("`-''-/").___..--''"`-._ `6_ 6 ) `-. ( ).`-.__.`) (_Y_.)' ._ ) `._ `. ``-..-' _..`--'_..-_/ /--'_.' ,' (((' (((-((('' (((( K R I S T E N' S C O L L E C T I O N _________________________________________ WARNING! This text file contains sexually explicit material. If you do not wish to read this type of literature, or you are under age, PLEASE DELETE THIS FILE NOW!!!! _________________________________________ Scroll down to view text Archive name: trainby3.txt (Mm, nc, ped, bd, tort, asian) Authors name: Dale10 (maipenraikhap@msn.com) Story title : Boy On the Train - 4 -------------------------------------------------------- This work is copyrighted to the author © 2003. Please don't remove the author information or make any changes to this story. You may post freely to non-commercial "free" sites, or in the "free" area of commercial sites. Thank you for your consideration. -------------------------------------------------------- Boy On the Train Part 4 (Mm, nc, ped, bd, tort, asian) by Dale10 (maipenraikhap@msn.com) *** The boy from the train gets more training... *** Burusera Shops are unique to Japan. They have been around for some time, and for a while you could access them on the internet as well. But you really have to be in one to believe it. Young students as young as fourteen maybe younger, use these shops to make a little extra cash. Adult perverts adore their labors. A Burusera Shop, and there are hundreds around Japan) is a place to buy a souvenir, a token from a young boy or girl. Teenage boys will jerk off into rubbers or into their underwear, or piss or shit in their underwear or just wear the same underpants for two weeks, and then seal the results in a plastic bag, along with the picture of the donor, and these treasures are sold in Burusera Shops. The walls of the shop are lined with plastic bags. They are divided by subject matter. Piss stained underpants, cum stained underpants. Fuck filled school soccer shorts. Dirty jock straps. Condoms filled with dick spooge and tied off. Filthy wrinkled yellow cum clogged rubbers from fuck sessions with boys or girls, each one labeled as to the sex that created the encrusted rubber. Boy scout shorts that had been worn for weeks without underwear. You name it. Each item as I said is in a plastic bag, and has a picture of the boy who gave the goody. The picture might also have the boy's name and age, 14, 15, 16, and so on. Some of the pictures contain telephone numbers so you can buy additional items from your idol, or even perhaps meet with the boy for further activity of a more personal nature. You can buy bottles of boy piss. You can buy jars filled with teen turds. Any fucking thing you might need. I needed lots of stuff to continue my fun and games with my little schoolboy upstairs in the hotel room. The owner of the shop was a friendly guy, who said they didn't get many gaijin in this town, and would I care to jerk off in a condom for him to sell. He offered me quite a deal. However I wanted to save all my spooge for my sweet little student upstairs. The only problem with a Burusera Shop is that like everything else in Japan it is terribly expensive. After I had made my purchases, I went to a very nice restaurant and had a long meal. I had not eaten all day. I knew the trussed up and tortured boy in my room was probably starving too, but I thought that was probably good for him. Boys of that age need to discipline themselves, and sometimes they need help. My next stop was a market where I did buy some food for him and some other things: A plastic pail, a plastic dishpan, clothes pins, rope, several huge cucumbers, a box of stick pins, and more. Then I went to the local porno shop, (not to be confused with the high class Burusera Shop) and bought some toys. Then I returned to my young man in the hotel room. He was in extreme agony. His muscles had tightened and he was feeling horrible cramps. His eyes were wild with pain and he screamed behind the wadded up socks in his mouth. The banana in his tight little asshole was half way out he must have been doing some serious rectal muscle pushing. His pierced titties were stretched to his teen prick head, and both titties and dick were not looking pretty. I put down my bags and stood there looking at the boy. I smiled. He screamed in agony behind the gag. Sweat ran down his face and dripped from his chin. I put things away and unpacked my bag. I emptied out his bag. I placed the photos of his girlfriend in a nice stack. I took his cds and put them into another stack. Then I removed his gag. His screams filled the room. I motioned for him to be quiet. "Your pain is no excuse to make such a racket," I said, though I doubt he understood. I ordered him to be quiet and when he did not stop screaming, I took the top cd off the pile and broke it right in front of him. His eyes focused and the scream stopped in his throat. You see, there was no need for him to scream like that. Once he was quiet, I sat next to him and stroked his sweaty body. He made all kinds of noises, quietly now. Finally I understood that he had to piss really badly. Remember his toes were tied up behind his neck, so he was in a very awkward position. I said I understood, and I cut the thread attaching his titties to his dickhead. He let out a sigh of relief, but still could not sit up straight because of his legs being bent up and his feet attached by the big toes with the thread behind his neck. I knew the cramps in his legs must be just about killing him. Imagine a constant Charlie horse! One you can't get rid of, no matter what you do. I tickled his cute feet a bit, but he hardly noticed. Next I snipped the thread through his dick skin and removed it. "Toilet, toilet," he muttered in English. You see, my methods even teach students to speak English and quickly. I went over to my purchases and returned with a plastic bowl. I lifted the boy's cute but very sore penis in my fingers and held it over the bowl. Then I indicated for him to piss. He looked wide-eyed at me, he couldn't believe I wanted him to piss tied up like that, in front of him. I shrugged as if to say you piss this way or not at all. He resisted for only a few seconds he must have had to piss really badly. I held the soft young dickhead over the edge of the bowl and after a bit he pissed a nice strong stream of yellow teen piss into the bowl. When the bowl was nice and full and the piss had diminished to a last few drops. I put my finger to his piss hole and took some of the piss drops onto my finger. Then I raised my finger to his sweet innocent face and started to wipe the piss on his full young lips. He groaned and tried to turn his head away, but trussed up as he was, hands behind his back and legs up and bent he was unable to do much. I held his face still, and dipping my fingers into the bowl of piss, I rubbed more of his own pee across his mouth. The piss mixed with the dried cum coating his lips, and soon his mouth was a fucking sewer. I tilted him back over on the sofa so he was lying on his back legs up around his head, banana sticking from his teenage ass. His head was now resting on the sofa cushion. I smiled down at him. Then I fetched the turkey-baster that I had bought at the market. I stick it into the piss bowl and sucked up a baster full of teen piss. Then I placed the end of the baster up the boy's left nostril, and gently started to squirt the piss back into him. You have to do this slowly and gently or it can cause damage. But if it's done right the piss goes down into his mouth and throat through the nasal passage. Believe me, it is not a very good feeling, or so I have been told. He was so fucking cute lying there, black hair slick with sweat, sweet young Asian boy face, turkey baster up his nose, coughing and spitting piss, crying, his body trussed up like the Thanksgiving turkey itself. All the while I shot the piss back into him, I gently stroked his body. "That a boy, that's a good boy," I whispered to him in my most soothing tones. When the baster was empty, I moved the bowl to the side bar, and then rewarded the boy by releasing his toes. His legs fell like wooden logs, they were numb I am sure and as the feeling started to return to them, he screamed with renewed agony. The pain was so great, his body started to spasm uncontrollably. I held him in my arms and stroked and kissed him, not even minding the bit of boy piss I tasted. I held him like that in my arms his naked body curled up his legs coming back to life with a vengeance. I reached down and gently inserted more of the banana, back up his tender asshole. He hardly noticed the discomfort in his ass because of the torment in his legs. Gestalt therapy is based upon that theory in part that humans will only notice the priority the thing foremost in their mind and then when that need is satisfied, the next need emerges. I knew the pain in his legs had diminished when he started to react to the discomfort in his newly formed cunt. I lifted his small lean teen body in my arms and gently set it on the floor, resting his head back on the sofa. He rested there, like a broken puppet, his nipples still threaded. I put the kettle on for tea. Some nice hot tea to revive him and make him feel better. When the water was boiling I went to the bag of goodies from the Burusera Shop and removed ten fuck filled condoms I had purchased. I got a cup and filled it with the boiling water, his eyes watched my every move. His mouth opened and closed but no words came out like a hungry little bird. I put the ten sperm clogged dick sheaths into the water, like tea bags, showing him my every move. The fuck slop from the rubbers got liquidy in the water, and soon strands of cock spooge trailed thorough the contents of the cup. The water grew cloudy with fuck. A few of the condoms were really gross, the boys must have cum in them five or six times. Soon I had a cup of Boycum tea. It was thick and syrupy with dick snot. Wisely, I had not used too much water, and so now I had a thick kind of prickslop soup. I sat down behind the boy on the couch, resting the back of his head on my crotch. I'm sure he could feel my hard on. I stroked his face and fixed his matted sweat slick hair a bit. Then I showed him the photos of the boys who had contributed to his tea. Several school boys, two hustlers, a boxer, a huge variety of men had jerked off to make this nice cup of tea. The moans he made came from somewhere deep inside him from his soul perhaps. I knew he wanted to die rather than be submitted to this new humiliation. I lifted the steaming cup of cum-tea to his lips and bade him drink. Of course he had no choice. I knew what was best for him. After a bit he drank. He gagged and almost puked but I put a hand over his mouth until he swallowed his vomit again. Then I gave him some nice dick-sauce-soup to wash it down. It was a lot of work for me, but it achieved its purpose. He now had tasted not only my cum, but the fucksnot of ten other men, he was becoming a slut boy, a boycunt. These images and activities would be burned into his mind forever. He finally finished his nice drink and I told him he was a very good boy. I then retrieved one more condom from my bag. This one was the grossest of all. It was stuck together with dried cum that was a revolting yellowish white, with globs of things in it, and pubic hair in the mix. The picture with the rubber was of a fat sumo wrestler type, but old and ugly. I showed my boy the picture, and then made him open his mouth and stick out his tongue. I gently rolled the dirty rubber onto the kid's tongue, so he now had a fuck filled condom on his tongue. It was really cute. Next I had him crawl into the bathroom for a nice cold shower, to clean him up real good. Watching him crawl with the banana sticking out of his fucked ass, I truly wished I could speak Japanese so I could have told him his fun was just starting. So I decided to call my friend the coach, and have him speak directly to the boy. That way, I could learn about the kid and he could learn about what I was going to do to him. What a lucky little fifteen-year-old. END ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ This story was written as an adult fantasy. The author does not condone the described behavior in real life. ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ Kristen's collection - Directory 23