ljypeels

Soo hot!!

I agree. a6uldeve84u is one of the only writers I've ever encountered (and trust me, I've encountered a LOT of erotic writers) whose interracial stories not only always make me cum, they get me turn off the computer and find my very own beautiful black stud to fuck me into submission.

Part 4. The Real Men They were all in military fatigues. I counted five men in total, each one bigger and taller than the last. The final two actually had to duck when entering the room to avoid hitting their heads. After letting them in, my brother walked back to the bed and yanked Antoine off. "You say you wanna get fucked by men," he sneered. "Then what the fuck are you doing with little boycunts like this?" Jack pointed to the 5 enormous black men standing behind him. "See these giant motherfuckers here?" he said. "Now these are what I call "real men"; they're the biggest, meanest motherfucking drill instructors the Marine Corps has ever seen. For as long as I've known them, they've been culling the herd by turning out weak whiteboy recruits and pimping them out to ex-con gangbangers who wanna relive the thrill of raping skinheads in prison." "And if they can do that to Marine recruits," he continued, "just imagine what they can do to you." Jack turned to the smallest one in the group. "You take first round, bro," he said, "you know the drill." The man nodded and took off his fatigues. Even as the smallest in the group, this guy was still huge--probably 6'5" or so and over 250 pounds. He was also one of the hairiest black men I'd ever seen. A jet-black thicket of hair covered every inch of his body except his head, which he had shaved bald. His cock matched the rest of his body--huge, hairy, and uncut. The Marine walked over, and without a word, forced my mouth open and shoved in the head of his hardening cock. Even half-hard, his cock was too thick for my mouth. When he tried to push it in more, I felt a searing pain in the corners of my mouth as the skin began to tear. I grunted out in pain, and I heard Jack say, "Hey buddy, why don't we give his mouth a rest? He's drugged up and feeling no pain right now, but his face did get a pretty nasty beatdown earlier." My Marine fucker just shrugged and moved to the foot of the bed. He rummaged through his fatigues, pulled out a dirty rag, sprayed something into the rag, and threw it at my face. "If you know what's good for you," was all he said. The rag was disgusting, covered with reddish-brown stains, presumably from the torn, leaking asses of virgin USMC recruits. There was also an elastic band attached to either side of the rag, like you see on masks, so it was easy to figure out what I was supposed to do. I took a deep breath and put the rag on like a mask. The smell was awful at first, but after a few seconds I began to feel a warm, tingling sensation that started spreading and relaxing every part of my body, including my boy pussy. Without meaning to, I let out a soft moan of pleasure. One of the Marines laughed and said, "oh yeah, baby, this little boycunt's ready now." Two mitt-like hands grabbed my feet and yanked them up, exposing my asshole. I then felt something impossibly thick and blunt brush up against my asshole. Even after two days of being gangbanged by Antoine and his crew, I knew that I wasn't ready for this monster trying to push its way into my pussy, but the pressure against my anus kept growing and growing until my boyhole finally gave in. It was the most excruciating, white-hot pain I'd ever felt in my life. I tried to run away, but between the nylon restraints, the paralyzing spray, and the fucker's vice-like grip on my feet, all I could do was scream into the rag like a helpless little girl as he shoved the entire length of his horsecock up my ass, shredding his way through my insides until I felt his balls resting against my boycunt. The other Marines seemed to get excited by the sound of my screams, and began hooting and hollering "oorah!" Spurred on by the others, my fucker immediately began pounding into my hole like a jackhammer, not giving me any time to get used to his cock. Over the next 5 minutes, the Marine kept on increasing the speed and force of his strokes, eventually building up to an unbelievably frenzied pace that simply destroyed my boycunt. These Marines seemed to enjoy keeping me in a constant state of agony, and hearing my screams get louder and louder. But then, just as suddenly as it had started, the violent fucking went away. I remember hearing a noise (like a bell ringing) followed by one of the Marines shouting something, at which point the pummeling just stopped, the Marine pulled out his cock, and let go of my feet. With the rag still over my face, I couldn't tell exactly what was going on, but after the first Marine moved aside, I felt another Marine quickly taking his place between my legs. "Ready?"asked the new Marine as he grabbed my feet and pulled me back up to position. "Wait, wait, please" I whimpered, "wait; can't we just take a break for 5 minutes, please?" At that, all of the Marines started laughing. "Yo Jack," I heard one of the Marines say to my brother, "didn't you tell your little bro how this works?" I heard another Marine say, "It's a competition, you dirty bimbo. You don't get a break until one of us comes." I still didn't understand what they were saying. Confused, and desperate to delay the next assault on my pussy for as long as possible, I asked, "what do you mean? What kind of competition?" "We're being timed, you stupid slut," said the first Marine, still out of breath. "We each take turns fucking you for 5 minutes," he continued, "and the first one to cum inside your nasty little ass wins." It took a second or two to sink in. "So... you're going to keep fucking me like this until someone comes inside me in less than 5 minutes?" I asked. "That's right," said the Marine on deck, "and we'll keep fucking you like this, for however long it takes, until you understand that for a boypussy like you, the only thing that matters is serving the real men of the world, offering your cunt to any man who wants it, and giving pleasure to any man who claims you." "Now shut the fuck up, little boy" he continued, "and enjoy the next 5 minutes." To be continued.

It's my first attempt at writing sex stories, so a big thanks to everyone who posted replies or liked this. I'm going to try to take the boy (Allen) on a rape & gangbang tour from SF to Baltimore to Libya to Egypt. Wish me luck!

Part 3. My Brother's Wrath That weekend, I just let myself enjoy the wild ride that Antoine and his crew were giving me. They kept alternating slams of Tina with doses of GHB and ketamine, and I kept passing in and out of consciousness, waking up one minute to the excruciatingly pleasurable feeling of the Masters double-penetrating me, falling asleep the next to the sensation of Antoine slapping my ass as he fucked me from behind, then waking up again with a blindfold over my face as I was getting pounded by one of Antoine's many lieutenants, and so on. Antoine wouldn't let me see any of his lieutenants' faces, or tell me how many of his crew had fucked me over the weekend, because he wanted me to remember that he could always get to me--anywhere, anytime. "If you tell anyone about what we did this weekend, baby," he whispered in my ear one night, "I'll know; and when you're least expecting it, I'll have one of my boys come up behind you, knock you out, and rip your asshole open with a knife and leave you bleeding to death." His tone, so serious but matter-of-fact, made me shiver--although I have to admit, it also made my puny little boy cock harder than it's ever been. Late on Sunday night, after nearly 48 continuous hours of partying and fucking, I finally found my way back to Jack's house. I was exhausted, but strangely calm and contented in a way that only a whiteboy whose cunt has been repeatedly owned and used by a black master can understand. I could feel the last few gifts of cum from Antoine's crew leaking out of my ass as I walked up to the front door. The entire house was pitch black. Figuring my brother had already gone to bed, I quietly made my way up the stairs and tiptoed past my brother's bedroom to my room. But just as I was thinking, "I'm safe," I tripped over something in the dark and landed on the floor with a loud thud. "Oof!" I groaned from the shock and pain. I heard a soft click, and the lights came on. Still lying on the ground, I looked up--and there, sitting on my bed in nothing but his underwear, was my eldest brother Jack. For a split second, neither of us said anything. But as I started pushing myself off the ground, Jack spoke. "Stay down, boy," he said in his deep, commanding voice, "stay down on the ground, where you belong." And for some reason, even though I had been disobeying and disrespecting Jack ever since I moved in with him, this time I did what I was told. I stayed on the ground, face down, and waited to see what he would do next. I heard the bedsprings groan as his hulking, 6'4", 260-pound body got off the bed. He came and stood over me, his enormous size-16 feet on either side of my head, his massive frame casting the room in shadow. "What the fuck is this?" I heard him say as he reached over and ran his hand over the back of my pants, still damp and reeking of ni#%a cum. I didn't know what to say. Then I heard him sniff his hand. "Is this what I fucking think it is?!?" he shouted, in a booming voice so loud I worried that he might wake our neighbors. He grabbed the back of my shirt and yanked me up in one swift motion, as if I weighed nothing. I was standing up now, face-to-face (or more like face-to-chest) with Jack, and what I saw frightened me--bright red face, teeth bared, and seething with anger, the veins in his neck and temples pulsing with hot fiery Mediterranean blood. And I could smell him, standing so close to me in nothing but his underwear--his hairy, muscular body radiated a powerful, musky scent that filled my nostrils. I suddenly felt weak and a bit dizzy. He pulled me closer, until his face was just inches away from mine. "What the fuck have you been doing, you little shit?!" he barked, "is this what you are now? A faggot whore leaking men's cum outta his ass? Is this what you want, huh? Is this what you want?!" And at that moment, for some reason I still can't explain, I did the unthinkable. Whether it was because Antoine had just shown me how good it feels to submit to another man, or because Jack's masculine scent, which I'd never experienced before, was overpowering my senses, I replied, "Yes, Jack, that's exactly what I want." What happened next is kind of a blur. After Jack punched me in the head, all I can remember is a series of disjointed images and sounds--of Jack yelling, of me crying and begging him to stop, of tears streaming down Jack's face, of white flashes of pain as he landed blow after blow. Thankfully, mercifully, I eventually passed out. --- When I regained consciousness, the first thing I noticed was that the pain was gone. I could remember the beating I'd gotten from my brother, and I couldn't help but wonder why I wasn't feeling any pain. In fact, I felt pretty good. I opened my eyes, and what I saw confused me even more. Antoine was sitting on top of me, with a leather strap and a syringe in his hands, and a weird expression on his face--one that I'd never seen before. As my eyes adjusted to the light, I took another look at his face, and I realized that the expression I was seeing was one of fear--of pure, unadulterated fear. I turned my head and looked around the room, trying to figure out what was going on. I was lying on my own bed, in my own bedroom, and all the lights were on. I then noticed, for the first time, the black nylon rope tied around my wrists and ankles, and also tied around Antoine's neck and wrists. And finally, in the corner, I saw the giant--a muscular, hairy hulk of a man, sitting on my chair completely naked, with an enormous, almost savage-looking hard-on, and wearing a black ski mask. It took me a few seconds to realize that this giant of a man was my brother Jack. "So this is what you were up to all weekend," he said in a disgusted tone, "letting some ni#%a shoot you full of drugs and rape you over and over again." He stood up. I could now see that he was holding a large butcher's knife. He walked over to the bed and grabbed the top of Antoine's head with one impossibly large hand and brought the knife up to Antoine's throat with the other. "And this worthless little shit was more than happy to supply all the drugs and ni#%a cock that you wanted," he said as Antoine's body started shaking above me, and tears welled up in his eyes. "Well, if that's what you want, little bro, then that's exactly what you're going to get," he said. "Anyone could see that Mom and Pops were spoiling you in their old age, always letting you get away with murder," he continued, "but back when we were growing up, they didn't tolerate any bullshit from the kids. Pops, especially. And when he caught me smoking a cigarette in seventh grade, he dragged my sorry ass to the kitchen table and made me smoke an entire carton of cigarettes, and even when I was puking my guts out and begging him to stop, he kept lighting one right after another, for almost the entire day, until I had finished the whole carton." Jack laughed. "And that's exactly how I'm going to teach you, little brother, how not to become a faggot." He turned and walked toward the bedroom door. "If it's big black men that you want," he said, "then that's what you're going to get." "And by men, I mean real men," he said, "not this prepubescent little street kid you let fuck you." He turned around, and with a dramatic flourish, he opened the door. Even in my drugged, hazy state of mind, when I saw the size of the men walking through my bedroom door, I immediately knew that I was in trouble. Antoine and his crew were big, yes, but these men were in another class altogether. If Antoine's crew had been a college basketball team, then this was the NBA. The NBA All-Stars. And I was going to get raped by all of them. To be continued.

Part 2. "Yeah, baby?" Antoine teased, "you wanna get raped, is that it? You want your sweet little boypussy gangraped by ni#$a cocks?" He swatted my fingers out of my asshole and shoved his entire 12-inch cock up my chute in one monstrous stroke. I screamed out in pain, but Antoine just covered my mouth with his mitt-sized hands and shouted, "Shut the fuck up, you filthy little whore! This is what you were begging for, so this is what you're going to get!" I knew that struggling would only make the pain worse, but I couldn't help it. It felt like Antoine was shoving a red hot poker up my ass, and I vainly tried to pull away, twisting and turning under his massive body. Worse, his hands were so big they covered my nose as well, making it almost impossible to breathe. "Stop!" I tried to yell, "I can't breathe!" but Antoine's enormous hands muffled my screams. With each breath, less and less air were reaching my lungs. The room began turning dark, and I started to panic, knowing that I was about to pass out. But then, the pain suddenly started to go away. Not only the pain, but the fear and the panic--everything started melting away, overpowered by the unbelievably warm, nerve-tingling sensation in my ass, which was getting stronger and stronger with every stroke of Antoine's cock. I could now feel every inch of his monster as it thrust in and out of my hole, and the sensation was more intense and pleasurable than I can describe. And with that, my body finally relaxed, I closed my eyes, and I stopped struggling. My screams died down and turned to moans of pleasure. I started thrusting my ass backwards to meet Antoine's strokes, welcoming him deeper into my body. He responded by releasing his hands and fucking me even harder, each brutal thrust hitting my windpipe and causing me to grunt. "There you go, little piggy, grunt for me!" he shouted, pulling the sock out of my mouth, "now that's what I'm talking about!" He started pummeling into me like a jackrabbit, pounding my ass with so much speed and power that pretty soon all I could hear was the sound of his balls slapping against my asscheeks. His eyes rolled back in his head, the veins in his neck started bulging, and his moans grew louder and louder--until he thrust into my ass with so much force that it knocked the wind out of me, lifted his head and roared like a wild animal. I could feel his engorged cock grow even bigger inside my ass, as he pumped load after load of ni#%a cum up my hole. "You're a nasty worthless little cunt!" he said as he was catching his breath, "but damn that's one hot fucking ass!" When he pulled his cock out, his warm, sticky cum started leaking out of my battered hole. Instinctively I reached down and scooped it up with my fingers and tasted it. Antoine laughed. "You like how I taste, baby?" he asked. "Yes, sir," I replied, and I meant it; his cum tasted like him--strong, powerful, and a bit dirty. When I started to lower my legs, his arms shot out and gripped my ankles. "What the fuck do you think you're doing?" he said, "we're just getting started!" He turned to Omar, and said, "come and get it ni#%a, these holes now all open for business!" --- To be continued ---

Part 1. As I slowly regained consciousness, the first thing I felt was pain--excruciating pain, deep in my stomach and my asshole--that shot through my body in waves. Next came the ripe, musky smell of sweat, followed by the sounds of men having sex. I opened my eyes. Everything around me was dark and blurry, but I could make out a huge shadowy figure looming over me. I instinctively knew that everything I was feeling--the pain, the smells, the sounds--was coming from this enormous man, and I realized that I was being raped. I tried to scream, but my mouth wouldn't open. I tried to push him away, but I couldn't move my arms and legs. I realized then that I was paralyzed. The only part of my body I could control were my eyes. All I could do was watch in horror as this brutal beast tore apart my insides with every stroke of his burning hot cock. "Aha!" he suddenly snarled, noticing my eyes were open. His face then took on a frightening cruelty and viciousness, and he punched me in the stomach, knocking the wind out of me and causing my anal sphincter to tighten around his cock. He started thrusting into me even harder, shouting at me in a coarse, guttural language I didn't understand. And then, as if out of nowhere, I heard a familiar voice. "He's calling you a dirty whore... a worthless faggot," the voice hissed, "He says he's ripping you open... and when he's done... no one will ever want you... you filthy cunt!" I knew that voice. I tried in vain to turn my head, to see where it was coming from. "Don't bother trying to move, Allen," the hate-filled voice continued, "We've pumped you so full of drugs you won't be able to move for at least another hour, while Ibrahim the Beast here rips your asshole to pieces." "And you're going to love every minute of it, you nasty little cunt" hissed Will's voice, "aren't you, little brother?" --- Six months earlier --- I was born and raised in San Francisco as the fourth, unplanned child of ex-hippies, who were almost 50 by the time I was born. My parents called me their "miracle baby," and pampered me so much that by the time I turned 16, everyone called me "Her Highness" behind my back. It didn't help that even as a junior in high school, I still looked like a girl: 5'5", 120lbs, blond curly hair, and soft, nearly hairless ivory-white skin. Everyone but my parents thought I was a spoiled, whiny little princess, but I never got teased or bullied growing up because they all respected and feared my older brothers--Jack, Neal and Will--who were already in their late 20s by the time I was born. Like so many children of liberal baby-boomers, my brothers rebelled by becoming conservative. Against our parents' wishes, they joined the Catholic Church, played high school football, registered as Republicans and, when the First Gulf War broke out in 1990, enlisted in the U.S. Army. They came back from their tours in Kuwait as tough, hardened men who rarely ever smiled. Jack, the eldest, became a math teacher and football coach at our high school. Jack was the only brother to get married, but his 4-year, childless marriage to a fellow schoolteacher ended in divorce when I was about 2 years old. Neal, the second oldest, joined the San Francisco Police Department and quickly rose through the ranks to become captain. Neal had plenty of live-in girlfriends over the years, but never got married. Will, the third son, initially followed Neal's footsteps into the SFPD, but later joined the FBI; after 9/11, he left the FBI for a secretive job at Homeland Security that had him constantly traveling around the world. Unlike me, my brothers were also incredible specimens of manhood. I had clearly inherited my mother's genes, with my willowy frame and pale, delicate features, but my brothers took after my father, whose ancestors were from Lebanon and Syria--they weren't tall (about 5'10") but they were all built like brick shithouses, with black, curly hair covering nearly every inch of their muscular, burly bodies, and while I'd never seen them naked, I couldn't help but notice the flashlight-sized bulges in their pants. I grew up admiring my brothers from afar. They had all left home by the time I was born, and while they dutifully protected me from the bullies at school or in the neighborhood, they otherwise kept a polite distance. That all changed about a year ago, a few months after I turned 16. Our parents, who had patiently put up with my childish, selfish behavior for so many years, were tragically killed in a car accident. Since I was still a minor, it was decided that my brothers (who were in their early 40s at the time) would act as my co-guardians until I turned 18. Since Will was still traveling a lot for work, I was to spend half the year living with Jack and the other half with Neal. While our parents' death was devastating for everyone, I took it especially hard. I decided that I didn't want to be the good little "princess" any more, and started acting out--sneaking out at night and hanging with the "street kids" in our neighborhood. Most of these kids were gay runaways who made a living on the streets hustling or selling drugs, and I found myself being drawn to the danger, the excitement, and the hot sex that their lives promised. --- Meeting Antoine --- I was especially drawn to Antoine, a tall, skinny 23-year old black guy from Houston who was the unofficial leader of the local street gang. He supplied the rest of the kids with drugs (to use or sell), escorted for a bunch of white guys who couldn't get enough of his big, black cock, and made enough money to rent his own apartment near the Castro. I first met Antoine at a sex party in his apartment. I was invited by two street kids I used to hang out (and fool around) with sometimes--Manuel, a short but muscular 20-year old Salvadoran with visible gang tattoos, and Luis, a scrawny but tough-looking 18-year old Mexican from Fresno. There were four other guys at the party when we arrived--four big, black thugs. One of them, the tallest and best-looking of the group, got up and walked over. "Hi, I'm Antoine," he said, flashing a big smile and immediately putting me at ease, "and you must be Allen. I've heard a lot about you." He was tall--almost a foot taller than me--and strong, and when he draped his arm around my shoulders and walked me over to meet the rest of the guests, I felt safe and protected for the first time since my parents had died. "That there is Omar," he said, pointing to a 30s-ish dark-skinned man sitting on the couch with his shirt off, showing off a sinewy, heavily-muscled chest. "He's a good ni#$a to know; if he likes you he'll hook you up with anything you need and everything you want." Omar leaned back on the couch, looked me up and down, and smiled. "Nothing not to like so far," he said. "And those two motherfuckers fucking around with my party supplies," Antoine said, pointing to a couple of light-skinned thugs with matching face tattoos, "don't like it when I give out out their names to white boys they don't know, so you can just call them Master X and Master Y for now." The Masters, as I later came to know them, were bent over the coffee table measuring out white crystals into small plastic bags, and didn't look up. Antoine turned to me and asked, "so Manuel and Luis tell me you like to party, yeah?" I smiled and nodded sheepishly. I'd smoked weed before, but the Latino boys had recently introduced me to molly and poppers, which I absolutely loved. The fact that Manuel and Luis had then "taken advantage" of me by spit-roasting me only made it hotter. Antoine laughed, grabbed my right hand and brought it down to his crotch, where I could feel a huge cock starting to uncoil like a snake. "Baby, look what you're doing to me already," he said. "We are gonna have some fun tonight!" Antoine then turned to Manuel and Luis and told them to give me some weed and molly, then take me into the bathroom to get ready. Half an hour later, freshly partied up, cleaned out, and hurriedly spit-roasted again by Manuel and Luis, I walked back into the living room wearing nothing but a jockstrap. The lights were turned down, and the TV was playing black-on-white porn. Antoine, Omar, and the Masters had taken off their clothes and were sitting around the coffee table blowing thick, white clouds. Antoine looked up and called us over. "Allen baby, why don't you come here and suck my dick," he said with a devilish smile, then ordered Manuel and Luis to start servicing Omar and the Masters. I walked over to Antoine, eyeing the uncut brown snake resting on his lap. As I got down on my knees, his enormous cock grew even bigger, lengthening to about 12 inches in length and about 7 inches around. As I reached out and carefully raised his cock to my mouth, a line of clear pre-cum stretched from his lap to the gorgeous reddish head peeking out of his foreskin. I leaned over, stuck out my tongue, and gingerly licked the pre-cum from the tip. Antoine shuddered, and sank deeper into the couch, closing his eyes and moaning. I slowly pulled his foreskin back and started licking the creamy cheese underneath, taking my time to savor the taste. As I started to wrap my lips around his cockhead, Antoine pulled my head back up. "Hey baby," he said, "if you're going to take all of my dick we're gonna have to get you ready." He grabbed a bong from the coffee table and started heating it in front of my mouth. Looking down at the white wisps circling the bowl, I felt unsure of what I was doing for the first time that evening. "I'm sorry," I said sheepishly, "it's just, I've never done Tina before." "Oh baby," said Antoine with his beautiful smile, "there's nothing to worry about. Nobody here is going to hurt you; this'll just make it more fun for everyone." I looked down at his cock, which was starting to wilt. "It's not that I don't trust you," I said, "it's just, I'm worried about getting addicted." "Who said anything about getting addicted?" Antoine said loudly, the first hint of a frown on his face. In an even louder voice he continued, "Baby, with me, Omar and the Masters in the room you don't have to worry about nothing! We're all here to make sure you have a great time, right?" he said, looking over at his other guests. They all looked up and nodded. Antoine turned back to me and said, "All you got to do, baby, is relax, stop thinking so much, and just do what I tell you, okay?" I nodded and took his cock back in my mouth, determined not to disappoint this big, strong, beautiful, amazing black man. As I began licking his shaft like an ice cream cone, however, out of the corner of my eye I saw several pairs of feet approaching. Everything that followed happened so quickly that I didn't have time to react. Antoine suddenly grabbed my head and pulled me off his dick while the other guests grabbed my arms and legs; Antoine then leapt to his feet and ordered the others to turn me over and hold me down. As I lay on the floor struggling to break free, I suddenly felt a sharp, unbearable pain in my balls that made me shriek out loud--but only for a second, as Antoine quickly shoved a damp, rank athletic sock in my mouth to muffle my screams. Antoine was now on top of me, one hand covering my mouth and the other gripping my balls. "Allen baby, you just gotta calm down a bit," he said in a calm, soothing voice, "the pain will go away as soon as you stop struggling. I don't want to hurt you unless I have to, and I won't have to hurt you if you'll just calm down and listen to me." He leaned in and whispered into my ear, "Shhh, baby, that's right, just calm down and shush for a moment and I'll make the pain go away." And once I stopped struggling, he gently kissed my cheek, and whispered, "That's a good boy, Allen, that's it. You're such a good boy." Antoine and the other guests gradually loosened their grips until there was no pain left, as Antoine had promised. He then turned to Manuel and Louis and told them to get the first slam ready. "We wanted to ease you in at first, baby, but since you've been acting like such a bitch tonight, we have no other choice but to start you off with a slam," he told me as Omar tightened a leather strap around my arm. "It's going to be a bit intense at first, baby, and you'll probably have trouble breathing for a couple seconds until you start coughing. But then you'll feel the most intense rush you've ever felt in your entire life, and everything we do to you will start feeling so good, baby, you won't ever want us to stop!" "Now close your eyes for me, baby, for just five seconds," he said, gently biting my neck at the same time I felt a small pinch in my arm. "Now count to five with me... one... two... three... four..." Before we got to five, however, I felt Omar loosening the leather strap around my arm, and I suddenly understood why people call it slamming. As Antoine had predicted, after a few seconds of feelings like I couldn't breathe, followed by a short coughing fit, wave after wave of searing hot pleasure, unlike anything I'd ever felt before, slammed into me like a ton of bricks and started radiating through my body, and the room around me felt brighter, as if my brain had abruptly reset my eyes' brightness level to maximum. And then, just as quickly, my senses start coming back down to earth. The waves of pleasure and joy were replaced by a ravenous, insatiable hunger for sex--I suddenly found myself wanting a never-ending stream of humongous horse cocks shoved up my ass and crammed down my throat, unleashing rivers of ni#%a cum into every orifice of my body. I started jacking off with my right hand, then spread my legs and raised my knees so my left hand could reach my asshole. "Oh god, fuck me, Antoine!" I gasped, desperately finger-fucking my pussy, "please, please fuck me! Fuck me over and over again; and pass my nasty used cunt around!" "Yeah, baby?" Antoine teased, "you wanna get raped, is that it? You want your sweet little boypussy gangraped by ni#$a cocks?" He swatted my fingers out of my asshole and shoved his entire 12-inch cock up my chute in one monstrous stroke. I screamed out in pain, but Antoine just covered my mouth with his mitt-sized hands and shouted, "Shut the fuck up, you filthy little whore! This is what you were begging for, so this is what you're going to get!" --- To be continued ---