rapazsolitario

Another story with the daddies would be cool, but the sex part should have more details. But it was a good story.

This is so good, I hope he gets fucked next chapter

That's nice

Damn, I wish there was more, that was a promising story

Where is part 2?

I wish the sex part had more details, but it's a nice story

I have always had a rape fantasy too

I'm not really into betrayal when they are married to a guy (I'm ok if it's a woman), but that's a good start and I want more.

This is a really good story and I want more. Can't wait for daddy to fuck Ethan too

Author's note: Thank you so much for all the feedback I've received so far. The next part is a little heavier, but it's also a lot hotter. Please leave a comment letting me know how you're enjoying it, because that encourages me to keep going. 03 CARLO Tony pulled out his dick and held it in front of my face, as he made me get on my knees. The smell of his arousal mixed with the stench of the room. "You're going to suck it," he ordered, pushing it towards my mouth. "And if you do a good job, I might just let you keep your teeth." Panic set in as I realized the gravity of my situation. I was knee-deep in the underbelly of the mafia, and my only hope was to play along. I didn't want to do it, but the alternative was unthinkable. I opened my mouth and took him in, my eyes watering from the sheer revulsion. Tony's grip on my head tightened as he began to thrust, his hips moving in a slow, deliberate rhythm. Each movement sent waves of nausea through me, but I focused on breathing through my nose, trying not to gag. His fingers tangled in my hair, pulling and pushing, setting a pace that was both agonizing and degrading. “Good boy,” he said. “You suck dick like a pro, I don’t think I’m your first.” My mind raced with thoughts of escape, of the people I'd put in jail, of the lives I'd ruined in my pursuit of justice. Was this the price? Was I going to die here, on my knees, in the dirt? I tried to push the thoughts away, focusing instead on the feel of the cold concrete beneath my knees, the taste of his skin, the roughness of his grip. Anything to keep from breaking down completely. As Tony's breathing grew ragged, I knew the end was near. I braced myself, hoping that once he was finished with this sick game, he'd have no further use for me and let me go. But the fear remained, a cold, hard stone in my stomach, because I knew that with Tony Mancini, there were no guarantees. No matter what happened next, this night was going to change me forever. Suddenly, Tony's movements stopped, and he pulled away, looking at me with a disgusted sneer. I didn't dare to move, the taste of him still in my mouth. He wiped his hand across my lips, smearing the saliva and bile that had pooled there. The humiliation was complete. I had never felt so dirty, so utterly violated. I wanted to vomit, to purge the very thought of this monster from my body. And so, I did. The bile rose in my throat and spilled onto the cold, concrete floor. The room swam around me, the smell of vomit mixing with the stench of the room. I coughed and choked, my eyes watering, my nose burning. Tony took a step back, his expression a mix of amusement and revulsion. He wiped his cock with a handkerchief, tucking it back into his pants with an air of nonchalance. "Stand up," he barked, his voice like a whip crack. I stumbled to my feet, my legs shaking. The ropes that bound my hands made it difficult to balance, and the feeling of his precum on my chin was nauseating. Tony grabbed the ropes and pulled me towards the chair, forcing me to lean over it. "Please," I begged, my voice weak and trembling. "Please, don't do this." But Tony ignored my pleas. With one violent yank, he pulled down my pants, exposing my bare ass to the cold air. I felt his cock brush against me, and I knew what was coming next. The fear grew inside me like a tumor, spreading through every cell in my body. He didn't say a word as he pushed himself into me. The pain was like nothing I had ever felt before, a searing agony that ripped through me like a hot knife. I screamed, but it was muffled by the walls. I felt the chair dig into my stomach as I was held in place, unable to do anything but take his brutal assault. I was never interested in men like that, but now I was getting fucked by one. And then, just as suddenly as it had started, Tony stopped. The pressure was unbearable, and I knew he was fully inside me. He leaned over, pressing the cold metal of a gun against my forehead. "Tell me you love it," he whispered, his breath hot against my ear. "Tell me you want to get fucked by me." My mind reeled. I didn't know how much more of this I could take. But the gun was a stark reminder that resistance was futile. Through gritted teeth, I forced out the words. "I love it," I lied. "I want it deeply." Tony chuckled, a sick, twisted sound that sent a shiver down my spine. He began to thrust again, the gun still pressing against my forehead, a constant threat of what would happen if I didn't play along. I felt my body betray me, my muscles clenching around him despite my mind's screams. My cock was hard as a rock. This was it. This was the price I paid for crossing the Cosa Nostra. And as the pain became a numbness, and the room faded away, I realized that there was no escape, no redemption. I was at the mercy of Tony Mancini, and all I could do was pray for the strength to survive. "Are you at least wearing a condom?", I asked. "Do you feel a condom?", he replied with another question. "I'm going to breed you." My heart stopped. This wasn't just about power or information anymore; it was about something far more twisted. I felt the heat of his body, the slickness of his skin, and knew he was bare. This was real. This was happening. I had to keep my legs from giving out as he began to thrust into me, the mental pain unbearable. Each stroke was like a hammer to my soul, and all I could do was take it. Tony's grip on my hips was ironclad, his breathing growing more ragged with each push. I could feel his cock stretching me, tearing me apart. And with each thrust, the cold reality of my situation sank deeper into me. He was fucking me without a condom. The thought of what that could mean made me want to die right there. But I couldn't. I had to survive this. Minutes passed that felt like hours, the pain a constant reminder of my fate. And then, just when I thought it couldn't get any worse, Tony's grip tightened, and he groaned, his body going tense. He was about to cum. Inside me. Panic set in, and I struggled, trying to pull away, but his hold was too strong. And then, the inevitable. The hot spurt of his seed filled me, and I felt my body convulse around him. The feeling was alien, wrong, and I knew I would never be the same. The moment seemed to last an eternity, his cock pulsing, my body shuddering in pain and disgust. Finally, he pulled out, leaving me to collapse onto the chair. I could feel his cum leaking out of me, running down my thigh, the warm stickiness a stark contrast to the cold floor. Tony stepped back, zipping up his pants with a smug look on his face. "Good boy," he said, and then the words that sealed my fate. "I just found out I have HIV, you are the first person to receive my swimmers. I'm gonna fuck you every day to make sure I make you positive." The room spun. The air grew thick with the weight of his confession. I had just been infected with a death sentence, a parting gift from a monster who had enjoyed every second of my degradation. And the worst part is that hearing the man say that made my cock throb and get even harder. Luckily, he didn't notice. As Tony left the room, locking the door behind him, I was left alone with the echo of his laughter and the sticky evidence of his depravity. I was no longer Carlo the journalist, the fearless seeker of truth. I was a broken shell, used and discarded by a man with no conscience. I was a raped man, with cum running down my legs. Even if I managed to escape, I would never be able to return to my normal life. I would never be able to be with my fiancée again. The tears fell then, hot and fast. I didn't know what was worse, the pain in my ass or the pain in my heart. I had been so sure that my work would make a difference, that I could bring down these animals. But here I was, a mere plaything for Tony Mancini. In the eyes of the powerful people in the mafia, I was just an inflatable doll. I knew then that my life had changed, irrevocably. The fear of HIV was a constant companion, whispering in my ear, reminding me of what had been stolen from me. But amidst the despair, a spark of anger grew. I would not let this be the end of me. I would find a way to get out of that place and bring them all down. I would not let Tony or the Cosa Nostra win. I was Carlo Barbieri after all.

I would love to read more, I want to see this teacher earning some money with that ass

02 CARLO The awards ceremony at that restaurant was a complete bore. I sat at the table, listening to endless speeches about cuisine and gastronomic excellence, when what I really wanted was to be home, away from that artificial atmosphere. I wasn’t a restaurant critic, nor a social event reporter. What I really wanted to do was cover serious news, investigate the criminal gangs that infested Sicily like a plague. But apparently someone inside the newspaper was trying to boycott my work. I knew I was bothering the criminals, so I had to keep investigating. But not everyone was happy about it. When I finally managed to leave the restaurant, the night was already dark and the streets were almost deserted. I walked quickly, with my hands stuffed in my coat pockets, trying to ignore the cold that was biting my skin. My mind was still busy with the stories I wanted to write, the denunciations that needed to be made. Sicily was not only a place of beauty and tradition; It was also a place of shadows, where crime hid behind respectable facades. And I was determined to expose it, no matter the cost. It was then that I felt that strong hand pressing a piece of cloth against my nose. The smell of the liquid was strong, almost suffocating, and I immediately realized what was happening. I tried to struggle, but the man was too strong. He held my body as if I were a rag doll, with no chance of escape. My arms and legs felt like they weighed tons, and each movement was more difficult than the last. “There’s no point in fighting,” I heard a low voice say, but I couldn’t see the speaker’s face. The darkness of the street seemed to swallow everything around me. I tried to scream, but no sound came out. The liquid in the cloth began to take effect, and soon my consciousness began to wander. My thoughts became confused, as if they were floating in a sea of fog. The last thing I thought before I passed out was that my fiancée would be worried when I didn’t come home. She always waited for me, even when I arrived late. She said she couldn’t sleep until she was sure I was safe. Now, I had no way to warn her, no way to explain what had happened. When I woke up, I was in a dark, cold place. My head ached, and the taste of the liquid was still in my mouth, bitter and sickening. I tried to move, but realized that I was tied to a chair, my hands and feet bound by thick ropes. The light was dim, coming from a single bulb hanging from the ceiling, and the air was filled with a musty, damp smell. “Is anyone there?” I shouted, but my voice echoed in the void, unanswered. I stood there, trying to make sense of what had happened. I knew my work had upset powerful people, but I never imagined it would go this far. Sicily was a dangerous place, but I had always believed that words had power, that the truth could prevail. Now, it seemed I had underestimated the lengths they were willing to go to in order to silence someone like me. Time passed slowly, and I had no way of knowing if it was hours or minutes. Every sound made me shiver, every shadow seemed to move. I knew I was not alone, that someone was watching, waiting for the right moment to act. But who? And what did they want from me? When I finally heard footsteps approaching, my heart raced. The door opened, and a man walked in. He was tall, with an impassive face and eyes that seemed to see nothing but an object, not a person. “You’ve caused a lot of trouble,” he said, his voice calm and terrifying. “Now you’re going to pay for it.” I tried to speak, but the words wouldn’t come out. He stepped closer, and I felt fear creep up my spine. I knew what was coming wouldn’t be good, but I also knew I couldn’t give up. There were still stories to tell, truths to expose. And as long as I was alive, I would keep fighting for them. But at that moment, all I could do was wait. Wait and try to hold on to the hope that somehow I would find a way out of there. Because deep down, I knew my fiancée wouldn’t give up looking for me. And as long as she was out there, I still had a chance. Those criminals would pay for what they were doing. The man came closer and held my chin firmly, tilting my face up to meet his gaze. His grip was surprisingly gentle, a stark contrast to the fear that surged through my veins. The room was cold, the only light coming from a single bulb dangling from the ceiling, casting harsh shadows across the cinder block walls. The smell of stale cigarettes and fear hung heavy in the air, a potent mix that made it hard to breathe. My heart thundered in my chest, and the ropes bit into my wrists, a painful reminder of my predicament. "You're Carlo, right?" he asked, his voice a low murmur. I nodded, not trusting my voice to betray my fear. "Good, good," he said, his eyes studying me intently. "You've been causing quite a stir with the Cosa Nostra." My heart sank. I had hoped it was just a random mugging, a case of being in the wrong place at the wrong time. But now, the reality of my situation was sinking in. The group Cosa Nostra didn't play games. They had a reason for taking me, and it wasn't going to be pretty. The man's grip on my chin tightened for a moment before he let go. I felt a brief sense of relief, but it was quickly replaced by a new form of terror as he began to untie the ropes that bound me to the chair. My arms and legs remained bound, but suddenly, the chair was no longer part of my prison. He pulled me to my feet, and I stumbled, my legs wobbly from the sudden rush of blood. "I’m Tony Mancini," he said, holding out a hand as if we were at a cocktail party. "And you, my friend, are in a world of trouble." The fear grew colder, wrapping itself around my spine like a serpent. If Tony Mancini was here, it meant the situation was dire. He was notorious for his brutality, a man who didn't just take things; he liked to break them first. He stepped back, allowing me to see him fully. He was tall, with dark hair slicked back from a sharp widow's peak. His eyes were cold, like chips of ice in a winter's grip. I knew that look. It was the look of a man who had seen too much, a man who enjoyed the power he held over others. I tried to speak, to spit out defiance, but all that came out was a muffled sound. "Now, let's talk," he said, his smile never wavering. I took a deep breath and spat at him. "You're all going down," I said, my voice hoarse but steady. "You, your dad, the whole rotten lot of you." Tony's smile grew wider, his eyes glinting in the harsh light. "Is that so?" He stepped closer, his hand coming up to cup my cheek. "You know, you're quite handsome when you're angry." My stomach churned. What kind of sick game was he playing? "I'll tell you what," he said, his voice dropping to a murmur. "We'll make a deal." I waited, my heart racing. "You're going to make me very happy," Tony purred, his hand trailing down to my neck, his thumb brushing against the pulse hammering in my throat. "And in return, I might decide to keep you around a little longer." The implication was clear. I felt the bile rise in my throat, but I forced myself to remain calm. I had to think, to find a way out of this. I couldn't let fear control me. "You see, Carlo," Tony continued, "you have something I like. And I have something you need. A way to live." He leaned in closer, his breath hot against my ear. "But first," he whispered, "you're going to show me how much you want to live." Before I could react, he grabbed my face with both hands and turned it to the side. His gaze was intense, hungry. "You have such a pretty mouth," he said, licking his lips. "It's a shame to waste it on talking." My body went rigid with disgust and fear as Tony's other hand reached down and unzipped his pants. That man was going to rape me.

I'm glad to see you here, dad. I love you.