Throwing his head back and arching his body, Garr cried to his lover in ecstasy, “Deeper, deeper,” and wrapped his legs about the barbarian Konan’s narrow hips, pulling their pelvises even closer and more tightly together, as the barbarian plowed the lean young mountain warrior’s ass canal with his huge weapon.
And he was plowing the lean young warrior Garr very well, and very deeply and fully, for he was Konan. And Garr lay back and bucked his hips for him as he did, then Konan plowed him for a long time more as Garr ran his legs up his lover’s chest and Konan pulled his thighs in close. And Garr moaned and cried out in his passion, “Ride me hard, barbarian, work my ass with your mighty tool, never stop. Oh, deeper. Oh faster. Ohh. Filllllll meeeee,” he cried as he shuddered and released his own pent up cream, so it shot up his belly to his chest and beyond.
But it had not always been so, when they had met Garr had been full of fear of Konan’s mighty weapon. And his fears were understandable, unfortunately, for Garr had been cruelly treated when a captive of the raiders, who had taken him and were known to be slave traders. And the great barbarian Konan had shown another side of himself to free Garr of his fear.
Urk and Konan crouched down and watched.
The raider’s camp looked to have been occupied for some time, with a pen set up for their horses and many possessions in piles lying under the rock. It was set up on smooth sand that lay in the shadow of a great stone overhang on the bank of the river. Its bed was mostly sand now in the dry season, but there was a narrow channel of fast-flowing water at its centre and odd marshy patches could be seen in the distance, in the wider river bed. The smoke of the raider’s small campfire was being broken up and dispersed by the rock above them, so they could be warm and eat cooked meat without giving any sign of their hiding place to those searching for them. And it had only been Urk’s great skill as a tracker that had brought him and Konan to this hidden, secret place.
Now, as evening fell, the friends were hidden behind huge slabs of rock that had fallen aeons ago from the cliffs above them, observing the rituals of the camp. And they smelt the aroma of grilling meat, which reminded them that their own stomachs were empty and rumbling after two full days of searching.
They watched the dozen dark-haired raiders sitting about their fire, eating grilled meat and passing a wine skin between themselves, laughing and talking. This continued for some time until it was fully dark and the only light was from the fire and from the moon that hung conveniently low in the sky above the far bank of the riverbed. When the food was eaten and the wine almost gone, two men got up and went deeper into the shadowed space under the overhang. Konan and Urk strained to see where they had gone, but saw no more then the two returning minutes later with a struggling captive.
Urk’s body tensed at the arrival of the young mountain warrior among his captors but then relaxed partly when he saw that it was not Rogg. But it was still a young man of great importance to him, as all four of those taken by the raiders were close kin of his.
The three older warriors, and the younger almost-warrior, Garr, had been captured when they had gone out to perform the sacred rites of initiation into manhood for Garr. And Urk and Konan both knew that the raiders would sell the four as slaves, if they got them across the mountains and down to the great city by the sea.
Young Garr, the youngest of the four, being hardly past his eighteenth year, was the one who had been dragged out first to stand before his captors, who had formed themselves into a circle. One from the circle stood up and went over to him, and the two watchers knew this must be the raider’s leader, as he was larger than the others and wore a great collar of beads and metal about his neck, which had not been visible when he was seated on the far side of the fire. The leader examined Garr all over, inspecting his teeth, feeling his arms and legs, then tearing his loincloth away and weighing his male parts in his hands and fondling them. Urk and Konan looked on, wanting to save Garr from the humiliation he was suffering, but knowing that the two of them, even though both great warriors, could not overcome those twelve rough and dangerous raiders while they were all together.
The leader then seemed to be stroking Garr’s manhood with his fist, and Garr struggled against his captors. But he was tied at the wrists and hobbled at the ankles, with one man at his arms behind him and two others taking his legs and holding them steady and parted. So he was unable to pull his rising organ from the leader’s grasp.
In the firelight Garr’s pole grew to a reasonable length and thickness, and once the leader had made it spout its youthful seed, the leader released the young captive and he was dragged back under the rock overhand into the darkness from where he had come. Then Cebeci Escort the other three captives were dragged out one by one, and the leader examined them and made each one’s manhood reach its full size and shoot its load before they were returned to where they had been brought from. The last to appear was Rogg, and when the leader had begun to work him up, his men all craned their necks to see the huge size and thickness of Rogg’s growing organ.
As his manhood grew to its full size and thickness, Rogg was fondled by all the party, the laughing men running their hands over his balls, squeezing and tugging at them, and over his manhood, gripping it and poking at its hole. Then one of the raiders was on his knees before him, taking that great tool into his mouth and sucking upon it greedily. And another had gone on his knees behind Rogg and had buried his face between his full muscular cheeks.
Rogg was young and, in spite of his situation, soon shook and moaned and filled the raider’s mouth with his first seed, then another burst went over the man’s body and a third over the hands of several. They exclaimed at the large amount of man cream Rogg had, and how strongly he pumped it out. Urk trembled with anger at seeing them treat Rogg like some pleasure slave.
Rogg was taken away soon after, but the young lean Garr was brought out again, and Konan observed that he was not only the youngest but also the most lithe and slender of the four captives.
Now the leader had Garr pushed onto his knees, and though the young man yelled and kicked, his tied hands and his tied ankles made him helpless. Men pulled his legs as far apart as his bonds allowed and forced his head to the ground. Meanwhile, the leader pulled his short thick organ free of his britches and waved it about and, kneeling behind the young captive, slapped it on Garr’s pale ass cheeks.
Then with little preparation, he drove it into Garr’s virgin hole. The young man screaming at the pain of the leader’s cruel invasion. But the raiders laughed loudly, enjoying the young captives pain, and their leader roughly and cruelly thrust into him again and again, finally spouting his seed across Garr’s back as the young man fell to the ground.
Garr remained lying in a heap as the leader strutted about holding his tool, which still had some stiffness, shaking it and saying, “See how great and strong my weapon is. It has almost killed this weak mountain man. A warrior? Ha. A weakling. As are all mountain men. Fit for nothing but the slave market.”
Garr was dragged away then and, to the watchers, that appeared to be the end of the evening’s entertainment. The raiders moved away from the fire, or pulled their blankets closer to it, and lay down and quietened. The fire was damped down with sand till it was only a small glow, and just one man remained sitting by it and keeping watch.
The raiders had grown complacent after using the hiding place so long, and the watch man didn’t wake anyone to take his place when he wandered off to piss. So they were unaware he never returned. But Konan crept back to where Urk was hidden and, squeezing his arm in reassurance, handed him another knife, the raider’s blade that was sharp and long.
Then silently Konan and Urk left their hiding spot and approached the sleeping party. The men moved under their blankets and made sleeping noises, and it was not as dark beneath the overhang as it might have been, as the moon was still sitting low in the sky. Then Urk was squatting beside one dark sleeping shape and there was no more than a faint grunt as he found a use for the raider’s knife. Then he was beside another, and Konan had silently slit the throat of a third man already. Silently and quickly Urk and Konan continued their work and there were but three or four men left alive when one turned over at the sound of a stifled cry and shouted out.
But it was too late. Those left alive were still struggling to stand as Konan and Urk reached them. The camp was suddenly silent, and Urk bent to stir the coals throwing light over the scene of death about them. Then he threw more wood on the fire before he took up a burning log and he and Konan moved to the back of the overhang where the prisoners had been dragged.
They crawled back as the roof got lower and then found a side cave and the captives in there, tied up and chained to stakes driven into the stone walls. Garr lay huddled up, his face stained with tears, and with blood – but only a small amount, the two men were relieved to see – about his rear and between his thighs. Konan cut him free and almost carried him from the cave, as Urk freed the other three young men, embracing Rogg, who kissed him ferociously.
They gathered down by the flowing water in the riverbed, and though it was cold, the freed captives all lay or sat in the cleansing water. They splashed it over themselves, washing the stench of their captivity and the raider’s foul hands from their lean, Kolej Escort strong bodies.
Urk joined his lover, Rogg, in the fast-flowing water and used his hands to cleanse his manhood as it quickly rose up to greet him. Then he and Rogg lay in the water and rolled about in it, embracing and cleansing themselves in the coolness, as they moved against the sand and each other. The water was cold, so they felt the heat of each other’s bodies gladly, and pressed against each other with the heat of the others skin against their skin inflaming their desire even more, as they kissed, and touched each other’s organs and entrances.
Soon Rogg was kneeling in the water with Urk knelt behind him between his spread thighs, and Urk was running his tongue and fingers about Rogg’s puckered rim as Rogg moaned and whispered to Urk of what he wanted him to do to reassert his possession of him. They were rough words of fucking and cum. And Urk had his fingers inside Rogg, as Rogg stroked his own massive pole and it spouted into the water beneath him, his seed carried off to the ocean.
Urk’s own manhood was of just as massive a size as Rogg’s and was standing tall and dark in the dim light, unseen precum dribbling from its tiny mouth, and Urk rubbed it over Rogg’s rim and into his loosening hole.
Garr had gone a bit away from the others and lay alone in the cold water, shaking and trying to clean the stench and abuse of the raiders from his body, as Konan kept a worried eye on him. The other two young men now sat on the wet sand beside the river and, with their own tools in their hands, stroked themselves and ran their hands over their bodies, tweaking and pinching and fondling their balls, as Urk pressed the huge knob of his manhood to the loosened hole of the begging Rogg.
Rogg moaned, “Fill me. I need your manhood inside me. Drive it in. Hard. Fuck me deep. Take me Urk. Take me strong and hard, make me yours again.” And Urk did, driving his knob into Rogg’s passage and then driving his tool further into him, reaching the spot he knew and rubbing his knob against that, twisting and turning it inside his lover. Then pushing his manhood deeper, Rogg welcoming it into his core with moans and whimpers as they were connected, curling pubic hair mixed with curling ass hair, two bodies joined in shared heat and lust. Urk rocked himself inside the tight, embracing passage of his lover and moaned at the feel of that channel on his throbbing tool, as Rogg moaned with him.
There were cries of, “Yes, yes,” and, “Fuck him, fuck him deep,” from the two young men watching, who came quickly at the sight of Urk’s great tool being buried to the hilt and then fucking in and out of Rogg’s hole.
Garr blocked his ears and hissed, “How can they. It is so painful. How could any man?” and Konan heard him and replied.
“The raider was cruel. A real man will seek to give pleasure to another he enters, as Urk and Rogg do. It is a most pleasurable thing.”
“I can’t believe it,” Garr whimpered, still trying to cleanse the suffering of his capture from his body, but unable to remove it from his mind with the cold water.
Konan soon pulled Garr from the water and half dragged him back to the fire where he found clean rugs and wrapped them about him and fed him from what food there was about, making him eat. In the background, the sounds of Urk and Rogg’s passionate joining filled the night air.
The other two young men joined them and ate their fill too and talked of their capture as Konan listened. Garr sat huddled still and joined in occasionally but said little. Konan sat closer to him and rubbed the blanket over him, as he still shivered, and young Treg asked what had happened when they took him out of the cave the second time.
“The leader forced his manhood into me,” he whispered.
“So was it pleasurable?” Treg asked
“Pleasurable?” Garr cried out unexpectedly. “I cannot believe any man would find it pleasurable,” he replied angrily, showing how much he had been hurt.
Konan took hold of him and pulled him to him. “It is pleasurable for any man who is prepared well,” he said firmly, looking Garr in the eyes.
“Yes,” said Treg, “Konan is right,” and he approached the two of them.
Konan began to run his hands over Garr’s body, rubbing the lean and frightened young Garr’s nipples, gently but firmly.
“See, is this not good?” The barbarian asked softly.
“Yes. But . . . But that is not what he did,” Garr replied, “I . . .”
Konan found Garr’s lips with his, blocking off whatever he was going to say and continued his rubbing with one hand as the other began to roam gently over Garr’s body.
Treg could see Garr’s nipples harden and said, “See? Is that not pleasant? You shall have your initiation now, Garr. Konan and I shall show you what you can enjoy. Remember I am kin, Garr, and would not lie to you.”
“Yes. But. . . . ,” Garr whimpered, even as his own organ began Yenimahalle Escort to grow under the attentions of Konan’s fingers, which now gently stroked it and played with his foreskin, moving it back and revealing he head of his stiffening cock.
Then suddenly Garr tried again to pull away, because he had looked down and seen the huge tent Konan’s rising manhood was making in his loincloth. Showing Garr that he was far longer, and thicker than the raider’s leader had been and frightening him.
Konan placed a great hand under Garr’s chin and, lifting his face and looking into his eyes, said, “I promise that you shall feel only what is good. And my weapon is not for you, unless you ask for it.”
“Never,” Garr cried out, meaning it
Kneeling behind him Treg kissed the back of Garr’s neck and across his shoulders and played his hands over the younger man’s back and arms, moving in and placing his thighs outside Garr’s. And Konan continued to look into Garr’s eyes while stroking his young manhood into hardness and occasionally let his fingers roam to Garr’s sac to squeeze and tug at that.
Garr began to pant and to feel his lust rise, discovering that the attentions of the two men were bringing him to a state of heat and desire that he had never felt before. Without thought, he lifted his hips higher, raising his butt up, and Treg ran his hands under Garr’s cheeks, squeezing them and stroking them and his fingers drifted closer to Garr’s entrance. Now the fourth young captive, Tor went over to them with a pot of oil that the raiders had left by the fire, and Treg and Konan dipped their fingers into it, and now Konan’s hand was slick and slid over Garr’s pole like silk, but tight-wrapped, caressing silk.
“Unhhh,” Garr moaned, and gazing into his eyes, Konan saw him let go of his fear.
Behind him, Treg was running oily fingers up and down the younger man’s crease, sliding over his sore rim, making the hole twitch and tighten in a most pleasurable way. But Garr’s eyes opened wider, looking at Konan with new fear.
“No,” he whimpered, “No,” moving his hands as if to push Treg and Konan away, but Konan bent his head and took Garr’s mouth into a kiss and tightened the fist he was sliding up and down his pole, leaving his thumb to circle and press on the tiny mouth in it’s head.
Garr lay between surrender and fright as Treg pressed the tip of one finger against Garr’s twitching puckered rim and the long slender oiled finger slid in easily. Treg closed his eyes the better to feel the place inside Garr where he wanted to rest his fingertip. Garr hung there, wondering at how easily and painlessly he had been entered and then was feeling something stirring deep inside him that was making his weapon leak its creamy seed. Konan felt Garr relax again and, freeing his mouth, bent his head to lick the drops from the crown of the young man’s manhood.
Now Garr moaned and moved his hips in ecstasy, his hands moving to Konan’s head and gripping his hair. And if there was soreness at his entrance, then he was no longer aware of it as his organ throbbed and his balls ached with the need to cum. But now Konan lulled his head back and instead kissed up Garr’s belly to his chest and beyond to his neck Garr moaning,” Finish me, don’t stop,” and reaching for his own tool but having his hands pulled away by Tor, who held them up as he kissed Garr’s mouth.
Meanwhile, Treg had inserted another oily finger into Garr’s passage and began to slide both in and out. Garr now moaned steadily and his hips moved along with the action of Treg’s fingers, straining too to rub his tool against Konan’s great thighs, to gain release.
Urk and Rogg arrived to see them thus. Garr on his knees, his thighs wide, his ass pushed back to Treg, whose fingers fucked him, Tor kissing his mouth and holding his arms high as Konan crouched before him fondling his chest and now, again, dropping his head to Garr’s manhood and taking it fully into his mouth and sucking. Sucking searching all about it with his tongue. Garr finally came, sending his spoutings into Konan’s throat.
Garr went weak and sagged forward then, spent, but Treg held his hips as Tor released his arms and mouth and Konan guided the young warrior’s head into his lap.
Konan ran his hands over Garr’s back and his ass cheeks, and as Treg withdrew his two fingers, Konan pressed just one deep into Garr’s channel, stretching it more, and Garr moaned in willing acceptance. Tor looked on, stroking himself to his own release.
Treg’s weapon was long and thin and already hard enough to press into Garr’s loosened, well-oiled entrance, as Konan held his cheeks spread. Now Garr whimpered briefly as Treg entered him, and again as he slid deeper and pulled back slightly, but Treg was gentle as he began to plow Garr’s passage, and Garr’s whimpers turned to grunts and moans of pleasure as Treg began to plow him deeply. And Garr’s mouth had found the head of Konan’s great weapon, and his hands reached under and pushed away the loincloth covering it, and Garr took its great cap into his mouth and began to suck and lick it greedily. And as he felt it grow to its full hardness, he couldn’t stop wondering what such a massive shaft of manhood would feel like working him where Treg’s fine long tool now was. And the motion of his hips grew wilder as he thought of it.