The Telemachus Story Archive

All The Fun Of The Fair
By Hooder
Email: hooder@ntlworld.com



ALL THE FUN OF THE FAIR

Joey threw his cigeratte end into the gutter and looked at the wad of flyers in his hand. He groaned - there were hundreds left to deliver. With a sigh he opened the gate to number 27 and walked up the front path. Halfway to the house he stopped. "Oh yeah." There on the drive was a motorcycle. It was a Kawasaki dirt bike - a green one, although under its thick layer of mud it was not easy to tell. There was a patterned trail of dried mud along the smooth tarmac of the drive, ending under the knobbly tyres of the bike. Joey grinned - that was his kind of bike. He sighed again, peeled a flyer off the stack in his hand, and moved his hand towards the letterbox.

It never got there. As his hand approached, the door opened and he found himself staring directly at a bulging, leather-jeaned crotch. He glanced upwards. "Oh fuck," he whispered.

The boy was as startled as he was, his blue eyes wide with surprise. Ricky was eighteen, with short dark hair, and his firm, tight body bulged out of his leather one-piece - which was currently unzipped down to the waist - in a way which almost made Joey's eyes water. He held a white crash helmet in his hand.

"Nice leathers..." Said Joey. "Who are you?" Ricky asked.

Joey handed him the flyer. "Fair's in town. I'm delivering these."

Ricky glanced at the paper then put it on the table by the phone. "Oh right. Ta." He lifted up his helmet and began to fasten it up.

Joey couldn't take his eyes off the boy's crotch. It looked like he had a pair of socks stuffed down there - but Joey was fairly certain it wasn't socks. He had to keep this boy talking. Fuck, he was gorgeous. "Nice bike. Had it long?"

Ricky moved past him and pulled the door closed behind him. "About a year." He walked towards the bike.

"I'm a biker as well. Honda 350." Joey touched his own black leather jacket as if it were proof.

"Right." The boy clearly wasn't interested in talking. He inserted the ignition key. The view from the back was every bit as good as from the front - Ricky's butt was round and smooth under the leather one-piece suit which had once been white, but which now was scuffed and muddied all over. It was impossible to tell what colour his chunky motocross boots had been - they were now completely caked in mud.

Joey just wanted to bend the boy over the bike, and fuck him senseless. As if granting his wish, Ricky leaned over the seat of the bike to switch turn the petrol tap on. Joey got an instant hard-on in his tight jeans. His mouth hung open in disbelief at the vision of pure sex before him. "Oh fuck," he said.

"What?" Ricky straightened up and turned to Joey - whose eyes were still rivetted to the boy's crotch.

Joey had to say something, but he couldn't think of anything. "Er.. nice..." He said, lamely.

Ricky looked down, following Joey's gaze, wondering if his zip was undone or something. Then he realized. He took a step towards Joey and grabbed the lapel of his leather jacket, thrusting his helmeted face forward aggressively. "You a fucking faggot?"

Joey had worked with the fair since he'd been twelve, and could take care of himself - but being so close to such a beautiful boy somehow bypassed his fighting instincts. "Yeah. And I fancy you like fuck." He said, standing his ground.

"Well I'm fucking straight. Ok? So piss off." Ricky glared at Joey through the opening in the helmet for a moment, then with one push, threw him backwards into a bed of hollyhocks. He got onto the bike, kicking the engine into life with his booted foot and, holding the front brake on, raced the engine and spun the back wheel in a half-circle, turning the bike round one hundred and eighty degrees in a couple of seconds. White smoke from the two-stroke and from burning rubber was everywhere. Now pointing towards the road, he turned his head to Joey and spat, "fucking faggots," before powering the bike out of the drive and away down the road.

Joey pushed a flower out of his face, looked at the circle of rubber left on the drive and squeezed his cock through his jeans. "Shit!" he said.

* * *

Joey loved life with the fair - it was hard work and it could be rough, but he wouldn't swap it for anything. From March to November it toured cities and towns throughout the country, and he made enough money to enjoy the three months off. But by the end of the break he was always eager to get back on the road. He loved the smells, the sounds, and the atmosphere of excitement that was always there. And he loved the boys.

Joey was nineteen, and fit. Most of the work was very physical, and it kept him in great shape. Like all of the guys who worked on the fair, he was tanned and muscular. He knew he was sexy, and wore gear that showed his body off best: tight black leather jeans with no underwear, bike boots and a tight ripped teeshirt was what he was usually to be found in, and a studded leather jacket for when he was on the bike or cruising for boys. He did well for boys - they seemed to find him irresistable.

It was eight o'clock in the evening, and the fair was packed. Joey stubbed his cigarette out and took a deep breath of the warm summer air, looking around happily. He was leaning against one of the generator trucks, its hot chassis vibrating pleasantly against his back. The thick black electric cable snaked away through the grass to the "Shrieking Castle" - the ghost-train ride he worked on. True to its name, screams and laughter issued from within its dark interior. A couple of passing girls looked over and smiled coyly at him, whispering and giggling at the sight of a hunky, goodlooking boy in bulging leather jeans and a skintight teeshirt. He smiled back briefly, but then looked away, not wanting to encourage them. His break was almost over, and he pushed himself up, ready to get back to work. It was then that he saw the boy.

Ricky was stood in line for the ride, snogging a girl who didn't seem to be quite as into it as he was. She kept giggling and pushing him away. Stupid girl, he thought. Ricky looked good enough to eat: he was still clutching his helmet, but now he was wearing black bike boots, tight faded jeans (which Joey noticed were - doubtless because of his snogging - bulging even more than his leathers had been) and a black leather jacket. Oh shit, thought Joey, if it was me, I wouldn't be pushing him away!

Joey walked around the back of the generator truck and came up behind the pair. There was a junction box on the ground which he pretended to inspect - that allowed him to be close enough to hear their conversation.

"You said you would tonight, for fuck's sake!" Ricky complained. She fiddled with her handbag.

"I don't want to."

Ricky nibbled her ear. "I've been saving myself for tonight. Haven't cum for three days."

"Ricky!" The girl squirmed in embarrassment. "Don't..."

The boy pushed his crotch against her thigh. "Feel that? It's hard for you, Terri."

"Stop it!"

"It's dark in there," he nodded his head towards the Shrieking Castle. "You could at least give me a blowjob."

"No! I don't want to go on that ride. It's too scary."

Ricky swore. "Look, come on the fucking ride. A hand job then."

"No. Let's go back to the others. We can go on the dodgems."

"Fuck the dodgems. And fuck you. I'm going on this. I'll have a fucking wank."

Terri looked at him for a moment, a look of pure disgust on her face. "That's all you think about isn't it? Well if you do, you can find somebody else. I'm going back to Dave and Sue. I'll see you there." With that she stormed off, leaving Ricky on his own.

"Fuck you," he said. Joey stood up and quietly made his way to the back entrance of the ride. He was smiling as he took the walkie-talkie from his belt. "A-Team, you there?"

The three answers came back almost immediately. "Yeah"; "What's up?"; "Hi Joey"

"Come to the Castle - now. I need your help with something. And Buzz, bring the rope, the handcuffs and your spare leather jeans..."

The Shrieking Castle was like a ghost-train: small two-seater cars on rails ran through an assortment of suddenly-opening doors, shaking skeletons, flashing lights, mummies that appeared out of nowhere, and other gruesome effects. It was quite a large ride - one of the biggest in the fair, in fact, and apart from the sequenced lights, the inside was totally dark. The track was a big loop, with many bends and changes of level, and just inside the first pair of swinging doors was a set of points which could divert a car into the maintenance area at the back. This was just a room - dimly-lit with a single orange bulb - where a car could be repaired before being sent back onto the main loop. It smelled of oil and ozone from the electrical systems. Before his break, Joey had finished oiling one of the cars, and had sent it on its way. The room was now empty, the steel rails shining in the dim light.

The 'A-Team' - Simon, Buzz and Whacko - were lads who had worked on the fair almost as long as Joey had. They were all about the same age: nineteen, twenty; they dressed the same - in leather jeans and teeshirts; they were all as fit and as muscular as Joey, and they were all bikers. Joey and Buzz were gay, the other two straight - but they were all good mates, up for anything and were always quick to help each other out.

When they'd all arrived, Joey told them about the boy Ricky, what had happened when he'd been delivering the flyer, that the boy was waiting for the ride right now, and about his conversation with the girl.

"So what do we do?" Asked Buzz, with an evil grin on his face.

"Ok." Joey went to the peephole and looked through at the queue for the ride. "He's next car but two." He turned back to the boys. "Here's the plan..."

* * *

Ricky was still fuming. He had half a mind to piss off and leave Terri and the others here. But he knew he wouldn't. He always got like this when he was so horny - blue balls made him irritable. And who knows - he might be able to talk her into something when they got home.

"Two fifty please." He reached into the pocket of his tight jeans and struggled to get the money out. He handed it to the guy in the booth and climbed into the small car. Another guy locked the safety rail down across his stomach and with a lurch the car set off, banging through the double doors into darkness.

With a recorded scream, a ghoulish face - its fangs dripping with fake blood - lunged towards him, but immediately the car turned sharply to the left leaving the ghoul screaming at nothing. There was a bump as the car thrust its way through another set of doors, and Ricky had a brief glimpse of orange light before something cold, black and shiny dropped over his head and he was engulfed in the smell of leather.

Buzz and Whacko were standing on either side of the track just inside the doors of the maintenance room, holding Buzz's leather jeans - turned inside out - spread out between them. Simon was ready with handcuffs, and Joey had his hand on the switch for the points. The moment the car came through the doors, the two boys dropped the leather jeans over Ricky's head, wrapped the legs around his face and tied them tightly at the back, enclosing the startled boy in folds of loose, thick black leather. At the same time Simon hit the safety rail release and, together with Buzz, pushed the boy forwards, grabbed his arms and handcuffed them behind his back. Joey - having reset the points for the next car - ran over with the rope and tied Ricky's ankles together tightly. The whole thing had taken seconds, and they'd got Ricky helpless.

Together they lifted the struggling boy out of the car and took him to the workbench. He was swearing fit to bust inside the black leather jeans-hood. Holding him tightly, they bent him over the bench, removed his cuffs and pulled his arms forward, tying his wrists to the tops of the far legs of the bench. Joey and Buzz unfastened the rope round his ankles and, straining against his kicking, secured them tightly to the bottom of the bench legs. For good measure they roped his thighs to the supports as well.

Ricky had stopped struggling - he realized he wasn't going anywhere. Although it was hot inside the thick leather enclosing his head, he could breathe ok. But he couldn't see what was going on. He was tied, blindfolded, and helpless. Then he felt hands caressing and stroking over his body: they ran over his leather jacket, across his arse, over his legs. One hand stroked up between his thighs, tickled his balls for a moment, and then closed gently around his bulging cock. 'FUCK OFF!" He screamed, and with all his strength tried to close his legs together - but the ropes around his thighs prevented any movement, leaving his bulge vulnerable and accessible while the fingers continued to stroke, tease and caress his cock - which was rapidly hardening against his will.

He shook his head, desperately trying to dislodge the leather that was blindfolding him - he was fairly sure that it was that cocksucker who'd delivered the flyer the other day, but he couldn't be sure - and there was more than one of them. If he could see them, identify them, then they were history. But the hood wouldn't budge. It stayed fairly still as he turned his head inside it, and he could feel the smooth leather against his face. There was a fold of some kind immediately in front of his nose, and he put out his tongue to explore it - and then he felt the zip underneath the fly. Shit! It was a pair if leather jeans! He spat and grimaced as he realized what he'd just licked. A guy's cock had been under there - and, knowing these faggots, probably with no underwear.

His cock was fully hard inside his tight jeans now, and someone was scratching their fingernails over the head. Of all the days this could have happened to him, it had to be when he hadn't cum for ages and he was bursting with spunk. Oh shit, that felt so fucking horny...

Joey removed his hand from the bulge of Ricky's cock and stood up. He reached slowly around the boy's waist and began to undo his jeans.

The instant Ricky realized what he was doing he started to struggle. "Fuck off you faggots. Get the FUCK off me!"

Joey winked at Buzz, who was squeezing his own hard cock through the leather of his jeans. "Yeah.." he whispered. Ignoring the boy's protests, Joey unfastened the top botton of the Levis, then gripped the tab of the zip fastener and, intentionally slowly, began to pull it down. Millimeter by millimeter it opened, and Ricky's struggling got progressively more violent as it went down. Joey was grinning, enjoying every moment of this. When the zip was fully down, Joey reached inside - and his eyebrows went up. "No underwear?" he whispered into the helpless boy's ear, "that's naughty." He stroked a fingertip along the hard, warm shaft of the cock very lightly, then rubbed it in small circles where the shaft met the head. This brought a groan of lust from the boy, who was still struggling as much as his restraints would allow.

Carefully Joey wrapped his fingers around Ricky's cock and pulled it out of his jeans. The edge of the bench held it pointing downwards, and he gently caressed the tip of the head. Precum oozed out onto Joey's fingers. "You're a horny boy, arent you?" He whispered. "Well, we're gonna do something about that." Joey straightened up and, with Simon's help, pulled Ricky's jeans over his hips and worked them down as far as the thigh ropes would allow.

The boy's balls hung between his legs unprotected, vulnerable, and sensitive... Although Simon and Whacko were straight, they both had hard-ons inside their jeans and were playing with them through the leather. It might not be a girl, but this was still as horny as fuck. Despite their different sexualities, they all shared one major turn-on: leather.

Simon picked his bike jacket up from where he'd dropped it when he'd come in, and squatted down between Ricky's spread legs. He took one of the sleeves and laid it across his open hand, then reached between the boy's thighs and cupped the dangling balls, enclosing them in the cool, smooth leather. He rubbed the jacket over Ricky's inner thighs, then took the other sleeve and wrapped it around the boy's rock-hard cock, stroking it slowly up and down the length.

Ricky gasped - the feel of the cold leather on his balls and cock was indescribably horny. Involuntarily his hips began to thrust, driving his cock in and out of Simon's leather-covered hand - but with a chuckle, Simon took his hands away. The sight of this helpless, horny biker boy - his head hooded by black leather jeans, his horny cock being teased with the leather jacket - made all the lads want to cum. But there was more to do.

Joey unzipped his jeans and got his cock and balls out. He opened a condom and rolled it over his steel-hard cock, then took the bottle of lube Buzz handed him and coated his cock with it. Very gently - his intention was not at all to hurt Ricky - he inserted the head into the boy's arse hole and slowly pushed it home.

As they'd expected, Ricky went ballistic, but the leather wrapped around his head and the noises of the fairground ride covered his yelling completely. As soon as he'd felt the tip of the cock touch his arseshole and begin to push, Ricky knew what he was in for. "NO!" He yelled. "NO! FUCK OFF YOU FAGGOTS! I AM FUCKING STRAIGHT! FUCKING NOOOOO!" But he also knew that no amount of shouting was going to stop them.

His arse began to burn as the sphincter opened wide to accept the cock - but to his surprise the further in it went the less it hurt. Finally he felt the rapist's balls make contact with his perineum and knew that was it. He realized he'd been holding his breath, and now he let it out in a long gasp. As whoever it was started to fuck him slowly, he could feel the boy's leather jeans brushing against his bare skin with every stroke. And oh fuck, it felt good. At each point of deepest penetration, the invading cock rubbed against something that sent waves of intense pleasure through his body; and before he knew it, he found himself pushing against the rapist, encouraging him to be less gentle. Ricky squeezed the muscles of his arse tightly, bringing a moan of lust from whichever boy it was doing it.

Suddenly there were fingers tickling his balls again. This added fuel to the fire burning within Ricky, and he thrust his pelvis hard against the raping cock with every stroke. Joey's eyes were clenched shut in ecstasy as he responded to Ricky's thrusting and drove his cock into the biker like a piledriver. It seemed the helpless boy couldn't get enough.

With a yell, Joey came, pumping his spunk into the condom inside Ricky. He pulled out slowly, aware of Ricky's continued movements, and stepped aside.

Buzz raised his eyebrows questioningly.

Joey smiled. "Be my guest," he said.

Buzz's cock was substantially bigger than Joey's but it still slipped inside Ricky easily. He began slow, rhythmic thrusting. Quiet groans of pleasure could be heard coming from Ricky.

Simon wasn't particularly ineresting in watching the fucking - as he played with his own bulging cock, his eyes were moving between Buzz's tight leather-clad legs and the leather jeans blindfolding the restrained boy. It didn't matter to him that the victim was a boy - any sexual event in which leather was used turned him on. In his mind he imagined what the leather was doing to Ricky: he could almost feel Buzz's skintight leather-jeaned thighs sliding across his bare legs. He looked at the boy's head - those jeans, turned inside out, so that the shiny black leather pressed over his face; he could lick it; pull it between his teeth and bite on it... And he knew that Rickie needed to see who the boys were; he needed to know who was raping him and who was helping.. who they were, what they looked like. He needed to be able to identify them. But those black leather jeans were blindfolding him so that he couldn't see them however much he wanted to.. and he couldn't get them off his head. They were making him helpless...helpless in black leather...those leather jeans were helping to rape him.......

By the time Simon had yanked his zip down and got his cock in his hand he was already cumming. Gobs and strings of sticky white spunk flew everywhere, splashing on the oily boards on the floor.

Whacko had been watching quietly, playing gently with his hard cock through his own jeans - but now he walked to the other end of the bench, where Ricky's hooded head lay half on and half off the edge of the table. While Buzz fucked the boy with slowly increasing speed, Whacko took Ricky's head in his hands and very carefully lifted the waistband of the leather jeans up until the boy's mouth was exposed. He adjusted the jeans around his head so that the waistband was pressing tightly against his upper lip under his nose, to ensure that the boy remained completely blindfolded and unable to see anything. Then he took his cock out and pressed the tip against Ricky's lips.

Horny as the boy was, he couldn't bring himself to suck another guy's cock, and he clamped his lips tightly shut and shook his head. Unperturbed, Whacko withdrew his cock and instead pushed his leather-jeaned thigh against Ricky's mouth. This appeared to be acceptable, and Ricky began to lick the leather tentatively.

After a few seconds the boy got into this and began licking long and hard. His head was moving backwards and forwards with the pummelling Buzz was giving him, and he automatically synchronised his licking with these movements.

Very gradually Whacko turned his body so that Ricky's licks got closer and closer to his open fly. Soon the boy's tongue was licking the edge of the zip - and then the shaft of Whacko's cock. Whacko pressed his hand tightly over Ricky's leather-blindfolded eyes and in one deft movement timed to the biker's back-and-forth motion, slipped his cockhead between Ricky's lips.

Ricky was now so horny that he didn't miss a beat. He opened his mouth and sucked Whacko's cock in as far as he could, even using his tongue to lick around the head. Whacko closed his eyes and groaned in pleasure. Straight as he was, a blowjob is a blowjob. The feel of the leather jeans against his hand as he continued to press it over Ricky's eyes was wonderful. He ran his other hand over his own leather-clad thighs.

Simon had been watching his friend and now picked up his jacket and went to stand behind Whacko. Opening it with the shiny side toward him, he reached over Whacko, pulled it across the boy's face and held it tightly around his head. This was all the trigger Whacko needed - he moaned and licked the shiny leather, and came into Ricky's sucking mouth. The biker tried to pull away, but Whacko held his head tightly, keeping him in place. Ricky had no option but to swallow the spunk as it jetted out of Whacko's cock.

Buzz was almost cumming. He was thrusting his cock powerfully into Ricky's arse now with long strokes, and then with a yell he arched his back and pushed his cock into the boy right up to the balls as he shot his load into the condom.

Ricky could feel the boy's cock pulsating inside him and it felt wonderful. For the last ten minutes he had needed to cum more urgently that ever in his life before - but he couldn't. There was nothing touching his cock. Held down by the edge of the bench, it stuck out into only air. He groaned as Buzz pulled his cock out, and waited for someone to make him cum. But then he felt fingers pulling his jeans back up. NO! "NO! LET ME FUCKING CUM YOU BASTARDS!"

His cock was pushed back inside the tight faded denim, the zip carefully pulled up, and the top button fastened. Suddenly the jeans around his head were pulled back down, enclosing him completely again in thick black leather. Hands clamped over his eyes and - now - his mouth as well. He struggled to breathe in the hooding leather.

Then he felt a hand between his thighs. It started where the rope was, and travelled up slowly, tickling and teasing, to his balls. A second hand touched the back of his leg and started to tease and stroke there - then a third began on the other thigh. A fourth touched his hip and worked its way slowly and teasingly around to his cock. There were fingers all over his legs, arse, thighs, perineum, balls and cock - all tickling and teasing, stroking and caressing lightly and slowly. Ricky was in an agony of need: he HAD to cum.

Then those fingernails were back, scratching over the head of his cock through the thin faded denim. That was what sent him over the edge. He took a deep breath and SCREAMED into the leather as his spunk boiled out of his balls and pumped into his tight jeans. The bench shook with the violence of his struggling as he came and came and came. The fingers continued to stroke and tease, scratch and tickle, until he collapsed in exhaustion, milked dry.

He was able to put up no fight as the boys released him from the bench, and put him back into the car. Freddy and Whacko untied the leather jeans around Ricky's head but held them in place so that the boy remained blindfolded until Joey, waiting to get the timing right, changed the points and sent the car on its way. A split second before it disappeared through the double doors they pulled the leather jeans off the biker's head. The doors slammed closed behind the car.

Ricky sat in a daze as the car completed its gothic journey through the phony horrors of the Shrieking Castle - after what had just happened to him, plastic skeletons did not impress. It was not until he came out into the brighter lights of the fair outside that he realized the state his jeans were in: there was a dark blue spunk stain covering the entire left side of his crotch and his thigh. Doing his best to hide it, he climbed out of the car, pushed through the thronging crowds and found a place to sit down on the grass at the side of the generator truck. He rubbed his eyes with his hands.

"Oh, hi mate."

Ricky looked up. Leaning on the truck, a cigarette in his mouth, was the boy who'd delivered that flyer. Bike boots, leather jeans, and a white teeshirt. Ricky looked for evidence of spunk on the boy's jeans, but he couldn't see any.

"Saw you come out the Castle. It's supposed to be scary, but it doesn't usually effect people like that..."

Ricky looked at the grass he'd collapsed onto, then back up at the boy. "What's your name?"

'Joey. What's yours?"

"Ricky. You been standing there long?"

"A while." He smiled. "A short while."

Ricky looked towards the ride, then back to Joey, trying to figure out whether the boy could have got there before him. He couldn't decide.

"You all right mate?" Asked Joey.

"I'm... sore. But yeah, I'm ok." He found himself gazing at Joey's jeans, remembering the feel of a boy's - two boys' - leather-jeaned thighs bumping against his arse as he was soundly fucked; remembering the feel of the leather enclosing his head, hands pressing it tight across his face, blindfolding him; remembering that stunning, earth-shattering orgasm... He blinked, realizing he'd been staring at Joey's crotch and felt he had to say something. "Nice leathers..." he whispered.

Joey gave his bulging cock a single squeeze. "Yeah - they've seen some action."

Ricky thought about Terri. She was a lost cause. She never gave out. But this boy had given him one of the best orgasms of his life - well, he and his friends had. He had never realized that leather and boys and sex could be so ... so horny. He opened his mouth to say something - to ask Joey if he would... but closed it again. He couldn't be sure it was the boy who'd done this to him tonight. Ricky felt like he'd just woken up from a dream so intensely, emotionally addictive that he longed to get back into it - but with dreams like that you never could. He wanted to be tied up again. He needed to feel leather against his skin, a cock in his mouth or up his arse. He yearned for teasing fingers on his thighs and balls and cock... He needed it so badly. And Joey was from that dream. Was he?

No, he probably wasn't.

Ricky drew in a deep breath and stood up. He'd better get going. Go back to that fucking Terri - or rather that NOT-fucking Terri.

There was a small smile on Joey's face as he stubbed his cigarette out and watched Ricky get up off the grass. "You look like you've had a good time." He nodded to Ricky's stained jeans.

Ricky followed the boy's gaze to his crotch and then stared into Joey's eyes. "Yeah. Oh yeah, I had a good time." He broke eye contact abruptly. "Shit!"

"What?"

"I left my crash helmet in the Shrieking Castle."

Joey bent down and picked something up from behind him. "This one?" The smile was still on his face.

Ricky stared. "How....?"

"You wanna come and get cleaned up in my caravan?"

Ricky thought about this for a moment. "You got any leather and restraints in there?"

"Oh yeah..."

Ricky swallowed. "Lead the way,' he said.