Loadcoach

Cabin in the woods, somewhere in the Northwest or Southeast. Completely isolated. A basement and a barn stocked with extreme sub men there to serve rough tops in any way the tops choose. Gang rape, beatings, verbal pozzings. Cocks as weapons. Tear 'em up, make 'em gag, flood their guts. A place where top men have one goal: to have the most intense orgasms of their lives with no limits, no apology.

I would have liked to watch him take his pleasure. Bet it felt great — for him. And I'll bet you've jacked off to the memory more than once.

Easiest way to get me going for a second load is to let me kick back, have a cigar, put on nasty bareback porn, and relax while an obedient sub gives me a good long rim job.

Look up Satyr Films -- their whole output was breaking in young men who needed the money, bareback and hard. Lots of closeups of them realizing they were getting more than they bargained for. Here's a good example: https://xhamster.com/movies/793944/young_twink_hole.html I like both -- watching a bottom get pushed over the edge always makes me hard as a rock, but I also like group scenes where I reach out and feel chewed-up tits, a chastity cage or a sloppy, ruined hole. Either one gets me going.

I started going to bars when I was 18. In California at the time, you had to be 21. I had a fake ID that got me into most places, but I was interested in exploring the bars in Silverlake. The younger guys at the time looked down at that whole scene as being dirty, filled with older men, etc., but I wanted to find out. To my surprise I liked it a lot -- and no one ever asked me for ID. I'd throw on a ball cap and a leather jacket over my jeans and just walk in. Some of them were stand-and-model but I found a couple I liked, like Cuffs, which was the most hardcore of the cruise bars and almost pitch-black. Because of that the bottoms of the bathroom doors were cut away because there was a real risk of a cop walk-through. But the guys there were more hardcore biker types than the men who spent $2000 on leather fetish gear. The music was dark and dangerous and men did poppers at the bar. It was an atmosphere made for fucking — with no fucking allowed. Like all L.A. bars, it closed early and I was usually out on the street by 1:30 a.m., horny and revved up. Before long I was looking in the bar rags at the listings for bathhouses and sex clubs. I could tell I wouldn't like the baths, but was drawn to the ads that looked dangerous and sleazy. After trying a few, the place that always got me hard was an unnamed, unnamed building on Melrose Avenue in East Hollywood. You paid a few bucks to the owner and went in to several dark rooms. Sometimes it was nearly empty, but this is where the sex pigs went. You didn't check your clothes. There was no gym. There was no attitude. Everyone was there for the same thing: fucking and sucking. Until that point I had believed that there was something wrong with me. I liked fucking and I liked getting blown. But I had no interest in blowing another guy and even less interest in getting fucked. I wondered if I was selfish and sometimes if I really liked men. But this place specialized in men who knew what they wanted and took it. The first time I went into the bathroom to piss an older guy watched me, then came over and gave me one of the best blowjobs I'd had at that point. In another room, a younger guy was laying o a table while a standing guy fucked him and a crowd gathered around them watched, jacking their own meat. But it didn't feel like voyeurs -- the watching guys were rubbing each other, jacking each other. As I watched, the top guy blew his load in the guy on the table and a really tall man moved in to fuck the bottom. One of the guys in the crowd gestured to me. and I walked over. Hands engulfed me, rubbing my chest, grabbing my cock, putting my hands on their cocks. After a minute I felt the hand on my cock replaced by a mouth and someone put a bottle of poppers under my nose. I watched the tall man plow the guy on the table hard, and felt my own cock getting rock-hard again. I was 18, but I knew this was my world.

Had one of the best BJs of my life in the dirtiest adult theater in the Tenderloin in San Francisco. A gray-haired biker in full leather (a real biker) deep-throated me while squeezing my balls gently every time I got close. I fed him poppers until I was ready to shoot, took a deep hit myself, and shot a huge load straight down his throat, all while about eight guys watched us.

Taking charge of a guy in a semi-public setting (bathhouse, etc.) -- a guy who wants to serve and accept loads as his purpose. Advertising his availability online and inviting any man who wants to fuck him to do so. Tying his hands together and his feet together, then blindfolding him and pointing his ass in the air. Then letting the fun begin as men fuck him any way they choose as long as they plant their loads deep, while I feed him poppers (at my discretion) and whisper in his ear that he has to take it for as long as I choose. (That's the nice fantasy...)

I've had some hot scenes with guys who don't even feel it unless you rough 'em up and plow 'em hard. It feels good. Damn good. I shot hard and nasty and the bottom tends to act like it's his orgasm when I come. Every top should have the experience sometime of taking his pleasure as he wants it, regardless of pain or consequences for the bottom. "Consensual rape" is powerful and intense.