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Chapter 10: The Sanctum The red light of the Bacchanalia faded in Nate’s rearview mirror, replaced by the sterile white glow of Preston Hollow streetlamps. The mansion, with its symphony of flesh and its roaring chemical-fueled energy, felt like a dream from another life—or perhaps, a life they had just conquered. Now, as the Porsche glided silently into the driveway, the mission was over. The work was done. It was time to go home. Home. The word had a new weight, a new texture. It was no longer just a glass-walled house filled with expensive furniture and the ghost of a dead wife. It was a sanctum. A fortress for the four of them. They moved through the house with a quiet, exhausted intimacy. The energy from the mansion still clung to them—a musky, electric aura—but it was softening, settling into the familiar comfort of their shared space. Kyle Simmons, no longer "Coach" but simply "Kyle," moved with the easy confidence of a man who belonged. He dropped his bag by the door, his large frame seeming to fill the entryway with a grounded strength. No words were needed. They all knew the ritual. It was a purification of a different kind. One by one, they shed the clothes from the outside world and walked into the massive, open-air shower that adjoined the master suite. The water, hot and steamy, cascaded over their bodies, washing away the sweat, the lube, the piss, and the seed of the night. They didn't speak. They touched. Brandon soaped Nate’s back, his hands gentle, reverent. Geoff stood under the spray with Kyle, their foreheads pressed together, sharing a quiet moment of connection that went beyond the raw lust of the public arena. This was cleansing. This was returning to the self. Later, wrapped in thick, luxurious robes, they gathered in the living room. The floor-to-ceiling windows looked out over the dark, sleeping city, but their world was contained within the warm, lamplit circle of the room. Brandon, ever the provider, built a fire in the grand hearth. Kyle produced a bottle of aged tequila and four glasses. Geoff put on a low, ambient record. This was their new normal. The Bacchanalia was the church, the sermon, the conversion. This was the fellowship, the quiet worship of each other. They sat on the plush rugs before the fire, a tangle of limbs and comfortable silence. The conversation started softly, a debriefing of the night's events. "Did you see the look on Thorne's face when he drank the chalice?" Geoff chuckled, a deep, proud sound. "He looked like he was dying and being born all at once." "He was," Kyle said, swirling the tequila in his glass. "You broke him perfectly, son. That's a gift." He looked at Nate, his eyes filled with a warmth that transcended their decades of friendship. "And you. You were a predator tonight. A king." Nate leaned his head against Brandon’s shoulder, a gesture of pure, unguarded affection. "I learned from the best." He looked at his twin, his son, his friend. "But that's out there. This..." He gestured to the space between them. "...this is what's real." The air grew thick again, but this time it wasn't the chemically charged haze of the spa. It was the slow, deliberate burn of intimacy, of love, of profound, undeniable need. Brandon set his glass down and moved behind Nate, his hands gently untying the belt of his robe. "Our king needs to be serviced," he murmured, his lips brushing Nate’s ear. Nate leaned back, a soft sigh escaping him as Brandon’s hands roamed over his chest. Kyle turned to Geoff, his expression softening. "And my champion? What does he need?" Geoff didn't answer with words. He simply knelt before Kyle, undoing his mentor's robe and taking his already hardening cock into his mouth. It wasn't an act of submission, but of worship. A son honoring the man who had helped guide him, who had completed his father's initiation. The scene that unfolded was the antithesis of the Bacchanalia. It was slow, tender, and exquisitely explicit. Brandon laid Nate down on the thick fur rug before the fire. He entered his twin slowly, face to face, their bodies moving together in a rhythm as old as their shared heartbeat. There was no talk of breeding or gifting, only whispered endearments and the soft sounds of pleasure. It was a reaffirmation of their bond, a love that had survived and been reborn. Beside them, Kyle laid Geoff on his back, lifting his legs. He entered his former student with the same powerful control he’d used in the sling room, but tempered with a deep, abiding affection. "You've become a man, Geoff," Kyle grunted softly, his hips rolling in a deep, steady rhythm. "A man I'm proud to call brother." They moved as two interconnected pairs, a beautiful, incestuous tableau of love and lust. The firelight danced on their sweat-slicked skin, illuminating the tattoos that marked them as members of the same tribe. The sounds were not of grunts and slaps, but of soft moans, whispered names, and the gentle rhythm of four bodies finding their home in each other. One by one, they reached their peaks, not with explosive roars, but with quiet, shuddering climaxes that felt like a release of the soul. Brandon flooded his twin's ass, and Nate’s own cum spurted between their bodies. Kyle emptied himself into Geoff, who cried out his mentor's name as he came. They lay in a heap, a tangled, satisfied mess of limbs and love. The fire crackled, the city slept, and outside, the revolution they had just ignited continued to spread. But in here, in their sanctum, they were just a family. A father, his brother, his son, and his best friend. Four men, bound by blood, by ink, by seed, and by a love so profound it had poisoned them to perfection. And they were home.

Chapter 9: The Bacchanalia The ride from Nate’s office was a non-linear journey through a neon-slicked nightmare. Marcus was no longer the pilot of his own body; he was a passenger strapped into a vessel hurtling toward an unknown, terrifying destination. The city lights blurred into streaking watercolors, and the low, authoritative thrum of Nate’s voice was the only thing anchoring him to a reality that was rapidly dissolving. They didn't go to the Midtowne Spa. This was something else entirely. The Porsche pulled up to a sprawling, modernist mansion in the exclusive enclave of Turtle Creek, its glass walls glowing with an eerie, pulsing red light, like a heart beating in the night. Inside, the air was a physical entity, a thick, humid soup of incense, sweat, amyl poppers, and the raw, musky smell of aroused, chem-fueled men. This was no clandestine gathering in a back room; this was a full-blown Bacchanalia, a cathedral of flesh dedicated to the glorious poison of their truth. The main room was a panorama of unbridled lust. To Marcus's left, a man with intricate tribal tattoos covering his entire back was strapped to a St. Andrew's cross. A masked dom, his own cock a thick, heavy club, systematically worked a series of increasingly large sounding rods down the man's urethra, while a third man knelt at his feet, not just drinking, but bathing his face in the stream of piss that erupted from the bound man's cock. His moans were a mixture of agony and ecstatic surrender. Near the grand fireplace, a geyser of golden shower was in full effect. A muscular, silver-haired man stood over a younger, leaner partner who was on his knees, mouth open, receiving the warm, chem-laced piss directly onto his tongue and down his chest. The younger man was stroking himself furiously, his body glistening, lost in the act of total degradation and worship. In a corner, a group was gathered around a black gyno table, their faces illuminated by the glow of their glass pipes as they blew clouds into the air, the smoke mingling with the scent of Crisco and lube. The man on the table, his legs held back by two others, was being fisted. The top, his arm buried to the forearm in the man's hole, worked it slowly, methodically, twisting his fist. "Open up for me, you beautiful pig," he grunted. "Take my fucking arm. I want to feel your heartbeat from the inside." The man on the table could only respond with guttural, animalistic grunts, his cock leaking a steady stream of clear fluid onto his own stomach. Everywhere Marcus looked, there were rituals of conversion. A man in a leather sling was being slam-fucked by a top who had just administered a powerful hit to the bottom's jugular, the rush hitting him instantly as the top's cock pounded away. Another pair was in a 69, shotgunning thick clouds of meth smoke back and forth between them, their bodies writhing, their connection a feedback loop of chemicals and lust. This was the brotherhood in its full, unadulterated glory. A tribe of beautifully damned souls, all celebrating the gift, all passing their strains in a glorious, orgiastic communion. Brandon and Geoff moved through the throng like sharks, their presence commanding immediate respect. Geoff, his body already gleaming with a sheen of sweat, approached Marcus and Nate. He gave his father a deep, possessive kiss, tasting the chemicals on his breath, then turned his burning eyes to the new initiate. "Welcome to the family," he growled. "Time for your conversion." He led a dazed, pliant Marcus to the center of the room, to a single, black leather sling hanging under a stark, focused spotlight. It was an altar. The room's activity didn't stop; it simply shifted its focus. All eyes, all energy, turned to the new offering. Marcus, stripped of his suit and his dignity, was guided into the sling. His legs were placed in the stirrups, his hole exposed and twitching, a desperate, empty void that suddenly ached with a need so profound it was terrifying. Nate stood by his head, stroking his hair, his voice a calming anchor in the storm. "Just let go, Marcus," he whispered. "Stop fighting. Receive the gift." But Marcus couldn't hold it in. The sight, the sounds, the chemicals roaring through his system—it was too much. His hole, his very being, was crying out. "Please," he whimpered, the word torn from his throat. "Oh god, please... fill me. I need it. I need it so bad." A collective, appreciative murmur went through the crowd. The initiate was ready. Brandon appeared with a ornate, silver chalice filled with a steaming, golden liquid. "The first communion," he announced, his voice resonating through the room. "Drink. It's from the brothers. It will prepare you for the breeding." Marcus, lost in a haze of complete submission, drank deeply. The liquid was hot, salty, and bitter, the unmistakable taste of chem-piss from dozens of men. It was a potent offering of their collective essence, a final act of defilement that felt strangely like purification. It burned down his throat and settled in his gut, a fire that demanded to be quenched. Now the true ritual began. Geoff was the first to claim him. He stood between Marcus's spread legs, his own poz cock thick, hard, and dripping. "This is the Brand's welcome," he snarled, spitting a thick wad onto Marcus's hungry hole. "You're about to get a full introduction." He entered with a single, brutal thrust, making Marcus cry out, a sound of pure, unadulterated relief. As Geoff began to fuck, Brandon knelt, his own hands slick with lube. He began to work his fist into Marcus's hole alongside Geoff's pistoning cock. The double penetration was an overwhelming, white-hot flash of agony and ecstasy that shattered what was left of Marcus's mind into a million glittering pieces. "You're taking it," Nate coached from above, his voice a steady drumbeat in the symphony of lust. "You're taking our gift. You're being bred by the brotherhood." Geoff fucked him hard, his balls slapping against Marcus's ass, until he roared and buried himself deep, pumping a toxic load into Marcus's guts. "First seeding done!" he yelled, pulling out. But the sling wasn't empty for a second. Another man took his place, then another. It was a conga line of conversion. Each man had a different strain, a different story. A massive, muscle-bound bear with a spider tattoo grunted as he added his load. A lean, twink-like figure with a demonic brand followed suit. Marcus was a vessel, a receptacle for the collective seed of the tribe. He was no longer Marcus Thorne, the CEO. He was a hole, a canvas, a thing to be bred and marked. After a dozen men had gifted him, his hole was a gaping, messy masterpiece, dripping with a river of cum. The final participant stepped forward: Nate. He looked down at his rival, now a whimpering, broken, blissed-out thing. His hole was ruined, his body covered in sweat and spit, his mind completely rewritten. This was the ultimate hostile takeover. Nate entered him slowly, his nine-inch cock sliding into the sloppy, well-used depths with ease. "This is it, Marcus," he said, his voice low and final. "This is my strain. The one that started it all in our world. I'm not just breeding you. I'm claiming you. You belong to me now. You belong to the Brand." He began to fuck, not with anger, but with a deep, possessive rhythm. As he thrust, he reached down and grabbed Marcus's cock, which was inexplicably rock hard. He began to jerk him off in time with his strokes. "You're going to cum for me, Marcus," Nate commanded. "You're going to cum while I'm breeding you. You're going to associate this pleasure, this surrender, with your new purpose." The command was absolute. Marcus's body arched, and with a strangled scream, he erupted, shooting a massive load of his own cum across his chest. The sight of his total surrender sent Nate over the edge. He slammed in deep and unleashed his own potent, toxic seed, the final, definitive deposit in the breeding. He stayed plugged in, marking his territory. The room erupted in applause, not of politeness, but of primal approval. Brandon stepped forward, a tattoo gun in his hand this time. The buzzing of the needle cut through the air. "He is one of us," Brandon declared. He began to work on Marcus's lower back, just above his ass, etching the permanent biohazard trefoil into his skin. Marcus didn't even flinch. He just lay there, a tear of pure joy rolling down his cheek as the needle burned his new identity into his flesh. The Bacchanalia had succeeded. The Brand had claimed another soul. And as Nate watched, he knew this was only the beginning. They were a plague, and they were just learning how to spread.

Remind me of that when we eventually get to meet ...

Does anyone know who this hot, hairy daddy is, please?

Well this was a few days ago. I had an appointment in the morning. But I've really wanted to see a hot daddy bear bottom I've been talking to back and forth. So I made arrangements and was able to do both fortunately. The Daddy Bottom Bear I arrived at his complex. I was a little pressed for time but I was surprised when I walked in the door. He was an incredible sexy man big bushy beard and in a robe I think. He kissed me passionately when I entered. I did not expect that. I expected him to want to be ass up wanting a load. We went to the bedroom and I started stripping. My plan was if he was ass up I was just going to fuck him with my jeans on and leave after because I was short on time. But damn..the sexy fucker had to go and kiss me and and be sexy as hell. I started stripping my clothes and he took off most of what he was wearing except for a shirt. He wanted to make out and he was very affectionate. He was touching my body, holding me, caressing me, and I was really kinda happy he wasn't rushed to just fuck I love foreplay when it's a great connection. But fuck I was in a rush. I told him I want him on his belly. He got on my belly and he had a nice hot ass. I spit on my cock and then on his hole. I tried to gently push in but I could not only feel he wanted more but I wanted to give him more. I gave him more of my cock and heard him moan. I started fucking him and damn I really needed this. But I was really enjoying fucking him. I pulled out and spit on my cock which was even harder to try and loosen his hole up a little more. His hole felt so damn good. I asked him if I can take a picture and he said it's fine. I took a picture of me fucking him. I knew this would make Daddy happy. Thinking about Daddy too got me harder. He started to say "Breed me". But I wasn't fully in the mood to breed yet. I wanted to enjoy his ass. I pulled out all the way and slammed my cock in him, I also buried my bone deep in him. I was more then a little sensual. I wanted to actually make love to this man and I think he wanted it too. If I had more time i would have. His ass felt so good I started fucking him harder and faster. I started growling and grunting. I held him tight and shouted as I shot a huge load into him. He groaned and thanked me. He wasn't trying to keep me in either he was just enjoying me being inside him. Fuck. I pulled out and told him I had to get going. I washed my dick and we kissed a little bit more and then I left. I'll definitely see him again. I sent my Daddy the picture afterwards and he was happy. He told me I'm a good boy. Fuck I love how this man is encouraging me to fuck and breed other guys. My appointment went great. Discreet Gray Daddy This happened earlier in the week. It was earlier in the week the evening was kinda of a bust. I was really excited to go out but not much was going on and I wasn't in the right mindset. After nothing was going right with potential fun I decided to call it a night. To my surprise someone messaged me and asked if I'd be available in a little bit. I said yes and they told me to park in a certain area. Oh I remembered this person on another site it never worked out because he couldn't find where I parked. Well this time was different. He found me and took me to his place. He was pretty hot. An older daddy but hot white stache, goatee, beard combo. He had an interesting play area but it was a little cold coming from outside. He was pretty agressive and kissed me, and bite me, and did a little bit of unexpected breath play. I sucked him for a bit and he enjoyed it and was getting hard. He fucked me a few times and damn he his cock was big and felt great in me. Especially considering I didn't really get fucked prior. But fuck I loved him fucking me fast and hard. He kinda stopped a few times when fucking me and slowed down probably trying not to come. I ended up getting agressive and horny and told him to get on all fours. His ass felt fucking good. It wasn't loose but it was relaxed. I enjoyed taking my hard cock all the way out of his hole and pushing it back in. I was a little rougher with him. He was moaning and groaning and he was enjoying it. But the man was rough with me, grabbing me, pinning me down, breathe play, and his agressive fucking. Pup wanted to return the same energy. I fucked him hard and he was loving it moaning and begging me to cum. I didn't feel like cumming yet. I fucked him harder and he pulled off me for a moment. I figured maybe I was too rough but he ended up putting me on my back and fucking me. Damn this man was hot. After he fucked me for a bit I decided I had to have his ass. I put him on his belly and shoved my cock in him. I fucked him with deep and long strokes and then got to my faster fucking. I shouted and breed him. I pulled out after and had to piss. I came back and he was already getting dressed. We both thanked each other and I left after that. It was pretty hot and fun. He was super discreet though so I can't expect I'll see him much again. It has not been a lot of action this week but I enjoyed it. I feel like I'll get to the point where I might want to go on a binge fucking bottoms soon hehe. Or maybe I'll just run into a bottom that's close that I can breed regular. Scheduling can be a bitch. Hope to breed again soon. Until next time...

I love watching. I am a voyeur pervert. I've watched guys jerk off, suck, and fuck. I have watched guys who put up a private show in their place. I have had a btm buddy who hid me in his closet and let me watch him having sex through the gap. I have watched while fully clothed and I have watched while tied to a chair wearing only a pair jockstrap and with a dildo in my ass.

So I was out pretty late Saturday night. But damn it was a fucking amazing Saturday night. I was feeling a little groggy and weary but I did things to help and rested a bit after. I decided to check a site for some reason. And when I did I saw a certain Top I haven't seen in a good two weeks online. Fuck..I knew what was going to happen if I message them but I went ahead and did it anyways. Tag Teaming The Bottom with the Traveling Top So I messaged him and of course he said he wanted to get together but there was a twist. He said a bottom just sent him a message and he asked if I wanted to have the bottom come over too. He said we can both tag team the bottom and he's been wanting to watch me fuck a guy for a while. There is a certain level of disbelief in this considering what I just did the previous night..with a Top as well. But I'm always open to new experiences. I did not care what the bottom looked like. I looked at his profile and I had no issues. I told him I'm down. I arrived at his place first though. This was a different arrival then the past few times. I arrived and the Top wasn't sitting in his chair waiting for me to blow him. He was standing up and already naked though. I stripped my clothes and he went to the bedroom. He lay down on the bed with his cock sticking up but not hard like normally just flaccid. I subverted his expectations. I crawled on the bed and got in between his legs with my mouth open. But then I raised my body closer and moved up on the bed. I kissed him. He kissed back and we made out passionately. I started licking his face after and whimpering a little. He seemed really surprised by this and my cock was rock hard and rubbing against his leg. He kissed me again and we made out some more. I lowered my body and started sucking his nipples which I know he loves. And god damn this man has the furriest chest of any guy I've played with. His nipples are lost in the fur it's so sexy to use my tongue and taste and navigate his fur to find the nipple and suck on it. I sucked on his cock a bit obviously as well. He really enjoyed that. I switched between sucking his nipples but several times he put my head back on his cock. He was intentionally taking me off his cock several times too because I am sure he didn't want to cum. He also fucked me dry with just his spit. This is not something he's done before he always uses lube. I took it though. He really enjoyed fucking me and his thick daddy cock felt great in my hole. He said a few times "That's just a tease..need to save some for our guest soon". He checked his phone several times while I was sucking him and playing to see when the bottom would arrive. The bottom took a little longer then we both anticipated. But eventually the bottom arrived. He was an older man. He seemed a little flustrered when he came in but he stripped down. He got on the bed and sort of layed down. He wasn't doing anything really so I started to intiate. I sucked his cock a little bit and it was getting harder. He was playing with the Top's cock with his hands. He then got up and started sucking his cock. The top was already hard but he got even harder after being sucked. Now it was finally time for the main event and the reason he was there. The top told him to get on all fours. I cannot state how hot it was too watch The Daddy Bear Top to slide his cock in and out of the bottom's hole. I'm not sure if it's because he has more fur on him and his belly if that's why it was hotter. The Tatted Daddy fucking the bottom last night was hot but maybe because the room was darker I couldn't fully see or admire my Daddy completely. I was just admiring the prescence of him fucking the bottom and watching the bottom's reaction. Maybe because I was into the bottom that night as well. But regardless of the reason the Top's sexy furry belly and watching his cock slide in and out of the bottom. Fucking hot. The bottom was being a little interesting by kinda squirming around a bit the top had to re-organizse him a few times. I was stroking my cock and it was rock hard. The top took a bow for a moment and left the bottom's hole leaving an invitation for me. I eagerly accepted the invitation. I pushed my cock into the bottom. The Daddy Bear Top got him loosened up a little. I was of course gentle initially just sliding in and out slowly. But then I started fucking him faster. The bottom was moaning when the Daddy Bear Top was fucking him but also moaning when I was fucking him. I was enjoying fucking him. I could see how happy it was making the Daddy Bear Top. I started to fuck him rougher and he was taking it initially but then he kinda backed up off my cock completely. He was worried there was a water issue. But I checked and no water. The Top said he was fine. The top pushed his cock back in and started fucking him again. We both switched off on fucking him several times afterwards. The Top's dick was rock hard fucking him the entire time and so was mine. When one of my turns came back to fuck him I was getting more antsy and more heated and rougher in my fucking. The top said one word to me "Breed him boy." Fuck I was waiting to hear that. I started fucking him faster and harder. I did not need to get into pup headspace to breed this bottom. Nor did I want to. I started growling though and grunting. I started fucking him faster and harder. The top told me, "Fuck yeah boy. Fucking hot. Breed his boy." I was really building up this fuck slamming my cock into his ass and fucking him harder and deeper. Finally I felt it and shouted "Fucking breeding him". I shot a huge load into him. I grunted and kept fucking him until my load was draining out then I pulled out. The Top then asked me "Boy I'm going to breed. Do you want me to breed him or you?". I did not even hesitate. I stated "It's your choice Daddy." He told me, "He is happy that he has a load in him and got bred. I'm fucking and breeding you boy." Fuck. I did not expect this. I thought he'd breed the bottom. I got on the bed and got on all fours. This top was horny this time he pushed in my hole and I felt a pop. Fuck. I did not fully relax on his cock but also my hole was tighter from cumming and breeding the bottom. He started fucking me faster and pulling his dick in and out of my ass with more agression. He started grunting "Going to fucking breed you boy." He shot a huge load in me. He always has huge loads because he doesn't cum all the time. I moaned and groaned after he bred me. I worked my ass on his dick a little until he drained everything left in him. He pulled out after. The bottom thanked us both and got dressed and left. We caught up a little bit and I told him about some of my adventures and he told me what he's been up. I love talking with him and hearing him. It was fun catching up with him. I took a quick shower and some of his cum came out of my ass. I figured this would make my Daddy very happy too knowing I'd see him in a few hours. We chatted a bit more after and then he had stuff to do and I had to get going. I did not realize what time it was. It was nearing time to see my Daddy. I gave the traveling top a kiss and a hug and we both said goodbye. I headed over to see Daddy. I was fortunate I was earlier then him at getting there. I got most of my stuff organized and ready. Tatted Daddy Bear And there he was. He met me at my car window like he normally does. I got out of the car and gave him a big hug. I started wimpering and licking his face and kissing him. He was happy to see me and we both held hands and made our way to his unit. I was curious about the surprise Daddy mentioned. First he had me strip completely naked and went to the bedroom. He came back and presented me with a beautful jock strap. Daddy knows how much I love jockstraps and he picked me a really nice one with my colors. I was so happy that Daddy was so thoughtful and considerate. I kissed him and licked him all over and put on my new jockstrap eagerly. He did something different before he hasn't really done before. He sat on the couch naked and had his cock out. I knew what he wanted. I got on my knees and serviced his cock. Eagerly I sucked him and he moaned and groaned. He really enjoyed me sucking him and he said how hot I look in the jock strap. After sucking him for a little bit we went to the bedroom. He got me on all fours and ate my ass. I'm sure he knew I was loaded. I felt his hard daddy dick push inside me. Fuck I could feel him push in and feel the load in me previously lubricate my hole. I felt him pop in me and I whimpered and arfed. He fucked me and I loosened my hole. I did a good job at loosening up for Daddy and also tightening my hole on Daddy's cock. He fucked me a few times on all fours, on my belly, on my back, and bred me multiple times. I rode his cock at one point too. Everything was going great until he was fucking me on my back at one of the points. He noticed something was wrong and asked what it was. I was honest just saying I'm a little tired and it's been a crazy weekend. He could have kept fucking me and breeding me, he could have done whatever he wanted to me. But instead the sweet Daddy came out and he got on his back. He said "Lay down next to me Puppy." I layed on his chest and we cuddled and kissed. I was starting to crash out. He got us under the covers. I got to feel his chest and nipples and warmth. He kissed me and I started to doze off on his chest. He said "Goodnight sweet puppy". I woke up a little later and it was dark outside. I yawned a little bit and saw he was awake. He asked how I slept. We talked a little bit. I think he thought that this was it and I was going to leave not fulfilling my Daddy. That's not the kind of pup/boy I am. I might falter but I'll always recover and make it ten fold. I started kissing and licking Daddy's face. I started whimpering and then I took Daddy's flaccid cock into my mouth and started sucking him. He got hard pretty quickly. He said "Fuck boy". That's exactly what he did. I got on all fours and he fucked me again. This time I was matching his thrusts, loosening my ass and tightening it at the right time and matching Daddy's passion and urges. He fucked me on all fours, on my back, on my side, stomach, and near the end I rode Daddy. We ended it where I was on my back and he fucked and bred me that way. He had to get going so we had to wrap things up. I mean technically everything we did after I woke up was wrap up. But I could tell he was happy and somewhat drained. I know he has incredible stamina and needs but I believe I satsified him. Next time I'll do more. I got dressed and we kissed and made out. He took me to my car and we kissed and said goodbye. I realized that the other surprise he had for me was the bottom we fucked the other night. It's just that it ended up happening earlier. It was a so much fun seeing the Tatted Daddy on Saturday night and having fun with him and being with him and then seeing him the next day. It was really great seeing my Traveling Top Daddy again but him having me tag team a bottom was something completely unexpected. Load Count: Loads Bred Into Me 10-12: I know the traveling daddy top bred me once. But the tatted daddy bear bred me several times. I got the most out of him I think after I woke up I rode him and he fucked and bred me multiple times. Loads I bred 1: Bred the bottom that me and the traveling top daddy were fucking. Until next time..

NO

Chapter 8 The brand on his forehead was gone, washed away in the shower that morning, but the mark remained, seared onto his soul. Nate looked at his reflection in the floor-to-ceiling window of his corner office. The man staring back was familiar—the dark hair, the square jaw, the expensive suit—but his eyes were different. They were cold, clear, and predatory. The world of Dallas finance, with its posturing and cowardly ambition, now looked like a petri dish. And he, Nate, was the contagion. His phone buzzed. It was a text from Brandon. Target acquired? Nate typed back a single word. Soon. His target was Marcus Thorne. For years, they had been nemesis, two alpha dogs fighting over the same scraps of corporate meat. Marcus was a man of impeccable control, his life a fortress of discipline and achievement. But Nate, with his new eyes, could see the cracks. He saw the desperation in Marcus's eyes during their last video call, the tremor in his hand as he signed a deal. He saw a man starving to death in the middle of a feast. He invited Marcus to his office for a late-night drink, to "discuss a truce." It was a lie, of course. There were no truces in their world, only acquisitions. Marcus arrived at 9 PM, his posture rigid, his smile a thin veneer over his suspicion. "Nate. To what do I owe the pleasure?" "To a new venture, Marcus," Nate said, his voice smooth as silk. He gestured to the bar in the corner of his office. "I've acquired a new asset. I thought you might appreciate its... unique properties." He poured two glasses of Macallan 1926, a bottle so rare it was worth more than a man's life. As he turned, his body blocked Marcus's view. In one glass, he dropped a single, small shard of the clear crystal. He watched it dissolve, invisible. He handed the tainted glass to Marcus. "To new horizons," Nate toasted, clinking their glasses. Marcus took a sip, his eyes closing as the peaty smoke of the scotch filled his senses. Beneath it, the chemical fire began its silent work. They talked business, but Nate was steering the conversation, using the language Marcus understood. "Our companies are at an impasse," Nate began. "Sometimes, to move forward, you need a hostile takeover. Not of a company, but of yourself. You need to acquire the one asset you've never had the courage to put on the books: your true nature." Marcus frowned, taking another larger sip of the scotch. The potent liquor, mixed with the crystal, was already softening the sharp edges of his mind. "What are you talking about, Nate?" "Leverage, Marcus. Risk. The thrill of the unknown." Nate stood and walked around the desk, leaning against it in front of Marcus. He unbuttoned his suit jacket, then his shirt, revealing the sculpted muscle of his torso. He turned, slightly, giving Marcus a clear view of the biohazard trefoil inked above his waistband. Marcus's breath hitched. His eyes widened, a flicker of shock and something else—fear, recognition, a horrifying curiosity—in their depths. "What... what is that?" "This is the real asset, Marcus," Nate said, his voice dropping to a low, hypnotic rumble. "This is the Biohazard Brand. It's a promise. It's a brotherhood of men who have stopped playing the game and started living the truth." He walked closer, kneeling in front of the stunned man. He took the glass from Marcus's trembling hand and set it aside. "You're tired of being in control, aren't you? You're tired of the constant performance. We can offer you something else. We can offer you surrender." From his pocket, Nate produced a small, prepared syringe with a dissolved booty bump. "This is the first step," he whispered, his voice a caress. "This is the key. Let me show you how to unlock the door." He reached for Marcus's belt. The older man didn't resist. His mind was a fog of scotch and chemicals, his body humming with a terrifying, exhilarating new energy. Nate undid his trousers, pulling them down. Marcus's cock was already hard, a traitorous response to the forbidden thrill of it all. Nate turned him over the leather sofa, exposing his firm, untouched ass. He was a blank canvas, a prime piece of real estate waiting to be developed. "Relax, Marcus," Nate coached, his voice echoing Kyle's from the other night. "Breathe. This is what real power feels like. This is the poison that will set you free." He pressed the syringe against Marcus's tightly furled hole and pushed the plunger. Marcus gasped, a sharp, electric jolt shooting through him as the chemical fire spread through his most sensitive tissues. His hole began to pulse, to ache, to hunger. "That's it," Nate murmured, his finger tracing the twitching ring. "You feel that? That's your body telling you the truth. It wants this. It needs this." He leaned down, his lips next to Marcus's ear. "You're going to join us, Marcus. You're going to take the gift. You're going to be one of us." He didn't fuck him. Not yet. He simply knelt there, a possessive hand on Marcus's lower back, feeling the tremors of the man's surrender. He watched as his rival, the titan of industry, broke down in his arms, a low moan escaping his lips—a sound of defeat, and of absolute, total release. The revolution had begun. And Marcus Thorne was its first willing casualty.

Chapter 7 The click of the marker cap was the final sound in the symphony of the night. It was the period at the end of a sentence that had been writing itself for twenty years. Brandon watched Kyle step back, his work complete. There, on his twin brother’s forehead, stark and undeniable against the sweat-sheened skin, was the symbol. The biohazard trefoil. A brand more profound than any inked into flesh, because this one was applied by a brother, witnessed by a son, and consecrated by a mentor. It was a holy trinity of ownership. Nate lay in the sling, his body limp and radiant, a vessel finally filled. His eyes were closed, but a serene, beatific smile graced his lips. He wasn't the hedge fund manager anymore. He wasn't the worried father or the grieving widower. He was pure, unadulterated potential, a man reborn in the crucible of his own deepest desires. Brandon felt a surge of love so potent it was almost painful. He had done this. He had brought his brother home. His gaze shifted to Geoff, who stood like a guardian at the head of the sling. The boy was truly gone. In his place was a man, his son, his nephew, his brother-in-arms. The pride in Geoff’s eyes was a mirror of Brandon’s own. He had claimed his father, not out of spite, but out of a profound, filial need to complete the circle. He had given Nate the key, and Brandon had provided the door. And Kyle. Their old friend, their coach. The man who had been the silent third in their youthful triad, the one whose eyes had always held a knowing, predatory glint. Brandon remembered the locker room showers, the way Kyle’s gaze would linger a second too long, the unspoken tension that hummed between them all. Kyle had been the first to find the path. Years after graduation, long before Geoff was even a thought, it was Kyle who had taken Brandon to a place just like this, who had held him down and whispered, "This is what we are, Brandon. This is our real strength." It was Kyle who had given Brandon his first taste of the Scorpion's gift, the lineage that now coursed through Nate’s veins. The circle wasn't just complete; it was a perfect, sacred geometry. This was never just about sex. The straight world saw their symbols, their acts, and called them toxic, dangerous. They were right, but not in the way they meant. Their world was the poison. The mortgages, the performance reviews, the endless pursuit of a hollow, sanitized perfection—that was the real plague. The Biohazard Brand was the antidote. It was a commitment to a truth so raw and powerful it felt radioactive. It was about finding strength in submission, power in surrender, and a family in the shadows. They weren't spreading a virus; they were spreading a revelation. A soft knock came from the door. The observers. The men who had been waiting in the hall, their anticipation a palpable force. This was the next step. The transition from the intimate rite to the communal welcome. Brandon nodded to Kyle, who opened the door. The men who filed in weren't a horde of lust-crazed animals. They moved with a quiet reverence. They were brothers, each with their own story, their own brand. Some had scorpions, some had spiders, some had the trefoil like Nate’s new mark. They didn't descend on the sling. Instead, they formed a respectful line. The first man, a heavily tattooed biker, approached Nate. He didn't touch him sexually. He simply leaned down, pressed his lips to the biohazard symbol on Nate's forehead, and whispered, "Welcome home, brother." The next did the same. And the next. It was a receiving line of the damned, the saved, the chosen. Each man paid his respects to the initiate, anointing the new mark with their breath, their welcome, their shared identity. Brandon watched as Nate, barely conscious, received this communion. A single tear traced a path through the sweat on his temple, a tear of pure, unmitigated release. As the last man paid his respects, Brandon’s mind was already racing toward the future. Nate was initiated. Now the real work began. His brother wasn't just a member; he was a weapon. A man of immense wealth, influence, and discipline, now utterly and completely loyal to the brotherhood. Brandon could already see the list of names, the men in Nate’s world who wore the same mask of quiet desperation that Nate had worn for years. Business partners, rivals, members of his exclusive country club. Nate would be their shepherd. He would bring them to the slaughter, and in doing so, he would grant them salvation. The Biohazard Brand wasn't just a mark. It was a promise. And tonight, they had just gained their most powerful apostle. The revolution had just begun.

My suggestion would be just to indicate that the story was created with an LLM/AI. That way people can know and if they choose not to read it because of that, it's clear, up front. I appreciate that on BDSMLR when people say that pictures/vids are LLM created.

It’s kind of funny to answer cause I don’t really think of it as “men I’ve had sex with,” because that makes it sound like I’m dating or fucking one-on-one, which I rarely do. I’m a cumdump. I count loads and cocks that have used me, not “men I’ve had sex with.” So the real answer is, I have no idea how many individual guys have been inside me, haha. I stopped keeping track of total loads somewhere north of 2,000 a few years ago. Probably closer to 3,000 by now. A lot of those cocks I never saw a face to, never spoke to, don’t even know if the same guy came back for seconds or thirds. So yeah… definitely in the thousand different loads range, probably pushing two or three thousand cocks that have dumped in me or on me. Every single one raw of course or I’d never count it. Still chasing the next thousand. 😊

Probably about 500 fucking me and about 100 fucking

I’m definitely an ass-first cumdump. 99% of the time I just want raw dick up my hole and left there to dump. But the second I see an uncut Top who hasn’t retracted or washed in a while, something flips in my brain and I drop to my knees like a starving whore. That cheesy look and smell under the foreskin makes my mouth water before he even pulls it out. I love peeling the skin back myself and watching the thick yellow-white paste clinging to the head, stuck in every fold. I’ll love tongue-bathing it, working the smegma loose, swirling it around my mouth, chewing on the bigger chunks. lol The taste is so nasty in the best way. So yeah I’m a cumdump first but give me a crusty uncut dick and I turn into the most eager cocksucker on earth. Only thing better is when he fucks my ass right after without wiping, so all that smegma and spit gets shoved up my cunt as lube. 😅

Love you already.

Yes and have. If he’s got a dick and wants to dump a load, I don’t care about much else. I’ve had Doms offer me up to take loads in alleys, behind dumpsters, wherever he tells me to bend over. Some of the roughest, most selfish breeds I’ve ever taken came from evidently homeless guys who hadn’t nutted in days and used my hole like it was the first warm thing they’d felt in a while. lol I’m a cumdump, not a chooser. If he needs to unload, my hole available.

Of course, but then there’s have your cake and eat it too, right — I don’t think our current relationship will wane as long as there is good communication.

looking to get spun and be a cumdump. Need a host!