No Panties

This story is a work of fiction. Any resemblance between characters portrayed and real persons alive or dead is entirely coincidental.

Warning, this chapter contains non-consensual sex scenes.

This story will contain scenes of sexual activity including between adult males, and between adult males and a late teenage boy, and in this chapter, non-consensual sex scenes. If you are under 18 or material of this nature is illegal in your present location, please leave now. By continuing to read on, you are confirming that it is legal for you to view the material in this story

This story is copyright to Arapiles, 2019.

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This is my second story for Nifty, so I guess I should be getting better. This is the third chapter of six.

My first story on Nifty is fty//gay/adult-youth/inkerman-street/

I welcome feedback, please send ail






I allowed myself time for an epic swearing session before I managed to clamp down again and think. Pulling the Beretta, I headed out the door, looking at the stairwell with all the skills I retained. There were marks, scrapes and dents from feet in the dust that accumulated in the stairwell, one set only shuffling. He wasn”t untied…and potentially, he was alone.

Heading down, I passed the ground floor exit towards the street, following the trail of marks on the concrete. Then something else; some blood, followed by a long scrape then more of the same. He had fallen, probably smacking his face on the concrete.

Moving fast, I headed down the second flight, into the carpark. I took it slow, despite the urgency, determined to make no more mistakes. There was nobody obvious in the carpark; at this time of day, it wasn”t all that busy. Come 6 pm there would be plenty of action but for now, the coast was clear.

I followed the scrapes, the occasional spot of blood lighting the trail like a beacon. Then I realised his goal; the boy was heading for my car. Breaking into a run, I headed for the big red Ford.

The boy had almost reached his goal, hanging onto a pillar as he lay on the concrete beside the car. He had pocketed my keys, and the passenger door was open. He was too intent on what he was doing to hear the approach; at the last second his senses warned him, eyes flicking sideways. I grabbed his hair hard, yanking him upright, while I pressed the muzzle of the Beretta against his neck.

“The fuck was the idea of this kid? Do you want to get your head blown off?”


“I said no escape attempts kid. Pity you are hard of hearing. It”s going to cost you. Now, what the fuck did you come here for? Can”t have been coming to drive it, not still trussed like this.”

“Nothing, honest…I…”

“Honest isn”t a word you should be using boy. Just like your fucking father…”

I punched him, only gently, in the stomach, but he doubled over just the same.


“P…phone…fell out of my pocket…”

I searched with one hand on the floor of the Ford. There, just under the passenger seat, my hand closed on something metallic. I pocketed the phone; grateful I had managed to avert another disaster at the hands of this zonguldak escort bloody boy. He was a real nuisance, just like his Dad.

The boy let out a cry as I pulled on his hair hard, drawing him close to my face.

“I should kill you now kid…you were warned.”

His eyes went wide, and his whole body shook. Good; I wanted him to stop this shit, and fear would help.


His feet barely touched the concrete as I pushed him across the carpark and up the stairs. Anger gave me strength, anger and adrenaline. I had feared everything was lost there for a brief terrible moment, and my blood was up.

We reached the room, and I slammed the door before pointing the boy towards the bed. I was about to shove hard sending him flying when he locked his ankle around my leg. Instead, my push sent both of us flying, the momentum I gave the boy partly transferred to my own legs as both of us hit the floor. I scrambled for him as he tried to use his bound hands to pull himself up on the chair. His bound feet kicked out, winding me as his hands scrabbled and finally pulled the chair down. Then he noticed something metal by his hands…something I had dropped in the scuffle. His hand closed on it just as I reached his leg, and he turned with a wild look in his eyes. It wasn”t his eyes I was concentrating on though, not at first. It was the mouth of my Beretta, pointing straight at me as I sat half upright on the floor next to the boy.

“Back…back off…now…”

“Easy boy. Don”t do anything stupid.”

“Shut up! I”ll fucking shoot, I will.”

“No you wont kid.”

“I will! Fuck you! Fuck my Dad! Fuck all of you, I don”t know what is going on here but I”m not taking it anymore!”

I sat for a second, weighing him up. Now I looked in his eyes; long and hard. He was terrified, and angry, and lost. I was too; but I knew how to deal with it. He didn”t.

“Fine kid. Pull the trigger.”


“I said, pull the trigger. Go on, do it. If you”re doing it, do it. I”m not letting you go.”

“I”m serious!”

“So am I kid. Shoot…”

I moved, slowly, bringing the muzzle against my chest, leaving my hands by my side for now.

“Go on…”

His hands shook, his face turned red, and tears started to flow. I was as calm as I have ever been on the outside, though my body felt the effects. Heart racing, I tasted the sharp tang of adrenaline. I felt something else too, the excitement, the sense of life that came in combat. I hadn”t felt this way in a long time.

My hand moved, quickly but easily, and before the boy knew it, the Beretta was in my hand. He fell back a little, deflated, and the tears flowed fully now.

“Not so easy, is it kid. To kill someone else; up close and personal. It”s not like a video game when you can smell their sweat, hear their breathing.”

I worked the slide, chambering a round, and placed the butt against his forehead. Blood hammered in my temple, and through the whole of my body. I was alive. Tension flowed; and found expression somewhere else.

Standing, I pulled him to his feet, the gun never leaving his head, soft whimpers all he could manage.

“I told you not to try and escape. I told you…and then you pulled this shit. Never, ever pull a gun on someone like that unless you are prepared to kill them. I thought I taught you that Woz.”

My hand moved, pulling back and scything tunalı escort through the air. The butt of the pistol connected with his mouth, sending blood spattering across his shoulder. His head snapped back, eyes rolling.

I tasted blood in the air, spots hit my chest, and its rich scent filled my mouth. I let out a wild growl, baring my teeth in anger. My hand worked automatically, moving the slide, ejecting the chambered round, then the magazine, then clicking the safety as I dropped the pistol to the floor. My blood was up; I wanted. I needed…

The boy flew across the carpet, landing on the bed, and I was on him in an instant, tearing at his boxers with my fingers until they were shredded. He was still bound, his hands trapped beneath him on the bed, gripping the bedclothes to try to get some purchase, feet trying to kick but now pinned uselessly against the bed. His body felt hot under mine, writhing, shaking, the scent of fear. And something else, young stud, musk…

“This is what you always wanted Woz…isn”t it…”

“No! Wait…please…umpf!”

I slapped the back of his head, his hair flying as his mouth slammed into the pillow. I bit down on his neck, the soft flesh warm in my mouth. Blood ran, and I licked it all up.

“I taught you never to hesitate Woz…you let me down Fuzzy…”

The beautiful body under me was so hot, lithe muscle under slick skin that mesmerised and aroused. I was aroused…achingly. I fumbled with my buttons, releasing a steel-hard cock. I could feel him against me now, the warmth of a stud, that velvet soft place, his crack, long taint naked of hair, thick ridged donut of his anus. I pressed my tip against him, delighting in his struggles.

“Never lose a fight Woz…”

My hips thrust. A scream shattered the day, drowned out by my harsh yell. I felt my cock sink in, spreading, piercing, plundering his twitching hole, stretching painfully, tearing. He struggled, and cried out, and I bit down on his neck again, hard enough to draw more blood, and the stud went slack, the only movement a slight twitch of his ass muscles between us, the sweat on his skin tickling my abdomen and making me even more aroused. I licked at the site of my bite, lapping at his neck, as I pulled back slowly.

“That”s it Woz…ohhhhh my Woz….so long….”

Then I rammed in hard, drawing a fresh cry and shudder, the head of my cock just grazing a pulsing nub of flesh. A swollen prostate…so sweet.

I fucked hard, rough, violent; a man claiming his prize, claiming his conquest. My stud took it silent now, soft moans and cries eventually lowering to a constant harsh breathing “ohhhhh” as I took his hole and made it mine. It felt good; it felt so good. The thought echoed in my head with each new thrust. I am alive. I am alive…

“Oh Woz….yes Woz…oh yes my love…yes…yes…yes…yes…”

It was coming; my groin filled with it, balls, cock, ass. One last harsh thrust and I rammed full length inside him, a final conquest, and his moan melted in my mouth as I pulled his to one side and kissed hungrily, my fingers wrapped in his hair. The volcanic fire of his ass engulfed my length, then I felt it throb and clench as he shook and whimpered. My dam burst, and I filled him, on and on, an ocean of cum for my stud bitch.

“Ohhhh God…WOZ!!!”

My body shuddered again then stilled, as did his. My breath tunceli escort heaved, and I felt the body under me, the warm lean mass, shaking. He was crying softly, the sweet skin on his back shaking. Then I saw his dyed hair tips, and the leanness of his back, and suddenly the blood lust left me and I realised what I had done. I had had one of those moments, the ones that came when I least wanted, when I was somewhere else.

“Mikey…oh God…Mikey…”

He didn”t respond. I held him, licking the wounds on his neck, nuzzling against him, then whispering in his ear.

“I”m sorry Mikey…I”m sorry. I lost it when you pulled the gun on me and…I”m sorry…please…I”m sorry…”

The boy pulled himself together enough to speak, but I still felt like dying inside.


“I”m sorry…”

“You called me Woz…”

“I…what? Of fuck…I”m sorry.”

“What the fuck did my Dad do to you?”

“It doesn”t matter.”

“Yes it fucking does. How…how could you…you look like a nice guy, I fucking liked you despite everything, fuck I even wanted you. Someone like you, to be my first, a strong older guy…why do you think I couldn”t shoot? Even to save my Dad…”

“Oh no….please, I”m sorry kid…really…”

“Whatever you think, you”re no better than him whatever he”s done.”

“Yes kid…you are right. It”s why I”m trying to set some things right.”

“Like this? This is how you set things right?!”

His eyes were wide now, and angry. I felt him recovering…and part of me wanted to see if I could help, make amends somehow. Another part of me wanted him so bad, the part that went berserk, still shouting inside my head.

I eased out of his ass, feeling his little hole close as I slid from him. I looked down at his asslips, red and sore, a trickle of cum and blood leaking from his hole. It was my turn to whimper now, as I touched his pucker…

“Yeah hold his legs apart!”

“Fuck you!”

“Hear that guys…little faggy Brian wants a fucking…guess we should oblige.”

“I”ll kill you…”

“Nick, you keep the little swimmer boy under control, I”ll take Brian here…”

“You touch Davey and I will kill you, that”s a promise. One night you will feel my hands around your throat and it will be the last thing you feel.” I stared into his eyes, and he knew I meant it. I couldn”t save myself, I wasn”t worth that anyway. But they couldn”t have my boy David. Not that…

The jock looked frightened now, brown eyes placid, but then he grinned and I felt his hands on my back.

“Fair enough…your little hole is all I need anyway. Don”t expect to still be in this school once the head hears about you…we took a photo of you sucking swimmer boy…your days are numbered. Now lie back and enjoy asshole…”

The jock crushed, heavy and unyielding. He stank, sweat and unwashed groin, and his breath was sickly sweet against my ear.

“Now, open up Brian…”


I was panting now, staring. The bile rose in my throat, and I ran for the sink, hurling until I couldn”t bring anything else up. I recovered slowly, turning to the boy still lying bound on the bed. He had turned to me, his expression a mixture, anger, shame, but also concern. If only there wasn”t concern; I had become what I most hated, an apotheosis in evil. Too many years of too much badness had finally claimed my soul before I had a chance to put my plan into action.

Reaching for the Beretta, I replaced the magazine, flicking off the safety and chambering a round. Then I walked to the boy. Before he could react, I pressed the gun into his hands still bound with cord.

“So, can you shoot now?”


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