I have always been a bit of a "bad 'un". At least that was how Harry, my stepfather, always referred to me. Admittedly five years after leaving school I had never had a job that had lasted more than a couple of weeks. In my defence I would say that the opportunities afforded to me amounted to pretty thin fare. The only available employment in my remote part of coastal Suffolk were of the menial, mind numbingly boring kind with absolutely no prospects of advancement.
A couple of my friends worked at the local turkey processing plant, picked up by the company bus at some unearthly hour and taken to the hellhole to pack meat into boxes. I wanted something better. I dealt a bit of cannabis to make some money. It wasn't a big earner but being careful and not falling into the trap of being a user I could make a couple of hundred a week, enough to enable me to survive and run an old banger. My one other advantage was that I had inherited my father's physique. I was tall, dark and good looking, so never short of girlfriends.
I met Debbie at the local filling station in the village. She was having trouble with the air machine, checking the tyres on her silver Mercedes SLK sports. I checked it out, the latest registration, a cool forty grand's worth of car. After I had fixed that for her she invited me back to her house for "coffee". Well we both knew what that meant. She was fifteen years older than me, a good looking lady with expensively cut auburn hair and a nice, trim figure, Sex with Debbie soon became a regular thing, she was virtually insatiable. She had recently moved down to Suffolk from London after a divorce from her wealthy husband. The village attracted a lot of incomers "DFL's" as the locals referred to them - "Down From London."
Beach Road was a development of expensive properties with sea views, all with price tags of half a million upwards. That was how I made my big mistake that was to change my life forever. I was driving down to her house one morning when I noticed the builder's trucks outside Marsh Farm. The old red brick farmhouse had been empty for about a year and appeared to now be in the midst of a total refurbishment. The house was isolated, approached by a long drive and, as the name implied, set out on the remote marsh behind the shingle beach that separated the house from the grey North Sea.
It occurred to me that once the builders left at night the site would be completely unguarded. Over the ensuing months I nicked a few bits and pieces, power tools and the like that could easily be sold on for a few quid. By this time things were dying off between Debs and myself. She had met up with an old university friend online and I was surplus to requirements. Unconcerned, I just moved on. It was then that I took what was to turn out to be a fateful interest in Marsh Farm.
The building work had been completed for a while and a big, black four wheel drive BMW was always parked outside. One afternoon in early September I noticed that it wasn't there. I kept a watch on the place, carefully casing it. Two days later the car was still missing and I decided that the owner must have gone away. I decided to wait until dusk and make my way across to the house and see what valuables I could find. I set off on foot at seven pm just as the light was beginning to fade, making my way along the footpath that skirted the farm. I scouted around and soon discovered a window that hadn't been secured properly. Forcing it open I slipped into the house.
Most of the stuff was out of my league. I wouldn't know an antique if it bit me. I was looking for more liquid assets, cash, maybe a bit of gold. I was still looking around, the thin beam of my torch picking out odds and ends that might or might not have been valuable when suddenly the light went on. Had I been gay what confronted me might have been the stuff of my dreams, instead it was more the distillation of every heterosexual man's nightmares.
He was big, not just tall, but heavily muscled. Arms and legs half as big again as mine. He wore only a pair of brief black underpants that did little to hide the fact that, even in this dormant state, he was very well endowed, My eyes were drawn initially to the bulge before I took in the rest of him. He could easily have been a character from a kid's comic. He would have been the evil SS soldier with his blond buzzcut and deep blue eyes set in a face that could have been chiseled from flint. He stood there, hands bunched into fists on his hips. He licked his lips as if he had just found some tasty morsel that he intended to devour.
"And what do we have here?"
Those six words were sufficiently accented that I could tell that he was not a native of Britain. In fact it would turn out that Kurt was Dutch. But that discovery was far in the future. For the present the only thing that concerned me was how I might get out of this situation. My first inclination was to run for the door. His massive body blocked my way. He probably had at least a thirty kilo advantage on me, all of that solid muscle. He grabbed me and wrenched my right arm up behind my back. I let out a shriek of pain and he threw me to the floor, standing over me, massive legs set apart. He was grinning.
It was now that things really took a turn for the worse. He opened the draw of a cabinet and withdrew a pair of handcuffs. Not the sort that the police use but the old fashioned style, heavier, solid looking and clearly very much up to the job in hand. Within seconds he had forced me face down on the floor. He drew my wrists together as the cuffs clicked shut behind my back.
"Please don't call the police."
He was straddling my back now, squatting comfortably astride me. I could feel his penis stiffening as he allowed his weight to pin me to the floor.
"Well that depends boy, what will you do to make amends for invading my house?"
I didn't understand what he was saying. I was puzzled as to what I could offer him by way of recompense for what I had done. He turned me over so that I was lying on my back, the steel cuffs digging into me uncomfortably. He shuffled himself further up my body so that he now straddled my chest. It was at this point that I noticed that he was now fully erect, the outline of his cock prominent beneath the shiny black material of his skimpy briefs. He pulled the front of his pants down to reveal the massive shaft with its dark purple head, his pisshole winking at me. There was no trace of hair, evidence of a very recent shave.
"If you give me decent head then we can talk about it".
As a straight guy I was horrified by the direction that this was heading. I knew mates had experimented, one had even explained to me that a guy giving oral was no different from a girl doing it. He even suggested that it might be better. But for me to suck this guy off. No, absolutely no way!
