Death Wish

I had been feeling like shit for a few weeks, but put off seeing the doctor until I had cleared up a couple of problems and had more time. His words were tough to take, but deep down I believed him, and the specialists that he sent me to confirmed his diagnosis.

I have no wife, close family, nor heirs, and am wealthy enough to live out my days, so what should I do? I have been shot at and missed, shit at and hit, jumped out of airplanes into forest fires, scuba dived with sharks, climbed mountains, and have generally lead a hedonistic life denying myself nothing, so what should I do for a final exit? The answer came quickly, as I had already given the matter some thought. Sex. I wanted sex. Not the normal, consensual type common to all, nor lurid rape with an unobtainable beauty, nor even another twelve year old virgin like I had taken in Viet Nam. I wanted a boy. I wanted to feel a young teen’s cock slide into my mouth and taste his fresh, salty seed, and I wanted to feel the same cock tickling my asshole with his balls slapping against my cheeks. I wanted to hear him grunt with pleasure as he emptied his balls, and I wanted to hear him moan in agony as I ream his virgin ass.

I wanted several months exclusive use of his smooth, young body until my faculties deteriorated, and then I wanted him to tie me up spread-eagle on my own bed and slowly castrate me, after which he would lay my balls on my chest, remove them from the scrotum, and finally force them whole down my throat, ending my life. This would be a far better way to check out than lying in a hospital bed dying day by day. Kinky? Hell yes it’s kinky, but I’m the one that’s dying and that’s the way I wanted it.

I had a normal childhood and adolescence, and had fallen madly in love several times, and had even been married for a few years, but during the last twenty years I had changed. I had no interest in sex with grown men, but every time I saw a teenager I wondered what he looked like naked and fantasized about sucking his cock. I would never have crossed that line before, but now things were different. I was dying and felt entitled. I would reward the young man handsomely, and my castration after the fact should be more than enough clear my account with my Maker.

The problem was one of logistics. The flesh merchants don’t usually deal with underage teens, and the ones they paraded by me were obviously older, and although they had been carefully shaved their true ages and experiences were revealed through their eyes. Boys like these, although young, were unacceptable. I wanted a virgin. I wanted to be the boy’s first sexual partner, and if I had the time I would have preferred to find one that was prepubescent, so I could also have his very first sperm. There were plenty of Black, Asian, and Latin virgins on the market that could be purchased for a pittance, but I wanted a white boy, not a refuge from some impoverished country.

I had almost given up hope when I found him. He was perfect! He had been at the orphanage since he was two or three years old, and they believed that he was now thirteen. He was blonde, with blue eyes and he had an engaging smile. A light dusting of peach fuzz adorned his upper lip, calves and arms. He rarely spoke, and was considered to be retarded, or to be politically correct, ‘learning disabled’. He was older than any of the other kids at the orphanage, and was considered to be unadoptable. He was starting to play with himself and since the Sisters were afraid that he would become sexually aggressive towards some of the younger girls and boys they were glad to be shed of him, no questions asked.

I had to be sure before committing myself, so I requested that he strip. He complied and soon stood before us naked and still smiling, showing none of the nervousness or modesty inherent in boys his age. He was thin and kind of gawky, almost malnourished, and the same downy hair that showed on his arms and legs coalesced to form the beginning of a pubescent bush above his genitals. I started the proceedings to become his foster parent for a year and he started playing with himself, fondling his balls and rubbing his cock to produce the start of an erection.

“Stop that!” The Placement Coordinator corrected him. “Sit still and mind your manners.”

He obeyed and spent his time gazing around the room, as if it were the first time he had ever been out of the familiar surroundings of the orphanage as I paid the agent a generous finder’s fee and directed my lawyer to set up a trust fund for the boy. My entire estate would revert to him in three hundred days or upon my death. This would ensure that I wouldn’t be kept alive as a vegetable should my plan for an earlier demise fail, as the heroic life support measures would go away as soon as I lost the ability to pay for them. It would also give the boy a head start on life, and perhaps pay for the treatment that he needed. His simple mind would protect him mental anguish from the abuse he would experience, and also against any legal repercussions for his part in my demise. The lawyer was a little hesitant, as he had a pretty good idea why I wanted the boy, and he had to make sure his ass was covered legally in case any shit rolled down hill onto himself.

The papers were all signed and the lawyer, agent, and people from the orphanage had all left, so the first order of business was to get the boy cleaned up.

His clothes were filthy and little more than rags, so I put them in the garbage. He wouldn’t need any for a while anyway, and I could always buy more or find something to fit him if we had to go out.

I stripped down and got into the shower with him. He seemed completely at ease showering with a grown man, and he mimicked my actions as I pulled back my foreskin and washed the accumulation from under it and then rubbed the bar of soap up through the crack in my ass. He was now clean enough to eat, so we got out of the shower and toweled ourselves off. He giggled with delight when I fired up the blow drier and tousled his silky hair. The orphanage had obviously never exposed him to such luxuries.

His hair was dry, so I stood him on the toilet seat and directed the dryer onto his crotch. His downy bush curled as it dried and his balls, warmed by the shower and the dryer sagged low in his scrotum, the leanness of his body accentuating their modest size and making them look large. His circumcised flaccid cock responded to the stimulation by slowly rising until it gently curved outward to its full five-inch length, and my own responded also. I was almost overcome with lust, and it was all I could do to keep myself from taking him right there in the bathroom, but I controlled myself and herded him onto my bed.

My fantasy had included licking and sucking his balls to get him hard, but he was way ahead of me there, and no way in hell could I wait for him to cool down, so I opened my mouth wide and approached his slender cock, which was glistening with his anticipatory juices and exuding a mouth-watering aroma. I was seconds away from nirvana when he door suddenly crashed in.

“I’m sorry Paul, but I can’t let you do this to a boy.” My lawyer said, as five stout young men he had dug up somewhere stormed into the room. The shyster looked around for the boy’s clothes, and not finding them he pulled the sheet from the bed and wrapped it around him and led him from the room with the boy’s erection tenting out the front of the makeshift toga and pointing the way. “He intended to have sex with a young boy. Punish him, and make sure that he won’t try it again.” He told the others, pointing at my rapidly deflating erection.

“Hello darlin.’” The biggest of the five young men said, releasing his belt buckle. “Were gonna show you a good time, probably just what you always wanted.”

The five men, all in their early to mid twenties, removed their leather biker gear, turned the volume up on the radio, and systematically violated me in every vile way possible. The young boy’s virgin cock was freshly washed and had smelled clean and fresh. The uncircumcised unit that was forced into my mouth was filthy, as was it’s owner, and it had an indescribably sour, rotten taste. The discharge was equally bad, and it was only the pressure exerted on my testicles that made me swallow it instead of spitting it out. The others were the same, in varying degrees, and when the fifth one was finished the first one started up again, only to force himself into my ass when he was hard.

I have had yearly prostate exams for many years and know what a finger in my ass feels like. I also know how good it feels to take a really big dump, and I had reasoned that a young teen’s lubricated cock would feel just as good slipping in and out of my ass. The first biker was only a normally equipped adult, but his cock felt like it was a foot long, four inches thick, and red-hot when he shoved it into me.

There is no crime or misdeed in creation that merits the punishment I received that afternoon. No man should ever be forced to lick his own shit and blood off of the cock of the man that just raped him, and no man’s tongue should ever be used in place of toilet paper to cleanse the asshole of a biker with diarrhea, but mine was. I wished for death several times, but that wasn’t an option.

They finally left me, and in my dazed condition I could only determine that I was tied to my own bed. I didn’t remember them placing the wire around my scrotum, nor was I aware that a rope attached to that wire led out of the bedroom window, and I thought my torment was over when I heard the staccato rumble of the departing Harleys. I heard the buzz of the coil of rope as it disappeared out the window, and turned to look just as the last of the slack left the line. It was over that quick, with my manhood bouncing along the pavement somewhere and me rendered nutless and left bleeding, still tied to my bed.

“I have some good news for you Paul!” The doctor said. The loss of your testicles has apparently shocked the disease into remission. The tumor is shrinking and your blood count is much better than it was a month ago. You should live to a ripe old age now, provided of course that we can control the HIV that you seemed to have contracted.”