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Thank you for continuing this amazing story

I don't know if you had the opportunity to meet Peto Coast as your post is from 2019. I can tell you from personal experience that your money would be better spent on another porn star because Coast was a DICK and not worth a nickel. I had the misfortune of being with a friend who hired him while he was in town and he was rude, crude and my friend paid $300 for probably 55 minutes of aggravation and 5 minutes of sex. He had no concern for the needs of his clients, he only was concerned about getting to his next "appointment" and getting his dick in a hole and then be out the door. No he didn't cum, neither did my friend. I would look elsewhere, unless of course you have already met him.

"Mmmm, ohh... what... what happened?" I mumble groggily, my words slurred with sleep and the lingering taste of last night's debauchery. The sound of shuffling feet and the faint rustle of fabric fills the room, and I feel a soft, warm hand trace the outline of my bare shoulder, sending a shiver down my spine. "Good morning, my little sissy," a voice purrs in my ear, the sweetness of Manuela's Brazilian accent sending a jolt of excitement straight to my groin. "How was your night?" Her question hangs in the air, teasing me with the memories of the unseen faces and the feeling of countless hands exploring my body. I squirm slightly, the uncomfortable pressure around my crotch a stark reminder of my new reality. The smell of her perfume fills my nostrils as she leans in closer, and I can almost feel her breath on my cheek. "Did you enjoy your makeover?" Her hand slides down my side, lingering on the silky fabric that hugs my waist before she gently taps the pink chastity cage that confines my cock. I whimper slightly, the reminder of my powerlessness sending a thrill through me. With a flick of her wrist, the blindfold is removed, and the harsh light of day pierces my eyes. I blink rapidly, trying to adjust to the sudden brightness. The room comes into focus, and I see the puddle of cum that has formed underneath the fuckbench where I lay, a testament to the endless night of use I've endured. The sight of it sends a wave of disgust and arousal through me, a confusing cocktail of emotions that only serves to make me feel more pathetic. The ballgag is pulled from my mouth, and I gasp for air, my jaw aching from being held open for so long. Manuela stands before me, fully dressed in a tight, red dress that accentuates her voluptuous curves, her makeup flawless and hair cascading down her shoulders in dark waves. She looks down at me with a mix of amusement and satisfaction, her eyes gleaming with mischief. "Good, you're awake," she says, her voice like velvet as she unbuckles the straps around my ankles and wrists. My limbs are stiff and uncooperative, but she's not having any of it. With surprising strength, she pulls me to my knees, and the chastity cage around my cock digs into my skin. "You had quite the night, didn't you?" Her hand points to the floor, and with a stern look, she orders, "Now, clean up your mess." I hesitate for a moment, the humiliation of my situation crashing down on me, but the fear of her wrath is stronger than my pride. I lean down and tentatively extend my tongue, feeling the sticky residue of cum against the floor. The taste is salty and bitter, a stark reminder of the degradation I've been subjected to. As I lick the floor, my cheeks burn with embarrassment, but I can't help the growing excitement in my belly. The act is so degrading, so completely at her mercy, that it's all I can do to keep from getting hard again, despite the cage's unforgiving grip. She watches me with a smirk, one hand on her hip and the other playing with a lock of my hair, now teased and styled into a sissyish mess. When I've finally cleaned up the last drop of cum, she says, "Good girl," in a tone that is both praising and patronizing. She pulls me to my feet, and I wobble on my high stripper heels, unaccustomed to the feeling of being so exposed and unsteady. The chastity cage cuts into my skin with each movement, a constant reminder of my submission. The leash attached to my collar is tugged, and she leads me through the living room, the plush carpet feeling like a luxurious cloud compared to the cold, hard floor of the basement. We ascend the stairs, my legs trembling with the effort of maintaining my balance in the unfamiliar footwear. The living room is a blur of opulent furniture and flashing colors, a stark contrast to the dimly lit dungeon from which I've just emerged. The journey back to the basement feels like a walk of shame, my face flushing as we pass by the mirror in the entrance hall. I catch a glimpse of my reflection: a slutty, chastised sissy with smudged makeup and a leash around my neck. The sight of myself sends a jolt of electricity straight to my caged cock, and I bite my lip to stifle a moan. We arrive back in the dimly lit basement, and she guides me to a velvet chair. "Sit," she commands, and I do as told, the leather of the chair cool against my bare skin. She circles me, her heels clicking against the floor as she assesses her handiwork. "You're learning," she says with a smile, her eyes sparkling with pride. "But there's still so much more to experience." Manuela holds out a small glass of water and a handful of pills, the blue and pink capsules glinting in the light. "These are for you," she says, her voice firm but gentle. "They're female hormones. You'll take them every day from now on." The reality of her words sinks in, and my stomach lurches. I'm about to become even more of a sissy, my body chemistry altered to match my new role. I feel a flicker of fear, but the thrill of submission is stronger. I open my mouth to protest, but she anticipates me. "You're mine now," she says, her voice dropping to a low, seductive purr. "You belong to me, and you'll do as I say." Before I can form the words, she steps closer and shoves the pills into my mouth, her fingers pressing down on my tongue to ensure I take them. She then holds the glass of water to my lips, and I drink greedily, the liquid washing down the bitter taste of the pills. As I swallow, she says, "Good boy," but I know better than to get too comfortable with that term of endearment. With a swift kick to my caged balls, she reminds me of my place. I double over, gasping for air, tears welling in my eyes. The pain is sharp and immediate, but it's quickly overshadowed by the warmth that spreads through my body as the hormones begin to take effect. Manuela watches me with a smirk, enjoying my discomfort. "You're going to be so beautiful," she murmurs, stroking my cheek with the back of her hand. "And so obedient." She turns and walks away, the clicking of her heels echoing in the room. I'm left sitting there, contemplating the new chapter of my life as her property. The fear and excitement battle within me, but ultimately, I know I have no choice but to submit to her every whim. The first order of business, she says, is to maintain my new, hairless appearance. She leads me to a waxing station she's set up, complete with strips of wax and a pot of hot, bubbling liquid. My heart races as she dips a wooden spatula into the pot, the scent of honey and vanilla wafting through the air. "You're going to be smooth as a baby's bottom," she says with a laugh, spreading the wax over my chest and stomach. The anticipation is almost unbearable, and I flinch as she applies the strip of fabric and rips it off in one swift motion. The pain is intense, but it's a reminder that I'm hers to shape and mold. Next, she instructs me on the importance of anal hygiene. "Cleanliness is key," she says, holding up a bottle of enema solution. "You'll need to clean yourself out every day, so I can use you whenever I wish without any mess." The thought of being so thoroughly invaded makes me quiver with both fear and arousal. She sees my apprehension and slaps my ass lightly. "Don't worry, it'll get easier." As she administers the enema, the cold liquid fills me up, stretching my insides in a way that is both uncomfortable and strangely satisfying. I clench my cheeks, trying to resist the urge to expel it immediately, but she's insistent, pushing it further until I can't hold it any longer. I squirt the water into the toilet with a sense of relief, feeling cleaner and more vulnerable than ever before. The final part of my transformation involves my new wardrobe. She opens a drawer filled with lacy thongs, silky panties, and matching sets of lingerie. "You'll wear these from now on," she says, holding up a pair of pink lace panties. "And always, always with this." She taps the chastity cage with her nails, and I nod, knowing that my manhood is now a mere decoration for her amusement. The chastity cage is a constant presence, a symbol of my submission that I'll be wearing 24/7. It's a stark contrast to the baggy clothes and underwear I've always worn, but now, in this new reality, it's all that separates me from being fully exposed. Manuela's instruction on hairlessness and cleanliness resonate in my mind, becoming part of my daily routine, a reminder of my sissy servitude with every painful rip of wax and the cold, invasive sensation of the enema. After the waxing and enema, she guides me to a luxurious shower with a rain showerhead and walls made of glossy white tiles. The water cascades over my body, washing away the remnants of last night's humiliation and the sweat of my fear. I scrub at my skin with the fragrant soap she's provided, feeling the last vestiges of my masculinity slipping away with each stroke. When I emerge, she's there with a fluffy towel, wrapping me up and leading me back to the chair in front of the vanity. "Now, let's make you pretty," she says, her voice a mix of dominance and affection that sends a thrill down my spine. She opens a drawer filled with an array of makeup, and for the next hour, she teaches me how to apply it. Foundation, blush, mascara, eyeliner—each step is meticulously executed under her firm guidance. She's a strict teacher, correcting my every misstep with gentle but firm strokes, her touch both soothing and electrifying. The lingerie she's laid out for me is even more revealing than what I've worn before. The stockings are sheer, hugging my legs like a second skin, and the thong leaves nothing to the imagination, the fabric cutting into my freshly shaved crack. The corset is a work of art, cinching my waist and making it hard to breathe. The skirt is so short it barely covers my ass, and the top is so small it might as well be a bra. The blond wig she places on my head is the finishing touch, transforming me into someone I hardly recognize. As I stumble into the high heels, I realize just how much my body has changed, not just physically but mentally as well. Each step is a battle against gravity and balance, a constant reminder that I'm in her world now, playing by her rules. The reflection in the mirror shows a sissy slut, dressed to please and ready to serve. The fear of what's to come is palpable, but it's also thrilling in a way that I never knew was possible. I'm no longer the man I once was, but a new creation, a plaything for Manuela to do with as she pleases. With a snap of her fingers, she brings me back to reality. "On your knees," she commands, and I drop without hesitation. She stands before me, her skirt hiked up to reveal her rock-hard cock, already standing at attention. The sight of it sends a jolt through me, and I can't help but feel a mix of fear and awe. This is what she expects of me, what she's turned me into. The pink leather collar is fastened around my neck, and she tugs the leash attached to it, bringing my face closer to her crotch. "Open wide," she says, and I do, eager to prove my worth. Her cock slides into my mouth, the taste of her arousal coating my tongue. She's so much larger than me, and the power dynamic is clear as she uses my mouth with purpose, her grip on the leash tightening with every thrust. My own cock strains against the chastity cage, desperate for release but denied. I suck and lick with all the skill she's taught me, trying to satisfy her. Her hips rock back and forth, and she moans softly, her breathy sighs filling the air. I can feel the heat of her body against my face, the scent of her sex driving me wild. The only sounds in the room are her soft groans and the slap of her thighs against my cheeks. My eyes water and my jaw aches, but I don't dare stop. The pleasure I feel is no longer just about my own orgasm; it's about serving her, about making her feel good. And as she tenses up and cums in my mouth, I swallow it all down, feeling a sense of pride in making my Mistress happy. She pulls out, and I'm left gasping for air, my knees trembling. "Good sissy," she says, patting my head. Her hand is firm but gentle, a stark contrast to the leather collar around my neck that she uses to force me up from the floor. I stumble to my feet, still wobbly from the high heels. She smiles down at me, and the sight of her fully dressed and in charge sends a thrill through my body, even as the reality of my situation sinks in deeper. "Come along," she says, tugging the leash. "We have a busy day ahead of us." I follow her upstairs, my legs shaking with each step. The chastity cage around my cock feels even tighter, a constant reminder of my new role in her world. We enter a brightly lit room with a round table set for two, the smell of fresh bread and sizzling meat filling the air. She points to a chair and says, "Sit. Eat." The food is rich and flavorful, a stark contrast to the blandness of the cage that confines my most sensitive part. Each bite feels like a small victory, a moment of pleasure allowed in a sea of pain and submission. I eat greedily, knowing that I need to keep my strength up for whatever she has planned for me next. As I swallow the last bite of my meal, she leans in close, her breath hot on my ear. "After lunch, we're going to a tattoo parlor," she whispers, sending a shiver down my spine. "You're going to get some pretty ink, my little slut." The words hit me like a punch to the gut, and I feel a mix of excitement and dread. The permanence of tattoos and piercings is not lost on me, but I know better than to argue with her. This is all part of the transformation she has planned, turning me into her ideal sissy pet. "You're going to get a tramp stamp," she says with a wicked smile, her hand tracing the small of my back. "And some piercing for yournive sissy body." The thought of being marked so clearly, so permanently, makes my heart race. But the anticipation is also intoxicating. I'm going to be her living, breathing canvas, a walking testament to her dominance. After the lunch she leads me towards the garage and her car. As we reach the car, she opens the door and gives me a stern look. "Bend over, sissy," she says, the leather of her gloves creaking as she pulls something from her bag. I comply, my knees buckling slightly as the cold metal of the buttplug presses against my already tender hole. She lubes it up and eases it in, the sensation both foreign and exhilarating. It fills me up, stretching my ass, and I can't help but moan into the leather seats as she pushes it deeper and deeper. The plug is thick, with a flared base that makes it impossible to ignore. I feel the coolness of the metal against my cheeks as she pats me gently. "Good girl," she coos. "You're going to be so pretty." With a wink, she helps me into the car, the leather of the seat sticking to my bare legs as I settle in. The plug shifts with every movement, sending waves of discomfort and arousal through me. She slams the door shut and struts around to the driver's side, her hips swaying as she slides in behind the wheel. The engine roars to life, and we pull out of the driveway, leaving the quiet suburban street behind us. The drive to the tattoo parlor is a blur, the vibrations of the car sending the plug even deeper into me. It's a constant reminder that she's in control, that my body is no longer my own. When we arrive, she unbuckles my seatbelt and yanks on the leash, making me stumble out of the car. The cool air outside is a shock to my system, but the plug keeps me grounded, a painful reminder of my new reality. We enter the tattoo parlor, and the smell of ink and the buzz of needles fills my nostrils. A gruff-looking man with tattoos covering his arms and neck looks up from his work, eyeing me curiously. Manuela and he exchange a few words in Portuguese, their laughter bouncing off the walls. I can't understand what they're saying, but the glances they keep throwing my way make me feel like a piece of meat at a butcher shop. The man motions for me to come closer, his gaze lingering on my caged cock. My face is flushed with embarrassment, but I know better than to disobey. He's got a wild look in his eye, one that makes me feel like he knows all the dirty secrets that Manuela has shared with him. Without a word, he grabs my hand and leads me to a chair, gesturing for me to sit. The first piercing is my belly button. He clamps it shut, and the cold steel presses into my skin. I hold my breath as the needle slides through, the pain sharp and immediate. I feel the ring being inserted and then the pressure releases. I let out a sigh, my eyes watering. Manuela claps her hands together, her laughter musical as she watches my discomfort. The gruff man moves on to my nipples next, and the pain is almost too much to bear. The needle pierces through the sensitive flesh, and he tugs on the ring, ensuring it's in place before moving to the next. By the time he's done, my chest is a symphony of pain, but I know it's only the beginning. He winks at me and says something in Portuguese to Manuela that makes her laugh even harder. My mind races, trying to understand what's happening. He reaches for my skirt, and with a swift tug, it's down around my waist, exposing the pink, plump flesh of my ass. The plug inside me feels even more intrusive as the cool air hits my skin. He looks at it with an appraising gaze before focusing on my lower back. "Tramp stamp," Manuela says with a smile, her eyes glinting with excitement. She selects a design from a book of flash art, a simple but elegant script that reads "Slut" My heart skips a beat as I realize the permanence of what's happening to me. The needle buzzes to life, and I feel the sting of the ink as it etches the words into my skin. I grit my teeth, the pain a stark contrast to the throbbing ache in my cock, denied release by the chastity cage. The tattoo artist works quickly and efficiently, his gloved hands moving with the precision of a surgeon. The design unfurls on my skin, the letters stark black against the pale canvas of my flesh. It's a declaration of my new identity, a brand that marks me as Manuela's property. The pain is intense, but it's also oddly comforting, a reminder that I belong to someone so powerful, so in control. When the artist is done, he wipes away the excess ink with a damp cloth, and Manuela takes the leash from his hand. "Good job, sissy," she says, her voice a purr. "Now, let's go to the backroom to settle your bill." My heart races as she leads me through a curtain into a dimly lit space, the walls adorned with various pieces of BDSM equipment. The tattoo artist follows close behind, his eyes hungry as they devour my trembling form. I know what's coming, and the thought of serving him sends a thrill of fear and excitement through me. Once inside, he secures my leash to a metal ring on the wall, forcing me to stand still as he strips off his shirt, revealing a chiseled torso covered in ink. He grabs a flogger from a nearby rack, the leather strands slapping against his palm as he approaches me, his eyes glinting with anticipation. "You're going to pay for your ink with your body, slut," he says, his voice gruff and accented. Manuela watches us, her eyes sparkling with amusement as she takes a seat on a nearby chair. She crosses her legs, and the leather squeaks under her as she watches the scene unfold. "Good girl," she murmurs, her voice a gentle caress that sends a shiver down my spine. "Do as he says." The artist moves closer, the scent of his musky cologne overwhelming me. He runs the flogger along my body, tracing the curves of my hips and the outline of my breasts. The anticipation is agonizing, my body begging for relief from the chastity cage and the pressure of the butt plug. He seems to sense my need and grins, a wicked glint in his eye. With a swift motion, the first lash of the flogger meets my skin, and I yelp in surprise. The pain is sharp and stinging, but it quickly morphs into a warm, pulsating sensation that sends waves of arousal through my body. He works methodically, alternating between light, teasing strikes and heavier, more punishing blows that leave my ass cheeks red and tender. Each lash feels like a brand, searing my new identity into my flesh. As I stand there, bound and exposed, my mind reels with the reality of the situation. This is what it means to be Manuela's sissy slut—to be used, marked, and displayed for the pleasure of others. The humiliation is intense, but the thrill of submission is even stronger. My cock strains against the cage, desperate for release, and the plug in my ass seems to swell with every breath I take. Finally, after what feels like an eternity, he sets the flogger aside and gestures to the fuck bench in the center of the room. Manuela's smile widens as she watches me being led to the padded leather contraption. She nods her approval, and the artist secures my wrists and ankles to the bench, spreading me wide open. The cool leather feels almost comforting against my burning skin, and I can't help but arch my back, presenting my ass to him. He doesn't waste any time. He grabs my hair and yanks my head back, his cock already hard and throbbing before my eyes. He lines it up with my mouth, and with a grunt, he slams into my throat. The gag reflex is almost instant, but I've learned my lessons from last night. I force myself to relax, to take him deeper and deeper, until my nose is buried in his pubic hair. He starts to fuck my mouth with a fervor that borders on brutal, and I feel the warmth of his pre-cum coating my throat. My eyes water and my throat burns, but the look of pleasure on his face is all the reward I need. His grip on my hair tightens, and he starts to set a rhythm, his hips pistoning as he uses my mouth for his own pleasure. The sound of his skin slapping against my face fills the room, punctuated by the occasional grunt or curse in Portuguese. Manuela sits back, watching us with a critical eye. She nods in approval as I take his entire length without choking. The feeling of being used, of being nothing more than a receptacle for his lust, is overwhelming, and I feel myself getting wetter with each thrust. "Good sissy," he grunts, praising me as he pulls out of my mouth. He wipes his cock off on my cheek before moving around to my ass. His hand reaches down, gripping the base of the plug and giving it a cruel twist. The pain makes me gasp, but I don't dare protest. With a sadistic smile, he yanks the plug out, the cold air hitting my exposed hole with a sharpness that makes me shiver. Without preamble, he lines his cock up and pushes inside me, the lack of lube making the entry burn. I whine in pain, but it's quickly drowned out by the sound of his flesh slapping against my ass. Each stroke is punctuated with a slap to my cheeks, the sting adding to the intensity of the sensations. My body tries to adjust to his size, the chastity cage a constant reminder of my place. He fucks me hard, his hand reaching under me to tease my clit. The combination of pain and pleasure is too much to handle, and I feel my orgasm building despite the cage. The room is filled with the smack of skin on skin and the low, guttural sounds of his pleasure. His grip on my hips tightens, his nails digging into my flesh as he pummels my ass without mercy. The pressure inside me is unbearable, and I know I'm close, so close to the edge. I start to moan louder, my body begging for release even as the cage holds me back. He seems to sense it, his thrusts becoming more erratic as he chases his own climax. My eyes roll back in my head, my moans turning into screams that are muffled by the gag. And then, with a final, brutal push, he cums, his cock pulsing inside me. His warm seed fills my ass, and I can feel it leaking out around the base of the chastity cage. The feeling of him releasing inside me sends me over the edge, but my own orgasm is denied. The cage is a cruel barrier, trapping my desperate erection and leaving me trembling and unsatisfied. He pulls out, his cock slick with our combined juices. He nods to Manuela, and she approaches, her heels clicking against the tiles. She pats his chest, and he grins, clearly pleased with himself. "Bill paid," he says, his English choppy but clear enough for me to understand. With trembling limbs, I'm released from the bench, my body feeling both used and alive with sensation. Manuela takes my chin in her hand and tilts my face up to hers. "Good slut," she whispers, her breath warm and sweet. "Now, let's go home and get you ready for tonight." The plug is reinserted into my ass with a cold, practiced ease, the metal a stark reminder of my submission. She helps me stand, the leather of the high heels biting into my tender feet as I wobble. My skirt is pulled back up, the fabric brushing against my bruised flesh as I'm forced to confront the reality of what's been done to me. In front of the full-length mirror, I see the image of a true sissy slut: pierced, tattooed, and caged. The pain of the plug is a constant throb that mirrors the desperation in my eyes. The skirt barely covers my ass, leaving my new ink and piercings on full display. The sight is both terrifying and exhilarating. I am what she's made of me, a living, breathing doll for her amusement. Manuela clips the leash onto my collar and gives it a gentle tug. "Let's go, slut," she says, the smile never leaving her lips. We make our way back through the tattoo parlor, my cheeks burning with shame as the artist and his client watch me pass by, both of them smirking knowingly. The leather of the leash feels like a part of me now, a physical extension of her control over my very existence. Outside, the sun is high in the sky, and the world seems to swirl around us as we walk to the car. The leather of the collar is sticky with my sweat, and the plug inside me shifts with every step. The sound of her high heels echoing on the sidewalk is the only thing keeping me grounded as we head towards the car. Once inside, she starts the engine, and the purr of the motor sends a fresh wave of arousal through me. The leather seats stick to my bare legs, the heat from the sun making the metal of the plug even more intense. She pulls out of the parking lot and onto the street, her eyes never leaving mine in the rearview mirror. "Tonight, my pet," she says, her voice a low, seductive purr, "my friends will visit again. They're eager to play with their new toy." My stomach drops at the thought of another night of being used and abused by her and her guests. But the excitement in her voice is intoxicating. I know I'm going to be the center of attention, the entertainment for their twisted desires. And as much as I dread it, I also crave it. "You're going to be so popular," she continues, her smile widening. "They're going to love every inch of you." The drive home is a blur, my mind racing with thoughts of the night ahead. The anticipation is a mix of fear and excitement, a heady cocktail that makes it impossible to think of anything else.

Sounds like you had. Great first time

Love Latino guys, although I'm a total sucker for a thick Russian accent, total Borris fetish here.

I can definitely say no. I was stealthed by an ex or a playmate about almost a year ago. To add injury to insult, I had been in 3 different rehab facilities who all tested negative and one practitioner said "PreP is only for those who have already contracted hiv". As far as meds and health issues, I haven't had any trouble with dovata, no side effects. All in all nothing has really changed in my life except, hookups and fwbs are all non-existent on dating app and you can only meet people to slut up with in person at a club, bar, spa, or gym ect. Pennsylvania sucks for pozzed horn balls like me, getting cum every two days, To not even being able to find 1 top . Honestly that's kinda more depressing than actually dealing with the disease.

Super hot story!! 🔥

Other than a hand full of times, I have primarily been a BBC Slut, always have prefere black men. But I also grew up around primarily black men so its what ive always known

Add to that the video cabin cruise clubs, like Connection Shop in Fuggerstrasse - can be interesting early evening as there's an 'after work' crowd when guys go home. I've not done Jaxx - although I have tried - they said I was too old (42 at the time). Bull is always good on any day of the week (as it is open 24/7) and best after midnight. Ajpnia do a Wednesday evening - and if you're kink/fetish oriented then Bose Buben have events most days of the week with different themes. Would avoid cruising in the parks - there has been a lot of trouble lately and I can speak from personal experience of being attacked/beaten by three guys in Tiergarten on a Tuesday night. My go-to for planning is Siegessaeule Magazine - they have an English page with events that goes quite far into the future: [think before following links] https://www.siegessaeule.de/en/events/

@BBSSkin

I visited my 1st sex club on my 18th Birthday, it took 2 minutes before I had cock in my mouth, 5 minutes for me to get out of my wheelchair and getting fucked. I was there 10 hours and always had cocks in my mouth or Ass

Hello beautiful, A lot happened today, and it’s not that I don’t want to tell you all about it. It’s just that sometimes, I want the moment to settle into my bones for a little while—to let the experience wash over me, to ponder it quietly before sharing it, even with you. One day, I’ll tell you everything. And maybe by then, it’ll be better—because I’ll have processed it more fully and gained a clearer perspective. Remember Johnny? One of our friends who’s in an open relationship with Wen? He’s coming over early in the morning for a quick sleepover before we spend the entire day playing the newly released Donkey Kong game on the Switch 2. It’s going to be a full-on day, I reckon. We’ll probably take some breaks so I can squeeze in a bit of singing and piano practice. I might even get him to snap a few photos of me at the piano to update my Hinge profile! That’s pretty much it for tonight, buddy. Short and sweet—like strawberry cheesecake. Chat soon xx

By the end of 8th Grade id lost count

I better be able to still go. If not I have the weekend off I want to be used and filled badly. I know I still want your poz cock.

@Teddybb let me know when you get back to Wisconsin.

My 1st time was incredible, but confusing. i was "straight", so why am i letting this guy fuck my ass?! We was (and still is) a great friend. i had him over for dinner, hoping that it would lead to my 1st time...and it did! He had me bent over the back of my couch. He ran two ropes under the couch and tied my wrists to my ankles. Then he slowly started to push his modest sized, 7 inch cock into and up my asscunt until i could feel his pubes tickling my taint. He left it there for a couple minutes, making just little movements until i was used to the feeling. Then he started to slowly slide out, then SLAM his cock balls deep, over-and-over, harder and harder. Next thing i knew, he was standing on the back of the couch, grasping my shoulders for balance, as he was pulverizing my cunt hole. Then he slowed up, became still and announced that he was "filling me up". i never felt the cum, but i did feel his cock throbbing. It wasn't until he pulled out and some of his cum slid out with his cock and ran down over my balls, that i really knew that he had cum inside me. It made me so FUCKING horny!!! We talked for a bit, with me still tied over the couch, and decided that i should try a sex club that night...i felt that pulsating and cum leaking feeling 16 more times that night...with him being the first and last fuck of the night...

Same here. I never felt the semen being ejaculated inside me but definitely have felt it with those unexpected cum farts. The man's swimmers being aborted from my ass is usually the most tangible sign of being bred.

Damn man, leave us hanging 😈🦯🐷. I was hard and jacking LOL hopefully the next part of this story is cumming soon thanks @pdxpointperv

@Njn0mc

July 18th and 19th...Does anyone hook up from this site?

I had to tag along with my brother and his friends cuz my dad made him bring me. So my brother ended up ditching me but his to friends said I could hang with them. All I remember was being in their car and given stuff to drink. Suddenly came to and my brothers best friend was fucking my virgin hole and his much other brother was fucking my throat. One of them said, hes awake. But I smiled and they both grinned and called me a cumslut. And the guy fn me got so aroused that me went so deep it went thru that second hole but literally felt him shooting so much cum inside me then the brother started shooting down my throat I swear it came out my nose lol. Lets just say I was there lil secret cum dump for the next 6 years.