Ranger Rick

That bottom is really taking a pounding. Woof.

Skinny and nerdy is good, beefy and nerdy is good, beefy and jock-y, that's really good.

Great after-work hookup with a muscle-cub just a mile from the office. Nicely built on the shortside with just a bit of overhang on his gut, love it. Invited me upstairs for a popper-enhance BJ, then he bent over his bed and I mounted and bred him.

From my POV, it would be hot to fuck a guy who was being whored out by another guy.

"I may just become the freakiest pig Vegas has ever encountered." Worse than Liberace, Siegfried and Roy, and Celine Dion combined!

Yeah, it's a fantasy all right.

PReP is probably the optimal solution. In my experiences, decisions made on the basis of, "I feel like this is something I want right now" seldom work out well.

So, your basic question is, "Will men lie in order to have sex?"

Speaking as a top, I worry. I often think I'd rather get the HIV than the genital warts or the Hep C.

I'd have escorted in college. I had the opportunity and offers, but didn't feel right about it and had too many hangups. The money sure would have made college easier and, who knows, might have made some social contacts. Also, at the time, I assumed escort meant bottoming and I wasn't into that.

At least make him buy you dinner, first.

Is there any logical reason to make a choice to do something that has myriad negative consequences, will place limits on future choices, and, once done, cannot be undone?

His A4A ad described him as "80% straight married guy who likes a little action on the side." He also indicated in chat that he only played safe and, in fact, just wanted to get his cock sucked. Horny, I invited him over on his lunch hour. You can probably guess how this story ends; with 80% straight married guy who always plays safe and just wanted his cock sucked going back to work with a double-shot of my loads in his 80% straight married ass.

Most good. Most good.

None of them. But definitely Rory. Strangely, not Captain Jack.

Instant favorite. (Love it when you can see their faces.) http://www.toxxxictube.com/video/1458/uncle-jim-fucks-my-hole-raw.html

It would involve a very willing lacrosse team. Know any?

I noticed during a couple of recent fucks how the talk is so nasty during the act. And then five minutes after we're finished, we're talking about work and pets and stuff. Kinda funny, really.

Which is why guys are starting to lie about being 'Undetectable.'

And then Chad shows up. Chad is big, horny Greek dude in his late thirties; his boyfriend is a hot Latino. They're not offically "open" but they fuck around on each other constantly. They frequent the baths, but never together. Chad missed the show last time. And he's damned sure not to miss it tonight. He enters the room and wordlessly unwraps the towel from his waist, showing up a thick, veined monster cock the size of a forearm. Coach grins. "Oh, baby, Fuck yeah." Chad is something of a legend round these parts for being too big to fit through the glory holes. Even the slut bottoms fear Chad's monstercock. Georgie tried to ride him once, but only got a couple of inches in before giving up. Chad usually has to settle for jacking off unless he can find a freshly fisted guy on muscle relaxants or horse tranqualizers who's been opened up enough to take him. The boy can't see what he's in for, but he can feel Chad's meat as Chad positions himself between his spread out thighs and slaps it across his buttocks to warm bot of them up for the fucking ahead. Nothing his master done could have prepared him for the twelve-and-a-half inches of hell about to invade his rectum. He shudders in fear. The boy moans and grunts as Chad squeezes his daikon radish of a cock into the boy's hole. Though it's been opened up by a half-dozen willing cocks, nothing has prepared him for the invasion it is feeling from a cock as thick as a strong man's wrist and long enough to tickle his tits from the inside. The puckered sides of his asshole strain to accept Chad's swollen head. "Steady, Kyle," Coach says, the only word of encouragement he has offered the boy all night. Chad doesn't fuck around, he slides that monster in until his pubes touch the boy's ass. Kyle grimaces in agony, he's crying out now, mostly incoherent, but the phrase, "please fuck no" escapes his mouth more than once. For once, coach, probably aware of how much agony it is for a slender young twink to take a monstercock like Chad's doesn't admonish him to be quiet. When Chad makes his first thrust, the boy whimpers. "Just relax," Chad tells him. "I'm going to fuck you 'til I cum no matter what. There's nothing you can do about it. And it'll go a lot easier if you just relax and take it." To make his point, his next thrust is harder and deeper, he's obviously pushed through the second sphincter. He thrusts again, and Kyle doesn't know whether he's in agony or ecstasy, such is the mix of sensations flooding his brain. Chad goes easy on him for the first five minutes, thrusting in slowly and pulling out slowly as Kyle's chute learns to accept the length and breadth of the monster squeezing inside him. But after that, Chad picks up the pace, pulling his dick farther out on the downstroke, and pressing it in harder on the upstroke. Sometimes, he tries to squirm free, or raise his arms as though to push Chad away, but Chad just pushes them back down. After a while, Kyle just succumbs to the fucking he is getting, as though he has gone through the pain and come out the other side. He's breathing really hard, gritting his teeth, biting his lip against the severe thrusts Chad is throwing into him, but he gives up trying to escape. The jism from the other men has become a foamy coating on Chad's head and shaft as he fucks the kid. Everything that was in the kid's bowels is being churned together into one frothy mass by the action of Chad's monstercock. Chad's rhythm gets even faster and his breath starts coming in abbreviated gasps as his huge cock grinds in and out of Kyle's tortured hole. "Oh, fuck. Oh fuck. Oh fuck. Oh fuck," he chants. "Fuck yeah. Oh fuck. Oh f-u-u-u-u-u-u-u-u-u-u-u-u-u-c-k-k-k-k-k-k-k-k-k!" In mid-thrust, he shoots his load deep into Kyle's ravaged guts. His rhythm and motion diminish, his remaining thrusts grind his manload deep into the torn-up walls of the boy's rectum. 'Coach' himself has shot a load watching the onslaught on his boy's ass. His big meaty hand is coated with wads of slick white cum. "Oh, shit," coach says, catching his breath. "Whew." Chad slowly extracts his beast from inside as the boy whimpers softly. His cock makes a suction sound as he pulls his head from the boy's hole. Kyle's asshole is a wide gaping hole after the pounding it took from Chad; his eyes are wet and he's been crying. Underneath him, though, drops of white cum have spattered the floor. In the midst of his hard fucking, Kyle came, too. Chad picks up his towel from the floor and begins sponging off. "Fuck, that was great. Where do you find theses boys?" Chad asks. Coach looks at him like he is an idiot. "Within ten miles of this spot, there's a college, an army base, a rest area, and a prison for young offenders 18-21. It's like a gaddam hunting preserve." He winks. "You might say the Government sends me boys and I make men out of 'em." As he talks, he thrusts one of his rough, muscly hands into the crack between the boys ass cheeks and roughly works two then three fingers into has rectum, massaging in the loads the boy has taken earlier in the night and mixing his own with them. "Don't you dare make a sound," he orders Kyle. He scoops more cum from underneath the boy and shoves it in, mixing Kyle's cum in his ass with the cum of all the men who've fucked him. Chad wraps his towel around himself. "Every other month, me and some of the guys have a party. It's pretty exclusive, but if you're willing to bring some 'entertainment,' we'd love to have you. Interested?" Coach half-grinned. "I might be able to arrange something for ya."

That pale blond but is so round and perfect it has to be admired and appreciated before it's violated. It's not as smooth as it looks from further back in the dim yellow light of the room. There is a fine coating of peach fuzz all around the boy's cheeks, and it goes down his thighs and to his calves. He is one of those smooth on top hairy on the bottom boys. Or maybe coach has shaved him. No, the skin of his back is too naturally smooth to the touch. His shoulder blades cut little chicken-wing shapes into the skin below his shoulders, rising and falling with his breaths. Squirting a little gun lube and slathering up the dick for the raw fuck, taking a look at the boy's bound hands. They are the hands of a young working class man, rough on the palms, rough nails; coupled with the light scruff of beard on his chin, he has the looks of those white blue collar boys in jeans and work boots and fluorescent vests you run into at the convenience store at 6 in the morning on the way to their highway/construction/landscaping jobs their dad's buddies set him up with. How did he come to end up on coach's fuck bench, trussed up like an animal after the hunt. Did he know, when he woke up this morning, that he would be offering up his ass to strangers' cocks in a seedy bathhouse? How had 'Coach' groomed him for this? His asshole is warm and slick with cum, lube, and saliva as your cock slides into him. The boy must be getting a little raw at this point; he flinches when your cock finds its way inside. The head guides the way in, like the way is familiar. The shaft follows until its length and thickness is swallowed up and the root touches the edge of his hole. Shit, it feels good, even fucked four times already it's still giving up a stimulating amount of resistance; so hot and warm. Doesn't take long to find a rhythm in the fine ass that's been offered, feeling like a god indulging the sex offering that's been laid out on an altar; a young body sacrificed to cock on an altar of lust. The thought of it, fucking this kid who you could have passed on the street a day ago, in jeans and workboots; now naked underneath you, his ass and body just taking your cock. While you're fucking him, he belongs to you, his body is yours; his ass exists to gratify your cock. Fuck, wouldn't it be hot if his buddies on the work crew saw him laid out like this, taking men's cocks in a dark sweaty room; taking loads without question. Fuck, how many of them would be repulsed by this scene. (And how many turned on.) Breathing heavily, you continue to thrust in and out of his warm, delicious hole. Your experience head rush as your orgasm begins to build. All too soon the ride is over. An intense orgasm builds, beginning in the balls and then pushing into the cock for delivery, like the thick load of semen is too much for the urethra to take, it explodes warm and wet into the boy's blond dickhole, coating his insides with a sixth strain of DNA. A few more grinds to make sure all the semen inside the kid is well-mixed, and then a slow easy pullout from his hole, which has begun to develop a swollen pucker around its perimeter. Good as it is, it ain't Joey's ass. Then again, the sequel's never as good as the original. Almost as soon as you finish, an tall skinny twink in a baseball cap takes your place. He's skinny and smooth, but generously hung, and he slides his big fat cock into the wet hole and gives the blond boy his next pounding of the night. He doesn't last very long though, and quickly shoots the boy his seventh load of the night. He holds his cock inside after he cums to make sure every drop ends up in that ass.

Part 2 It wasn't hard to find out which room they'd taken... a short line has already formed outside and there is room for three or four men inside. Coach stands just on the inside, naked, a metal cockring visible at the base of his erect beer-can dick, glinting in the available light. The guy inside the room clearly is not Joey. He's more slender than muscled. He's blond, with scruff on his chin and upper lip, a tall, lean boy of about 22, maybe. He has been positioned on the fuck bench in the center of the room, ass up and naked except for the studded leather cuffs that secure his hands behind his back. The only light in the room, a dim yellow bulb, is directly above him, spotlighting his ass, making it possible to see his face, although the men he's been offered to will remain anonymous to him. A ginger-haired bear with a goatee is plowing him, raw, his thick body and the overhang of his gut assaulting the boy's hindquarters with each thrust. His dick is not so long, merely a stump on his massive hairy body, but it is thick and veined and its purple mushroom head is buried in the boy's asshole and already smearing it with a steady trickle of precum. The bear has worked up a sweat and drops of his perspiration fall steadily from his red-skinned brow onto the boy's smooth back; the smell of him fills the room, mansweat like sour, rusty coins. He is focused with utter and complete intensity on fucking the young man underneath him. The boy doesn't take it with the detachment that Joey did, maybe he is not drugged, or maybe simply lacks the necessary discipline, but he grits his teeth and clamps his eyes shut tight against the onslaught his rear quarter is getting. His dirty blond hair hangs over his brow (and by the end of the evening will be slick with perspiration). Every few strokes he lets out a grunt or a moan, his breaths come quick, as he snatches air whenever the bear lifts his weight from his back. Suddenly, the big ginger bear's pace quickens. His load his rising. He thrusts harder and harder into the boy, bracing his meaty arms on the boy's upper arms. He throws one final, deep thrust into the boys guts and grunts like an animal, like a bull, finishing the act of insemination. And with that, the first stranger's load of the night begins soaking into his guts. The ginger bear pulls out and leaves. Next, coach let a pair of guys tag team his charge. A stockier and balding guy in his forties with a rusty-red goatee and a thick veined dick and a military-looking guy in his mid-thirties with an average dick and tattoos on his arms and calves. The army guy goes first, sliding his dick smoothly into the kid's hole and fucking, just fucking, while the older guy strokes his cock to a respectable boner. The military guy pulls out and let's the other guy in. They swap back and forth until finally the military guy shoots his wad into the boy's hole. He leaves before the other guy blows his wad in the hole, too. The next top mounts the supine young man; a lean gentleman with a trim beard, salt and pepper hair, and a thick gauge silver Prince Albert glinting at the tip of a long 8 inch penis. He pushes the boy's thighs apart to gain better entry, then in a quick thrust buries to full length of his cock in the boy's mineshaft. The sudden movement takes the boy by surprise and he cries out in pain. At which point 'Coach' moves to the front of the fuck bench and clamps a big, meaty hand across the boy's mouth. "These fuckers don't want to listen to your whinin'" he says. He holds his hand there long enough to interruption the boy's breathing. When he pulls it off, the boys gasps for breath. "Now, you keep your bitch mouth shut or I'll dump you off where I found you," 'Coach' says. The Prince Albert guy maintains his fucking throughout this exchange, thrusting long, sure strokes as the kid grips his teeth and tries to stay quiet, another guy walks in, and bustles his way over until he is standing next to 'Coach.' His name is Georgie; he first started showing up at the baths two, maybe three months ago; a short, young cub with a cherubic face. A little heavy, but not fat, barely older than the boy on the bench, and so very eager to please; he's taken loads from most all of the regulars, and is usually the first to go up to any newbies and offer his ass. His shining eyes look up at 'Coach' and he smiles. "You should do that to me sometime," he says. "Reckon I might," Coach replies. "Let me get a look at that ass." In a quick movement, 'Coach' grabs him by the back of the neck and bends him over. With his other hand, he grabs one of Georgie's pale smooth as cheeks and pinches it hard, then pulls his cheeks apart to get a look at his rosebud. "Oh!" exclaims Georgie, more in shock and surprise than pain. Coach leans over and whispers something into Georgie's ear. Whatever he whispers makes Georgie blush. Prince Albert grunts and shoots his load into the boy's ass. He pulls his deflating dick out of the hole almost immediately and departs, almost as if embarrassed. Coach pulls Georgie up straight again. "You see what's dripping out from my boy's ass," says coach. And without waiting for a reply, he orders, "Clean it up!" Georgie cocked his head, unsure of what he had heard. "Sir?" "What are you, deaf? Clean up my boy's ass with your mouth or get the fuck out of here," coach said. The young cub kneels behind the fuck bench and buries himself in the boy's ass, licking the four cumloads as they leak through the widening fissure of his ass crack. A moan escapes the boy's mouth. "That's enough," says the Master. "Don't clean it all up. I want that juice to soak up inside him real good." Georgie stands and wipes his chin. He turned to 'coach' with glittering eyes. "Thank you, sir." "Go on, git!" coach orders. Georgie turns as he reaches the door and lightly rubs his ass cheek invitationally. Coach winks at him. "Git!" Georgie retreats from the room. The coach turns. "All right, Buddy. Your turn."

Some weeks passed, and the brush cut master and his charge did not return to the baths; and they were missed. Those who were there told others of the amazing muscle ass laid out for them that night, taking in load after load without complaint, barely without acknowledgement. Leaving just as dawn was breaking, almost carried out by the 6'5" man they called 'Coach;' Cum leaking down his legs from under his lacrosse shorts. No one ever found out for sure whether the man was the coach and the boy his prize athlete. They settled on that because they needed a backstory when they explained it to the jealous bastards who hadn't been there. All they could say for sure was that the boy's name was Joey and he took loads all night, without ever once coming himself. Attendance at the bathhouse spiked in the days and weeks that follows, as others hoped for a chance to breed and seed that perfect jock ass; or maybe, a few just wanted to know what the real story was. And even though 'coach' hadn't fucked anyone himself that night, there were plenty of willing bottoms if he chose to come back; some of the young dudes hoping he'd lay their asses out and give 'em away to strangers. But as weeks went by, the regulars -- the guys who actually talk to each other -- began to think it had been a one-time thing; and the less-regulars thought the tale a legend the regulars had made up, or at least exaggerated, and they went back to fucking each other, and the occasional visitor, and the occasional drunk and desperately horny twenty-something, and the more-than- occasional tweaked out hustler that passed through. And then one night, Coach came back. With a brand new boy.

I dunno. I'll ask my next bottom.