nicktheslut

“Shit! Scout… I am so sorry.” His sobs slowly shifted to a slight giggle. “Don’t be coach. I loved it.” Scout stood up awkwardly to avoid any sudden flinch of his bashed hole. He stood in front of me. Grabbed my cock while planting his lips on my mine. We pashed. He pushed his tongue into my mouth. I did the same. I wrapped my arms around him and pulled him into my body. My cock hardened to Scout’s slow-moving jerks. He suddenly pulled his lips away - eyes locked. ‘Coach… I love you.’ He pressed his lips on mine again. My mind spun itself into a storm. He loves me. A boy loves me. The thought landed like a match in petrol. I’d crossed a line I didn’t even know I’d been circling. I’d loved women. I thought I’d loved women. Or maybe I’d just loved the idea of them, the story I was meant to live. I’d always called myself straight. Wore it like a uniform. And yet—nothing had ever cracked me open the way this had. Nothing had stripped me down so completely, left me this raw, this awake. His touch. His heat. The way his body felt under mt touch. The way he looked at me, like I was gravity. I loved being inside him. Do I love men? Do I love him? The questions stacked, collapsed, rebuilt themselves in new shapes. My identity buckled under their weight. I love Scout. The realisation didn’t arrive gently. It slammed into me, undeniable, irreversible. A truth I could try to outrun, but would never outpace. ‘I love you too.’ Eventually, we pulled apart – slowly, reluctantly. I lit a joint – inhaled a few puffs, then passed it to Scout. We got high and spoke for a while. He awkwardly sat down. Damage to his ass was apparent. Blood smeared my cock when I screwed deep into him. “And you’re… okay with it?” I asked quietly. “With the way I take control?” He nodded, not looking away. “Coach, I like it. I like letting go. Being owned, in that space.” A pause. Then, softer, more honest. “I’m always doing the right thing. School. Training. Expectations. Being the example. It never stops.” He exhaled, like the weight of it all lived in his lungs. “It’s exhausting. I feel hollow trying to be who everyone needs me to be.” “I get that,” I said. And I did. “That’s why I like losing control,” he went on. “Doing something that belongs to no one else’s version of me. Something messy. Something real.” His eyes flicked back up to mine. “That’s when I feel alive.” The words sat heavy between us—confession and invitation, all tangled together. Scout opened up after that. Really opened up. We smoked more. Too much. Hours dissolved into haze and laughter and long, heavy silences. He stayed the night. Then the next. And the next after that. Soon, it wasn’t staying over — he was just there. Mornings, afternoons, nights. Like he’d quietly moved into the orbit of my chaos. He’d go to school, then come straight back. We’d blur the edges again — pot, smoke meth, lines on the marble bench. Reality kept losing the argument. I stopped pretending there were boundaries. He stopped pretending he wanted them. I would just take him anyway I liked. Something dark and reckless took root between us. Control became the language we spoke. I stopped asking. He stopped resisting. I didn’t care if he was prepared for it or not. It was raw, instinctive, messy — the kind of connection that thrives in secrecy and collapse. Days folded into weeks. The world outside shrank. Inside that apartment, time worked differently. There was no future — only repetition, ritual, appetite. I would fuck him first thing in the morning, then send him to school with my load in him. I wanted him to feel the twitch in his hole and control his muscles and not let any of it drip out. A reminder that I was with him at every moment. His parents buzzed the intercom. There was no way in hell I would let them up. I answered it, and Scout’s Dad blasted me through the intercom. As though his words were threatening enough to make me send his boy home. He called me a predator for fucking an 18-year-old, and that he will get me for what I was doing to his boy. But Scout wanted it. He chased me. I reminded Scout that we didn’t have to do this. He kept insisting. So, I kept fucking him. Scout had a key to my place. He could come and go as he pleased. He wasn’t a hostage. My place was his. Don’t get me wrong. I got worried during the nights when he either got back to my apartment late or very early in the morning. He wouldn’t tell me what he got up to-I didn’t ask. I wanted him to have freedom. To explore. To learn who he was as a young man. I got back late one evening, and when I walked in, the place was dark. I could hear sounds of moans and thumping. “You like being Daddy's little bitch-Ahh... Don’t you?” An unfamiliar voice called out. “Mmm.” The moans got louder as I got closer to my bedroom. The door was slightly ajar, and a dim light shimmered out. I crept closer and peered through. My jaw dropped. On all fours was Scout, facing away from the door, getting fucked from behind by another man. Like a deer in headlights, I was stunned. Scout grabbed the brown bottle and took a sniff up each nostril. I struggled to develop thoughts. A little bit of jealousy crept through. Scout was my lad. But as I watched, that dirty, deep, filthy drive revved up. It turned me on to see Scout bent over, the mood-light cascading over his youthful muscles and ass, with a man taking advantage of it. A man who was not me. A stranger. “Yeah. Get high, boy. Your cunt is hungry for cock.” The man was ordered. He was older. Older than me. He was hairy in all the wrong places. He was a larger guy, biggish belly, hairy man tits, long grey beard, random faded tattoos. He kind of reminded me of my late grandfather. “Oh, fuck yeah! That shard is turning you into a cock starved meth pig. Your cunt is just pulling me in.” He continued as he thrust in and out of Scout. A shard? The man was in his element, pounding away, owning Scout’s hole. I had no idea what shard meant, but the thought of Scout being a cock starved meth pig got me wild. I couldn’t resist, I pulled my jeans down and jerked myself off. The moment reminded me of when I would watch my wife get fucked by strangers. The old man was picking up his pace. “Yeah, boy. Mmm, Yeah… I’m gonna unload in ya. I’m gonna unload in ya cunt!” The old man’s moans intensified. “Yeah, you want it in your cunt. Don’t ya boy?” He was fucking hard by this stage. Scout just moaned. Like a tiger jaw locking its prey, the old man held onto Scout’s hips with all his might. ‘Oh fuck! Argh-Yeah. Here it comes. Too late. Oh-God, Yes! I’m cumming inside you!’ The old man’s ass clenched and retracted with every pulse of his unloading. I nearly came, myself. His ejaculation seemed to go on forever. When he finished, he slumped his sweaty body on top of Scout. I could see his fat cock still inside Scout’s hole, occasionally pulsing its last bit of spunk inside. I accidentally bumped the door-Scout and the old man turned to me. “Oh shit!” The old man quickly lifted himself off Scout, pulling his cock out at the same time. For a split moment, I watched Scout’s hole close in as a glob of cum seed out past his abused lips. “Fuck! You did say your father would be home.” The old man scrabbled to his feet, looking left and right to find his clothes. I pushed the door wide open, my cock still in hand. The old man noticed. Scout’s grin caught my attention. His eyes were peaking. His hole is pointed to the heavens. Cum dribbled out of his used pink hole. I lost all control and dove my face into the boy’s ass cheeks. Cupped his hole with my mouth and lapped up the drooling cum while I tongued the puffy walls of his used ass. I pulled his cheeks wide, tasting the salty flavour of this random old man’s spunk buried in this youthful boy. My mind was in a frenzy. I flipped Scout over and pinned his legs down. Scout had the poppers in his hand, like a duck to water, and took two huff sniffs in each nostril. ‘Hold it in, faggot.’ His face went red from the rush. Red veins coated the white in his eye. I could tell he was off his face from the meth and amyl. I rammed my cock in hard and fucked away. “Holy shit! You let your dad fuck you? Fuck!! You are really are a pig. Incest pig.” Scout grunted for a moment. But with all the fucking we have been having and just taking a cock a moment ago, he was getting used to his hole being stretched out. “DON’T look away.” Eyes locked on Scout’s. I was pulled into his deep, depraved fucked up mind. I was still a little jealous. Angry that he let a random old man fuck and cummed in him. I felt cheated. But I was also hot for it. The idea of strangers fucking this beautiful boy. Having their way and a fallen Angel. Scout’s hole was slick. The old man’s cum was splashing out with every thrust and coating Scout’s balls and shrivelled up cock. I felt a splash on my abdomen. My inner pig unleashed. Scout’s almost incoherent expression reminded me of the young lad I watched in the cruise club. It made me want to wreck the boy. Unlock the true faggot in him. Scout couldn’t hold it in any longer and let go of the poppers in his lungs. He moaned as I ploughed away at him with no care if he was liking it or not. I wasn’t fucking him for a long time or a good time. I was fucking him to fuck to simply unload in his dirty, used pink hole. I didn’t give a fuck if Scout was enjoying it. I felt it build up. “Grrr… Fuck! You fuck’n pig. Fuck’n take it.” I didn’t want to hold back and let it release and shoot inside me. A tyrant of babies filled the boy’s hole. Fill the cunt up. Mixed in with the old man seed. If only he could get pregnant like my ex-wives. Like his mother, I got knocked up. I imagined Scout having my babies. This made me more determined, and I fucked harder. For a moment, I believed that if I could fuck hard enough, he would get pregnant. Scout was screaming in pain. Yeah, I broke him. His little cock pissed over his chest and face. I was hitting something deep inside me. I’ve seen this before. My ex-wife used to squirt. “Fuck-Yeah! Squirt for me faggot!” Scout was squirting like a girl. But I didn’t want Scout to feel pleasure; I wanted him to hurt. I want him to fear what damage I could be causing to his guts. I instinctively slapped him across the face with some force. This tipped me over the edge. “Argh! Fuck! Yes! Cunt! I’m breeding you again, you fuck’n pig.” My orgasm exploded and expelled all my strength and energy from my balls through my cock and out through my ejaculation, adding a second load to the dirty cunt. I didn’t stop fucking. Scout had so much cum in him. He was covered in it and his piss. I kept fucking until I had no energy left in me. I slowly came back down from my high and took in my surroundings. At what point did the old man take off? I had no idea how long I was in this frenetic state. My cock was still hard and wedged in Scout’s puffy hole. I knew if I pulled out, cum would gush out. I wanted it to gush into my mouth. So as quick as I pulled out, I bent down and cupped my mouth around Scout’s gaping hole to have the cocktail of old man and my cum squirt into my mouth. And that it did. A lot. The salty substance filled my mouth, and I savoured it as Scout’s puffy hole closed up. I lifted myself up and looked over Scout. His cheek was red. He was still tweaked out, but with a sense of fear in his eye. I wondered if he had a slight moment of regret. I didn’t. He was completely unprepared when I spat all the cum over his face. I fell on the bed next to him. Scout’s legs dropped like dead weights. We both huffed and puffed from the adrenaline we just endured. Guilt finally started to settle in. I looked over at Scout. “You okay?” He turned his cum and piss-covered face to me. “I love you, Daddy.” I held onto his words for a moment, then moved in and kissed him. Cum smearing over our faces. “Fuck me again. Daddy.” He called out as he pulled his cummy lips away from mine. “Please. Daddy. I need cock. I feel empty.” The meth was surging through Scouts. How much did he take? Feedback is always welcome. I would love to know what you think happens next.

TaKinGDeePanal That would be interesting. I guess we will see 😉

“Scout… what just happened?” My voice came out rough. “I—I didn’t mean for it to go there.” He shook his head gently. Calm. Certain. “Yeah, you did, Coach. And it’s okay.” He swallowed, then met my eyes. “It’s what I wanted. I wanted you to be my first. I trusted you with that.” The words landed heavier than anything that had come before. Not lust. Not heat. Something far more dangerous—meaning. The room felt suddenly smaller. Quieter. Like everything had narrowed down to that one truth, hanging between us, impossible to ignore. He wanted me to take his virginity, but I remember Scout begging me to stop. He was screaming in pain. “I loved it, Coach. I always fantasised you taking my virginity unforgivingly from the moment I first watched you jerking off in the showers.” Fuck! I knew someone was watching me. I had that feeling. ‘Coach. I knew I wanted you to take it. I want you to force me to accept it. I didn’t want to pretend. I needed you to push me over the edge. Push me into feeling scared and actually not wanting it so I could truly feel what it is like for a grown man to take what he wants.’ “You wanted to feel like you were being… Raped.” “Not feel like it. To actually be raped. I wanted you to stop, Coach. I was in so much pain. I begged you to stop… I didn’t just want to feel disgusted by what was happening to me. I was disgusted by what was happening to me. I hated what you were doing to me. When you moaned, you weren’t wearing a condom, and you were fucking me raw. I felt fear-I crossed over the line. I was scared shitless. For that moment you owned me, I had no sexual desire.” He placed his hand on my sweaty inner thigh iches away from my cum soaked balls. “I felt violated… Ashamed of what I let happen to me. For that moment, I was broken, and you took advantage of it… When you calmed down from destroying my arse. We heard the knock on the door. I could tell you were genuinely shocked. You had no idea what to do or what to think. I had to make it clear.” “Make what clear?” “I wanted you to do that. It was my choice to let you do that.” We spoke for a long time. That whole time, he did not clean his beautiful face. He liked feeling disgusting. I lit a joint to help us relax and sat near Scout. Uncertain of how close I could be, I occasionally touch his thigh. It was electric. He always fantasised about being raped. He fantasised about me raping him. He needed it, he said. While I was happy it wasn't what I thought I had done, the jig was up. The public saw me, a former professional football player, with another man. This was going to hit the media. This was going to have repunctuations. Sure enough, it did. A few days later, it detonated across one of the biggest papers in the country. Front page. No mercy. An ex-Australian football player was found in bed with a man less than half his age. No nuance. No context. Just scandal, served cold. By midday, I was summoned to the school office. They already knew. The meeting was short. Clinical. Sanitised language wrapped around a blunt outcome. I lost my position. Lost the team. Lost the shot at finals. Years of sweat and sacrifice were erased in under ten minutes. Scout tried to contain the damage. Spoke to the press. Made it clear it was consensual. That he wanted to be with me. Took the heat onto himself to shield what little I had left. The school sent him to counselling anyway. Liability management. Reputation control. And then there were his parents. When I walked out of the office, banned from setting foot on school grounds, they were waiting. Scout stood between them, rigid. His mother’s belly was beginning to round beneath her coat — a quiet, visible truth I couldn’t unsee. His father stepped forward. No words. Just violence. The punch came hard and fast, snapping my head sideways. White noise filled my ears. The taste of blood bloomed across my tongue. I staggered, barely staying upright. “You slimy fucking faggot.” There was distaste in his tone, “You are disgusting, evil fuckin cunt.” He went to slog me another one, but Scout stepped in the way. “Dad. Stop!” “I’ll get you for this.” He walked away. His wife followed. I stood there, frozen, watching the small swell of her belly as they disappeared down the corridor. The reality hit me like delayed shock—slow, then all at once. She was carrying my child. And in that moment, the full geometry of what I’d done finally snapped into focus. I had fucked my future child’s sibling. As for Scout. He was on my door every night. I had no doubt his parents were not happy about it. For the first couple of nights, we just talked and got high. Flirted a lot. I felt conflicted. I’m not gay… Maybe I was… I couldn’t be… But damn, is Scout beautiful. His masculine body, youthful looks, sexy light blond hair on his arms and legs, and that peach bum. It all had me tingling. Things progressed fast. More flirting, slight touches, fewer clothes. It was like slowly unwrapping a birthday gift. It was teasing me. I had not flogged my cock in a few days by this point. Then we were getting into harder gear. I was feeling guilty. I knew Scout was not doing his usual training. He was with me every night. We snorted coke, smoked joints, and smoked the pipe. Partying in my apartment. Then, one night, I took a chance and went a little further. Scout was in the living room, wearing nothing but a pair of white jocks, joint hanging from his mouth, sitting on the couch, flicking through old CDs I collected. “Coach. Are CD’s still a thing?” He thought his sarcasm was funny. “I collected CD’s from heavy metal bands. My father got me into music before he passed away. I guess I just started collecting CD’s as a way of remembering him.” I slipped a CD into the player. Nirvana. Not heavy metal, but fucking awesome. I admired Scout from a distance. I rubbed my bare nipple at the thought of touching him. I caved to my conflicting feelings about my sexuality. I moved in. Touched his jaw. He lifted his head. His face inches from my crotch. Scout could see through my jeans, the outline of my rock-hard cock. “Scout. What are we doing?” He looked up at my bare chest and into my stern eyes. “You know this is wrong, Scout. You know I shouldn’t be exposing you to all these drugs… Touching you the way I am right now.” “I don’t care-I…” “I? What? Scout?” He paused for a moment. I could read all the heavy thoughts flipping past like a hand thumbing the pages of a book. “I want it. I want you, coach. I’m-“ “I’m what? Scout?” He looked away. I held his jaw and turned his face back. “You trust me?” “Yes… Yes, Coach, I trust you.” “You will do anything I say. Anything I want.” “Yes.” “Even if it hurts… Even if I hurt you when I fucked you.” “You own my life.” He almost wept. “Let’s put it to the test.” I stepped back, letting go of his jaw. “Go out onto the balcony, naked, face me and jerk yourself off.” Scout didn’t say a word. He got up, and I watched him slip his white jocks past his perky arse and to the floor. His erect dick flicked out, pointing to the sun. The tip of his knob was slightly poking out from his foreskin. I undid my jeans and sat in the very spot where Scout had been sitting. “Before you go out there, take this.” I tossed him a bottle of poppers. I saw a little grin from the corner of Scout’s mouth. He walked into the midday sun, glass doors wide open. He leaned against the balcony frame and faced me. Sun reflected off his broad shoulders and firm, smooth chest. “Now pull on your cock, boy.” We went to it without any hesitation. He kicked off, tossing slowly. Like he was putting on a show. I didn’t want that. That was not my intention. I wanted him to blow his load in public to test his loyalty. “Jerk faster.” I could see he was a little concerned. I could tell he was horny and would cum if he did. I wanted him to cum. I wanted his orgasm. He picked up the pace. “Take the poppers and take one long sniff in each nostril.” He moved the brown bottle up to his left nostril and breathed in. I counted to 10. “Hold it.” Scout held his breath. I counted to 10. “Let go.” He breathed out. “Next nostril.” I could already see the rush hit him as his pale skin heated to a burning red. He moved the brown bottle to his right nostril. “Breath in.” He did. I counted to 12. “Hold it.” His eyes were bloodshot. He was buzzing. “Hold it. Jerk your cock. Fast.” He followed my command. I watched as his grip held his cock tight while he jerked. His biceps flexed at every stroke. His face was red like a beetroot from the lack of air, and his lungs were full of amyl. I slowly stroked my own cock at the mesmerising visual. “Don’t stop jerking. Breath out.” Scout did. The rush hit him. “I’m gonna cum.” I could tell he was trying to slow down. “Don’t stop. Keep pulling.” He picked his pace back up, and it tipped him over the edge. “Oh fuck!.” He moaned as shot after shot of his cum erupted from his cock, taking his orgasm with every one of them. I watched his youthful pearly whites shoot and splatter across the balcony concrete. A couple of his shots hit the glass panel of the sliding door. His breathing subsided as the last of his load seeped out of the slit of his knob and built up around his thick foreskin. Then, shock his cock to flick it off. His show got me on the edge of cumming, and I had to stop touching myself. “Holy shit, Coach. That was hot.” Scout said as he walked back into the apartment. I stood up. Cock raging hard. I slipped out of my jeans completely. Scout looked back at his load splattered across the balcony’s concrete floor and glass sliding door. “That’s a lot of cum, boy.” “Should I clean it up?” “No. Leave it there.” I stepped behind him. Close. Cradles his tender body as my cock pressed against the smooth ass cheeks. “Want me to shower?” He turned his head into my shoulder as I kissed his neck. “Coach?” “No.” I nudged the back of his legs to encourage him to kneel. “What are you doing?” “You said you would do anything for me.” I pushed Scout down. His face was only inches away from the cummy mess he left on the concrete balcony. I pushed his face the rest of the way, smearing that cum over his beautiful face. Bent over, ass sticking in the air. I pulled his ass cheeks wide, revealing his tiny pink boy hole. It looked exactly how I saw it the first time. Fresh, youthful. Practically still virgin. My cock hovered just above it. A tiny bit of precum built up at the tip. “Coach. I just came… I don’t want to.” “You said I own your life.” “Yeah.” The breath from his voice splattered into his cum. “Prove it.” I placed my knob in his pink hole. Only the tiny bit of precum at the tip of my cock was between me and his perfect pink bit. I forced my cock in balls deep. Scout’s hole gripped tight. I didn’t care. Scout did not have the strength to overpower me. My hard, ridged cock forced through, pulling the tender skin of Scout’s tiny pink hole with it. He screamed in pain. I grabbed his white jock and shoved it deep in his mouth, slapped him across the back of his head, and power fucked him. His ass gripped with every thrust. I had no doubt I was doing damage. Sure enough, my fucking started to feel slick. I could see a bit of red on my cock every time I thrust outward. Scout screamed into his jock. Cum smearing his face. He tried with all his power to pull away. I pinned his arms behind his back. I hocked up a big ball of spit and spat it across his face. It mixed in with his cum. I drove in harder. There was fear in his bloodshot eyes. “Yeah, boy.’” His tight grip on my cock was now slick from his torn-up tunnel. I was sliding in and out of him with ease. I didn’t hold up. I was in a state of wildness. “Faggot!” My hunger was in overdrive. I wanted to break him. I was breaking him. I could feel it building up inside me. I was getting close. Closer. Closer. ‘Huh… Oh fuck! Yes!!’ I moaned out loud. I lost control and felt my orgasm tip over the scale. I erupted. Cock pulsed I was cumming. I didn’t stop fucking. Scout didn’t stop screaming. I was smashing into him. My cum shot inside him as I kept on going. His hole gaped around my cock from his loss of muscle control. My cock was slick with cum. Like tipping a bottle of water upside down and undoing the lid, I felt my energy pour out of me through my orgasm. There was so much cum that it splashed against my pelvis, matting my pubes to my skin. I lost all sense of time and felt myself slow down. My cock was getting way too sensitive, and I pulled out as I regained my breathing. Scout’s puffy red hole remained open for a moment. He had not regained muscle control. My cum gushed out in that moment. Slashed across the Scouts’ balls and thighs. Then, like spurs on coral in an oceanic reef, Scout’s bashed whole clams shut. My sense slowly came back. I’m still holding Scout’s ass cheeks apart. The sounds of sobs grab my attention. In my moment of complete lust, I completely forgot about Scout. His mouth was still jammed full of his jock, face covered in his cum and my spit and crying. Holly shit. I did it again. I let go of his thighs and step back. My cock, still semi-hard, swung back and forth with every step. Scout slumped to the side. Sunlight glistened over the purely white mess on his face. He avoided putting pressure on his arse as he sat up slightly. He was still sobbing as he moved his hand and pressed his fingers against his tender hole. He flinched, and I knew it stung him. Let me know what you think of the story so far. And tell me where you think it leads.

Thank you for all the responses and feedback. here is the next part of the story. Let me know what you think and post what you think happens next. For the next couple of weeks. I tried to hook up with women. I would pick up chicks at bars, bring them home, and try to fuck them. I found that I wasn't getting hard enough, and the feeling wasn’t the same. I even booked an escort, and the same thing happened. I thought it was because I needed to fuck a sloppy, used hole. So, I organised my mate from the other night to come over and bang a bird with me. He was hesitant. He was married with kids, but we both knew he fucked behind her back. I fucked the bird after he had blown in her dozens of times, but my mind went to that boy’s beautiful, smooth body, perky white arse being fucked by a stranger… An older man. I went to my dealer. I needed what I had that night, which I learnt was meth. I asked him about poppers, and he, of course, knew what they were and had supplies. ‘Poppers.’ He said. ‘Yeah. I think that’s what it was called.’ My dealer just rolled his eyes. ‘How strong?’ ‘You sell it?’ ‘Yeah. I do. How strong?’ ‘Strongest you got.’ At first, it was casual. A smoke here, a smoke there. Weekend business. I’d still try to fuck girls, still go through the motions, still pretend my body was listening to the script I’d been handed. It never hit right. The release was there, but the spark? Dead on arrival. Then one night, I wandered back to that back room. Same door. Same low light. Same sense of stepping sideways out of the world. Inside, it was wall-to-wall blokes—old, young, built, broken, confident, desperate. Sweat, smoke, sex hanging in the air like a storm about to crack. I was raging hard, off my face, heart thumping like it wanted out of my chest. Whether I’d timed it perfectly or whether it was always like this didn’t matter—there was fucking everywhere. Bodies pressed, hands roaming, breathy sounds swallowed by the dark. Part of me still flinched at the idea of men on men. Old wiring dying slow. But I’d heard about glory holes. Urban myth made flesh. I shut myself into one of the booths. Tiny. Private. Loud in my head. I sat there for a moment, brain floating somewhere above the ceiling, cock heavy in my hand, answering a call I’d been dodging for years. Then— “Hey… can I suck it?” A whisper. Low. Close. Not from behind me. From the hole in the wall. I ignored it at first. Let the moment hang. Let the pulse build. Then something inside me finally unclenched. A quiet voice saying, stop fighting it. I never saw who it was. That was the point. Just a wall between us, solid and anonymous. I stood, guided myself forward, and pushed through the opening. The response was instant. Warm. Wet. A mouth closing around my cock with intention, not hesitation. Fuck. Whoever was on the other side knew exactly what they were doing. Took my cock deep, no theatrics, no mercy. No woman had ever handled me like that—so sure, so unafraid. My body answered before my head could catch up. I started moving. Slow at first. Then harder. The wall thudded as I lost rhythm, lost restraint, hips snapping forward like I was trying to disappear into it. The mouth didn’t retreat. If anything, it met me, took everything I gave. A hitch of breath. A gagged sound. Slicker now. Messier. Still there. I dragged the poppers under my nose, long and greedy, the room dissolving as I floated higher and higher. Everything narrowed to sensation. Heat, pressure, surrender. I didn’t last. Couldn’t. When it hit, it was violent and unstoppable, my cum spilling into the dark, erupting into a stranger who accepted it without a sound. No faces. No names. Just release. My worries about playing with men didn’t vanish overnight, but they thinned out, lost their grip. Curiosity outpaced fear. Before I knew it, that back room had me clocked as a regular. Familiar nods. Familiar heat. I started branching out—other cruise clubs, other shadows—and that’s where I learned about beats. Different geography, same hunger. I let blokes suck my cock without overthinking it. Watched men get fucked like it was live theatre, raw and unfiltered. No shame, no curtains. Just bodies doing what they wanted. My first time at a sauna was strange in how normal it felt. Like a football change room after training—same steam, same casual nudity, same sideways glances—except this time there was fucking and full-blown gay debauchery unfolding in every direction. And honestly? I didn’t hate it. I found myself studying physiques, appreciating strength, shape, presence. It felt honest. Unpretentious. Eventually, I wasn’t leaving the house for much else. Football coaching or cruising—that was the whole operating model. Everything else felt like admin. Busywork. Noise. My place was littered with paraphernalia. Pipes, baggies, the quiet evidence of a life slipping its leash. Control wasn’t gone yet, but it was wobbling. There were nights I turned up to football training high on meth—eyes sharp, patience thin, confidence blown out to dangerous proportions. I knew I was fraying. I just didn’t give a fuck. Finals were looming, and the team was humming. We were genuine contenders to take the season. On paper, everything looked solid. In reality, cracks were everywhere—especially with Scout. He wasn’t himself. Or maybe I was seeing him too clearly. I pulled the green light on him. Went hard. Harder than necessary. The team started whispering that I was favouring him, so I overcorrected—stares that lingered too long, pressure dialled up every chance I got. Punishment disguised as discipline. A few weeks out from the grand final, another training night rolled around. It was pissing down rain, cold and relentless. I didn’t soften it. Didn’t adjust the plan. I ran them into the ground anyway. By the end, they were wrecked—soaked, filthy, mud ground into skin and jerseys. Scout mouthed off. Pushed back. A fucking prick about it. I sent the rest of the team to the lockers, told them to clean up. Then I made Scout wait. Alone. Standing there in the rain and mud, while I let the silence do the work. “What the fuck’s going on, Scout?” I barked. “Finals are breathing down our necks and you’re acting like a complete wanker.” He just stood there in the rain, head bowed, water streaming through those sandy-blond curls. I clocked it. Hated that I clocked it. The night was doing strange things to my focus. “Scout.” “Mum’s pregnant.” That wasn’t on the training plan. “Oh.” I recalibrated. Corporate pivot. “That’s… that’s not a bad thing, mate. Why’s it got you this rattled?” I stepped closer, close enough to feel his heat through the cold. Grabbed his upper arms, gave him a small shake—half frustration, half something I didn’t have a label for yet. “Look at me.” He lifted his head. His eyes were wrecked—crystal blue, wet, lost. Not weakness. Confusion. The kind that pulls you under if you stare too long. “It’s yours.” “What?” “I saw that night. You were there.” My stomach dropped. Freefall. “Scout,” I said carefully, voice low now. “You’re jumping to conclusions. Adults fuck. It doesn’t mean—” “No,” he said, shaking his head. “Dad can’t have kids.” Silence punched in between us. Rain filled the gap. “Oh. Shit.” Before I could regain control—before I could coach my way out of it—he leaned in and kissed me. Soft. Brief. Electric. I froze. Thirty-plus years of rules, titles, and self-control screaming at once. Coach. Authority. Fucking adult. My body, however, missed the memo. He was 18. Yes. Legal age. But something felt wrong about it. Yet so right. Time slipped. Then snapped back. He pulled away first, eyes wide, already panicking. I was still standing there, rain dripping off my chin, pulse hammering in places it shouldn’t. “I—” he started. I should’ve stepped back. Should’ve shut it down. Instead, I bent forward and kissed him back; slower this time, deliberate, just long enough to admit the truth neither of us was saying out loud. The rain kept falling. And nothing was simple anymore. I poured a double rum over ice and necked it like it owed me money. Rolled a fifty, and laid out two lines on the marble bench. Snorted them without ceremony. The music was up, heavy metal, all distortion and threat, when the knock came. “Fuck. Not now,” I muttered. “Neighbours can fuck right off.” Another knock. Louder. My brain did the math at speed and came up with one answer I didn’t want. Scout’s dad. Holy shit. Either he was here to tell me I’d knocked up his wife… or to rearrange my face over what happened in the rain with his son. I poured another rum, swung it back, felt it burn all the way down. Liquid courage. Corporate risk management. I walked to the door, heart kicking, and pulled it open to whatever was coming. It wasn’t his dad. It was Scout. Soaked through. Hair plastered to his head. Rain dripping off his nose, his jacket, pooling at his feet like he’d been standing there longer than he should’ve. “Ah—Scout,” I said, buying time. “What are you doing here?” He opened his mouth. Closed it again. Words clearly stuck somewhere between his chest and his throat. “Come in.” I didn’t wait for permission. Threw an arm around his shoulders and guided him inside, quick glance over my shoulder to make sure no one was watching. Door shut. The lock clicked. The coke chose that moment to fully light me up. “Mate, you shouldn’t be here,” I said, too fast. “Fuck—you must be freezing.” I grabbed the throw rug off the big leather couch and tossed it at him. He caught it awkwardly, still half somewhere else, eyes darting around my place like he was already cataloguing the mess of it. Music thumping. Drugs humming. Rain left outside—but not really. The night had just escalated without a meeting invite. “I needed to see you.” “Shit… um. Now really isn’t a great time.” I glanced around the living area—drugs out, empty bottles everywhere, the place telling on me before I could. Scout drifted to the floor-to-ceiling windows, rain-streaked glass framing the Melbourne skyline like a postcard I didn’t deserve. “I knew you had a nice place,” he said, almost smiling. “Didn’t realise the view was this good.” “Yeah. Sorry.” I busied myself, scooping up empties, sliding a glass pipe off the coffee table like it hadn’t been there all along. “I wasn’t expecting anyone. What… what are you doing here?” He stepped in and tried to kiss me. I pulled away, heart punching, and retreated down the hall toward the kitchen. He followed. I dropped the bottles on the marble bench a little too hard. The coke was buzzing now, skin humming, thoughts outpacing judgment. He came up behind me. Close. Too close. His arms circled my waist; his hands slipped into my shorts. I wasn’t wearing jocks. He grabbed a hold of my shaft. I moaned at his touch. He squeezed slightly. My cock stiffened slightly. Intense, grounding and dangerous all at once. I sucked in a breath despite myself, my body reacting before my head could throw a flag. A low sound escaped me—half protest, half surrender. That was enough to snap me back. I caught his hands, untangled myself, and turned to face him. Put space between us. Not much, but deliberate. “Stop,” I said, quieter now. “We can’t just… do this.” The room felt smaller. Louder. Charged with everything we weren’t saying. “Yes,” he said, breath unsteady. “I want you. I always have.” He swallowed. “I’m in love with you, Coach.” “Scout… I’m not—” The words stalled. Weak. Unconvincing. “I’ve seen the way you look at me,” he pressed on. “After training. In the showers.” Not accusing. Certain. “Fuck.” My jaw tightened. “Scout, has anyone else seen you?” “No.” A pause. Then, softer—deadlier. “It’s our little secret. You… you open my eyes, Coach.” I turned away and headed back toward the living area, needing space, needing air. “You’re young,” I said, reaching for a reason like it might save us both. “You’re figuring yourself out.” He followed me. “I’ve done things,” he said behind me. “You know. I’ve… experimented.” I stopped. Looked back at him. “Done what?” He hesitated, then lifted his chin, defiant now. “I’ve sucked guys off before.” The admission hung there, quiet, deliberate, irreversible. The room felt tighter. Like a door closing somewhere I couldn’t see. I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. Scout started to tell me how he started fooling around with boys his age. But then his stories grew a little darker. He told me he has been going to beats and cruise clubs, and while he has not done a lot, he has sucked a lot of guys off. I was concerned for him. And I was. At first. But as he spoke, my body betrayed me. My cock was pushing through my shorts. Scout noticed. He told me how he met a guy close to my age; they didn't chat much. The guy gave him a smoke from a glass pipe, similar to what I had tried to hide. One thing led to another, and the guy took Scout to a private room, pulled his shorts down and ate out his arse. That surge of horniness rushed through him. In that moment, he wanted more. He hoped the guy would fuck him. The guy moved to Scout’s cock and blew him. Deep long strokes with his old man mouth. Scout felt his orgasm simmer, but he didn’t want to cum, so he pushed the old man off his cock. The man misread the moment. Or maybe read it exactly how he wanted. Scout described it like he was narrating a film he’d watched too many times, detached, oddly proud. Scout grabbed a hold of the old man’s boner sticking out from his aged body. Looked past the hairy belly and chest, and up into his drug-peaked eyes, then drove his dick balls deep down his throat. He reckons it was what he smoked that allowed him to go so deep. He had never done that before. The old man took it as a sign. Grabbed Scout by the back of his head and throat fucked him. There was a moment, he said, when he thought he might pass out. He remembered being so high that he didn’t care how the man was treating him. The man just fucked his throat, occasionally pulling all the way, then slamming it back in. Mucus puked everywhere, and Scout used all his willpower to push through and let the man fuck. The old man kept driving it deep. Scout felt his throat stretch open at every thrust. The old man moaned and announced he was going to blow. Scout thought he was going to shoot down his throat. Scout was prepared to get a good flood of this man’s cum, but he pulled out instead and unloaded over Scout’s face. My cock twitched at the thought of cum splattering over his beautiful young face. The story got me fucking horny, and the cocaine intensified it. I was sweating. I adjusted my cock. I noticed Scout. “Holy shit, Scout,” I said quietly. “Do your parents know you’re… gay?” “No. At least—I don’t think so.” He hesitated. “Dad wouldn’t take it well. He’s always going on about how dangerous gay men are. Says they don’t care who they hurt, who they infect. Talks about the seedy side of it like it’s all rot and disease.” “Because he works for the AFP,” I said. “Pretty much.” That did it. The buzz faltered, just enough for reality to punch through. I hadn’t thought about it before. Not properly. The risks. Infections. Consequences that don’t show up immediately but linger, waiting. I’d spent years convincing myself danger belonged to other people—reckless people. I stared at nothing for a moment, mind spiralling, and wondered, too late, too honestly, what you could catch just from letting someone get that close. Scout was shaking a little. Still wet. “Hold on, I’ll grab a proper towel.” I went to the bathroom and checked myself in the mirror. Fuck, I looked like shit, stubble beard, bloodshot eyes, sweating, dripping down my shirtless body. My cock. Raging hard. I knew I shouldn’t feel this way about him. Scout was only 18. But he was such a beautiful boy, I couldn’t control it. I walked back in with a towel and found Scout naked, sitting on the couch, with a glass pipe in his mouth, heating the bulb and sucking in deep. “Fuck! Scout. What are you doing?” “Relax. Coach. Join me. I know you want to.” He stood up I admired his beautiful, young, masculine, smooth body. His six-pack framed by his V-cut, pointing down to his perfect, uncut, semi-hard cock and low-hanging balls. I must have been daydreaming. “Coach.” He handed me the pipe and lighter. I grabbed the pipe, holding it steady as I locked eyes with him. His pupils were blown wide now; the drug was catching up, sinking its hooks in. I lit it and drew slow, deliberate, smoke curling between us. Scout dropped to his knees. The movement alone sent a jolt through me. I pushed my shorts down just enough to feel the air shift. My cock flung up. Raging. My knob pulsed. My body answered before my head could intervene. Everything in me was awake, pulsing, unapologetic. I took another drag and looked down. My cock was hovering just above his head. Just below his blue eyes and slightly floating above his perky lips. Blue eyes, glassy, fixed on mine. Breath shallow, like he was waiting for permission that neither of us was brave enough to name. Time slowed. Smoke hung. The room held its breath. Nothing touched yet, and somehow that made it worse. He opened his mouth and pushed it over my cock. Soft lips, moist mouth massaged as he went deep. My mind was in all sorts. Between a daydream and reality. It was hard to tell. Guys have sucked my cock. But that was through glory holes. I’ve never watched a guy actually suck my cock. And Scout. He wasn’t a guy. He was a young lad, 18. Devouring my cock like a starved animal. Blue eyes locked on me. Spelling the words with his dilated pupils, I belong to you. Long, deep strokes. He kept his pace. He didn’t slow down. Kept pumping my cock deep down his throat. The drugs were peaking through my system, and I wanted more. I grabbed the brown bottle from the coffee table. Undid the lid. Instantly, the aroma aroused my senses. I noticed Scout's eyes shift for the first time. Still deep throating my cock, making it slick with his saliva and mucus, he took an interest in what I had in my hand. His eyes followed as I moved the bottle to each nostril and took in two long, drawn-out sniffs in each. The instant rush hit me. Scout didn’t have to say a word for me to know that he wanted what I was having. I lowered it to his nostrils. He repeated what I did without removing my cock from his mouth. I was in a rush. Scout’s eyes burned through phases. First that pearl halo, until the whites went raw and veined, like the drug was repainting him from the inside out. Awake. Gone. Claimed by poppers. I needed more, so I had another sniff in each nostril. I was peaking off my face. In a haze, and I knew Scout was at that same level. My concerns about being sucked off by a man evaporated. I was hungry. Aggressive. I just wanted to fuck. I grabbed Scout by the back of his head and pushed my cock down his throat, feeling it break past his tonsils and down his throat pipe. I was too far gone to be concerned with his comfort and fucked. Hard. I pumped, driving it deep with every thrust. Planting Scout’s face into my pub, crushing his nose into my musky sweat odour, ensuring he could not get away from the potent aroma. He didn’t pull away. He loved it. Bathed in it. He gagged. I watched his body reflex as he held back a spew. I kept going. It turned me on. I wanted it. I wanted him to puke as I skull fucked him. I took it up a level. It hit the mark. Scout puked as I face fucked him. Stomach fluid expelled out from around his lips past my thrusting shaft, exploding over his beautiful young face, slashing up my torso. There was an obscene amount, and it flowed. Scout never closed his eyes. His face was covered in his own fluids. It was getting too much for me. I felt my balls tighten. I wanted to keep going, but I didn’t want it to end. I used all my willpower to stop and pull out of his mouth. Scout coughed instantly. He was air-deprived that whole time. “Are you okay, Scout?” He kept coughing for a moment, body shuddering, breath uneven. Then it passed. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, eyes still glassy. “No.” I paused. “No?” “I loved it.” “I like feeling dirty.” I grabbed a hold of my slick cock and jerked at the thought of Scout being a dirty boy. I was about to push my cock back into his mouth when he stood up and bent over the couch. He pointed his perfect pale peach of an arse at me. Legs spread, back arched enough that his cheeks spread open, revealing his tiny pink hole. Untouched. Young. Virgin. I had that moment of wonder. Am I dreaming? I never thought of myself as gay. I fucked women. So why am I so turned on by this young lad's arse? I had never felt such an intense drive build up from deep inside me like I did at that moment. Scout turned his head. Face coated in his own mucus and stomach fluids. Even in his messy, dirty state, he was perfect, sexy, handsome and fucking beautiful. He didn’t have to say it. I knew it. I knew what he wanted. Needed. “Are you sure?” His glassy blue eyes twinkled. “You have never been fucked. I am in my fifties. I am older than your dad.” He didn’t take his glassy blue eyes off me. I moved in close. My slick cock is only millimetres away from his pink bit. “You are about to lose your virginity to an old man. Is this what you want? How do you want to remember your first time?” I placed my knob at the entrance of his virgin hole. Spit moistened his entrance. I tossed him the brown bottle. I didn’t have to tell him what to do. He went to it like clockwork, taking two long whiffs in each nostril. As he held his breath, letting the poppers rush through his body. I pushed my knob against his tiny pink hole. The mucus from Scout’s throat allowed for perfect lubrication as I felt his pink break and expand over my knob. “Argh!” Scout moaned loudly. Letting go of the poppers in his system. I was raging. Wild like a wolf, desperate for a feed. I needed to be inside him. I didn’t stop. I kept pushing. Knob was well past his opening, and my shaft was driving deep. His tight pink hole was trying with all its might to grip on and stop me, but my strength overpowered it, and it gave way. I wasn’t going to stop. I was balls deep; Scout was moaning a mixture of pain and pleasure. I didn’t care that he was a virgin. When I fuck, I hammer, and that was what I intended to do. I power fucked from the get-go. Driving deep and pulling all the way out, watching his tight grip on my cock pull every time. He had no power over me, and I fucked. Scout moaned louder. He placed his hand against my thigh to try to get me to slow down. Maybe stop me. But I swatted it away and drove deeper. Harder. I grabbed the back of Scout’s neck and pushed his face into the leather couch. His eyes were crushed shut. Moaning in pain… Not Pleasure. Mucus spitting and splattering every time from each of his cries and pleas. I wasn’t going to stop. I needed to fuck. I needed to break the young lad in. “Mm, yeah… Take your coach’s cock. Feel it break you open. Ahh… No condom, boy. I’m inside you raw.” I was power fucking him. His moaning shifted to a scream of pain. His tone was a language of his feelings. Feelings of a moment, wanting to lose his virginity to his coach, to wondering if this was the right thing to do. The pain must have been overwhelming. The lad’s pink virgin hole went from a tiny button to an instant stretched out tunnel being pulverised. “Ugh. Fuck-” He moaned in pain, “Stop. It’s hurting.” I had no doubt the neighbours could hear. I didn’t give the young boy time to adjust. I was a starving animal finally devouring my kill. I had fucked a lot of pussy. But it had never felt the way his boy hole felt. My concerns about my feelings for the lad were gone. I was lost in a new sensation, and I wasn’t giving it up. I was deaf to Scout’s moans. The boy’s pink buttonhole was mine. I owned it. I had no idea how much time had passed. I was completely fixated on fucking. The sensation was building up in my balls. My cock was beginning to feel an impulsive eruption. Scout went silent. He surrendered to the invasion. He gave in to my power over him. No. I looked a little closer. He was weeping. I knew I was meant to feel sorrow, but instead it tipped me over the edge. I took him. I took his virginity. I broke the lad physically and mentally. The fear in his tears confirmed it. I lost control. “Ahh… I’m cumming, boy!!” I shouted from the rooftop. My balls tightened, and my cock erupted. I moaned. I jammed my cock inside the lad with every shot of my load, injecting inside him. I grip around his neck, tighten. The lad was limp. Turned into nothing but a hole for my use. It had been a long time since I unloaded the amount I knew I was injecting inside me. Women weren’t doing it for me, and I never got the power orgasm I was having in that moment. It was new, it was a sensation, it was like his hole was a vortex drawing my energy from my body through my cock and into it. I thought I owned it. But it owned me. It took me. I was the fly. It was the Venus Flytrap now sucking my life force through every ejaculation. I didn’t think it was going to end. The sensation was too overwhelming, and I was shaking, pushing on the edge of hurting. Eventually, it did. The vortex let go, and I was released. I slumped on top of the lad like a dead weight. Huffing and puffing like I just ran a marathon. Scout, he just lay there, weeping and with a look that clearly said. What did I do? I was sweating profusely. Drenched in my own moisture, dripping all over the boy. I slowly felt my breathing dialled down. As it did, my primal mind set reverted back to its normal state. It was here that I had my first concerning thought about Scout. Fuck. Scout. My cock is still solid and inside him. I lifted my weight off him. Pulled my cock back. Scout’s hole gripped tight. “Ah-!” Scout yelped. He was still so tight. My cock was wedged deep inside it. Scout cried. “Argh! It hurts.” I tried to pull back again, but his hold gripped tighter. Scout cried in pain again. “Scout. I need to pull out. Just push through the pain.” I moved slightly, and he cried in pain. I had no choice but to just pull back. Force Scout to just accept it. I pulled back. His hole gripped on. I watched my cock pull out with Scout’s tender red hole, dragging out with it until only my large knob was left inside. “Oh God. Please stop!” Scout yelped in a hyperventilating state. “Scout. My knob is still inside you. Your hole is gripped around it. The only way is for me to pull out and you release me. Just accept it. It will be over soon. Just-Just-” I didn’t give him a chance to answer, and I pulled out. His hole was forced to release my knob. Scout screamed. I watched his hole, and for a moment it remained wide open, unsure what to do with itself. Its lips were red, raw, puffy. My load had no barrier in that slight moment; it poured out like a river of white running down the back of the young lad’s smooth balls. Then it retracted. Scout’s hole closed in, leaving a tight, tiny, red, puffy hole. Broken in. No longer virgin. The sight of my cum layered over Scout’s balls was too much. That deep inner urge to eat pearly whites boiled over the edge. I knelt down and cupped them in my mouth like a suction cup and sucked them clean. Scout seemed to relax. His hyperventilation slowed down. After I cleaned every drop of my seed off his youthful ball sack, I planted myself on the couch close to Scout’s head, heaving a breath like I just ran a marathon. My cock was slick with Scout’s arse juices and my cum. Tiny streaks of red down the shaft. I did some damage to him. Guilty struck me. Fuck. Scout said no. He begged me to stop. I didn’t. Fuck. I’m an animal. Did I just do what I think I just did? Scout had not moved. His face was still planted on the leather couch, mucus-covered, with weeping eyes. His perfect pale peach arse was still sticking in the air. ‘Scout?’ Strings of mucus streaking over his lips flapped through each of his breaths as his adrenaline subsided. He mumbled from behind the spit, ‘Coach.’ ‘Scout. Are you ok?’ He didn’t answer. My guilt turned to worry. I think I did do what I think I did. There was a knock on the door. Fuck! The neighbours heard. I grabbed the nearest towel and wrapped it around my waist, hands shaking as I hauled the front door open. Old man Larry stood there, his wife tucked under his arm, both of them wearing that tight, polite concern people reserve for situations they don’t want details about. “Hi. Yes. Um… can I help you?” The words tripped over themselves. The towel barely stayed put. My hair was slicked to my forehead with sweat and product, skin flushed, pupils blown wide. I must’ve looked cooked. The air around me was heavy; The scent of sex wafted off me, which must have been overbearing for them. “Sorry, mate,” Larry said, clearing his throat. “We just… heard a lot of noise.” “We thought someone might be hurt,” his wife added gently. I froze. Full system shutdown. The silence stretched, thick and unforgiving. Then I felt a hand settle on my shoulder. Warm. Familiar. Scout stepped into view beside me, calm as anything. Naked. Unbothered. Like this was just another Tuesday night. “Everything okay here?” he said evenly. Larry blinked. His wife’s grip tightened on his arm. “Oh. Right. We—ah—sorry,” Larry muttered. “Didn’t mean to intrude.” “We should go,” his wife said quickly, steering him away. She glanced back once, twice, eyes flicking between us as they disappeared down the hall. The door clicked shut. Scout wandered back to the leather couch and dropped into it like he owned the place. Like nothing had just detonated. I stood there for a moment, breathing hard, adrenaline still fizzing through me. The room felt altered; charged, wrong, irreversible. I paced once. Twice. Then sat on the edge of the coffee table, close enough to feel his presence, far enough to pretend I was still in control. Neither of us spoke. The silence said enough.

If you want to know the lead-up to the moment in this story, follow the link below. I spent the next week thinking about Scout’s dad fucking his wife’s arse, and at football training, I kind of hoped his dad would visit and give me an opportunity to ask him more about it. Scout was still his distant self, so I told myself the best option was to keep treating him the same as the rest of the team. A few weeks had passed, no Scout’s dad and no fucking except for jerking off in the showers. Life was beginning to feel a little mundane. An old mate of mine from my pro football days hit me up, and we decided to go out and have a bloody good time. We kicked things off with a few lines of Coke to get the night rolling, then chilled on the deck with a smoke, beers in hand, before hitting the town’s bars. As midnight neared, we were hopping from pub to pub, deep into the night and feeling more raucous with each drink. We finally found a spot in the CBD to hang back and gather ourselves. My mate started telling me about his thatched roof back home—his wife had just found out he'd been seeing other girls behind her back. I shared a bit of my own past with my ex. He wasn’t exactly surprised; he used to be part of the footy crew that loved a party and a bit of trouble. He even reckoned he saw me eating her out after we all gangbanged her—that time’s stuck with him. Honestly, I sometimes wonder if he might’ve been the one who leaked those pics. We made our way to Collingwood. I think we grabbed an Uber. By this stage, I was fucked up. I drank and sniffed so much coke that time became a bit of a blur. I recall queuing up with my mate, trying to compose myself. My mate was in the same state. Music is pumping in the club, and I’m wondering where the fuck I was? ‘Oi, I know you lot. Used to play for the Rabbitohs, right?’ someone in the line said. ‘Used to, mate,’ my friend muttered. ‘Just so you know, this is a gay club,’ the random bloke added. ‘Fuck me!’ My mate and I burst into laughter. ‘Where the hell have you taken me?’ I asked him. He just laughed. ‘I dunno, mate. No idea how we even ended up here,’ he replied. We reached the front of the line, and the bouncer stopped us. He knew full well that we were too intoxicated, and after the comment from the random in the line, he refused us entry. I reckon because he was concerned we might cause a scene or start a fight if something were to happen. If someone were to try to make a pass at us. ‘I think it is time we call it.’ My mate said as we stood by the side of the road. He waved a taxi down. It pulled up and hopped in the back seat. ‘I’m gonna walk home, mate. I need to sober up.’ ‘Suit yourself.’ And the taxi left. I wandered the streets, having no idea where I was or where I was going. I needed a drink. Water. Something. I walked into a convenience store and walked up to the counter. ‘Where’s the fridge, mate?’ ‘Huh?’ the bloke behind the counter grunted, scratching his head. ‘Just a bottle of water, Ta. Thought I’d grab one while I’m here.’ ‘You’re in a bloody sex shop. We’re selling dildos, not bottles of water.’ I pulled my head in and looked around. I noticed a wall full of porn movies, cabinets full of dildos and all kinds of other sex toys. I had no idea how to describe or could never have envisioned how they would work. There were a couple of mannequins dressed in jockstraps and leather harnesses, which I initially thought were people and a door near the back with pink, purple, blue, and orange strips hanging in the front, waving about in the air, blowing out from behind them. ‘I need to sit down for a moment. Can I just sit?’ ‘Yeah. Out the back.’ The guys smirked. I brushed past the colourful strips into a dark and dim hallway. There was a faint beat to the low-level music. As I drew further in, the sound was soon drowned out by moaning and humping. The air had a dense, stale smell. Almost like cigarettes and a dirty men’s bathroom, but slightly different. Slightly mixed with the smell of sex. I entered a room lit only by a large screen at the far end and sat down. I must have dozed off. I slowly came to. Woken by a strange feeling on my cock. I opened my eyelids to find a man around my age sucking on my hard cock. ‘Fuck!’ I pushed him off my cock ‘What the fuck are you doing?’ ‘Wow. Sorry mate. I thought you were enjoying it. Seemed like it. You are rock hard.’ He was right. My cock was hard. But shit. I was out of it. I didn’t realise I was even getting a blow job. And from a guy from that matter. ‘Dude. I’m not gay.’ The guy sat next to me. He seemed a little puzzled, then pointed to the screen. ‘You realise you are in a gay cruise club.’ I looked at the screen to find two masculine blokes fucking. One guy with swimsuit tan lines on his arse bent over with another muscular guy fucking him from behind. ‘Jesus! How’d I get here?’ ‘Beats me, mate. But you are here.’ Every inch of my mind was telling me to get up and leave. But for some reason, I keep looking at the screen. Watching… Admiring the good-looking guys fucking. They reminded me of the lads from the football team I coach. I moved my hand to my cock and began to massage it. For a moment, I forgot the guy sitting next to me, then he caught my eye when he pulled out some glass pipe and a lighter. I turned to watch him heat the bulb at the end and smoke from it. He noticed I was watching. ‘Want to try some?’ He said as he exhaled a white cloud from his mouth. ‘What is it?’ ‘Think of it as a pick-me-up.’ ‘What? Like cocaine?’ ‘Even better. It will get you super horny.’ I figured, why the hell not? I had been partying all night, and I was already feeling a little horny from watching what was happening on the screen. I figured it might help me relax and not be so nervous about what I was watching. I grabbed the pipe, followed the guy's lead, heated the bulb at the end, and smoked. ‘Keep breathing in. Don’t stop.’ I didn’t. It was a rush of adrenaline that hit me from head to toe. I slowly exhaled and repeated the action. ‘There you go.’ I felt an instant need to fuck. I wanted to fuck. But I wasn’t going to fuck a guy. No way. But I didn’t mind watching the gay porn playing on the screen. So, I sat back and jerked for a while. ‘Enjoy your night, mate. I’d suggest exploring the club. You might be surprised.’ He hinted at me and walked off. Interested in what he suggested, I explored deeper into the dark venue. The intense stale smell got stronger the deeper I went. I had not realised how many people were in there. Men… Only men. My mind widened to who I was noticing. First, and most present were young guys, clearly drunk or high, then there were the really old men. Wrinkly, scaly, one had his shirt off, sitting on a bench, fiddling with his tiny dick. But then I noticed clean-looking guys, one in a suit sitting in a booth and a guy on his knees sucking his cock. Guys were at different stages of undress, but what caught my attention were those wearing leather harnesses or just walking around in jockstraps. One particular guy got my attention. He was large and burly, with a big, hairy belly, leaning against the entrance to a booth, wearing boots, jeans, a thick leather belt with a heavy-looking buckle, and a leather harness crisscrossing his large, hairy chest. His eyes locked onto mine, and he lifted a cigar to his lips. As he sucked, the end lit up, giving me a little bit of light to see his long, scruffy beard, then blew out the smoke, which I caught a whiff of as I walked past him. He stayed locked on me the whole time. I could hear the sound of moaning in the distance, the ruffling of what sounded like a large group of men and a hint of a thumping noise. The moaning didn’t sound normal, almost like a drunken, painful noise. Curious, I followed it to a dark room with just a sliver of light peeking through from the gay porn playing on a large screen over the other side of the wall. I walked in. It was crowded. Guys cramped in there, all facing the same direction. I could sense the rhythm of men jerking themselves, and in the middle, a figure getting fucked. I weaved my way in closer; my eyes began to adjust to the dim light. I made my way near the middle and bumped into who the guy was fucking. I was shocked at first. I couldn’t believe what I just walked into. A guy with his face and chest planted into a low, small bench big enough for only one person, while on his knees, spread wide and arse in the air, and a guy fucking him from behind. I was frozen in my state of surprise, but shocked that my instincts weren’t that of disgust. Instead, I felt my cock throbbing in my pants. ‘I’m not gay,’ I kept telling myself. Light kept flickering through. I caught glimpses of the men in the room. Some were young, fit, but most, in fact, I reckon nearly all of them were old men. Some seem like respectable older men, like the fella I saw in the hall wearing a suit, but most look weathered and gaunt. Cocks were out, guys were jerking themselves, and they all had one thing on their mind: to watch this guy face-plant in the bench getting railed. ‘Fuck, yeah. I’m cumming.’ The guy fucking moaned out. ‘Yeah. Give him your load.’ Some said in the crowd ‘Dump in him.’ Said another, somewhere in the back. The guy fucking jittered, and his fucking shortened to quick jabs as he unloaded on the guy. He slipped out as he wiped the sweat off his brow. I couldn’t believe what I just watched. I couldn’t believe that I had a rock-hard boner in my pants from it. And just as I thought the show was over, another guy moved in behind the guy. This guy was much older with a long, solid cock, and he just pushed in balls deep and started fucking. The original guy who just unloaded his cum on the guy disappeared into the crowd. All the while, the guy being fucked, moaned and grunted. It was hard to tell whether he liked it or was in agony. This was all too much. I was peaking from what I had smoked earlier and was uncontrollably horny. I unzipped my pants, pulled them halfway down my hairy thighs and grabbed a hold of my cock and jerked away like the rest of the guys in there. The light flickered again, and I could see a glimpse of the guy with his arse in the air getting fucked with his face planted into the bench. I was surprised by how young the guy was; he couldn’t have been more than 19, with sandy blonde hair and a nice physique. Kinder reminded me of Scout. As the light flickered across his face, I noticed that he seemed semiconscious. He was kinder awake, but not. His eyes were kinder open, and from what I could see, they seemed to roll to the back of his head. ‘He took a fuck load of G.’ Some leaned in and murmured into my ear. G, that was the stuff the gang of blokes gave my ex-wife when they gangbanged her. The guy who murmured into my ear moved a little brown bottle up to his nose and took a huge sniff up each nostril. He must have noticed I was watching and offered it to me. ‘What is it?’ I whispered. ‘You’ll thank me after.’ I took the bottle and followed his lead. Instantly, the already pulsing meth in my system that had me horny as fuck, elevated to a whole new level. I felt an instant rush through my body. I was gone. My concerns about my sexuality evaporated, and I was completely hooked on what I was watching. I jerked furiously. The young man with his head planted on the bench was only centimetres away from me. I watched his body being thumped to the rhythm of the old man fucking him in the arse. Every time the light flickered on his face, my cock throbbed just a little harder. The guy next to me passed his brown bottle to me again. I took another two big sniffs up each nostril. The rush hit me again. My brain buzzed. ‘What is this?’ I whispered. ‘Poppers, mate.’ I needed to get some of it for myself. ‘Fuck yeah, boy. You’re about to get my seed.’ The guy fucking yelled out. ‘Yeah! Breed him.’ Someone in the crowd followed. ‘Get him pregnant.’ Another said. Get him pregnant? I laughed to myself. How funny. He is a boy. The guys fucking started to moan and held onto the boy’s hips tight. He was cumming. He must have had a huge load, because he was in that position for a while. He pulled out, and another stepped up and pushed his cock into the boy, who moaned. ‘Fuck. How many guys have fucked him?’ I whispered again. ‘Since I have been here. I have watched 8 guys fuck and breed him.’ ‘8 guys. What?! And he knows who these guys are?’ ‘Nah mate. He is a cumdump. He doesn’t know who is fucking him. He is only here as a hole for strangers to use and breed.’ The thought of this young boy, no more than 19 years old, completely high on G, getting fucked without any protection by strangers, while semiconscious, was too much for me, and I lost control. I jerked really fast, and I felt my orgasm rise. I moaned out loud, followed by a torrent of cum shooting all over the back of the boy’s head, the side of his face and his shoulder blades. My cumming must have set off a chain reaction. I heard another guy in the dark moan, and through the glimpse of light, I saw a large cock hovering just over the boy’s head, being jerked off and ejaculating all over the boy’s face, mixed with my load. I woke up to a hand tapping me on the shoulder. ‘Dude. It is closing time.’ My eyes sprang open. Static on the large monitor. My pants were down to my ankles, my soft, crusty cock flopped over my thigh. The guy from the counter was standing over me. ‘Clearly you had a good time.’ I must have passed out. I had no idea how long I had been slumped in the chair like this. I stumbled to my feet, pulling my pants back up and left. I showered, my mind flickering through what I watched the night before. I kept telling myself that I am no faggot, and it was the drugs that made me think and feel the way I felt. But the young lad taking dick after dick and never seeing who they were kept springing to the front of my mind, and I was raging hard. I jerked off in the shower and sprayed my load across the tiled wall. ‘Fuck’, I thought. ‘What the fuck is wrong with me?’ I had to do something about it. Let me know what you think. And tell me what you think happens next.

The next few weeks were horrible for me. I drank a lot more. Snorted an obscene amount of Coke, barely shaved and was going days not leaving my apartment. My boss noticed a change in my behaviour and, having recently learnt that my wife had left, he encouraged me to take long service leave. I was fucked up, but the one thing that I always remained focused on was the footy game. It was early season, and we had already won the first two rounds. There was no fucking about. We were in fine form last season, but lost the grand finale. Not this year. I was on the boy’s back at every moment. Training was abusive, I pushed them to the extreme, and when I saw one of them falling behind, I was given a god spray. Particularly, the team captain, a young fit lad, a league ahead of the rest; however, I notice a slight shift in him. Coming to the training a little late, not performing at his peak. In this one particular training session, I noticed him fumbling with the ball too many times. I tried to be a bit tougher on him. Locker rooms were the norm. The lads would be larrikins, occasionally whacking a team mate on the arse with a towel. A bit of name-calling, like homo, or fag, and playing pranks on each other. The usual boy locker room shit. The boys had gotten changed and left, and I went to do my usual wank in the shower. I stripped, threw a towel over my shoulder, and didn’t bother wrapping it around my waist, knowing I was on my own and headed for the showers. Only this time, when I walked over, I found the team captain crouched down against the tiled wall, water spraying over his toned, muscular body, head between his knees, crying. I quickly wrapped the towel around my waist. I stood there for a moment, admiring the light bouncing off his pale, wet skin, highlighting every tone and curve of his fit body. I quickly shook my head, reminding myself to stop having gay thoughts. The lad is clearly distressed. ‘Scout. You ok?’ He quickly lifted his head. Bloodshot eyes looked straight at me. I sensed for a moment he had forgotten where he was. He swiftly pushed himself off the shower floor, trying to hide his rather long cock. I shook my head again to stop myself from staring. He grabbed his towel from the rack and hurriedly wrapped it around his waist. ‘Are you okay?’ ‘Oh, um. Yes, coach.’ ‘You’re crying.’ ‘No, no. I’m good.’ I walked up to him. I started to wonder if I was pushing him too hard on the footy field. ‘Scout. Seriously, mate. You can have a chinwag with me. Was I pushin' you too hard out there on the field tonight?’ ‘Nah, all good, coach… I’m gonna go get changed now.’ He headed off, but hesitated for a moment. That night, sleep eluded me. My thoughts kept returning to Scout. The boy was clearly troubled, and I couldn't help but dwell on the possible reasons behind his distress. My mind then subtly shifted to thoughts of his physique—his body’s compelling outline. I fought to dismiss the images, yet my concern for him remained, craving to comfort him, to reassure him that all would be well. I’ve always held a soft spot for Scout, having appointed him captain of the team, seeing him as a beacon for the others. A promising future seemed to lie ahead for him, and I was determined to support him in every way. Perhaps that was also why I was a little harder on him than on the others. Suddenly, my thoughts drifted to the smooth, well-shaped curve of his arse, the gentle dimples catching the faint light on each cheek. This time, I didn’t push the thought away. I let the thought roll around in my head, slow and dangerous. My cock answered before I did, stiff and insistent. I wrapped my hand around it and started to jerk it, caught in the image of him like a snag on a barbie you can’t stop thinking about. His long cock hung heavy between his legs, framed by soft, sandy-blonde pubes, still damp, curling up towards his belly button as they belong there. His abs told a story of years of punishment and discipline; his nipples were hard against a chest carved sharp and sure. I couldn’t hold back. I pumped myself harder, chasing that familiar edge, body tightening, breath shallow. Then it hit, everything draining out of me in thick, relentless squirts, my cock emptying itself without mercy. Cum splattered the sheets, one pulse after another, until they were soaked through. I sleep naked, always have. That night, I didn’t bother with clean-up and shame. I stayed there, spent and sticky, cocooned in the mess, and let sleep take me as I was. The next coaching session was like clockwork. Hard, brutal, no shortcuts. I drove the lads to the edge, then nudged them past it. Pushed the boys to their limit. We had a final to win, and I wasn’t about to let it piss away because someone went soft. Scout was off his game, still not firing at full throttle. I eased up on him a tough, pretended it was tactical, not instinctive. Took every scrap of discipline I had not to let my head wander where it didn’t belong. Something in me was shifting, and I didn’t like it. I’m not a fag. I’m into women. So why was my mind suddenly rerouting itself? Throwing images I hadn’t ordered? I tried to wrestle control back by thinking of the fact that I let men fuck my wife, filling her up with their cum. Her arse tight. Her mouth open. Cum spilling where it shouldn’t. Even that felt off, like my brain was testing boundaries just to see which ones would crack. Then a hand landed on my shoulder. I jumped like I had been shot. ‘Evening, Coach.’ It was Scout’s old man. ‘Fuck – Jesus Christ.’ I snapped. ‘Nearly gave me a heart attack.’ He laughed ‘Sorry mate. You looked miles away. I thought I’d better announce myself. How’s the training session?’ Just another night on the field. Same drills. Same pressure. Same secrets sitting heavy under the surface, waiting for their moment to break through. I was still a little startled. My mind was thinking about sloppy cunts and wet cocks. My cock was pressing against my gym shorts. I had no doubt he could see it. I quickly shook the thoughts away and focused on Scout’s dad. I had to break the silence. ‘Good. The boys are ready to take the win. Your son, though. Something is up there.’ ‘Yeah. Well. That’s why I am here.’ Fuck! Did Scout tell his dad about what happened in the showers? I wondered. ‘He mentioned you’ve been giving him a bit more stick than usual.’ ‘Yeah, fair enough. Sorry, mate. I’m just keen to score the win.’ ‘No worries. He’s on the same page. But he’s going through a rough patch, I reckon. Not sure what’s up—maybe an identity thing, I suppose.’ ‘Righto. Makes sense, I guess. Pressure’s heaps—last year at school, gotta come out on top, thinking about the future.’ ‘And the girls, too,’ I laughed. ‘Oh yeah. Girls. The biggest young man problem of them all.’ ‘Haha. Yeah. Tell me about it. Scout just broke up with his girlfriend.’ ‘I didn’t know he had one.’ ‘Yeah. He did. And he called it off. But I think it has messed with him.’ I turned to watch the boys as they did their pass-and-dodge circuit. The balls slipped through Scout’s hands, but he quickly recovered and hand-balled them to the next lad. ‘Anyway, I just wanted to see if you’re keen to come over to ours tonight. We can have a chat, talk it through, and come up with some solid ways to support Scout.’ I thought about it for a while. It wasn’t like I had much to do. I was going to rack up some lines, chuck music on and drink a few scotches, watch gangbanging porn until passing out on the couch. The usual midweek evening I would have. ‘Yeah. Sure. Why not.’ The night settled in easily, warm and smoky. Scout’s dad fired up the barbie, the smell of meat and char drifting through the yard like a promise. Scout himself vanished upstairs early, holed up in his room, while his dad, his wife, and I parked ourselves around the fire pit with beers in hand. The flames did most of the talking at first. We chatted about Scout, how he was going, what he needed to sharpen up, then the spotlight drifted onto me. My footy days. The rise, the fall, the bit everyone pretended not to be curious about. By then, I was a few beers past cautious and sliding comfortably into honest. Maybe too honest. They learned a little when I spoke, eyes bright in that way that says go on. I did. The night dragged on. Quiet crept in. I clocked the house and noticed Scout’s bedroom light was out; he must’ve gone to bed. Just us and the fire now, embers popping, bottles clinking. While I was mid-story, Scout’s dad’s wife shifted and settled herself onto his lap, casual as anything. His arm wrapped around her, missing a beat as he kept talking, telling me about his work with the federal police, voice steady, authoritative. The flames danced. The beer buzzed. Something about the closeness, the ease of it, made the air feel thicker. I listened, nodded along, but part of me was elsewhere, watching, registering, filing things away I didn’t quite know what to do with yet. ‘You must see some proper cooked stuff in your line of work.’ He gave a short laugh, took a pull from his beer. ‘You’ve got no idea.’ As he spoke, his hand slipped to the small of his wife’s back. Familiar, proprietary. Too familiar. I clocked it, pretended I didn’t. He kept talking, Global crime syndicate, long nights, things you don’t write down, but my attention was snagged on the way her breath changed, the way she leaned back into him like it was muscle memory. His hand was deep in there. If I didn’t know any better, he was fingering her. Then she looked straight at me. ‘Does this make you uncomfortable?’ She asked lightly. I nearly choke on my drink. ‘Sorry – what?’ She smiled. Not apologetic. Curious. ‘Do you like watching my husband finger me?’ Before I could scramble for a response, he cut in, calm as anything. ‘We know your history. We’re not exactly the beige curtains, white picket fence types.’ We sat and chatted a little more about Scout and football, while Scout’s father fingered his wife while she sat on his lap. I was getting aroused and had to adjust my hard-on a few times. I tried to be subtle, but as the chat went on, I made it obvious my cock was throbbing. The flames in the charcoal turned to a simmer, and the night started to get cold. Scout’s mother made an excuse about needing to wash some dishes and made her way inside. Eventually, she stood. ‘I might head inside, dishes won’t do themselves.’ He nodded. Then looked at me, ‘Scotch?’ Inside the house, it felt quieter. Thicker. He disappeared toward the kitchen. I sat on the couch. She reappeared naked except for a pair of heels, as if this had already been decided. ‘We’re all adults.’ She said softly. ‘Scout’s asleep. Or busy. Either way, this isn’t about him.’ She stepped closer, between my knees, close enough that I had to look up at her. She grabbed my tee and lifted it over my head. ‘Lean back.’ I did, and she grabbed the elastic waistband of my shorts and pulled them down to my ankles. I wasn’t wearing jocks, my cock flung straight up. She wrapped her hand around my shaft, being careful not to scratch me with her long red nails, then moved her mouth over my cock. She is clearly a pro at sucking cock; she was going deep the moment my cock was in her mouth. I’m not much for oral. I am a pussy guy, but I wasn’t going to complain. She sucked my cock for a while. Making it nice and slick. I was caught up in the moment for a brief moment before I realized her husband could walk in at any time. ‘Are you sure this is ok?’ She stopped sucking my cock, which was now slick with her saliva and looked at me for a second, then stood up and stepped over me. Her slit was barely a metre away from my face. Smooth with a little bit of pube just at the top. She was nice and tucked. I prefer a tucked cunt. I thought she was going to make me eat her out. Which I would have been fine to do, but then she lowered herself on my cock and slid down to the base. ‘Argh! Fuck yeah,’ I moaned. She moved with purpose as she fuck herself on my shaft. I dug my hands into her perky arse, a solid grip, guiding her like I owned the moment. I was getting lost in our fuck. She rode it hard, desperate, every moment sending sparks straight up my spine. Her breathing broke apart, little sounds slipped out that she didn’t bother to stop. She folded forward, pressing her head into my shoulder, clinging to me like I was the only thing holdeing her together. And then the air changed. I felt him before I saw him, heat at my back, a presence that sucked the oxygen out of the room. Scout’s dad stood behind us, naked, unapologetically pulling on his thick, long cock the size of a salami. Eyes locked on mine. There was something feral in the look, something final. He stepped in close. She grasped, body arching instinctively, knowing exactly what was coming and wanted it. He took hold of her hips, rough and certain, pulling her back against his cock. The force of it drove a sound out of her that went straight through me, raw, wrecked, needy. His cock was balls deep inside his wife’s arse. I held her steady as he took over the pace. Her body caught between us, pushed and pulled, completely undone. The room filled with breath and skin and the sound of losing control. I wasn’t thinking anymore. None of us were. She moaned in uncontrollable, animalistic pleasure. Scout had to have heard her. Scout’s dad fucked hard, unforgivingly, with one mission. It was too much for me. I had to stop thrusting to control myself from orgasming, but the feeling of his cock pumping through the walls of her pussy, massaging my cock with every one of his thrusting motions, was all too stimulating for me. ‘I’m gonna cum. Fuck! Yeah, I’m cumming!’ My loud cries echoed off the walls. My cock pulsated as shot after shot of my spunk filled her cunt. Scout’s dad did not stop. Rather, he picked up the pace and fucked harder. ‘I’m about to join you. Fuck yeah. I’m gonna cum in your arse, honey.’ His pumps shorten. ‘Fuckkk!!!! Yeah. Take daddy’s fucking load.’ I could feel his cock through the walls of her cunt pulse as he shot his load in her. It went on for what felt like an eternity. And we held our position for a while longer. Scout’s dad pulled out. I was so turned on, I was still hard, I lifted her off my cock, a trickle of cum dripped over my stomach. She stayed on the couch, bent over. I leaned forward to see her arse poking into the air, dripping with cum simultaneously with her used pussy. They mentioned they knew what I was into, so I didn’t even bother to look at Scout’s dad to get permission, got behind her, my hairy arse sticking in the air, I planted my mouth over her arse hole and started sucking away to eat all of his cum out of her puffy arse. While I sucked and tongued her arse hole, I used my finger to work my cum into her pussy, occasionally going down to it and sucking it like a lollypop. This will be the last part of this story in this chat. You will find the continuation in the Gay Bareback Chem Fiction chat. Let me know what you think and what happens next.

Sorry everyone. I got in trouble for posting this story in the wrong chat. Thank you to those who have made. barebackbro thank you for the pick up. I'm an Essendon supporter and I should know that a Brownlow is an award for AFL. Let's go with it. Anyway, the story continues. Let me know what you think and what you think happens next. She sensed that I just was not into it and remembered what I am now renowned for. Eating cum from pussy. So, she set up the whole thing. Our sexual life took a hot turn. We would go to bars and check out men. She would insist that I pick out the guys. At first, I thought it was unnerving. Checking out guys is gay. I’m not gay. It was the sight of a dripping wet pussy that got me off. Occasionally, my mind went to the vision of a glistening cock, but I would shake the thought away. But she insisted, so I was soon checking out guys. I would select the guy, and she would make her flirty move on him. Soon enough, she would be in the toilets getting railed. We would head home for me fuck her cummy cunt. At first, I would pick good-looking fellas. Tall, very fit, and modal material types. Eventually, we would be more upfront about what we are doing and found that there was significant interest. One guy called it cuckold. I didn’t know it was a term. The random guys would fuck and use my wife while I would watch. Then, when they unload in her, I would take sloppy seconds. Sometimes the guys would stay and watch. Other times, they would leave while I bathed in the cummy mess. Over time, my selection of men started to change. Yeah, I would go for the hottest guy in the room, but something started to change. I found myself looking for particular types. Burley types, real masculine, high testosterone guys pushing on the side of aggressive and unforgiving. I felt a tingle. But I would shake it off and tell myself it is the game my wife and I are playing, that’s all. One particular night, I chose the large, lumberjack-type guy. We were in a seedy pub. I found that that’s where we get the best type of men. He didn’t give much away. Seemed expressionless, unimpressed. A dirt-unshaven beard, and looked as though he had just finished work and went straight out for Friday beers with his boys, judging by his dirty jeans and stained shirt. I guessed a diesel fitter. We decided to book a hotel instead of heading to our penthouse. He would meet us there. My wife got herself ready by stripping down to her sexy lingerie. I set up the mood lighting and went to grab a few drinks from the minibar. But realised they had none. I took off to buy some booze. It took me a little longer than I had hoped because I wasn’t familiar with that area of Melbourne. When I finally returned, I could hear moaning and thumping from our room. I swiped the card and walked in. The lumberjack was her, and he was already deep inside my wife. But he wasn’t alone; he brought with him his four buddies from the bar. These guys were large men, just as rough-looking and varied in age from mid-30s to around my age, 50s. The youngest fella noticed me standing there, stunned. ‘Her old man is back.’ He pointed out to the rest of the guys, who had their attention on their mate, fucking my wife hard. To my surprise, my wife had no concern. He moaned while her leg flapped around with every thrust from the lumberjack. I was rock hard. My jocks strained my cock. I had to pull it out. I put the booze down on the side bench and noticed a plate with lines raked up. Fuck! I knew straight away that these fellas meant to party. ‘Help yourself.’ The older guy said, pulling his t-shirt off to reveal a fully tattooed, slightly out-of-shape, but bulky body. I went straight to the coke and sniffed two lines. By this stage, all the men were undressed. My wife moaned really loudly. ‘Yeah, cum for me bitch.’ He picked up his pace. I could tell she was cumming by the way her body shivered. I have never had her cum for me. ‘Argh! Yeah, oh yeah. I’m cumming!' She squealed. The lumberjack did not hold up. He kept fucking her hard. I could hear the wet, splashy sounds coming from the penetration. She began to settle, but he kept powering through. I looked at her, and I could tell she was spent. But it was clear that he was not done, and there were still four other blokes to have their way with her. I saw one of the blokes grab a bottle of Coca-Cola I'd bought as a mixer for the scotch I'd bought. He poured a glass, and I saw him pour another liquid into it. He walked over to my wife, and the lumberjack stopped for a moment. ‘Here, drink this. It will help you relax and get really into it.’ She looked at me, and I gave her the ‘Do as you want’ look in return. She drank it. ‘Good girl.’ Said another bloke. ‘Tonight, you are in for a ride.’ ‘You are gonna get a lot of cock.’ The older guy followed. The lumberjack began to fuck her. He kept at a slow pace and watched until he saw the effect of what they gave her kick in. I could sense that she was high on whatever they gave her, and the lumberjack picked up the pace again. By this stage, I was naked on the couch, jerking off at the show. The rest of the blokes were circled around the bed. My wife, in the middle, getting railed by the massive bloke. I could see what was going on through the gap of two hairy thighs. The lumberjack’s hairy arse is pumping up and down hard and fast. His pace started to shorten and become a little erratic. ‘None of us pulls out. I hope you are on birth control.’ The lumberjack groaned, ‘Because I’m about to blow.’ He barely finished his sentence, and he began to cum. ‘ARGH! I’m cumming.’ He held her tight. Cock deep inside her as his body shivered and shook. He seemed to unload in her for a long time. ‘He is a heavy cummer.’ One of the blokes said, ‘I’m next.’ The lumberjack slowly pulled out, and that’s when I got to see his cock for the first time. It was thick and veny… And wet with her juices and his cum. I jacked off hard, my tongue hanging out, drooling from the mouth. ‘Look at her husband.’ The older man laughed, ‘He’s fucking getting off on it.’ ‘He looks like a starving animal.’ I was, and I couldn’t hold off any longer and just unloaded all over my stomach and hairy chest. I felt all my energy being pulled through my cock and into my ejaculation. I had not blown a load like that in ages. I was drenched in my own cum. By this stage, one of the other men was in position and pushed his long cock into my wife and fucked hard from the get-go. She was wet, open, and he knew she could take it. The night went on like this while I sat back and watched. I did not fuck her that night. The men kept giving her what I learnt to be G., and while they did fuck and use her, I was surprised by the respect they had. Occasionally, they would check in on her. She was in heaven and willing to let them do as they pleased. I never saw her get so relaxed and slutty horny like that with me. She was a completely different person. So they kept using her like a whore, and she loved every bit of it. I sat back, drenched in my own cum. Some of it was on my collarbone, and I don’t know what came over me, but I scooped it up and ate it. ‘Oh, look, guys. He’s a fucking cum eater.’ The men laughed at me. It must have been 4 am by the time the fucking mellowed down. I had so many lines of coke, I was practically tweaking. The blokes were chilling out and admired my wife’s sloppy cunt. I crawled towards her on all fours. ‘Fuck boys. Look at this.’ I got between her legs on my hands and knees. My hairy arse in the air. I planted my face in her cunt and ate away. She moaned as I sucked and chewed and licked at her sloppy, used pussy. I don’t know how long I was down there for, but when I lifted my face up for air, I noticed that the blokes had all bailed. The next few months had a shift in the air. My wife was quiet. Distant. We didn’t argue, but I could tell that there was tension in the air. Wondered if I crossed the line by allowing five men to gangbang her. We didn’t have sex, and I was reduced to pulling my dick in the shower. The feeling was just not the same. I focused my time and energy on work and coaching the high school footy team. It was mid-season, and my team was in peak form, having only lost one game at the beginning of the season. I would push them. Give them the no bullshit treatment. Heavy sprays when I was not happy with their performance, but good recognition when they outdid themselves. They were a good bunch of boys. I noticed that something in me changed, though. I never look at guys sexually. Men were just lads in my view. But since picking out guys to fuck my wife, it opened up a side of my mind, thoughts and feelings I did not know I had. At first, I would push them aside the moment they surfaced, but over time, they grew a little more tense and stuck around longer. I was looking at guys sexually, and it fucked with my mind. I was drinking a lot more and on Coke every weekend. My wife noticed. I knew I had a problem when I found myself checking out the footy team. They were all seniors, aged 18. But still. I knew it was not right for me, being a 52-year-old, looking at these young 18-year-old lads. It took a lot of mental energy to keep my eyes away from the perky peach bums as they hit the showers or watched them dry off. I had to make an effort to keep myself out of the locker room. Once they all got changed and left, I would hit the shower and jerk off to get it out of my system. One time, after the lads had left and I was in the shower, I had my head leaning against the tiled wall, hot water spraying across my solid hairy shoulders and back, fist wrapped around my hard cock, pumping away hard and just as I was cumming, I heard a sound near the lockers. I lifted my head as I swung around, cum shooting everywhere, just to see who or what was making that noise, but there was no one there. I resigned to the thought that it was just in my mind. That night, I got home to find my wife sitting on the large marble kitchen bench, an overnight bag next to her. ‘Going somewhere?’ She looked up at me. ‘I’m pregnant.’ My mind raced. I got her pregnant? I thought a little harder. It has been nearly five months since I fucked her. It is possible. Maybe. Then I realised. She was not pregnant by me, but by one of the five guys who gangbanged her a couple of months ago. ‘Oh shit. Honey… Um, I don’t know what to say.’ ‘You know who got me pregnant.’ It wasn’t a question. ‘It must have happened from the unplanned gangbang.’ She was silent for a moment. ‘Honey?’ ‘Did you get their names and numbers. Anything?’ ‘No. I didn’t. I didn’t think we would need to. I didn’t think we would see them again.’ ‘So we know nothing about who they are or where they are from.’ ‘I know nothing, honey. I wasn’t really thinking straight. I was lost in the moment.’ She was silent for a moment again. ‘So what are you going to do? You’re not going to keep it, are you?’ ‘I knew you were going to ask me that. And yes. I’m keeping it.’ ‘What?’ I was getting a little annoyed, ‘You are going to keep it, knowing nothing about who the father could be and having no way of finding out who he could be? I’m sorry, but I just can’t do that. I just can’t live with a child that is not mine and having no idea whose it could be.’ Silence again. ‘Yes… I’m keeping it. And I am leaving.’ ‘What?’ ‘I know you. I won’t force you to change... I am having my baby... But it is more than that. Since that night, you have been drinking every night and snorting a lot of coke. You are stuck in your old ways again. If I am having this baby, I can’t be around it.’ She grabbed her overnight bag and walked over to me. Kissed my cheek and left. I was alone in my massive penthouse. Have your input. What do you think happens next?

It’s been a while since I last wrote a story. This one ended up being about 37,000 words and 72 pages. I'm not a professional writer and I’m sure there are flaws—my apologies in advance. I really enjoy hearing feedback and hearing about others’ experiences and stories. Piggier, the better. If you have a memorable moment you’d like to share, feel free to do so. I’m eager to hear it. I’d also love to hear your feedback on this story. Where do you think it’s headed? I made my fortune playing footy in my early days. I was a rugby player and played for 10 years. Fuck they were good times on and off the field. On the field, I was a sought-after player, consistently named player of the match, won two Brownlow Medals, and was one of the highest-paid players in the league at the time. Off the field, I was a wild one. I had a girlfriend at the beginning, and got her pregnant, but it didn’t take long to venture out. It started with partying, drinking, drugs, and out with the boys. Management struggled to control the media’s coverage. Then I started fucking around behind my girlfriend’s back. I would hit the brothels and fuck a couple of hookers, eventually just picking up any willing chick that made a move on me at the bars. My girlfriend at the time knew, and it wasn’t long before we split and she left, taking the young lad with her. My partying continued. I’d snort countless lines of coke and fuck an endless number of chicks. I didn’t care if it hit the media. I was fucking wild. The then house parties would begin. The footy lads would get together, hot birds were invited over, and the same thing would happen. Cocaine and pussy. But something changed. I tried a gangbang, and something flipped. Yeah, being in footy, we would see each other in the change rooms naked, and weird shit would happen like arse smacking and fag name-calling on several occasions. We would torture the player who performed the worst by pinning him down and pissing on him. But I never felt the tingly feeling I felt when I experienced my first gangbang. Watching these strong men with their rock-hard dicks jerking off while they watched their teammate fuck the blond bombshell flicked a switch inside me. Sharing the moment with hot men watching another man’s arse cheeks squeeze and release with every stroke of his cock driving deeper inside her cunt was driving me wild. There was one moment I vividly remember: I paid close attention to the beads of sweat forming on one mate’s back as the heat radiated from his body, the deep, burly moans with each thrust, and his muscles flexing with every movement. I had to refrain from touching my cock when I watched my mate pulsate and moan, unleashing his load. He would pull out, cock glistening from pussy juice and cum. Instantly, my mind went to thoughts of getting on my knees and sucking it clean. I didn’t know what was going on. Was it all the cocaine? Probably. I didn’t know. My cock was as hard as solid steel. I thought my knob was going to burst open. Every bit of my willpower was in overdrive. Three teammates fucked her. Her cunt was spewing cum. She would scoop a little bit out with her long pink silicone nail and lick it off with her tongue. What a slut. ‘Your turn, mate.’ Fuck! I was hypnotised entirely, I didn’t realise I was up next. All the fella’s who just fucked her had some huge cocks on them. Thick, veiny, long and rock solid. I have a big cock, but not to their grandeur. I knelt between her legs. Cunt spread open, cum seeping out. My cock throbbed at the sight. I tried my best to change my thoughts, but my willpower was running on fumes. I pressed my knob on her pussy. The wet, warm cum slathered it. No lube needed. I pushed in, and that was all it took, and I just unloaded in her with one stroke. My body pulsed, and it felt like every bit of my life force was sucked out of me through my cock and into her. ‘What?!’ ‘No way.’ All I could hear behind me was my teammates laughing at me as I prematurely ejaculated inside the whores used cunt. She looked at me with a sigh of disappointment, but I was too busy trying to regain my consciousness. I pulled out. My cock was soaked in cum. I couldn’t resist and scooped a bit off my shaft and placed it on my tongue. ‘Wow! Fuck!’ ‘He’s gonna do it.’ ‘Urgh!’ ‘He’s a spunk eater.’ That I did, all I could hear was the other rugby players laughing, calling me filthy names and saying how grouse that was. My mind, however, was sparking all kinds of feelings throughout my body; their name-calling had become distant sounds and noise. I was hooked. Life took a turn. I got too reckless, and the club management couldn’t deflect the press. Eventually, images of eating out pussy and my face coated in random men’s cum were released, and I lost my contract. My career dried up. I am now 52 and work for a logistics company dealing in global trading, and in my downtime, I coach a local high school football team. I met a hot bird who, despite her knowledge of my perverted background, still found an interest in me. She was young, 34 and a banging arse. I learned that she was into older men, particularly ex-footy players. Our sex life started like any. I’d get on top of her and bang her until I unloaded. I had little care-factor if she came or enjoyed it. It was all about me. I think she put up with it because of my fame and money. She was pretty happy to be used as a fuck rag so long as she could lounge around in my penthouse apartment overlooking the skyline of Melbourne. Then, those thoughts of a caked-up pussy flooded my mind, and soon I was eating her out after I blew my load in her. She knew my shady past and let it happen. This wasn’t enough. Over time, my deep urges overpowered. I missed the drugs. I missed the gangbangs and wild sex parties. I started on the Coke again. Drinking. She, too, began to join in. Then one day, after a coaching session with the school football team, I walked into my apartment, still sweaty and smelly from the session, wearing my sports gear, and heard noises coming from the lounge area. The evening light was shining through the wall-to-wall glass panels, and I couldn’t believe what I walked into. My then wife bent over the couch, facing the Melbourne skyline, with a random bloke banging her from behind. I froze. Shocked at first. Thoughts racing. How long had she been doing this? In my place. Who else has fucked her? How could I not have known? Is he wearing a condom? Is he going to cum in her? I felt my cock harden at the thoughts. I watched as he gripped her hips and thrusted in her hard and fast. Arse clenching at every pump. Moans erupting from both her and him. He then grabbed her blonde hair with both her hands and banged hard. Moans got louder. ‘Yeah, baby. I’m gonna cum.’ She moaned louder. I think I heard a ‘yes’ in there somewhere. His pumps grew shorter, more frantic. I watched her arse cheeks ripple with every pound from the guy. ‘I’m cumming! Arrghh. Yeahh. Fuckkk.’ I couldn’t resist and pulled out my cock and jerked off at the sight. It seemed like a long time while he shot his load, and he eventually pulled out. Indeed, he fuck her without protection. His long cock glistened through the evening light, reflecting off the moist pussy juice and cum. His knob was still throbbing from the aftermath of his ejaculation. And her pussy gaped with pearly white cum seeping out, dripping on the black leather couch. She turned her head. ‘Oh. Hi honey. Seems you are enjoying the show.’ She teased, as she wiggled her perky arse. The bloke then realised I was there, jerking furiously at what I had just walked into. ‘Holly shit! Your husband is here.’ He looked left and right, hoping his clothes were nearby, in response to the unexpected voyeurism. I then recognised him as the daytime receptionist from the apartment building’s lobby. I stared at his softening cock and the matted pubes trailing up his abdomen. I wanted to lick it, then shook the thought away. That’s gay. No way. Then looked at my wife’s pussy, still dripping with cum. I stepped out of my shorts and jocks and walked over and pushed my cock in her. It was barely a second, and I was cumming in gallons. I had not felt an intense orgasm like that since the times I was in gangbangs fucking used up cunts. I slowly pulled out. My cock too was glistening from all the cum and juices. I scooped what I could off my cock and licked it off my hand. My cock continued to throb. I couldn’t resist. I bent down to my knees and planted my face into her cunt. I ate and sucked and drove my tongue into her. She moaned. I was lost in my own mind. Drowning in the salty taste of my spunk mixed with the reception guy’s. I could feel it smearing my face and dripping down my chin. I jerked off furiously. No telling how long I was down there, but eventually I pulled away, gasping for breath. I turned to see the bloke just staring at me with a horrid expression. Seeing my face drenched in cum like a starving dog just freshly nourished was too much for him. He grabbed his scattered clothes and walked out, still naked. Have your input. What do you think happens next?

I heard City Square Motel is a good one. Has anyone used that motel?

Nice work. Great writing. Just enough detail to know the characters and environment (If you are an aussie, you would understand a BBQ party and have fond memories of your own), but pulled back enough so the reader can fill the gap with imagination. Loved it.

I do have a few more chapters to this story. Do you think I should post them?

Nicetighthole, how was your event? Give us juicy details.

My Daddy is taking me to the June event. We are not shy, and he will be placing me on my knees in full view for usage. The last time I went to visit him, in Sydney, he had me take 10 guys blindfolded (Private event). I never saw who they were. Daddy told me afterwards that they were blokes you wouldn't touch with a ten-foot pole. Low-grade sleazy blokes. I am a picky fella, but I'll accept and do whatever Daddy tells me to. So if He is expecting me to be a no-load-refused pig, then I'll do it. In June, we want to put my obedience on show at Bunker (Cumunion), have everyone enjoy themselves with me, and 'celebrate' just how much of a pig I can be.