The Grooming – Felix Kamp, Clayton Foster
Master Kamp’s latest acquisition was a rare prize indeed. Clayton was a tall, statuesque hunk of blond meat that was shaped by the rigors of high school football and weight training. In his past life, he was the golden boy of his town. Quarterback, prom king, envy of all men and boys.
The untrained eye would look at Clayton and assume this boy would become the top of the world. But there wasn’t a “top” bone in Clayton’s body. And only the analytical eyes of an expert like Master Kamp could see this truth.
Master Kamp ran his hands down Clayton’s broad back as the boy let out a slow sigh through his teeth. He loved the way Clayton’s muscles moved. They were big, full of power, but subservient. Clayton yielded to the Master’s large, inquisitive hands like butter to a knife.
Master Kamp lifted the boy’s gray sweater and revealed two large, heavy pectorals that heaved with his desperate breathing. “What a high quality meat”, Kamp thought with a smile. He pinched and kneaded the boy’s soft nipples, pulling them until they were hard and taut. He continued to undress the boy until he was completely exposed and vulnerable.
Kamp felt Clayton shudder. He could tell the big young man was just as eager to be used. He grabbed the boy’s head tightly and pushed him onto a plinth in the center of the darkened room, directly below the looming source of light present. It casts long shadows over their bodies.
The boy assumed an obedient form on all fours – Kamp was pleased to see how effortlessly Clayton got into the correct position.
He slapped the jock on the ass. Clayton’s meow was somewhere between ecstasy and surprise. Kamp knew that was the real Clayton voice and he wondered how long the football star had waited for a real man like the grizzled Master Kamp to coax that sound out of him.
Kamp rubbed oil into the boy’s muscles. I noticed that Clayton’s strong, smooth legs were so well toned, fleshy and powerful and ready to absorb anything thrown at them.
Master Kamp let his hands glide over the boy’s firm buttocks. He measured its circumference with rough grips, then pushed his thumb toward Clayton’s hole. He circled it slowly and then began to probe. The boy grabbed the fabric from the pedestal and accepted the Master’s fingering.
Kamp, his stoic face breaking into a satisfied smile behind his beard, stuck another smooth finger. He gently pressed against the ring of muscle. He felt the tightness around his knuckle and the heat from beyond.
“Good boy,” Kamp muttered before giving Clayton a reassuring slap on the fleshy ass.
With evidence that the boy’s quivering hole knew how to behave, Master Kamp rolled up his sleeves and produced a clear glass wand.
He pushed the tapered tip slowly into Clayton’s ass, whose voice broke on a cry of pleasure. His body did not resist, but opened itself to the whims of its new Master. His knees slid and he spread his legs even wider to catch as much object as Master Kamp was interested in inserting into him.
Kamp, with a low chuckle, was more than happy to give Clayton what his whole body craved. The Master pulled him in and out a few times before slapping the boy’s ass hard enough to set him on fire. He gave the toy one last thrust before pulling it off the young man’s ass and coating it with another layer of oil.
