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As I walked toward my room, I checked out the scene. Not at all what I had expected - the pool area was outdoors, overgrown and unkempt. The TV room was incredibly small, but did boast two levels. I never say a sling, gloryhole area, cross, or other amenities that I ad been expected. And there was a huge amount of construction going on. For a second or so, I indulged i the fantasy of getting fucked by a straight construction worker, but then discarded that as highly unlikely. As I turned the key to my room, I felt a hand brush across my ass and looked up to see a grandpa, at least in his 70's wink and smile. I have known hot daddies, and age is just a number, but it was clear that this gent had not bothered to keep himself fit. I began to see why the twink behind the counter showed so much attitude - he must get hit on all the time. But I felt more a contempt from him - I felt .... heat. The attitude was just an act to cover it. I was sure. I wandered around for a bit, and things were looking up. Took a load from an older Asian dude, who mumbled over and over, "Breed you, breeding you, breed..." Got fucked and sucked in the maze, but the walls were so close together that it was very difficult. Laid face down on the padded riser n e TV room and took two random loads from guys I never saw, and had a couple of others fuck me,without cumming. All raw - seems like no one here was even remotely concerned with condoms. Good. As I got up, I saw the Hispanic twink over in e corner with a couple of younger guys, talking and pointing at men as they passed. I decided to sit over in the corner and observe. As I sat down, I caught his eye, and he turned very serious, lost his smile, and turned his back to me. It was a nice sight. Although he was thin, he wasn't skinny - just small. Maybe 5-foot-six, one hundred forty. He was well-defined, but not muscled at all - just casually well-put together, as if God had hung the muscles on him with great prevision, so that he wouldn't have to work out. I could almost feel the soft firmness just by looking. His shoulders tapered down to a waist that had to be 26 inches. He still had on the blue tunic, but that hit, round bubble ass was covered with a ratty white towel that he had wrapped around his waist. I could not spot a room key anywhere on him - good. He was looking for someone to host. The twinks milled about for a few minutes longer. They'd occasionally burst out in laughter when guys would try to approach, but one by one, they were led off by guys of all ages and sizes until just my twink was left. Apparently he was a lot pickier than the others. Either that or he was waiting for someone. I decided to find out. I stood up and opened my towel so that I could adjust it. He got a brief glimpse of my semi-hard 9 inches. He smiled. I sneered. Then I winked, turned my back, stretched like a cat, and flexed my muscles until I was sure that he was transfixed. Without looking back, I started heading to my room. I passed a few tempting sights along the way - a few guys face down, a hot black guy stroking a gigantic pole, a college-aged couple obviously tweaked and looking for company. I kept going. As Zi rounded a corner I looked back and expected to see my boy following, but I was disappointed - he wasn't in sight. I resisted the urge to head back to the couple or the BBC (or, more likely, both), and found my room. Once inside, i pulled out my pipe and dropped in a good sized shard - a little less than a quarter. Lit the torch and within a few seconds I blew out a thick white cloud and felt the smoke go straight to my dick. I lazily rubbed the head while I prepared for a second hit. But just as I was raising the torch toward the bowl, I heard a knock. I clicked off the torch and dropped my baseball cap over the pipe and the torch. I opened the door, and before I could even tell who was there, the little Mexican Twink was in my room standing directly in front of me with his hands on his hips. "This is a non-smoking room, " he said accusatorially. "Bullshit, pipsqueak," I retorted. He stared at me, and I stared back - a true Mexican stand-off. Then he smiled, looked down, and said, "It's OK. If you want to share, I won't tell." I pulled the baseball cap off the pipe and torch, and laid down on the bed, loosened my towel, and said, "Help yourself, puta." "Yeah, Papi," he said as he almost lunged for the pipe. He sat on the bed with his back to me as he took his first hit - a healthy-sized one that produced a nice cloud. He clearly wasn't new to partying. He immediately took a second and then a third. "Slow down, boy, tat's strong shit." He turned and looked at me, clearly annoyed. "I work at the baths, Papi. You think I don't know how to smoke?" He turned and took a fourth hit. A started absently stroking his back. I could feel the gooseflesh rise. After his fifth toke, he turned toward me, and I could see that his eyes were dilated and glassy. But he was still defiant. "You like my boyflesh?" he asked arrogantly. "Yeah," I responded. He turned and hit it again. I stroked lower. He hit it again. I moved my hand into his tunic feeling for his hole. He lifted up, and looked back at me. His eyes were all-pupil, and he smiled lazily, sexily. "You got good stuff, Papi," he said. "Might make me lose control if I keep going." My finger found his hole, and he gasped. "Too late," I said as I found a hole that was already lubed -whether from a prior fuck or just preparation, I could't tell - or care. My finger slipped in all the way as he turned and lit it again. He rocked on my finger as he drew from the pipe. A weak cloud this time, and he turned around, his eyes completely glazed over and a crooked smile on his face. "Looks like we're empty, daddy," he said. I shivered. "Daddy...." It turned me on lime nothing else. I reached over, fished a baggie out of my pants and tossed it to him. "Wow," he said. "Must be a teen in here. We're gonna have some fun, papi." I shoved two fingers in his hole. "Call me daddy, boy," I said. His eyes rolled i to his head and he repeated in pa whisper, "Yes, daddy." I finger fucked that hole until he was on the edge, riding my hand like a cock. Then I pulled out, grabbed the pipe and loaded it with at least a half. His eyes widened as I lit the torch, heated the bowl and drew the longest, hardest and steadiest as I could. When my lungs were full, I grabbed his neck and blew the smoke into him, hard and fast. He took it all like a pro, and blew a could that anyone would be impressed by. I could tell his head was swimming. He looked dreamy for a second, then went for my towel. I laud back and felt his hands lift my heavy cock. "Yeah, Daddy," he said. "I'm gonna make you cum so hard."

I was recently in Phoenix to attend a conference on mortgages. I didn't plan on running a bank for a career, but all the pieces fell into place, and before I knew it, I had risen to the top of my profession. I spend half my life moving around the country attending conferences, checking on branches, doing television, speaking to Congress, and teaching courses on mortgages. Mortgages! Dry, boring, dull. And the industry's workers are very much like pharmaceutical salespeople - ex-jocks and cheerleaders who either didn't think beyond the football field and never gave college a thought, or weren't bright enough to get in. They all eventually discovered that working at Joe's Bar wasn't exactly the wisest career choice, and into the professions that didn't require preparation - pharm sales, mortgages, Realtors, or insurance - had 2.2 children, gained an extra forty, and leased a Toyota. So I spend my half of my time surrounded by loudmouthed conservatives stuck in the Glory Days of Youth. The other half? Well, everyone needs balance, right? So I seek out the bathhouses, bookstores, backrooms, cruise bars, and clubs where men meet to let their inhibitions go and do what real men do best - fuck, beed, and seed, usually with the help of some chemical substances, whether the Miracle Drug viagra, or the party chems of the day. There's not much I haven't done - I have scoped out the corners of a bathhouse in Columbus Ohio and found myself tied to the cross, ready for load after load. I've been to the sister club in Indy at 4:30 AM, tweaking with a 22 year old hustler who was too nice (or too wasted) to tell me he that he was a rentb-y. I knew, and I knew that he wouldn't be asking for rent whenI was done with him. New Orleans, for all its famed decadence, was shockingly lacking in sleaze, that is until I discovered the upstairs area of a leather bar, where a long ledge against the back wall was just the right height to lay on your back, raise your legs, and take a line of cocks all night long. Los Angeles, in the sling at the Slammer. Steamworks in Chicago, the Follies in D.C., every streetcorner in Lauderdale, a hot cruise park in Louisville, a bookstore in Houston, a truck stop in Kansas City. I have encyclopedia of NSA hookup spots across the country. Craigslist? Too easy. Grindr? Too much emai. Ad or Barebk? Great in an emergency, but with a little planning, there is always plenty of ass. Neg ass, ready for pozzing. So there I was in Phoenix. Having read about the Chute for years, I was anxious to finally give it a try. It showed incredible promise right from the start. As I walked in and scanned the prices, I saw a young, tiny, Hispanic twink behind the counter. He was wearing a low-cut wrestler's tunic, dark blue, that hugged a tight little bubble ass. Around the front, I could clearly see the outline of his flaccid cock. As he saw me, he rolled his eyes, and spoke in Spanish to his co-workers. "Another desperate leather daddy looking to queen it up for a day," he said as he rolled his eyes. I responded to him in perfect Spanish, "Son, that's no way to treat a paying customer, and you'll remember that when I am slamming into your ass later tonight." I threw a hundred dollar bill into the bowl and shoved it through the window so hard that it bounced off his shoulder and clanged down onto the floor. "Pick it up, Puta, and give me my towel and keys." He looked stunned for a moment, then the left side of his mouth curled up slightly. He was trying not to show it, but I had found his button - quickly, instinctively. But really, they are all alike. Whether they take the form of the uppity east side twink in NYC who thinks he's too good for anyone, the Lauderdale slut twinks who will do anyone, the California sin-kissed twinks who claim to be laidback but are desperate for their next tweak, or the twink hustlers who seem to be behind the counter at every bathhouse in America. They all just need a firm hand, and they snap into gear like the little boys they are, eager to please their daddy. Yeah, they're easy. I know, because I used to be one of them. He picked up a towel and a key. "You can't afford me," he said with a sneer. I thought to myself, "Well, there goes your tip, you little shit." But I said in Spanish, under my breath, a threatening whisper: "I know what you need, boy. You're like all the others - arrogant little nellies who think they're so desirable that the world will fall at their feet. But you want me. You need me, and I know it. I can see it, smell it. So later tonight, when you're about to get off work and you're thinking about looking for me in room ..... " I glanced at my key, "Room 245, you think about what it is you really want from me. Think about how you need it. And think about what you could possibly say that would convince me to give it to you." He laughed and said over his shoulder, "Muscle daddy thinks I want his cock!" He and his buddies cracked up, laughing a little too loud and a little too long. "No," I said, "You want my poz cum." That shut them up. Twinkboy's expression changed from contempt to shock to surprise, to lust. I could almost hear him thinking, "Oh shit, he knows. How am I going to avoid this one?" "Buzz me in," I said with contempt. The door made the universal buzzing sound, I pulled and entered to a blast of disco without looking back. But I knew he was watching, following me with his eyes. I got about fifteen steps when I heard him say something, and he and his buddies went back to laughing. I knew I'd see him later, and he would have very different attitude.

Time was the best healer for me, but therapy is a critical element. It gets better, trust me!

Hoping this one continues, even with a different author!

His face was looming closer and closer as I felt his enormous piece of meat nudging at my hole. It might have been whatever was in that syringe, or it might have been how hot I was for this huge, dangerous man, but all I could see were his two eyes almost floating above me, giant black pools of liquid that seemed to have no bottom. "Yeah, you're fucked now," I heard from a distance. It echoed a few times in my head. I felt myself rolling a bit, kind of like when you're on a raft out in the ocean. Suddenly a little nauseous, I closed my eyes to try to gather myself, but that just increased all of the sensations I was feeling, both good and not-so-good. I had that delicious free floating feeling, while at the same time I also felt like I was about to vomit. I felt my eyes rolling as I tried to get a grip when suddenly I felt my hole expand involuntarily. He felt it too, and he shoved a few inches of his meat inside me. I was surprised that there was no pain - I guess the speedball was taking care of that. Instinctively, I lifted my legs, wrapped them as far around him as they would go, and then dug in. I literally fucked my ass onto the rest of his cock, swallowing it all with my ass in one swift motion. Again, no pain at all, just sensation of skin-on-skin, of his cock sliding deeper into me. I could feel every vein, every crease of my ass, bump and nuance of his cock as I quickly slid down on it all the way to the root. In my high, I could actually visualize what it looked like as the head of his cock split me open and buried deeper in me than anyone, or anything, had ever been. As I hit the base with my ass, those floating eyes looked surprised for a second, then rolled up into his head as he let out a long moan. "Yessssssss, baby, that's it. Take that cock all the way. Show me how bad you want it. You a natural baby. We gonna turn you out good." I tried to ask him what that meant but I was still unable to manage anything other than a garble of sounds. "You feeling it, aren't you?" he said. Again, it was not a question. "Yeah, I got you. You gonna get used to this real quick, and so am I." With that, he started to withdraw his cock - a process that seemed to last for fifteen minutes, though in real-time it might have must been two or three seconds. He then spit on his hand, rubbed it on his dick, and then slowly slide back into me. This time, it seemed smoother, no veins or bumps. He repeated that process five or six times - I lost count in the growing euphoria - and on each downstroke, I would shiver as his cock bumped into and ran along my prostrate. Then he got to work. All at once, he pulled out completely, and then shoved the entire length back into me. This time, I felt it. Not enough heroin on the planet could have dulled that pain. My legs shot out straight, every muscle straining, but I was only able to yelp weakly. My ability to speak was still caught in the swirling vortex of the drugs, and I could see the words I wanted to say swirling around over my head. I tried to grab them, but they stayed out of reach. Then, most blinding pain as he yanked it out and whipped it back in with even greater force. On the third stroke, pulled out, grabbed a handful of Crisco ("When did he get that?" I weakly thought, "And why didn't I see it swirling around up there with all my words?") and rubbed it all over his cock, then shoved it back in again. This time, other than he stabbing sensation of his length, there was no pain - only intense pleasure as he massaged my prostrate on his trip to my center. He held his cock in me and leaned down again, my legs once again instinctively wrapping around him. His mouth leaned down to mine, and I felt his warm lips touch mine. His breath was surprisingly sweet, and the feel of his tongue as it entered my mouth was velvety smooth. I sucked on his tongue like it was a cock, and he fucked my mouth with it. It was then that I noticed that his hips were moving again, now in perfect rhythm with the tongue that was moving in and out of my mouth. That amazing floating feeling of perfection had returned, and I finally started enjoying that rolling sensation. I was able to envision every cell of my body, each and every one being filled on an assembly line with exquisite pleasure - the sensation of being fucked properly for the first time - and then returned to my body with a tingle of joy. My hips started moving to meet his thrusts. I wanted - no, needed - that cock in me as deep as it would go. On each downstroke, I wiggled my ass to try to get a few extra centimeters in me, and then as he withdrew, I concentrated on relaxing every muscle in my ass to make for a smooth, easy withdrawal. Then he would press back in again, and the friction from his invading cock became the center of the universe until he hit bottom. Then my wiggle and his gasp. Faster and faster it went, his tempo increasing, and my hips bouncing up off the bed to rise up and meet him. He was pounding me now, but I was pounding him back - my heels digging into him every bit as much as his cock was digging into me. All I could focus on was the need to feel him inside me, as deep as possible. I felt him biting into my shoulder, then licking my neck, then his tongue all over my ear, then gripping my head and holding it while he shoved his tongue in my mouth - all during the time that we were fucking each other, hard. I needed him deeper, and deeper, and never felt so full and fulfilled as when he hit bottom. On each downstroke, that instinctive wiggle I gave caused him to shudder just a little. He was fucking harder and harder, and I was taking every thrust like a cheap bathhouse whore. Then he buried his face in my neck, sped up even more, started moaning, "Oooh, baby, ooooh baby, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah....." Even as inexperienced as I was, I knew what that meant. His hips kept moving faster and faster, sending me into the stratosphere, and then he gave one last thrust inward and held it. At that second, I finally managed to lock my ankles together and wiggled the last inch of his cock into me even further, and that did it. He let out a long groan, and I could feel his cock jetting his cum into me, spurt after heavy spurt. He kept moaning, "Yeah....yeah...." with each spurt, his baritone voice low and tickling every inch of me. It seemed to go on for hours, but I know it could not have been that long. Still, I counted at least fourteen pumps from his balls into my guts before he finally let out a long breath. He laid on top of me for an unnaturally long period of time. He was absently licking my neck or rubbing my sides, and then the most amazing thing happened - I felt his hips move again, felt his cock withdraw, and then felt him slowly spear back into me. He had not gone soft and fallen out of me like I expected. Instead, he was embarking on a second fuck, just minutes after filling me with his seed. I let out a long moan, and involuntarily burst loose with my own orgasm on his third stroke. I shook against him as he held his cock deep inside me, moving it back and forth only by a few inches, "Yeah, baby. Cum on my dick. That's it. Show me how much you love it. Keep cumming! Yeah! Shoot! Shoot! Shoot!" Every time he said it, I would cry out and another volley of cum would rise out of the depth of my soul, shoot through my balls at lightning speed, and get ejected from the tip of my cock, bathing us both in buckets of my cum. I never came so much or so hard in my life, my head uncontrollably moving back and forth and the most animalistic noises coming from my throat. Was I really making those sounds? We fucked our way to another climax for each of us, this one for me being far less intense but still incredible. As the last bit of my cum splattered onto his chest, he move down again, those huge black eyes once again filling my vision, and he rubbed our bodies together, using my cum as a lubricant. He gave me a tender kiss or two, and then just laid on top of me. My legs finally unhooked from around him, fell to our sides, and we both drifted off to sleep. I have no idea how long we slept, but we were both awakened by a bright bolt of light coming from the outside door as it burst open. I heard a young, female voice saying "Daddy, Momma sent me over to get my....." I craned my head to see a coltish girl, maybe my age or younger, standing in the front doorway. Her jaw nearly dropped to the floor as she stopped mid-sentence. The man on top of me was still snoring heavily as I tried to get out from underneath him, panicked and no longer able to breathe because of his heavy weight on top of me. But I couldn't get him off me and he was not waking up nearly quickly enough!

Earlier tonight, at work. I am the top executive at a $1.5 billion company, and my office has a private shower and bathroom. I work late most nights, frequently until after the cleaning crew leaves. They are all really nice guys, and we usually talk a little when they come in to take the trash, polish the furniture and stock my fridge. One of the is a top fb. Glenn is about 10 years older than me, so he is pushing 60. He is tall, very dark,and still in great shape. And his cock is huge ... Close to 10 very thick inches. About a year ago, Glenn was still calling me "Mr. ____." H was stocking the fridge when I remembered that I had left a new bottle of poppers in there from my trip to the ABS at lunch. I looked up and told him not to worry about the Diet Cokes tonight. He was in the middle of saying that he was almost done when he noticed the poppers. He picked the up and said, "Iron Horse. That's strong stuff." He put it back, closed the fridge and started going about his business as if nothing happened. I was pretty curious about his reaction. It was almost like he found a Milky Way bar - totally nonplussed. After a few minutes, I was so distracted - and turned on - that I went to the private bathroom to whack one out. I took my phone, which was stocked with all kinds of gay porn - from some very taboo to mild to wild, interracial pnp clips....and some of those were me getting wild and getting fucked. As I opened the door to the bathroom I saw Glenn leaning against the wall, rubbing his cock through his uniform. He smiled and unzipped his overalls from the neck down. It revealed a remarkable chiseled chest for an older guy, a small belly, and the n a huge, hard BBC. I went straight to my knees and sucked it in. I can throat any cock, and although this one was big, it went all the way down on the first swallow. I throat-fucked him and after just a few minutes, I felt his cock get iron hard. He held my head, shoved down my throat and fucked my face, hard, f a few seconds as he continued to cum. When hemwas done, hemsmiled and thanked me politely. I got up and went back,to my office. Tomight, Glenn came in and gave me the all-clear sign. We met back in the bathroom, which was now equipped with a comfortable chair and a tv with dvd. He popped in an interracial bi dvd - interracial for both of us, and bi form him. See, Glenn is a straight married buy who loves to fuck white guys. So as he was watching the video, he was behind me, fucking away. Right when the black top busted in the girl's cunt, Glenn shot in mine, he didn't hold deep,for long - never does - but he kept fucking thru the orgasm, making my ass a sloppy mess. We made small talk while we both dressed. I got back to my office, picked up my keys and decided to head tot he bookstore where I would meet a young white guy with some Tina, a black guy with rock, and take 6 more loads before calling it a night. And now I am home at 2:30 AM and I am writing all, about a great Friday!

I love The Slammer in L.A. The guys who like to fuck all pack up in the 2 dark rooms in the back, and so it is wall to wall man. Usually only 2 or 3 guys are bottoming, and so i crawl up on a platform, throw my legs in the air, and end up getting stuffed with lad after load for hours. I have taken as many as 32 loads in one sitting. My ass was mega sore, and raw, so I probably gifted a top or two.....awesome!

(This is actually a true story. It was 1983, and I was an introverted, sky, skinny kid from the East End of Louisville, the 'burbs back then. I was deeply closeted and naive, and ready to be taken advantage of. This incident began a 10 month journey into sex and hard drugs that ended with me, a gay kid from the burbs, learning how to take cock, deep throat and yes, fuck pussy to the point where I got a black junkie pregnant. It was the best summer of my life, and brought me a wonderful daughter that I never thou a guy like me could ever have.) --------------------------------------------- I was barely nineteen and had been fucked only once, by a white guy who was 30. I met him in at Blue Movies in downtown Louisville, and we went back to his place, smoked a J and he topped me. He was so small i didn't even know he had cum until he went soft. So this is what I had fantasized about ever since I saw Freddie Mercury eating grapes on the back cover of the first Queen album? It wasn't anything like I had read in "First Hand" or "Inches," my favorite wack-mags. I was sorely disappointed and wondered if I was straight after all. A few weeks later I was back in the bookstore looking to do it again, and hopefully have a better experience. I had tried dating girls over the past few weeks, which made my dad very,very happy. He loaned me his sports car, gave me a wad of cash and beamed as I drove off, conflicted. A few dates, and I could not bring myself to even kiss one of them. Was I just shy, or really a fag? I didn't know. But I knew I was horny and that is what took me to the bookstore that night. In the arcade section, I saw a big black daddy, maybe 6-2 and in good shape. He must have been pushing fifty, and I was instantly attracted to this dangerous-looking giant man. I grew up in a typical upper-middle class family, went to St. X high school, and hid the fact that I was a fag from everyone except the guys who sucked me off at the bookstores. Looking back, i know my parents knew. But what made them think that talking about how "sick" it was to be gay would somehow turn me straight, instead of just make me feel unworthy and unloved and alone? He was standing outside a booth rubbing his cock through his checked polyester pants. I could just stare. He kept rubbing, and I could see his cock grow even bigger. I was mesmerized and walked toward him. I planned to go into the booth, leave the door unlocked, and wait for him to come in. Then I was going to suck my first dick. I had it all panned, but as I went to open the door, he grabbed my hand and looked down at me and said, "You think you can handle this, boy?" I said,"I don't know. I've only been fucked once." His eyes bugged a little and he said, "I live down the street, let's go." I followed him outside and walked about 12 blocks without either of us saying a word. I was getting scared. "I thought you said you lived down the street." He stopped and put his hand on my ass. "We're walking down the street, aint we?" He said, rubbing my ass and turning me on. Here I was a skinny 19 year old white kid from a good home, getting felt up at 10PM on a public street in downtown Louisville. He nodded toward the projects. "Just over there," he said. I followed him to the entrance to his place, and walked up three steps to his front door. He opened the door and we went inside. He closed the door and locked it. Now I was really scared, and my dick shrunk quickly. I looked around. The inside was one room, with a small kitchen, and a door to what was probably a bathroom. I looked at everything, planning a way to escape. It was remarkably clean, and empty except for a tv, a mattress, a lamp, and some boxes in the corner. At this point, i was scared shitless and started to try to talk my way out of it. He came over and grabbed my ass, hard. "You're not going anywhere, baby. And you're going to love this. Get them clothes off." He released my ass and I just stood there, panicked. He walked a few steps, stopped, and with his back to me, slowly, sexily, pulled his t-shirt over his head. Oh. My. God. The sexiest, darkest back I had ever seen. My cock started hardening again. He twirled his t-shirt slowly, almost like a stripper and turned around and revealed a nice, but not chiseled chest, with a few tattoos and long, dark nipples. I stared at those long nipples, and as I was standing there in a daze, he unbuttoned his pants, unzipped, and they dropped to the floor. No underwear, just a huge cock, hanging there half hard. He turned back toward the boxes again, but stopped and turned to look at me, and as he was staring at me, his cock started getting harder and harder until it was huge and standing straight out, "See how hard you got me?" He said. "So are you gonna get naked now?" It wasn't a question. I pulled my Polo t-shirt off and kicked off my topsiders. He smiled, turned and started rummaging through a shoebox. I took off the rest of my clothes and stood there, cock hard as a rock. He turned around and had a syringe, a little foil, a lighter, a spoon, and a little baggie. "You're gonna love this shit," he said. I had only smoked weed, and just that one time. But my dick was thinking for me, and I stood there and held out my arm as he tied a shoelace around my arm. He said, "Sit down or you are gonna fall down." I sat on the mattress and he busied himself with his spoon. He after a few minutes, he put the syringe into the spoon and pulled the plunger. There was a cloudy liquid in the chamber. I held out my arm, and watched him inject me. I felt a little woozy at first, but when he took the shoelace off, the entire room suddenly started spinning and I felt the most beautiful, peaceful feeling was over me. Every muscle in my body relaxed, and I swore that I could feel my soul moving around inside my body. I even felt the space between my ribs, felt them expand and contract as I breathed. "Wow," was all I could say. "wow." "You gonna learn to love my speedballs, boy, and come back for them all the time." "Whaaa," I slurred. Why can't I talk, I thought. "Yeah," he said as he moved even closer to me. "You're fucked now." I felt him pushing me backwards on the bed and pulling my legs apart. I had no muscle control. i felt completely asleep - heavy muscles, no feeling at all, anywhere, but also feeling everything at a deeper level than ever before. I saw his cock pointing at my hole, and I just moaned,"Fuuuuuck meeeee" as his face inched closer and closer to mine until it completely filled my entire line of vision.....

Bottom slut in Louisville is looking for chemsex with fans of the designers - I am loaded with G ans T, and want to fins some with E and H. Let's make an alphabet soup!