Barratboy

A rough hand grabbed some of my hair and pulled my head to the side. It was Mac, and he must have read the shocked confusion on my face, because he leaned in and said, “Who told you you could come, boy?” Behind me, with a few more rough and quick thrusts, Big Al dumped his second load of the night into my ass. My legs trembled as I felt the hot spurts inside my already wet hole. He ground himself against me for a few seconds, his belly heavy against my back, then pulled out. I felt his cum leaking out of my ass. Mac tugged my hair a bit harder, and I stumbled a bit towards himself, gripped my shoulder with his other hand and spun me around until my back was pressed against his chest, his hard dick heavy and hot against the small of my back. “Did you tell him he could come?” Mac asked Big Al. “Nope,” Big Al grinned through his bushy beard. “Did you?” Mac asked Robert, who smirked and shook his head. Mac’s voice was low and gravelly when he spoke next, leaning over me and speaking right into my ear, asking “Did you come without permission, boy?” “Yes,” I said, and he tugged on my hair just hard enough to make me hiss. “That’s ‘yes, Sir,’” he corrected. “Yes, sir!” I gasped. He laughed, and I felt it rumble from his chest and through my back. On the bed, Bill was climbing out from between Mark’s legs, and I saw a thick dribble of spunk drop from the end of his dick as he pulled out. I licked my lips and shivered. Mac laughed again, squeezing me against him. “Sorry, man,” Bill said to Big Al, though he didn’t sound remotely sorry at all. “He signed up.” Big Al shook his head, grunting an amused “Uh-huh.” “My turn,” Robert said, and I watched as the hairy blond climbed up onto the bed and positioned himself up between Mark’s bound thighs. He leaned over the young man and grinned as he spoke next to his ear, asking “How about you? You know how to say, ‘Yes, Sir’?” There was no mistaking the sounds Mark made as anything other than a gagged version of those exact words. Robert laughed, and leaned in closer, pressing against Mark and – I assumed – making his hard on obvious. “Good boy. Again?” Again Mark’s gagged version of the words, and he twisted a little against his bindings. He was covered in a light sheen of sweat. “Again?” Robert asked, grinning. Again Mark replied, almost yelling through the spit-soaked gag. “So, you’d like me to fuck you, is that it, boy? You want me to breed your little boy hole?” Mark had barely managed to reply again before Robert raised his hips, positioned himself, and rammed his dick home in what I could tell was a rough – and deep – thrust. Mark’s head drooped and his legs strained against their bound and open position, and Robert laughed, throwing a mean fuck into the slim young man from the get-go. He braced his hairy arms to either side of Mark’s head, and pounded away at him. Mark’s inarticulate ongoing groans were punctuated by little bouts of breathlessness as the big hairy man rammed in deep. “How ‘bout you?” Mac asked, sliding his hand over my chest and taking one nipple between his rough fingers. “You doing to be a good boy?” I bit my lip, and when I didn’t respond fast enough, Mac gave my nipple a quick twist, and I yelped, pressing back against him, squirming. He didn’t relent, and I gasped out, “yes, sir!” He laughed. “That one’s got a whore’s ass,” Big Al said, nodding at me. I felt my face grow red. I looked away, and once again my eyes were drawn to Mark’s prone and bound body, and Robert’s rough fucking. Sweat was dripping from Robert’s forehead to a spot between Mark’s shoulder blades. Mark’s ongoing cry was growing almost inaudible now, breathy and quick. “How so?” Bill asked, and my eyes shot back to him. His hairy chest, and his thick, already hard dick, with the sheen of his load still on the purple cock head. “Barely got my tongue in his ass before he was begging for it,” Big Al said. “I think he would have done anything I asked.” My face was bright red, and I had to look away again. Still pressed hard behind me, Mac squeezed my nipple with another quick tweak, and I writhed again. “Huh,” Bill said. “That so?” He grinned, and moved to a large over-sized wooden chair with black leather cushioning and curved padded armrests, and pulled it out from against the wall. “Bring him here.” “You heard him.” Mac marched me to the chair, and Bill’s hands took my wrists and made me hold onto the high back of the tall chair while he picked up two more loops of tape-covered rope from beside the bed. He secured my wrists to the top of the chair – it was a little awkward to stand and lean that way. I was shaking – Bill’s fingers seemed scalding hot on my wrists, and my head was spinning. I could still see – and hear – the ongoing fucking noises of Robert and Mark, and I was breathing in quick heavy breaths. “Knees on the armrests,” Bill said, and the three men groped, grabbed, and lifted me until I was crouched on the armrests – I realized quickly that the “U” shape of the arm-rests were designed to do this, and that the whole chair must have been custom made. “Comfy, boy?” Bill asked. “Yes, sir!” I said. It came on reflex, and I shivered. Two more loops were tied around my ankles, securing me. I was more or less crouched on the padded chair, ass in the air, and legs spread, bent over just enough that looking up was uncomfortable. “Nice,” Mac said. All three men had stepped back. “Seriously,” Big Al said. “Watch this.” His bearded mouth returned to my hole and once again I was gasping, writhing and begging all at once. His tongue dove deep into my hole – my sore and sperm-slicked hole – and it was at once a relief and a torture. “Oh god, oh fuck, oh! OH!” I was pushing my ass back onto his tongue, desperate to feel full again. My head sank against the ridge of the chair’s back, and my hands twisted impotently against the loops that bound them in place. My toes curled, my back arched, and I desperately wanted it to stop and never stop, all at the same time. When Big Al pulled away, and laughed, I nearly whimpered. “See?” he asked. Bill moved around the front of the chair, blocking my view of Robert and Mark. He leaned in close, pulled up my head, and kissed me. His tongue filled my mouth and I swallowed it eagerly. When he pulled back, he was grinning at me. “I want you to beg us to ruin your hole, boy,” he said. And then I felt Mac’s mouth against my pucker.

Feeling Big Al’s cum leak out of my ass was strangely intoxicating. I felt a sort of wild freedom as I rose, still licking some of his spunk from my lips, and the big bearded man rose beside me. He wrapped one of his huge arms around my neck and half pulled, have crushed me against him. A second later we were moving up the stairs and across the hall to where I saw light streaming through the open door of the master bedroom. Big Al put a finger to his bearded mouth, and I nodded. We walked to the open door as quietly as we could, though given the grunts and moans coming from the open door – as well as the noises coming from behind the closed doors at the opposite end of the hallway - I was pretty sure no one was going to hear us. Big Al got to the door first, and grinned, gesturing to me with one hand to come stand beside him. I bit my bottom lip, felt more of his spunk dribble from my ass, and went to join him. My mouth dropped open at the view. Mark lay naked and spread-eagle on the king-sized bed, each of his ankles secured in a loop of tape-covered rope that was secured to the bedposts at the head of the bed frame, his hands were tied in front of him, and he was perched up on his elbows, his slim chest already damp with sweat. He was blindfolded with one bandanna, and a second bandanna was tied around his open mouth, gagging him. Behind him, between his legs and grinding into him with an exaggerated circular motion that I imagined was causing all sorts of incredible sensations was Bill, who’d shucked his shirt and revealed his stocky, hairy chest, and one strong arm which gripped tight in Mark’s hair and pulled him backward as he shifted himself behind the young man. The open bottle of lube, and the wicked smile on Bill’s face told me that his dick was buried deep, and the groaning, moaning voice that was muffled by the gag told me that Mark was definitely enjoying having Bill inside his ass. Bill saw us, of course, and his smile widened. He winked at me, sticking out his tongue and giving Mark a short series of faster hip-grinds, which made Mark groan all the louder. Bill leaned forward and pulled harder on Mark’s hair, until his mouth was close to Mark’s ear. “What if I told you you were being watched, little boy?” Bill asked. “Do you like the idea of being watched as much as you like the idea of being fucked?” Mark’s groan was nearly tortured – I knew that sound, I’d been making it earlier: he didn’t want to want it, but he desperately wanted it. Bill smiled all the wider. “You know daddy is going to make you his, don’t you?” he asked, and again, the moan that followed was nearly guttural. Bill laughed. Beside me, I felt Big Al’s fingers brush my ass, and then slide between my ass cheeks. I looked at him, and he grinned, tugging me toward him until I was standing in front of him. His cock had recovered from before, and he rubbed it up and down the small of my back. I couldn’t help it – I groaned a bit myself, and I saw Mark startle as he realized Bill hadn’t been setting up a fantasy. Mark was truly being watched. But Bill took Mark’s mind off it almost immediately, letting go of his hair, bracing both arms to either side of the slim young man, and then giving his ass three quick pumps that made Mark’s shoulders sag and his head slump. He was almost whimpering. Tied up like that, he couldn’t do much but be ridden, and I could see the tension building in his body. “You want daddy to ruin you, don’t you, boy?” Bill said, his voice deep and almost dangerous. My whole body shivered, and behind me, Big Al aimed his dick at my spunk-sticky hole and pushed himself into me. I ground back against him, leaning forward slightly to accommodate his height, and groaned again. My eyes were riveted to Bill’s hairy arms and chest as he moved in a constant rhythm against Mark. God, I wanted to be Mark. Big Al’s hand slid around my chest and pulled me up against himself. His thick beard tickled my ear as he leaned in close, and whispered “The boy’s about to be bred for real, just like your friend Tim. My head spun. I wasn’t entirely sure what Big Al meant. I opened my mouth to ask him, and then heard another voice. “Is this where the line starts?” I turned to see Robert and Mac, who had come from one of the rooms behind me and were obviously done blowing each other – though they were both hard, both naked, and both enjoying the show happening in front of them. “Definitely,” Big Al huffed, starting to fuck me now, standing behind me and jabbing me with his cock with short little thrusts. My sore hole clenched on his dick, and I bit my lip. My eyes returned to Mark, who must have heard the question and the answer. His noises were barely coherent. Bill ground into him. “Ready for it, boy? Ready for freedom?” Mark’s head bowed, his hair sweaty and sticking up from all angles from Bill’s grip. He was desperately shoving back against Bill’s dick, and the sound he managed to make wasn’t exactly a word, but the intent was clear. He desperately wanted Bill to keep fucking him. “Fuck yeah,” Robert’s voice was heavy with lust, adding “Fill that boy with the seed.” It finally clicked what was happening. Tim’s talk about how fucking with Bill had opened his mind up to new experiences and new freedoms. Big Al’s “bred for real” comment. Bill saying he would “ruin” Mark. I gasped, and Big Al’s hands clenched on my waist, holding me in place, and he started to mirror Bill’s thrusts. What if I’d been the one who’d chosen Bill’s keys? On the bed, I heard Bill growl, and he nearly yelled as he said “Fuck yeah, boy – there it is, take daddy’s seed in deep!” My whole body clenched, and I came on the spot without touching my cock at all.

Big Al saw me hesitate, and his teeth flashed from under his bushy beard. "Wait, no, you're right," he said, adding "get naked. Then get over here." His hand rubbed his crotch again, and I watched the muscles play in his thick arms. My stomach was in knots. I couldn't believe I'd tossed my keys into that bowl. Again, I remembered Tim telling me about his relationship with Bill. "He's really opened me up," Tim had said, "in more ways that one." I'd laughed then, but I wasn't laughing now. I was too nervous. Tim had had his first threesome with Bill, and - to my amazement - Tim had admitted that the dirtier and wilder they got, the more he enjoyed himself. "I had no idea what I was missing until he showed me," Tim had said, with all seriousness. I bit my lip, and tugged my shirt over my head. Big Al smiled, and his eyebrows rose. "That's the attitude, boy." I rose, and self-consciously undid my belt, kicked off my shoes and socks, and then stepped out of my jeans, wearing only my underwear now. At this point my nerves faltered a bit more. I think Big Al noticed again, because he pulled off his shirt. Holy crap did he live up to the name. His arms were like tree trunks, thick with knots of muscle, as was his chest. To my surprise, he wasn't at all hairy other than the beard. That he had a belly didn't ruin the effect - if anything, it made him seem all the more masculine. He looked like a freaking viking or something. With that encouragement, I dropped my underwear and walked over to where he was sitting. He spread his big arms across the back of the couch and smiled at me. "Get it wet, boy," he ordered. I crouched naked in front of him and undid his belt a little awkwardly, then pulled it free from his jeans. He lifted a bit from the cushion when I unbuttoned and unzipped him, and then when I tugged at the jeans his dick - as thick as the rest of him - sprung free. Big Al went commando. I'm not gonna lie. My mouth watered. It had been a while, and listening to Tim constantly talking about the new and interesting ways Bill had shoved his cock inside Tim had been riling me up for weeks. Big Al's uncut meat - a favorite of mine - was just the ticket. I went down on him with a vengeance, slurping the full length of him into my mouth before he was fully hard, and working my tongue under the big guy's foreskin. "Oh, that's right, boy, you slobber that up good," he groaned, his voice like gravel. He got hard quickly under my enthusiastic sucking, and I had to move a hand to grip his shaft. His was one of the thickest dicks I'd ever sucked, and his length was nothing to sneeze at, either. I moved my free hand up his belly to his hard chest, and pressed against his strong muscle, redoubling my efforts to suck his dick whole. I held my breath while I buried his dickhead in my throat for a few seconds - I was out of practice, and nearly gagged the second time - and one of his thick hands took my shoulder, squeezing a little. "Hold on boy, you're gonna make me come," he said. I let his dick come free from my mouth. "I like to swallow," I said, and my face burned red. I'd never admitted that before, not even to Tim. I liked spunk - I liked it a lot - and I knew that was a bit taboo. Tim's admittance to having allowed Bill come inside him a while back had shocked the hell out of me, but I'd also gotten hard on the spot. Big Al's smiled down at me, definitely amused. "Oh, now I see the boy's true colors, huh?" He gave my cheek an affectionate pat. "It ain't your throat I want to spunk, boy," he said. He must have seen my expression, because he laughed. "Uh oh, boy is spooked," he said. Then he reached down and put both his hands under my armpits and lifted me. I say lifted me, and I mean it. He actually pulled me up onto the couch, his arms flexing with what didn't seem like a whole lot of effort on his part, and the next thing I knew I was sitting on his lap, his dick pressed between my ass cheeks, my own hard on against his belly, and his bearded lips were crushed against mine. It was a sloppy kiss - he was all spit and tongue - it was like he was trying to fill my mouth with himself, and when his arms wrapped around me and squeezed, the strength in them was incredible. I could barely breathe. He laughed when he let go, and I put my hands on his chest, gasping a little. "You want my dick in you, boy, I know it," he said. "Uh," I managed. My head was spinning. I was so turned on. His rough hands slid down my back, and he rubbed one finger between my ass cheeks, fingering my whole with the tip of one of his thick fingers. I bit my lip and pressed my face into his shoulder, moaning a little. It had been way too long since I'd been fucked. "Here," he said, "climb on." He raised his massive arms, and slid one, then the other, under my thighs. I wasn't sure exactly what he was doing until he started to lift. I had to walk my hands along the wall behind the couch - he was raising my full weight from my thighs, lifting me higher and higher above him. I nearly lost my balance, but then he gave one last little shove, and I was pretty much face against the wall and almost above him. I thought for a second he was going to suck my dick as he pulled my crotch toward his face - I was terrified I'd blow as soon as his mouth touched my dick - but then he gave one more little lift and he leaned back a bit and lowered my ass onto his mouth. His tongue buried itself in my hole, and I let out a long, loud, cry. Balanced on his arms, barely holding myself upright against the wall, I was helpless as he tongue-fucked my pucker. I writhed, gasping and moaning and swearing, as his rough beard rubbed between my cheeks and the strong wet darting flicks of his tongue drove me absolutely crazy. I'd always loved being rimmed, but he seemed to have found a way to drill right into my brain with his tongue. I was going crazy, wriggling and twisting on his tongue. He lifted me again - actually lifted me! - and said, "I'm going to eat this pucker till you beg me to fuck it and fill it." It came out matter-of-fact, but I could hear his amusement, too. Then he lowered me back onto his face and that incredible assault began all over again. I squirmed. I twisted. I arched my back so far I nearly fell back off him, though he shifted one hand to the small of my back and held me in place. The scent of his sweat was starting to hit me, and I was whimpering a bit. "Please!" I gasped as he drilled his tongue in with a long stroke. "Oh! Please!" He lifted me again. "Please what, boy?" he asked. Again, that sardonic amusement. His beard, and my ass, were drenched with his spit by this point. I bit my lip. Oh god! What was I thinking? He chuckled, and his mouth returned to my hole, all the more aggressive with his tongue and beard. His hands massaged my thighs in turn as he held me above him, and I was uttering an endless stream of nonsense begging and swearing. I couldn't take it. "Please!" I nearly shouted. "Please! Fuck me!" He lifted me, but this time his finger slid into my pucker, just a little. "And..?" he asked. Spontaneously I groaned "Fill me! "Fuck me and fill me!" His rough grip shifted, and he pretty much threw me onto my back on the couch. He smiled down at me - his beard soaked with his spit, and he hoisted first one, then the other of my legs over his wide, hugely muscular shoulders, lined-up his dick and I bit my lip and closed my eyes. "Open your eyes, boy," he ordered, and I did, feeling my face turn all the redder. "I like to watch you watch me," he grinned, and then he pushed into me. His dick, with only his saliva to work with, was a harsher entry than I was used to, but he maintained a slow but even pressure until I felt his belly press against my thighs. I groaned as I felt his balls against my ass, and he slid his hands down my thighs, lifting my ass to give him a better angle. His thick chest and strong arms flexed, and I groaned again. I felt so full - his cock was hot and throbbed a bit inside my eaten hole. "Say it again," he again ordered. "Fuck me and fill me!" I begged. There was no other word for it. He grinned, growled, and started to fuck me with strong, hard, thrusts. My hands flew to his chest, and pressed hard against his firm muscle, my ankles locked behind his neck, and I found myself repeating it over and over. "Fuck me and fill me! Fuck me! Oh, god, fuck me and fill me!" "Yeah," Big Al grunted. "Yeah, that's what you want, boy, you want Big Al to breed you, don'tcha boy?" I agreed whole-heartedly. My ass was aching with the man's rough fuck, and I was doing everything I could to drive him in deeper, pulling on his neck with my legs. I was desperate to have him inside me, to keep him inside me, and to feel his spunk inside me. Tim was right, this was incredible. "Fuck!" Big Al grunted, and with the word, the flood of heat inside my pucker hit me like a train. I threw my head back, riding a wave of pleasure from the sensation - it soothed and burned all at the same time - and cried out wordlessly, more of an exhalation than anything else. I reached for my dick and jerked myself furiously, erupting between us with three long spurts of my own cum. "Holy shit," I said, gasping. Big Al pulled out, and leaned back on his haunches. "Now you can swallow it," he said. I looked at his dick, slick with his cum, and rolled over and then crawled toward him. Most of his load was up my ass - though it was now leaking out of me onto Bill's couch, along with the spunk dripping from my stomach - but there was more than enough on Big Al's dick to make my mouth water. I started to lick and suck him clean, savoring the taste. Big Al's hand rested on my head. "Hear that?" he asked. I paused, still hearing mostly my heartbeat in my ears. But now that he'd drawn my attention to it, I knew what Big Al meant. I could hear a voice - definitely Mark's reedy voice - groaning and moaning. It wasn't recognizable as words, whatever he was saying, but it was pretty loud. I slurped at Big Al's dick, looking up at him. He knew I'd heard. "Sounds like Bill left the door open," Big Al said. He smiled. "Let's go look." (to be continued)

It was getting really late, I'd had a few beers, and I kept trying to meet Tim's gaze, but he was firmly sitting on his daddy's lap, and barely paying attention to me. It had been a good night - I'd surprised myself by having a good time, but it was getting to the point where I should really head on home. Tim and his daddy, however, were basically making out on one of the three couches in the large living room like they couldn't breathe without each other. I tried not to notice how the older man's hand was down the back of Tim's shorts. They'd been together a couple of weeks, and - like always - Tim had thrown himself full force into their relationship. I'd learned more about his sex life in the last few weeks than I'd known about my own. It wasn't that Tim had bad taste - far from it - if I was honest with myself, I was far more attracted to Tim's boyfriend Bill than was Tim himself. Tim was like me - a college kid, slim, handsome enough (I guess), and lean and toned from a mix of the gym and the basketball court, but the guy with his hand down his shorts was bigger, about two decades older (at least), with a short cropped beard and buzz-cut that made me think of a soldier or something. He was thick armed, thick chested, and if he had a bit of a gut, it suited him. Bill was masculine, to say the very least, as were most of his friends. I knew Tim had met Bill at a local gay pub - one that generally sported older guys rather than guys our age - but I wasn't entirely sure on the rest of the details of their relationship. Or at least, not outside the bedroom. Inside the bedroom, I knew a lot about it, including Bill's propensity for ropes and knots, handcuffs, spanking, and a whole other list of stuff that made my stomach react. Not necessarily in a queasy way, either. Every time I saw him, I couldn't help but wonder what it might be like to be tied up and at his mercy. I tried not to imagine his hands down my shorts. I was on one of the other two couches, beside another couple - Robert and Andrew - who had apparently been together about a decade, and had known Bill for about that long. They were almost mirror images of each other - stocky guys with shaved heads and short goatees - Andrew was blond to Robert's dark hair - and they even sported identical wife-beaters, which made it obvious that Robert was the hairier of the two. On the third couch was another of Tim's buds from school, Mark, who I didn't know very well - they had one class together, but I hadn't hung out with him much. He was a bit of a geek, glasses and all, and skinnier than us. I think he helped Tim with his essays, and Tim, in turn, tried to get him to go out a bit more. When Tim had invited us to this party, I'm sure Mark hadn't clued in that most of the guests - us excluded - would be Bill's age, which was why he looked so uncomfortable on the couch between the two guys who'd been talking to him for the last hour or so, heavy on the teasing and flirting. I wasn't sure if they were a couple or not. One was Mac, the other they called Big Al. Mac was - if I'd heard correctly - a corrections officer at the local jail. He had the look for it, he was definitely fit, and thickly so, and his voice was deep and I had no trouble imagining him directing others with it - upon pain of consequence. Big Al was definitely that - he wasn't a gym guy, but a power-lifter. His arms were massive, but his gut wasn't far behind. He had a bushy beard and a loud laugh. Big Al had just wrapped one huge arm around Mark and given him a sudden and tight hug, laughing about how "adorable and shy" he was when I decided I maybe needed to offer a rescue. When he'd invited me to the party, Tim had taken me aside and offered this advice: "Listen. Bill really wants you guys to come, but you know what Mark can be like. If the conversation dies, just ask 'em how they all met. They love to tell that story." So, since the time seemed ripe for a diversion, I blurted out the question "How did you guys all meet?" Big Al let go - Mark offered me a quick glance of thanks and pushed his glasses back onto his nose - and then laughed again. "Was it the key party?" he asked, looking over at Bill. Bill stopped sucking on Tim's face, and smiled. "Shit. I think it was. Us three, anyway," he said, pointing at Big Al and Mac. "A key party?" Mark asked, clearly not understanding the reference. Bill smiled and Tim squirmed a little against Bill's hand. I had no doubt at least one finger was roaming. Bill grinned, and raised his eyebrows in a bit of a leer at Mark. "Everyone tossed their keys into a bowl or a bag. You reach in, pull out a set, and that was who you played with." Mark blinked, and naïvely responded "Played with?" I felt my face blush as I got it. Big Al leaned in close to Mark's ear. "Sucked dick," he said, "or fucked. Y'know. Played. Back in the day it was all about fucking around, spunk everywhere." Mark blushed crimson, and Mac rubbed him on the head, messing up his hair. "Shit, I remember those," Robert said beside me, and Andrew chimed in with a smirk saying "Yeah, I'm sure you do." Bill smiled, and leaning forward just a bit, he reached into the front pocket of his jeans, and with some effort, pulled out his keys. He held them up, jingling. Tim laughed. "Seriously, honey?" He sounded nervous, or a little scared. His smile was nearly manic. I felt my stomach clench. "Uh," Mark said. "Aw, come on," Big Al said, and pulled out his own keys. "Trust me, kid. We had a lot of fun in those days." "Still do," Robert said, and reached into his jeans. Andrew swatted him on the shoulder, but it was half-hearted, and he was smiling. "I don't know," Mark responded, sounding positively squirrely. "Fine," Tim said, surprising me with his vehemence. He slid off Bill's lap - and Bill's hand came free of his shorts - and he left the room long enough to return with a large bowl, and his keys in hand. I stared, stunned, as he put them in the bowl and placed it on the table in the middle of the room. Tim looked at me. "It's up to you guys," he said, and his voice was even and a little strange. "Seriously. I take no responsibility." His smile was still tight, and a little tense. Mac leaned forward and tossed in his keys, as did Big Al. And Robert. Andrew got up and went for his jacket. Mark stared at me. My stomach was doing little flips. "You that eager to maybe have me fuck one of your friends, Tim?" Bill asked, griping Tim's ass. My hand was in my hoodie pocket and my hand was over the bowl before I could really think about what I was doing. My little flash-light key chain went into the bowl. All eyes turned to Mark, and I saw his hand tremble as he pulled out his small ring of keys - he had one of those plastic wrist loops on his dorm keys - and then he let go. He let out a little laugh as they went in, and I looked at Tim. Tim glanced away, looking at Bill. Holy crap. My whole body was shaking. Bill picked up the bowl and put a cloth napkin over it, shaking up the bowl of keys, and then held it out to Tim, saying "You first, baby." Tim bit his lip, and reached into the bowl, moved his hand around for a while, biting his bottom lip and being dramatic, then pulled out a set of keys with a black leather key chain. "Well hello, Tim," said Andrew. "Now what?" Tim asked, looking at Bill. He was breathing a little heavy, and shaking, but he also looked relieved, or perhaps resigned. I couldn't read him. "Now you and Andy go find yourself a room," Bill said, "and do what comes natural." "Natural is going to come pretty far up your ass," Andrew said, rising, "since Robert here never bottoms." Robert laughed. Tim reached out a hand, and Andrew took it, and led him out of the room while Robert laughed and Bill watched them go. Holy crap, I thought again, and then heard the door to one of the three bedrooms open and then close. Robert reached in next, and when he pulled out Mac's keys, which elicited a laugh from Mac. "Well, it's cocksucking, I guess, 'cause I sure as shit don't bottom either." The two left together, smirking. Bill held out the bowl to me, and I ran my hands through the plastic, metal, and cloth that was inside. When I pulled out a set of keys, no one spoke up. "Must be Robert's or Tim's" Bill said, placing them on the table. He held the bowl out to Mark, and he pulled out his own keys, turning bright red when he saw the plastic ring attached to the key he'd picked up. "Masturbation isn't an option," Bill said, and he took the keys from Mark and put them back in the bowl. He held the bowl out for Big Al, and Big Al drew my keys out, the little flashlight hanging off the end of the key he'd snagged. "Boy," Big Al said to me, smiling, adding "You better bottom, because Big Al hasn't had it for weeks." I could barely meet his gaze. My face felt like it was on fire. "Which leaves you and me," Bill said to Mark. "You mind if we take the last bedroom?" He was speaking to Big Al. "My, uh, toy chest is in there." Mark's eyes were huge. "No problem," Big Al said, and then gave Mark a shove. Mark rose shakily, and Bill put down the bowl and took Mark by the arm, leading him toward the master bedroom. "You'll never be the same," I heard him mutter to Mark as they walked, and then the door closed behind them. I looked at Big Al. He grinned broadly saying "Another boy bites the dust," laughing at his own joke. Then he spread his legs a bit wider, and groped his crotch through his jeans. "Get on over here and suck this, boy." (to be continued)

The baskets were handed out, with the cloths still in place. I wasn’t sure exactly what was about to happen, but I was sure my sweaty jock – not to mention my aching cock and my twitching and sore ass – were going to find out soon. The bunnies stood off to the side, while the men had a basket each in front of them. I waited while the bald bearded host rose, and nodded. I couldn’t help but notice that he’d pulled the papers from the top of each basket, so I wasn’t sure who’d ended up with the blue basket. I assumed the plastic eggs had all the information inside them that was needed. “Okay, we’ll go around the group once first. And if we don’t end up with any leftovers, we’ll circle again.” He nodded to the big blond guy who’d used his backpack full of toys on my ass, and the big guy drew an egg from his basket. He pulled out a red egg. “C’mere, bunny!” the blond said to the red bunny, who – I couldn’t help but smile – seemed very relieved that his egg had been drawn right away. And then, to my further amusement, the next man to draw – the black guy who’d apparently had a thing for spanking – also a drew a red egg. Our host spoke up. “Okay, that was quick. So, up to you, red.” The red bunny blinked. “Pardon?” “You can go to the new draw, or you can double-up.” It took me a second to get it, and it took the red bunny a few seconds longer than me. “Oh!” he said, and looked at the black man, who leered at him. The red bunny blushed, then said, “Um. Double up, I guess.” The black man nodded at the blond, and the two went to go stand beside the bunny in the red jock. The next man drew a green egg. The one after, yellow. The next man – the red haired bear with the pelt of fur all across his chest – pulled my egg from his basket. He grinned and winked at me, and got up, putting his basket down and walked over to stand beside me. I caught a mild scent of sweat from him, and felt my dick – still sore from being man-handled – harden all over again. God I needed to get off. “Hey,” he said. “Hi,” I replied, gamely. Another green egg – the green bunny opted to switch, which made the first man who drew him grouch a bit – and then after that another green, which made the green bunny swap a second time. The second man took a good deal of ribbing from the first when the bunny went to stand with the third. It was all pretty good natured. After that, another yellow egg – this one drawn by Mr. Clean – and the yellow bunny doubled up. I watched the blue bunny and the pink bunny exchange ever more anxious glances as each man drew an egg. Another green – the green bunny doubled up. And then another green, which made the green bunny laugh. “Can I triple up?” The host shook his head. “Greedy.” So I watched the green bunny pick two out of the three men, and the one that was left out had a little scowl under his mask, but it didn’t have a lot of heat to it. The guy with the tattooed sleeves drew the blue egg, leaving only four men to keep drawing, and only the pink bunny waiting for his egg to be drawn. Then the bear who’d man-handled my balls so roughly drew a green egg, and the green bunny had to decide again – he skipped on the man-handler, which I personally felt might have been a good move, since my balls were still aching. And not just for release. I looked at the red-haired bear beside me, and wondered if he was the blue-slip or not. He was more or less my type, but some part of me doubted that he was the one. My ex-daddybear had definitely suggested I’d like the blue-slip guy, and while the red bear was hot, and I really liked his thick arms and all the hair on his chest, he wasn’t putting off a particularly rough vibe to me. Yellow again – two men to go. The yellow bunny switched. Blue again – the blue bunny doubled up. The last one to draw was the host. The bald, bearded man smiled at the pink bunny as he reached into his basket, but he pulled out a white egg. “Double up,” I said, without even thinking about it. The host was hot. Masculine, bearded, bald-headed, and if the red-haired bear didn’t radiate rough, the bald guy practically projected it from both eyes. He smiled. “Okay,” he said, pointing at the men who’d been swapped out. “If you’ve not got a bunny, we’ll go until we draw a pink.” Another green – man that bunny had all the luck. He stuck with the two he already had. Then the man-handler drew the pink egg, and it was suddenly over. I watched the red haired bear crack open my white egg and he pulled out the little purple slip of paper. I exhaled, and looked over at the bald bearded host as he walked over, rolling the egg between his hands. He cracked it open in front of me – and I held my breath. He pulled out the blue slip of paper, and smiled at me. In the room, the two men wasted no time getting my jock and ears off, and I was pressed between them – the red bear in front of me, the bearded bald daddy behind me – as they gripped and tugged me and got what little clothing I was wearing off my body. “You should fuck him first,” the black bearded daddy said, and pulled away. I heard his zipper behind me, and a moment later he was crawling onto the bed – his thick hairy ass and thighs on view before he rolled over onto his back and I saw that his cock, already hard and sticking up from a thick patch of dark black hair, was long and thick and one of the most veined cocks I’d ever seen. “Ass up in the air, boy,” he said, “and mouth down on this dick. Now.” I couldn’t remember much about the purple slip of paper, but I knew the blue one cold. I scrambled to obey, crawling onto the bed on all-fours and putting my mouth around his thick cockhead with one eager motion. Behind me, the bed shifted and I felt rough hands rub at my sore ass. “That’s a nice little ass,” the red haired bear said. “Edible.” And then his beard and tongue were lapping at my sore pucker, his hands kneading my ass cheeks. I groaned around the bald daddy’s dick. “I think he likes being rimmed,” the daddy said, and his heavy hands gripped my head, holding me in place while he suddenly thrust up into my mouth a few times, making me gag with the girth and length of his meat. I didn’t just like being rimmed. Being rimmed makes me crazy. And a bearded mouth rimming me is beyond arousing. The red-haired bear wasn’t the best rimmer I’d ever had eating my hole, but he was enthusiastic, and my ass was so sore and used from the dildos and dicks of the evening that I was pressing back against him for the temporary relief his tongue seemed to deliver. I rubbed against his face with abandon, and the bald daddy started to shove my head down onto his dick with quick tugs that made me gag and gurgle on his cock. Thick ropes of saliva were dripping down his shaft and pooling in his pubic hair, and the scent of his sweat was filling the room. Trapped between the two men, on all fours on the bed, I couldn’t even jerk myself off. Again, I was hard, and again my dick wanted to explode, but... The daddy bear pushed me down hard on his dick, and I gagged. “He doesn’t care about lube,” he said. Behind me, the red haired bear laughed, pulling away from my ass. “Yeah, I saw that,” the red haired bear said, and spat once on my pucker, holding my ass cheeks apart with both hands. The bald daddy pulled my head off his dick – it slapped wetly against his hairy stomach – and he twisted my hair until I was looking up his wide chest at him. I grimaced with the pain, but my dick throbbed hard. “Okay, boy,” he said, looking down at my face. “My friend here is gonna fuck your little boy ass, and fill you up. Then it’s daddy’s turn. Whatever cum he leaves behind, and whatever spit you get on daddy’s dick, that’s all you’re getting, boy. That’s your lube. You got it?” I barely had time to say “yes, sir!” before he shoved my mouth back on his dick. It was quickly apparent that the purple slips of paper that the red haired bear had offered had definitely had “rough fucking” on them, and that I’d checked them. The red haired bear gripped my waist, rammed his dick into me with a single shove, and then started fucking my spit-slicked ass without pause. The daddy kept purposefully out of synch, shoving me down on his cock almost at random, so either end of me was battered without rhythm, and I had no chance to prepare or balance myself. Sometimes they were both slamming me full of their cocks, sometimes I rocked one way or the other. Sometimes they had both nearly withdrawn. The red haired bear didn’t last long, but he made up for the time with the strength in his hands – my waist would definitely be bruised – and the copious load that exploded in my hole. He growled hard as he blew his wad, and the daddy ground his cock deep into my throat, making me choke and gag all the more. Tears streamed down my eyes as he held me there the entire time the red haired bear leaned in hard to drill his dick deep while he spewed inside me. “Fuck yeah,” the red haired bear said, and then, without ceremony, pulled out of me. The daddy bear loosened his grip on me, and I slid up his cock with my mouth, still sucking hard, but able to breathe more. “Thanks again, eh?” the red haired bear said – to my host, obviously, not me – and then I felt him climb off the bed. The daddy shoved me down on his dick a few more times while the red haired bear dressed, and then left. “Alone at last,” the bald daddy said. He tugged my mouth off his dick again, and pulled my hair back until I was looking up at him again. “Okay, boy, you stay put. Daddy will be right back.” I nodded. “Yes sir.” My voice was raw, and my throat was full of phlegm from the rough face-fucking. I felt cum leaking out of my ass as he swung his hairy thighs to the side and slide off the bed. He went to the drawers, and opened them, pulling out a plastic ball with straps. My stomach clenched, and my sore ass puckered, another stream of cum leaking out and dripping down to my balls. My arms and legs shook from being on all fours between the two rough men. “Last chance to speak up, boy,” he said, and sat on the bed in front of me. He held out the ball-gag close to my mouth. I opened wide. He smiled, and tied it in place around the back of my head. His next trip to the drawers was for a length of black cloth. He climbed onto the bed behind me, pressing between my knees. I could feel his spit drenched cock against my ass cheek as he lifted one hand behind my back, and then grabbed my other hand, too. I fell, face-first, into the blanket on the bed with a grunt. He chuckled, tying my wrists together tight behind my back. He went to the drawer again, and this time came back with ropes that ended in loops. He looped first one ankle, then the other, and tied off the ropes against the end of the bed. I was face down on the bed, ass in the air, my ankles tied far enough apart that I could barely keep up on my knees. My back was arched and I couldn’t pull my legs together if I’d tried. “Just for fun, boy,” the bald daddy said. “Let me hear you say, ‘No, daddy, stop! I change my mind!’” My voice was completely unintelligible through the gag. “Louder!” The bald bearded man slapped my ass, hard. I howled into the gag. I tried again, but it was still gibberish. Loud gibberish. “Huh,” the older man said, amused. “I swear I asked you to say no, but what I’m hearing here is ‘daddy, please rape my worthless hole.’” He chuckled as I shivered. “Who am I to deny a boy his due? But you can tell me to stop if you want.” He laughed at that, and I felt his rough hands slide up my bound thighs, and slide between them to stroke my hard dick. “I really owe your ex a thank you,” he said. “I don’t get to breed and break as many cute little fuckers as I’d like.” And then he shoved his cock inside me. It was brutal, and obviously designed to be so. The angle of my ass wasn’t at all suited for his rough entry, and with one hand he gripped my hair and shoved my head so hard into the blanket I could barely breathe around the ball gag. He thrust, changed his angle again, thrust, pulled all the way out and shoved all the way back in, and then repeated everything again, twisting to the left or right in a way that he must have known was battering my already sore hole. “Breed and break” he’d said. I howled into the gag, and he laughed. “What’s that, boy? Harder?” he said. He shoved harder, leaned all the way over me, his entire weight drilling into my sore pucker, and his cock rubbed me so hard and deep I nearly hyperventilated through my nostrils. He ground against me, and lowered himself across my back, his bearded lips rough against my cheek as he spoke into my ear. “You like that, don’t you, boy? You want me to break you and breed you and ruin your hole, don’t you boy? You know what I mean, don’t you boy?” My head swam. His thrusts returned, more rough and regular than before. Thrusts, I knew, of a man determined to blow his load deep in my ass. I yelled into the gag, thinking about his words, remembering my ex-daddybear, and everything I’d admitted to him. “I don’t get to breed and break as many cute little fuckers as I’d like,” this man had said. He shoved in hard and grunted, and the moment I felt the first hot jet of his spunk up my ass, my own cock exploded. I’d never come without touching myself before, but the reality of what was happening shoved me right over the edge. He wrapped his arms around me and squeezed so tightly I couldn’t breath at all as he emptied his balls into my hole, grunting and swearing and biting the back of my shoulder, hard. He lay on me, breathing for a while, until his arms loosened and he rolled off. His dick hurt as much slipping out of me as it had slipping in. He slapped my ass, and I whimpered into the gag. “Okay, boy,” he said. “I’m going to go say goodbye to any of the guests that are still here before they go. Then I’ll be back. ‘Cause daddy isn’t done until the boy is crying, you understand?” I shivered on the bed. He slapped my ass again. I tried to answer him, muffled and warped through the gag. I tried to say, “Yes, daddy!” He laughed. “Damn boy, all you had to say was ‘yes daddy’ but alright, I’ll find a way to make the next load meaner. Fucking whore.” And he left, and I realized that I was going to be there all night, tied up and fucked mercilessly by a man determined to break and breed me. And I felt complete.

Working on it...

Thanks guys, makes me smile to read the comments.

All I'd really known about the pub's Friday Nights was that they were the night that it more or less transformed into a bear and leather bar, but that a little guy like me could still go without feeling completely out of place. When I got there, and saw it was packed with big guys - the kind of big guys that I adored - I was very happy I'd plucked up the courage to head out on my own. I hadn't thought it was going to be so incredibly busy at the pub - the one time I'd gone before, with friends from university, it hadn't been anything like this. I was nervous, but with a big crowd, I figured hiding wouldn't be a problem. I paid my entry, got my stamp, and then saw the big sign over the coat check. "Jail and Bail!" Underneath that was a picture of a guy behind bars with a big grin on his face, and a note saying all the money was going toward local LGBT outreach. I realized I'd come on an event night. That was fine by me, and given the plethora of big hairy guys on display - seriously, this was a lovely gathering of bears, and this wee fellow wasn't going to look a gift horse in the mouth - I wasn't going to bedgrudge a slightly higher than average cover charge. At the coat check, though, a guy in a black "STAFF" t-shirt peeled off a sticker and smacked it onto the back of my shoulder. "What's that?" I asked. "Your number," he said, putting another sticker on the front of my chest. I must have looked confused. "For a buck, someone can send you a message - you just find one of the wardens and they'll give you the paper and a pencil and deliver the message to the number you write down." "Ah," I nodded. "For twenty, you can send someone to jail. You stay in jail for fifteen minutes, or until you bail yourself out - which is any donation you want to make." "Jail?" I asked. He just smiled. "Upstairs." Okay. I hadn't gone upstairs my last time here, but that seemed fine. "You want to break some cash?" he asked, gesturing at a box in front of himself. There was no harm, so I turned a ten into singles, and then went further into the bar. There were more than a few guys in leather, which definitely turned my crank, but mostly the room was filled with stocky guys with beards. I went and ordered a beer, and then found a spare spot against one of the walls - all the stools and booths were taken - and settled down to drink and a look around. I spotted some hot guys. Most of them at least a decade my elder, I figured, but it was fun to look. One, at the bar stool with a friend, was a wide-shouldered bearded guy whose sleeveless black shirt showed off the impressive amount of dark hair that trailed all the way up his forearms and a bit above his elbows - and the arms themselves were thick with muscle. On the back of his shirt, I could barely make out his number, and was considering finding a "warden" to send him a note when he turned and saw me staring at him. My face went beet red and I turned away, tipping my bottle back and feeling stupid. When I finally got up the nerve to look up again, he was still looking at me - and beside him, his friend (who kind of reminded me of Mr. Clean - bald head, big chest, tight white shirt) leaned in and said something, and they both laughed. I looked away again, studiously avoiding looking back until I was done my beer. By that point, they had moved-on. I sighed. "Should have sent a message," I muttered. Beside me, someone said, "Which one?" I turned. The guy leaning against the wall to my left was looking at me, waiting for my answer. He was taller than me (not difficult) and had a neatly trimmed beard, a ball cap on, and a khaki green t-shirt. He was pretty fit, though he was thick enough in the middle to more-or-less be a bear. "The one with the beard," I admitted. He nodded. "Hot guy." He offered his hand, and introduced himself as Steve. "You been to a Jail and Bail before?" I shook my head. "Nope." "Well, I'm pretty sure the jailer took them both off to jail. They'll be back out in a little while, if they want." "Oh," I said, sure I was blushing again. "Did you catch his number?" Steve asked, smiling. I nodded. "Thirty eight." "Hang on," Steve said, and pushed away from the wall. "Be right back." I watched him move through the crowd, approaching a guy in a dark blue cop-like uniform with mirror-shades and lean over to ask him something. The guy looked at a clipboard, and nodded. Steve handed him some money, and came back bearing a small handfull of paper slips and two pencils, saying "I was right. Number thirty eight is upstairs in jail. Here," he said, handing one of them to me. "Write him a note for when he gets out." I laughed. "I have no idea what to say." Steve smiled. "Tell him you want him to maul you." I laughed again. "Oh my God." Steve's eyebrows rose, and he smiled mockingly. "But that's what you want, isn't it?" "Right," I said, shaking my head. "I could never write that. Oh my God." He tapped his pencil against his lip. "Tell me the truth. You're a chaser, right?" I'd heard the term before, of course. Bear chasers - guys who liked bears, who weren't bears. I nodded. "Yep." "I take it I don't measure up?" he said, with another mocking smile. I blushed. "Oh, no. I mean... You're really nice!" He laughed, and shoved my shoulder. "Don't worry about it. I'm probably almost as big a bottom as you are." He raised an eyebrow. "You're totally a bottom, right?" I blushed. Laughed. Nodded. He nodded. "Of course. Well, I think you should just be honest. Tell him you want his big ol' beardick up your butt, as soon as possible, please and thank you." I shook my head. "You're awful." "But that's not what you want?" he asked. I rolled my eyes. "Well, I guess you're right: it's totally what I want." Steve's smile was smug. "What are you going to write, then?" I thought about it. "I suppose I could ask him if he liked guys like me?" "Bottom sluts?" Steve asked. I shoved him. "Little guys." "You calling me fat?" He narrowed his eyes. I laughed again. Steve was fun, and I definitely felt more comfortable now that I had someone to chat with. "No. But so many guys like him don't like guys like me." Steve nodded. "Fair enough. Go with that. Only don't be so high school. Try... 'Any chance you'd be interested in the naughty boy next door?' or something like that. Something not so bland." He waved a hand. What the hell, I thought. It wasn't likely the bearded stud was, so what did I have to lose? I wrote down his message, put the number thirty eight at the top of the note, and my own number at the bottom. I also added, 'Didn't mean to stare earlier, but couldn't help it!' for good measure. Steve was writing some messages of his own, and glancing up to look at numbers as guys walked by. I admired his confidence. When he was done, he held out his hand, and I reluctantly gave him the paper. I felt my own confidence drying up. "Back in a sec." He left, handed the papers to one of the wardens, and came back with two beers. We clinked bottles and drank, Steve nudging me every time a bear walked by that he found attractive - he liked them even bigger than I did, I realized pretty quickly. I spotted thirty eight a few minutes later, and saw him looking around. When he glanced out way, I turned my head to face Steve, feeling my face burn up, but Steve raised his bottle in the thirty eight's direction. "Stop it," I hissed. Steve laughed. "Oh shut up. He's smiling." "He is?" I asked, and turned to look. Thirty eight met my gaze and was smiling, yes, but I wasn't sure it was entirely just friendly. Yow. Was it just me, or did he almost seem... hungry? I shivered, and looked back at Steve. "Oh wow." "Yeah, he's definitely enjoying the view." "Now what?" Steve laughed. "I guess that's up to him." I got my answer a few minutes later, when a jailer walked up to me. They were really playing up their role - there was no smile on the man's face, and he was all business as he handed me a small folded piece of paper. "You have a letter, prisoner." I grinned, and took the paper. I looked down first, and saw that it was from number thirty eight. Then I looked at the message. "See you in a few," it said. I blinked. "You're coming with me," the jailer said. "Pardon?" I asked. "You've been found guilty," he said, showing me a twenty dollar bill, which he tucked into the front pocket of his shirt. I laughed. I was being sent to jail! The warden took my arm - I laughed a little nervously - and he led me towards the stairs. "Drop the soap!" Steve called out. I felt my face turn beet red. As I passed number thirty eight, I couldn't help but glance at him. He nodded and smiled - that same deep smile that made my whole body shiver. I was just about at the stairs when I saw another jailor stop by him, and take him by the arm. The "jail" wasn't the entire second floor, I realized. Once we were at the top of the stairs, the jailer led me across the dance floor - I hadn't known there was one - and to the back wall of the bar, where there was a long chain that had been fixed to both sides of an opening. The jailer pulled out his little clip-board, wrote down my number, and checked the time on a glow-in-the-dark clock that was beside the opening. Beyond the open doorway there was another wall - it seemed to be a hallway running perpendicular to the open doorway - like the way some bathrooms didn't have doors, but blocked the view of what was inside. He reached out an unhooked the chain. "Your sentence is for fifteen minutes. You can bribe yourself out at any time." He gave me a little shove, and I stepped through into the "jail" area just as number thirty eight came into view behind across the dance floor. "Enter the cell," my jailer said. With a quick glance behind me at thirty eight, I walked left around the wall that formed the barrier to the jail. As soon as I rounded the corner I realized that the "jail" was a dressed up backroom. It was larger than I expected, a rectangular room with very dim lighting (the bulbs were red) and inside I could see men in various states of nudity moving or standing. One guy was completely naked while another was on his knees in front of him, giving him a blow job. A few were just making out. And in the furthest corner, there was a bear who was definitely fucking another bear who he had pinned against the corner, if the motion of the bear's hairy ass was any clue. I froze. A couple of the people looked up as I came around the corner, though most were just watching the shows all ready in progress. I'd never been anywhere like this, had never seen - or smelled - anything like this. The place smelled like sweat and salt... I shivered. Fifteen minutes? Oh my god - they were having sex in front of me.... That's when a hand took my shoulder, and I nearly yelped. I turned, shaking, and saw thirty eight beside me. "Hey," he said, and leaned in very close to me. Up close, I could see that he was older than I'd guessed, but that he was definitely in good shape for his age. His beard had a few threads of grey in it, and he was way taller than I'd thought. I had to tilt my head a little as he stepped towards me, and backed up on reflex. His hand still held my shoulder. I hit the wall with a bump, and he smiled down at me, closing the gap a little further. Oh my god, I was in a back room with him. "Hi," I said. It came out a little squeaky. He leaned in close, and his beard tickled my ear as he spoke. "Your friend was right. You're shy." I blinked. "My friend?" "Yeah. Your friend. He sent me a message. Said you were too shy to ask for what you really wanted." He was pressing his chest against mine now, and unbidden, my hands came up and sort of awkwardly gripped his waist. He leaned back a bit, meeting my gaze. Steve. Steve had sent him a message. Oh. My. God. I guess he could tell when it clicked. He smiled, and his teeth were a little eerie in the red light. He leaned back in again, pressing the whole of his body against mine, moving his bearded mouth to my ear again, so close I could feel the warmth of his breath. "Something about a big ol' beardick, and your naughty boy butt?" My whole body shivered, and he had to have felt it. Also, my cock got rock hard, and I knew he could feel that, since he'd pressed one of his legs between mine. More to the point, I could feel his own dick against my stomach, even through his jeans and my shirt, and holy shit, I couldn't believe any of it. "Oh," I said, and then his tongue flicked my ear, and I repeated myself while my whole body shook. "Oh!" "Turn around," he said. I was shaking, but when he took my shoulders and pulled me, I obeyed, turning around to face the wall. I pressed my forehead against the cooler stone, breathing heavily. When his body leaned back against me, his hard on was all the more obvious. His held my shoulder with one hand, and the other rubbed against the back of my neck, then up the side of my face, cupping my cheek for a second before he pushed his thumb into my mouth. I sucked it. He chuckled. "Yeah, you are a naughty boy, aren't ya?" I sucked again. He laughed. He pulled his thumb from my mouth and slide his hands down my arms, taking my wrists and then pulling my hands up and placing my palms against the cool stone wall. His hands pressed enough for me to realize he was telling me to stay put, then his hands slid back down my sides, gripping my waist and tugging me a bit, until I took a step back, arching my back and leaning against the wall. "That's right," he said, nudging his thigh between my legs. "Spread 'em." I shivered. My eyes were closed tight, even though I couldn't have seen anything but the wall in front of me had I opened them. "Stay," he said, and then his hands were working my belt, my button, and my zipper. My entire body jerked as he pulled my jeans and underwear down, just far enough to expose my ass and set my cock free - my hard on sprung free to attention. Oh my god. I was showing my ass to a whole room full of people. What was wrong with me? Then he crouched behind me, and his bearded mouth pushed between my ass cheeks. I gasped, grunted, and pushed back against his mouth. I could feel him laugh into my pucker, and his tongue made some broad strokes against my hole. Nothing makes me hornier than a mouth - especially a bearded mouth - eating my ass. His rough hands kneaded my ass cheeks, and he tugged at my jeans a bit more, pulling them a bit further down my thighs, and then dove back into my ass with his tongue. He ground his face into my hole, and I groaned and moaned - I was biting my lip to make as little noise as possible, but it was so hard when his tongue was drilling into me. He pulled back, and it was everything in my power not to whimper. He spat. Once, twice, three times. Globs of hot saliva hit my pucker, and he used his rough fingers to rub it around my hole before sliding a finger in. The groan escaped me before I could hold it back, and then he spat again, repeating the process twice more. Then he rose, and I heard the unmistakable sound of his zipper behind me. Only when he pressed his dick against me did I realized he wasn't wearing a condom, and that the spit was all the lube I was about to receive. One hand on my waist, I felt him adjust his dick and then push into me with a long, slow, thrust. I grunted and shifted in front of him, rising on my toes a bit, and then he was buried inside me. "Fuck that's nice, boy," he said, and his other hand rested on the back of my neck. He fucked me in short, hard thrusts, and it was obvious from the first thrust that this would be fast and rough. I shoved back onto his dick in counterpoint, and his grunts matched my own. God I wanted this! His dick was hot inside me, and the spit wasn't the greatest lube, but the feel of his cock made me crazy, and my semi-prone position against the wall seemed perfectly suited to him. He fucked me for minutes that felt like forever and not nearly long enough, until he tightened his grip on the back of my neck, and shoved in as hard and as deep as he could and blew a hot load of spunk up inside me. The sensation was too much. Before he could pull out, I jerked my dick frantically with one hand, bracing my forearm against the wall, and felt my own cum spray out in a fan across the brick wall. No doubt it wasn't the first load to dry there. We stood there panting a moment, and then he pulled out. I felt his load hot against my thigh, and heard him zipping up behind me. I shook, then slowly pushed off from the wall. By the time I got up the guts to turn around, he'd left. More than a few eyes of the men were watching me, many of them with their dicks in hand. I felt a flush of pleasure at being the object of their attention, especially given how many of them were bears. I pulled up my pants and underwear, not bothering to try to stop the cum leaking from my ass, and got out of jail.

Just got home from a (fairly) early night at the pub. Upstairs in the darker dance area, danced back into a corner with a nice bear type, turned around, rubbed my butt against him and made it obvious, and said, "just gonna head to the bathroom if you need me." He followed me in about three seconds after I went in - ha! - and I got what I was craving, which was a bare bear dick and a nice load before I had to go home and go to bed for work tomorrow... Still sticky.

Crap. Maybe they're too old now? I've been working on a different story and let this one slide. I'll repost the whole thing in one go when I do the next part, I guess...

I wasn’t the only bunny looking sweaty and sore – the green bunny’s ass was still quite red, and I wondered if he’d somehow gotten hunted by two men in a row who’d wanted to spank him. There was time enough to grab a drink, and I swallowed the beer greedily, wanting to sate my thirst and trying to ignore how badly I wanted to jerk off. “Okay,” the bald and bearded host raised his hand again. “Last free hunt before the big finale. Everyone can hunt this time.” I had no idea what “free” meant. The host led us again out from the great room, this time into the back yard and down to one of the two smaller outbuildings. Once inside, I realized it was some sort of studio now, given the canvases and easels and the cabinets of paint and brushes. Once in the studio, we got our eggs from the host again and the bunnies took a quick look around. I wondered how the twelve men were all going to fit in here, let alone hunt around the room without stumbling over each other. I settled for putting my egg in the small space formed between two leaning canvases against a wall, and joined the host and the other bunnies outside as they found places for their eggs. The host led us back to the main room, and said, “We’ll be back in a bit,” with a lewd grin, and led the men out into the night. “Your ass looks so sore,” the yellow bunny said to the green bunny. “The big black guy really likes to spank butt,” he said in reply, but he was grinning. There was time enough for us to each nibble a bit of the food before the noise outside made it obvious they were returning. We gathered together near the fireplace, and the host led the men into the room. It was obvious from the grins and smirks on the faces of half the men who’d found eggs. It was the guy who’d reminded me of Mr. Clean who walked up to me, white egg in hand. Earlier he’d said, “You’ll do.” I guess I was about to find out. He was stocky, with a shaved head, and behind his black leather mask his eyes were a pale grey-blue. Once again he hooked his thick arm around my neck, and gave me a rough squeeze. And up the stairs we went. * We’d barely made it through the door before his arm released my neck just long enough to shove me, hard, in the middle of my back. I stumbled forward and barely managed to stay on my feet as he closed the door behind him, turn around, and started to undo his belt. “On your hands and knees,” he said. I obeyed, wondering which slip of paper had belonged to this man. Was this one of the men who’d wanted some foot worship, maybe? Had I checked that off? I couldn’t remember, and between the first two men I’d been with – and the completely lack of opportunity for me to blow my own load – I was horny, confused, scared, and nearly blind with the urge to get off. He walked around me, and with no warning, his booted foot pressed up between my legs, pushing my aching balls tight against my stomach as he lifted. I shifted, trying to raise a little on my toes, but he simply raised his leg higher, and soon it was all I could do to balance on my hands and the tips of my toes while he bore my weight on the front of his boot – and my balls and dick in the jockstrap – making me cringe and wince. The shove to the left made me topple, and I rolled over onto my side. When I looked up at him, he nodded once, and used his boot again to push me all the way over onto my back. I lay there on the floor, looking up at him, as he unzipped his jeans and tugged out a thick, uncut cock. He left his vest on, and those pale eyes regarded me with a kind of cold amusement. He lifted his booted foot again, and lowered it onto my jock. I braced myself as he started to rub the treads on sole of the boot up and down a bit on the cloth of the jock, my hard dick rubbing against the cloth, my stomach, and the pressure of his foot. Sure enough, he pressed down harder. And harder. I bit my lip, tilting my head back and moaning as what began with a light rub moved to something that felt closer to a hand-job, and then moved past that into something approaching pain. He leaned forward, putting real pressure on my cock and balls, and all but ground his booted foot into my crotch. I yelped and tried to pull away, and he smirked down at me, holding me in pace with one powerful leg. When I peered up at him with eyes filling with tears, I saw he was stroking himself leisurely. "Yeah,” he said. “You’ll do.” There was one more bounce of pressure and then he removed his foot, stepping back. “Up on your feet,” he said. Easier said than done. The burning ache in my balls and cock made it harder to get up than I’d imagined. I rocked onto my side, then slowly managed to get back upright. He nodded when I was standing, and reached out with one hand to cup my jock. His squeeze – even though it was gentle – made me jolt, somewhere between fear and apprehensive arousal. The smile he gave me let me know that was exactly what he was looking for. He pulled away, and ordered me to give him the jockstrap, which I did, sliding it down – my dick already half-hard again, despite the abuse (or maybe because of it) – and he nodded. He turned me around, and used the jock to loosely pull my wrists together behind my back. Then he turned me back again, shoved me into the wall, covered my mouth with his and gripped my balls with one hand so tightly I pretty much screamed into his mouth. His dick was rock hard against my stomach. Both hands began to alternate between tugging, twisting, and squeezing my balls and the shaft of my cock. Most of the time, he seemed to want to swallow my response – his mouth pretty much covered mine the entire time – but now and then he’d lean back, let me catch my breathe, and say, “Not a sound.” I’d nod, and then desperately try to obey while he squeezed or twisted or tugged until I was biting my lip and my eyes were clenched closed with the effort to stay silent. Then he’d shove me back against the wall, and grind his cock into my stomach while his hands continued to assault my balls and dick with relentless strength. Tears spilled from my eyes – he licked at them – cries escaped my mouth – he filled my mouth with his tongue – and always his fingers tugged, twisted, pinched, and pulled. Finally, after what felt like hours – but couldn’t have been, since there was no bell from downstairs – he shoved me again, pushing me against the wall and stepping back a half-step, and then forced me down onto my knees. Dick in hand, he jerked over me until thick ropes of his cum sprayed across my face, chest, and upper thighs. He nodded down at me, taking in deep breaths while I did the same. My balls and cock felt like they’d swollen to twice their size, though when I looked down I saw that while incredibly reddened, he’d obviously learned a thing or two about how to handle a guy’s dick without truly harming it. I was shaking. He took my chin and tilted my head up. I met his gaze. “You did good, boy,” he said. The bell sounded. It took me a while to get up and to pull the jockstrap from my wrists. I had to wipe myself off, and then left my room with a wider-stance to my walk than I was used to – the jock-strap now felt all the more confining with my reddened, man-handled skin. I was the second-last to come down the stairs, followed by the green bunny, who was pretty much limping, his ass obviously having now been plowed after his earlier spanking session. He gave me a gamey smile though, and I found myself nodding at him. It felt almost like being drunk, or high. Once again, all the men and bunnies had gathered in the main room. It was so late now, and the obvious smells of sweat and spunk were heavy in the room. It seemed like everyone had a drink in hand – I grabbed one of the offered red-bulls and swallowed it down without really tasting it, and felt it hit my stomach with a cold rush. “Okay,” the bald and bearded host said. “Last hunt. This time we’re going to give the bunnies a bit of influence, like we did two years ago –“ that got a big smile from most of the men in the room “- and so we’ll go with the baskets. They’re in the kitchen.” He turned to us, and smiled, saying “You’ll find a basket for each of the men present, with the colored slips you filled out attached – one per basket. You’ll also find that most of their baskets already have your eggs inside them – after each hunt, your eggs were pulled out of the baskets of the men you’ve already had fun with.” Here he seemed to meet my gaze, and I felt my dick lurch in my jockstrap. “You’re going to be given more eggs – and the eggs they took out – and you’re going to add them to the basket or baskets of your choice. Each man will draw an egg from his basket.” The bunnies nodded, though I saw the one in the red jock frowning a bit. “What if no one pulls out a red egg?” he asked. It hadn’t occurred to me, but it was a good point. Also, they doubled our number, so a duplicate was inevitable. “We’ll get to that if it happens.” I was about to ask about the duplicate, but the bunny in the green jock said, “Let’s go!” and the bald bearded host laughed and directed us to the kitchen, and showed us the pile of plastic eggs on the counter, then left. I picked up my half-dozen white eggs and looked at the dozen baskets – and then remembering my ex-daddy bear’s note – looked at the basket that had the blue piece of paper on it. I lifted the cloth that covered the basket’s contents. There was already one white egg in there. I hadn’t been with him yet. I put all the rest of my eggs in the basket that had the blue slip of paper attached to it, and then stepped back. “Well, we know who you want,” the green bunny laughed, popping his eggs in all the baskets that didn’t already have a green egg in them. I felt myself blushing, and nodded. “You’ve done this before,” I said. He nodded at me while the other bunnies took their turns. The red bunny was really taking his time. “What happens if we get drawn multiple times?” He smiled and winked. “Why do you think I put my eggs all over the place?” I was about to ask him what he meant, but the red bunny said, “we’re done!” and the bald bearded host returned. I guess I was about to find out. *

That's sort of what I mean - what would you like to see listed as options on those checklists?

Still working on it. Any requests? I can't likely please everyone, but you may come up with things I wouldn't have thought about. If you were making a list of things to put on those little colored slips, what would you want on there?

I'm glad you're all enjoying. I have an idea for the end that I think you'll all like. Playing around with randomness and so on...

Glad you enjoyed!

(Second Egg hunt)... Back in the room again, the hairy bear wasted no time, and pushed hard on my shoulders the moment we were through the door. I dropped to my knees in front of him, and he undid his jeans, pulling out an uncut dick that was already half-hard. He grinned down at me, his teeth white against the black of his beard. I leaned forward to put his cock in my mouth, already eager, but he surprised me by giving my face a not-so-gentle slap. I leaned back, startled, and he shook his head. “Hang on, boy,” he said, and then pulled the egg from his vest pocket. I’d forgotten. He opened the plastic egg. “Eyes down,” he said. I looked at the man’s booted feet. I heard him shuffle through the papers and then he chuckled. A moment later I heard him snap the egg shut again, putting it on the chest of drawers, and his hand rested on the top of my head. I looked back up. “Open wide, boy,” he said, and I opened my mouth. He fucked my face for a few minutes, jabbing his dick deep into the back of my mouth and making me gag with every third or fourth thrust, and soon his dick had hardened – he was a grower, and had more inches on him than I’d imagined. My forehead brushed against his hairy stomach every time he really drove his cock into my mouth. His dick was soon wet with spit. My eyes filled with tears, but my dick was rock hard in my jockstrap. He knocked the white bunny ears off my head with his forceful jabs. I was gripping his legs to maintain balance. Finally, after I could taste his precome mixed with the flood of saliva in my mouth, he pulled back, and nodded his head at the bed. “On the bed. All fours, boy. Daddy’s hungry for your ass.” I rose shakily, my dick straining the jock, and moved to the bed, crawling onto it and putting my sore butt into the air. There was still a slick wetness in my pucker from the blond man’s reaming – the remnants of his lube and spunk – and I wasn’t sure what the hairy daddy would think of it. He climbed onto the bed behind me, and then his bearded mouth devoured my ass. There’s no other word for it – his tongue, his rough beard, occasionally his teeth – he seemed to want to eat me from the inside-out. I bucked against him as his thick hot tongue dove deep into my hole, and his slurping and loud wet noises made me moan. His tongue circled, then speared, then his rough beard was rubbing and scratching at my sore hole – then his tongue again, licking and lapping up his own spit and the mix of lube and cum – then a sudden unexpected bite on one ass cheek or the other. His hands sometimes pulled my ass more open, other times pressed my cheeks together for him to nibble or lick. I’d never had my ass eaten like this before, and I was in heaven – except I was also in hell, because the thing about having my hole assaulted with his tongue and teeth and beard was that it was making me crazy for him to fuck me. “Oh.. please... oh!” I was gasping between the lashings of his tongue. I squirmed, pressed back against his incredible bearded mouth, and twisted under his assault, barely managing to stay upright on my hands and knees. His rough hands massaged, squeezed and groped at my ass, and I could feel the pouch of my jock getting wet with what seemed like a river of spit that was flowing from my ass. He pulled back just a little. “Please, what?” he said. He sounded amused. “Please!” I gasped, at first only able to think of the word itself, “Please fuck me!” He rubbed a single rough finger against my spit-slick pucker, and I groaned. “Please!” I repeated. He laughed, asking “You think that’s enough spit, boy? ‘Cause that’s all you’re getting.” That made me realize he was the yellow paper. The one where one of the options was “Spit for lube.” I bucked my ass back against his finger, and whined. “Please!” I asked again. He rose long enough to shuck his jeans and boots, spat twice more onto my ass, and then pressed his long dick against my ass. He ground into me with a long, slow spiral as he pushed, and moved first one hand, then the other, to grip the jockstrap where it ran across the small of my back. He started to fuck me in earnest once his dick was buried in my ass, twisting the strap in his hands to tighten the jockstrap and keep a firm grip on me. My mouth opened and I let out a long, low, stream of relief at the feel of his cock inside me. “Fuck!” I gasped. He grunted, and rode my ass, his hairy stomach soon wet with sweat and pressing against my back with every thrust. He towered over me, shifting his legs and pressing into me at alternating angles, making me writhe and buck beneath him. His grip never lessened, and the daddy’s spit began to wear a bit thin in my ass, burning a bit as sharp sweat and friction took its place. His thrusts grew harder and faster, and the daddy bear began to grunt with each forward shove of his dick. With my hands braced against the headboard now, I pushed back against him, moaning catching my breath between each thrust and feeling his cock in my already abused hole growing thicker and hotter. My head drooped. “You want my load, boy? You want daddy’s seed?” The words were electricity. “Yes!” I begged, “Yes!” He shoved forward, burying his dick as deep as he could, and blew his wad inside me. The heat of him was once again a flood of relief in my ass, and tears sprang to my eyes as he pressed down hard overtop me, grinding his dick in a circle inside me. He stayed in me, breathing heavily for a few minutes, then pulled out. He let go of my jockstrap and it unwound back to something more comfortable – though the pouch was incredibly restrictive against my rock-hard dick. “Come here,” he growled, and I awkwardly turned on the bed. He was resting back on his haunches, his half-hard dick up in the air, covered in spunk and sweat. “Lick it clean, boy,” he said. I nodded, and crawled to him, putting his cock in my mouth and licking and slurping at his load. He had a strong taste – sweaty, salty, and a thick consistency – and I licked up and down his shaft, surprised to feel him getting hard again as I worked to clean off his cock. When I reached down to free my cock from the jockstrap, he pulled his dick from my mouth and slapped me a second time. I froze. “No, boy, you don’t get to come,” he said. My whole body ached, but I nodded, and went back to sucking his cock. Eventually, still slurping and licking at his now clean cock, the bell rang downstairs. The daddy slapped his wet dick against my face once, then rose. He pulled his jeans and boots back on – he’d never taken off the vest, and scooped up the egg on his way out. I rose more shakily, feeling cum had leaked from my ass down my thighs, and wiped myself down for a second time. My ass felt used – I was sore, and two strangers had already come inside me. I shivered at what I was doing here, and remembered the daddy bear’s words. “You want daddy’s seed?” I picked up my bunny ears, popped them on my head, and went downstairs, my dick still hard in the jock, horny and wishing I could just jerk off and find release.

(The Eggs, and the First Hunt...) The reference to "my ex-daddybear" is a link to this story: https://breeding.zone/threads/11848-Ex-Daddybear-s-Goodbye-Gift "Easter Egg Hunt" The package I got was so obviously from my ex-Daddybear that I stopped cold in the middle of the mailroom, holding the key to the larger parcel boxes that the mailman used to deliver oversized mail to the building. I hadn’t spoken to him since he’d arranged a goodbye for me that had played on some of my darkest urges and fantasies, and I’d figured we’d never speak again. He’d opened my eyes to so many things before he’d moved to the west coast, not the least of which was an enjoyment of rough sex – especially blindfolded. And raw. And blindfolded. And tied up.... I shivered, looking at the package. It was a tube, like the last time. I put the key back in the mailbox and went upstairs to my apartment, and didn’t let myself think before I tore open the end of the tube. His handwriting hadn’t changed, but this tube wasn’t anything like the last two. They’d had posters which basically were a menu for me to pick someone to come and fuck me. I still got a shiver deep in my gut thinking about those times when I’d allowed complete strangers – complete strangers with no idea of their status – to fuck me. I’d been tied up and blindfolded, even. This tube, though, was full of quite a few slips of paper of various colours – at least a dozen - and a larger sheet that seemed to be instructions and directions, a red marker, and his note. His note was simple: “Was invited to this, but can’t go. It reminded me of you, so I scored you an invitation. Definitely your thing. Have fun, boy, and don’t check off anything I wouldn’t do. I hope you get the blue one – I think you’d be perfect together. I took the liberty of already making some choices for you.” Beneath that, there was a P.S. “Have you called those numbers yet?” I shivered. I hadn’t. I still had the poster, though, with the numbers of the four guys who I’d been asked to “choose from” (I’d had two of them fuck me.) They weren’t sure of their statuses, and I’d been a nervous wreck when I’d gone for testing. But I was negative still. The large sheet of paper was an invitation to an Easter egg hunt. I blinked. That couldn’t be right. What the hell? I read it again. No, it was an Easter egg hunt. Then I looked at the instructions, and my caught my breathe. “Each slip of paper relates to one of the partners you may be paired with throughout the Easter egg hunt. Choose options that appeal to you from each slip of paper. As always, this event will be anonymous, and random. Use the self-addressed return envelope to return all slips of paper with your selections.” The note went on to explain timelines – if they hadn’t heard from me by the end of two weeks, I’d be eliminated, and one of the back-ups would be put in my place. I looked at the pieces of coloured paper – I was searching for the blue – and picked it up and looked at it. It was basically a list of options. Sex options. It said: “I am open to...” and then was followed by a list of choices with little check-boxes beside them. Some of the individual options had been completely blacked out – some of the papers were actually nearly entirely blacked out, it seemed – but a glance at the other pieces of paper showed me that it was different on each coloured piece of paper, but the master list was the same for all of them, in the same order. I was starting to get it – these were the things the other guys were into, and I was basically telling them what I was into from the list of what they liked. What I’d be willing to do. I swallowed. The blue paper had the following options to choose from, each with an empty box beside them: Being blindfolded. Being face-fucked. Being fingered. Being fisted. Being fucked. Being fucked without lube. Being gagged. Being rimmed. Being spanked. Being sucked. Being handcuffed or otherwise having my hands tied. Rimming you. Rough sex. Sucking your cock. Swallowing your load. Swallowing your piss. Taking verbal abuse. Taking watersports (anal). I couldn’t help but notice that one option had already been checked off. I shivered when I glanced down at the other pieces of paper, and saw the red ink mark beside the same option on all the slips of paper. The option that was checked off – on all of the slips - was “Being fucked raw (Status unimportant).” I could barely breathe. My dick was rock hard. I opened the pen, and picked up the next piece of paper. I’d mailed off the dozen pieces of coloured paper in the envelope provided. Part of me wanted to contact my former daddy bear and ask him how he’d even heard of this “event” but we hadn’t spoken or e-mailed since that last night, and it felt wrong, somehow, to want to hear his voice without being tied up, freshly fucked, and having anonymous cum leaking out of my ass. What had surprised me had been how arousing it had been to fill in the little slips of paper. It wasn’t that I hadn’t agreed with my ex-daddy bear – the blue slip of paper sounded just up my alley – it was that some of the others were intriguing. None were misses – there hadn’t been a single slip of paper I hadn’t wanted to check something off on, and that made my insides almost liquid with a mix of shame and desire. Swallowing my spit. Being flogged. Taking dildos (select size: small, medium, large, extra-large). Tit torture. Taking ecstasy. Being choked. There were things I hadn’t tried, hadn’t done, and some of them made me stop and shiver, just to think about them. But always: Being fucked raw, with the checkmark already entered by my former lover. By the time Easter long-weekend rolled around, I was a mess of nerves, but even thinking about the little slips of paper made me rock hard. I’d had to step into the bathroom at work and beat off at least once a day just to get through the work day, and my co-workers kept asking me if there was something wrong. I seemed distracted, they said. “Just have plans for the weekend,” I said. Such a bland way to describe it. The reality loomed in the back of my mind: I wouldn’t know anyone at this party. I’d received the follow-up “package” – a map and address with my invitation and a wrist-band like the ones you got at bars. It was an overnight event, and I would need to bring only a change of clothes. Drink and food was included. At the end of the short letter there was a reiteration of the terms. Words kept coming back to mind. Anonymous. Random. And always, my ex-daddy bear’s extra notation: Being fucked raw. The address was for a place quite a way outside of the city, at an address a bit away from one of the nearby small towns, and I’d had to work out a way to get there. I’d called in a favor with a friend to be dropped off at a spot close enough to walk the last bit of the gap, and I’d get picked back up in the small town at the diner the next day. Just in case, I’d bring my cell, of course. The drive there was nerve-wracking, and I had to keep up my pretense with my friend that I was looking forward to a weekend dinner with friends. When he dropped me off and pulled away, I shouldered my backpack and started the walk in the cool night air, glancing down at the map once to make sure I was going in the right direction. The address turned out to be a big farmhouse that had obviously been remodeled and modernized and sold for the view of the river. The barn still stood, as did two other small outbuildings – one of which looked to have been converted into a garage. As I walked up, I was aware of the cars lined up along the driveway and the side of the road, and felt my stomach clenching in nervous pulses. I pulled out my wristband and snapped it on as I started up the driveway. I was obviously one of the last to arrive, though still well before the time listed on the invitation. When I knocked on the door, it opened after a moment, and I looked up at one of the burlier guys I’d seen. He had a shaved head, and a dark black beard, and a leather face-mask. He was wearing jeans and a black leather vest, and the dark hair that spread across his chest made my dick thicken in my own jeans. He looked down at my wrist band, and nodded. “Glad you could make it,” he said, and stepped aside. I stepped inside. “Follow me – we’ll get you ready to be a bunny,” he said. I wasn’t entirely sure what he meant by that, but I followed him into a small cloak room. He took my back and checked my wristband again, then opened up a plastic bag with a matching wristband on it. From the bag he pulled out a white face-mask, a jockstrap – it had a white fluffy bunny-tail attached to the strap at the back – and a pair of fuzzy bunny ears. I couldn’t help it. I laughed. He nodded. “Cute, eh?” I took them. My hands were shaking. "Go ahead and get changed,” he said. He made no move to leave. I felt myself blushing as I stripped off my clothes and he took each piece and put it into the bag. He watched me as I shed my clothes, and smiled – his teeth were very white in his beard – as I stepped into my “bunny tail” jockstrap and then tied on the mask and put on my ears. “I think the white rabbit is going to be a popular hunt,” the big man said. “Pardon?” I asked. He just laughed. “Come on,” he said, and opened the door. “You’re the last one here.” The group was gathered in a large great-room that bordered an open kitchen in the large house. There were about a dozen men in masks like the guy who opened the door – all of them older, with bodies that were variances of burly and big and strong, but only five other bunnies like me – each of which, I realized, were mostly built like me – slimmer, younger, though I noticed one bunny – who had a red mask, jock and ears (we each had a different coloured set, I noticed) was more of an otter type – hairy and bearded. The group was mixing, most had drinks or food and were laughing and talking. The bunnies were moving around, often getting groped by the older men in the crowd. I swallowed. “Grab a drink and some dinner,” the black-bearded man said, and then he went into the crowd to talk to a tall bear of a man who had definitely seen the inside of a gym once or twice, judging by his thick arms. I wondered which man belonged to the blue slips of paper. A hand stroked my ass as I got a beer from the cooler, and I turned, blushing, to see a large black man grinning at me. “Aren’t you pretty,” he said, and winked behind his mask. “Thanks,” I said, feeling my stomach clench. The air was a bit cool on my skin, and wearing only a jockstrap – and ridiculous bunny ears – in front of these guys was a bit overwhelming. The black man’s thick chest was stubbled with short hair, and he wore a very trim goatee. He was built like a fireplug, not very tall, but damned wide. “This your first egg hunt?” he asked. “Yeah,” I replied. He smiled and advised me “Have fun. I’ll make sure to keep an eye out for the white eggs.” I laughed nervously, and he stepped away. I took a swallow of my beer, and started to fill a plate with some carrots and dip. I was too nervous to eat anything else. A few more of the masked men stopped to talk to me – and most of them touched me in some way. One of them, a guy who reminded me of Mr. Clean of all things, hooked his thick arm around me and pulled me right against him and squeezed tight for a second before saying, “Yeah, you’ll do” and letting go. I was so nervous I couldn’t even finish the damned carrots. My beer, however, was long gone. Finally, the guy who’d opened the door moved to the middle of the floor and raised his hand. One by one, the conversations fell quiet. Outside, the sun was dipping on the horizon. “Okay,” the big man said. “We’re all set up for four hunts tonight, and we’ll go in two hour increments. I hope no one was thinking of sleeping much.” Everyone had a laugh at that, and I saw some of the other bunnies glance at the ground. “Hell no!” a man whose arms were both sleeved with tattoos called out. “If this is your first hunt, then let me explain how it works. If you’ve done this before, you know the rules. In each place, there are six eggs hidden for you to hunt for, which means there’ll be six winners for each bunny.” More noise as people clapped or hooted. “If you win in the first round, then you don’t participate in the second. Third and fourth are open. You can’t repeat a bunny, so if you find an egg you’ve already found in a previous hunt, you’ll be asked to trade – except for the last round, where you can try to rejoin a favourite if you want. So if you’re a good hunter, you can score yourself three bunnies tonight.” More noise, more applause, more laughter. “Alright, bunnies, come with me.” There was much hollering and hooting as we followed the bearded man out the back sliding doors and down to the barn. Once there, he picked up a small basket and handed us each a dollar-store plastic egg. Mine was white, of course, and I saw the others had eggs that matched their jockstraps and bunny ears. The barn was set up with hay bales and lights, and boxes, cartons, old milk jugs – all sorts of places to tuck an egg to hide it. “You guys go ahead and hide them, and then come on out when you’re done.” He went outside. I exchanged glances with the other bunnies. Two of them were off like a shot, walking through the barn and looking around for places to hide their egg. The otter-type smiled at me and clapped my shoulder. “I was the white bunny last year,” he said. “First time, eh?” I nodded. “Yeah.” He grinned, and moved off. Finally, I started walking around the barn. I spied a shelf full of jars where preserves were probably stored, and not really having any idea what else I should do, I leaned down and tucked my egg out of obvious sight on the bottom shelf, behind one of the jars. By the time I’d hidden my egg, only the green bunny was still looking for a spot for his, and he joined me outside a few moments later. When we were all outside the barn again, the bearded man raised his hand, and the rest of the dozen men come out through the back of the house and joined us outside the barn doors. The bearded man grinned. “Let’s hunt,” he said, and opened the barn doors. I swallowed. There was something charged in the air as the men – all of them large and masculine – moved through the barn, obviously hunting and looking and poking through the nooks and crannies of the space. Amusingly, the green egg was the first one found – by the black man who’d spoken to me earlier – and he held it up and walked out of the barn and stepped behind the green bunny, wrapping both of his thick arms around the slim guy and pressing into him from behind. “Aren’t you pretty?” he said in his low voice. I suppose he just liked the word ‘pretty.’ The green bunny’s jock was obviously showing his pleasure at the turn of events. The red bunny and the yellow bunny were found, and then I watched as one of the men – a blond man with a wide, smooth chest beneath his black leather vest and thick, vascular arms crouch low before the shelves where I’d put my egg. My breath hitched as he reached in and pulled out the egg. A couple of moments later and he was standing right beside me, the egg in hand. “Hi,” I said, my voice wavering a little. He was very tall – I had to look up at him. He smiled. “Hey, boy.” The word ‘boy’ made me shiver from head to toe. I wondered if he was the blue paper match. In a short time, the rest of the eggs had been found – there was a rising growl of frustration from the men who hadn’t found any, and a brief tussle when the last egg had been found more or less at the same time by two men, but the one with the tattooed sleeves came out with it in hand. “Rooms are upstairs. I’ll ring the bell in an hour,” the bearded man said. He hadn’t found an egg this time, and he checked his watch. The big blond man who had found my egg put one hand between my shoulder blades, and gave me a bit of a push. I started walking back to the house. As we walked up the stairs, the big blond guy grabbed a backpack without even missing his stride. I assumed it was his. We went down the upstairs hallway until we got to the furthest door – it was marked with a white egg hung on the handle of the door, which was ajar. Behind me, I could hear the other pairs entering the other rooms, and I shivered as I went through the door. It was a spare bedroom, I assumed, given the plainness. There was a bed – a double – with a simple metal railing, a small desk and chair, a closet, and a chest of drawers. There was a small ensuite with a shower, too. I heard the door close behind me, and turned. The big blond man looked at the bed, and nodded. “Get naked,” he ordered. It’s not like I had much in the way of clothing to shed, but peeling off the jockstrap and tugging off my bunny ears made me shiver again. The mask stayed put – I knew that from the instructions – and I watched as he looked me up and down – smiling slightly at my already growing hard-on – and then he put the bag on the floor. “Turn around,” he said. I did, facing away from him. “Stay put, boy,” he said. I did. I heard him open the plastic egg, and then the sound of papers being shuffled through – I realized he was looking for his slip of paper where I’d answered the questions. But he didn’t want me to know which colour of paper was his – not that I could remember them all exactly, beyond the blue one and a few notable others. A few moments later, he grunted. “Okay,” he said. When I turned back around, I didn’t see the egg, or the papers. “On the bed, boy. On your back.” Again, I obeyed. He walked over, carrying his backpack, and sat on the bed beside me. He reached out and took my waist, shifting me bodily further up the bed, angling me along the length of it, and nodding once. Then he opened his backpacked, and out came restraints. Even this wasn’t enough to tell me which colour his paper had been, but when he pulled out four sets of handcuffs, I swallowed. I could feel my hands shaking as he took my wrists and bound them above my head – a pair of handcuffs on each wrist, attached to the iron railing behind me. When he took my left ankle next and snapped the handcuff around it, I let out a little gasp, and he met my gaze. “You like being cuffed up, don’t you, boy?” I nodded. “Yes.” He leaned forward, and took my hair in one rough hand, tugging it enough to make me gasp. “Yes, sir,” he said. “Yes, sir,” I repeated. He took my other ankle and fastened the last free handcuffs to them, but then surprised me by lifting me by the small of my back until I started to roll backwards on the bed, up onto my shoulders. It took me a second to realize what he was doing – and before I could really parse it, the handcuffs that were around my ankles were also fastened to the metal headboard. My legs were awkwardly bent, my ass just a little in the air, and my head sinking deep into the pillow. He took a few more moments to arrange me a bit better – he rolled the blanket up under me as a further boost to the small of my back, then nodded – almost to himself – before turning back to the bag. He pulled out a bottle of lube, and no less than four dildos. Two were of sizes comparable to a regular dick and were the usual pink plastic, the third would be on par with one of the largest cocks I’d ever had inside me and was bright red, and the fourth was incredibly big and thick and made of dark black rubber. It was bigger than any cock I’d ever had inside me, that was for sure. I bit my lip. He stripped then, pulling off the vest, his boots and jeans – he was going commando – and the same veiny muscles that he had on his forearms were present in his strong thighs. His cock was proportionate to him – big enough, thick enough, and uncut (a favorite of mine). He caught me looking at his dick and smirked. “Don’t worry, boy. You’ll get yours, but first I want to play with that hole.” “Yes, sir,” I said. He nodded. He poured some lube on his fingers, and rubbed and probed at my pucker. I flinched at the coolness of it, and he chuckled. He slicked up the first dildo as well – it was the smallest of the four - and then rubbed it against my hole. “You want that, boy?” “Yes, sir!” I said, a little louder than before. He smiled, and started to work the dildo in, asking “You like that, boy?” “Yes, sir!” He watched the dildo go into my hole with rapt attention, obviously enjoying himself as he inched it in slowly, rubbing it, twisting it, nudging it forward and then backward. I moaned when he increased the pace a little, despite myself, and he pushed the dildo in harder. “Yeah, boy likes that, doesn’t he?” I again agreed. He spent a little time with the smallest dildo, but it wasn’t long before he pulled it out and moved on to the second smallest. This time, he met my gaze while he held the head of the plastic cock at my hole. “You like taking cock in your hole, don’t you, boy?” “Yes, sir!” “You like it rough, too, don’t you boy?” “Yes, sir!” He shoved it in, hard, and I threw my head further back into the pillow. After the first dildo, it wasn’t so bad, but it was bigger, and he’d twisted as he’d pushed and I groaned with the sensation of the moulded plastic cock moving inside me. “Gotta get your hole ready, don’t we, boy?” “Yes, sir!” He fucked me with the dildo for a few minutes more, increasing the pace until I was biting my lip and moaning again. He shifted on the bed, kneeling between my spread legs, and I could see his own dick was hard. He definitely got off on how prone I was, how helpless I was to his toys. The third dildo was a bit more intimidating, and when he pulled the second one out, he pushed it into my mouth. I opened my lips, and he fucked my face with it for a few strokes, before pulling it back. When he did, the slicked up the third dildo – the larger red one – and met my gaze again. “You want it, don’t you, boy?” Again, I agreed. I did. I was incredibly hard now, and my shoulders and legs were burning a little with the uncomfortable position, but I was so turned on. The red dildo burned going in, and he was not gentle with making the whole length fit. He used more lube, but seemed to enjoy himself much more as the plastic cocks got larger. His veins stood out on his arms as he jabbed the dildo in and out of my hole. I was groaning and grunting as he worked my hole with the thick plastic, and his own cock was standing to attention as he worked. “Yeah, that’s a good boy...” he said. His voice was deeper and less controlled now. He licked his lips. “You take it, boy. You take it.” “Yes!” I gasped. “Yes, sir!” He leaned far over me, pressing down on me and meeting my mouth with his own. It felt less like a kiss and more like possession as his tongue entered my mouth. I kissed him back fiercely, though, and felt him thrash the dildo in and out of my hole with raged rough shoves. I yelped, and he swallowed my cries. He broke off the kiss, and nodded again. He pushed off using my chest as leverage, and I exhaled with a whoosh. He pulled out the red dildo and picked up the largest. My ass already felt sore, and I looked at it with not a little bit of hesitation. He lubed it up, and then slapped it against my ass. It felt heavy. “You take this for me, and you take it like a good boy, you hear?” “Yes, sir,” I managed, though my voice wobbled. He pressed just the tip at my pucker, and I bit my lip, waiting. I tried to relax, but my whole body shifted and arched higher on the bed. He smiled then, and lifted one hand to take my chin. He turned my face back to look at him. “You be a good boy,” he said. I nodded, and he started to push the dildo into me. I cried out, but he shifted his hand to cover my mouth and his fingers cut off my cry quickly. He pushed, inexorable, not fast but without pause and inch by inch I felt my body open even as I tried to rock back away from the invading plastic. It was so thick, so large, I moaned under his rough fingers. “Yeah,” he said, his voice gravel. “Yeah boy, eat that up.” I bucked, but he pushed it in. I twisted as much as I could, but he pushed it in. Finally, after what seemed like forever, he stopped and I realized I was more full than I’d ever been, and that the largest black dildo was deep in my ass. He moved his hand. “You like that, boy?” My eyes were watering. I was breathing in short bursts, trying to catch my breath. My hole felt stretched. I blinked, looking up at the big blond man. He reached down and gave his cock a single stroke. “Yes, sir!” I managed. He took the end of the dildo and started to fuck me with it. I groaned and moaned and gasped as he shoved the plastic in and out of me – harder and faster as the minutes went by. My dick, which had softened during the last while, grew harder again when he started to jerk the dildo just right. The angle he’d cuffed me at seemed perfect for him to grind the dildo in and out of my pucker at so many different angles. I was nearly sobbing in short order. “Greedy little boy hole, ain’t you?” he asked. "Yes sir!” I was nearly yelling now. He used the dildo for longer than I thought I could stand. When I wasn’t even able to catch my breath between his pumping arm, he finally pulled the dildo out with a roughness that made me swear. Then he pressed himself between my raised thighs, braced his arms on either side of my head, and shoved his raw dick deep into my battered hole. “Fuck yeah,” he growled, as I cried out. “That hole is fucking on fire....” He shifted his weight, and his cock was rubbing my insides in a new way, and I could feel the burn from the dildos making every thrust of his dick feel all the more rough. His hands gripped my hair and he fucked my ass hard. It was happening again - I was being fucked raw by a complete stranger. My dick grew rock hard, so turned on. I knew nothing about this man... nothing.... Finally, my ankles and wrists aching, my hole burning around his dick, I felt his pace change, and with a few more rough thrusts he blew his load deep in my hole. He lay on top of me for a moment, his weight a huge pressure, then pulled out slowly, almost carefully. When he leaned back away from me, his fingers were in my hole almost immediately – and he fed me the mix of lube and spunk from his fingers until somewhere I heard someone ringing a bell. As he uncuffed me, and I stretched my aching limbs and slowly started to rise – both my wrists and ankles had red marks from the restraints – he nodded at me, and pulled his jeans back on. He’d just abused my ass and fucked me raw, but now he was packing up his stuff with more care than he’d given me. I moaned a little when I pulled my jockstrap back on – my dick was still hard. I hadn’t managed to jerk myself off. I wiped my ass with one of a small stack of towels I’d assumed had been left for that purpose. We left the room together, and I saw the green bunny come out of the room with the black man, who hadn’t put his vest back on. The green bunny’s ass was red with handprints. We met gazes, and I wondered if I had the same mix of shame and lust in my eyes as the green bunny did. But there wasn’t much time to think about it. When we got to the bottom of the stairs, the bearded man was back, handing us back our egg – which I assumed the blond and all the other “hunters” had given him, and leading us this time to the living room. The big blond who’d abused my ass with the dildos and the other previous winners stayed in the room while the bunnies found nooks and crannies in the living room to hide their eggs. I put mine behind some of the books on the bookcase, then turned to look at the men who’d already had a turn. The tattooed man was making a red-haired bear of a man laugh at something he’d just said. The black man was drinking a beer. My blond was eating a burger. It felt surreal. The bearded man rejoined us when we were done, and opened the sliding doors that led to the dining room once we were ready. Then he – and the remaining men – started hunting. There was less of a race to it this time – after all, six of them, six of us – but they were no less eager given that they’d had to wait and – I assumed – listen to the others going first. My egg was found third - by a beer-gutted hairy man who might have been part Italian or Portuguese, given the cast of this skin and the near pelt of hair that covered his chest and arms and most of his neck. I flushed when he held it up, feeling my already half-hard cock returning to arousal. He was exactly the kind of older man I found most attractive – hairy, rough around the edges, and strong. In fact, except for having no gray in his beard or hair, he could have passed for my ex-Daddy bear. When the other eggs were all found, he walked straight over to me, wrapped one hairy arm around my neck, and said, “Daddy’s gonna eat you alive, boy.” With that we started back up the stairs. *

Love "random chance" stories...

Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the night Not a creature was stirring, I was tied up too tight. Restraints were strung near my fireplace with care, In hopes that Dad Nick soon would be there. The ankles were nestled all snug in their straps, While a ball-gag was tied up with all of its snaps. My wrists were roped up, and a blindfold my cap, And a cockring ensured my dick sprang from my lap. When out on the lawn there arose such a clatter, I twisted and grunted but it just didn't matter. I tried to twist mightly, was sweaty in a flash, Writhed and though lithe my hopes were soon dashed. For I'd been knotted up by a dad in the know Who's lusts for knotting and rough sex he could sow Were a wonder I'd enjoyed many times through the year. (Though often I'd choke, and be left with red rear). When I caught a whiff of a sweaty ol' dick, I knew in a moment it must be Dad Nick. More rapid than ever my breathing became, And he whistled, and chuckled, and I heard him proclaim: "What Faggot! nay, Cum-rag! Look here at this! A present? A plaything? Wrapped so I couldn't miss! With your ass out so pretty! Your legs spread so tall! So tied up and ready, now don't that take all!" His zipper I heard as he tugged at his fly, And then rough hands touched me and drew forth a sigh. His thick finger pushed to my pucker, then withdrew, Then with spit it returned, and what was coming I knew. "Yeah," his voice growled, "that's what I love." His cockhead pressed at me, and then with a shove - God! He was inside me, and so thick around! It burned, and I twisted, but was so firmly bound! He was rough and uncaring, and rammed in each inch, And his hands took my nipples, to twist and to pinch. He laughed while he thrust and yanked me right back, And if my gagged cries grew loud, he'd give me a smack. His cock, how relentless! his laughter so scary! His hands slid to my neck and I twisted, so wary! His foul mouth snapped "I could end you, you know," And the beard at my ear made me shake my head no. The scent of his sweat was thick in my nose, And the rope made me ache from the torturous pose. He had a thick cock, and rough hair on his chest, That scratched when he gripped at my neck and did press! It was angry, and rough, and I was scared for my health, And I came when he threatened, in spite of myself! His fist in my hair, he yanked on my head, His words as he spoke filled me with dread. "You came before Dad Nick, you stupid cum-rag," He fucked me all the harder, without any lag. And slamfucking me harder, he covered my nose, I thrashed and I twisted, my breath-ways all closed! His dick was axelike, he was splitting me half, And my panic did nothing but make Dad Nick laugh. But I felt him cum deep, ‘ere I passed out outright, "Thanks, little faggot. I'll untie you later tonight."

(This came from the post where someone asked what the "Stages of Members" meant. I thought it would be fun to make a series out of the titles, which are: Virgin, Curious, Barebacker, Sex Addict, Slut, and Whore. Here's the third part. For Virgin, click: http://breeding.zone/threads/...-Status-Virgin and for the second part, Curious, click: http://breeding.zone/threads/...Status-Curious The third part, Barebacker, is here: https://breeding.zone/threads/12756-Member-Status-Barebacker I broke the next status, Sex Addict, into two parts since it was getting long.) SEX ADDICT (part one) College seems unfair to me. Corey had a part-time job, had to study, write papers, and do a crapload of reading, all while his hormones were in overdrive and he had a perfectly willing older top – that’d be me – to ram his ass ragged on request. Something had to give. Now, I had a vested interest in not being the thing that got less attention. See, way back on New Year’s Eve, my buddy Warren and I had been out, drinking, and in a daring mood. Warren had dared me that I couldn’t take a cute young college thing we’d spotted across the room and – within a year – not only to get my load inside his tight little butt, but have him bending over and taking it like a whore from all my buds. If I won, he was willing to let me take his twenty-something boyfriend Chris for a run – and man did I want to take Chris. If I lost, I’d have to let this prissy queen Earl blow me, which would be not only unpleasant, but would be something Warren would never let me live down. Not to mention Earl would tell the world he’d gotten to me. Things had been progressing. The first hurdle – getting to mess around with Corey at all – had taken some time, but with some teasing, some internet anonymity and tricks, that had worked by Valentine’s Day. My birthday in early April – along with some alcohol, a nice restaurant, and some luck – had finally gotten Corey over his dependence on rubbers when we fucked, and I’d blown a wad nice and deep up his little hole. Then exams came. It was his first year in college, and his parents – from what I bothered to listen to when he spoke about his life – were definitely of the opinion that his next three years of life were about working his ass off. I was all for working his ass, but it wasn’t quite what they’d intended. Dating me, however, had been taking the focus off his goals, and as his early May exams approached, Corey got more and more worried. I wasn’t the best influence on him. For one, I didn’t give a fuck how he did in school – he was a means to an end for me, and I was looking to impress upon him a different schooling. He’d learned a bit about the ways of gay sex from me – that it was better raw, better dirty, and better mean – but he was still tossing around “boyfriend” and had it in his head that we’d be soulmates or something. Sure, his hormones were in my favour – and I was enjoying getting into his ass as often as I could, since it often reduced him to very few words (those words being “Oh God!” “Yes Daddy!” and “Fuck!” more or less) – but we had a schedule to keep, and I was fast approaching the half-way point. Like I cared about his exams. I decided his schooling needed to pace up a bit. We’d been watching porn quite a bit, and I started delving into showing him some stuff that was a bit hotter and more to my tastes – threesomes, to start with, though I was itching to pull out some of the gangbang stuff I had at the back of my collection. He definitely got off on watching, and I got to blow many a load up his tight little pucker in the process. I still felt like we were hitting a wall, however, and though he was ready for it – nearly always ready for it – when he got back to my place from his job or his class, he was starting to demur in favour of study time, or some rest. So I upped my game. Finding him at his campus wasn’t too hard, but staying out of sight was a bit more of a trick for me. I stick out in the college crowd – older, bigger, and definitely deserving of my “Daddy” moniker. Still, I managed, and waited for the opportunity to school Corey in a different class. He could be pretty damned clueless – I’d already realized he was no genius, and his inability to declare a major wasn’t so much his lack of focus as his lack of real talent at anything other than sucking dick or bending over. He didn’t see me. Keeping a mental tally on who goes in our out of a door was a skill I did have, though, and although it took most of a day, I managed to get the scenario I wanted – when Corey took a break from the library to head to the Library bathroom, I followed a few seconds later. He was at the urinal, and didn’t look up as I approached. I waited till he gave himself a shake, and then quickly pressed up behind him, and reached around to give his dick a tug. “What the hell!” he yelped, and I put my other hand over his mouth. My beard rubbed at his ear. “It’s me,” I said, and chuckled. He squirmed, and I moved my hand. He breathed out, his whole body shaking. “God, you scared the shit out of me,” he said. I stroked his dick, though, and his rapid breathing soon settled into something faster for another reason. “You should... stop...” he groaned a little as I tugged him. “Someone could come in.” “Fine,” I said, and with a growl, I tugged him back from the urinal and marched him to the handicapped stall. Once inside, I closed the door and locked it. When I turned around, Corey went to kiss me. I pushed his chest, and he took a step back, surprised and a little hurt. “I don’t want to kiss you,” I said. “I want to fuck you. Right here, right now.” He laughed a little. “What?” I grinned, and undid my belt and zipper. He bit his bottom lip. When I took his waist and turned him around, I could see his dick already getting hard. I grinned. Some spit, some fingering, and a brutal shove later, and my college boy was taking it like a champ in the bathroom, grunting and moaning and pushing back against every thrust from his Daddy. The door opened, and Corey froze, his whole body tensing. I kept fucking, and I could feel him straining on my cock, his hands reaching behind him to grab at my waist and make me wait. I didn’t wait. I knew Corey was busting to let out a noise – he’d gone instantly silent, but the boy was a moaner and a groaner so this had to be killing him – and I sure wasn’t about to slow down on account of whoever was at the urinals. I slapped his hand out of the way, and ground my dick into him. The guy took the longest piss ever, and when he flushed and then washed his hands, Corey let out a whimper. We both heard the guy pause – his footsteps hesitating for a few seconds – and then he left the bathroom. “Oh God!” Corey nearly yelled the words when the door closed. I rammed him deep, and his dick erupted across the floor of the toilet stall – spunk spraying without so much as a stroke from his hands. “Take it,” I growled, and dumped my load in deep. I pulled out after, and wiped myself down while he leaned against the wall of the stall and gasped in deep breaths. “Thanks,” I said. “Needed that. So did you, apparently. I think I need to visit more often. Give you more study breaks.” He was shaking. “Holy shit,” he said. I laughed. For the next couple of weeks, I made good on my word – I even showed up at the restaurant where he worked and made him give me a quick blow-job in the bathroom there. He definitely got off on the thrill of potential discovery, and every time I fucked his ass in a bathroom or behind a building or just off the beaten path in a park, I knew I was making progress in his other education. But then his exams came, and he was pretty sure he flunked at least one of them. His parents flipped, and something I never expected happened. They made him go home. Now, I wasn’t keen to let nearly three months go by on the clock, but I didn’t get a vote. His folks told him flat-out that he had to come home and work if he wanted to try college again, since they were done paying for it. “You’re not going to win the bet,” Warren said to me. We were in a coffee shop, and his boy Chris had stepped off to the bathroom for a moment. Warren had caught me eyeing Chris’s ass, and had asked me how things were going with Corey. I brought him up to speed. “Just need a new approach,” I said. Warren laughed. “A long distance one.” “A long distance what?” Chris had returned. “Corey moved back home,” Warren said, with delight. Chris looked at me. “Really? Well... No offense, but he did seem a bit.. uh..” “Dumb?” I asked. Chris smiled. I sincerely wanted to see those cocksucker lips of his covered with my spunk. I definitely needed a new approach. Part of getting into Corey’s little college butt had involved some internet fakery. Since he was far enough away that I couldn’t exactly pop by and continue working on the ultimate goal – getting him to bend over for my friends – I needed to keep connected. I signed back in under the two profiles I was using – my own, DaddyKnowsBest - and FitCountryLad, which was a fake profile I’d made so I could pretend to be a bottom boy just like Corey and strike up a friendship with him and be “moral support” when he needed a push to first start hanging out with me. I’d kept up occasional messaging back and forth with Corey – RunningMan92 – but for the most part, he’d been inactive on the site since we’d started fucking and he’d started struggling in school. I had FitCountryLad send him a random “How’s it going?” message, and Corey told him the troubles he was having, and how he was back in his home city, and how much that sucked since I was so far away. FitCountryLad offered condolences, and then, in his usual sex-centric way, “That mean you’re on a cock-free diet?” RunningMan92 replied, simply, “Yep. ” Time to go to work. FitCountryLad: “Are you guys exclusive? Because it’s not like you’re trapped in a crap freaking town like I am! You’ve got options, mister...." RunningMan92: “I don’t think so! LOL.” Crap. I took a risk, and opened up the my Facebook account and started a chat window with him at the same time. I asked him if he was unpacked. We chatted – two separate conversations, one through our online chat, and one as private messages through the gay website – at the same time. I had to really pause and think before I sent a message or a chat response, to make sure I kept the two conversations straight. FitCountryLad continued to suggest that he should go get laid since he was at home, bored, and frustrated with out his leather-harness wearing daddy’s dick at the ready, and I slowly steered our chat to a bit of cyberflirting, telling him to take pictures of himself and send them to me doing things I wanted him to do. Then, when he was at his horniest, I went for broke, crossing my fingers. “If you need to get that ass fucked, don’t worry – I’m not the jealous type. Just remember it belongs to me when I want it!” I waited a moment, then clicked send. A few moments later, there was a message to FitCountryLad: “Holy Shit! He totally just said I could get laid!!!!” I grinned, and while he replied to my chat message: “Seriously?” I wrote a message back from FitCountryLad: “You have found yourself a keeper! Those pipes, that chest, that leather harness and HE WANTS YOU TO GET LAID! Does he have a brother?” I wrote him back in the chat: “Seriously, boy. I know your ass. It needs attention. Just send me pics, if you can!” “You’re dirty,” he typed back. I let the conversation drift, and though FitCountryLad and Corey continued to chat more about how awesome I was for wanting him to scratch his itches, on Facebook we moved on to boring shit that Corey felt I would care about (his folks, his home city, and other crap I didn’t need to know). He was going to get a part-time job so he could – maybe – come back to school in the fall. I didn’t care if he came back for school, but I needed him back in town at the end of the summer. Once he signed off, I went back to the gay site where I’d been chatting with him as FitCountryLad, and started searching profiles. The next step would be tricky.

I just posted the third part to this one.

New story is up.

(This came from the post where someone asked what the "Stages of Members" meant. I thought it would be fun to make a series out of the titles, which are: Virgin, Curious, Barebacker, Sex Addict, Slut, and Whore. Here's the third part. For Virgin, click: http://breeding.zone/threads/...-Status-Virgin and for the second par, Curious, click: http://breeding.zone/threads/12263-Member-Status-Curious ). BAREBACKER It was almost April, and it was looking like I was going to be the damned fool. On New Year’s Eve, I’d made a bet with my buddy Warren. There’d been this cute young fella – Corey – at the bar, and a few beers in to the night, we’d wagered over him. Somewhere between boasting and beering and feeling horny, the challenge had been declared: I not only had to get into Corey’s ass and bury my spunk deep in his guts, I had to have him taking it from my buds as well, like a cheap ass whore. The prize, if I won, was Warren’s twenty-something piece of ass boyfriend Chris, who – truth be told – I’d wanted to plow since I’d seen my lucky-as-shit friend with him the first time. But if I lost, I’d be letting this prissy queen Earl blow me. It had taken some finesse to hook up with Corey at all. For one, he’d been a bit shy – though we’d shared a kiss at New Year’s – and for two, he’d been a virgin. Yeah, that part? That part I’d accomplished. See, I’d made up a couple of profiles on a site we both used, and posed as a kid more his age, chatted with him through his online profile of RunningMan92 via this fake profile, and convinced him to go on a Valentine’s Day Date half through interactions with my false persona of FitCountryLad, and half through my own awareness that he thought I was hot – something he’d admitted to FitCountryLad. Valentine’s Day had gone from coffee, to a diner, to my couch, and then my bedroom. I’d managed to eat his tight little runner’s boy butt – and he’d come from the combination of my tongue and beard on his virginal little pucker. He was a total butt-boy, and I’d figured that it was going to be smooth sailing from there on in. By the morning, he’d blown me and I’d managed to get my finger into his tight hole in the shower, and he’d jerked off while I fingered him and gave his nipple a good rub. His ass seemed directly connected to his dick – and I was sure I’d be breeding him by that weekend. That weekend, Corey had shown up with a willing attitude and a backpack with a change of clothes. I’d put on some porn after dinner, and we’d made out watching it – I’d had to struggle to find some tamer shit to show him, rather than my usual fare – and we’d moved on to my bedroom mostly at his urging, which was fine by me. Naked, he was a thing of beauty – which was good, since from a conversational point of view he was pretty dim – all lean legs and smooth skin and a mop of dirty blond hair that just begged to be clenched in a fist. It was difficult to hold back, but I didn’t want to spook him. He loved my hair chest, my thick arms, and – unsurprisingly – my dick. Corey went down on me eagerly this time, and with a bit more skill. He ran one hand up my hairy chest – I knew he loved how hairy I was – and used his other hand up and down my dickshaft like I’d taught him earlier in the week. It was nothing exotic – just a blow-job – but this that was enough. I had a virgin boy sucking my cock, and I aimed to make that qualifier vanish before the weekend was done. After he’d slurped a while, we rolled around a bit, and I got his legs up in the air to bury my face between those tight little runner buttcheeks. I gave him a stern look. “No cumming this time, you got it?” He blushed, and nodded, and I started to eat the boy’s ass like only a daddy can. He groaned and moaned while I munched, licked, slurped and drilled with my tongue. Whenever he seemed to be getting too excited, I’d slow down, and tease him with my finger for a bit. Soon my beard was wet with spit, and my finger was having no trouble. He’d braced his arms at the small of his back, and was half-rolled onto his shoulders. It was everything I had in me not to just lift up, cover his mouth with my hand, and ram my dick up his hole and burst his cherry right there and then. Imagining taking him like that made me rock hard, and I went back to work on his pucker. A second finger joined the first, and then I knew I was in business. When I got the lube, he tensed again, and I had to slow down a bit, rub him with my beard, tease him some more. Fuck I wished it had turned out Corey was already half a slut, and knew he liked dick. I’d have been calling my buds to line up there and then, and then bragging to Warren that it was time for him to turn his boy around for me. Instead, I had to tease and tease and tease this boy’s ass until it stopped clenching on my finger again, and when I finally had him relaxed, lubed, and ready to go, I lifted myself up against him, grabbed his calves in hand, and... “There’s a condom in my backpack,” he said. He bit his bottom lip, looking up at me, and I swallowed my swear, and kept my voice even and amused. “You’re a virgin,” I said. “I’m not afraid of catching something.” He blushed scarlet, even with his hard dick and twitching ass. “I know,” he said. “But we should be... y’know...” Fuck. What else could I do? I put the wretched thing on before he changed his mind about everything, and then allowed myself to imagine fucking him from behind while I yanked on that pretty dirty blond hair of his. That got me hard enough to suffer through the condom, and when I slowly – oh so fucking slowly – inched into him, pausing as he hissed and winced and asked me to wait what seemed like every two seconds – I told myself it was just another hurdle to surpass. Once I was inside him, buried to my pubes, I could feel him breathing rapidly underneath me. His eyes were clenched shut, and he was biting his bottom lip. I rocked gently, barely building up a pace, and took my time, even though I wanted to slamfuck the little guy in half. I needed him to enjoy this, and lucky for me, that ass-to-dick connection of his came through. While I slowly fucked his hole, his dick hardened, and before long, he was hesitantly pushing back against me. I didn’t get to fuck him for long before he was wincing too much and I knew I needed to pull out, but putting my bearded mouth on his hole had the same effect as before, and I got my tongue good and deep, and was twisting my fingers inside his boybutt when he blew his load all over his stomach. “Holy crap,” he said, gasping for breath after. He smiled at me, and I leaned forward and ruffled his hair, then tore off the stupid condom and jerked off over his slim chest. It didn’t take him long to learn to accommodate my dick. Between his young hormones and my ever-hard cock, it wasn’t more than two weeks before I could fuck him and get off doing it – but he insisted on bringing his condoms, and although I joked about it, he just shrugged and put them on me. He seemed to consider it foreplay, and enjoyed dragging out the process of rolling it on me once I got hard. I was driving me up a wall. I had him how I wanted him – horny, aware that his ass was made for taking cock, and dropping by most nights his classes permitted to watch porn (which devolved pretty quickly into fucking) – but that one stupid thing was holding me back from moving further along in my bet with Warren. I’d slowly shifted some barebacking porn in with the regular stuff, and it was obvious he found it hot, but... nothing. So there was April, and there was me. A quarter of the way through the year already, and not a whole lot closer to my goal. Warren was mocking me mercilessly, and I was taking it as good naturedly as I could, blustering and boasting, but I was starting to worry I was gonna end up with Earl sucking my dick, instead of fucking Warren’s boy toy. “You want to come to the cabin for your birthday?” Warren asked me, after we’d shot the shit a while at the bar. “No,” I said. I wanted to keep working on Corey. It had hit me then, and I’d grinned at him. “You’re a genius.” “What?” he’d asked, but I’d just gotten up and left. Some time on the computer later, I had a plan. My birthday party was just me, Corey, and an expensive restaurant, followed by a pretty swanky hotel. He was over-the-moon to celebrate with me, and I’m not sure he noticed that each of the five courses of the meal had come with a different wine to match. He didn’t normally drink more than a beer or two at most – he was a lightweight – but on my birthday, he wasn’t about to argue. I even got him to share some scotch with me after the meal. By the time we’d had dessert, and headed up to the lavish hotel room, he was more than tipsy, and I was more than horny. We got each other naked with rough hands, and then I climbed onto the bed, spread my legs wide, my hard dick up in the air, and leered at my naked boy. “It’s my birthday,” I said. “Come blow this out while I make a wish.” He laughed, and crawled onto the bed and planted his lips on my dick. I took his head in both hands, and he was soon bobbing happily up and down my shaft, with much greater ease than normal. After a while of that, I pulled him off my cock, and kissed him hard, tugging him up against me, and gripping his ass with both hands. “Did you make a wish?” he asked. Perfect. “I did,” I nodded, and reached to the small bedside table, grabbing the lube from where I’d left it. I slicked up my fingers, and started alternating my index fingers from both hands up his hole. He groaned while I fingered him. After a while, I stopped, picked up the lube and pressed it into his hand. He grinned. I said, “I want you to pour this on my dick, and I want to lie back on my birthday and watch you fuck yourself on my cock.” He shivered, and nodded, grinning. “Okay, daddy!” I rumbled low in my chest when he said that – it turned my crank to hear him call me that. I saw him glance around, a little bemused, and realised what he was looking for. “Come on, boy,” I said, and tugged him toward me. He rubbed up against my lap, his dick hard against mine. “I want to come inside you. It’s my birthday wish!” His eyes widened. My fingers went back to work. He moaned, bit his lip, shook his head once or twice... ...and then started working the lube along my dick. His hands shook a little, but my fingers kept him going – he was all but purring when he finally crouched over my dick, and I aimed my cockhead at his pucker while he lowered himself down onto my shaft. “Oh my God,” he gasped as I slid into him. I grunted. This was how a boy was supposed to ride a cock – skin to skin – his ass, hot from my fingering, was swallowing my meat with little spasms as he lowered himself. He arched his back as he sank, his hands moving behind him, and I watched his dick harden again as I filled him up. When I was finally balls deep, I took his waist in both hands, and gripped him. “Fuck yourself on me, boy,” I growled. He shivered once, then obliged. I liked this obedient version of Corey, and was pretty sure that a little drink had revealed more about him than he’d probably wanted me to know. I tugged him with short jerks as he raised and lowered himself on my dick, and soon we were fucking in earnest, his slim body bouncing on my lap while I pulled and twisted him on my dick. His mouth opened, and his eyes were shut tight. “God! God! God!” he kept saying. I felt my dick throbbing inside him. “Tell me you want it, boy,” I said. He groaned, low. I gripped him tighter, and pulled him hard onto my dick. “Tell me you want it!” “I want... I want... I want it!” he gasped. “That’s right, boy,” I said. “Make! You! Mine!” Each word was another thrust, and with the last, I unloaded deep into Corey’s ass, feeling a colossal load of spunk erupt in him. He cried out, and his hand flew to his dick, jerking himself off furiously until he sprayed across my chest and stomach before he fell back. I pulled him back up, and kept my dick buried in his hole while I crushed him against my sweaty and cum-sprayed chest. I filled his mouth with my tongue, and gripped him so tight he could barely breathe. I slid my hand up his back, gripped his hair, and gave it a yank, exposing his throat as he gasped. “Mine,” I growled. “You’re mine.”

Thanks! Glad you enjoyed it.

Yes - I have a bearcouple I know with whom I definitely enjoy getting double-fucked. It took them a while to talk me into trying, but now when I can get to visit them, it's definitely always on the agenda!