Untitled

Storm Christopher

Based on an original story by Hangdogmi.

Many more stories like this can be found for sale on Amazon by author, Storm Christopher.  I have purchased many of them myself. (I do not receive any compensation of any kind for this referral.  It is purely for sharing some adult horror stories I have enjoyed reading.)

Hangdogmi stories can be found, for free at his own blog,

http://hangdogmi.blogspot.com/2011/11/story-index.html

This version is posted here only with the written consent of Storm Christopher. No other consent is implied without contacting the Author for permission.

Warning: contains murder mystery, adult content, violence, Male on Male sexual situations, 18 years old, plus, as a minimum.  If this interests you, read on.

The headline jumped out at me.  I reached for the folded newspaper some previous customer had left on the lunch counter and began reading as I drank my coffee.  Fourth Young Man Found Hanged.  I signaled the waitress for a refill and she poured without comment as I studied the article.  

The victim was about 21, good-looking like the others.  His hands had been tied behind his back with rope, and his wrists were badly burned from struggling.  Just like the others, he had also been sexually assaulted.  He’d been found deep in the woods outside of town dangling from the end of a rope.  Naked – just like the others.

The sheriff was talking now about a serial killer.  The first victim’s car had been found in the parking lot of a rest stop up the highway.  The second and third victims had also been found near rest stops, although no cars had been found.  The sheriff speculated they’d been picked up hitch-hiking.  The latest victim was a mystery – no identification and no vehicle – but the body had been found not far from a highway rest stop.  The sheriff urged people to avoid such places and to keep an eye out for any suspicious strangers.

I finished the article, then picked the paper up and started to read it again.  The waitress sidled over with her coffee pot and noticed the headline.  “You better be careful, honey, out this late at night.  Good-looking guy like you, you might be next.”  She gave me a smile and a wink, and I buried my nose in the article again, creeped out.  She could have been my mother.  I wondered if she recognized me, though.  I’d eaten at this truck stop before.

I probably read and reread that article four or five times until I’d practically memorized it.  Then the next day the television news crews took notice of the hangings – not just the local news stations, but some of the state and national outfits, too.  I watched it all, mesmerized by the details, letting my imagination fill in what the reporters didn’t know.  The hangings haunted my dreams at night.  I had just turned twenty-one, and I’d been frequenting rest stops and hitch-hiking for a couple of years already looking for tricks and easy sex, sometimes picking up a few bucks from randy truckers and closeted family men.

It could have been me the killer picked up.  I couldn’t get that thought out of my head, and I resolved to stop going to the rest stops.  Too many police were watching them, anyway.

Still, I kept having these strange, really hot dreams.  I’d wake up suddenly, tangled in my sheets, sweating, my heart pounding with fear and my dick rock hard.  In those dreams it was me the killer picked up, me he raped, and me he strung up by the neck.

After a couple of weeks, I began to think that anything I obsessed so much about was maybe, just maybe, something I wanted.  I found myself jacking off to the idea.  I mean, what the fuck – I had no job, no prospects and no family to fall back on.  All my friends had gone off to college or just moved on, leaving me stuck in this nowhere small town.  What little money I had was rapidly running out.  Figuratively speaking, I was already at the end of my rope.  So I went back to cruising the rest stops.  Enough time had gone by that the news outlets had lost interest in the story.  That meant the pressure was off the sheriff’s department, too.  

The nearest rest stop was about forty miles up the road.  I’d had good luck there before, so I pulled my battered Ford into the parking lot, got out, leaned on the hood of my car and pretended to study the stars.  In boots and tight jeans and a white tee shirt, I knew I was an attractive piece of bait.   But the night was quiet and dull.  There was little traffic on the highway, and nobody stopped.

The next few nights were just as dull. On the fourth night, an old white-haired guy pulled in.  He glanced my way as he headed into the men’s room and, after a few moments, I followed.  He was lean and wiry and handsome enough, and nervously, he offered me a blowjob.  Yet, something was missing.  I felt no excitement, and I turned him down, as puzzled by my decision as he obviously was.

I skipped the weekend.  There were always too many tourists and families on weekends and, generally, that meant more cops.  But I had those dreams again and woke both nights with a powerful need to jack off.  On Monday, I drove back to the rest stop and this time I accepted a blowjob from a farmer I’d seen there before, but it was uninspired and I was unsatisfied by the encounter.  Still, he gave me twenty bucks unasked.

 I skipped Tuesday, but on Wednesday I returned yet again.  I parked in the shadows away from the men’s room and waited, flipping the radio dial from one country channel to another just for something to do.  After about two hours, I was ready to go home.  That was when a red pick-up truck drove in.  He passed me by very slowly and continued to the far end of the lot.  Then, he turned around and came back to park just a few places from me.  His window rolled down all the way, and he leaned forward to give me a long look.

A few moments later, his door opened and closed, and he walked toward the men’s room.  I waited until he went inside, then got out and followed him.  He was standing at a urinal, but he turned to look at me when I walked in.  He was bigger than I was, broadly built and in his forties but still good-looking. He wore cowboy boots and jeans and a white shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows.  I took the urinal right beside him.  He grinned a little and stepped back to show me his hard dick.  The man was huge.  I started stroking as I looked at it.

“How about it?” he said in a low voice.  “You wanna go?”  I would have sucked him right there, but he stuffed that big cock back in his jeans, zipped up, and walked out.  I hesitated, then followed him.

He held the passenger door of his truck open.  “Kind of hot for that tee shirt, isn’t it?” he said, looking at me with intent, hard eyes.

I answered stupidly.  “Yeah, warm night for summer.”  I peeled the tee shirt off slowly, giving him a show.  Then, I let him run his gaze over my smooth, hard chest and flat stomach.  He didn’t smile, but he looked satisfied.

“Nice,” he said.  Stepping closer, he put a firm hand on my shoulder.  His touch felt hot, but I think I shivered.  “You ever been tied up?”

I hesitated again and slowly answered, “Yeah,” but he had already pulled a thin rope from his hip pocket.  Pressing me up against the side of the truck, he caught one of my hands and then the other.  He wrapped my crossed wrists in quick loops and bound me tightly.  His hot breath raked my neck.  His lips brushed my bare shoulder.  I tested the bonds.  No way was I getting free.  My hard cock twitched with a burst of pre-cum inside my jeans.

He turned me around slowly and looked at me with an expressionless face that made my heart hammer.  For the first time, I wondered what I’d gotten into.  Without warning, his hands came up.  He forced a knotted bandanna into my mouth and tied it tightly behind my head.  “Hard to say no to anything I want now, huh?”

I nodded, not that I wanted to say no to anything, at least not yet.  He nodded toward the inside of the truck and steadied me as I climbed into the passenger’s seat.  He buckled my seatbelt for me and closed the door, then got in on the other side behind the wheel.  Soon, we headed down the highway, and I began to think with fear and anticipation, but also with a powerful excitement.

After a few miles, he turned off the highway down a dark road, then down a smaller road past crops and orchards and ponds.  Only a few lights from farmhouses shone.  The road turned rough, became a dirt road and we moved into woods, then we were just on a two-wheeled path.

He stopped the truck, got out and opened my door.  I heard the sounds of cicadas and tree frogs. Fireflies blinked in the tree leaves and grass.  I didn’t have time to appreciate any of it, though.  He pulled me out of the cab and marched me along a foot path deeper into the woods.  I noticed that he carried a small duffle bag over one shoulder.  My heart nearly stopped at the sight of it.  I didn’t need to guess what was in it.

He jerked me to a stop suddenly, dropped the bag and forced me to my knees.  Unzipping his jeans, he pulled out his fat cock.  It wasn’t quite hard yet, but he tore away the gag and stuffed that meat into my mouth.  “Suck it,” he demanded.  I had no choice but to obey, and he began to skull-fuck me as he grew bigger and harder, forcing his dick into my throat until I gagged.  

After a few minutes of that, with the taste of his pre-cum on my tongue, he stopped and pulled me to my feet.  “Stand still,” he ordered, and he bent down, unlaced my boots and told me to step out of them.  When I stood in the grass in my socks, he unbuckled my belt, unfastened my pants and pushed them down around my ankles.  He lifted my feet one at a time, slipping the pants and the socks off my feet, until I stood there naked.

His eyes had a crazy gleam.  “I’m number five, aren’t I?” I said, trembling.

“What makes you say that, boy?” he said, his voice low and even.  “You think just because you’re standing here in the woods tied up and naked, not knowing who you’re with and nobody knowing where you are, that something’s gonna happen you won’t like?”  He touched the side of my neck then ran a finger down my chest and belly and gripped my dick.  “Just because you’re all hard and young and pretty, like the other boys in those news reports?”  He walked around behind me and felt my ass.  One finger pushed between my cheeks and teased my hole.  My shivering became uncontrollable.

He must have felt it.  He moved me over to a tree stump and forced me to bend across it.  The old wood was rough on my bare skin, but he was quiet.  I stayed quiet, too.  Then, I heard the downward slide of his zipper.  His hands spread my cheeks and he spit.  When he forced his cock into me I screamed.  There was nobody around to hear, though, and he seemed to enjoy it.  He pinned me to the tree stump and plowed me deep, fucking me without mercy for a long time.  His breathing got heavier, and I began to get hard, too, as I got used to the cruel treatment.  It might have been the fuck of my lifetime.

But suddenly, he pulled out without coming.  The shock made me gasp, but I didn’t move.  I heard him behind me in the grass, and when he came back, he had the duffle bag. “You took a big gamble tonight, huh?” he said, as he reached into the bag.  He drew out a thick hemp rope and dangled the heavy noose so I could see it.

“Oh, shit!” I said.

He made me stand up then, and he placed the noose around my neck, snugging the big nine-twist knot tight and close behind my left ear.  Then, he forced me up onto the tree stump. I stood there, scared and nervous, as he threw the free end of the rope over the tree branch above my head.  “Now, you stay right there,” he said, as he uncoiled the long length of rope, looped it around the tree trunk and tied it off.

He left no slack in the rope.  The sharp, raw hemp bit into my flesh as he stretched me up onto my toes.

He came back and stood in front of me. “Time to hang, boy,” he said.  “Let’s see if you can put on just as good a show as those other boys did.”  He grinned a little. “You should know, though, that you’ll have to work some to out-do those guys.  I think you’ll have a good time, though.  You look like the competitive sort.”

Constricted by the noose, my voice was raspy.  “Please, don’t kill me!  I don’t want to die!” Despite all my dreams and fantasies, I suddenly realized that was true.  But here I was, noosed and bound, and this man meant to do just that.  The next newspaper headline flashed through my mind.

“Doesn’t much matter what you want now, boy,” he said, as he reached up and put his hands on the rope between me and the tree trunk.  “Here you are, and here you’ll stay.  At least, until somebody finds your corpse and cuts you down. Sweet dreams, you dumb little fuck!”  

He jumped up, caught the rope and pulled on it with all his weight, and I rose into the air, more than two feet above the stump.  Somehow, I swung completely away from it, twisting and spinning and kicking, but I couldn’t find the stump again.

My killer laughed.  “That’s it, boy!  Dance! Dance for me!”  I spun around and caught a glimpse of him jerking his cock as he watched me, one hand still on the rope, making sure I didn’t come down again.

The noose squeezed my neck.  The pain was blinding, and I sucked for air as I kicked and fought.  My chest felt like it was going to explode for lack of breath.  But it wasn’t my chest exploding – it was my cock.  As I strangled, my balls began to churn, and I started shooting cum, rope after rope of hot cum, unending cum, until I felt like I was turning inside out and the pain became the most intense pleasure I’d ever known.  

Then, on the edge of blackness, or maybe death, I heard shouts and voices and some kind of chaos.  I continued to swing back and forth, twisting violently until I fell into a deep, dark ocean from which I never wanted to emerge.

But I did emerge.  I woke jerking and shivering, sweating with fear and confusion.  I felt hands all over me, heard voices in my ears.  Slowly, I found strength and will to open my eyes, and the voices in my ears became one voice, and the voice became words.  “Take it easy, kid, just take it easy.  Lie back for a bit.  You’re safe now.”

Everything still looked hazy, but I made out the sheriff’s face and the shapes of a dozen men in dark clothing.  My neck hurt like hell and I wanted to sit up, but my hands were still tied behind my back and all I could do was twitch and groan.  Little by little, my vision started to clear.  I saw my hangman between two state patrolmen and sheriff’s deputies all around.

The sheriff spoke calming words and he turned me over just enough to cut the rope that bound my hands.  I realized I was still naked as I tried to sit up, but he put a gentle hand on my chest and urged me to be still a while longer.  “You almost became number five, young man,” he said,” he said.  “Looks like we were just in time.”

I swallowed a few times, my throat sore and nearly crushed.  “I thought I was ….” I answered.  Talking hurt, however, breathing felt really sweet.

One of the other deputies leaned close. “The guy fought pretty hard,” he said, “so it took us a minute before we could get you down.”

“We’ll get you checked out at the hospital,” the sheriff added, “and then we’ll have to get a statement from you.  Do you know where your clothes are?”

I felt sheepish and embarrassed.  “Over by the truck,” I rasped.  The deputy went to get my jeans and boots.  I didn’t know where my shirt was.  I did know one thing. My legs and cock were covered in sticky cum.  The sheriff knew it, too.  I could tell by his smirk as he watched me.

“You’re going to be a hero,” the sheriff said.  “We didn’t plan to use you as a decoy, but one of my men just happened to pull into that rest stop when this pick-up was pulling out, and he decided to follow.  He decided to call the rest of us when your guy headed off the highway.”  He paused, then patted my thigh.  “You really should stay away from the rest stops after this.”

I looked at the noose and the crumpled rope on the ground beside me.  “I’ve had enough excitement,” I answered, and I meant it.    

A week later, though, I lay awake in bed with my cock in my hand.  I couldn’t stop thinking about my experience and all the deliberate steps I’d taken that led up to it.  I’d almost gotten myself killed, yet I remembered that almost-last-ever orgasm as I swung at the end of that rope.  It scared me how powerful that was, but it scared me more how much I wanted it again.  Something was wrong with me, I was sure.  Maybe I needed help.

That was when I heard a late-night knock at my door.  I got out of bed.  “Who the hell is that?” I called.  My voice had changed.  It was deeper, and I wondered if the rasp would ever go away, just as I wondered if the rope burn around my neck would ever fade.

“It’s Sheriff Everly,” came the answer through the door.  “I’m afraid we need your help, Mike.  I know it’s late, but can you let us in?”

I quickly pulled on my jeans and opened the door.”  What’s up, Sheriff?” I asked, frowning.  He had a deputy with him, the same deputy who had found my clothes that night.

“We need your help, Mike,” the sheriff repeated.  “We need you to come out to the crime scene and go over a few details with us.  Otherwise, that son of a bitch that tried to hang you might get off on a technicality.”  

“This time of night?” I said, but I reached for my socks and boots and started to pull them on.

“It’s almost the same time of night as when we found you,” the sheriff answered.  “We need to go over everything just as it happened so there are no mistakes and no slip-ups.”

“The judge is making noises about rights violations and poor procedures and all that crap,” the deputy added.

I laced up my boots and went for a shirt in my closet.  “All right, all right,” I said.  “I’ll come.  If this guy gets off, he’s going to try it again with somebody else.”

The sheriff and deputy both agreed and shortly I was in the back of a cruiser heading up the highway again. My thoughts churned wildly as we drove past the rest stop, and my dick swelled inside my jeans as I remembered letting the guy tie my hands, his breath on my neck, his lips briefly on my shoulder.  I saw the tail lights of another car parked almost where I had parked, and I wondered.

Suddenly, the night seemed dreamlike. We drove down the same highway, turned onto the same road, then the same dirt road.  The crops rolled past, and unconsciously I put my hands behind my back as if I was tied up again.  I relived the same fear and excitement.  When we turned onto the rough two-wheeled track and headed into the woods, I nearly came in my jeans.  I felt like I couldn’t breathe.

“You okay back there, Mike?” the sheriff asked, concerned.

I wondered what he’d heard.  “Yeah, fine,” I answered.  “It’s a bit surreal being back here so soon, that’s all.”

I was sweating when the cruiser stopped.  The deputy got out first and opened my door for me.  I looked around and stared toward the tree stump a short distance away and then up at the tree branch from which I’d hanged.  “I thought there’d be more men here,” I said quietly.  “You know, combing around and stuff.”

“My men have been all over the grounds for physical evidence,” Sheriff Everly answered.  “We just need you to walk through everything with us.  We need to know, moment by moment, what went down, how it happened, what the creep said to you and how you felt.  Everything you can tell us.”

“What happened to your shirt, Mike?” the deputy asked.  “We didn’t find your shirt here.”  

I swallowed, remembering.  “He asked me to take it off back at the rest stop,” I answered.

“How did you do it?  Did he force you to take it off?”

“No, not exactly,” I answered the deputy.  “He just told me, kind of stern-like, and I obeyed him.”

“Show us,” Sheriff Everly said. His voice was stern, too, and I peeled my shirt off slowly over my head, giving him a show, just as I had done for my hangman.

“That’s nice,” the sheriff said. “Is that when he tied your hands?”

I thought for a long moment, and then I nodded without saying anything.  

“Like this?” the deputy said behind me.  Slowly, he caught my right hand and then my left, crossed my wrists and tied them tightly behind my back.  “Don’t be afraid,” he whispered in my ear.  “We just need to know.”

I swallowed several times.  “He drove me out here then,” I said as my heart started hammering.  “He didn’t say a word on the trip, but sometimes he looked at me.”

“Were you afraid?” the sheriff asked, leaning close.  “What were you thinking?”

What was I thinking?  “I don’t know,” I answered as my breathing started to quicken.  “I was scared, but I was excited, too.  I’d read all the newspapers.  I’d thought about it.”  I swallowed again and started to twist my wrists inside the binding ropes.  “I guess I invited it.  I – I wanted it.”  It was a terrible admission.  I couldn’t look at either man.

The deputy reached around me and started to unbuckle my belt.  He pushed my jeans down around my ankles.  “You wanted it,” the sheriff repeated as he tugged his zipper down and pulled out his cock.  “I bet he made you suck him, didn’t he?”

The deputy pushed me to my knees and suddenly the sheriff stuffed his dick into my mouth.  He face-fucked me hard and quick and shot a steaming load down my throat.  My hangman hadn’t done that, but I didn’t have a chance to tell him before the deputy took his place.  My mind was slipping into another realm, and I sucked the deputy eagerly, savoring his salty load.

“Then what?” the sheriff calmly asked.

“The tree stump,” I muttered.  “He fucked me real hard.”

The sheriff guided me to the tree stump.  “And you liked that?”  He bent me over the rough wood.  I still had scratches on my chest from the first time, but I didn’t resist.  Despite shooting his load down my throat, he began to plow me, deep and rough, like my hangman.  Then, the deputy was on me, his cock hard and merciless.

And I knew what they were going to do.

When the deputy finished and pulled me to my feet, my own cock was rock hard and aching for release.  The sheriff stood waiting with an empty duffle bag in one hand, a length of rope and a noose in the other.  Dropping the bag at my feet, he placed the noose over my head and snugged it tight.

“You like this, too, don’t you, Mike,” he said.  “You want this as much now as you did before, don’t you?”

“You want to swing,” the deputy said, “just like the last time, only this time you know it’s all the way to the end.  No rescue.”

Sheriff Everly touched the rope burn around my neck, explored admiringly with a fingertip, then ran his finger down my chest.  “You see, Mike, it’s like this.  That last guy was just a copy-cat, a wannabe killer who had read all the reports and wanted a piece of the action.”  He gripped my hard cock in a tight fist and started to jack it.  “The deputy and I,” he continued, “we’re the real killers.  How do you feel about that?”

I stared into his eyes, my knees weak and heart pounding. But incredibly aware of his calloused hand massaging and working my cock, bringing me right up to the edge and backing off before I shot, then bringing me up again.  “Am I number five?” I asked quietly.  “Am I number five?”

The sheriff, with the deputy’s help, eased me up onto the tree stump.  While the sheriff continued to edge me, the deputy threw the rope over the limb and pulled on it until there was no slack left.  The noose forced my chin up and soon it lifted me onto my toes.

“I don’t want to die,” I said, just as I had before, but I wasn’t sure if that was true.  I felt the throbbing in my dick, the overwhelming desire to cum, to explode as I had done before.  I wanted to experience that again!

“Yes, you do, Mike,” Sheriff Everly said softly as he took his own cock in his hand and began stroking it.  “You danced for that other guy.  Now you want to dance for me, don’t you?”

I couldn’t help myself.  With the noose caressing me, promising my end, I nodded.  Anything if I could cum like that again.  I whispered, “Yes.”

The sheriff continued to stroke his cock.  “You want to die for me, don’t you, Mike.”  His hand moved faster on his fat dick and he nodded.  The deputy jerked on the rope.  My feet left the tree stump.  He jerked again, and I rose higher into the air.  As I kicked and turned in my dance, I saw the deputy tie the end of the rope around the tree trunk, just as my first hangman had done, then just like the sheriff, he started jerking his hard cock.

The sheriff howled as he shot his load. The hot, sticky cum landed on my legs and feet.  I heard the deputy howl, too, but I didn’t see him.  My own orgasm ripped through me, shaking me from the inside out, ripping all my awareness away as the noose did its work.  I saw my cum rocket from my dick, strike the sheriff in the face, and then I saw nothing else.  

For long minutes, in the dimmest corner of my mind, I felt a thousand sensations, blinding pain and pleasure as I continued to come.  I jerked at the end of the rope, knowing I was dying, but not caring, free of care or further torment.

Then, I was just another headline in the newspaper.