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I want to be whored out like this so bad anyone in phoenix down to be my lookout and get tops on the apps?!!

The motel's parking lot was a sea of cracked asphalt under the harsh glare of sodium lamps, the air thick with the hum of distant traffic and the stale scent of rain-soaked dumpsters. Jake, barely 19 and hailing from a nowhere town where dreams went to die, had scraped together bus fare on a whim, chasing whispers of quick money in the city. The online ad had promised 'discreet companionship gigs—no experience needed.' He'd figured it meant posing for photos or light flirting, not this. His palms sweated as he clutched the room key, the brass tag for Room 12 biting into his skin. Inside, the space was a time capsule of despair: yellowed walls with water stains blooming like bruises, a lumpy queen bed sagging under its own weight, and a bathroom door that hung crooked on rusted hinges. Jake paced, his sneakers scuffing the threadbare rug, rehearsing lines in his head. He was slim, boyish—5'9" with tousled brown hair, clear skin, and wide blue eyes that screamed innocence. Tight jeans hugged his narrow hips, and a simple white tee clung to his flat chest. The wired half-payment sat heavy in his pocket, a reminder that backing out wasn't an option. The knock came at exactly 9 PM, sharp as a gunshot. Jake's stomach twisted. He cracked the door, peeking out before swinging it wide. There stood Marcus, a wall of a man at 6'3", his frame packed with muscle from years of manual labor and gym sessions. Late 30s, with a square jaw shadowed by dark stubble, cropped black hair, and eyes like chipped emeralds—cold, calculating. He wore a fitted black polo that strained across his pecs and cargo pants that did nothing to hide the bulge snaking down his thigh. A faint scar ran along his left cheek, adding to the air of quiet menace. "You Jake?" Marcus's voice rumbled, deep and edged with authority, as he shouldered past without invitation, the door thudding shut behind him. "Y-yeah," Jake stammered, locking it out of habit. "Marcus, right? Make yourself comfortable. There's... uh, water or chips if you want." Marcus's laugh was low, predatory, echoing off the thin walls. He dropped a duffel bag by the bed and turned, sizing Jake up like prey. "Cut the small talk, boy. I didn't drive two hours for snacks. You read the profile? Know what I expect?" Jake nodded too quickly, cheeks burning. The messages had been vague—'mutual fun, safe play'—but the cash had blinded him. "Sure. We can ease into it. Maybe talk first?" Marcus closed the distance in two strides, his cologne—a mix of leather and spice—overwhelming the room's mustiness. He grabbed Jake's wrist, yanking him close. "Talk's for shrinks. Strip. Now. Or I walk, and you keep that half-payment as a lesson." Jake's breath hitched, but he complied, fingers fumbling with his shirt buttons. It fell open, exposing pale skin unmarked by anything but a faint freckle trail across his collarbone. He toed off his sneakers, then shoved down his jeans, stepping out in plain gray boxers that tented slightly from nerves and unwanted arousal. Marcus watched, unblinking, then peeled off his own polo, revealing a torso carved from stone—broad shoulders, ripped abs dusted with coarse hair that arrowed down to his waistband. "Kneel," Marcus commanded, voice dropping an octave. He unbuckled his belt with deliberate slowness, the leather whispering through loops. Jake sank to his knees, the rough carpet scraping his shins. The zipper's rasp was deafening in the silence. Marcus hauled out his cock—monstrous, at least ten inches of girthy meat, veins bulging like ropes, the uncut head already flushing purple and leaking a fat bead of precum. It bobbed heavily, slapping against his palm as he stroked it to full hardness. "Open wide, rentboy," Marcus said, gripping Jake's hair and tilting his head back. The cockhead smeared across his lips, salty and musky, forcing Jake's mouth apart. He pushed in, the thickness prying his jaw to its limit, filling his mouth until his cheeks bulged. Jake gurgled, eyes watering as he tried to accommodate. His tongue pressed flat against the underside, tasting the bitter tang of skin and arousal. Marcus didn't wait, thrusting forward to bury half his length, the head bumping his tonsils. "Suck harder. Use that tongue like you mean it." Jake hollowed his cheeks, slurping messily as he bobbed, saliva bubbling at the corners of his lips. Marcus's hips rocked, fucking his face with increasing force—short jabs that made Jake choke, throat convulsing around the invading shaft. Tears streamed down his face, mixing with the drool that dripped onto his chest. "Gag on it, boy. Choke like the slut you are," Marcus growled, yanking Jake's hair to control the depth. The room reeked of sweat and sex, wet glucks punctuating each plunge. Minutes stretched into agony, Jake's jaw aching, lips numb. Marcus finally withdrew with a pop, strings of spit connecting them. His cock glistened, throbbing angrily. "Bed. Ass in the air. Time to earn the rest." Jake crawled onto the mattress, knees sinking into the thin padding, heart hammering. He'd fooled around before—a fumbling handjob in a dorm, a quick suck in an alley—but nothing like this beast. Marcus rummaged in his bag, pulling out lube and a condom packet. He slicked his fingers, then knelt behind Jake, who was on all fours, boxers yanked down to his thighs. "Ever taken it up the ass?" Marcus asked, one rough finger circling Jake's virgin pucker. "N-not really," Jake admitted, voice muffled in the pillow. Marcus snorted. "Tight little hole. Gonna ruin you." He shoved a finger in dry first, ignoring the yelp, twisting it deep. Jake clenched, burning pain flaring, but Marcus added a second, scissoring brutally, stretching the ring without mercy. Lube followed, cold and slick, but the prep was cursory—three fingers pumping fast, hooking to graze the prostate and draw involuntary moans. "Please... go slow," Jake begged, trembling. "Slow's for pussies." Marcus rolled on the condom, the latex straining over his girth, then positioned himself. He gripped Jake's hips with bruising force, nails digging crescents into flesh, and rammed forward. The head breached with a pop, tearing a scream from Jake as inches forced their way in, splitting him open. "Fuck, it's too big! Stop!" Jake clawed at the sheets, body locking up. Marcus didn't. He thrust harder, burying to the balls in one vicious shove. Jake's hole resisted, then gave, a sharp rip of pain as the dry friction caused micro-tears. Blood welled, warm and slick, mixing with lube to ease the slide—but not enough. Marcus pulled back, the condom smeared red, then slammed home again, the bedframe rattling. "Take my cock, you whiny bitch," Marcus snarled, setting a punishing rhythm. Each thrust was a battering ram—deep, grinding, his hips slapping Jake's ass cheeks until they reddened. Jake sobbed, the burn intensifying as blood trickled down his thighs, staining the sheets. His hole pulsed around the shaft, torn and inflamed, every withdrawal tugging at the raw edges. But pleasure twisted in amid the agony, his prostate hammered relentlessly, forcing his cock to leak onto the mattress. "It hurts... oh god, it's bleeding... pull out!" Jake gasped, but his hips bucked back on instinct, chasing the fullness. Marcus laughed, sweat flying as he pounded faster. His balls swung heavy, smacking Jake's taint. He reached around, fisting Jake's dick roughly, jerking it in time—twisting the head, squeezing the base until Jake whined. The room was a cacophony: skin slapping wetly, Jake's cries, Marcus's grunts, the metallic tang of blood in the air. Deeper into the rut, Marcus's control frayed. He hooked an arm around Jake's waist, flipping him onto his back without exiting—legs shoved up, knees to chest, exposing everything. Blood smeared Jake's crack, the hole gaping slightly, puffy and wrecked. Marcus drove in again, the angle brutal, cock spearing straight to the core. Jake's eyes rolled, tears carving paths down his temples. "Look at you, bleeding for my dick. Pathetic." Marcus spat on his chest, then leaned down to bite Jake's nipple hard, drawing blood there too. His thrusts turned feral, hips pistoning like a machine, the condom's base chafing the torn rim. Jake's protests weakened, body betraying him as orgasm built unbidden. "No... don't... it burns so much..." That's when Marcus struck. Mid-thrust, his fingers pinched the condom's rim, tearing it with a sharp rip. He yanked the shredded latex free, flinging it aside, and plunged back in bare—hot skin sliding through blood and lube, raw and intimate. Jake felt the shift immediately: the loss of barrier, the increased glide, the danger. "What the fuck? The condom—stop! You're not wearing—" Jake thrashed, but Marcus pinned his arms overhead with one massive hand, the other clamping his throat just tight enough to restrict air. "Shut your hole," Marcus hissed, choking him lightly as he fucked harder. The bare cock dragged against every nerve, blood lubricating the assault. Jake's vision blurred, panic surging as he realized the risk—unprotected, this stranger's seed about to flood him. "Please... cum outside... I beg you," Jake wheezed when the hand eased, legs quivering over Marcus's shoulders. Marcus's eyes burned with dark triumph. He was loaded with HIV, viral count raging from skipped meds, and this naive kid was his perfect vector—young, fuckable, forgettable. "Beg all you want. You're getting bred raw." The pace became savage. Marcus hammered down, cock swelling, veins pulsing against Jake's walls. Blood squelched with each plunge, the hole a ruined mess—swollen, torn, leaking crimson trails. Jake's body convulsed, unwanted ecstasy ripping through him as his prostate was abused. He came first, untouched now, spurting ropes across his stomach with a broken cry, ass clenching like a vice. That triggered Marcus. He roared, burying deep, and unleashed. Cum jetted in thick, forceful blasts—hot, viscous, painting Jake's insides white. Pulse after pulse, overflowing the battered channel, mixing with blood to ooze out in pinkish rivulets. Marcus ground in circles, ensuring every drop stayed buried, marking the boy irrevocably. Finally spent, he pulled out with a obscene squelch, a flood of cum and blood following, soaking the bed. Jake curled fetal, sobbing, his ass throbbing in agony, hole twitching and gaping, unable to close. Fresh blood seeped steadily, the tears deep enough to sting with every shift. Marcus stood, cock softening and streaked red, wiping it clean on Jake's discarded shirt. He tossed the remaining cash on the nightstand. "Worth every penny. Clean up that mess—might wanna see a doc for the bleeding. Or don't. Your call, slut." "You... you did that on purpose. The condom... and you're... sick, aren't you?" Jake whispered, horror choking him as the warmth inside turned to dread. Marcus zipped up, smirking. "Who knows? Life's a gamble, kid. Enjoy the ride." He grabbed his bag and left, the door clicking shut like a final nail. Jake lay there for hours, body wrecked, mind fracturing. The clinic call came days later: positive, as expected. Scars lingered—not just the physical ones on his ass, still tender and scarred from the tears, but the invisible kind, twisting his desires into something darker. In the dead of night, fingers would probe the healed but sensitive ring, memories flooding back: the rip, the flood, the inescapable pull. Tricked, raped, infected, bleeding... and hooked.

I want a hotel cumdump just once either the bottom or the top

This is my 1st person account of a set of events and one core event in which I was a primary participant. I think I’ve done a good job at being correct, truthful, and honest, and told the story to the best of my ability in a way that reflects those days in 2010. One week after the core event concluded, Jason (Ethan in the story), Jacob, Alex and I went to dinner to debrief on the experience and make sure we were in a positive space with each other. There was no reason to feel otherwise. We were all happy and hugged as I departed the house at the end of the 6 days. We had a wonderful dinner. I learned that this all came about because Jason had dated Jacob for a while, who had long ago dated Alex – this is how they one day accidentally came together and started talking about this idea. They were all huge BDSM fans and had the skills, money, and organizing skills to pull of something like this. At the dinner, we all had such amazing smiles on our face, we were laughing, and smiling, they told me some of the things that hadn’t quite gone to their plan – like the piss party on night which was intended to be invite only but turned in a free-for-all (I didn't know what was supposed to happen one way or the other). Don't worry, The Dominants took care of the situation and things were solved by the next day. I don’t know who said it, but as four intelligent thoughtful introspective gay men sat around a table, someone asked “so, did we learn anything?” I remember responding almost instinctively and saying “I need more time to process that. I learned that when you can’t see, a lot can go on in your head. I built trust with you guys. It’s deeper than that, but I can’t talk about it right now cuz I don’t have the words.” I’m sad I responded that way because I think I mentally shut down thinking about the event ever again in a deeper way, until writing this. I wish I could call Jason, Jacob, and Alex and talk to them so many years later about what they remember, share with them what I’ve written, and reconnect. Sadly, 4 months after that dinner, Jason committed suicide. Underlying the suicide was the tragic and unexpected death of both his mother and father and his untreated depression and other undiagnosed but compounding mental challenges. He was a kind, funny, brilliant, compassionate, multi-faceted sex pig who in that area of life alone, was confidant. He knew his kinks and sexuality were outside of the “norm” and he embraced it and showcased it with pride. I didn’t know until after he died that when I went out with him on that date, my friends were all like “this is either gonna be a match made in heaven, or there gonna kill each other with dildos.” I’m gonna go with heaven. Also sadly, about 2 years after that dinner, Jacob died in a car accident caused by a drunk driver. The day I found this out was the last time I spoke to Alex. He was never a social media person even in those early days, I attempted to find him and have so far not been able to. So, this story will remain mine to tell, and as much as writing this down has given me joy, it reminds me of the loss of three people with whom I share a unique experience of significance in my life. An experience that cannot be duplicated and will never be replaced. For years I have jokingly talked about this experience as a “crazy date” and “the week I got locked in a dog cage” with friends and family. I've talked with gay people and straight people, those within the fringe sex community and those that aren't. Some of my straight friends will say sometimes when referring to a bad experience “at least you didn’t get locked in a dog cage.” In writing this, I recognized how much I had suppressed about the actual experience and much calling the "dog cage date" dramatically oversimplified and even disrespected the time that we shared. I think I have some unaddressed trauma over the loss of two of the three people, and the disappearance and disconnection from the third which occurred shortly thereafter. I’m choosing to tell the story and what that experience taught me and do so in a narrative fashion. I am thankful for Jason, Jacob, and Alex for their thoughtfulness creating this experience and including me. For thinking of what we learn about ourselves in every situation, even if it’s a really charged sexual experience. For keeping me safe, giving me the ability to experience things in a different way than I had ever in the past sexually – even if the activity were the exact same. This is for you, appropriately posted on a site called “Breeding Zone” which seems incredibly fitting – on the edge of sexuality, pushing boundaries, having fun, and always making sure the submissive bottom gets “many many many many loads.” Much love.

Be heaven 💋

MAIN CHARACTERS AND GROUPS The following are the core characters featured within "The Trunk and the Cage." The only people who knew each person in these groups were the Dominants. As shared in the Authors note, two tragically died due to unrelated matters and the third has become reclusive. There may never come a time when the Anonymous Guests or the Randoms will ever be identified. The Dominants I was owned and controlled during the event in the story by three Dominants: my primary, Ethan (“Sir”), as well as Jacob (“Sir” or “Jacob”) and Alex (“Sir”). They were close friends who had all at one point dated one another. The became friends because of a share passion and deep interest in BDSM. One of the speakers talked about to develop your “fantasy scenario” – as a project, with significant detail, planning, and preparation to what one might expect for a Broadway play. They worked collaboratively on this over more than 6 months. Coincidentally, I began dating Ethan during the latter part of their story development and I became a primary recruitment target to play the Submissive role. Ethan ultimately was responsible for recruiting me and securing my consent. The Submissive I was the Submissive referred to at all times as “Boy.” I was a fully submissive human who also behaved and was treated like a trained animal similar to a dog. I had to adhere to certain rules (don’t speak unless spoken to). I had to obey commands (all of these followed the format of “Boy, Down!”). I had to accept every experience without complaint or resistance. I was given various areas of focus throughout the course of the event The Anonymous Guests To amplify the experience and make any lessons or skills more memorable for me, the Dominants identified “anonymous guests” who could, by invitation only, participate nightly parties. These anonymous guests had to adhere to the limits covered under the consent but were otherwise given free reign over me as a temporary Dominant. They pledged confidentiality about the event and its participants. The Dominants are the only ones who knew the identities of the guests, including how and why they were selected. It is unclear whether the Guests knew each other. 5 to 7 (estimate only) Guests were brought to the home each not. It is not clear if it was the same or different group every night. The Randoms Every day at least 2 men would come to the house. I’d be taken from whatever I was doing at the time and positioned on the fuck-bench ottoman so they could fuck me and inseminate me. I do not know the identity of these men, I don’t know how the Dominants found them, and I don’t know how many of them stopped by each day. I believe their purpose was to keep me occupied and lubricated while giving the Dominants an opportunity to reset the house, relax, organize, whatever.

good luck with this. If I were nearer, I'd happily donate some unwanted toys. I'd be boned up knowing my plugs and dildos were stretching out another pig's hole

If you want to know the lead-up to the moment in this story, follow the link below. I got in trouble for posting the beginning of this story in this chat room. Punishment was a bit harsh but I will wear it. I spent the next week thinking about Scout’s dad fucking his wife’s arse, and at football training, I kind of hoped his dad would visit and give me an opportunity to ask him more about it. Scout was still his distant self, so I told myself the best option was to keep treating him the same as the rest of the team. A few weeks had passed, no Scout’s dad and no fucking except for jerking off in the showers. Life was beginning to feel a little mundane. An old mate of mine from my pro football days hit me up, and we decided to go out and have a bloody good time. We kicked things off with a few lines of Coke to get the night rolling, then chilled on the deck with a smoke, beers in hand, before hitting the town’s bars. As midnight neared, we were hopping from pub to pub, deep into the night and feeling more raucous with each drink. We finally found a spot in the CBD to hang back and gather ourselves. My mate started telling me about his thatched roof back home—his wife had just found out he'd been seeing other girls behind her back. I shared a bit of my own past with my ex. He wasn’t exactly surprised; he used to be part of the footy crew that loved a party and a bit of trouble. He even reckoned he saw me eating her out after we all gangbanged her—that time’s stuck with him. Honestly, I sometimes wonder if he might’ve been the one who leaked those pics. We made our way to Collingwood. I think we grabbed an Uber. By this stage, I was fucked up. I drank and sniffed so much coke that time became a bit of a blur. I recall queuing up with my mate, trying to compose myself. My mate was in the same state. Music is pumping in the club, and I’m wondering where the fuck I was? ‘Oi, I know you lot. Used to play for the Rabbitohs, right?’ someone in the line said. ‘Used to, mate,’ my friend muttered. ‘Just so you know, this is a gay club,’ the random bloke added. ‘Fuck me!’ My mate and I burst into laughter. ‘Where the hell have you taken me?’ I asked him. He just laughed. ‘I dunno, mate. No idea how we even ended up here,’ he replied. We reached the front of the line, and the bouncer stopped us. He knew full well that we were too intoxicated, and after the comment from the random in the line, he refused us entry. I reckon because he was concerned we might cause a scene or start a fight if something were to happen. If someone were to try to make a pass at us. ‘I think it is time we call it.’ My mate said as we stood by the side of the road. He waved a taxi down. It pulled up and hopped in the back seat. ‘I’m gonna walk home, mate. I need to sober up.’ ‘Suit yourself.’ And the taxi left. I wandered the streets, having no idea where I was or where I was going. I needed a drink. Water. Something. I walked into a convenience store and walked up to the counter. ‘Where’s the fridge, mate?’ ‘Huh?’ the bloke behind the counter grunted, scratching his head. ‘Just a bottle of water, Ta. Thought I’d grab one while I’m here.’ ‘You’re in a bloody sex shop. We’re selling dildos, not bottles of water.’ I pulled my head in and looked around. I noticed a wall full of porn movies, cabinets full of dildos and all kinds of other sex toys. I had no idea how to describe or could never have envisioned how they would work. There were a couple of mannequins dressed in jockstraps and leather harnesses, which I initially thought were people and a door near the back with pink, purple, blue, and orange strips hanging in the front, waving about in the air, blowing out from behind them. ‘I need to sit down for a moment. Can I just sit?’ ‘Yeah. Out the back.’ The guys smirked. I brushed past the colourful strips into a dark and dim hallway. There was a faint beat to the low-level music. As I drew further in, the sound was soon drowned out by moaning and humping. The air had a dense, stale smell. Almost like cigarettes and a dirty men’s bathroom, but slightly different. Slightly mixed with the smell of sex. I entered a room lit only by a large screen at the far end and sat down. I must have dozed off. I slowly came to. Woken by a strange feeling on my cock. I opened my eyelids to find a man around my age sucking on my hard cock. ‘Fuck!’ I pushed him off my cock ‘What the fuck are you doing?’ ‘Wow. Sorry mate. I thought you were enjoying it. Seemed like it. You are rock hard.’ He was right. My cock was hard. But shit. I was out of it. I didn’t realise I was even getting a blow job. And from a guy from that matter. ‘Dude. I’m not gay.’ The guy sat next to me. He seemed a little puzzled, then pointed to the screen. ‘You realise you are in a gay cruise club.’ I looked at the screen to find two masculine blokes fucking. One guy with swimsuit tan lines on his arse bent over with another muscular guy fucking him from behind. ‘Jesus! How’d I get here?’ ‘Beats me, mate. But you are here.’ Every inch of my mind was telling me to get up and leave. But for some reason, I keep looking at the screen. Watching… Admiring the good-looking guys fucking. They reminded me of the lads from the football team I coach. I moved my hand to my cock and began to massage it. For a moment, I forgot the guy sitting next to me, then he caught my eye when he pulled out some glass pipe and a lighter. I turned to watch him heat the bulb at the end and smoke from it. He noticed I was watching. ‘Want to try some?’ He said as he exhaled a white cloud from his mouth. ‘What is it?’ ‘Think of it as a pick-me-up.’ ‘What? Like cocaine?’ ‘Even better. It will get you super horny.’ I figured, why the hell not? I had been partying all night, and I was already feeling a little horny from watching what was happening on the screen. I figured it might help me relax and not be so nervous about what I was watching. I grabbed the pipe, followed the guy's lead, heated the bulb at the end, and smoked. ‘Keep breathing in. Don’t stop.’ I didn’t. It was a rush of adrenaline that hit me from head to toe. I slowly exhaled and repeated the action. ‘There you go.’ I felt an instant need to fuck. I wanted to fuck. But I wasn’t going to fuck a guy. No way. But I didn’t mind watching the gay porn playing on the screen. So, I sat back and jerked for a while. ‘Enjoy your night, mate. I’d suggest exploring the club. You might be surprised.’ He hinted at me and walked off. Interested in what he suggested, I explored deeper into the dark venue. The intense stale smell got stronger the deeper I went. I had not realised how many people were in there. Men… Only men. My mind widened to who I was noticing. First, and most present were young guys, clearly drunk or high, then there were the really old men. Wrinkly, scaly, one had his shirt off, sitting on a bench, fiddling with his tiny dick. But then I noticed clean-looking guys, one in a suit sitting in a booth and a guy on his knees sucking his cock. Guys were at different stages of undress, but what caught my attention were those wearing leather harnesses or just walking around in jockstraps. One particular guy got my attention. He was large and burly, with a big, hairy belly, leaning against the entrance to a booth, wearing boots, jeans, a thick leather belt with a heavy-looking buckle, and a leather harness crisscrossing his large, hairy chest. His eyes locked onto mine, and he lifted a cigar to his lips. As he sucked, the end lit up, giving me a little bit of light to see his long, scruffy beard, then blew out the smoke, which I caught a whiff of as I walked past him. He stayed locked on me the whole time. I could hear the sound of moaning in the distance, the ruffling of what sounded like a large group of men and a hint of a thumping noise. The moaning didn’t sound normal, almost like a drunken, painful noise. Curious, I followed it to a dark room with just a sliver of light peeking through from the gay porn playing on a large screen over the other side of the wall. I walked in. It was crowded. Guys cramped in there, all facing the same direction. I could sense the rhythm of men jerking themselves, and in the middle, a figure getting fucked. I weaved my way in closer; my eyes began to adjust to the dim light. I made my way near the middle and bumped into who the guy was fucking. I was shocked at first. I couldn’t believe what I just walked into. A guy with his face and chest planted into a low, small bench big enough for only one person, while on his knees, spread wide and arse in the air, and a guy fucking him from behind. I was frozen in my state of surprise, but shocked that my instincts weren’t that of disgust. Instead, I felt my cock throbbing in my pants. ‘I’m not gay,’ I kept telling myself. Light kept flickering through. I caught glimpses of the men in the room. Some were young, fit, but most, in fact, I reckon nearly all of them were old men. Some seem like respectable older men, like the fella I saw in the hall wearing a suit, but most look weathered and gaunt. Cocks were out, guys were jerking themselves, and they all had one thing on their mind: to watch this guy face-plant in the bench getting railed. ‘Fuck, yeah. I’m cumming.’ The guy fucking moaned out. ‘Yeah. Give him your load.’ Some said in the crowd ‘Dump in him.’ Said another, somewhere in the back. The guy fucking jittered, and his fucking shortened to quick jabs as he unloaded on the guy. He slipped out as he wiped the sweat off his brow. I couldn’t believe what I just watched. I couldn’t believe that I had a rock-hard boner in my pants from it. And just as I thought the show was over, another guy moved in behind the guy. This guy was much older with a long, solid cock, and he just pushed in balls deep and started fucking. The original guy who just unloaded his cum on the guy disappeared into the crowd. All the while, the guy being fucked, moaned and grunted. It was hard to tell whether he liked it or was in agony. This was all too much. I was peaking from what I had smoked earlier and was uncontrollably horny. I unzipped my pants, pulled them halfway down my hairy thighs and grabbed a hold of my cock and jerked away like the rest of the guys in there. The light flickered again, and I could see a glimpse of the guy with his arse in the air getting fucked with his face planted into the bench. I was surprised by how young the guy was; he couldn’t have been more than 19, with sandy blonde hair and a nice physique. Kinder reminded me of Scout. As the light flickered across his face, I noticed that he seemed semiconscious. He was kinder awake, but not. His eyes were kinder open, and from what I could see, they seemed to roll to the back of his head. ‘He took a fuck load of G.’ Some leaned in and murmured into my ear. G, that was the stuff the gang of blokes gave my ex-wife when they gangbanged her. The guy who murmured into my ear moved a little brown bottle up to his nose and took a huge sniff up each nostril. He must have noticed I was watching and offered it to me. ‘What is it?’ I whispered. ‘You’ll thank me after.’ I took the bottle and followed his lead. Instantly, the already pulsing meth in my system that had me horny as fuck, elevated to a whole new level. I felt an instant rush through my body. I was gone. My concerns about my sexuality evaporated, and I was completely hooked on what I was watching. I jerked furiously. The young man with his head planted on the bench was only centimetres away from me. I watched his body being thumped to the rhythm of the old man fucking him in the arse. Every time the light flickered on his face, my cock throbbed just a little harder. The guy next to me passed his brown bottle to me again. I took another two big sniffs up each nostril. The rush hit me again. My brain buzzed. ‘What is this?’ I whispered. ‘Poppers, mate.’ I needed to get some of it for myself. ‘Fuck yeah, boy. You’re about to get my seed.’ The guy fucking yelled out. ‘Yeah! Breed him.’ Someone in the crowd followed. ‘Get him pregnant.’ Another said. Get him pregnant? I laughed to myself. How funny. He is a boy. The guys fucking started to moan and held onto the boy’s hips tight. He was cumming. He must have had a huge load, because he was in that position for a while. He pulled out, and another stepped up and pushed his cock into the boy, who moaned. ‘Fuck. How many guys have fucked him?’ I whispered again. ‘Since I have been here. I have watched 8 guys fuck and breed him.’ ‘8 guys. What?! And he knows who these guys are?’ ‘Nah mate. He is a cumdump. He doesn’t know who is fucking him. He is only here as a hole for strangers to use and breed.’ The thought of this young boy, no more than 19 years old, completely high on G, getting fucked without any protection by strangers, while semiconscious, was too much for me, and I lost control. I jerked really fast, and I felt my orgasm rise. I moaned out loud, followed by a torrent of cum shooting all over the back of the boy’s head, the side of his face and his shoulder blades. My cumming must have set off a chain reaction. I heard another guy in the dark moan, and through the glimpse of light, I saw a large cock hovering just over the boy’s head, being jerked off and ejaculating all over the boy’s face, mixed with my load. I woke up to a hand tapping me on the shoulder. ‘Dude. It is closing time.’ My eyes sprang open. Static on the large monitor. My pants were down to my ankles, my soft, crusty cock flopped over my thigh. The guy from the counter was standing over me. ‘Clearly you had a good time.’ I must have passed out. I had no idea how long I had been slumped in the chair like this. I stumbled to my feet, pulling my pants back up and left. I showered, my mind flickering through what I watched the night before. I kept telling myself that I am no faggot, and it was the drugs that made me think and feel the way I felt. But the young lad taking dick after dick and never seeing who they were kept springing to the front of my mind, and I was raging hard. I jerked off in the shower and sprayed my load across the tiled wall. ‘Fuck’, I thought. ‘What the fuck is wrong with me?’ I had to do something about it. Let me know what you think. And tell me what you think happens next.

There TEASER excerpts where published on December 27, 2026.

my route to success was: the small and medium of these: [think before following links] https://www.johnthomastoys.co.uk/product-page/john-thomas-the-ripper-platinum-silicone-stretcher-1 an inflatable dildo and a pig tunnel. it took nearly 2 years (I mostly top) having stretching sessions on average 2-3 times a week. I would have tried more often, if I was able. You're gonna have fun: a fat, sexy as fuck PA and an abused, looser hole.

Here is a link to the blog landing page. The "about the story" content has been published.

It looks like this link to the last Excerpt didn't publish. Here you are:

Here is the link to the forthcoming blog. The "About the Story" content has been updated.

We're already there sir 🥵 Although I guess if I get doubled then I can count it as two for the challenge maybe 😅

This story keeps getting better and better!

Damn hot story so far. The build up has me very horny. Can't wait to read more of your hot writing!

The dim glow of the living room lamp cast harsh shadows across the cluttered house, bottles scattered like fallen soldiers on the coffee table. Mike, a 42-year-old construction worker, slumped on the worn couch, his massive frame spilling over the edges. At 6'2" and built like a brick wall from years of manual labor, he was a force—broad shoulders, hairy chest straining his stained tank top, and a gut from too many beers. But it was the bulge in his sweatpants that told the real story: a thick ten-inch cock, veined and heavy, always ready to wreck. Tonight, after losing another shift to the bottle, Mike was three sheets to the wind, his bloodshot eyes fixed on the hallway where his 18-year-old son, Tyler, padded barefoot toward the kitchen. Tyler was the spitting image of innocence lost too soon—slim and athletic from school sports, with messy brown hair, smooth skin, and a tight bubble butt that filled out his boxer briefs. He'd just turned legal, but to Mike, he was still the boy he'd raised alone after Tyler's mom bailed years ago. Resentment festered in Mike like rot; the kid reminded him of failures, of nights spent jerking off to twisted fantasies instead of building a life. 'Fuck it,' Mike slurred to himself, swigging from a half-empty whiskey bottle. The alcohol burned, fueling the rage and lust churning in his gut. Tyler froze when he heard the heavy footsteps behind him. 'Dad? You okay?' he asked, turning with a glass of water in hand. Mike lunged without a word, grabbing Tyler by the throat and slamming him against the fridge. The glass shattered on the linoleum, shards skittering like ice. 'Shut your mouth, boy,' Mike growled, his breath reeking of booze. Tyler's eyes widened in terror, hands clawing at the iron grip. 'Dad, stop—' Mike's free hand yanked down Tyler's boxers, exposing the boy's firm ass cheeks. 'Been watchin' you prance around, teasin' me. Time you earned your keep.' He spun Tyler around, face smashed into the cold metal door, and freed his throbbing dick from his pants. It slapped against Tyler's thigh, hot and rigid, the foreskin peeled back to reveal a glistening head. Tyler bucked, screaming, but Mike pinned him with his weight, kicking the boy's legs apart. No prep, no mercy. Mike spat once on his palm, slicking his shaft just enough, then rammed forward. The blunt cockhead breached Tyler's virgin hole, tearing a raw scream from the teen. 'Tight little fucker,' Mike grunted, forcing inch after inch past the resisting ring. Tyler's body convulsed, nails scraping the fridge as pain exploded inside him. Mike didn't stop, hips snapping brutally, burying his full length until his hairy balls mashed against Tyler's taint. He pounded like a jackhammer, each thrust ripping deeper, the dry friction grinding tender walls. Tyler sobbed, begging, 'Please, Dad, it hurts—stop!' But Mike laughed, a guttural sound, slapping the boy's ass red. 'Take it, you worthless shit. This ass is mine.' Sweat poured down Mike's back as he reamed relentlessly, his cock pistoning in and out, stretching the hole to its limits. Tyler's struggles weakened, body going slack from shock, but Mike kept hammering, grunting with every plunge. After ten minutes of savage assault, something gave—Tyler's ass tore, a sharp rip inside sending fresh agony through him. Blood welled up, warm and slick, coating Mike's shaft as he pulled back for a look. 'Fuck yeah, bleedin' for Daddy,' he rasped, mesmerized by the crimson streaks on his dick. Tyler whimpered, vision blurring from tears and pain, but Mike dove back in, using the blood as lube now. It squelched obscenely with each thrust, the metallic tang mixing with sweat in the air. Mike's pace quickened, the slipperiness letting him go deeper, harder, churning the blood into a frothy mess that dripped down Tyler's thighs. 'That's it, grease my cock with your guts,' Mike snarled, gripping Tyler's hips hard enough to bruise. He fucked through the resistance, the bleeding hole clenching spasmodically around him. Tyler's cries turned to broken gasps, his small cock trapped against the fridge, untouched and soft. Mike reached around, squeezing it roughly. 'Bet you're lovin' this, fag.' The teen shook his head, but his body betrayed a twitch, the pain blurring into numb haze. Mike railed for another half-hour, the kitchen floor slick with blood and sweat. Finally, with a roar, he slammed balls-deep and erupted, hot jets of cum flooding Tyler's ravaged insides, mixing with the blood into a sticky slurry. He held there, grinding, milking every drop before yanking out. Tyler collapsed to his knees, ass gaping and oozing red-tinged jizz, body trembling. Mike tucked himself away, panting, then hauled the boy up by his hair. 'Clean up your mess,' he ordered, shoving Tyler's face toward the bloodied cock. The teen gagged, lips parting weakly as Mike skull-fucked him, smearing the mess across his tongue until satisfied. But Mike wasn't done owning him. The next evening, after sobering up just enough, he dragged Tyler—still sore, walking bow-legged—to the garage where his buddies gathered for poker nights. Four roughneck construction mates: Hank, a burly redhead with a beer belly and thick seven-incher; Lou, wiry and mean with tattoos snaking up his arms; Pete, the quiet one with a surprisingly fat dick; and Vic, the loudmouth, hung like Mike but crueler. They'd crashed at Mike's before, swapping stories of bar fights and easy lays, but tonight Mike had a surprise. 'Boys, got a treat,' Mike announced, shoving Tyler into the center of the circle of folding chairs. The teen was stripped to nothing, bruises blooming on his pale skin, ass still swollen and faintly bloody. The men leered, beers in hand, as Mike explained. 'My boy's open for business. Twenty bucks a pop, or free if you make him bleed more. Use him rough—ass, mouth, whatever. He's a hole now.' Tyler pleaded, 'Dad, no—please,' but Mike backhanded him silent. 'Shut up and bend over the table.' The poker game turned into a gangbang auction. Hank went first, tossing a crumpled bill and dropping his jeans. His cock was rigid, uncut, and he spat on Tyler's ass before shoving in. The boy yelped, the fresh intrusion reopening the tear, blood trickling anew. Hank gripped the table edges, slamming forward, his gut slapping Tyler's back. 'Fuck, he's loose but grippy,' Hank groaned, pounding steadily, the cards scattering forgotten. Lou was next, paying double for the mouth. He grabbed Tyler's hair, forcing his throat down on his tattooed shaft while Hank kept reaming the ass. Tyler choked, saliva bubbling, as the two men spitroasted him over the green felt. Pete waited his turn, stroking his girthy meat, eyes on the blood smearing Tyler's cheeks. Vic laughed, filming on his phone. 'Gonna make bank whoring this kid out.' They rotated, each man taking a hole. Mike joined in, pimping his own son like chattel, collecting cash and barking orders. 'Deeper, Lou—make him gag.' Tyler's body rocked with the assaults, ass bleeding freely now, the table slick beneath him. Pete flipped him onto his back, legs over shoulders, and plunged his fat cock in, stretching the torn ring wider. Blood lubed the way, squelching as Pete thrust, hitting spots that made Tyler's dick leak despite the horror. Hours passed in a blur of cocks and cum. Hank came first, pulling out to shoot across Tyler's face, then shoving back in to plug the load inside. Lou flooded the boy's mouth, holding his nose until he swallowed. Vic went raw in the ass, churning the mess, his hips blurring. 'Bleed for me, slut,' he taunted, clawing nails into Tyler's thighs. Mike took the last turn before a break, using the fresh blood to slick his way, fucking slow and deep while the mates cheered. By midnight, Tyler was a ragdoll—body limp, covered in jizz and bruises, ass a ruined, gaping wound pulsing blood. They propped him on the couch, passing him around for seconds. Pete straddled his chest, tit-fucking the boy's pecs before shoving into his mouth. Vic and Lou double-teamed the ass, one after the other, no recovery time. Hank held Tyler's arms, ensuring no escape. In the frenzy, things escalated. Vic, drunk and raging, decided to choke the boy while fucking him. He wrapped a belt around Tyler's neck, yanking tight as he rammed in. 'Squeeze that hole,' Vic grunted, the constriction making Tyler's ass clench hard. The teen's face turned purple, eyes bulging, but the men laughed it off as play. Mike watched, counting bills, too buzzed to intervene. Pete took over the ass next, flipping Tyler face-down and mounting him like a dog. He thrust wildly, the blood making obscene sounds, while Lou face-fucked from the front. Tyler's struggles faded, body twitching erratically. Vic tightened the belt again, riding the high, not noticing the boy's gasps turning silent. A final, brutal plunge from Pete—too deep, too hard—snapped something inside. Tyler went still, neck limp, the belt's pressure crushing his windpipe in the accidental strangle. The room stilled for a beat. 'He pass out?' Hank muttered, poking Tyler's cheek. No response. Mike checked the pulse—nothing. 'Fuck, he's gone.' But the booze and lust overrode sense. Vic shrugged, still hard. 'Dead meat's still warm. My turn.' He yanked the belt off and flipped the body over, shoving his cock into the slack mouth. No resistance now, just a lifeless hole to plunder. They kept going, the accidental death fueling a darker frenzy. Hank claimed the ass first, pounding the cooling flesh, blood still oozing as lube. 'Tighter now,' he groaned, slamming until he came inside the corpse. Lou and Pete double-penetrated the ass, stretching it impossibly, grunting as they chased release in the unresponsive body. Mike, last, mounted his son's face, jerking off onto the glassy eyes before skull-fucking the throat one final time, cum bubbling from the lips. By dawn, Tyler's body lay sprawled, used and discarded, cum pooling from every orifice amid the drying blood. The mates cleaned up, pocketing their change, joking about the 'best poker night ever.' Mike dragged the corpse to the basement, already planning how to spin the story—runaway kid, nothing more. The house fell quiet, but the echo of thrusts lingered, a [banned word] legacy sealed in silence.

So I'm starting my training to become a better FF bottom. I have two new buttplugs on the way that are for training. My house remodel is taking extra time and all my toys are locked up back at the house. I'm trying to find anyone in the local area that might be looking to part way with some of their collection. My upsized PA healing is 4 weeks at minimum so I'm trying to use the time productively 🙂