How to Come Out to Your Parents

"You're too good for them." I put my hand on his thigh, and gave a little squeeze. His dozing cock jumped a little.

"I wish I had someone to be here to fuck with me, when I get home from work every night." An idea popped into his head. "Hey," he said. "How about you? How about you stayin' over here for a while, so I can fuck you when I get home from work. I'll give you a real good time," he promised.

"I'd really love that, Bo. Boy. Would I ever? But my parents don't know about me."

"They don't know? Why the fuck don't you tell them?"

"I don't think they'd be real happy," I explained.

"Well. Even if you don't stay here, you can come over a few times a week and take care of me. Right?"

"Where would I tell my parents I was going all the time? I was lucky just to be able to get here tonight. I told them I was going to a Bible class."

"So you won't come back and let me fuck you?"

"I can't. Except maybe once in a while."

"You don't like me," he accused. "You don't think I'm good-lookin'. You didn't like the way I cornholed you." He was getting very agitated. He had no self- confidence at all.

"No. I do like you. I think you're very good looking. And I wish I could get cornholed by you every night of the week. Really!" I insisted. "It's not me. It's my parents. I swear it."

"Well. We just gotta do somethin' about your parents," he said angrily. "I want you to be able to get your tight little ass over to my trailer, whenever I want it here."

"If only that were possible," I mourned.

"Where do you live?" he asked me.

I was starting to get nervous. "What are you thinking?" I asked him. "You'd better not tell my parents."

"What's your address?"

"No. I'm not telling you."

"Tell me, bitch," he threatened.

I held my ground. "No," I said.

Suddenly he grabbed my pants off the floor and reached into my pocket. Out came my wallet. I grabbed for it, but he pushed me away. Pretty roughly. He opened my wallet, and pulled out my Clearwater College student identification card. That had my name, which I had already told him, but it didn't have my address on it. So then, he pulled out my driver's license and got the address.

"Please. Don't tell my parents. Please." I was begging him. I was even starting to cry. My parents would throw me out. My life would be over. I would be branded as immoral and godless, and thrown into the streets."

"Oh. I ain't gonna tell them. Don't you worry that I'm gonna tell them. I ain't gonna say nothin' I just wanted to know where they lived. That was all. No reason. I sort of wanted to know just whose tight little ass I couldn't get no more of."

I tried to believe him, but I was nervous. My trip to Foggsville was turning from a dream into a nightmare. Maybe I would have been better off looking for a Bible class, than some trashy trailer guy's dick.

I got dressed in silence. "I guess I'd better go now," I said.

"Okay. And you just come back here whenever you want to. I'll always be glad to pork you."

"Thank you," I said. I shook his hand, as if we'd just completed a business meeting, and I left the trailer. I couldn't see too well in the dark, and I almost turned my ankle, dangling my foot to find that big step down onto the ground. I wasn't sure which was the right way through all those rows of trailers, and it took me almost a half hour to find my car. I would have even had trouble getting back to Bo's trailer. I sort of remembered where it was and how it looked, but there were so many. If I ever did want to come back and visit him, I would need a compass.

Finally I saw my car. I was so relieved I almost cried. I realized that I was in a sweat. Lost in the middle of a big trailer park. I could have died there and no one would have ever known.

I drove along the dark highways, and when I got to the Clearwater outskirts and started recognizing local landmarks..... What a relief. It was very late, and the house was dark when I pulled into the driveway. I quietly opened the front door and climbed the stairs up to my bedroom. I got into bed, but in the dark, I started to remember the hot videotape, and sexy, trashy Bo. And sexy, trashy Bo's big cock. And how it had felt in my asshole. And my asshole was still a little warm and tingly from his penile stimulation. But it was a good warm and tingly. I just kept concentrating on the warm and tingly sensation in my ass. Until I finally fell asleep.

Life continued as it always had. I went to classes. On Saturday nights I took Marcy to the school basketball game where the cheerleaders prayed for victory, and where we generally lost, despite the prayers. The Lord was testing our faith. That was all. But we were strong. We knew it was just a test.

Then after the game, we'd go into town to Bea's Malted Shoppe, and have Strawberry Phosphates. When I was alone in bed, I would think about Bo fucking me, and jerk off. I was so, so horny. I needed a cock so badly. But I didn't dare take another drive to Foggsville. And I was still a little nervous. Why had he looked in my wallet for my identification? When I said I was still a little nervous, that was a lie. The truth was I was very, very nervous.

But the weeks passed, and nothing happened, and I breathed a sigh of gratitude.

I realized that there was just no way I could ever let my parents know that I didn't like pussy as a boy was supposed to. That I liked cock. Just no way. What was my life going to be like? Infrequent furtive couplings in the dark? Never to have a love of my own? What was I going to do? I didn't want to even think about that now.

One night we sat down at the dinner table, and my mother brought the last plateful of corned beef hash and baked beans through the swinging door and set it on the table. We all sat down as always.

We all folded our hands gratefully in front of us.

"We thank thee, almighty Lord, for the food we are about to receive," said my father.

"Amen," said my mother. I said "Amen" too, but very softly.

I lifted a forkful of beans to my mouth and the doorbell rang.

"Who can that be?" asked my mother.

"Don't they know it's dinner time?" asked my father.

"Are you expecting anyone?" My father asked me accusingly.

"No, dad," I answered. "I'm not expecting anyone. Who could it be?"

My father went to the front door and my mother and I followed a few feet behind him. We were all very curious about this strange intrusion into our dinner hour.

"Who is it?" My father asked. He was being cautious. Though we had zero crime in Clearwater.

"Flower delivery," said a mail voice.

"I wonder who's sending flowers," said my mother. I wondered too.

My father opened the door and we all got the shock of our lives. There were three men standing out there with stockings over their faces and guns in their hands. They pushed into the house. We were terrified.

Their noses and faces were all pushed in under the stockings and you really couldn't tell what they looked like. But they were scary. I was scared. My father was scared. My mother was scared.

"What do you want with us?" Asked my mother.

"We gotta go through the house and see what you got," said the stockiest one of the three.

"Take what you want. Just don't hurt us," said my father.

They started looking around the first floor. The living room. The dining room.

"Oh. It looks like we interrupted their dinner," said the short skinny one.

"Yeah. It looks good," said the long skinny one. He walked over to the table and took a taste, lifting the stocking above his chin for a moment. "MMM. It is good. The old lady can cook."

Then they took the dining room chairs into the living room. They had rope with them, and they tied the three of us to the dining room chairs. The tall skinny one kept a gun on us and watched us, as the other two went through the house. They returned.

"Anything good?" the tall one asked.

"No. Nothing. They got nothing. Only a couple of crappy silver candlesticks. All the good stuff must be in the bank vault," said the stocky one.

"Take the television," suggested my father.

"Fuck the television," said the stocky one. What are we gonna do with a crappy television. But we gotta get something for our trouble now. Don't we?"

"What?" asked my father.

"Some fun," said the short skinny one.

"Yeah. Like maybe we each get a blowjob?" said the tall skinny one.

"And maybe we fuck," said the stocky one.

"Oh, god," screamed my mother. "No. No. Please. Anything but that. Please. Oh merciful Lord in heaven, please help us. Please help us. Don't let them rape me. " She was sobbing so hysterically, she was almost incomprehensible.

"Not you, lady," said the stocky one. "You're too fuckin' old."

"Then who?" asked my father.

"We're gonna fuck your boy here."

"No. No. Please. Rob us. Take something. But leave my boy alone. He's pure. Pure in body and in heart. Please don't touch him." My father pleaded.

"You don't want your boy to suck a cock?"

My father couldn't even answer that question. Just the 'c' word was enough to shock him into silence.

"Well," said the stocky one. "I'll give you a choice. We can fuck him or we can kill him."

My father was silent another minute. Then he made his decision.

"Kill him," said my father.

"No," screamed my mother. I never heard such a scream.

"But after this he'll be contaminated. He'll be a queer," explained my father.

"Don't kill him," blubbered my mother. "He's my baby."

"I guess we fuck him, then," decided the stocky one. My father said nothing. My mother sobbed.

They untied me from the dining room chair, and the three of them started to strip off my clothing. When I was naked, they started to unbutton themselves. There was something so familiar about them. I didn't know why. You couldn't tell what they looked like, with those stocking masks distorting their features. The stocky one was very big and very muscular. He looked so familiar. And that gold hoop earring in his left ear???

Now the shorter skinny one was naked and I noticed two silver piercings through his nipples. Where had I seen that before?

Now the tall skinny one was naked, and I looked down. His right kneecap had a happyface tattooed on it in yellow and red. And I knew. They were the three guys in the tape. The ones who were in prison. How had they gotten out? How had they escaped? And why had they come here? Bo had something to do with this, obviously. My thoughts were cut short, when the stocky one (Al) threw me on the living room couch face up. He straddled my chest, and leaning over, placed his large hard dick against my lips.

"Open your mouth," he said. I really didn't want to suck a cock in front of my parents. I kept my mouth closed. He gave me a fierce crack across my face. I yelped and started to cry. I was really frightened now. When I yelped, his cock gained entrance to my mouth. He pushed forward and straightening his legs, began to seesaw in and out of my mouth. I could feel the knob hit the back of my throat. I choked, but I was pinned under him. I had to take it. I looked over and saw tears dripping down my father's cheeks. His son was a cocksucker.

"Now, I wanna fuck," he said. "Turn over, bitch. Let me see that boypussy."

I turned over. I was glad to get that thick dick out of the back of my throat. Al separated my crack and spit a few gobs onto my sphincter. He pulled my cheeks further apart, until the hole opened a little, and I could feel his mucous running in.

Now his body covered mine, from the back. The cock pushed in, and I just lay there like a lump and let him have his way with me. I couldn't act as if I were enjoying it, now could I?

He smacked the back of my head. "Fuck my dick, bitch. I want to feel your pussy sucking out my cum. Fuck me, bitch. Fuck my dick."

I put my rear into active mode. I was afraid not to.

"That's it. That's better," said Al to me, and also to Chester and Rodney who were standing a foot away, watching with eager eyes. Both were jacking their large dicks lasciviously. Chester twisted my face toward him, and squatted a little, so that Wimpy was at the same level as my mouth."

"Suck it," he ordered. I did. Al was fucking me, and I was sucking Wimpy, Chester's cock. Rodney was still stroking himself.

Al's dick really felt good in my ass now. But not as good as Bo's. Nobody's cock was as good as Bo's.

"You want my load in your pussy, bitch?" asked Al.

I didn't speak.

"Answer me, bitch." He slammed me on the back of my head again. "You want my hot load in your pussy?"

"Yes," I said. "I want your hot load in my pussy." I looked over, and my father's face was slumped on his chest in defeat. He was glassy eyed. My mother was unconscious. She had passed out.

Al started hip-battering my buttcheeks, and I felt his dick swell inside me and shoot his cum into me. "Great ass," he yelled. "Ahh, yeah. Great ass. Nice and wet and sloppy now with my juice."

He got up off me, and made a big show of scooping his fingers into my hole to collect his cum. He brought it over and held it in front of my father. "You know what this stuff is on my fingers? "

My father wouldn't answer.

"It's my hot cum. I just got it out of your son's ass. See my slippery cum." He started rubbing all his fingers together in front of my father's eyes. "Your turn," he said to Chester.

Chester walked over in front of my parents, and waggled his dick before their eyes.

"This is Wimpy," said Chester. "Wimpy's gonna fuck your kid's hot ass. Say hello to Wimpy." He kept waggling his dick an inch in front of my father's eyes.

My father said nothing.

"Say hello to Wimpy, goddamn it," yelled Chester. Rodney walked over and waggled the gun in front of my father's eyes.

"Say hello to Wimpy," ordered Rodney.

"Hello, Wimpy," said my father through clenched teeth.

"I know your hands are tied, so I won't make you shake Wimpy's hand," said Chester. "I ought to make you kiss his cheek, like the French do."

My father grimaced and shook his head energetically. What a horrible thought.

"Okay," laughed Chester. "Never mind. Wimpy'll just fuck your son now.

Chester came back to the couch and got on top of me and slid his dick into my ass.

I had envied Luke on the videotape. Getting those three big rods inside his ass. Well, now it was happening to me. I was getting everything he got. I felt Chester's silver metal nipple piercings scraping against my back, as he hunched his ass into me. Oh, yeah. It felt so good. Really good. I couldn't help but to respond and move my ass around his cock.

"Oh, baby. What a nice loving ass," he said to me, and stuck his tongue into my ear. "We got ourselves a good one, guys," he announced. After a few more minutes of working together, he began to spray my insides with Wimpycream. As soon as he climbed off me, Al reached down and stuck his fingers inside my ass to gather Chester's cum. When he pulled his fingers out, I could feel more juice leaking out of my hole, running down my cheeks, over my balls and onto the sofa.

Al walked over to my father again, flashing his scummy fingers.

"You know what this is?" he asked my father.

No answer.

This is my friend's cum. I just scooped it out of your little boy's asshole. Your son is a faggot man. A fucking queer. Say it. Repeat after me. My son is a faggot. My son is a fucking queer."

No answer.

Al started to run his sticky fingers over my father's face. "Say it," he ordered. "Or I'll have to hurt you."

"My son is a faggot. My son is a fucking queer," said my father tonelessly.

"That's better," said Al. "Now I wanna hear you say, I love my faggot son."

"I love my faggot son," intoned my father dutifully.

"Say it like you mean it," yelled Al.

"I love my faggot son. I love my faggot son," repeated my father endlessly. My mother was now awake and she was crying again. And now my father started to cry, as he kept saying, "I love my faggot son."

"I love my queer gay son," ordered Al.

"I love my queer gay son," said my father.

"You too, lady," screamed Al.

"I love my queer gay son," said my mother immediately. At least she sounded like she meant it.

Now it was Rodney's turn. I remembered that he liked to fuck face to face. He turned me over, just as he had turned Luke over. He crawled between my legs on his plain knee and his happyface knee, and fed his long dick in. He settled down on me, and I had no choice but to wrap my arms and legs around him. The couch was very narrow. It wasn't like a bed where you could spread your limbs to the side.

Rodney was making sex noises. "Unnnggghhh. Unnngggg." Etc. Etc.

The sounds, and the feel of his dick in my ass, and his balls against mine were making me so hot. I couldn't restrain myself anymore. I was fucking him back like the slut I was, and as my ass muscles clamped around his hard rod, something happened inside of me, and I felt an itchy burning shooting up my hard cock. I shot my own load up onto his pubic hairs. The clutching of my quivering ass became too much for him, and now a third load of cum (Rodney's, this time) shot into my guts. So wet. So warm. So soothing.

Now Al was untying my father and dragging him over to the couch. He took my father's hand and forced my father's fingers into my slimy running asshole. Now it was my father scooping out the cum. The fingers came out, and Al bent my father's arm so that his hand was right in front of his eyes.

"See that wet shiny stuff. That's mancum. You know were you got that? You got that out of your son's ass. Your queer faggot son has mancum inside him. How do you feel about your son?"

"I love my queer faggot son," my father said dutifully. I'm not sure he even knew what he was saying anymore. It was possible that the shock of the evening had robbed his mind forever.

Al retied my father to the dining room chair. He held the gun on the three of us while Rodney and Chester got dressed. Then he handed the gun to Rodney to cover us while he slipped into his own garments.

"Your boy, here, has a terrific ass on him," Al told my father. "How did you like all that cock in your ass, kid? It was great wasn't it?"

"Yes," I said. I was afraid to tell that man anything else but what he wanted me to say, which was really the truth. Of course, I had loved it. I was a gay man. I loved dick. Even with my parents there, which had been awkward and embarrassing, it had felt wonderful. But when I said 'yes' I saw a despairing look flit across my father's face.

"Now you're gonna need lots more. Lots more cock to keep that hot little ass happy. Won't you boy?" Al pursued.

"Yes," I agreed. "Lots more cock." And suddenly everything became clear. I realized that Al, and Chester, and Rodney had come here for a purpose. To out me to my parents. I could stop suffocating in my closet now. I could say that they had done this to me. They had caused me to be gay. I wasn't to blame. They had made me like cock. They had enlisted me into male/male sex. It wasn't my fault I liked cock. It was all their fault. And I knew that Bo was behind their visit. I owed him a big favor.

"You're always gonna need cock now. You realize that, don't you, kid?" That was Al again.

"Yes," I said, nodding my head. "I'm always gonna need cock now. Thanks to you dirty bastards." I was playing along. Al gave me a little secret smile.

"You wait five minutes after we're gone," he told me. "Then you can untie Ma and Pa over there. But not a second sooner. We don't want anyone to get hurt, do we? You understand me?"

"Yes," I said.

They went out the front door, still in their stocking masks. They closed the door behind them. I sat on the couch, facing my parents. I wasn't going to untie them for five minutes. I was going to follow my instructions to the letter. I knew how dangerous those guys were.