whthole4u

Part 3: “YOU’RE TOO big - stop no pull it out!” I screamed. My BBC guide’s laughter was the last thing I heard before I passed out. He had warned me - repeatedly. He had told me I would cry, scream, and try to run. That’s why I was tied down like a hostage for this BBC with rough, coarse rope around my wrists and ankles, keeping me from crawling off the bed in in his house in the Shaw neighborhood and fleeing home. I still didn’t know his name - he was my BB guide, the bouncer from the sex party, and my pimp for the street and homeless dick he made me take and for slutting me out to the crackheads during the Ring of Fire. Now, the only ring burning was my ass - my ass, my rectum, and it felt like two feet of my lower intestines had all been scorched to death. His big hands closed tight around my throat cutting off my air as he brutally rammed his elephant penis deeper and split me wider, making me bleed like the crime victim I was. I gasped for air as my crackhead rapist told me again, “YOU WILL GET THAT PUSSY POUNDED FOR HOUR AFTER HOUR AND WHEN MY ROCK RUNS OUT, I WILL LEAVE YOU TIED UP, GO GET MORE, BRING SOME NICCAS BACK - LET THEM RAPE YOU BLOODY - THEN I WILL START ALL OVER. I TOLD YOU, I NEED A LIVE IN WHORE WHO KNOWS HOW TO TAKE CARE OF A MAN - A WHORE WHO I CAN SLAM THIS DICK IN.” I needed my bottle of cocaine, or more of the crack, and tried to ask for it, but his fingers entwined, cutting off all but the faintest sounds. He chuckled, “You awake now huh? I told you that you would be unconscious for the first round. You need that glass pipe? I know you do, but in a minute. Right now it’s all about me and how I’m breaking your pussy’s walls down. I’m gonna make sure you get fucked until you are so sore, loose, and gaping you’re unable to walk and that the only thing in the world that matters are the pipes – the glass one and this fucking big black one.” This must be what it feels like to get fisted I thought. I mean I had taken some big - no some HUGE - dicks since I followed this BBC into the dark streets of DC, but nothing like this. Even Nathan, the smelly bull of a man who had helped bring me back to his house, didn’t fully compare. He was big, but my rapist was far larger - dick and body! He was tall, stocky, rough and thuggish with a full beard and while he was smoking a cigarette when I first met him at the Speed Breeding sex party, crack was his drug of choice - and apparently was mine now too since he had taken my bottle of cocaine. “FEEL THAT? I’M SPLITTING THAT PUSSY OPEN DEEP, MAKING THAT HOLE LIKE THE FUCKING GRAND CANYON! MAKING IT GOOD AND BLOODY SO THAT PUSSY DON’T GET PREGNANT. WELL, IT WILL, BUT WITH...NO MATTER. MY MAN NATHAN’S BEEN OUT ON THE STREETS AND ROUND THE CORNER AT THE TRAP HOUSE. I GOT A ROOM FULL OF CRACK HIGH FUCKERS DOWN STAIRS WAITING TO USE THIS RAW PUSSY - WAITING TO FUCK YOU LIKE THE CRACK WHORE YOU ARE. YOU KNOW WHAT THE PRICE IS TO FUCK YOU? TO FUCK YOU RAW EVEN? A ROCK - A $5 ROCK OF CRACK. EVERY DIRTY, HOMELESS, DUDE IN THIS HALF THE CITY WILL BE SWINGING BY, STAINING MY SHEETS, AND MARKING THAT PUSSY WITH THEIR FILTH - ALL FOR A FUCKING MEASLY $5 ROCK. THAT’S THE KIND OF CRACK WHORE YOU ARE. BUT FIRST, THAT WHITE CRACK PUSSY ASS IS MINE - CHOKING YOU OUT BITCH BOY AS I RAPE THAT SHIT GOOD! CHOKING YOU OUT AS I SPLIT THAT PUSSY AND GIVE YOU MY ELEPHANT BABIES - OH FUCK YES! FEEL THEM BABY SWIMMERS? MY LIL’NICCA’S SWIM DEEP! BREEDING YOU RAW WHORE - FUCKING WHORE - BREEDING YOU!!” I came awake to a rattling sound, close to my left ear. I squinted, took a breath, opened my eyes and there was my BBC rapist, his elephant dick hanging south, floppy, wrinkled, dark, and ominous. He was bent over shaking a red FOLGERS coffee can back and forth. He smiled, “Hear them rocks? Look at this? All them horny fucks downstairs are willing to trade this high for a dip in that bloody pussy. Look? Tumbling rocks, round and round. Fuck that whore pussy was good and I cummed so deep in you I bet you swallowed some nutt the same time I shot it Right? Here - since you was so good, shift your head, hit this pipe, I want you lit as fuck like a God-damn lighthouse so that pussy eats those black dicks up! You are a worthless white crack whore made to serve you black superiors. You know it’s true. I felt that pussy worshipping my black dick, finally knowing it was being used the way it was supposed to.” My ass felt like hot coals had been stuffed inside me and it burned. I tried shifting, but the ropes tying me to the bed meant about the only thing I could do was shift my head from one side to the other. I welcomed the hot glass pipe, the acrid smoke of the crack as it scalded my lungs. “What’s that?” my rapist asked, “You gotta piss? Go ahead. A real trap house crack whore pisses where they lay. You think these guys care? Hell, I expect a few will add to it. Come on now, finish this rock off as you got guys waiting.” Once I exhaled my final hit, my BBC host quickly changed how my legs were tied and instead of having them closed together, he wound the rope around each ankle separately and tied them down to each corner of the bed so my body was staked out in a big X. My host hollered down to Nathan who I gathered was acting as door man. As foot steps sounded on the stairs, my BBC host pulled his dirty white underwear on, dragged a chair across the wood floor, sat down, placed the FOLGERS can by his foot, and lit a fresh rock. He smiled, “Time for the show. Oh don’t worry, Nathan’s got another can downstairs to collect the payment from anyone else who shows. Word will spread once these first couple of guys fuck you about the gang rape going down. Every smoka within a dozen blocks will be heading this way to get off. The rock is good, but as you know, makes you horny as shit and most of these guys have to suffer. Well now you are here to offer relief.” Voices sounded at the door, a couple men entered, someone asked if they could smoke, someone else asked if I was still alive, another man said he didn’t want to be identified later to the cops. Well my rapist assured them they could smoke all they wanted, yes I was alive and pussy ready, and well for the latter, he grabbed a pair of his well stained underwear out of the hamper and slid them over the top of my head so they covered my eyes and nose, leaving my mouth open for the pipe. They all laughed, he then set the glass pipe to my lips and told me to suck the crack smoke up. As I did he said to the assembled crowd, “See, just as promised. A crackhead whore ready for those dicks and that pussy is open and already on its period and I want to see some no mercy fucks and all that cum shoots inside the hole.” Crack smoke and the sounds of crackhead dick raping my ass filled the room as dirty, raw, anonymous dick took turns using me. The men were all shapes and sizes as were their dicks. I never saw a one of them, so don’t know if they were all BBC or what - didn’t matter - their dicks were raw and intent on breeding me. After the first couple of guys fucked and left, someone in the next group mentioned how the sheets were awful bloody. My host just laughed, blew out his pipe smoke, and told them, “Yeah, the whore tried to back out on promises made so I had to bust that cherry, teach him a lesson, make sure he learned to obey. I permanently damaged and rearranged that pussy for sure, just made it better for you niccas to use. So you going to keep asking questions or you here to fuck? There are no refunds. Jesus, maybe trying to arrange a Ring of Fire at home was a mistake. Do I need to drag this whore back up town?” I didn’t exactly remember it happening like that, but had little time to ponder a response before the next man mounted me. I tried keeping count but lost track after 2 - the crack made it so all my mind focused on was getting dicked. “How’s that hole feeling?” my BBC rapist asked, “Don’t start fading on me yet. You ain’t done. Here, hit the pipe, that’s it - hell yeah - you a fuckin rock star whore now working that pipe no handed. You know watching every nicca nutt drop just makes me horny and I can’t wait to tear that pussy up again. Ah, here comes an old smoke buddy. How’s it hangin man?” The guy who entered had a voice that was on the edge of being non-masculine and replied, “Good, good, all good. Folks down the way said you was whoring out some white ass. You know me; I’m always down for pounding a good ass especially when my woman won’t let me in her no more cause of all I’m carrying. Hell man - that pussy looks wet - how many niccas already been up in there? Really? You too? Shit! OK if I wipe it off. I like it dry and firm so I know the whore can feel me.” Someone’s hand began wiping my butt, my crack, my hole, my inner thighs with a towel. The latest guy then said, “Yo, you taken him to Union Station yet? You know those East side guys don’t come this way and bet they would enjoy some fresh twat. They’d mob that shit right.” All conversation ended then as the new man got on the bed, adjusted himself, and got to work. I grunted as he was pretty big, but it felt so fucking good. I tried lifting my hips up, but the ropes prevented it, so I just laid there and enjoyed the ride. Once he had finished, my BBC host followed the guy down the stairs. I could hear voices faintly coming from below and my hole twitched. I needed dick - and some more crack. I heard footsteps on the stairs, at least two men, someone sat in the chair - my rapist. “Well whore,” he said with a sigh like he had just gotten off a long day’s worth of work, “The cathouse is closed for the moment. Fuck that was a good run you fucking slut. Let the whore up.” I could tell it was Nathan untying the ropes on my wrists from his smell. Just like the crack, it was intoxicating and I could taste the foulness in the air. All the ropes loosened, I couldn’t move, my pimp knew what to do as he and Nathan began rubbing my limbs, “No worries. No worries at all. Just takes a minute to get all the blood flowing again, then you hit the pipe and you’ll be ready.” I doubted that. Seriously. I had just been gang raped - again - and I hurt. There was no fucking way! OK - spoiler - famous last words. I rolled over and with Nathan’s help sat up on the edge of the bed. I tore the dirty underwear off my face and my BBC host who was now sitting in the chair laughed and hit his pipe. The smoke swirled, I leaned forward and sniffed the rank air - I needed a hit. He set the pipe down, got down on one knee and with a screwdriver pried up one of the floor boards. He then eased up another, set them to the side, and smiled as he shook the Folgers can at me that had part of the stash of crack rock in it. The payment for my ass from the druggies. “No worries,” he said, “Nathan’s got the other can around, plenty to keep us twisted and going. This is just a little something for later for all my trouble.” His trouble? I did all the fucking work! I winced as I turned and saw the bloody, wet stained sheets, then the red, scrapes around my wrists and ankles. My host held out the pipe, swirled the flame as I sucked in the smoke, let me hit a few times more and noted, “This will ease any discomfort. I’ll get some ointment for those rope burns. In between sessions they’ll scab, peel, the skin will thicken up and toughen.” What did he mean in between sessions? I asked that question when he came back and kneeled on the floor in front of me. I got a good cuff to the head and he snarled, “You better learn now whore. You’ve become a gang rape pussy and every day I plan to tie you up on the bed, maybe at the park, or someplace else and let one nasty nicca after another fuck that ass to keep it good and open for me. I know you’d obey and probably do it anyways for these pipes I got, but I like that shit too - so it ain’t about you.” After some ointment was applied and gauze was wrapped around the rope marks, my host sat back in the chair and fed me the pipe again. Nathan was naked now, his dirty fingers jacking his long, hard dick. He paused long enough to hit the pipe, passed it back to my host who put in a fresh rock and the three of us quickly smoked it down. A new rock was being placed in the pipe when I stood up, eased in front of Nathan, he moved his hand, I reached back, grabbed his dick, and tried sitting on it. My hole was a little dry. Nathan reached his right hand between us and used his long fingernails to scratch my hole to get it wet. I pushed back; his dick filled my ring and kept going, and I pushed harder, “RAPE MY HOLE! PLEASE FUCK ME! FUCK IT HARD - NOW - NOW! GIVE ME THAT BULL DICK!” I begged. Nathan laughed, held me in a bear hug and let me ride his BBC. He was enjoying it, “DIGGING YOUR DITCH OUT BITCH! FILLING THAT PUSSY UP - COME ON - RIDE THAT SHIT - RIDE IT IF YOU WANT THIS NUTT IN THAT WHORE ASS!” Our host had set the pipe down and was watching the show. His elephant dick was out and hanging down like a big trunk with a cold as snot dripped from the end. I met his eyes and smiled with a ‘let’s see what you got’ smirk so he would know I was up for any challenges. I could feel Nathan trying to pick up speed underneath me and his balls were riding high. Before he could release his bull seed I took advantage of his distraction, grabbed his hands, pried them apart, stood up and leaned forward pulling myself of his dick that was right at the edge of blowing his load. “WHERE THE FUCK YOU GOING?” he exclaimed. I turned, grabbed my BBC host’s dick and self-raped my hole by pushing it into me with no lube except the precum he was drooling and the wetness Nathan had created. The pain was fierce and I squatted back as deep as it would go on the initial thrust, which was not that far and before he could react I let go of his dick, turned, and pushed back onto Nathan’s who laughed. I bounced a few times and jumped back on our host. Nathan snarled, “RAPE THAT WHORE PUSSY!” My host stood up, pushing his dick deeper into my ass as he stepped forward, leaning me into Nathan. I reached down and grabbed Nathan’s big dick and held onto it as he kissed me, while my host began raping my hole. I was moaning and trying to scream from the pain of being split open again, but my rapist’s hands found my throat and squeezed tighter, tighter, and as he started slam fucking me with his elephant dick he bellowed, “FUCKING CRACK WHORE! TAKING MY BIG DICK - ALL THAT DIRTY NICCA CUM IN THERE - NOW YOU’RE GONNA GET IT GOOD. LIGHTS OUT WHORE! FUCKING LIGHTS OUT BITCH CUNT! YEAH TOO MUCH DICK AIN’T IT - I’LL BREAK THAT FUCKING WIND PIPE TO GET MY NUTT IF I HAVE TOO - LIGHTS…” Light flooded my eyes as I moaned. My BBC rapist was on my back now. He had me laid out on the bed, face down, as he held my hips and pounded my hole. Suddenly his body froze, he grunted, and I could feel his long dick ejaculating deep inside me. His black shaft twitched, pulsed, and skittered as it unloaded. He let out a big sigh, slid his body back, leaving a trail of elephant dick sperm as my open hole gaped in abandonment. “STAY THERE. NATHAN HERE’S GOING TO GET SLOPPY SECONDS. WHEN HE’S DONE, COME DOWN STAIRS. I’M HUNGRY AND YOU NEED TO FIX US SOMETHING.” Nathan wasted no time mounting me and took his time enjoying my wide open ass and telling me how his dirty dick was going to push more cum inside me. Once his carnal lust was sated, Nathan climbed off me, gave my ass a good slap, and left me on the bed. I reached back, touched my busted hole, felt the slithering man seed spilling out, coated my finger and licked it clean. Pure masculine essence! My host was right; it hurt to walk. Every step was like someone flicking a lighter inside my ass and guts. I eased down the stairs to find the two BBC sitting in the living room, crack pipes in hand, smiling at my tender-footed approach. I went over to my host to ask for a hit on the pipe and just got a smile and a negative nod along with jerk of his head towards the kitchen. A few minutes later I was back, handed off the plates with their sandwiches, and eased down onto the floor by my host’s feet. He tapped my shoulder, held the pipe so I could hit it, and I relaxed back against his legs. A few more hits and I was eyeing his elephant dick and looking at Nathan, wondering which one I could entice to stick it back in me. There was a knock - faint at first then firmer. “Get the door,” my host ordered. I got up, walked into the hall and before I opened the door paused, and thought maybe I should find some clothes first. The knock was louder now and a voice hollered from the living room, “GET THE FUCKING DOOR!” I eased the door open a crack, then wide enough to let the guy in. He nervously looked around, saw I was totally nude, his eyes got big then he smiled. He was white, 40s maybe and looked like a 1970s porn star or the Marlboro Man, with long greasy black hair combed straight back and a big thick mustache that hung down the sides of his mouth. His cheeks were sunk in, his skin pock marked, and he had dark circles under his eyes that made him look part Raccoon. My host stepped out wearing his dirty white underwear and asked, “Yeah?” The white guy hemmed, hawed, and his hand shook as he held out a big chunk of crack. A smile and a quick set of orders followed, “Just take it here, in the hall. And from now on, anyone else who comes knocking don’t bother me if all they want is pussy. You take their rock, then take their nutt. Fuck them right here in the hall like a real whore.” I was left in the hall with the white guy who quickly fumbled his dick out. What a let down, after having those two giant BBC up in me. But the guy got hard quick so I leaned forward, steadied myself against the wall, and let him stick his crusty dick in and give me a quick nutt. Through the evening I greeted the few other stragglers who showed up at the door like the crack whore I was. They plugged me right there in the front hall with raw pipe for a chunk of rock, which I then offered to my BBC host and Nathan. No matter what I did though, they both held off breeding me again and it was driving me crazy. I think they liked that though, seeing me desperate for dick. My host got up, locked the front door and turned off the light. He went upstairs, came down, and handed Nathan a pillow and blanket. I figured I was going to get to go home then, but when I said I should get my clothes and get going he laughed, and said, “Two things wrong with that statement. First, you’re a whore and that pussy needs the pipes and I got both right here. Second, Nathan there looks like he’s about ready for another go at it so spread that cunt open and let him fuck it. When it’s nice and full, then bring your white ass upstairs because I plan to rape the fuck out of you good and give you something to really put to sleep. Tomorrow’s another day in whoreville and I got a couple ideas. I know a couple guys hung about my size who’ve I’ve done some wild tag rape shit with. I also think my old smoke buddy had it right. I need to run you over to Union Station and let those niccas have a turn on that ass. Always good to have them owe me a favor.” I turned to go please Nathan who was standing by the couch, naked, stroking his big hard dick. My host stopped me, grabbing me from the back and jamming his dick head into my ass plugging my hole, “YOU’VE BEEN A GOOD CRACK WHORE TODAY PUSSY. I WANT THAT HOLE WET SO I CAN RAPE YOU GOOD. YOU PLAY WITH FIRE LITTLE BOY, YOU GET BURNED AND TODAY WAS JUST A LITTLE BLAZE - TOMORROW I’M GONNA DROP YOU INTO A FUCKING BONFIRE.” Stay Tuned for Part 4 - The Bonfire (*From the author: If you like the story let me know - post a reply or give a reputation. Thanks to everyone who takes the time to read these stories and for the continued support!)

Hi – this main story – Speed Breeding – ended on August 9 with the final post titled: EPILOGUE – A RING OF FIRE. However, the story continues as an offshoot in RING OF FIRE – posted at https://breeding.zone/topic/42827-ring-of-fire/ - two chapters so far. Thanks -

Part 2: Nathan grunted and his cum burned my inner flesh like a wildfire. I didn’t want him to stop, but he did, and as he gently eased out of my now stretched and floppy hole, he slapped my ass twice and asked, “Ya’ll round for a bit? Yeah? Cool man. I’ll swing back through and hit it again in a few. Need to run up top and re-up my stash.” My BBC guide had just urged Nathan to rape my ass with his raw, crack head dick. That was the theme of this freak down - what he called a Ring of Fire - all the nasty BBC in the park that needed to breed and bust some raw hole were welcome as they stood around me, smoking their drugs, as I got used like a whore. I could barely stand and after a fresh rock and a few lungs full of smoke, I dropped to the filthy floor of the alcove where someone else shoved a ready and willing dick into my wide-open ass. I just wanted to go to sleep, to enjoy the warm tingling of the crack, and not be bothered any more. That wasn’t happening. More dick was shoved in my tore up hole and more cum was injected inside me. I had to smile as I thought again about how I had been in DC less than a week and had already taken more stranger dick than many people get in a lifetime and how it felt so fucking freeing to just not give a fuck, let go, and fucking enjoy myself and let others enjoy me as they wanted. Long nails dug into my forearm as I was helped up. The bouncer set the pipe to my lips, “You need to stay fucked up,” he said as I automatically inhaled. I realized then the guy holding me up was Nathan. I started to turn and look to see who else was still there, but Nathan held me steady, the pipe filled my lungs and cleared my head while fucking my body up. Nathan then let go of my arm with a silent ‘please don’t fall down look’ on his face as he undid the few buttons still closed on his shirt, pulled it off, and gently leaned into me as he tied it around my waist. I looked down and realized someone had slid my t-shirt over my head, my shorts back on me - damn I didn’t remember that at all. I then looked at Nathan - bull Master fucker - and mouthed a silent ‘thank you’. I meant to say it, but my throat hurt, my windpipe constricted, and no sound came out. I winced and reached down and rubbed my thighs and knees - fuck they were cut up and jacked. I staggered and wobbled sideways, but Nathan was there and caught me. The BBC bouncer - my pimp and guide - was arguing with a couple guys off to the side as Nathan led me to the front of the alcove. It was a dark and cloudy day and now had started to rain - light but steady. I winced at the change in light. I leaned against Nathan as we followed the bouncer out of the park. I laughed thinking what a sight we must be. Me, all scraped up, my legs covered in anonymous cum, with this half-naked bull of a man holding me up as I staggered down the street after my BBC crack pimp. HA! We walked south then east into the Shaw neighborhood. Dupont was the gay mecca. East of 15th was Logan, which was iffy, but was slowly getting pockets of redevelopment and people moving into the area to redo the old houses. Shaw - well Shaw was a total no go. Bad shit went down in Shaw, so while part of my mind - a super tiny part - was screaming, ’NO DON’T FOLLOW - DON’T GO’ my cracked out high part and my super hungry asshole had to have more and I didn’t give a flying fuck. Now, one might think I would have realized earlier in the week I was a whore and slut - maybe getting fucked raw by the troll at the bar my first day in DC, or letting his friends use me, or the gang bang with the guys watching the game (which after the park was a pretty light weight fuck down), or letting the homeless guy fuck me in the alley, or even the Speed Breeding. Yet it was not until that moment as those two big men were escorting me into Shaw did I really say to myself, ‘Yeah, I’m a slut and a whore for dick - and cum!’ And that was OK - it was fucking FANTASTIC! A run down block of old, wood townhouses and vacant lots was our destination and my BBC pimp led us about ¾ of the way down the street where on the right, between two vacant lots, stood a pair of old, row houses. The one on the left was painted in a vibrant, eye burning, hue of blue. Even the boards that covered the windows and gaps under the partially fallen in porch were all the same color. The house on the right was painted white, with forest green trim. The small yard was enclosed behind a gray, wire metal fence, the lawn was cut, the house looked well maintained especially compared to others on the block. The bouncer walked up the brick steps, unlocked the outer, metal meshed door, unlocked the inner door, and stepped inside, closely followed by Nathan and I. The air inside was humid and stuffy, or maybe it was just all the crack coursing through me that made it feel that way. Speaking of, I needed the pipe, or my cocaine, something, and both BBC laughed when I started begging. Fuckers! I gasped as my BBC host gripped my throat, pulled me close, and blew his crack hit directly into my mouth. I latched on as tight as I could and he fed me again, then let me hit the pipe directly. I swooned, he laughed and asked, “So you think you ready to take care of my needs now?” I just nodded, and he shook his head as he gripped his dick. “THIS THAT ELEPHANT DICK - NO HORSE DICK HERE, LIKE I TOLD YOU, ONCE I DECIDE TO FUCK THAT PUSSY YOU WILL CRY, SCREAM, TRY TO RUN AND I WON’T GIVE A FUCKING SHIT CAUSE LIKE I SAID, THAT PUSSY ASS IS MINE NOW.” Before I could respond Nathan had reached around from my back, untied his shirt, yanked my shorts down, and with my pimp still gripping my throat, Nathan began forcing his dry dick back inside my ass. “Get him on the floor so I can fill that gut with my piss,” our host said. Once he had drained his tank, I was ordered back up, Nathan slithered out, then I was told to get my whore ass into the kitchen and make them a sandwich and some drinks. It took me a minute - one because I was high as fuck and two because I didn’t know where he kept shit - but as I was plating their food my pimp strolled in wearing nothing but a pair of badly stained, white underwear and holding the pipe with a big, fresh rock in the bowl. “I had to make sure you were obeying like a good servant and whore,” he said. “Get the fuck on your knees and slobber on this dick - through the fabric - don’t fucking touch it! The first time you will feel the skin is when it splits that whore pussy open!” Back in the living room the two BBC sat in easy chairs, chatting, eating, drinking, and every now and then, leaning forward to feed me some more crack. I was a naked, submissive, whore whose only purpose was to entertain and please them. While our host didn’t want me touching his dick, Nathan had no such compunction and was happy to have me slurp on his thick dick head and nurse out some precum. I even tilted his dick back and suckled on his Big Foot styled nut sac and edged down to that soft spot just underneath that was caked in man musk and rank. I could feel the anticipation build as I cleared the plates and glasses, as the two BBC got fidgety and their dicks grew and slobbered. I hit the crack pipe with such desperate need! Finally, our host stood up, pointed to the stairs through the archway to the hall and said, “Get your fucking whore ass up them steps. If you need to piss or something, do it now. Bathroom’s at the end of the hall. Then get on your knees on the floor beside the bed. You got 5 minutes - then shit gets real.” I scampered up those steps liked Sarah Palin himself was chasing me. The bathroom, like the rest of the place, was clean and well organized and tended. I sat on the toilet and prayed that I was still clean and ready to be fucked. I mean, I had not eaten in fuck - I couldn’t remember how long and even my piss was sparse, dark, and almost crusty. I quickly dabbed off. The floorboards creaked as I hustled into the bedroom and positioned myself on the floor at the end of the bed that was almost centered in the middle of the room and waited. My heart raced, I licked my lips, my hole spasmed. Heavy footsteps ascended the stairs. I didn’t dare to look and kept my face down and eyes glued on the wood boards. The bed creaked, shifted, a large, hot naked body settled on the corner of the bed. I could tell from the dirty fingernails on the hand that leaned down to grab my left wrist that it was Nathan. He guided me up, turned me around, and had me back up on his black horse dick. My hole tensed and tried to close, but Nathan drove through and as he rammed himself back into my ass he said, “Oh yeah, going to slather them bootie cakes.” Nathan took his time exploring every crack and crevice of my lower intestines and then he picked up his pace and added a few new ones of his own before he barebacked another load up my ass. “Jesus,” our host said from the doorway, “I thought you were planning to camp out in that ass, not rape the shitter. You good man? Ready to help me out?” Nathan just gave a loud HMMMM as he pushed his still hard dick deeper into my hole and grabbed both of my arms tight, pinning me solidly against his body. My BBC guide walked over, set a handful of supplies down on the night stand, prepped the pipe, and with Nathan’s dick still buried inside me held the pipe to my lips and made me hit the rock. The pipe had barely left my lips before I started trying to bounce up and down on Nathan’s black rod. “RIDE THAT DICK YOU FUCKING WHORE,” my BBC pimp said, “SHOW ME HOW HUNGRY THAT PUSSY IS, HOW OPEN THAT PUSSY IS, THAT YOU READY FOR SOME OF THIS THICK LOG SPLITTING YOU DEEP!” I opened my eyes to see him standing a few feet away, his hand inside his dirty, white briefs, sliding back and forth along his hardness that was angled now up and to the left and looked like it wrapped around his hip. Oh God I had to have that! I bounced up and down harder and he smiled, stopped stroking, relit the pipe, “COME ON NOW. SHOW ME WHAT A GOOD DOPED OUT WHORE YOU ARE. I THINK THAT’S SOME GOOD PUSSY YOU GOT THERE AND I’LL SOON SEE. FUCKING HORNED ME UP WATCHING ALL THOSE NICCAS GANG RAPE IT, BREED IT, FUCKING YOU MAKE YOU PREGNANT WITH THEIR DIRTY, HOMELESS, CRACKED OUT DICKS! READY FOR THAT PUSSY TO BLEED FOR ME? OPEN IT UP FOR MY BLACK SEED?” Another few hits of the pipe and Nathan stood us up, turned us around, and with his dick still in my ass fuck/crawled us up on the bed so I was lying flat with his big bull body on my back, holding me down. Once settled, he started pumping my ass again, forcing my hole open and fuck that felt so good. I then tried to look to my left as I felt a course rubbing on my skin. Nathan’s bull body blocked everything out, but my pimp’s voice - though muffled - was clear in meaning, “I’m tying you down. I told you fucking bitches and whores always try to run. They all think they can handle it, think their pussies can take this big ol-dick. But once I rip that ring open they tap out, crying and whining and screaming. You feeling that fire? That burning in your ass? Your fucking pussy just took a whole lotta niccas up in there so you better hope your shit ain’t too tight. Fuck I ain’t stopping once I get started. I already let your new landlord and employer know you won’t be around for a few days. Once I break a pussy’s walls down, I fuck until you are so sore, loose, and gaping you’re unable to walk and that the only thing in the world that matters are the pipes – the glass one and this fucking big black one.” I tried pulling my hands closer to my body, suddenly afraid, but the coarse rope just cut into my skin. My pimp was behind me now as ropes were secured around my ankles, my legs pressed together and tied down. His voice was more distant, but still clear as Nathan’s dick stiffened in my ass as our host said, “YOU WILL GET THAT PUSSY POUNDED FOR HOUR AFTER HOUR AND WHEN MY ROCK RUNS OUT, I WILL LEAVE YOU TIED UP, GO GET MORE, BRING SOME NICCAS BACK - LET THEM RAPE YOU BLOODY - THEN I WILL START ALL OVER. I TOLD YOU, I NEED A LIVE IN WHORE WHO KNOWS HOW TO TAKE CARE OF A MAN - A WHORE WHO I CAN SLAM THIS DICK IN. LIKE I ALSO TOLD YOU - AND YOU SHOULD HAVE FUCKING LISTENED BUT TOO LATE NOW YOU FUCKING WHORE, YOU WILL CRY, SCREAM, TRY TO RUN AND I WON’T GIVE A FUCKING SHIT. THAT PUSSY ASS IS MINE NOW.” The ropes shifted, cutting into my flesh. Nathan yanked his hard dick out and rolled off my back and I heard footsteps stomping down the stairs. The bed creaked, shifted, and a sweaty body covered mine. Two large hands reached down and as my BBC pimp blew his hot breath on my neck his hands separated my cheeks exposing my hole. I held my breath as a gigantic piece of man flesh was angled into my crack, set against my asshole, and then he forcefully pushed. “YOU’RE TOO big - stop no pull it out!” I screamed. My BBC guide’s laughter was the last thing I heard before I passed out. (*From the author: If you like the story let me know - post a reply or give a reputation. Thanks to everyone who takes the time to read these stories and for the continued support!)

Ring of Fire: The flick of the lighter, the warm glass pipe between my lips, the smile on my BBC guide’s face as I inhaled the toxic smoke and held it deep in my lungs like he ordered was the first flame of the inferno to come - the Ring of Fire. My BBC guide - who still had not given me his name, so he remained an anonymous master of sexual predation and exploration - was tall, stocky, with a full beard and a GIGANTIC steel pipe snaking down the right leg of his jeans that even soft was fucking impressive. He had promised earlier in the night when I was getting ready to be a whore at the sex party in the VIP Speed Breeding area, “I ONLY FUCK WHEN I KNOW IT’S ALL GOING IN - EVERY INCH - AND IF THAT MEANS MAKING THAT SHIT BLEED AND TEARING YOU OPEN TO GET IT, I WILL.” (What follows is the continuation of the Epilogue from the story SPEED BREEDING - https://breeding.zone/topic/42050-speed-breeding/) I was on my hands and knees at Malcolm X Park waiting for the crack pipe he was hitting. Within the short time he had been in charge of me, I had already licked his boots in an alley, sucked off some guy on the sidewalk, been fucked raw by a 10-inch homeless dude in Logan Circle Park, and now was getting ready for the Ring of Fire. He had brought me to this park for a reason and like Logan Circle; it was run down, and a place where the dirtiest deeds were done. The call had gone out that a Ring of Fire was going down and just before we entered this dark space, he had said, “A RING OF FIRE IS A BBC GANG RAPE SPECIAL. SOON THIS ALCOVE WILL BE BRIMMING WITH BROTHAS ALL LOOKING TO LIGHT THEIR PIPES UP AND STAND IN A CIRCLE - CREATING A RING OF FIRE AROUND THAT WHITE PUSSY ASS AS ONE AFTER ANOTHER DICK IT DOWN, NUTT UP, AND TAG OFF.” Men were shuffling behind and to the sides of me - unsure, waiting, watching. I followed the dancing flame in the BBC’s hand and leaned on his muscular thighs, my neck craned forward like a baby chick eager for its dinner. The BBC bouncer burned a good portion of the rock he was smoking, exhaled, coughed, then turned the pipe in his hand towards me and said, “Close your lips around the glass. It will be warm, but won’t burn you. You watched me so you know the basics. I’ll swirl the flame under the rock in the bowl and when the smoke starts up you inhale deep with your lungs and suck in as much as you can and hold it. You’ll want to cough - DONT. Not at first. Hold it. It’ll feel scratchy, rough, then it like - I don’t know - slides away. Once you feel that smooth rush, exhale as the smoke and rock have done their work.” My bouncer/guide to DC’s underworld was sitting on the stone bench in the dark alcove. I was naked and on my hands and knees as ordered. While he prepped more rock on his pipe for me to hit, I kept my head down with my tongue trying to bathe his Timberland boots. The one hit I had done on the pipe already had made my tongue feel numb, given me a nasty taste, and the smell in my nostrils was a mix of burnt plastic, something sickly sweet, with a tinge of dried piss, puke, and whatever else was caking the floor of the alcove where we were. My head was swirling and my body felt all tingly, not like the high I had from snorting the cocaine. A rough hand ran over the rump of my ass, a body scooted in, I started to turn my head to look - my eyes dizzy from the dancing flames now closing in. SLAP – “KEEP YOUR FUCKING EYES ON ME,” the BBC bouncer said, “ALL THAT MATTERS IS YOU WATCHING THIS DICK GROW IN MY PANTS, THAT YOU FOCUS ON THE PIPE AS I HOLD IT OUT FOR YOU, AND THAT YOU KEEP CLEANING MY BOOTS AS THESE NICCAS RAPE FUCK THAT ASS.” The to man behind me he said, “GO ON MAN, FUCK IT. AIN’T NOTHING TO WAIT FOR. PUNCH THAT PUSSY OPEN AND LOAD IT UP - THIS WHORE’S TRYING TO BE TURNED OUT!” I grunted at the initial thrust, then moaned in pleasure as the anonymous man started stroking my hole, pushing the homeless guy’s cum from earlier back in. Mumbling words of encouragement were spatted out in between the flashes of flame heating up the various pipes. The pipe was lowered down to my mouth again and I flinched as the heat seemed awful close. My BBG guide laughed, had me suck the pipe twice more hard, then kicked me backwards a little with his boots and watched as the next dick slammed my eager ass. These guys might be drugged out fuckers, but they were like the FBI Hostage Rescue Team who’s motto is speed, surprise, and violence of action. After the first two dicks knocked me up I bent down and forward, my head resting on the BBC’s Timberlands as I raised my ass up in the air. The next dick slammed my hole deep and I grunted in pain that quickly fled, replaced by the hot tingling of the crack and joy of a dick pounding my ass ring. Voices raised, entwined, swirled through the alcove like a distorted symphony. All that mattered was the crack pipe, the BBC guiding me, his boots, and my hole being used. I might have complained about the pain on my knees, or maybe the guys fucking me said something, I don’t remember. The bouncer got me focused and said, “STAND UP - KEEP YOUR EYES ON ME YOU FUCKING WHORE. YOU’VE DONE GOOD SO FAR AND HAVE TAKEN SOME REAL NASTY NICCA DICK. LOTS MORE TO GO, BUT I WANT TO SEE THEM REALLY DIG IN THEM GUTS. HERE - HIT THE PIPE AGAIN AND KEEP DOING IT...MORE...ONCE MORE...OK NOW STAY STANDING AND BEND OVER. I WANT YOU TO PUT THAT FUCKING FACE IN MY LAP AND START SLATHERING MY DICK THROUGH MY PANTS. MY SHIT’S HARD AS HELL ALREADY WATCHING THIS SHOW, SO I NEED A BETTER VIEW OF THESE NICCAS COATING THAT PUSSY AS THEY GANG RAPE YOU AND MAKE YOU ANOTHER CRIME STATISTIC FROM THE PARK.” The next guy slammed in, reached around, found my nipples and started twisting them as hard as he could. My BBC guide laughed, “Yeah, rape that hole man - rape it good for me!” There was a thick layer of smoke hanging in the air that I could see now as the flames and shadows danced against the alcove wall. I was entranced as I caught flashes of the guy’s shadow who was fucking me pressed against mine and when he came, the shadows stuttered and paused as his body twitched and his balls mixed his DNA in with all the other. He yanked his dick out, hot cum streamed down the back of my legs and I didn’t care. The smell of multiple nutts coming out of my ass was like unleashing a 50-gallon drum of sex pheromones on the waiting crowd. I bent over the bouncer’s lap and started slathering the dark firmness of his black pipe through the fabric of his pants as another dick pushed in me with ease and used me for their breeding pleasure. I shifted my head back and forth like I was lathering a cob of corn on a butter stick and then paused and wondered, what if his dick wasn’t really as big as it seemed? What if it was just a sock or something stuffed down there? The hidden secret swelled, he cuffed my head and snarled, “GET BACK TO WORK WHORE!” I’m used to guys being verbal - hell I’m verbal too - but about the only sounds in the alcove were the flicks of lighters or matches, the heavy huffs on crack pipes and stems, the smack of BBC flesh against my white cheeks, and the grunts as one after another anonymous man flooded my ass with cum. The majority of guys were average in size, or maybe I was just too high to realize the big ones were fucking me. My hole did sort of feel like I was turning inside out as those dicks beat it good. I felt suddenly really hot and dizzy and someone set a bottle of water in my hand that I thirstily drank. Much better. The next guy that drew my attention away from the BBC’s lap did not do so because of what I felt, but his smell. I mean, this guy’s musk cut through the odor created my multiple loads up my ass, a bunch of guys - some homeless, some not - and a whole shit load of crack being smoked in a fairly enclosed space, yet I could smell him. It wasn’t a bad thing though, as his smell was wild, feral, beastly. I paused, my nostrils flared, I would have turned my head to follow the trail of ripe rankness if the BBC had not slammed my head back down into his lap. My ass hole puckered out; my legs shook. Need and fear coursed through my body. The newcomer walked to the side left side of my BBC pimp daddy, and while someone else started dicking me, I could not help but let my eyes follow this new man. My head was still pressed firmly down, but my eyes took him all in. Like my BBC guide he was tall - very tall. His shirt was partially unbuttoned exposing a big furry belly poking through, splitting the lower part of the shirt. His hair was long and matted in dreads and as he held out a large hand with a couple baggies on it for my host, I saw his nails were long, sharp, with dirt caked around the edges. Another load was dropped in my hole, the new guy stepped out of sight, and I yelped as he slid a few fingers inside my cummy rectum and began clawing at my flesh getting ready to leave his mark. “GET YOUR HEAD UP. HIT THIS PIPE - COME ON NOW - YOU GOT SOME PRIME-A BULL DICK ABOUT TO RAPE THAT ASS AND I CAN’T WAIT TO SEE THAT SHIT.” Then to whatever other guys were still around, which appeared to be several from the flickers of light and sounds he said, “WATCH AND LEARN NICCAS - WATCH AND LEARN.” I looked up, my lips puckered out eager for the pipe as the bouncer watched the new guy and paused feeding me the drugs. I then cried out in absolute pain as something large and wild burst through my outer ass ring. There was like a whoosh as all the air in the alcove seemed to vanish and everyone took a step closer, bathing me in flickering flames to watch this new man fuck me. My BBC guide laughed, set his pipe to my lips, and as he moved the flame in tight little circles and I eagerly inhaled the acrid smoke he said, “That’s Nathan. Like the hot dog. Nicca gives me a run for my money for sure. Glad he’s around today. He’ll fuck that ass out good, get it nice and open for me, and well if that dick don’t send you to the hospital, there’s hope for you and I yet.” A thick wiry bush of unscaped man hair scratched at my flesh as Nathan dogged my hole. He was by far the biggest dick that had fucked me yet and I had to have more. I arched my back, adjusted my footing as best I could; I grabbed my BBC guide’s thighs with my hands to brace myself and dropped my head so his hidden shaft got the full sloppy-toppy-drool effect. Nathan was yanking me back onto his dick with full force, driving himself deeper through my tunnels and opening me up for whatever gifts he had brought to this little party. The BBC beneath my mouth expanded and lengthened as for the first time my pimp egged someone on, “RAPE THAT ASS MAN - GET THAT SHIT OPEN FOR ME. THAT PUSSY BLEEDING YET FOR YOU? HELL YEAH NICCA BANG THAT HOLE! THAT’S WHAT A CRACK WHORE GETS - WHAT A CRACK WHORE NEEDS - WHAT A CRACK WHORE WANTS! THAT ASS IS HUNGRY FOR THAT DICK MAN SO SLAM IT IN THERE. DROP THAT NUTT MAN - DROP IT!” Nathan grunted and his cum burned my inner flesh like a wildfire. I didn’t want him to stop, but he did, and as he gently eased out of my now stretched and floppy hole, he slapped my ass twice and asked, “Ya’ll round for a bit? Yeah? Cool man. I’ll swing back through and hit it again in a few. Need to run up top and re-up.” Stay Tuned for Part 2 (*From the author: If you like the story let me know - post a reply or give a reputation. Thanks to everyone who takes the time to read these stories and for the continued support!)

Epilogue - A Ring of Fire: A black hand snatched the wad of cash - my tips from the Speed Breeding and anonymous dick/cum I had taken - then he took the keys to my apartment Garrett was holding, and as Garrett stepped back, smiling like the twisted fucker he was, the black bouncer/guard I had teased earlier filled the doorway and said, “HIS PARTY IS OVER. MINE IS JUST BEGINNING. YOU READY FOR SOME BBC SLOW, DEEP, ROUGH BREEDING? NONE OF THIS SPEEDY SHIT - I PLAN TO TAKE MY TIME OPENING THAT ASS PUSSY UP AND FILLING YOU WITH NICCA NUTT” Before I replied I gave him and up/down once over look and my ass shivered in anticipation. He was tall, stocky, with a full beard and a GIGANTIC steel pipe snaking down the right leg of his jeans that even soft was fucking impressive. Garrett patted me on the shoulder and laughed, “I’ll see you at home - good job tonight.” My black escort called out behind him, “Don’t wait up.” I smiled at his boldness, bent over to pick up my shorts, shirt, and full bottle of cocaine Garrett had left for me and yelped as two, calloused fingers started violating my hole as his other hand pressed down on my back. “How many loads you take in that ass tonight,” he asked? I ignored the question as I snorted some powder, wiped my nose, and started to push back, riding those digits. He chuckled, “Fucking bitch - you’re in heat huh? Like I told you, YOU TEASING THE WRONG MAN.” He growled, “I ONLY FUCK WHEN I KNOW IT’S ALL GOING IN - EVERY INCH - and IF THAT MEANS MAKING THAT SHIT BLEED AND TEARING YOU OPEN TO GET IT, I WILL. I AIN’T PLAYIN. I TAKE WHAT’S MINE. Now that pussy ass is mine. You ain’t ready yet and frankly never will be until I get done fucking is the first time.” All that talk just made me want it and want it now and I started moaning and riding his fingers harder even as he tried adding a third and turning his hand from vertical to horizontal to cut me up and stretch me out. The sharp pain was joyous and I pushed back on it. He started slicing and dicing my wet hole as he continued, “I’M TELLING YOU NOW. YOU AIN’T READY, BUT I’LL GET YOU CLOSER AND AFTER YOU’VE SHOWN ME YOU CAN BE A REAL WHORE AND SLUT FOR GOOD BLACK DICK - NOT THESE PANTY ASS WHITE DING A LINGS THAT SNUCK THROUGH HERE TONIGHT - BUT REAL NICCA DICK - WHEN I THINK THAT PUSSY IS SET, YOU WILL CRY, SCREAM, TRY TO RUN AND I WON’T GIVE A FUCKING SHIT CAUSE LIKE I SAID, THAT PUSSY ASS IS MINE NOW. SO QUIT DICKIN AROUND, GATHER YOUR SHIT AND COME ON.” Damn it! What do you call it when a bottom is left hanging like that? Tops get blue balls but what do bottoms get? Blue asshole? I followed him out of the warehouse and had to hustle to keep up. He quickly crossed the street and entered a short alley that cut the block in half and ran between a little neighborhood grocery store and an old bar that only seemed to be open for the daytime drunks. He stopped, turned fast for such a big guy, put his hand around my throat and shoved me against the brick wall, “Hold my fucking lighter for me, then once I start hitting my pipe I want you to get on your hands and knees and lick my boots.” I paused, “What if someone comes by?” I garbled. He just shook his head, “Like I give a shit. They can either watch the show or join in.” Then, with only the glow from his lighter as I tried to hold it steady, he reached down, rolled up cuff of his jeans and extracted a silver case from the top of his Timberlands. I watched as he deftly removed a glass pipe that had a stem about 3 inches long with a gum drop sized bowl on the end. He then stuffed a wadded up piece of Chore Boy metal cleaning pad that he had pre-balled and burned a bit to get the orange coloring off into the bowl. Next he tapped a big yellowish rock out of a little baggy, set it on top of the metal wadding, latched the case close and slid it back into his boot top. He took the lighter, kicked me, “Get on your fucking knees - wait - take them shorts off so I see that ass - there you go - now get on your knees and clean them boots.” I started slurping on his Timberlands as the BBC flicked his lighter, got the rock melting, then inhaled. I reached up to stroke that long dick I was so eager to taste and feel and got knocked up side the head as he coughed out a toxic cloud, “FUCK THAT SHIT OFF. KEEP YOUR FUCKING HANDS TO YOURSELF AND THAT TONGUE ON MY BOOTS. YOU NEED TO LEARN HOW TO SERVE A REAL MAN - THAT STARTS BY OBEYING AND KEEPS GOING BY YOU ATTENDING TO MY NEEDS. RIGHT NOW - MY NEED IS YOU TO BATHE MY TIMBS WITH THAT TONGUE. LATER - MY NEED WILL BE TO BREED YOU SO DEEP YOU’LL GET FLUID IN YOUR LUNGS - NUTT PNEUMONIA.” Having finished up the rock, he reached down with his calloused hands, patted me on the head, took his metal case back out of his boot, set the pipe back inside, tucked it back in and said, “Get up. Get your shorts on. Come on.” About a block away as we headed east we paused at the corner. We stood by the vacant building for about 5 minutes - him tweaking and me snorting coke from my bottle. A few cars were on 14th Street, but it was not until one slowed, then circled round the block and came down the side street that he moved. He eased out to the edge of the sidewalk, the car stopped, window rolled down, the black guy inside leaned over and he and my bouncer escort exchanged words. The car then backed up away from the lit corner and turned it’s lights off. I followed along and the driver got out, walked to the passenger side, and leaned against the door as we approached. My BBC bouncer pulled the wad of my cash tips from his pocket, peeled off a $10, handed it to the guy, who smiled, unbuckled his pants, and dropped them to the pavement. “Suck his dick,” I was ordered. I looked from one guy to the other and while I wanted to get fucked, got on my knees, grabbed the guy’s hips and started slurping. I didn’t care if someone might walk by - which given the location and time of night was unlikely and the fact that my BBC bouncer was standing behind me watching. “SUCK THAT DICK YOU WHORE - SUCK IT!” the car’s driver said as he started pumping my throat. I did for a bit, but my B.I.C. (Bottom In Charge) role took over and I pulled back, looked up, and breathlessly asked, “Want to fuck me?” That got me a hard boot to the back as a silent ‘shut up’ from my BBC guide, and as the driver did not respond I shrugged, and focused on working my mouth hole instead. The driver’s hands grabbed the back of my head and he started thrusting, pumping, and filled my mouth with a pint of man cum. Satisfied I had sucked him dry he let go of my head, I leaned back, he zipped up, walked around the front of the car, got in, and drove off. I got off the sidewalk and the BBC bouncer said, “You still need to learn. A man’s needs is not always about getting pussy - well it is - but sometimes a nicca just wants a quick blow job or BJ. You need to learn about the niccas here. Take the dick however they offer it. If they are in their car, they are usually just looking for a quick blow job before heading home. If you need more, you need to offer a little something - a little cash but also offering to take it unwrapped is good - they like whore pussy they can pop and drop a nutt in. Now, you’re gonna have to do better if you want me to fuck that ass.” Damn! I had to hustle again to catch up as he headed back to the corner at 14th. “Hey, I never got your name,” I said as I got up to him. He paused, looked at me and said, “No, you didn’t.” Fuck that was hot! Here I was following some anonymous BBC, taking anonymous loads on the street because he said so, all because I was a dick hungry cock hound. I was busy snorting from my bottle when he did a quick step across the street ahead of an oncoming car. I had to wait for the car to pass then practically run to catch up. We turned east on P Street and a block up, crossed over to Logan Circle Park. Tall, wiry bushes had turned what was once a broad walkway into the small park into nothing more than a slim, game trail. Another example of DC’s failed government back at the time. Shadows moved off to the sides - sounds of sex could be heard, voices low, bodies smacking together, and as we got to the middle of the park I could see a small group of men standing under the statute of Commander John Logan astride his horse, looking forlornly over the rundown park. “Stay here,” my BBC guide said. Bits of light randomly shone from the streetlamps that circled the park. Any lamps within the park were long broken, but there was enough light to make out the basics. It was also starting to approach morning, yet a dark and overcast one. Fitting for the dark places I was being taken in DC’s underbelly. I looked down at the remnants of an old park bench, which now was nothing more than a metal leg/end piece bolted to cracked concrete and a few bits of rotten wood. I took my bottle out, snorted some coke, and watched as my guide eased up to the group, shook some hands, then turned his back to me as he did his business. Was he finding me more dick? “Are they going to fuck me?” I asked as he came back to where I was standing. He grabbed my shoulder and pushed me back down the path a couple of steps and quietly said, “No. Something else to learn if you are going to chase street dick is that it’s almost always best to catch guys who are alone. Sitting alone, walking alone, driving alone. Those dudes up there? They’re here for business - slinging dope, rock, needles, whatever. Now, they don’t bother folks who come here to fuck around they just don’t want to be bothered and if you had gone up to ask them if they wanted to fuck you’d get beat down. True - I know some of those niccas would roll up in that ass another place - another time - but this is their business time.” I looked crestfallen and swayed a bit as I snorted some more coke. “Easy there pussy boy,” my BBC bouncer said as he steadied me. “I want you fucked up, not dropped out, cause I’ll leave your ass where it falls. Don’t worry. I came here to get as much rock as they could offer with that nice wad of cash of yours. When I fuck you, I want to be lit as that makes me horny as shit and I want you lit too. You’ll see - the pipe will make you climb my dick like a pro – at least for the second round. You’ll be lucky to stay conscious for the first one. I also got someone here for you to see to see how good of a whore you are and then - then if you do my man right, we’ll see about what comes next.” Well that perked me right up and in my excitement I ran right into the back of my BBC guide who had stopped in the middle of the trail, seemed to orient himself, then pushed through a small gap in the bushes on the left side of the path. Lucky for me he was tall and created a darker shadow to follow. He only went about 5-feet before he stopped, and asked, “How’s it going Russell?” I stepped up beside my guide into a small space that had been beat out in the middle of a bunch of the tall bushes. There was a black guy who was clearly homeless sitting on the ground, smoking a hand rolled cigarette, his face highlighted by the cast from a little fire burning in coffee can. My BBC guide pulled out my stack of tips that he had left, peeled off a $5, tossed it on the ground and said, “I brought you some white ass. Got a fresh boy here who’s trying to learn to be a good street whore and I know with how things are, you don’t get pussy like you used to. Figured you could use some.” The homeless man groaned as he stood up, looked at me, “You trying to take some dick boy?” he asked. I looked from him to my BBC bouncer and back. Yeah I had taken the guy on the street corner up from Garrett’s house who was begging for money, but that was really my only experience with homeless dick and somehow this seemed - ‘worse’. “Yes,” I said. He huffed liked he didn’t believe me. I dropped my shorts, turned, “Come on, stick it in me,” I said. He laughed, “What? You think I lay up around here with a hard dick just waiting for pussy to stumble on by? You got to work my shit first. Nice ass though. You gonna let me bust one in it? Want me to wipe my dick off a bit before you start sucking it? No? Jesus man, think you may have a real freak whore here.” I got on my knees, careful not to tip over the coffee can fire pit and although the dick he pulled out of his pants was crusted, ripe, and smelled like an outhouse, I gobbled that stink stick down. My BBC guardian stood behind us watching and smoking a fresh rock on his pipe as I worked the flesh pipe in my mouth, got it hard, turned around, and let him push it into my ass. “I WANT YOUR CUM IN ME RUSSELL, FUCK IT - FUCK ME GOOD - YEAH JUST LIKE THAT,” I said as the filthy 10-incher pushed in and out of my hole. “CREAM MY WHITE PUSSY MAN, PU T THAT LOAD IN, FUCK IT HARDER, GO ON, HARDER, PLEASE – CUM IN ME…” A few minutes of me talking dirty later, Russell was close, “YOU A NASTY ONE AIN’T YA? HOT DAMN THAT’S GOOD ASS - READY FOR THIS CUM IN THAT ASS? DON’T PULL AWAY NOW - I’M JUST ABOUT THERE - JUST ABOUT THERE - HERE YOU GO - FILLING THAT WHITE ASSHOLE UP - FILLING YOU UP WITH MY DARK ROAST. PUMPING THAT PUSSY FULL WITH MY BIG LOAD.” Russell kept jamming my hole as squirt after squirt was added to the cum remnants already inside me. Finally spent, he yanked his dick out, ordered me to clean it off, and once done, plopped back down on the ground and tossed some more bits of paper and refuse in his coffee can fire, fanning the little flames to life. My BBC guide tucked his pipe back into his boot top, led the way out through the bramble path, and before we cleared the brush he stopped, turned, grabbed me by throat and pulled me close. His beard tickled my face as the wisps of crack smoke from his lungs tickled my nose, “Reach down and touch my fucking dick,” he ordered. I would have gasped in wonder if his hand had been looser. All I could do was gurgle a bit. “Seeing that shit made my dick rock hard. FUCK! If it was later at night I would take your ass right here - let you bleed out in the bushes as I rape that pussy to death - maybe another night,” he warned. I shook with anticipation. He let go, we cleared the brush line, he stopped, looked around like he was getting his bearings, then smiled, “I got the perfect place to go next. Spot be hopping 24/7.” We headed zig-zag north a few blocks, then cut to the west, back over to 14th Street, then further north, and cut west again to 15th. At W Street we turned left and immediately veered right off the sidewalk onto a paved path. My BBC guide had been laser focused on our destination and had barely said two words to me. He seemed like he was jonesing for his pipe – about as bad as I was in need of his - and when I pulled out my bottle of coke to snort some he snatched it from me, stuffed it in his pocket and said, “No. No more. You need to do this next part without flashing that damn bottle to the fucking world. Safer that way, plus I need you ready for the pipe.” He now paused, looked around, there were a few passing the intersection a block over on 16th, but otherwise the streets were quiet. “This is Malcolm X Park,” he explained with a wave to the dark, unlit, path. “The park runs oh several blocks up the hill. The white folks call it Meridian Hill Park. Trying to white wash it like everything else in this city. For now, it’s still the place to go for 24/7 freak shit. Drugs, street trade, just niccas looking to hang and smoke, get a blow job, fuck some ass or pussy. Once we walk through them posts there you stick close. If you with me, no one will fuck with you - well they will - but you know, they won’t try to rob or hurt you or shit. About half way up is a spot I know. Used to be a pump house or something for the fountain that is cut back deep into a wall. I know we’ll find the freak shit there that I want – them rough street trade niccas that will gang rape that pussy good and get it ready for me.” I suddenly got nervous and touched his arm, “Won’t we get busted or arrested or something?” I asked. He laughed, “ Fuck no! The cops know better than to go in there even in the day. Neighbors too. They all stay out, that is of course unless they scoping. This is where shit goes down and oh, right about now, we’ll run into the dudes who have gotten off the night shift, or have been at the after parties and too fucked up to go home, or are fucked up enough to get down on the DL, or guys like me who can come here and get what I want by force if need be and no one saying shit. Hell, I think the cops and the city like leaving it like this. Rundown, overgrown, lights all broken and shit. Cheaper, but keeps the wild shit in a central spot. Otherwise you’d have brothas and the Latinos, and the Maryland boys spread out from Adams Morgan, to Logan Circle, to Capitol Hill trying to find some little spot to get into just a minute of innocent trouble.” Sure didn’t sound like anything innocent happened in this place. Like Logan Circle’s park, this one was overgrown, strewn with trash, lights were busted, and as I gazed up the multi-tiered fountain and steps that cascaded down the hillside, I thought this would be a fucking awesome Halloween haunt. Only it wasn’t All Hallows Eve - it was a hazy morning in the nation’s capital, yet I still hoped for some demons to spawn inside my living flesh. “Wait here,” my BBC guide said as we got about halfway up the Hill and angled off to the right into a thicket of hollies that opened before stone archway. Flickers of lighters and matches were like Polaroid snapshots of the men milling about inside. Two guys passed me heading back the way we came. The looks they gave me were a mix of curiosity and a warning like I was treading on ground where I didn’t belong. A few seconds later the bouncer rejoined me, wrapped his hand tight around my throat and put his face close to mine again, “It’s time. Time to get that ass fucked good. My buddies say the spot’s jumping this morning with limited options, so that means you’re gonna get all the fucking nicca dick and nutt you can handle. Here’s how this is playing out. You and I are going in there and off to the back and side is a stone bench. I’m gonna sit back, kick out my feet, hit my rock, and watch the fucking show. You - you are gonna get naked, get on your fucking hands and knees and lick my boots again. Then - then you are going to experience a RING OF FIRE.” “What is a RING OF FIRE?” I asked. Fingers squeezed tighter to cut off any other questions. “A RING OF FIRE IS A BBC GANG RAPE SPECIAL. THE CALL HAS GONE OUT TO EVERY FUCKING CRACK HEAD IN THE PARK - THAT’S WHERE THOSE GUYS WENT OFF TOO. SOON THIS ALCOVE WILL BE BRIMMING WITH BROTHAS ALL LOOKING TO LIGHT THEIR PIPES UP AND STAND IN A CIRCLE - CREATING A RING OF FIRE AROUND THAT WHITE PUSSY ASS AS ONE AFTER ANOTHER DICK IT DOWN, NUTT UP, AND TAG OFF. YOU MENTIONED YOU TOOK A FEW DICKS THE OTHER NIGHT AT SOME GUY’S HOUSE WITH HIM AND HIS HOMIES WATCHING THE GAME. THAT’S LIGHT WEIGHT SHIT. YOU IN THE RING NOW WITH HEAVY WEIGHT ROCK STARS. COME ON. WHILE WE WAIT, YOU NEED TO GET READY AND THE FIRST FLAME TO GET LIT IN THIS RING WILL BE YOU - TIME FOR YOU TO BECOME A CRACKHEAD WHORE! TIME FOR YOU TO GET BURNED BY THE RING OF FIRE SO THEN IT WILL BE MY TURN AS MY SEED NEEDS TO COME OUT AND BURN THAT ASS!” (*From the author: If you like the story let me know - post a reply or give a reputation. Thanks to everyone who takes the time to read these stories and for the continued support!)

Part 3 - THY KING-DOM CUM: “WELCOME TO FOOT LONG FRIDAYS,” the BBC bull said as he welcomed me into his home. I guessed it was his house. Raymond - the mandingo tagger security guard who nutted me and had given me a ride before handcuffing me and dragging me into the house - had called the man Pops. I was tweaked on Tina and bold and maybe just a tad mouthy when I replied, “Wait - isn’t it Saturday?” SLAP! A good slap to the side of the head shut me up and as I wiped the unexpected tears from my eyes from the sting, the BBC bull stepped closer, the wet tip of his dick pressed between the crack of my closed thighs and he asked, “You know how to serve a dominant black man? YOU KNOW HOW TO SERVE A DOMINANT BLACK KING?” Fucking Christ I about shot a wad right then and there! Seconds later my pants had been hauled down, my white peach ass exposed, my pink hole turned red and wet as I was invited to experience what Foot Long Fridays meant - extra meat! My host calmly explained as he wiggled his 12-inch snake inside my ass like a python slithering in its den, “I’m a BOSS. I got that that uncut bussy beater that likes to fuck throats and stretch holes. I like wet sloppy puss puss. Fucking hell - looks like my boy done me right today bringing me your fucking whore ass. I can smell that nicca nutt dripping out. What’d he give you? Two loads? Three? It’s all good - I know how to use a cum dump that needs it’s box beat and skeeted.” Suddenly my ass had a VACANCY sign in bold neon colors above it as the bull pulled his mahogany dick from my hole and casually walked over to the counter by the door to the garage. I clumsily turned around; my hands still cuffed behind my back and my pants now around my ankles. I was breathing hard from the pain of his 12-inch invasion, yet my puny white dick stood straight and tall like a lighthouse against the rough seas. I then started to stammer over my own tongue as the bull pulled out a holster, gun, badge and keys, set them on the ceramic tiled counter, then casually unclipped the gun and badge and hefted them in each hand as if he was the scales of justice trying to assess if my ass was worthy. He walked back to me, held the gold badge out, I squinted and read the words on the gold star DEPUTY SHERIFF - PRINCE GEORGE’S CO. Fuck he was a cop! My eyes wide, the bull laughed, “Yeah, I’m a LEO - Law Enforcement Officer, but that don’t stop me from fucking over pussy bottoms like you. You a pussy bottom? Want this big mandingo dick tagging that ass again?” While I tried to get my mouth to form a reply the bull daddy held up a small set of keys, “Those handcuffs my boy clamped on you look tight? Are they too tight? Here, let me fix that.” I naively smiled, turned, and pushed my locked wrists back so he could take the cuffs off. A snick and turn and the right cuff dropped away from my wrist. I exhaled in relief, brought my arm around and with the cuff still dangling from my left arm began to rub it, joyous in my freedom. “WHAT THE FUCK! HEY - WHAT THE FUCK YOU DOING MAN -STOP - NO NO NO!” I cried out. Too late. The BBC daddy bull grabbed my wrists and with ease reclamped the handcuffs around them once again so I was bound and chained – this time with my hands in front. I grunted as Raymond’s pops spun me around and slammed all 12-inches of his swollen dick back into my wet ass. My handcuffed wrists clanged against the old tile of the kitchen counter as the BBC dick slid in and out and back and forth like a lumberjack. “YOU EVER BEEN JAIL FUCKED? I GIVE FAGGOT BOYS LIKE YOU THAT FIRST LESSON OF WHAT IT’S LIKE TO GET DICKED RAW THEN THROWN INTO GEN POP FOR ANYONE BIGGER THAN YOU TO BREED THAT BITCH ASS. READY TO GET THAT ASSHOLE RAMMED? GET THAT SPINAL TAP? YOU BETTA SNORT YOUR TINA UP YOU TWEAKED OUT FREAK - I GOTS THAT BOSS DICK AND PLAN TO DEEP STROKE THAT HOLE, BANG IT OUT, QUENCH THAT THIRSTY PUSSY!” I cried, yelped, squirmed, whimpered, pleaded, and begged as that 12-inch bull dick took charge and rape fucked my raw ass like a man who had been offered his first bite of food in days. I screamed in frustration as once again he yanked his dick out, leaving my hole gaping and feeling air. He laughed as he slapped my ass hard, “FUCKING BITCH, CHILL A SEC. I GOTTA BURN ONE THEN WE’LL GET THE FREAK BACK ON.” I was prancing my ass back and forth like a ballerina in the Nutt Cracker as my ‘slut mode’ kicked in and my hole wanted to swallow that dick to the root! I sighed and my eyes rolled back in my head as Pops started banging me again, slamming me against the kitchen counter like some $2 whore. “QUIT YOUR SQUIRMING!” he demanded, “YOU WANT THIS DICK OR WHAT? IF YOU WANT SOME MORE NUTT IN THAT WHITE PUSSY THEN HOLD THE FUCK STILL AND LET ME WRECK IT, BREAK IT, AND TREAT IT BAD. BREED YOU LIKE THE SKANK PUSSY TAIL YOU ARE. I DON’T DO STREET BITCHES, BUT I WILL TURN YOU OUT AND MAKE YOU INTO ONE. THAT WHAT YOU WANT? WANNA BE A STREET BITCH WHORE? LET A BUNCH OF NICCAS TAG THAT PUSSY UNTIL IT’S DRIPPING AND DROPPING CREAM? YOU A WORTHY PUSSY BOY FOR MY LOAD? ARE YOU? TELL ME HOW GOOD YOU ARE - HOW WORTHY YOU ARE? HOW MUCH YOU DESERVE MY FUCKING NUTT! FUCK YEAH - TELL ME - FUCK YEAH BEG FOR THIS BOSS DICK - FUCK YEAH TAKE THIS FUCKING LOAD MOTHA-FUCKA!” Minotaur semen drizzled from my heifer hole as the BBC bull continued to seed me deep. It took a long time for his shaft to soften, and when it finally did and he eased back out of my hole he cuffed the side of my head, “GET THE FUCK ON YOUR KNEES, LICK THAT DICK CLEAN.” I was happy to oblige and greedily suckled and nursed on that thick shaft, tasting the rank and file of his deep fuck. But then as soon as the blood began to engorge him again he slapped me again, “Get the fuck up. Come on.” I huffed in frustration at now having two holes free of dick. I snorted some more Tina, stood up, awkwardly tried following after him then stopped, kicked my sneakers off, pulled my pants all the way off, and finally feeling free, walked around the bar counter to the dining area where he was seated at the head of the table, legs splayed, his dick dripping aftermath onto the old, worn carpet. The BBC bull relit his blunt, exhaled, the wafts of smoke like gossamer in the early morning sun that peeked in through the sliding glass doors that opened to the back yard. He looked at me and said as a statement and not a question, “YOU’RE A TAGGING SLUT.” OK, yeah, no shit Dick Tracey. He pulled his phone close, “Let me text the guys and let em know I got a tag team whore here needing that pussy gaped.” Again - not a question or even asking - just a statement. While my BBC host seemed chilled and satisfied I was anxious and horny as fuck. I was also itching to get those damned cuffs off and roughly slapped my chained wrists up on the table in front of him. He glared at me like I had just nicked the Crown Jewels. Fuck that table was older and more worn than the house and I easily counted a dozen scorch marks around his ashtray from where somebody let smokes burn out on the wood. He shook his head as if in answer to a question only he could hear then said, “I’m a LEO - Prince George’s County Sheriff's Department, but I’m off for the next several days so I plan to be that straight-up-buck and party and fuck til my balls drop off.” I started to say, “Yeah you said that already,” but caught myself and instead said, “Is Raymond your son? Like biological son or just play son?” He laughed, “Play son? Whatever the fuck is that? No, he’s my blood son. I was 12 when his momma popped him out.” I must have choked on my Tina spit, because he laughed then continued, “Yeah I was fucking and breeding pussy as a real youngin. I had to. Christ, my balls and dick just ached all the God damn time. By 17 I had 5 kids spread around the DMV that I knew of and sure there was a lot more, but my boy’s the only one still in the area.” he then paused, inhaled his smoke, looked off into space a bit somber, then said, “My daddy had tried to tell me when the first one came along but I didn’t listen.” Time slowly marched on as he sat there, his words hanging in the air, mixing with his weed smoke. My Tina ADD kicked and I huffed and asked, “Tell you what man?” My BBC bull host took his time to reply to my prodding question, “My daddy told me that with a dick like mine and being the horny fuck that I was born to be - just like him - to not make the same mistakes he made and to only fuck street whores, gangbang sluts, and boy pussy. The hole didn’t matter as long as I got my nutt and dropping a bunch of babies was not worth it. He was right. I might have learned late, but by the time I hit 18 and went to college that’s all I fucked - whores, sluts, and boy butt and my boy’s listened better than I did and learned right.” Yeah, I could attest to that. Then my eyes got wide and my mouth made a little “OH!” joyous sound as what he said finally connected in my Tina-addled brain - I had just taken loads from a son and his father - both huge BBC - fucking hot! The mandingo’s phone started buzzing and skittering on the rough hewn tabletop. He set the blunt between his lips, his eyes squinching as he inhaled and read and scrolled through the messages. He set the phone down, put the blunt on the chipped edge of the ashtray, and as the plume of 420 smoke twirled and whirled towards the cobweb covered ceiling light above he smiled and said, “Some of the fellas are on their way so we can all keep fucking the shit outta you. We all professional guys - let’s see - there’s a fireman from one county over, some white collar office guys, a landscape company owner. Oh damn! Bet he would like seeing you get ganged by his work crew! A couple of post office workers and other federal government folks and a few armed service buddies - maybe a dozen or so of us who are tight with another dozen or two I can hit. Don’t worry about no hood ghetto stupid antics shit. We’re all professional and straight, married, single, divorced, widowed, or whatever, but what we got in common is true horse shaft dicks meant to train bitches and we like barebacking whores. I know you’re a tagging whore and since I already dipped and slipped up in that jizzed pussy know you ready for the next level of the game. My son’s still a youngin and trust - we go hard! But….” There was a long, drawn out pause as he hit the blunt again, exhaled, savored the sweet, tangy, high, then said, “But first, we gotta shave that pussy. You got a bunch of short and curlies back there like you full of BBC protein and it’s ‘Pussy Hair Gone Wild’!” I followed the BBC bull up the carpeted stairs, down a hall, through a bedroom with a half made, rumpled bed, and into the master bath. The counter was covered with the typical manly mess, scattered half-smoked blunts, and other drug/personal grooming paraphernalia. I was ordered to bend over the piss caked toilet and my hole quivered as the BBC bull licked his lips, fingered my cummy hole, wiped the edges dry, used a pair of electric trimmers to do a quick shearing, then took a cheap drugstore razor and began trimming as my bussy bush. I yelped as my crack got nicked, and instead of apologizing he just gave me a hard slap across the ass and laughed. Lesson learned - a dude chilled out on 420 is probably not the best barber for your tender bits. A few more wipes with the dry towel and he asked, “You ready to get pistol whipped by this LEO dick?” I bent forward with my head as far into the crusty toilet bowl as I could, my cuffed hands resting on the rim, opening my hole, fluttering my bussy lips, and begged for him to fuck me. I wanted to be used, degraded, dominated, humiliated, and stuffed with his 12-inches. He just laughed, walked back towards the door, grabbed a blunt, and lit up and headed back down stairs. Damn it! I paused before following, snorted two big nostrils full of Tina, then repeated. Fucking Christ that burned! Maybe I should get some water. I left the bathroom, headed down the stairs and towards the kitchen and was surprised when I did not find the BBC bull waiting. I took a dirty glass out of the sink, ran the tap, downed some water, and about jumped out of my skin when he bellowed from behind me, “GET THAT ASS OVER HERE - WHAT THE FUCK YOU DOING?” I turned, followed; we went down the stairs this time and through a wooden door into the basement that looked like some animal had tried to claw it’s way through it to get out. The BBC bull said, “It’s rare that houses around here have a basement, but I had it added for extra when the house was built. This a place where the brothas can come, hang out, chill, watch a game on the big screen, drink, smoke or do whatever they want and when things get really rolling and we happen to find that whore hole that can handle being tagged by a mandingo pack who are all swinging big double digit dicks, then we also got a special place for that…” I stood outside a white door off to the side as he stepped into the next room, flicked a switch and had to smile as the dim lights barely illuminated a dark den of twisted sin. I followed him over to a credenza that was against the wall and watched as he started to roll a fresh blunt. I turned and looked around at the fuck bed in the middle of the room, the benches, pillows, a TV that he used the remote to turn on that was playing BDSM porn. I turned back when he slid a plate my way and said, “Snort up chem slut.” I then watched as he emptied several small baggies of pills into little candy dishes including one he piled high with Viagra. He then opened a drawer and pulled out huge bags of weed, then bags of Tina, and more. “Are you a drug dealer?” I asked. “Fuck no,” he replied, “You ever watched Power? You know the TV show with 50 Cent? I’m the distro. Fucking baby mamas drain me dry, so…well let’s just say I need to keep my side hustles going, but this bit of shit? This ain’t nothin. This is just same Candy Crush for the brothas. Here’s how shit going down - this ain’t about hanging out and becoming Facebook friends - it’s about a hot hole meeting a hot shaft and taking hot cum. These niccas will roll in, find you ass up/strung up - rape that shit, nutt, and bounce or maybe hit it again and repeat as some of the brothas are fucking long winded especially after they start dropping the pills. We may be professionals, but behind this door we can let the street thug in us out! We WILL hurt you. We WILL rape you. We WILL knock you out. We WILL chem you up until you pass out. The whole basement is sound proofed and this room is done like double, so you can fucking scream, cry, whatever as no one will hear and frankly that shit will make our dicks drip. I got one bro with 14-inches who will make you scream no matter what and I love fucking pussy after he’s dug around in it. What you want or say from now on don’t matter as we don’t give a fuck cause you’re getting fucked the way we want, how we want, when we want. You understand?” I shook in excitement and fear as I snorted more Tina and my eyes rolled back in my head as before I could catch my breath a dry, 12-inch BBC shaft was ripping back up my ass, “YOU READY FOR SOME MORE KING-DOM CUM IN THAT BUSSY? BEND THE FUCK OVER AND LET ME DIG BACK UP IN THERE. I LOVE SEEDING PUSSY THAT’S ALREADY WET WITH MY DNA. EVERY MANDINGO THAT COMES THROUGH IS GOING TO FUCK YOU RAW AND BREED YOU AS THEY TAG IN AND OUT.” The bull paused as he took another hit of his blunt, set it in the ashtray, reached into another drawer and pulled out a chewed up, brown leather belt. With his dick in my ass and my body pressed against the credenza he slipped the belt over my head, across my mouth, and like a good sub I instinctively opened my mouth as he worked the rough leather between my teeth like a harness bit. He yanked my head back and demanded, “RIDE THAT FUCKIN DICK! RIDE IT! WANT THIS KING NUTT? THIS DOM CUM? THIS KING-DOM CUM IN THAT PUSSY? FUCKIN TWEAKED OUT FAGGOT WHORE MAKE THAT ASS BOUNCE AND CLAP IF YOU WANT THIS SHAKE SHACK MILK IN YOU! FUCKING NASTY TAGGING SLUT - CUM SLUT. ARCH THAT GOD DAMN BACK! SHOW ME YOU’RE A SEX FREAK PUSSY HOLE. LET ME WRECK IT DEEPER - YOU WANT THAT 14-INCHER JIZZING YOUR GUTS? HUH? SHOW ME YOU WANT IT. I DON’T CARE IF YOU THINK YOU CAN’T FUCKING TAKE OR IT WON’T FIT. SMASH YOUR HOLE BACK ON MY DICK - THAT’S IT - SLAM BACK - LET ME SEE YOU BREAK YOUR OWN HOLE OPEN AS I BEAT IT DOWN WITH THIS LEO NIGHT STICK! TURN YOU INTO A JIZZ JUNKIE!” I was chewing at the leather belt in my mouth, spit drooling from the edges of my lips as I gripped the edge of the credenza with my cuffed hands and pushed back as hard as I could onto the BBC bull dick that was cutting and splitting me wider. “PUT IT BACK IN! PUT IT BACK IN!” I frustratingly pleaded as he yanked his dick out, dropped the belt on the floor, kicked the buckled end with his foot, then stepped beside me, relit his blunt, picked up his cell and checked the status of the other taggers. Fuck I hate when tops do that! Just as my hole opens up and I get into the groove they pull up sort. He exhaled, turned, pointed to an orange loop hanging from a dark length of chain from the ceiling, “See that?” he asked, “That’s my newest bitch fucker. Here - look at the site on my phone - https://www.mr-s-leather.com/suspension-hand-slings - It’s a Mr. S suspension sling. Me and the guys are going to chain you up just like this and fuck the livin shit outta you!” Two text messages popped up on the screen, he smiled, hit the blunt, set the phone down and said, “The brothas have started to arrive. I’ve got about 30-seconds before I have to start sharing that cunt - now bend the fuck over and take this KING-DOM CUM!” (*From the author: If you like the story let me know - post a reply or give a reputation. Thanks to everyone who takes the time to read these stories and for the continued support!)

Part 2 – Mandingo Tagger Tag Teams: I could smell his need to fuck as I walked past the security guard who had unlocked and opened the office door for me. Maybe it was because he partially blocked the door as I came through so that in order to get past him I had to rub my ass against the firm bulge in his pants. The office door clicked and locked, four sets of eyes stared me down, but like I said, being tweaked out on Tina makes me bold. “Pay to play huh?” I asked rhetorically, “How’s that saying go? Don’t let your mouth write checks your ass can’t cash? Well my ass is flush, ready, willing and fucking able to take whatever the fuck you guys got!” While one guy huffed in frustration, as he had to help someone who had stopped at the desk, the other three shoved me into the small bathroom, blocking any chance of escape. I looked around and screwed up my face in disgust - these fuckers were filthy! That bathroom looked like it had never seen a cleaning and smelled like an outhouse. One of the new guys turned and slapped the two that had been there earlier on the chest and said, “Yo, cover for us for a few. I need to teach this fag a lesson.” The bathroom door closed and it was just me and him. I backed up to the brown, crusty sink as the drip of the faucet mixed with the beat of my heart pounding in my ears. This security guard looked pissed, mean, and like he wanted to beat the fuck out of me and for a brief instant I questioned my tactics. He then closed the gap between us, grabbed me by throat, bent me backwards, and as he snarled and spittle flew he said, “I AIN’T DOWN WITH ALL THAT FAG SHIT AND MY DICK ONLY FUCKS PUSSY - REAL WOMAN PUSSY YOU FEEL ME? BUT MY BABY MAMA LEFT ME WITH BLUE BALLS THIS MORNING WHEN I TRIED TO GET SOME, SO I WILL - FUCKING PAY ATTENTION - I WILL LET YOU SUCK ME ONLY AND YOU WILL SWALLOW MY NUTT. NO HANDS. DON’T FUCKING TOUCH ME. JUST GET ON YOUR KNEES AND LET ME BLOW DOWN YOUR THROAT.” I gasped for air for a sec, got on my knees, tried to angle back and forth to unzip my pants and got a swift kick in the balls, “YO FAG BOY - NONE OF THAT SHIT,” the security tagger said, “I TOLD YOU. I AIN’T LIKE THAT. NOW SHUT THE FUCK UP AND GIMME SOME NECK. SHOW ME WHAT A CUM HUNGRY FAG YOU ARE FOR THIS BIG BLACK DICK AND TASTY CREAM NUTT!” A few minutes later he flung the door open and announced to his buddies, “Fucked that bitch ass good,” then proceeded to the desk. The next security guard came in, closed the bathroom door, and said, “You trying to get that ass tagged again? Bro out there said you was slutted out by the homies upstairs - used like a fucking whore - banged out in the window and all kinds of crazy shit. That true? Yeah? Fuck yeah! Gimme a snort and let me up that ass, I got a huge fucking nutt to drop.” I grimaced as his big dick split my hole open, cracking apart the dried Mandingo Tagger loads, reopening the cuts and scrapes in my ass, peeling back the fresh scabbing and sanding my gut lining smooth with his rough BBC. “DID MY CO-WORKER BREED THAT ASS? HUH? YEAH? YOU SURE? FEELS AWFUL FRESH, BUT THEN I GET TO BUST IT OPEN. I KNOW THAT NICCA FRONTIN - PLAYIN LIKE HE A FREAK ASS MOTHA FUCKA BUT HE AIN’T - NOT LIKE ME. I LIKE THAT FREAK SHIT - RAUNCHY SHIT - NASTY SHIT. OH HELL YEAH, SMELLING THAT NICCA NUTT NOW DRAINING OUT. FUCK YEAH! HITTIN THAT SLOPPY PUSSY - YEAH BITCH BEND THE FUCK OVA AND TAKE MY DICK - TAKE IT! TAKE THAT DICK! TAKE IT! TAKE THAT DADDY DICK - HELP A DADDY OUT - DADDY DICK-EM - DADDY DICKIN THAT PUSSY!” the second security guard tagger exclaimed as he added his load. The long BBC was yanked from my slimed hole, “Oh fuckin hell,” the security guard said as he looked down at his pants. They were crusted and stained with mandingo nutt juice and white bussy ass slime. I smiled, kneeled in front of him and started lapping at his polyester uniform pants. My tongue swiped, swabbed, and suckled the curdled mix and in addition to getting his pants Spic-n-Span clean, it made his dick rock hard again. “God damn it!” he growled as he tried adjusting himself. Without a word I bent over the sink, looked in the mirror and met his eyes and said, “Come on man, push another load in, see how deep your dick can go now that I’m opened up.” Good thing the sink was bolted well to the wall as I had to hold on for the BBC rollercoaster fuck he threw down and knew I would have big bruises at the top of my thighs from being slammed into the dirty porcelain sink as he seeded me with another mandingo load. Finally satisfied, and his uniform clean, the security guard opened the door, stepped out, and was replaced by the guard I had shared my Tina with when I first got into the building. He turned and locked the door, then paused and looked at me. He was handsome, younger than me, and on the outside looked like he was clean cut, but his eyes showed a freak flare - a flame of nasty that burned bright. The security guard held out his right hand, palm up, a fat baggy of white offered, “Thought you might be needing some more meth. The way you putting that shit down, would be a fuckin damn shame if you started to come down. I like cum sluts that are fucked up - you fucked up? You need some more mandingo dick? Yeah? You ain’t been filled yet? I got 10.5 inches that’s as fucking thick as my wrist that says you will be.” I grunted as he dropped his drawers, started digging at my hole with his long nails, held my breath as I felt him slice my gut lining, then cried out as he slammed into me and pressed me against the wall, “YOU LIKE THAT?” the security guard asked, “SUBMIT TO ME BITCH BOY - ARCH THAT FUCKING BACK AND LET ME IN THAT BLOODY HOLE. I FEEL ALL THAT NICCA NUTT SLOPPING AROUND - JESUS YOU GOT A DEEP PUSSY! EVER TAKE A FIST? NO - HMM - WELL THAT’S GOOD. COME ON SLUT - PUSH YOUR HIPS BACK - RIDE ME - WORK THAT NUTT OUTTA MY BALLS - WORK IT - TWERK THAT PUSSY ASS. HOW YOU GOING TO PAY ME BACK FOR THE METH? YOU ALREADY SNORTED SOME SO WHATCHA YOU GOIN TO DO FOR ME? ANYTHING? THAT RIGHT? ANYTHING? HELL YEAH, I KNOW EXACTLY WHAT YOU CAN DO - FUCK YEAH. SEEDING YOU RAW - FILLING YOU WITH MY SPICEY JIZZ! HELL YEAH! TAGGING THAT BUSSY WITH MY PAINT - TAGGING YOU WITH ‘CUM HERE’ WRITTEN IN BBC JIZZ - THE BEST SORTA PAINT FOR THEM GUT WALLS.” I leaned against the wall, breathing heavy like I had just spent a long, hot summer day doing manual labor. The Tagger security guard who had just bred me chuckled, smiled, held out his hand and said, “I’m Raymond.” I was going to reply then my ass cramped, burped, and BBC nutt and ass juice sluiced out the back and sprayed the wall. “Oh fuck!” I said, thoroughly embarrassed. Raymond’s face got serious. His left hand came up and smacked me good as he said, “Get the fuck down there and lick that up. I didn’t drop a nutt for you to waste it. Now use that fucking tongue!” OK, the walls were streaked with dark, yellow stains from all the piss that had missed the toilet, so I got a mouthful of nutt, ass juice, and dried, old piss, and my dick twitched and hole needed more. I started to pull back and Raymond slammed my head forward into the drywall, “SHOW ME WHAT A SUB HUMAN BITCH HOLE YOU ARE - LICK THAT SHIT UP - THAT’S IT - OBEY YOUR FUCKING MASTER!” My tongue scraped the spooge and filth off the wall and then I yelped as Raymond squatted behind me and slammed his dick back in, “THAT’S IT YOU NASTY SLUT - USE THAT FUCKING TONGUE! DON’T MISS A FUCKING SPOT. THEM WALLS BETTER BE SHINY AND CLEAN IF YOU WANT SOME MORE NUTT IN THE HOLE. JESUS CHRIST YOU A FREAK! YOU JUST A SUB-HUMAN FAG FUCK HOLE AREN’T YOU? SPIT SHINE IT - SPIT ON IT - COME ON NOW - THIS CRAZY SHIT’S GETTING ME CLOSE. MILK MY DICK. MILK MY PIPE - LET ME LAY THAT PIPE IN THEM GUTS YOU NASTY FREAK! LET’S MAKE SOME OREOS AND I GOT THE MILK - COME ON NOW - FUCKING JIZZ WHORE - FUCKING JIZZ DUMP - SLURP THAT SHIT - SLURP IT - OH OH OH OH!!” “You going to give me a ride home?” I meekly asked as Raymond stuffed his now deflated dick back into his pants and zipped. He gave a look, a dismissal wave, and a “PHEW,” before opening the door and leaving me standing there, my tongue coated in bathroom funk and my ass coated in Tagger nutt. His fellow security guard had his dick out and was spitting on it before the damn door even closed. “MY FUCKING WIFE IS PINGING ME WONDERING WHERE THE FUCK I’M AT. YOU MADE ME LATE. AIIGHT - TIME TO HIT THAT SHIT - I GOTTA BLOW THIS NUTT AND BOUNCE OUTTA HERE!” Far too quickly my ass was reloaded and I was alone in a rank bathroom that was cleaner then when I started. I felt like I had to piss, but nothing came out, so I got my pants on, did a few huge snorts of Tina for the road, and walked back out to the office. The two security guards now on duty ignored me. There were folks coming in and out of the lobby and while not morning, it was getting closer so the clubs must have let out and folks were coming home and those real freaks were heading out for their second wind to party, play, drink, or whatever. I knew the general direction back to the city and made my way out of the parking lot and started hoofing it down the sidewalk. The streetlights cast a hazy, spotty glow and only about 1 in 4 were actually working. I was too tweaked out to be scared or give a shit and paid no mind to the cars whizzing by. I was mumbling to myself as I walked, pissed that the Mandingo Taggers took all my cash, pissed that no one would give me a ride, but then smiled as I felt the warmth of nutt seep out of my banged out ass hole. “YO - YO - FUCKING YO MAN!” a voice sounded from my left. I paused, turned, and white car slow rolled up beside me with green/gold letters on the door that said ‘PARKER SECURITY’. It was Raymond, who had been by far the best fucker out of the four Mandingo Tagger security guards. I stopped, smiled, walked over to the open window, bent forward and placed my arms crossed on the door and asked, “What’s up officer?” Raymond put his right hand forward on the seat and leaned closer to the open window, “Get that fuckin ass in this car man,” he sniped. I opened the door, slid in, shut the door, Raymond cranked up the tunes and picked a lit joint out of the ashtray and hit it, then offered it to me. I declined, reached into my pocket and pulled out the baggy of Tina and took a big snort then rubbed some on my gums. He smiled, shook his head as smoke streamed from his nostrils and out the open driver’s side window. We drove for a few minutes then I looked around and said, “Hey man, the city’s back that way I think. Where we going?” Raymond exhaled, shook his head, “I need to stop at the house first, don’t get your fucking panties in a wad.” He knew about the red lace panties I wore to meet the Mandingo Taggers? No, I was just paranoid. Several minutes - another joint and more meth later - we pulled into the long driveway of a good sized house at the end of a Cul-de-Sac that looked like about every other house we had driven by in this suburban dead zone. It seemed like even the crickets new not to make noise. All the street lights worked, a few lawns had automatic sprinklers going, there was even a paper boy that we passed on his bike as he artfully tossed the extra-large weekend edition up onto the porches and walkways. The garage door slowly raised up, Raymond eased his cruiser in to the left of a full-sized, pickup truck, set the car in park, and finished off his blunt while the garage door closed. “Come on,” he said. I got out of the car, walked around the front, “After you,” Raymond said as he pointed to the steps and the white door that led into the house. Just as I got to the bottom step and placed my hand on the railing, Raymond grabbed my right wrist, yanked it back, clamped cold steel around it that pinched deep into my flesh, then in my state of confusion and wonder he grabbed my left wrist, and did the same as he cuffed my hands together behind my back. “WHAT THE FUCK?” I bellowed. Raymond shoved me to the side and slammed me face first into a set of metal tool cabinets, “SHUT THE FUCK. YOU OWE ME FOR THAT BIG BAG OF METH YOU GOT STUFFED IN THEM POCKETS - TIME TO PAY UP.” I chuckled, smiled, turned my head and said, “Damn dude. All you had to do was ask. You know I’d let you fuck me again.” Raymond shook his head and the right side of his upper curled in a wicked smirk, “Yeah, it ain’t me man that will be breaking that pussy open.” I stumbled up the steps, Raymond reached past me and turned the knob, we entered a dimly lit kitchen right out of the 1980s filled with yellows, avocado greens, and dark browns. I was left standing in the middle of the kitchen floor as Raymond walked over to the hallway and peered up through the stair opening towards the second floor and hollered, “POPS - YO POPS - YOU UP NICCA? POPS! I KNOW YOU AWAKE AND BAKIN - CAN SMELL THAT JAMAICAN SHIT - COME ON DOWN AND LOOK WHAT I BROUGHT YOU.” While we waited, I heard thuds and sounds from upstairs. Raymond leaned against the counter, lit a half-smoked joint that was in an ashtray, and looked at me with a smile. “Look man,” I said, “I just want to go home. We cool?” Fucking rent-a-cop on a power trip - God damn it! Raymond walked over, fished the baggy out of my pants, pulled a plate down from the cupboard, expertly cut up several lines, then held the plate under my nose with his left hand while pinching a nostril with his right so I could snort up. Fuck that shit burned! I knew I had meth around my nostrils and was ready to ask him to wipe it off or shove it in when the light in the front hallway dimmed, a baritone voice growled and muttered, and the tangy, sweet smell of Jamaican weed hit my nostrils. I turned and gaped as a Minotaur from ancient legends stepped into the room. Tall, black, muscled with tattoos that covered his right arm, ran up the right side of his neck, and looped down to encircle a large animal paw print with extended claws on his right pec. However, his left side was totally free of ink - giving him a sideways/off balanced look. The joint between his lips glowed as he inhaled, making me look at his face. He had on a do-rag skullcap that appeared to be covering his tightly braided hair as some of the braids looped around from the nape of his neck and fell neatly under his chin. I followed his left hand as he removed the joint from his lips, set it in the vacant spot in the ashtray, then reached down and rolled about 3 inches of foreskin back from the head of his bull dick, exposing a bright pick tip that was dripping nectar of the gods. Raymond walked over to him, leaned in, whispered, waved his hand around a bit, whispered, as the BBC bull eyed me. Raymond then headed to the stairs and yelled back, “I’M TAKING THE CHARGER POPS. YOU GOT THIS?” Pops stepped closer to me, his bare feet leaving sweaty, moist marks on the linoleum floor. He eyed me up and down and said, “WELCOME TO FOOT LONG FRIDAYS.” Stay Tuned for Part 3 - THY KING-DOM CUM (*From the author: If you like the story let me know - post a reply or give a reputation. Thanks to everyone who takes the time to read these stories and for the continued support!)

“DOES THAT RAW DICK FEEL GOOD BOY? IS THAT WHAT YOU NEEDED?” The bottom had tried crawling forward, his body reacting to the infectious AIDS T-Bone I had just shoved in his booty hole - dry. He didn’t get far. His doggy masked head shook from side to side as his manicured pink nails - hidden inside his puppy costumed paws - tried to hold their grip on the edge of the bed. “GET BACK HERE BOY! STAY!” I snarled as I yanked my dick out of his rare hole, grabbed his wrists, dragged him back to where I wanted, and then mounted him again. My POZ drip mixing with his bloody hole was all the lube the pup needed. The pup’s dog tags jangled and jingled. “FEEL THAT BIG DICK KNOTTING YOU BOY?” He might have said something, but then arched his back and yelped like a good pup when I yanked out and slammed back in. I yanked out again, took a second to admire his furry little hole - surrounded by a touch of pink, now red, skin. His hole was the only thing on his body not covered by his pup costume, which was just fine by me. All I needed was someplace to bury my AIDS T-BONE. “BIG AIDS DICK IN THAT ASS BOY - FUCKING YOUR PUPPY HOLE!” The boy bucked, I laughed, grabbed the back of his collar, slid the fingers of both hands underneath and twisted and pulled back. The pup bucked and yelped and my AIDS T-BONE buried a little deeper. “I GOT A SHIT LOAD OF HOT AIDS GRAVY FOR THAT PUP HOLE BOY - FULL OF VIRUS KIBBLES AND BITS!” His little paws were useless. I turned my head to the left and admired myself in the full length mirrors he had on the wall. The small lenses of his two video cameras were not easy to detect, but I made sure they got the shots. I hope he enjoyed watching this later. I hope he enjoyed seeing my wasted body, the skin that hung slightly off my muscles, the ribs that showed in my chest, my hollowed out cheeks and lesioned skin. “THAT’S IT - WHIMPER FOR ME PUP. MY AIDS T-BONE DICK IS FILLING THAT ASS UP - TURNING YOU INTO A FULL FLEDGED BITCH!” The pup gurgled his agreement as I twisted the collar tighter and started to long dick that ass with deeper, filling, stretching and wrecking strokes! I had been eyeing the pup online for a while now. I knew his habits, his secret desires, his voyeuristic pleasures. I knew he liked to secretly record and live stream anonymous dick fucking him. I knew he always insisted on safe sex only - something which he was not only vocal about, but condescending to those who held a different approach to life. “I’M YOUR AIDS SIRE PUP! UNMEDICATED DADDY DOG DICK SLICKING UP YOUR LITTLE HOLE - BUSTING IT OPEN WITH MY BIG KNOT - THAT FORESKIN SLIDING BACK, GETTING READY FOR MY POZ NUTT TO SPADE AND FIX YOU!” A loud, clear, yelp escaped the pup’s lips as I tore open a new path of destruction in his guts. I pressed down on his shoulder blades with my left hand, turned my body clockwise with my dick still buried deep in his furry ass. We formed an AIDs’ cross, ready for his crucifixion. I took my right hand and pushed his right leg outward so his hips raised up a bit, giving me head on access to his sidewalls. “YEAH BOY, PLAYING FETCH. TAKING MY AIDS T-BONE SMACK IN THEM ASS WALLS. OPENING THAT FURRY HOLE SO WHEN MY BALLS MAKE YOU PREGNANT THERE WILL BE LOTS OF BRUISED AND BLOODY SPOTS FOR THEM BABIES TO HOOK UP TO!” The pup’s hole was smearing my dick good now, creaming for my AIDS T-BONE. I yanked out, the pup’s body spasmed from the sudden evacuation, and I easily rotated my position. I used my right hand now to press down between his shoulders keeping his body on the bed and adjusted his left leg and held it so I could damage the other side of his ass walls. The pup’s whimpering told me he was hungry. “GOOD PUP READY TO SUCKLE SOME POZ MILK OUT? GET THAT ASS BACK HERE - THAT’S IT - RIGHT ON THE END OF THE BED AND DROP THEM LITTLE HIND LEGS DOWN. I’M GOING TO DRIVE MY AIDS T-BONE RIGHT UP THAT HOLE AND SQUIRT MY VIRAL MILK! GOOD PUP - TAKE THIS AIDS T-BONE! FEEL IT PUP? FEEL THAT KNOT SWELL? YEAH WHIMPER FOR ME LIKE A GOOD PUPPY - WHIMPER FOR ME AS YOUR SIRE BREEDS YOU - BEG FOR MY POZ MILK! BEG FOR IT PUP - BEG FOR IT - FILLING YOUR PUP ASS UP YOU FUCKING BITCH! FILLING YOU UP!” A couple of hours later I got up my nap. Filling a NEG hole up is always the best thing to get me set for a long nap out in hammock in the afternoon sun. I wiped the sweat from my brow, adjusted my eyes, and pulled up the pup’s homepage. Fuck yeah! Folks had liked our scene and had rated it five WOOFS! Lots of comments about ‘what a great set up’, ‘hot role play’, the ‘realistic fake fluids’. I’d give pup a couple days. He’ll come scratching at my door begging to be let in and when he does, I’ll be ready. (*From the author: If you like the story let me know - post a reply or give a reputation. Thanks to everyone who takes the time to read these stories and for the continued support!)

PART 4: I had not even been in DC for a week and here I was ready to be a gangbang-train run-slut whore-raw bottom for any dick that paid $20 at the city’s biggest sex party. If my friends could only see me now - HA! Garrett - my new landlord/employer/fuck buddy led me to the warehouse/parking garage he owned where the sex party was going to be. We stopped in an alley between the warehouse and a few apartment buildings that faced Rhode Island Ave. He leered at me, held out a brown bottle of coke, had me sniff up, then asked, “WANT A QUICK LOAD UP THAT ASS BEFORE WE GO IN? BEFORE YOU BECOME THE QUEEN - APOLOGIES - THE KING OF SPEED BREEDING? IS THAT ASS READY?” Garrett’s ugly troll dick spewed thick sludge like a sewer pipe and I was tempted to ask if I could stay there in the alley to get fucked, but sighed when he insisted we go on in. The place seemed deserted, but as we walked towards the front, I saw people setting things up - running wires, stocking basic bars, dumping bags of ice into chests full of cans of beer, and more. Garrett explained as he gave me the grand tour, “These parties started out small. Some little basement up off Florida Ave, but after I bought this place, I offered to go in as a partner with the guy who does most of the organizing, and it didn’t take long to literally blow up. This is a warehouse/old parking garage, so lot’s of great spaces to use. We get all the DC queens, but guys come in from Virginia, down from Maryland and Baltimore, fuck we even have some die hards from Philly who come spend the weekend. There’s music, drinks, places to sit and chill and smoke or snort like that area with the couches - and this bed - one of my prize finds - gets a lot of action, but most of it is for show. You get a few die-hard sex hounds who enjoy fucking in front of everyone. Just like that tub over there by the bathroom - that’s for the piss pigs. This is the one night you can find the leather men from the Eagle, the sweater queens from JR’s, the dance queens from Southwest, the street trade from the Fire Place, the sleazy boys from the Green Lantern, all mingling in one place.” A few of the men setting up paused to look at us as we walked by. A couple smiled in a way I would come to learn meant they wanted some raw ass and were down for anything quick and dirty. Garrett clearly knew everyone, but was focused on the tour. I was impressed, even more so when he said, “I clear more money just from the door charge than most of the bars in Dupont do in two weeks. Add in the drinks and other ‘extras’ and that’s another four weeks easy.” I tried to quickly run the numbers in my head and while I did not know what total sales were for all those bars, I knew about what Garrett pulled in at the one where I met him where he was majority owner - damn! We walked up a ramp to an area where there was basically nothing and Garrett explained, “This is the ‘back room’. No lights get turned on up here. There’s a little ambient light from those top windows, but barely enough to see your hand in front of your face. For those guys who can’t loosen up to play around down below, they eventually find their way up here. I know more than one sweater queen who got more than he bargained for when he wandered into the wrong group of guys fresh from the Eagle up here.” I asked if he was worried about the cops raiding the place or anyone getting seriously hurt. “No, not really,” Garrett said. “I know all the cops around here and several of them will work security for the party when they are off duty. I also have a few other guys who wander around, keeping an eye on things, and if on the rare chance someone doesn’t like what is happening fuck this place is crawling with people so easy enough to step away.” My mouth must have been hanging open as I stared around at the ‘back room’, the stains on the floor, imaging all the cum and man sweat that would be shot in here soon. Then I asked, “If you have all this, then why would anyone pay for Speed Breeding? I mean, it sounds like there is plenty of ass here if people want it.” Garrett handed me the bottle of cocaine as he lit a cigarette and shook head, “Yeah, of course. But like I said, a lot of what happens is just looking, touching, a quick suck here and there. People come for the ‘possibility’ of the taboo - few actually have the balls to jump into the deep end. That’s why I have Speed Breeding. True, it’s a little extra cash, but for a lot of guys, all the drinking, teasing, and stimuli would leave them so frustrated they would never come back so I make sure they can get a release. Speaking of - get on your knees and suck my dick while I finish my smoke.” I was slobbering his dick, jacking mine, silently begging for him to shoot in my mouth. He flicked his cigarette butt against the wall, stepped back, I asked, “Can you cum?” He laughed and said, “Not yet. But I will - maybe. You know there’s going to lots of pretty young ass prancing around here tonight and I do so enjoy corrupting the innocent.” Back down on the main level we worked our way through the various areas being set up to the other end of the warehouse/parking garage. Garrett pointed back the way we had come, “Down at the end closer to 15th Street is where cars would enter and that side door is where everyone comes in. Always good to have a line out front as no one wants to go in someplace that’s dead. I also will have porn playing down there just off to the side so that as people come in they hear the sounds of sex. Make them think there is a lot going on. I first tried having the VIP area down there and the Speed Breeding, but works out better this way. Just up there - the end closer to the 14th Street - is the EXIT. This is the VIP area …” Garrett held the door open to what appeared to a couple of old offices. The windows had been covered with black paint. It was very dim and already smoky as the guys doing the set up were all smoking. The guys were all eye candy too and seemed to represent the various groups from a guy in chaps to a preppy guy and more. Through the next room was a door that led into a hall and on each side of the hall was another office. The windows facing into the hall had been painted black. There was a small bed in each room, stacks of paper towel rolls, a garbage can, a small ice chest, a chair, a small TV playing porn with a stack of porn videos beside it, an ashtray, a mirror for cocaine and a few straws, poppers, an assortment of bottles of lube - but clearly absent - no condoms. What I assumed was a closet was actually a toilet and hand basin. “These are the Speed Breeding rooms,” Garrett explained. “While folks may want sleazy, for $20 they expect more than a corner with a shower curtain hung up in front. The process is simple. I have a guy who sits at the hall door at the front there. He collects the money and the men walk into whatever room is free. There is no choosing - they get whatever ass is available - yours or C.O.’s boy. When you shut the door, there is a red bulb that turns on in the hallway and in the room and a timer starts. They get 5 minutes. When the timer runs out both lights go off. My guys will give them a few seconds to get dressed, but then they will open the door if the have to and send them on their way. They can do whatever they want for that 5 minutes - have you tell them a nursery rhyme for all I care, but the goal is to get them to have fun and let loose - literally.” I nodded, understanding. Garrett reminded me, “Remember it’s all about the taboo, the risk. Some guys may want it totally dark - some may want you to suck them first - but 5 minutes goes by awful fast. See that lit box under the red bulb? That’s an old flip timer my electrical guy installed in both rooms - got it from a bank or something. It will count down from 5 minutes so you can keep an eye on the time and speed things along if you need to. Here - let me show you.” Garrett closed the door, the red bulb went on casting a devilish glow, and the timer started to count down from 5:00 with a CLICK as the metallic number tabs turned and the gears whirred; 4:59 CLICK; 4:48 CLICK; 4:57 - fuck that was going to get annoying. Garrett pointed at the timer, “5 minutes to get your ass loaded. Most of the guys will blow in 30 seconds, but if you feel like a guy is not there, ease off, wait out the timer, tell him to circle back around and you will be happy to given him another 5 minutes - for another $20 of course. Be that naked, hungry cum dump I know you are and work those fucking dicks and get their loads. A few rules: If you need to let any of it out, use the toilet there but tell my guys you need a minute, leave the door open and make it quick; Same if you need to snort some lines, drink, or whatever; Don’t drink anything unless it’s from a can you opened and don’t let it sit around so no one slips anything into it - same with the cocaine; There’s a box by the door for TIPS right by the chair and whatever gets put in there is extra and for you only; See the walls here? They only go up to 7-feet so everything that goes on in here can be heard in the main VIP room - faintly - but it can be heard - so the sounds of fucking will get you more dick for sure; The first few hours may be a little slow but things will really start picking up by midnight and then it gets balls crazy from there until 4:00 AM when we have to ‘technically’ close; Don’t leave the room. I need you boys here the whole time; I will have a guy at the other end of the hall so when the men are done fucking, he guides them out that way as the next ones come in the front. They can leave if they want, or come back, or go back to the main event. With your ass I expect you will have a few repeats as I always get a couple perverts - like myself - that hits its early and then again later; and Finally, if you feel for any reason that something’s not right like the guy is too drunk, or gets rough - not play rough, but you know like want to hurt you rough, or anything at all you just holler and both my guys will be in here in seconds. The doors don’t lock. “Give me your keys to the house and anything else you got on you. OK, Any questions?” Garrett asked as he lit a cigarette and absently stroked his bulging troll dick through his pants. I stepped to the door, pulled it open slightly, the red light shut off, the timer whirred and clicked back to 5:00, I shut the door firmly, the red light came back on, CLICK, the timer started. I stepped over to Garrett, unzipped his pants, and started sucking his dick like my life depended on it. “OH JESUS,” he said as he guided my head with his left hand while holding his cigarette in his right. I had not swallowed his cum before and I wanted to taste it - to taste that dirty semen and to have his cum coating my throat for the rest of the night. “SWALLOW THAT FUCKING LOAD - SWALLOW IT ALL - GET EVERY DIRTY DROP - OH CHRIST!” Garrett proclaimed. A few more contractions of my mouth and I eased back, stood up, wiped the spittle and dick juice from the corners of my mouth, looked at the timer - 2:15 - then to Garrett and asked, “Feel better?” He just shook his head, sighed as he stuffed his dick back in his pants, “Ah the eagerness of youth,” he said as if that explained everything. His load was ashy, earthy, sour, and thick and I told myself I wanted more of that sometime too, but now time for business. I followed Garrett as he completed one last walk around. There was just under an hour before they would open the doors and start letting guys in. He introduced me to the host of the event, several of the guys who worked there, and then about 30 minutes out C.O.’s boy Kip showed up. There was just something about Kip. We didn’t click the first time I met him and not then either. I did smile though knowing I had pleased his pimp, C.O., and thinking about the BBC gangbang C.O. had taken me to and then him fucking me in Garrett’s backyard made me horny as hell and raring to go. I stepped away from the group, turned into a corner, did a huge snort out of the brown bottle and told Garrett I was going to go get ready. The music had cranked up, voices were louder, sounds of a party wound and weaved through the warehouse/parking garage to where I was near the VIP section. The big guy sitting out front collecting the $20 fee didn’t give me his name, but seemed nice enough, told me he would take care of me, and I could not help but eye the bulge in his crotch. The guy who sat at the back end looked like C.O. at first - rough, street looking dude - and in the dim light I could see he was tall, stocky, and the small glare from his smoke showed a full beard. As I approached he got off his stool, towering over me, set his cigarette in an ashtray placed on another stool beside him and said, “May I help you?” He then looked up the hall to the front and I turned and saw Kip leaning out of his room who then yelped and ducked back in. “I just wanted to introduce myself,” I said, “I’m helping Garrett out and….” He didn’t take my offered hand and just noted, “I know who you are.” I turned to go, paused, then sort of stumbled back a step right into the man. I innocently turned my head as I slid my shorts down and quietly said, “No one’s around yet. You want to fuck me?” OK, I am usually not - OK, I am NEVER, that bold, but between the cocaine, the nutt in my ass from earlier, the taste of Garrett’s second load in my mouth, the anticipation of what was to come, I needed my hole poked. His calloused black hand came around my throat, pulled me tight against his body, his denim jeans doing nothing to hide the steel pipe shaft snaking down his right thigh, “YOU TEASING THE WRONG MAN BOY,” he growled, “I ONLY FUCK WHEN I KNOW IT’S ALL GOING IN - EVERY INCH - ASS OR PUSSY - EITHER ONE AND IF THAT MEANS MAKING THAT SHIT BLEED AND TEARING YOU OPEN TO GET IT, I WILL. I AIN’T PLAYIN. I TAKE WHAT’S MINE. ANOTHER TIME, ANOTHER PLACE, YOU’D BE SCREAMING YOUR REGRETS RIGHT NOW. BUT MY MAN’S BEEN GOOD TO ME AND MINE SO I’M NOT FUCKING WITH HIS SHIT. TONIGHT’S HIS BUSINESS AND YOU NEED TO DO YOUR PART AND I’LL DO MINE.” With a grunt he released me, sat back down on the stool, picked up his smoke, and smiled at me through the haze. I boldly reached out and ran my fingers up and down the dark outlines of his manhood and said, “Don’t worry. I’ll handle my business. But when the party’s over, I may need someone to walk me home.” With that invite hanging - along with his ginormous BBC - I went down the hall to my Speed Breeding room, got naked, sat on the bed, snorted a few lines of cocaine, jacked my dick, put some porn on and waited for my first John. I was lost in a movie when the light grew dimmer, the door closed, the red bulb turned on and the timer started - CLICK. The man was short, balding, paunchy, had on glasses, and leered at me with a snaggle toothed smile. I smiled back. I stood up, bent over the bed, and he said, “Oh no, no no. Kiss me.” What? I turned and looked at him. His physical looks didn’t really bother me - hell as a bottom the ‘ugliest’ tops were some of the best fucks - but this guy was effeminate too. It took me a second to remember the saying the guys in Texas used to blurt, “HE OPENED HIS MOUTH AND A STRING OF PEARLS FELL OUT!” or some shit like that. I just was not into fem guys. Clearly I had discovered I had few limits, and a broad range of men I would let fuck me, but this? This was too much. CLICK - the fucking timer. I looked at him, the mirror full of coke, snorted some lines, stood up, and leaned down and kissed the little man as he touched my dick. I had to be the aggressor and slid my tongue between his small, dry cracked lips. He moaned - CLICK. I reached down to touch his dick, “No, no, no. Kiss me.” OK, whatever. Back to his mouth - CLICK. My tongue darted in his mouth. I reached up and held his head - CLICK. I flicked my tongue side to side and up and down - CLICK. He moaned. I added some spit - CLICK. I explored his teeth - CLICK. He pulled back and shook, shivered, and had a small convulsion. Fuck was he having a heart attack? A dark stain appeared on the front of his Khakis. Damn - he just blew his load! The man turned, yanked the door open, and scurried down the hall like a rabbit with a fox on its tail. The big black man - fuck I still didn’t know his name, calmly pushed the EXIT door open, the small man hurried through, then the door was shut. I waved for the black guy to come to the room as I furtively looked to the front and saw the guy who took the cash but no one else waiting. “What the fuck was that?” I asked. The black guy looked at my white skin, reached out and circled my pink nipple as he licked his lips. He smiled. I crossed my hands over my chest and said, “What? Now you want to fuck me?” He just shook his head and went back to his post. I snorted some more coke and waited. The door to my room was slightly further down the hall than Kip’s. I heard his door open, a man walk by who looked at me and smiled as he slicked his hair back and left. Kip’s door closed. OK, tonight was not off to a great start. I didn’t have to wait long for my first load: The next guy that came in was a little drunk for sure, but had a nice, thick uncut dick and like Garrett predicted, he cummed in my ass within about a minute of sticking it in. I had barely lubed my hole up before he got behind me, shoved, pumped, and spurted. A few more guys came through, each much like the last, nothing special to remember except hot nutt in my ass and not one of them asked about safe sex, or a condom, or status. The next guy though - fuck I had to stop and sort several lines of cocaine just to deal with him. Fucking high maintenance. He wanted more light, less light, not that video, did I have condoms, how many loads had I taken? What was my status? Did I know the importance of safe sex? I barely saw his dick before the timer stopped - thank God. When he left I motioned to the guy taking the money and told him, “I will not deal with that asshole again.” That’s all I had to say. More coke, more raw dick, more cum. The music seemed louder, the voices sharper, the shadows darker - damn I was fucked up. Sad though as I barely felt the fucks. I mean nothing against the guys at all, all seemed like nice dicks, but nothing so special that it cut through the high, made my ass ache after, or made me wish I was theirs to take home. That all changed when he walked in. HOLY SHIT! WHAT WAS HE DOING HERE? I had just finished using the closet toilet and wiped the man spooge out of my crack when I sat back on the bed, snorted some lines, and looked up. He walked in, shut the door, unbuttoned his pants and with them around his ankles turned around and stopped - it was one of my friends. One of the guys I had stayed with when I first came to DC. His eyes got wide - he mumbled and fumbled trying to pull his pants up. I stepped over to him, he stood up, I grabbed his dick and stroked and asked, “You trying to fuck or what?” So the backstory recap on why this was weird: The guy who just walked in - I will call him Mr. M - he and I were bar friends, pool table buddies. Nice guy. Big executive in a multinational company, but married and just ‘coming out’. Sort of. Mr. L - who would become his lover - was someone we all met the same night at the bar. He was new to the neighborhood, we asked him to play pool with us, he and Mr. M spent the night together and the rest was wedded bliss. Well things got weird when Mr. M asked me to let Mr. L have one of the spare rooms at my house. He was living in a bad place, had to get out ASAP. Sure, no problem. Well when Mr. L moved in we became friends, sort of best friends I thought. Mr. M seemed a little jealous at times and even once accused me (while at the bar drunk) of sleeping with his new lover Mr. L - which never happened. We were friends. Not my type. I was helping someone out in need, blah blah blah. Anyways, things were just always a little weird after that. Mr. M and Mr. L became a hot power couple, moved to DC, we kept in touch, when my life went to hell they invited me to stay with them but Mr. M always still seemed a little surly. Now here I was, buck-naked and Mr. M had his dick hanging out. They always said they were monogamous, but fuck - I didn’t give a shit. If he was here, he wanted to fuck. I spit in my hand, pressed Mr. M against the wall as I pushed back on his dick and rode his shaft for all I was worth. It took me close to 4 minutes, but he cummed in my ass then quickly wiped his dick off and left. HA! I watched Mr. M practically run out the back door. The black guy at the back looked at me - I looked up front and no one was watching - I stepped into the hall, bent over and spread my cheeks so he could see the fresh load of cum coating my ass pussy. I smiled and walked back into the room, his low growl echoing over the music and sounds of the party. The next few hours were a bit of a blur - too much cocaine. There was a guy who I thought must have been homeless from his stink but he had a huge dick that stretched me good, so I was happy. A couple jock Daddy types who seemed to enjoy fucking rough. Another dude who insisted I find a condom and finally I flung the door open and shoved him into the hall - end of that. Overall the night was OK - not great - but OK. Frankly I had a much better time at the BBC gangbang a few nights prior. Those men were ALL well hung. They fucked with no strings, no drama, and all they wanted was a raw hole to cum in. Drugs, drink, smoke, all on deck along with balls to the wall hardcore fucking. The VIPs at this sex party were just a bit too tame and vanilla for my tastes. Yeah I looked the vanilla part, and could play a JR’s ‘sweater queen’ on TV, but inside I was more of an Eagle slut, or BBC hood slut. I heard there was a bar called Bachelor’s Mill where the BBC went, but the BBC there were only into black holes – not pink ones. Sigh! Garrett was in the tiny doorway of the closet toilet. He handed me a wad of bills and smiled, “From your TIP box,” he said. I blushed, took the cash, not sure exactly where to put it so handed it back to him and said, “Can you…..” Another voice interrupted us as a black hand snatched the cash, took the keys to my apartment Garrett was holding, and as Garrett stepped back, smiling like the twisted fucker he was, the black guy I had teased earlier filled the doorway and said, “HIS PARTY IS OVER. MINE IS JUST BEGINNING. YOU READY FOR SOME BBC SLOW, DEEP, ROUGH BREEDING? NONE OF THIS SPEEDY SHIT - I PLAN TO TAKE MY TIME OPENING THAT ASS PUSSY UP AND FILLING YOU WITH NICCA NUTT” (*From the author: If you like the story let me know - post a reply or give a reputation. Thanks to everyone who takes the time to read these stories and for the continued support!)

Part 5: Hawk gave a wild sweep of his arm, “GET THEM ALL IN HERE. EVERY FUCKING ONE. I DON’T CARE IF THEY SWING THAT WAY OR NOT. I EXPECT EVERY GOD DAMN DICK WITHIN A MILE OF THIS PLACE TO FUCK MR. DEA AGENT HERE. DRUG HIM UP AS MUCH AS YOU WANT. DO WHATEVER THE FUCK YOU WANT. SOMEONE NEEDS TO PAY FOR THIS FUCK UP SO UNLESS ONE OF YOU IS GOING TO STEP FORWARD, THEN IT’S HIM.” My punishment was fast, swift, painful, and complete as one after another of Hawk’s drug crew were escorted into the small room and ordered to mount and breed me. A couple of them did stuff my ass with big meth shards, but not for my enjoyment, it was because they knew the shards would cut and scrape and strip away my gut lining as they were pushed around in my hole by all the dick. The high helped - a little - but what helped more was knowing I had hurt Hawk. He was the biggest meth cooker and dealer in the region and because of his Aryan DNA believed himself to be superior to everyone else. Well that, his huge dick, and his armed men. He suspected, but could not prove, that I had something to do with Chris being picked up. I did. A few years back a buddy of mine who works for another government agency, one far more secretive and into far more shit than the DEA, installed a software program on my phone. While the program appeared to the casual observer to be one of those popular games everyone played, there was a secret level to it that once opened, allowed me to track Chris and whatever phone he was using based on his number. Chris had a long history of drugging out and falling off the deep end and I had to find some way of tracking him down. This program had lots of additional bells and whistles - his phone could be turned on remotely, turned into a recording device of conversations or even other phones around it by creating a small hot-spot. So, between Chris’s phone, and those he was around, I was able to quickly find him, or at least those he had been with recently. The info was uploaded into a secret email account in the cloud as sort of a buffer. It was never real time, but close enough. Hawk and his men would find nothing on my phone. The Assistant D.A. McLeod on the other hand I suspected would have found a great deal that was of interest. Some time later as I laid on the floor covered in the filth of multiple men, shivering from the meth and the shock of abuse to my body, Hawk stomped back in. “Well agent,” he said, far more calmly than he was, “Your phone showed me nothing, although I must admit I was surprised in your taste of music - and porn. Your little friend has now become a risk to me, to this operation, to those I work for. Come with me. We’re shifting operations to a new facility he is not aware of.” I was shoved into the back of an unmarked van still naked except for the tattered remnants of my DEA windbreaker. Hawk slammed me down onto the uneven floor, slid his dick inside my cum filled ass and began pumping me as the van rocked side to side as we turned and drove away. “Head south first,” Hawk instructed one of the armed men sitting against the van wall, “I want Mr. DEA Agent here to know what a true AIDs dump he is when I fill him with another load while we are parked in front of his office building.” Hawk dismissed any feedback about that being unwise and proceeded to fuck me harder, to try to punish me for what he still believed I did. “Since we’re going to be in the neighborhood, why don’t you let me out so I can get back to work? I thought the whole idea was for me to be an asset in the office - not just some fuck toy.” That got me a hard knock to the mouth, a renewed taste of iron as my cut lip opened again, “YOU WILL DO WHAT I SAY, WHEN I SAY. RIGHT NOW - YOU ARE GOING TO MILK A FEW LOADS OUT OF ME. I KNOW EVERY THRUST OF MY SUPERIOR DICK PAINS YOU. I CAN FEEL YOUR BODY TENSE, YOUR MUSCLES QUIVER. YOU CAN FIGHT IT AGENT, BUT IN THE END, I WILL BREAK YOU AND TURN YOU INTO JUST A DEFLATED AIDS BAG. AND OH YES, WHEN WE HAD YOUR PHONE WE USED IT TO CALL YOUR OFFICE AND MY MAN ON THE INSIDE CONFIRMED THE CALL. FAMILY EMERGENCY AND ALL THAT, SO YOU WON’T BE IN TODAY. WE’RE THERE? GOOD. I’M READY TO INFECT YOUR ASS AGAIN AGENT!” Hawk rolled off me, the van pulled away, and I inched closer to the far wall. The two masked guards opposite me were two of the ones who had tortured me earlier. I could see their eyes and I knew somewhere deep down they realized they were marked. Voices rose from the front, the men shifted nervously, Hawk crab walked up to the front seats and shook his head vigorously back and forth and hit the back of the seat with his fist. He turned and glared at me. I wanted to smile, but remained expressionless. The van pulled to the side. Hawk came back, stood over me, raised his fist back and trembled in rage. I stayed still. He then exhaled, lowered his fist, and said, “It appears that my backup lab was just raided by a multi-agency team and a number of my men arrested.” I piled on, “Wouldn’t that be the sort of thing that you would think your ‘people’ inside the DEA, local police, and others would have given you a heads up on?” Hawk growled. I continued, “I could have warned you if I had been at work like I was supposed to be and not here being some fucking chew toy for your pack of dogs. Clearly this is bigger than Chris - or me. I have never been to this other place right? You said Chris had not either so that means you must have a mole. Someone who has been on your team for a while has sold you out.” I looked to the masked men on the other side of the van with a clear, questioning look, then to the two men up front and stated again to Hawk, “Someone sold you out.” Hawk’s head whipped to the side, the front, and back. His eyes narrowed. He calculated loss, risk, safety, and the many forks in the road before him all within seconds. Hawk edged over between the two masked men, placed his left hand on the shoulder of one, his right on the shoulder of the other, leaned in and spoke in a low voice. The two masked guards moved with practiced stealth and grace in a dance of death. Before they could react, the two members of Hawk’s drug gang that had been sitting in the front seats were pulled into the back and any threat they may have posed removed. One of the masked men eased into the driver’s seat, rolled his mask up onto his forehead, and put the van into drive. Hawk looked at his former colleagues, “All threats must be eliminated until I get this under control.” The van rolled over a familiar bump; I was hustled out the side door, up the steps, and into my kitchen. Hawk strolled in and looked around, “For now, we will stay here. What better place to hold out until things settle than a DEA agent’s house, right?” The masked guards did a quick check of the place, confirmed no one else was there, and emptied the chamber of a back up revolver they found in my dresser. Hawk sat at my table like he was king shit. He dumped out two bags of his meth - the Aryan Eagle black and menacing - then proceeded to chop it up. “Come agent. Let’s enjoy ourselves shall we. You and I do not need to be enemies. Frankly I see us as friends who are just - shall we say - getting to know each other. I know you Agent - I know your ass - I know you claim to be a top but when I am inside you and getting ready to spill my toxic seed your hole clenches tight, milking me like a Bavarian maid.” The hours passed. The guards were on high alert, Hawk was on the phone making call after call, trying to get control of a situation that clearly was spinning wild. One of the guards had left to get rid of the van – and the bodies - and when he returned, he had brought with him a large duffle bag that contained a number of bug-out supplies including an entire box of dozens of SIM cards. After every call Hawk switched out the cards and one of the guards would destroy the one just used. Clearly no one was going to track him that way. “Mind if I make some iced tea?” I asked. Hawk shrugged, one of the guards checked the cupboard then nodded. I turned on the faucet and reached over and twisted the little wand on the mini-blinds over the sink. The blinds did not open all the way, but they were open enough - I hoped it was enough. Hawk was calmer and high and still had a trace of meth around his right nostril. He took his shirt off, rubbed his hands over his chest and torso, outlining his tattoos, and admiring his muscled Aryan physique. The guards continued their rounds as Hawk stripped, his massive uncut dick demanding attention being one of those freaks of nature that meth did not make go limp. “Let me just have a little more tea,” I told Hawk as he tried to push me to my knees to suck him. He grunted and stroked his dick awaiting my return. I refilled the glasses of the guards and handed it to them, then returned to the kitchen, knelt on my floor, and let Hawk pummel my throat like I knew he planned to pummel my ass. Had it been enough? Hawk ordered me to bend over the table so he could spit fuck my ass. I handed him a glass of iced tea, “Here. If you’re going to fill my ass with more cum you need to keep hydrated.” Hawk smiled, took the glass, downed about a quarter of it then as he tried aiming his dick into my hole with his other hand the glass slipped, shattered, ice tea spreading across the floor. Was it enough? The grunts and fullness of his dick inside my ass dulled the world around me. Or maybe that was the meth. I barely registered when I heard the first THUD. Hawk paused and asked, “What was that?” He was looking to the front of the house. I slid off his dick, grabbed his wrist, and pulled him down with me to the floor as I begged, “FUCK ME ON MY BACK. YOU’RE RIGHT. I NEED TO SUBMIT AND THIS WAY I CAN FEEL YOU FILL ME DEEP WITH YOUR AIDS CUM. YOU’RE MY SUPERIOR MASTER. I WANT TO SERVE YOU - CAN YOU SHOW ME HOW TO SERVE YOU? PLEASE YOU? OH BREED ME!” Any thought Hawk might have had in his head went WHOOSH and vanished. All he saw was victory. All he felt was my hands clasping at his hips to pull his raw Aryan dick deeper. All he understood was that I was his. Fucking dumb animal! Hawk’s body slumped forward, his weight pinning me to the floor, my arm unable to avoid the splinters of glass that now pierced it. A familiar voice laughed, “Well, well, well, Agent. I must say I didn’t recognize you. Usually I’m the one on my back looking up.” I exhaled then had to laugh as a muscled arm reached down and helped me sit up. Jayce. While Chris and I were best friends growing up, Jayce and I were more like best enemies. We were total opposites in everything from our build to our families. Mine was law abiding, his was the biggest street gang in the city. Yet, Jayce and I alone, together, in bed, was always a good thing and I had dumped plenty of my loads up his sweet black ass. Between my job, and his gang, we of course kept our escapades secret, but on occasion, I was able to help him and let him know when the DEA was closing in on his family’s business and now he was able to pay that all back. We had worked out a secret signal long ago - my kitchen blinds. If they were closed, I had family around or for whatever reason could not see him. If they were totally open, the coast was clear. If they were only partially open, tilted up, then there was danger. I had relied on Jayce’s street skills to figure out the rest and lucky for me - and unlucky for Hawk and his men - he did. OK, well the Rohypnol I might have spiked the iced tea with helped too. I know, I know, who keeps crushed date rape drugs in their kitchen cabinet in a sugar bowl? I was a Boy Scout and I’m a DEA agent and I was prepared. I rubbed my face. Jayce handed me a glass of water. I gulped it down, shook my head, “Thanks,” I said. Suddenly a piercing scream exploded from the next room. Jayce helped me stand, we walked in, and one of Jayce’s guys shrugged and said, “Smurfette just bit off most of his left ear.” Jayce laughed, lit a joint, nodded to the large, black/blue Pit Bull name Smurfette that was knotting Hawk’s ass as he asked, “I don’t think you need both ears to be a bitch do you?” I could only laugh. I never knew what happened to the armed guards Hawk had - the ones I vowed to take out. When I asked Jayce he just shrugged and said, “You see them assholes around anyplace? Ain’t nothing to see man. Nothing to see.” Before Jayce left, and as I watched some of the guys from his family’s gang drag Hawk’s bloodied – but still alive - body out of my house, I went over to the shreds of my DEA windbreaker and pulled out a couple packets of meth with the Aryan eagle mark and a blue shipping receipt. “Here,” I said as I handed him the meth. “When they were preparing to move I was able to figure out why his meth is so damn good. Here are some samples of his latest cook and trust me - that shit is fucking awesome! But more importantly is this. This manifest shows you the extra ingredient he used to make the shit so pure, so kick ass. It’s yours now. Someone needs to step in and become the new, biggest cook and seller in the region.” Jayce smiled, reached down and stroked my dick, then whispered, “So, when do I get to lay on my back again for you Agent?” The next week at the office was fucking crazy. Reports of gang wars, multi-agency task force take downs of the biggest meth cook in the region, connections to Colombian cartels, or maybe the Russians, every day brought some new ripple in the pond created by the small stones I had cast. I was at my desk when there was a large commotion; a TACT Team goose-stepped into the situation room surrounding my cube. The DIC (DEA Agent in Charge) walked through the melee and set a stained, cardboard box on my desk. “This was just delivered for you,” he said while shaking his head. I looked at him, then the box, lifted one flap, then the next, and next, and pulled out a typed note that was resting near the top. The note said, “I DON’T THINK YOU NEED HANDS TO BE A BITCH EITHER.” My eyes wide, I pushed my chair back, stood up, and peered down into the box. My ‘gift’ was wrapped in yesterday’s newspaper. I took a pen and eased back the ridges of paper and my breath caught - there in the box was a set of hands clasped together as if in prayer. Within the hour the lab techs would confirm what I already knew - those hands belonged to Hawk. CASE CLOSED. (*From the author: If you like the story let me know - post a reply or give a reputation. Thanks to everyone who takes the time to read these stories and for the continued support!)

PART 3 of Speed Breeding: All I knew about what was going to happen was when C.O. - a local, thug pimp who ran young twink guys on the street - dropped me off at Garrett’s house and told me, “Aiight, you’re on loan to me tomorrow. Be ready at 3:00. I’ll pick you up. I need a gangbang bitch for a group of brothas who’ll be watching the game tomorrow night. They get off on raping a faggot. They know you can’t call the cops cause they won’t give a shit and they know there’s no risk of baby mama drama. My man says you can handle it. That’s why he’s got you - and Kip - booked for Speed Breeding on Friday. You know you’re taking one of my boy’s slots right? It’s cool yo - business is business, but you got to prove to me - and Garrett - that bussy can handle ANYTHING we fucking throw at it and from what I hear, you still green and fresh to the scene.” Garrett and his two homeless BBC buddies had spent the night keeping me filled with cocaine, Garrett’s troll dick, and raw BBC. Garrett said I needed to be fully trained and prepared for Friday night’s sex party where I would be one of two featured bottoms for the VIPs in the Speed Breeding booths. I would be naked and for $20, the tops - ANY top - could fuck me raw and cum in my ass - no questions asked. This was about 20 years ago when there was no PREP, no sex sites promoting BB fucking, and when safe sex and the AIDS-scare meant that raw fucking was a totally underground, taboo activity. Thus the appeal for these men. No awkward discussions on status. No demands at the last minute to wear a condom. No concern about some bitchy queen making a scene at the bar the next time they had a drink about them not playing safe. While I had never done anything like that before, I knew I wanted to and needed to - bad! So far, anything Garrett had thrown at me I had done and taken from his homeless buddies, to the panhandler up on the corner, to Garrett breeding me raw in the bar with his ugly old troll dick minutes after I met him. OK, so I was high on cocaine - coke - for most of it. But fuck it. Time to live a little. I had recently tested POZ and again - 20 years ago - that meant I probably had on a couple of good years left if that. I planned to go out in a blaze of glory and fucking enjoy life for once. Garrett had broken off from the triple tag play twice during the evening as his regular sweater queen butt buddies showed up apparently needing some troll dick too. Garrett laughed when he came back downstairs to my new basement apartment in his townhouse and slid right back up my ass, “You ever taken a dick right after it’s been up someone else’s ass?” he asked, “Wait until Speed Breeding, that’ll be the least freakiest part of it. Much of the ‘sex’ party is mostly posers walking around with a little grabbing, stroking, and sucking. It’s mostly watching and the tease of real sex. A few guys fuck in the corners for sure, but most folks are still too up tight to go all out so that’s where the Speed Breeding comes in. I need to ensure my guests don’t leave with blue balls.” I awoke sometime Wednesday morning much like the morning before in the midst of a tangle of homeless BBC man flesh and like the pig I was becoming reached back and guided a bruiser shaft into my ass. “Fucking cunt,” my guest said as he slid in my ass and began pumping, which awoke his buddy and soon two more loads were inside me. While they took turns using the shower and bathroom and gathering their shit up, I snorted a few lines of coke off a plate Garrett had left and tip toed up the stairs, pausing at the door to the first floor in case Garrett had company. I peeked around the kitchen and saw it was just him. Yeah the morning light only made his haggard, troll features more pronounced but as a thank you I calmly walked in, he turned, and I presented my cummy hole for inspection. “God damn,” Garrett said as he slid in me, BBC nutt sprinkling the linoleum beneath our feet, “You trying to wear my dick down to a nub? I literally cannot bust a load now no matter how much I try. Here, have some coffee. But, with the party on Friday you need to just do liquids for the next two days. No food. It’s important that you are ‘clean’ during the party if you know what I mean. While a cummy hole is one thing….” I smiled, “No worries. I understand. I’m not hungry anyways.” Garrett laughed, slid out of my hole, and as I kneeled and licked his shaft clean he sighed. Once done he handed me a fresh plate, “Good thing I got enough coke to kill an elephant. Fuck - for a newbie you can put that shit down and have a tolerance that most men would envy - and an ass too.” Well I was up, wired, and with our guests gone I followed Garrett up to the third floor of his town house, which served as his extended office. It looked like it had originally been a couple of bedrooms, but he had opened the walls, and the room was filled with boxes, shelves, papers, and God knew what. He adjusted his dick in his boxers as he sat at an old, oak desk, his coffee cup making a fresh ring of moisture on the wood, “As you can see. I told you I need the help.” Thanks to the plentiful cocaine, time flew and while I’m not sure we really did much that first day, it did make me realize there was clearly much more to Garrett than what one might initially see - both as a person and a business man. A deep voice bellowed from downstairs, “WHERE THE FUCK YOU AT MAN?” It was C.O., the pimp. Garrett looked at his watch and said, “I believe you have plans tonight? C.O. may be rough around the edges, but he will protect you, so no matter how new, scary, or whatever the situation may appear, just know he will bring you back home safe and sound.” Home. Part of me had not been sure I would ever have that again, but within a few days I had found one, and new friends. Speaking of, C.O. bellowed again and I laughed, “GET THAT FUCKING WHITE BUSSY DOWN HERE! YOU KNOW PLAYIN COY AND SHIT AIN’T HOPPIN. WHERE’S DAT WHORE? MY NICCAS WAITING ON THAT TWEAKER ASS BUT FIRST I NEED ME A TASTE SO I CAN PUNISH SOME GUTS! I GOTZ SOME MILK FOR THEM TASTEE-OS, DOES A BOOTY GOOD!” Oh yeah, I liked him! Garrett stayed in his office as I went downstairs to greet our guest. C.O. was standing on the lower landing, looking up, and seemed to enjoy the peaks of flesh my running shorts created as I came down the stairs. I stopped a few steps above him so I could look him in the eye, “YOU READY TO GET SOME MANDINGO DICK ALL UP THEM GUTS?” he asked, “READY TO LET ANY NICCA THAT WANTS IT TO CLIMB UP IN THAT BUSSY AND BEAT IT DEEP?” C.O. got his answer a minute later as I lay on my back on the sheets still moist and stanking from the homeless BBC tag team and begged him to ‘fuck my white cunt’. I stuffed a few bags of coke in my short’s pocket and we as drove to meet up with his friends C.O. blew some smoke out the driver’s side window, grabbed the bulge in his pants and said, “WHEN WE GET IN THE JOINT I WANT YOU TO KEEP YOUR MOUTH SHUT. I’LL SET YOU UP IN THE FRONT ROOM. IF A NICCA SLAPS YOU - SAY THANK YOU. IF HE SPITS ON YOU - SAY THANK YOU. IF HE PINS YOU DOWN AND RIPS THAT CUNT RAW AS HE TALKS SMACK - SAY THANK YOU - NOTHING ELSE. WHORE’S DON’T SPEAK UNLESS SPOKEN TO YOU HEAR ME? YOU UNDERSTAND? WE AIN’T PLAYIN HERE. THESE NICCAS MAY START OUT ONE OFF AND A BIT EASY BUT TRUST - AS THE GAME GOES ON, ADRENALINE PUMPS, DRUGS AND DRINK LOOSEN THE BROTHAS UP - SHIT’S GOING TO GET BUCK WILD.” Well, the night was far more that I could have ever imagined and rare that someone can honestly and truly say they were gang raped. Any resistance my ass had was broken. Any instinct to resist, push back, run, tap out, was fucked out me. It is amazing what one can endure and now when I hear tops speak about a bottom that said they couldn’t take a 8-inch dick I laugh - they have no fucking idea how to be a true bottom - a true slut - a true whore for cum and dick and even if you have to pay for the experience, it makes your future life as a bottom so fucking much better! C.O. drove me home several hours later. He double parked, eased me out of the passenger’s seat, and held me up as we walked down the driveway between the two townhouses to the back yard gate and the entrance to my basement apartment. I fumbled with the keys - my mind and body beyond my control right then. Next thing I knew I was face down in the small patch of grass in Garrett’s backyard as C.O. drove his elongated black dick into my well-used ass. “FUCKING WHORE CUNT. LOVE THAT WHITE PINK PUSSY. YOU BEST BE LEAVING YOUR DOOR UNLOCKED AT NIGHT OTHERWISE I WOULD HATE TO HAVE TO BREAK MY MAN’S SHIT UP TO GET IN AND TAKE WHAT I NEED. NOW THAT I KNOW YOU A TRUE FREAK SLUT, MAYBE WILL SEND A FEW GUYS OVER ON THE REGULAR, OFFER SOME OFF-THE-MENU SIDE SNATCH FOR THOSE CUSTOMERS WHO WANT SOMETHING A LITTLE MORE OFF THE STREET GRID.” Garrett was waiting in my apartment when I was plopped on the bed. Had he heard us in the yard? Had the neighbors? Garrett shoved a couple pills in my mouth and held up a glass to make me drink like I was an invalid and then I was out. “Drink this,” a distant voice said. Once, twice maybe? I rolled over and moaned. Jesus fuck my body was sore. I swiped a hand across my face - fuck I stank too - or it was the sheets - or all of the above. I eased to an upright position and on the small table by the bed was a pitcher of orange juice, slightly melted ice cubes in a glass, and a plate of cocaine - fat, long lines of snow white - fitting as it was an old troll/dwarf who left them for me. I tried to snort the coke first but my throat was so dry I just gagged and coughed and huffed half of it right back out. A glass of juice later I was better, and then a few lines, more juice, and I was raring to go. I got off the bed, threw on a t-shirt and shorts and slowly made my way upstairs. Garrett was not on the first floor, it was daylight out, and the clock said 2:00 p.m. There was more coke in the kitchen and I needed it. Wiping my nose I slowly took step after step up to the third floor and found Garrett behind his desk. He smiled, “And on the third day Christ arose,” he said. I squinted my eyes in question, “Ok, it’s been two days, You’re early. But still.” It was Friday? I had been out like what 30+ hours? A fucking ton of coke later and I was wired and raring to bend over for a donkey dick - literally. Garrett led me to the warehouse where the sex party was going to be. We stopped in an alley between the warehouse and a few apartment buildings that faced Rhode Island Ave. He leered at me, held out a brown bottle of coke, had me sniff up, then asked, “WANT A QUICK LOAD UP THAT ASS BEFORE WE GO IN? BEFORE YOU BECOME THE QUEEN - APOLOGIES - THE KING OF SPEED BREEDING? IS THAT ASS READY?” In response I tried to snap the finger off that he had wedged in my hole, then bent over, opened up like a summer flower, and waited for him to put his stinger in me to fill me with his nectar. Yeah, Speed Breeding was going to be fucking fun! Stay tuned for part 4. (*From the author: If you like the story let me know - post a reply or give a reputation. Thanks to everyone who takes the time to read these stories and for the continued support!)

PART 4: I gritted my teeth as Hawk’s dick punctured my rectum and a moan escaped my lips. Fucking drugs! I had to focus. He clearly liked knowing he was inflicting pain. Fine. I would let him think I was suffering as much as he wanted while I figured out a way to kill the prick. Until then, it was time to take one of the pieces off the board. I just so happened to know a dumb junkie and having him removed from the equation would ease some of the pressure on me. The challenge now was how to get Chris arrested by the local police and locked up for more than a few days without the DEA becoming involved or without it being traced back to me. Hawk grunted as he deposited his cum in my ass and when he did, the seeds of a plan took root. Once Hawk and his two Aryan goons had gotten what they needed and given me what they wanted - three raw dicks, three loads of questionable-status cum, a hole full of meth shards, and of course what I had stolen for them from the DEA evidence locker - I was ordered to get back to the DEA office to dig around for more intel for Hawk. He was vague about what intel and I asked, “You said you have other people there. Why can’t they get it?” That got me a good slap and a snarl from Hawk who said, “Like I said agent. You’re a very smart man and so far, you have done O.K. Remember what I said will happen if you don’t cooperate and that goes for asking too damn many fucking questions and not doing what I ask, when I ask. Understand?” I showered, packed something to eat, and took a minute to crush up the baggies of meth Hawk had left. Too late to come off the shit now. I had to play my part, but also be smart about it, so I tucked the baggies into the top of my sock, secure inside my boot, and figured out I could use the small pen flashlight on my key chain as a metal straw to snort it up with when it was twisted apart. I wasn’t worried about being caught. Hell even if I walked close to one of the drug sniffing dogs, every agent in the place would set off his sniffer. We were around drugs all the time. The only other thing that might catch me up would be if we did urine tests, but that process was about as regular and current as the evidence locker - so again no worries. Back at the office I tackled a pile of paperwork on my desk and tried to focus on the task at hand and not how I was going to take down those low life animals. I about pissed myself when Paulie walked by and slammed his hand on my desk then pointed at me with a ‘don’t forget to ask your mom about her macaroni salad’ smile reminder. Yeah that was the last thing I was focused on right then. Then it hit me - was Paulie the one watching me for Hawk? I looked around. It could be any of them really - or none of them. How could I be sure? I couldn’t. I just had to keep my cool, do what he asked, and figure my way out of this. The meth helped me get through the stack of files on my desk in nothing flat. I then walked over to the intake desk and picked up the folder with the latest tips and call info. We would get rotated to that desk once every couple of weeks to review and handle any anonymous tips that had come in about drug dealers, sellers, or whatever. Most of it never panned out, but sometimes it did. Today however I was looking for something I could take to Hawk. I was flipping through the stack and had found a couple of promising items when my phone buzzed. “GET HERE - NOW.” It was Hawk. This time when I approached the warehouse where Hawk and his gang cooked and packaged and distributed their meth, I was clearly expected and being watched as the steel door swung open when I was a few feet away. I was frisked by two of Hawk’s masked, armed guards, who took my gun, my badge, my phone, but let me keep the papers I brought - and my DEA windbreaker. I was surprised again at how large the complex seemed as I was escorted down hallways, up stairs, down stairs, and finally we came to a cool, wet corridor that had water dripping from large, overhead pipes. We entered a door at the end of the hall, and there was Hawk, strutting in all his Aryan self-glory. At least he had on pants, but no shirt and his muscles rippled as he finished wiping the worst of the blood off his hands. He smiled, “Ah agent. Good. You are just in time. I want you to meet my competitor. In truth he used to be my protégé. I gave him everything. Even taught him a few secrets of the cook. But then, he then disappeared. Just poof! Gone. I presumed he was dead. Imagine my surprise when we raided one of the labs from the intel you gave us and voila! He was one of many happy findings today.” Hawk circled the man like he was seeking an as yet unbruised part of skin which to abuse. I clenched my fists and fought the urge to try to kick the shit out of him right then and there. “AGENT - AGENT! NO WORRIES. THE METH HIGH WILL EVEN OUT IN A DAY OR TWO. YOU WILL EITHER LEARN TO MANAGE IT TO BECOME A FUNCTIONAL ADDICT, OR NOT. AND IF NOT...WELL...AS YOU CAN SEE I DO TAKE FAILURE AND BETRAYAL SERIOUSLY,” Hawk said as he stepped right up to me. He then finished his little tantrum with, “I want you to kill him agent. One shot. To the head. Here. You may use your own gun even. There is only one bullet in the chamber so you may be tempted to shoot one of my men - or even me instead - remember all those other lives that will be lost from your foolish action.” I didn’t have to consider my response. “No,” I said. “I won’t do it. I will stick to the deal, but I won’t kill or hurt anyone. You might have people at the DEA, but clearly they are fuck ups or you would not need me. I got you more in a few hours than clearly anyone else has in a long time. I’m more useful to you alive but I won’t do this.” Hawk showed his teeth, his jaw muscles twitched as he controlled his anger. Clearly this was a man who not used to being told no. He then patted me on the arm, “Very well agent. Let’s you and I spend some alone time then.” Escorted to a small room that contained a filthy, used mattress on the floor and which was littered with liquor, drug, and smoke remnants, Hawk took off his pants, spit on his dick, and stroked it to it’s full hardness. “SHOW ME YOUR ASS AGENT. NO LEAVE YOUR JACKET ON. YOU ARE MY DEA BITCH. I TOLD YOU I WOULD MAKE YOU A CUM DUMP - MY AIDS FAGGOT - BUT FIRST LET ME SEE IF I CAN ADD SOME OF YOUR BLOOD TO THIS TOWEL TOO. I DO LIKE TO INSPECT MY HANDIWORK.” Hawk was rubbing his coated hands up under my shirt, marking me and cleaning himself off at the same time as the latest shards of meth burned into the cuts and scrapes he had created like a Blitzkrieg that was intent on erasing all resistance to his coming, viral invasion. “YOU READY FOR MY POZ ARYAN CUM AGENT? I WILL IMPREGNATE YOU OVER, AND OVER, AND OVER AND JUST LIKE TODAY, EACH AND EVERY TIME WILL BE AS I DEMAND - RAW, BLOODY, AND TO REMIND YOU THAT I OWN YOU LOCK, STOCK, AND BARREL. YOU AND I ARE ONE NOW, TIL DEATH DO US PART AGENT - YOU AND I ARE ONE NOW AGENT AS MY AIDS BUG UNITES US IN A VOW OF POISON!” I lay there and took Hawk’s probing fingers, the digging of his nails, the brutality of his raw dick, and his explosion of eggs inside me. What else could I do then? Nothing. While my logical mind reassured me that fighting back would not gain me anything, that I was outmatched, that I had to focus on surviving and the long game, I could not help but feel ashamed, weak, impotent. When he was done, Hawk spat on my prone body, then reached down and gently tugged my DEA windbreaker back into position, “I MUST LEAVE YOU NOW AGENT. EVEN AFTER ALL I HAVE SAID AND ALL YOU HAVE DONE I STILL BELIEVE THAT SOME PART OF YOU DOES NOT QUITE TAKE ME SERIOUSLY ENOUGH. FOUR OF MY GUARDS ARE OUTSIDE. THEY HAVE BEEN TRAINED IN CERTAIN TECHNIQUES TO ENSURE COMPLIANCE. BONES MAY BEND AND NOT BREAK. SOCKETS AND TENDONS MAY MISALIGN AND STRETCH THE WRONG WAY WITHOUT TEARING. THE BODY MAY BE HIT AND PUNISHED SO THAT ANY BRUISING IS ON THE INSIDE AND DOES NOT SHOW. THESE ARE SKILLS THAT MUST BE PRACTICED AGENT. USED. HONED. SO I HAVE OFFERED THEM YOU. OH YES OF COURSE THEY WILL FUCK YOU TOO AND FILL YOUR ASS WITH UNMEDICATED AIDS AND OTHER VIRUSES. NOT ONLY ARE THEY ANXIOUS TO FLEX THEIR UNIQUE SKILLS, THEY ARE ANXIOUS TO - AS THEY SAY - FUCK A DEA BITCH!” The four masked guards entered the room and circled me. I said not a word, but I marked their eyes - eyes I would never forget - and then they began. While they had left their masks on to prevent me from seeing their faces, in addition to their eyes two of them seemed not to notice as the sleeves on their arms slid up during their ‘training’. The patches of skin showed parts of very distinctive tattoos on their forearms. They took my quietness as acceptance of what they were doing to me - it was not - I was using all of my energy to commit those tatts to memory, and filed them with the images of their eyes now burned inside my skull. I would take these animals down too. Meth burned my gut lining as more of it was shoved up my ass and fingered into my nose and gums by the masked assailants. I had lost track of time, of the numbers of connections of their flesh to mine - of their gloved hands to my limbs - of their booted feet to my body. My DEA windbreaker lay in tatters beneath me as it had been sliced off my body by one of the guards. He was now sitting in a chair, his mask rolled up enough so he could smoke. Another guard was kneeling over my head so I could suck on his dick while his cohort plunged in and out of my ripped ass ring. The door slammed open, Hawk strode in, “WHAT DID YOU FUCKING DO AGENT? GOD DAMN IT WHAT DID YOU DO?” he screamed. Hawk - in his rants and raves - disclosed that Chris, my former best friend/lover who had betrayed me, had been picked up by men driving a dark sedan about 30 minutes ago. One of Hawk’s guys who was watching him saw it all go down. Hawk’s guy also saw that Chris was carrying not only a full supply of meth he was supposed to drop off, but a large backpack of cash from one of the pickups. Hawk had immediately put the word out to the police on his payroll at the local precinct, but Chris never showed there. He never showed up anywhere. Where did the men go? Where was Chris? What had I done? Hawk was livid and spittle flew from his mouth as one question after another pummeled me. With the four guards’ DNA leaking from my bloody ass, the taste of their skin still on my tongue, I sat up, looked at Hawk and innocently asked, “HOW COULD I HAVE DONE ANYTHING AT ALL? I’VE BEEN HERE. FOR HOURS AND HOURS AS YOU KNOW. I HAVE NOT LEFT THIS ROOM SINCE YOU - WHAT DID YOU CALL IT? OH YES - MADE ME YOUR DEA BITCH. AND THEN OF COURSE I WAS JOINED BY YOUR MEN HERE FOR THEIR LITTLE GAME. HOW COULD I HAVE KNOWN WHERE CHRIS WAS? HOW COULD I HAVE TOLD THE COPS? DO YOU HAVE ANY WATER? I’M KIND OF PARCHED.” Hawk clearly didn’t believe me, but he also knew that what I said was true. He said to his men, “GET HIS PHONE. CUT HIS FUCKING FINGER OFF TO UNLOCK IT IF YOU HAVE TO. I WANT IT SEARCHED - ALL TEXTS, CALLS, EMAILS, EVERYTHING. THEN CHECK THE SIM CARD.” As Hawk turned in frustration to leave the room I hollered, “So hard to find good help these days isn’t it?” Hawk paused, turned, and glared. I could see on his face and his eyes he wanted to hit me, kick me, fuck me. I knew I was pushing it, but I couldn’t resist. He had to feel unsure - they all did. Then they would make the mistakes I needed to take them all down. Hawk gave a wild sweep of his arm, “GET THEM ALL IN HERE. EVERY FUCKING ONE. I DON’T CARE IF THEY SWING THAT WAY OR NOT. I EXPECT EVERY GOD DAMN DICK WITHIN A MILE OF THIS PLACE TO FUCK MR. DEA AGENT HERE. DRUG HIM UP AS MUCH AS YOU WANT. DO WHATEVER THE FUCK YOU WANT. SOMEONE NEEDS TO PAY FOR THIS FUCK UP SO UNLESS ONE OF YOU IS GOING TO STEP FORWARD, THEN IT’S HIM.” In the face of the flood to come I just smiled at my Aryan Master - Game on asshole! Back in the evidence locker, in a corner far to the back, on a shelf covered in grime and dust, nestled at the bottom of a box that had seemingly not been touched in years was an old cell phone with a number that had never been traced, or logged into evidence. It vibrated - white letters appeared on the blue-lit screen: “THANK YOU FOR THE TIP AND ACCESS CODE. IT PAID OFF. WE CAUGHT THE GUY AND GAVE A BLOW TO THOSE POISON PUSHERS. PERP ALREADY OUT OF TOWN IN SAFE LOCATION AND NO ONE OUTSIDE ME AND REGIONAL FBI OFFICE KNOW. NO ONE LOCAL IN LOOP. AND AS YOU SAID HE’S TOO MESSED UP TO KNOW ANYTHING OR PROVIDE GOOD INFO, BUT THE LOSS OF CASH AND PRODUCT COUNTS. ALREADY WORKING ON MIRRORING ALL OTHER TECH PINGS. ANYMORE INFO FALLS INTO YOUR LAP, YOU KNOW HOW TO REACH ME. - ASSISTANT D.A. MCLEOD” (*From the author: If you like the story let me know - post a reply or give a reputation. Thanks to everyone who takes the time to read these stories and for the continued support!)

Part 2 - Speed Breeding: Garrett’s troll dick was angled to the right, stretching my ass for what he called part of my ‘training’ for the Speed Breeding that was going to happen Friday night at the big sex party. He had already filled me with two loads, and called in a BBC buddy of his to give me a third, so my ass was good and wet. I had only recently tested POZ and while safe sex was the norm those days, it was awesome just fucking without having to talk about all that. Garrett never mentioned his status or asked mine, and I didn’t either. He wanted some ass, I needed some dick, and so we were good. “Lift that right leg back now - that’s it - feel that bit of resistance? That’s your second hole ring. You got a deep ass boy and it took me a minute to find the right spot. There will be some guys there Friday night who are bigger than me and will fuck you with no mercy as hard, deep, and fast as they can. You think you can take that? Once the Speed Breeding starts I can’t have you bowing out or complaining. You trust me? Willing to do what I need to make sure you are trained and ready?” I nodded yes; then looked in Garrett’s eyes as he picked up speed and SLAM! tore through that fleshy barrier. I screamed then immediately started to apologize as it felt like my hole was bleeding a bit. Garrett just kept fucking and smiled, “It’s OK, it’s OK. Feeling better now? See no matter how much your ass may hurt in that second, soon your it starts getting all warm, the hormones flow, and whatever little sting you felt becomes just fucking bliss. Ready for it again?” After Garrett had pumped another load in me, he lit a cigarette, laid back on the messed up bed beside me, and we started to talk. The conversation wasn’t about sex or anything major really, just life, stories of guys he knew, things he had experienced, asses he had fucked, his outlook on life in DC. His townhouse was modest and located at the edge of the ‘gay hood’ and next to a sketchy part of town. Nothing about his life screamed money or flashiness - just a normal guy. Garrett was in his early 40s and I was about 12 years younger. He said he liked the ‘old troll’ label as it was freeing. He had learned long ago not to give a fuck about what anybody thought or said and there was something wild and wicked about all those pretty boy queens bending over to let him fuck them like he wanted. “You’re different though,” Garrett observed as he tapped out his cigarette and handed me the bottle of coke – high grade cocaine. “Quiet and fresh sure, but you don’t seem like that crowd suits you.” I snorted, wiped my nose, shrugged, and admitted, “Yeah. I guess I lived that way far too long - caring what everyone else thought - and have started to realize I was missing out on a lot. You know I had never done anything like what we did at the bar before. I fucking loved it though!” Garrett laughed, took the bottle, snorted, “Yeah that was obvious too. Let me think on what else we can do today to help you along with seeing what you been missing.” Garrett had gone out, but had left me with a few bottles of cocaine and told me to get good and high. He also said I should make myself at home and he would be back shortly and that I was welcome to spend the evening. Then he had added cryptically, “You will really enjoy it if you do.” I couldn’t believe how trusting he was and so just sat in the living room, flipping through a stack of magazines he had on his coffee table. I heard the back door open, Garrett’s voice, and the voices of at least two others. “Pour us a drink will you,” Garrett said to his new guests as he started to walk my way, “Add an extra one for my new friend.” I stood up. Garrett set a few more bottles of coke on the coffee table, “Snort up. Tonight’s my usual card night with a couple buddies. I know you like black dick and they are a couple of white ass killers and tag team destroyers who each have humongous dicks and can fuck round after round. Is that ass still hungry? Fuck your hole is dripping wet and Jesus - look what you did to my dick. But I’ll wait. I need you to take my buddies first. Couple things to know. They are rough, rowdy, rude, and will hold you down and rape fuck you hard. You ever been truly rape fucked? They’re straight - mostly - but a pussy is a pussy and when we drink and get high they get horny as shit, so on occasion I line up a little side action for them. They are not pretty boys - these are real men who take what they want and need when they want and need it. Unlike that young guy I had come fuck you earlier, these two are the real deal. Finally, they are both homeless and for Speed Breeding you have to be willing to take ANY dick. You trust me? Will you do this? I can assure you that you will fucking love it!” And then it began: “TAKE THAT DICK… “YEAH YOU TRAINING THIS ONE RIGHT MAN - TRAINING HIM RIGHT... “THAT SECOND HOLE BROKE ALREADY - DAMN! TIME TO DIG OUT THAT THIRD… “HOW’S THAT CRUSTY DICK FEELING IN THAT PUSSY? PULL THEM CHEEKS APART, LET MY MAN HERE GET A GOOD LOOK AT MY DICK STRETCHING THAT CUNT OUT…” “MAN YOU AIN’T TAUGHT HIM HOW TO DEEPTHROAT YET? FUCK NAW MAN - STRAIGHT ON TO THE ADVANCE COURSE OF GAG-THE-FAG…” “TIME FOR SOME A.T.M. - ASS TO MOUTH - HOW’S THAT DICK TASTE?…” “YEAH HOW’S THAT HORSE DICK FEEL? YOU MY FILLY NOW - FILL YOU UP WITH SOME BABIES, LET YOU SHIT THAT NUTT OUT - FILL YOU AGAIN…” “YOU LIKE HOW THIS NICCA DICK CURVES UP AND HIT’S THAT CLIT? OH YOU WANT IT HARDER? FUCK YEAH!...” “YO GARRETT, WE CRASHING HERE TONIGHT BRO - THINK WE NEED TO KEEP THIS CUNT COKED UP AND KNOCKED UP...” “NO WE AIN’T GENTLE. BITCHES IN HEAT NEED TO GET KNOCKED UP ROUGH BY THE PREDATOR DICK…” “WE SHOULD TAKE YOU DOWN TO THE BOOKSTORES AND LET ALL THE NICCAS GANG RAPE THAT ASS. YOU LETTIN US PIMP YOU OUT? FUCK YEAH!...” “I AIN’T TIED A BITCH UP IN A LONG MINUTE. YO GARRETT? YOU STILL GOT YOUR BAG OF TRICKY SHIT?...” Garrett and his friends never did get to their card game as they said breeding me was all the spades they needed. Of course my friends were suspicious when I called to let them know I was crashing someplace else that night and were not happy when I just told them I was staying with a friend and that it was no one they knew. They believed I didn’t know anyone else in DC - how could I? I had just gotten here Saturday. Well the stress I felt after the call was immediately relieved as one BBC slammed back up my ass, another slammed down my throat, and Garrett stood to the side so I could stroke his troll dick. As the three men spent the night training me to be a sub slut for dirty, raw, dick, and exploring my body, I took in every lesson they taught me on how to take dick, suck dick, and please a true top who just wanted to fuck. None of this lovey dovey gay shit. This was just balls-to-the-wall hardcore sex with no strings. The more they fucked me, the more they talked about what crazy shit they wanted me to do and the more they laughed when without hesitation I said, “I’M IN. WHEN CAN WE DO IT?” Tuesday morning arrived with a tangle of man flesh and an insistent hard dick pushing through the caked cum in my hole to open me back up. The fuck fest had moved from the main floor of Garrett’s townhouse downstairs to a basement apartment, which he said he had rented out when he first bought the place, but now used it for the occasional guest, party, or storage needs. As soon as the morning load was dropped in my hole I scampered to the bathroom and let out a stream of rank piss then some cum farts and a tire’s worth of air. I came out as the two BBC were stretching and looking for a smoke or coke and their sweaty bodies, man funk, masculine ‘fuck-it-if-it-moves’ approach made my dick stiff and my ass hungry for more. That’s how Garrett found us when he came down the stairs carrying a tray of cups and a pot of warm coffee. While the two homeless guys helped themselves, Garrett slid into my raw ass and asked, “Which one of you two has already been digging around up in here this morning? Jesus - it’s my house. You could have at least offered me dibs.” They all laughed. As much as I wanted to just hang out and fuck, I was supposed to help my friend with some stuff at his place. Garrett walked me upstairs, helped me find my clothes, then handed me a small pill, “Here. Take this and drink plenty of water and juice and stuff today. It’ll ease the come down.” I wanted to thank him and to ask when I could see him again, but he was way ahead of me. “I’m planning to cook something up on the grill for dinner tonight. Maybe if you are not doing anything, you are welcome to come back by. Who knows, maybe your other new friends downstairs will be here, or maybe somebody else if you want that too.” I smiled, reached out and stroked his monster troll dick and replied, “I enjoy just hanging with you and talking and, well of course letting you fuck me. But am cool with whatever. Yeah I had a great time with them too so like I said, anything you want. I want to make sure I am ready for the Speed Breeding on Friday.” Garrett nodded, smiled, gave my ass a slap, and let me out the front door. I didn’t realize what assholes my ‘friends’ were until I got back to their house and received a lecture that included the word ‘ungrateful’ just because I was trying to have a life that did not include them after my own had gone to total hell. I bit my tongue, did the cleaning and other shit I had said I would do, and then showered, changed, and left before I said something I would regret. On the walk back to Garrett’s I was mumbling to myself, pissed at my ‘friends’, pissed at the world. “Hey buddy, got some change? Any change?” someone pleaded. The voice brought me out of my stupor and I stopped. There sitting on the curb of the sidewalk was a guy, tall and lanky and sort of hunched over. He was dressed in layers that were far too warm for the time of year and had a dusty, dark colored backpack beside him bulging with stuff. “Any change?” he asked again. My ass quivered. I flashed back to the night before to the two homeless BBC that had fucked me and I needed more. This guy was sexy, masculine, and looked like a good, hard fuck, but what do I say? I just shrugged and said, “Sorry man, but maybe later when I come back by if you’re around.” The guy gave me a ‘yeah I’ve heard that before’ look, but smiled and said, “Any change at all. I appreciate it,” and hunched back over. “What’s wrong?” Garrett asked when he answered the door. I just shook my head while he dried his hands on a dishtowel. I just met the guy. Last thing he needed was to hear my problems. Garrett smiled, “Come on into the kitchen. You can help me cut up stuff and prep. You cook much? Oh and there’s some coke on the counter there if you want some. That’ll make you feel better.” He was right. The cocaine and the pleasant company made me feel better in nothing flat. A little more coke, some more, and my ass was raring to go. While Garrett did say he could not fuck me until he got the ribs and stuff cooking, he did let me kneel on the floor and suckle on his big troll dick while he finished the prep. As I did, I imagined I was sucking the guy I saw on the street so I paused and asked, “How do you pick up guys off the street or in a park?” Garrett stepped back, “Damn! You had me right on the fucking edge. Was going to blast your throat. Turn the fuck around so I can spit fuck that ass.” I grunted as Garrett worked his dry, raw dick into my hole and fumbled with the bottle to snort more coke as he did. The burn in my nose, the drip in my throat, was matched by the burn and drip happening on my backside as Garrett started to fuck me hard and school me in the ways of picking up street trade. “Street dick is all about the nutt and the hustle. No street dude is looking for a love connection. Like my friends last night. It’s all about fucking rough, quick, raw, and making a little something for the hustle if they can. These guys rarely know where the next meal is coming from, where they will crash that night, if the cops are going to hassle them, or if anyone is going to show a little kindness and mercy and help them out. Yeah, cash is necessary, but so to is a warm smile, a human touch. Most of these guys aren’t out there by choice really. Sure, some are fucked up on drugs and shit, but they would choose having a home and family and being high rather than not having a home. You understand? Some guys you can just come right out and ask because they will be upfront about it. Usually they are the gay ones. The ones who might have been street sex workers when they were younger but now that they’re older, that shit’s harder to do cause everyone wants young trade. The straight ones, most will fuck ass just as quick as pussy. They got needs and wants too so if there is a chance to blow some cum in a warm hole, they’ll take it. Just start a conversation and ask what they’re up to or what’s going on. But, you need to offer them a little something. A few bucks, a couple of smokes, a sandwich, whatever. Then they’ll push you against a wall like this or bend you over in the alley - UGH - stick their dick in you like this - UGH - then fucking breed that ass deep like this! UGH UGH!!” With his dick still pumping spurts of hot man juice in my ass I asked, “OK, makes sense, but what if they get pissed or want to fight or something?” Garrett pumped his hips a few more times and told me, “Push your ass back and bend forward - fuck yeah like that - scraping that upper gut wall good. Fuck boy that is good ass.” Garrett pulled out of my ass, I quickly knelt down and licked him clean, then looked up, “I saw this guy a few blocks over on my way here. I really wanted to see if he wanted to fuck. But….” Garrett asked where, I told him, “Yeah he’s got a big old dick and he hustles. I know him from back in the day. Have not done anything with him in ages, but he’s got a little spot around the corner from where he asks for change that he takes men and women. So my buddies last night turned you onto the freak shit huh? Can’t be taught man, you are or you aren’t and you definitely ARE. That’s what I was talking about living. If you want to fuck - fuck. What’s the worst that can happen really? The guy says no. Just be smart about it. Have a plan in mind if you need to run and also never ask a street dude if he wants to fuck when other folks are around. Even the old street trade guys keep their shit on the DL - you know Down Low.” The ribs were on the grill for a slow smoke that Garrett said would take a few hours. “I need to go to the Fire Place bar down on P Street to work out some final plans for Friday’s party with one of the guys who’s in charge of setting shit up. Want to come along?” I declined. My friends had mentioned that place for cheap happy hours so I knew they might be there and I really didn’t want to see them. Garret nodded in understanding, handed me a $10, a bottle of coke, and a few paper towels. “Here, go back up to the corner. He’ll still be there and when I get back, I expect to find your ass full of his cum. Just show him the bill and ask him if he’s got a few minutes. He’ll know what you mean. I’ll leave the back door unlocked so just come in that way when you get back and oh, I may bring some folks back with me too. There’s a couple of fresh, young guys there who just started working the streets. I know their pimp and he owes me and may bring him along too. I think he would like you.” OK, all that just fucking blew my mind I had to laugh wondering what my friends would say if they had just heard that conversation or knew what I was planning to do next. I held the bottle up to the light and eyed the shadow line of cocaine inside. I twisted the black cap, tapped a line out onto the edge of my hand and snorted - and repeated. Garrett was right. Walking up the sidewalk I was nervous as hell, but as I looked, I could see the guy on the corner was not just slumped over. He was scanning the folks on the street, both sides, coming and going, far more aware of what was going on than I suspect anyone else was. I palmed the brown bottle in my pocket and eased out the $10. I paused then paced my approach to try to ensure I timed it when I saw no one else coming the opposite way. I stopped to his right, asked if he remembered me, and before he could answer I flashed the $10 and asked if he had a minute. Well it was barely a minute later before I found myself pressed into a corner between an overgrown part of a yard and high, brick wall and the corners of an old carriage house and run down apartment building. The homeless guy had dropped his pants, grabbed my shoulders, and rape fucked my ass dry, rough, and exactly how I needed it. The only thing he said was, “Shhh,” when I grunted a little loud. His dick was nice and long and not as thick as Garrett’s. I could literally feel it when he shot in me and then he pulled out, stepped back, wiped his dribbling dick head on the inside of his pants, and walked back out of the alley. I pulled my shorts up and looked left and right as I came out. At the corner a now familiar voice asked, “Hey buddy, got some change? Any change?” I smiled and replied, “Not today Sir, but maybe tomorrow.” Back at Garrett’s house I could not help but jack my dick, thinking about the homeless dick that had just nutted in me. I was leaning back on the couch, jacking hard, my eyes closed when I heard the back door and voices. I quit what I was doing, yanked my shorts up, and went to the kitchen, all the while willing my still hard dick to soften. Garrett eyed me, smiled, nodded clearly knowing I had been successful, then introduced me to his guests. “Guys. This is my new friend I was telling you about. He just moved to DC and who will be one of the featured bottoms in the Speed Breeding area at Friday’s party.” The younger guy looked to be about 19 or 20, clean shaven, very preppy looking. The older guy was much taller, with twisted braids and a part in the middle, mustache, with an extra large white/tan plaid shirt on and looked totally like the tall dude from the group Bone Thugs N Harmony. “You two go into the living room and give us a minute. We’ve got a few things to discuss,” Garrett said. In the living room the younger guy pointed at one of the bottles of cocaine on the table, “May I?” he asked. A big snort later and he held out his hand, “Call me Kip. My mom was a fan of Rudyard Kipling - you know the author?” That was the extent of our conversation. We just didn’t click - at all. The tall man walked in, looked at Kip, “Ain’t you got someplace to be youngin?” he asked. Kip scrambled like Godzilla was on the loose. The tall man walked over, sat down on the couch beside me, his arms across the top, his legs splayed wide like he fucking owned the place. “Yo, set me up for some of the powder. My man’s always got the primo shit.” I opened the brown bottle and flinched as he set his hand between my shoulder blades then, “HMMMed,” as he ran his fingers down my spine to where my crack was peeking out the top of my shorts. He leaned forward, cleared 4 lines, then motioned for me to lay out more. I did, then he motioned for me to snort them. I did. “Suck my motha-fuckin dick!” the tall man ordered. I looked towards the kitchen to see where Garrett was. SMACK! The tall man cuffed my head. “Why you not doing what I say? Huh? I said suck it.” I got on the floor between his knees, unzipped his pants, he raised his hips off the couch and let me slide his pants down around his ankles, then I inhaled the sweat from his balls and started to spit up his shaft. He didn’t say a word. Didn’t moan. Nothing. I was afraid to stop. “Bend the fuck over!” he said. I stood up. There was really no place to bend over so I edged a bit further down the couch. He stood up, kicking the coffee table back, making room for his massive mandingo dick. He ran his fingers down my spine again, found my hole, jammed three in deep as he could, scratched it up, pulled them out, grabbed my hips and slammed his dick home. Even full of homeless cum it hurt. “I ONLY FUCK WHORES - YOU A WHORE? YEAH YOU MUST BE. I SMELL THAT SOME DIRTY NICCA’S BEEN UP ON YOU. SMELL THAT PUSSY FULL OF DIRTY NICCA NUTT. YEAH MY MAN WAS RIGHT. THAT PUSSY MADE FOR A DICK LIKE MINE. YOU JUST LET ANY NICCA THAT WANTS CLIMB UP IN THAT SHIT AND NUTT? EVEN WITH AIDS AND ALL THAT? YOU EXACTLY WHAT I NEED TOMORROW THEN. A TOTAL BUSSY WITH NO SELF RESPECT WHO WILL LET A WHOLE GROUP OF DIRTY NICCA USE THAT TWEAKER ASS. BUT DON’T WORRY. C.O.’S GOT YOU.” I was using some of the paper towels from my short’s pocket to wipe the chunks of spooge off the back my thigh when Garrett walked in smiling. “See - I knew you two would get along.” Turning to me he said, “Look. I know you didn’t say it, but clearly things are fucked up where you’re staying at. Look around. I got space. You’re welcome to stay here. Really. You’d even be doing me a favor as I would appreciate someone who could help run errands and clean and stuff. No. No. I’m not asking for rent. I know you don’t have a job yet. That’s what I’m saying. You can work for me. Hell you should see my office upstairs. Trust me I need the help. Even better, you can have the basement apartment. Come and go as you please, but of course I hope you know I do enjoy fucking that ass so while not required for this to work…” The tall man coughed, swallowed the cocaine drip, “Fuck he’ll take it. Can we get on now?” Garrett laughed, “You have not been formally introduced, but this is C.O. - he grew up in Cleveland, Ohio - so C.O.” Another snort and swallow from the tall man. “C.O. will drive you to your friends’ house right now. You can pick up your things and by the time you get back the ribs should be ready and then we can get you set up. How’s that sound?” I looked at Garret with total appreciation, thanks, and a silent promise to let him breed my ass all fucking night long. “How’s that bussy feel?” C.O. asked as we drove the dozen blocks or so to my friends’ house. I looked at C.O as he flicked the ash from his cigarette out the cracked window on the driver’s side. I eyed his tall, rugged form, leaning back in the driver’s seat and imagined him fucking me again as I stared at his crotch area. “Eyes up here whore - eyes up here! He chuckled. “Now which fucking place is it?” Cars behind us were honking as C.O. slowly made his way down the one-way street and double parked close to the townhouse I pointed too. He flipped off the car behind us when he got out, sauntered over to the sidewalk, tossed his still lit cigarette into the bushes, ambled down the steps and banged on the door to the basement unit. Yeah my friends lived in a fucking basement unit. It was nice, really nice, in a huge townhouse in one of the best neighborhoods, but it was still the God damn basement. Fucking uppity queens! They acted like they lived in Buckingham Palace for Christ’s sake! We could hear someone on the other side of the door and C.O. yelled, “OPEN THE FUCK UP! YO BOY’S HERE TO GET HIS SHIT!” He then turned to me with an utter look of confusion like he couldn’t understand why two uptight white dudes would not open their door for him. I stepped up, looked at the peephole and said, “It’s me. I just came to get some things.” The chain eased back, the deadbolt turned, the door opened just a crack so my friends could see it was me. C.O. pushed past me and in a few hectic, loud, chaotic minutes I explained I was moving out, that this was a friend, no I was not being robbed, no they were not being robbed, that yes I was OK, thanks for all they had done, OK see you later. Bye. The car was set into park as C.O. pulled up in front of Garrett’s house. He looked at me and said, “Yo. My man’s good people. He helps folks out. I don’t know you, but trust - if you fuck him over I will hunt you the fuck down. We clear?” I nodded. C.O. smiled, “Aiight, you’re on loan to me tomorrow. Be ready at 3:00. I’ll pick you up. I need a gangbang bitch for a group of brothas who’ll be watching the game tomorrow night. They get off on raping a faggot. They know you can’t call the cops cause they won’t give a shit and they know there’s no risk of baby mama drama. My man says you can handle it. That’s why he’s got you - and Kip - booked for Speed Breeding on Friday. You know you’re taking one of my boy’s slots right? It’s cool yo - business is business, but you got to prove to me - and Garrett - that bussy can handle ANYTHING we fucking throw at it and from what I hear, you still green and fresh to the scene.” I gave C.O. a dismissive grunt, pulled my suitcase out of the trunk and slammed it. I walked up the steps, turned, and saw the rough thug glaring at me from the driver’s side window. I forked my fingers on my right hand, pointed at my face and said, “EYES UP HERE FUCKER. AND DON’T BE LATE TOMORROW. IF YOU WANT THIS BUSSY, YOU BEST BE ON TIME.” C.O.’s chuckle echoed between the brick walls as I made my way inside my new home. Tomorrow would be another day of training, preparing me for the Speed Breeding that would happen Friday. I couldn’t fucking wait! Stay tuned for part 3. (*From the author: If you like the story let me know - post a reply or give a reputation. Thanks to everyone who takes the time to read these stories and for the continued support!)

SPEED BREEDING: Garrett was a self-proclaimed ‘ugly old troll’ but he had a fucking killer dick. His dick was long, thicker than a beer can - I know, I measured it several times and every time I stood in awe –his dick had numerous weird bumps and humps on it like some Medieval fairy tale, and spewed unmedicated POZ cum like an Arabian Stallion. I first met Garrett about 20 years ago at my very first “Sunday Funday” at one of the local gay bars. I don’t really do the whole gay scene, but the friends I was living with after just moving to town the day before took me with them as they were regulars and it was the place to see and be seen on a Sunday afternoon after all the queens had left church. We had not been on the patio of the bar for 5 minutes before my friend tapped me on the arm and held his drink forth like a royal scepter to point at a man sitting just in the shadows of the patio roof, “See him? That one? DON’T EVER talk to him. We NEVER speak with him.” He then proceeded to give the financial review and resume summary of all the ‘DC power queens’ in attendance - those he expected me to bow to, kiss their fucking hand, and pretend like I gave a fuck about their Martha Stewart Living chintz condo. I was at the bar, trying to get drink refills for my two friends and I to no avail. I had moved further and further down the bar trying to get the bartender’s attention and was literally leaning up on the bar on my forearms practically yelling at the jerk and was about to give up when someone squeezed my right arm, “Let me,” he said. It was Garrett. I shrugged, he said one word, “THOMAS!” and the bartender could not turn and pay attention to him fast enough. I was in awe. As Thomas was busy preparing my order I gave Garrett my thanks, “It’s nothing,” he said, “Thomas shows up at my door about four nights a week after the bar closes begging for my dick and load up his ass so the boy knows what’s at stake.” I blanched a bit at his bluntness, turned to see who else might have heard, then Garrett set his hand on my arm again, “I know what your friends over there say and think about me. I know what they all say and think about me. Ask me if I give a flying fuck! Half these fucking queens are ankles up on my bed at least once during the week as I fuck the shit out of them so here’s to you!” Wow - and I instinctively glanced down at his crotch and saw a fucking GIANT bulge straining his summer whites. Garrett’s hand was back on my arm, “You trying to get fucked?” I didn’t know what to say to that either. He spoke up again, “THOMAS! Double shots - Tequila - NOW!” The bartender bobbed his head, stopped the drink he was mixing, and poured four shots of Tequila in front of us. I’m more of a beer guy, but figured what the hell. I matched Garrett shot for shot and was soon stumbling through the crowd as I followed him to a door at the back marked NO ENTRY. He turned the lock, we stepped in, “YOU’RE NEW IN TOWN RIGHT?” GARRETT ASKED, “ I KNOW I WOULD HAVE REMEMBERED THAT ASS. PULL THOSE FUCKING SHORTS DOWN.” I obeyed without question, but once the pain of his raw cock ripping my hole open took the edge off the liquor I begged him to pull out and put a condom on. He just laughed, stuck a bottle under my nose and said, “Sniff this powder,” then kept fucking me. Before I knew it Garrett was rubbing my head like I was a pound puppy, “That’s some good ass boy. Just loaded you up. Here’s my number. Any time you need some good dick you just call.” The door opened and closed and I was alone. I tried to pull myself together, but felt pretty fucked up so when I left the stock room we had been in. I stumbled down the stairs, out to the curb, and caught a cab back to my friends’ place. I was together enough to call the bar from a pay phone, to have them paged, and to let them know I had come home and crashed and was not feeling well. I deflected their questions the next day and really did not think much about what had happened until I found the crumpled up paper in my pocket with the number. I called it. Garrett picked up on the second ring. There was no preamble, “Yeah I remember you. You need some more dick huh? Stop at the liquor store on your way. I need a bottle of Vodka.” Just over an hour and two shots of vodka later I was bent over in Garrett's hallway as he bred me with his massive, deformed, raw dick. With my pants still down around my ankles and his cum dripping from my hole, he led me to his bedroom pushed me onto the bed, undressed me, shoved some coke in front of my nose for me to snort, then handed me a bottle of poppers as he eased back up my cummy ass and started exploring. The coke made me high as fuck and one load was not enough. Two was not enough. Unlike my friends - and their friends - who I knew were prudes and would have had some snide comment, Garrett just smiled, patted me on the arm and said, “No worries. I know just who to call.” Less than 20 minutes later there was a horse dick sized BBC plowing my ass raw as Garrett sat quietly in the living room watching his TV. Once done, with BBC cum odor still filling the air, Garrett smiled, “Feel better? I’m sure you do. I always do after he fucks me. Yes, yes, I know I have a big dick, but as you know, sometimes there’s just nothing that feels better than a big black man fucking the hell out of you. OK. What are you doing Friday night?” I was fucked silly right then and could barely form two words, but Garrett went on, “Look. I throw a party one Friday a month at a parking garage over on P Street. It’s a sex party. Everyone thinks it’s Dean’s, which it is, but he’s the front man really. I own the garage, but that is neither here nor there.” (Not until a couple years later at the reading of his will would I come to realize yes he owned that property, which was bought by Whole Foods, as well as a majority of the club where I first met him, and a bunch of other shit in town that no one ever knew about). “The party attracts several hundred people over the course of the night, but a select bunch are invited into the VIP area. You can make some good cash if you help me. All I need is for you to offer that thick white ass to whoever wants to fuck and breed it - no questions asked. I will give you all the coke you need, it will be totally anonymous - your queenie friends and the fucking royal court will never know you are there let alone part of my Speed Breeding set up. You like? Speed Breeding? One of my guys manages it, but it’s my idea. There are two, maybe three bottoms - total cum dumps - who will have their ass up in a curtained off area. For $20, any top gets 5 minutes to fuck and cum if he can. The more cum you take, the more tips you get, the more money you make. You got a fucking hungry ass and you can still call me anytime you need some raw dick, but I’d really love to set you up for the Speed Breeding. I think you would be fucking perfect - what do you say?” HELL - I WAS DRUGGED UP, MY HOLE WAS FUCKED OUT, AND MY GUTS FILLED WITH CUM - WHAT DID HE THINK I WOULD SAY? Stay tuned for part 2. (*From the author: If you like the story let me know - post a reply or give a reputation. Thanks to everyone who takes the time to read these stories and for the continued support!)

Part 3: I watched as Hawk - the biggest meth cook in the region - walked past me towards a door that was guarded by two more men with guns. He paused, pulled an industrial apron off a wall hook, slipped it over his head, then gave me a wave and said, “KEEP THAT ASS FILLED AND WET FOR ME MR. DEA AGENT. I’LL BE BACK AS SOON AS I COMPLETE THIS COOK AND THEN YOU AND I SHALL DISCUSS OUR FUTURE.” I yanked on the chain that was looped between my wrists, attaching me to the steel column. As I watched Hawk leave - his Aryan dick making a large tent in the front of the industrial apron - I heard voices behind me and twisted my neck to see that a couple of his workers from the packing room had come out. They were standing by a metal table as they took off the masks they were wearing and leered at me with twisted smiles. One of them grabbed a mirror off the table, spilled a bunch of meth onto it, cut it in course lines with a razor, then the three of them walked my way. The largest man in the group, who looked like he could be a twin for Hawk down to the Aryan styled tatts, coated two fingers and started to roughly paint my broken hole with them. Tears filled the corners of my eyes as his buddies urged him to show me how a DEA bitch got fucked. First, he decided to tongue me and taste the mix of Hawk’s cum, popped cherry, and the new batch of meth. I let him get his tongue good and deep, then jerked, twisted, and brought up my right heel - BAM! I caught him square in the jaw! He fell back, swearing. One of the other guys stepped in to body press me against the column - BAM! I snapped my head back, caught him right on the bridge of the nose - it cracked like a chicken wing bone, blood gushed - and he let go. The third guy was much wiser and just punched me in the left kidney. My turn to drop, but the pain was worth it. My victory was short lived of course since I was still chained up and the little scuffle drew the attention of the guards and the other men from the packing room. I tried to kick, punch, and use my head and body; all to no avail as I was quickly overpowered, held down, and my ass stuffed with big meth shards. It was like the guy had on a metal cock sheath when he slammed into my ass as all the meth shards cut, scraped, and gouged my guts. All I could see was a sliver of light underneath the black boot that was stepping on the side of my face, pinning my head to the floor as the men now took turns raw dogging me. I thought back to the times I had fucked Chris rough, raw, and hard and had the briefest moment of regret. Fuck that! The little shit had sold me out. He would get his too. Maybe there was nothing I could do right now, but there was always a way. The meth began to dissolve, my blood stream boiled and roiled, and my fuck hole was flooded with more Aryan cum. All other thoughts of anything besides that exact second slipped through my fingers like a greased pig. They could take my body, use my flesh as they wanted, but there was still a part of me no matter how fucked up I got that was mine alone. “AH, LOOK AT THAT,” Hawk admired as he stood over me, the shadow of his hard dick acting like a sun dial on my torso, “I AM DISAPOINTED AGENT THAT YOU WOULD TRY SOMETHING SO STUPID. YOU ARE A SMART MAN, VERY SMART, AND THAT IS ONE OF THE REASONS I HAVE CHOSEN YOU. SO, LET’S JUST CALL IT A MOMENTARY LAPSE IN JUDGMENT SHALL WE? YES? NOW BOYS, IF YOU CAN SIT HIM UP IN THE CHAIR PLEASE AND MAKE SURE THE CHAINS ARE TIGHT. I WOULD HATE TO HAVE TO END THIS DISCUSSION BEFORE IT EVEN BEGAN.” I was hauled up onto my feet, dragged off to the side and plopped down into a metal chair. Chains were wrapped around my ankles and the chair legs as my arms were pulled behind me and chained through the back of the chair. Hawk was standing right in front of me, his dick wet, slick, and forming drops of dew on the tip. I licked my lips and Hawk laughed, “OH YES AGENT. THE SEED HAD BEEN PLANTED SO TO SPEAK. I WILL CONTINUE TO TRAIN YOU IN ALL THE WAYS A GOOD AIDS PIG SHOULD PLEASE HIS BRUDER MASTER. NOW AGENT - REMEMBER I ASKED IF YOU HAD SOMETHING TO OFFER ME? I KNOW YOU HAVE THOUGHT ON THIS LONG AND HARD OF COURSE, BUT I SHALL TELL YOU ANYWAYS. I WILL SPARE YOUR LITTLE ONE, YOUR LITTLE FRIEND FOR NOW. HE HAS HIS USES FOR THE MOMENT AS I BELIEVE YOU HAVE YOUR USES AS WELL.” I snarled, sneered, and did my best to heave a wad of spit at him, but all that happened was a large dribble running down my chin and onto my chest. Hawk laughed. “AGENT, AGENT, AGENT. I LIKE THAT FIRE. THAT SPUNK. BUT LET ME WARN YOU. DO SOMETHING STUPID LIKE THAT AGAIN AND YOU WILL PAY DEARLY. NOT DIRECTLY OF COURSE. LET ME RECALL. I BELIEVE YOUR FATHER IS ENJOYING HIS RETIREMENT FROM THE DEA AND PLAYS GOLF EVERY TUESDAY MORNING? YOUR MOTHER MEETS HER FRIENDS FOR CARDS ON THURSDAY NIGHTS? IT WOULD BE A SHAME IF SOMETHING HAPPENED TO THEM BECAUSE OF YOUR STUPIDITY WOULD IT NOT?” Hawk then bent down and grabbed my chin hard with his right hand and squeezed as he looked me in the eye, “YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED AGENT. MY MEN WATCH THEM. THEY WATCH YOU. I HAVE PEOPLE INSIDE YOUR LIFE, YOUR WORK, YOUR WORLD YOU CANNOT IMAGINE. YOU TRY ANYTHING - ANYTHING AT FUCKING ALL BESIDES WHAT I TELL YOU AND YOUR FAMILY PAYS THE PRICE - AS WILL YOU AND EVERYONE YOU FUCKING KNOW. HAVE I MADE MYSELF CLEAR? I CANNOT HEAR YOU - ANSWER ME - HAVE I? GOOD AGENT. GOOD. NOW TO THE BUSINESS AT HAND. Hawk laid out his initial demands for me. This would be a test of my ability to do what he needed, when he said, and of keeping my mouth shut. He warned me again of what would happen if I thought of trying to report this shakedown or what he was asking me to do and I agreed I would do what he said. Inside I still knew I was going to kill the mother fucker some day. Just not today. Once he was assured of my compliancy I was dragged to another room, Hawk wound a length of chain around my neck and pulled tight as he mounted me again like some filthy barnyard animal. The meth high was still going, but the pain was sharp, and his words stung as deep as his dick did. He told me over and over what a fag whore I was, how he was going to kill me one way or the other from his AIDs, and that I might as well embrace my new life and embrace being a POZ cum dump for him and his crew and that who knew - if I played my cards right I could move up in his organization. Oh I would move up all right, higher than he would imagine only so I could tear the whole fucking thing down! Before Hawk left the room he handed me a plastic bottle full of golden brown liquid. It was warm and he said, “I TOLD YOU I WOULD FILL YOU WITH MY PISS. NOW DRINK UP AGENT. I CAN’T HAVE YOU GETTING THE SHAKES AT MORNING ROLL CALL. THIS WILL GET YOU THROUGH THE FIRST COUPLE OF HOURS AS A BOTTLE OF MY CHEM PISS IS LIKE A FEW GOOD LINES OF MY COOK. BUT, IF YOU LOOK LIKE YOU ARE BEHAVING, THERE WILL BE SOMETHING ELSE LEFT IN YOUR LOCKER.” I gagged, sputtered, and fought to keep from puking it all back up as Hawk videoed me with his phone. I licked my lips; he smiled, and left the room. With Hawk’s Aryan cum leaking out of my ass and his warm piss filling my stomach I was left alone. The door opened, Chris walked in, looked at me, looked away, mumbled, “I’m sorry dude….I…” then looked at me again as tears cascaded down his cheeks. He stepped closer, pleading like the traitorous bitch that he was. I wanted nothing more right then than to kick the living shit out of him. To ask him why, to tell him he could have come to me, to remind him of how I was the only one who had ever been there for him, to say to him that I loved….No. Too late. I would use Chris too when the time came. Hawk was right. Chris had his uses and he would pay - they would all pay - but for now I just smiled and said, “It’s OK buddy. I get it. I do. As long as hey don’t hurt you I will do anything.” Fucking little shit hole! My clothes were brought in, I was uncuffed, unchained, and followed a big, masked guard back out through a maze of halls. We came to a locked door with a digital keypad and I tried to focus on the numbers he punched, but my mind would not cooperate. The morning air felt heavy, oppressive, the world had changed. My hand shook as I inserted the key into my car and was amazed I made it home without wrecking. I was wired, but had to focus. Roll call was in 2 hours. I quickly showered, downed some coffee, ate some toast even though I was not hungry, and poured about a half a bottle of Visine in my eyes. I got to my desk at 7:50, logged in, hunched over to try to make myself look small and punched in Hawk’s first request. He wanted me to pull the latest intel that the DEA had on one of his competitors - safe houses, likely meth lab locations, dealer names, everything. I hit PRINT, walked overly fast to the business center and hovered over the printer as page after page of DEA intel spit out. I was tapping my fingers on the edge of the printer like a drummer in a metal band. FUCK! Once the final page cleared the paper tray, I scooped them up, looked around, rolled them into a small tube and stuffed them in the back of my pants under my windbreaker. I hustled to my locker, avoiding a few of the chatty folks on the way, hid the papers inside a pile of dirty cloths at the bottom, slammed the door, and was the next to the last person in the briefing room for roll call. I was the first out the door once the briefing was over and went right back to my locker. I flung the door open and it banged. I eased it semi-closed and there taped to the top shelf was a small brown envelope stamped with an Aryan eagle symbol. I opened the tab and inside was a plastic bag stuffed with meth. Shit! Someone not only brought drugs in, they had the key to my locker. I stuffed the baggie in my pocket and went to the handicap restroom. I tried to figure out how to crush and snort the shards and realized I was not at all prepared for this shit. I thought about stomping on it then just said fuck it, licked my finger, and started jamming them up my ass. The first few hurt like hell, but I figured this was the best way to be rid of any evidence and I knew from the night before it would work. The last thing I needed was falling out in the middle of the DEA from crashing off a meth high. My mind and body were racing as I sat back at my desk. Fuck if I was going to pull this off I had to learn how to manage this shit. I was lost in thought, tapping my desk with a pen living in my drummer dream when one of my co-workers stopped, “You OK man? You look wired? Is everything alright?” I stammered, “Yeah, yeah, thanks, just a buddy of mine. He’s um going through a rough breakup, late night, WAY too much fucking coffee this morning.” In sympathy my co-worker raised his coffee cup in salute and kept on going. Jesus. Time for the hard part. I slipped my DEA windbreaker back on, grabbed the papers from my locker, and took the stairs down three floors to the basement to the Evidence Locker. You might think that in today’s world, evidence we collect is all locked up, catalogued, tracked, and safe and sound. The reality is that pretty much anyone in the building can fucking walk into the evidence room, that there are boxes of drugs, money, guns and other shit that have been set on a bunch of old shelves and forgotten about for years, and that our ‘catalogue’ system is still a manual process of forms, triplicate forms, and more forms, which are then stacked in a box and collected once every couple of weeks before they are mailed - yes mailed - off to a regional office where they get entered into a computer system. That creates a window and while once in a blue moon you would hear a rumor about something going missing, generally it was just misplaced. Yet, Hawk knew all this and more and my next task was very specific. I glanced down the hall and paused to listen over the thumping cadence of my heartbeat. I didn’t have to worry about cameras down here. Budget cuts and IT cluster fuck and all so none of them worked. Now that I was actually doing this I wondered why more shit didn’t go missing? Fuck. I hustled over to the counter where the box of intake forms was and fingered through the pile. I found the one Hawk had told me to get, ran around the corner to a shelf and started scanning for the evidence with the correlating number, no..no...no..no..there is - fuck someone is coming! I eased back into the aisle and quickly stuffed the slip in my pants pocket. Two of my fellow agents were laughing, chatting, and taking their sweet old time. One was dropping something off and mentioned, he would come back later after lunch to box the shit. I peeked around the shelf. Coast was clear. Back to the box. I opened the lid, reached inside and pulled out the plastic evidence bag. It contained several dozen bags of meth all stamped with the Aryan eagle symbol and a small caliber handgun. I unbuttoned my shirt, put the bag of evidence next to my chest, buttoned back up, zipped my coat and put the lid back on the box. I started to step away, then paused, looked at the label on the end of the box, stepped back, and using my fingernail teased the label corner up and SLOWLY peeled the label off. There. No ticket. No label. Just an empty box. Back upstairs I headed towards the back door and almost made it when Paulie grabbed my arm, “Where you going in such a rush man? Got that BIG BREAK? HA! You crack me up. Just like your old man. But seriously. Me and Patty are planning a barbecue on Sunday and….what... yeah sure, will email you the info. AND HEY - ASK YOUR MOM TO MAKE SOME OF THAT MACARONI SALAD OF HERS. YOU CAN’T COOK FOR SHIT BUT HER STUFF IS GOOD. SEE YOU SUNDAY!” Fuck. Luckily I had my shades on and Paulie was not the brightest crayon in the box so I got lucky. I knew now though luck would not get me through this. I had to get smarter, but right now I had to get to my place. I pulled into the space behind my building, took the back steps two at a time, tossed my shades onto the kitchen counter, locked the door, and slumped against the wall. Fuck Christ I did it. I actually did it. I stole from the DEA. “CONGRATULATIONS AGENT,” Hawk said as he filled the doorway between my kitchen and living room. He stepped in followed by two masked men both holding guns. “I SEE YOU DIDN’T GET YOURSELF SHOT OR CAUGHT. THAT’S ALWAYS A GOOD THING, BUT YOU DO NEED TO WORK ON YOUR NERVOUSNESS. IF ANYONE AT YOUR OFFICE WAS ACTUALLY COMPETENT THEY MIGHT HAVE NOTICED. NOW, I BELIEVE YOU HAVE SOMETHING FOR ME?” My mind raced - fuck he had people watching me at the office? He said he did but I figured that was bullshit. Guess better to learn it for sure now and not later. I unzipped my jacket, pulled out the roll of papers, unbuttoned my shirt and hefted out the evidence bag and set it on the counter. Hawk walked over, inspected the bag and smiled when I handed him the evidence form with the box label stuck to the back of it. Hawk opened the bag, dumped a baggy onto the counter, grabbed a spoon out of a drawer, crushed it up, then sorted it into lines. He pulled a bill out of his pocket, handed it to me and said, “SNORT UP AGENT. YOU WILL FIND THAT SNORTING IT PROVIDES A - SHALL WE SAY DIFFERENT RUSH - THAN STICKING IT UP YOUR ASS. GO ON NOW. MY TURN. AH FUCK YES THAT’S GOOD. VERY GOOD. THIS WAS A TEST BATCH OF A NEW STRAIN OF COOK FOR A SPECIAL CLIENT. I REALLY HATED TO SEE IT LOST BECAUSE SOME DUMB JUNKIE WAS TOO STUPID NOT TO GET CAUGHT. SO HARD TO FIND GOOD HELP THESE DAYS. NOW AGENT, IT’S TIME FOR YOU TO GET OUT OF THOSE CLOTHES. I NEED SOME MORE OF THAT ASS AND YOU NEED TO BE REMINDED OF YOUR ROLE - WHICH IS TO BE MY CUM DUMP - ME AND MY GUY’S THAT IS. THEY MISSED OUT ON THE FUN LAST NIGHT SO I TOLD THEM THEY COULD EACH FUCK YOU TODAY. THEY WILL HELP ME TEACH YOU WELL HOW TO SERVE YOUR ARYAN MASTERS AS WE FILL YOU WITH RAW DICK AND POZ CUM.” I gritted my teeth as Hawk’s dick punctured my rectum and a moan escaped my lips. Fucking drugs! I had to focus. He clearly liked knowing he was inflicting pain. Fine. I would let him think I was suffering as much as he wanted while I still figured out a way to kill the prick. Until then, it was time to take one of the pieces off the board. I just so happened to know a dumb junkie and having him removed from the equation would ease some of the pressure on me. The challenge now was how to get Chris arrested by the local police and locked up for more than a few days without the DEA becoming involved or without it being traced back to me. Hawk grunted as he deposited his cum in my ass and when he did, the seeds of a plan took root. STAY TUNED FOR PART 4 (*From the author: If you like the story let me know - post a reply or give a reputation. Thanks to everyone who takes the time to read these stories and for the continued support!)

Part 2: Hawk aggressively pushed his dick into my drug coated ass hole. “OH YES AGENT! THAT ASS IS MUCH TIGHTER THAN YOUR LITTLE ONE’S. YOU ENJOY FUCKING HIM DON’T YOU? NOW AGENT, I WILL SHOW YOU WHAT IT IS LIKE TO BE A DRUGGED UP CUMP DUMP. YOU SHOULD BE HONORED. I HAVE COATED YOUR ASS WITH MY LATEST COOK - MY BEST PRODUCT SO FAR AND TOGETHER WE WILL ENJOY THE RUSH! AND AFTER - WELL AFTER WE SHALL SEE….” My plan to take down the biggest meth cook in the region had failed miserably. My career in the DEA was over! Not only was I chained, naked, in some warehouse but my best friend and fuck buddy Chris had betrayed me and set me up. All future regret and assessment of what had gone wrong were pushed aside as a fresh wave of drug high crashed over me and a new round of searing pain tore through me as Hawk pushed his raw, Aryan dick inside my previously unfucked hole. “YOUR LITTLE ONE WAS RIGHT ABOUT ONE THING AGENT,” Hawk said, “HE SAID YOU NEVER GOT FUCKED. OF COURSE I DIDN’T BELIEVE HIM, BUT LOOK - HERE IS THE PROOF - I HAVE POPPED YOUR CHERRY GOOD. PERFECT! I LOVE NOTHING MORE THAN CONVERTING A NEG BOTTOM AND FILLING THEM WITH MY MUTANT AIDS CUM. YOU KNOW METH DOES THAT RIGHT? IT MUTATES THE VIRUS AND METH AND LIQUOR ARE MY TWO MAIN FOOD GROUPS - ALONG WITH RAW ASS - OK SO THREE FOOD GROUPS. MY POINT AGENT IS THAT IT IS OK TO SCREAM, TO EMBRACE THE PAIN AND FRUSTRATION YOU ARE FEELING, TO FIGHT BACK. IT WON’T DO YOU ANY GOOD OF COURSE. IT’S FAR TOO LATE AGENT - OH YES FAR TOO LATE. YOU FEEL THAT AGENT? THAT’S MY DICK PUMPING YOUR ASS FULL OF MY SPERM. PUSHING IT INTO EVERY RIP IN YOUR ANAL WALL - CREATING MY OWN 4TH REICH OF CUM DUMP FAGGOTS WHO I BRAND WITH MY SUPERIOR DNA. YES - TAKE IT AGENT - TAKE IT ALL!!” I looked down to see Hawk’s fingernails embedded deep into the flesh around my waist, small trickles of red creating meandering streams down my thighs as he dug as hard as he could while cumming inside me. I had to bite my tongue in order not to scream from the burning pain in my ass as he fucked me and bred my hole. I would not give this filth the satisfaction. The brutal pummeling paused like the final throes of battle before an armistice and I heaved a sigh of relief. The meth lord just laughed, “WHAT? YOU THINK I AM DONE? FUCK NO! WE HAVE JUST GOTTEN STARTED. I’M A POZ FUCK BREEDER AND CAN SEED THAT ASS OVER AND OVER. THERE IS NO END AGENT. NO SOLUTION TO YOUR CURRENT PREDICAMENT EXCEPT DOING WHAT I SAY, WHEN I SAY, HOW I SAY. RIGHT NOW, WHAT I SAY IS THAT I AM PACKING THAT SHIT CHUTE LIKE A COLOMBIAN MULE THEN RIDING YOU HARD AND PUTTING YOU AWAY WET. YOU READY TO GET SO FUCKING HIGH YOU CANNOT SAY YOUR A,B,Cs? I MIGHT CONSIDER STOPPING IF YOU HAVE SOMETHING BETTER TO OFFER ME AGENT? DO YOU HAVE SOMETHING BETTER? MAYBE THE LIFE OF YOUR LITTLE ONE? YOUR FRIEND? YOUR LOVER? OH YOU WANT TO SAVE HIM? REALLY? ARE YOU THAT FUCKING STUPID AGENT? YOU KNOW THIS WAS ALL HIS DOING. HE HAD A SIMPLE CHOICE. I’D CUT HIS HANDS OFF FOR STEALING FROM ME OR HE COULD OFFER ME SOMETHING BETTER. SO HERE WE ARE AGENT - YOU ARE THE SOMETHING BETTER AND HE GETS TO KEEP HIS LITTLE FAG HANDS ATTACHED - FOR NOW.” My body shook as Hawk finger fucked me rough, hard, and burrowed trails of meth into my anal lining. I was gasping and drooling like some tweaked out idiot and wanted to just grab my head to try to slow down my thoughts. The handcuffs and chain made that impossible and when the meth cooker shoved his raw dick back up my dry, scabbed hole I barely flinched. Another Aryan load up my ass later and the chain was loosened from the ceiling and I crumpled to the floor. My legs burned, my body was on fire. Was that his AIDs virus of the drugs? The skin on my knees was ripped off entirely as Hawk looped the long chain around his forearm and dragged me behind him like a Sultan’s concubine. I managed to get my feet under me enough to stumble along after him. The hallway swayed back and forth with every step. Hawk stopped, my head was hit hard, I crumpled to the old factory floor as toxic rain poured from the heavens. “FEEL THAT? SMELL THAT? THAT IS GOOD CHEM PISS RIGHT THERE. THAT’S HOW WORTHLESS YOU ARE AGENT - JUST A FUCK PUPPET FOR MY DICK, POZ LOAD, AND A URINAL FOR MY BODILY WASTE. OPEN THAT MOUTH - I SAID FUCKING OPEN IT! GAG ON THAT PISS AGENT - SWALLOW MY SALTY FLUID. YOU ARE MINE NOW - BODY, SOUL, LIFE. ALL MINE. DON’T WORRY. I BOTTLE MY PISS. CHEM MICRO-BREW. EVERY OUNCE I PISS OUT WILL GO INSIDE YOU FROM NOW ON ONE WAY OR THE OTHER.” The pores on my skin opened to allow his Periodic Table of bodily fluids to seep inside me. Hawk was still naked as he dragged me onward. We approached a large, steel door that was guarded by two men in ski masks both dressed in black and holding automatic weapons. Fuck! What had I been thinking? There was no way I could have taken these guys on alone. The door was pulled back, bright fluorescent lights burned my retinas as Hawk dragged me inside, pushed me face first against a steel column, and casually wound the chain between wrists and around the steel. The meth cooker walked over to a large, plexiglass clean room that took up most of the interior of the warehouse space we were in. He hit the intercom, the light turned orange, and as he casually began to put on latex gloves he addressed the dozen or so workers inside - all of whom were men, and all of whom were naked except for their white underwear and face masks. “LISTEN UP FOLKS!” Hawk yelled, “THIS HERE IS MY NEW BEST FRIEND. MR. DEA AGENT. NOW YOU MAY BE WONDERING WHY I BROUGHT HIM IN HERE - RIGHT IN THE FUCKING MIDDLE OF MY COOK - RIGHT IN THE MIDDLE OF MY FUCKING PACKING AND SHIPPING LINE. WELL, MR. DEA AGENT HERE NEEDS TO UNDERSTAND JUST HOW FUCKING TINY AND HELPLESS HE IS. NOW SOME OF YOU KNOW I HAVE A DICK THAT CAN BUST YOUR ASS WIDE OPEN. WELL I JUST PLANTED TWO HOT LOADS - HEAR ME - TWO FUCKING LOADS UP THIS DEA AGENT’S ASS. I POPPED HIS CHERRY GOOD. NOW AS A TOKEN OF MY APPRECIATION I WILL LEAVE HIM HERE FOR A WHILE. LET HIM STEW IN MY JUICES AND OF COURSE, LET HIM TAKE WHATEVER DICK ANY OF YOU FUCKERS WANT TO STICK UP HIS ASS. YOU HEAR ME? WHEN I COME BACK I EXPECT TO SEE HIS CHEEKS COVERED WITH SO MUCH POWDER I’LL THINK WE’RE IN THE ALPS AND I ALSO EXPECT - NOW PAY FUCKING CLOSE ATTENTION - I WILL ALSO EXPECT TO SEE PROOF THAT HIS ASS HAS BEEN FUCKED AND BRED BY YOUR RAW DICKS.” I watched as Hawk walked past me towards another door that was guarded by two more men with guns. He paused, pulled an industrial apron off a wall hook, slipped it over his head, then gave me wave and said, “KEEP THAT ASS FILLED AND WET FOR ME MR. DEA AGENT. I’LL BE BACK AS SOON AS I COMPLETE THIS COOK AND THEN YOU AND I SHALL DISCUSS OUR FUTURE.” Stay Tuned for Part 3 (*From the author: If you like the story let me know - post a reply or give a reputation. Thanks to everyone who takes the time to read these stories and for the continued support!)

Meth Lab Fuck Down: My phone buzzed. This was the text I had been waiting for. Tonight would be my big break. Had I crossed a few lines to get here? Yeah, sure, but once I made the takedown of the biggest meth cooker in the Mid-Atlantic region, no one would give a shit about that - if they even ever found out. I was careful, wicked careful, and knew how to cover my tracks. Fuck I learned from the best. My dad, one of my uncles and the guy next door were all Drug Enforcement Agents (DEA) and growing up that’s all I ever wanted to be. It was my destiny. Tonight was destiny too and in addition to making my career it would give me the way to get Chris out of the cluster fuck of a life he had made for himself. Chris was the son of the DEA agent who lived next door to us when I was a kid, and my best friend. All my childhood memories involved Chris and because his dad and mine were often gone, Chris was at my house more than he was at his. We were inseparable and when we became teens we learned the ins and outs of life together - always together - that is until he got caught up in drugs. Finding Chris on the back porch lying on his side, drooling, doped out, and a fucking mess broke my heart and no matter what I did or said, Chris would never stay clean for long. After graduation, for our 18th birthdays, we went camping and the tent had barely been set up before Chris had shot up, or snorted up, and was high as shit. Well that just pissed me off so when it came time to crash and time for us to fuck I was not gentle. I fucked him as hard as I could and let out all my anger, frustration, and disappointment into his ass - along with two huge loads of cum. Chris took it all and begged for more and that’s how we spent our camping trip, with him high and me fucking the hell out of him over and over. Not much has changed the past several years. I went to college, got my degree, and followed my dad into the DEA. Chris continued to get deeper and deeper into drugs; his dad kicked him out; but I still looked out for him. I always made sure he had a spot at my place to crash, food, a little cash and in return I fucked him. Hard and rough and raw. I didn’t know if Chris fucked with other guys or not. I didn’t. Never even considered it, but with Chris it was the way things were. Did I ever feel guilty about it when he was fucked up? No. I had dealt with that stupid shit that first night. It just was. We both enjoyed it and in the midst of all the crazy shit it felt normal. Of course Chris was always grateful for the food and place to crash and kept promising he would pay me back, but until then, his ass was mine. My phone buzzed again. It was Chris. “DEAL’S GOING DOWN TONIGHT BY THE OLD PIER. MEET ME THERE AT 11:00.” My heart raced. Chris was my CI - my Confidential Informant. He had admitted one night he had gotten mixed up with a guy named Hawk, who I knew from my DEA briefings was reportedly the biggest meth cooker in the entire region. Every time I had Chris on his stomach and was fucking the shit out of him, I pumped him for info too. What was Hawk’s real name? Where did he hang? Who were his guys? Who did he sell to? And more. Chris seemed to be willing to talk, and even more willing when I would hand over a baggy of powder or a few needles filled with dope. I cared about Chris sure, but knew he was going to get fucked up no matter what, so why not help him out and help me too? He was always chatty when he was high and plus I loved feeling his ass open up for me and milk my cum out. There was nothing better than fucking his ass when he was high out of his God damned mind. His hole was wet, silky, and just sucked my dick and cum. Maybe it was seeing what drugs had done to Chris and his family is why I had never tried them. Yeah I was around the shit all the time, but had never been tempted, not even when Chris would leave shit laying around. Just wasn’t me. At 8:45 p.m. I was down at the old pier, peering between a rusted dumpster and the chimney of an old factory. Chris had told me before that he often did pickups for Hawk where he would deliver Hawk’s meth to someone and then meet Hawk at some out of the way place to give him the cash. During one night when Chris was super high and I had already pumped a load into him, he confessed that he had lied and that he always met Hawk at the place where he cooked the meth. I couldn’t fucking believe it! Instead of being angry I gave Chris a reward - another nut sack full of cum in his punk hole and that’s when he agreed to text me when the next deal went down. A light rain had begun to fall, but that was OK. I had on my DEA windbreaker; my gun was still in my holster, and my phone in my hand so I could quickly call in backup. Chris said it was only ever him and Hawk and no one else. Yet, just in case, I wanted to be prepared. However my plan was take Hawk myself. I needed this. Over the past few hours I had seen only one person go in the door - the man I assumed was Hawk - my prey. My watch showed 11:01. I heard a cough and saw Chris ambling down the alley towards a dimly lit door. He had on the same white shirt he was wearing two days ago when I last fucked him. I had tried to get him to spend the night after I bred him, but he was too wired and bolted as soon as I was done. Chris had flipped up the collar on his shirt I guess in an effort to try to stay dry. Little good that did. It just made him look like some cartoon character - all skin, bones, a head too big for his long limbs. He stopped at the door, knocked, waited, the door opened, Chris said something, then started to walk inside the old factory. My breath caught in my throat. Chris stopped, quickly glanced side to side and behind himself, then bent down like he was tying his shoe. That’s when he was supposed to stuff a wad of paper towel into the door latch hole so that the door would not click shut behind him. I waited until my watch said 11:09. I scanned the alley and confirmed no one was around. My cold, wet fingers found the snap on my holster and with a small click, I released it and eased my gun out. One more check to confirm I was alone and I quickly slid along the brick wall to the factory door Chris had gone in. At the door I paused, waited, listened. I never questioned that Chris would not have done what I had asked. I never even considered the idea that he might have betrayed me. I should have. The factory door eased open on well-oiled hinges. I quickly stepped inside out of the casting of the light. I let my eyes adjust to the darker interior as I tried to calm my breathing and steady my hand. This was it. I replayed in my mind the various scenarios I expected and in each and every one I knew I would have Hawk in handcuffs very soon. I eased my way to the right, following the rough outline of the exterior wall. I heard no voices, saw no movement, but wanted to be sure. The darkness embraced me as I moved, silent, and sure. I continued to edge my way around the outer wall until I came to a cut in - a long, dark hallway with a faint light at the end and the distant echo of voices. I checked around me once more - all was still and silent. I crept down the hall, the light grew brighter. A door was open, an angry voice was saying, “YOU KNOW WHAT HAPPENS TO YOU WHEN YOU TRY TO STEAL FROM ME?” I quickly peered through the crack and saw Chris on his knees and a big man - Hawk - standing over him. Compared to Chris, Hawk was a fucking monster. A good foot taller, a good 100 pounds heavier, and all the Aryan tattoos on his forehead and arms only added to the sinister monster look. Yeah this asshole was going down and Chris would be forever grateful. I eased my boot onto the edge of the door and gently pulled my foot back, slowly, to give myself enough space to slip into the room and take Hawk by surprise. BAM! MY WORLD WENT DARK. I winced trying to decide which was worse: the splitting pain at the back of my skull or the slicing pain in my wrists. I moaned. I eased my eyes open and turned my head, which caused a new round of nausea and pain. My wrists were handcuffed and a large chain was threaded between them and connected to a pulley that dangled from the ceiling. I had been stripped naked and was hanging from the chain with my feet barely touching the floor. I assumed from the hot wetness still trickling down my neck that I had been hit and hit hard in the back of the head and that’s what had knocked me out. God damn it! My ears then picked up the moans and groans and sounds of carnal pleasure. I leaned back a little and looked to my right. There was a man - Hawk - naked and fucking Chris who was bent over facing my way. Chris raised his head, closed his eyes and smiled in total fucking ecstasy like he would smile when I had my dick up his ass. He opened his eyes, smirked, closed his eyes again as Hawk hit just the right spot up in his ass, and Chris started bouncing his hips up and down like his hole was in full orgasm. My mouth dropped open. Shit! “GET THE FUCK OFF MY DICK!” Hawk spat as he shoved Chris off his still hard dick. Chris tumbled onto his knees and looked up at Hawk with awe, admiration, and adoration - disgusting! Hawk kicked him in the ribs, “WHAT THE FUCK YOU WAITING FOR? YOU GOT DELIVERIES TO MAKE AND DON’T FUCKING SHOW BACK UP HERE UNTIL I TEXT YOU. NOW GET!” A low growl rumbled in my chest. For Hawk or Chris I don’t know. Clearly I had been set up and clearly Chris was Hawk’s lover or whatever too, but it was the way he treated him. I loved Chris - in my own way - and always did right by him so seeing someone treat him like that just fucking pissed me off. I promised myself right then I would kill Hawk. Fuck the take down! Hawk picked up a plate of crystal meth – bright white lines of powder - that was sitting on the couch and sniffed a few lines using a tattered bill. He wiped his nose, licked his lips, casually sauntered over to me with his monster dick swinging back and forth and when he stopped he said, “WELL, WELL, WELL, AGENT. WE FINALLY MEET AT LAST.” This man - this drug dealer - this filth of humanity that stood before me curled my stomach. I wanted to lash out, but held my tongue as my brain worked to figure a way to escape. Hawk smiled, licked his right index finger, rubbed it around in the plate of white then slid it between the flesh of his gums and lips and hummed as the burning kicked in. His blue eyes flashed open, the pupils distant pricks of black as he eyed me up and down, “YES, I CAN SEE WHY YOUR LITTLE ONE IS SO PROTECTIVE OF YOU - ENAMORED IF YOU WILL. BUT TRULY NOW. YOU AND I BOTH KNOW IT IS NOT REAL. EVEN THE GRATITUDE IS FALSE. YOUR LITTLE ONE IS ONLY A BITCH KIPPE - FAG - FOR YOU BECAUSE YOU ARE NOTHING MORE THAN A MEANS TO AN END. I ON THE OTHER HAND AM THE MASTER. THE SUPERIOR SPECIMEN OF MANHOOD. JUST LOOK AT EVEN HOW MY DICK - STILL SOFT - IS FAR BIGGER THAN YOURS. DO YOU WANT TO FEEL IT? I THINK YOU DO - I THINK YOU MUST!” I twisted and jerked as Hawk stepped behind me. The heat from his body like a hot furnace on a cold winter’s afternoon. I heard the wet slurp of his mouth, then the piercing press of a pointed finger and nail at my sphincter. I tried to adjust my footing but the give of the chain snapped back, sending me onto his coated dart, “YES, SEE? YOU WILL LEARN WHY YOUR LITTLE ONE BEGS FOR MY DICK - BEGS FOR THE FEEL OF MY FORESKIN SLIDING BACK AS I POUND HIS ASS - BEGS FOR ME TO POZ HIS HOLE AND FILL HIM UP WITH MY AIDS. FRANKLY I AM SURPRISED YOU HAVE NOT TESTED POZ YET, BUT MAYBE BECAUSE YOU ARE ON PREP? OR JUST MAYBE BECAUSE YOU HAVE ALWAYS BEEN A TOP? WELL, WE SHALL TAKE CARE OF THAT.” The clear toll of porcelain on concrete, and the pause of his finger assault on my ass, let me know he had set the plate of drugs on the floor. I wanted to beg and plead for him to stop. To tell him I never did drugs. To scream that I was not a bottom and didn’t get fucked. To tell him I was there only for Chris. All plans for trying to talk my way out of it quickly vanished though. My body arched, my veins pumped my blood faster and faster as my heart raced, my skin was scored bloody as Hawk aggressively pushed his dick into my drug coated ass hole. “OH YES AGENT! THAT ASS IS MUCH TIGHTER THAN YOUR LITTLE ONE’S. YOU ENJOY FUCKING HIM DON’T YOU? NOW AGENT, I WILL SHOW YOU WHAT IT IS LIKE TO BE A DRUGGED UP CUMP DUMP. YOU SHOULD BE HONORED. I HAVE COATED YOUR ASS WITH MY LATEST COOK - MY BEST PRODUCT SO FAR AND TOGETHER WE WILL ENJOY THE RUSH! AND AFTER - WELL AFTER WE SHALL SEE….” (*From the author: If you like the story let me know - post a reply or give a reputation. Thanks to everyone who takes the time to read these stories and for the continued support!)

Part 5: Action and CUT! - Sunday was checkout day according to shadow man. My week being a hotel hoe was done. He had said, “When you nothing but an infected bag of AIDs and a fucked out whore, I sell you off like a puppy mill and then the next fag pussy comes along, rinse and repeat.” I was then surprised when another man came into the room and after making me bend over, scratching my hole bloody, then asking my name, when I asked his he had said, “MY NAME IS THE STEALTH BOMBER.” Before I could process what that meant, the anonymous man grabbed my hips and started power fucking me with the intent to breed as he said, “FUCKING BITCH BOTTOM. I’M TOLD THAT’S ALL YOU’VE BEEN ALL WEEK - A STUPID CUNT LETTING ANY MAN WHO WANTS TO, TO CUM IN YOU. WELL AS FAR AS I AM CONCERNED, YOU ARE STILL NEG BECAUSE THOSE MEN HAVE NOTHING ON ME AND MY HIGHLY VENOMOUS CUM. DUMB CUNT YOU’RE MINE NOW. I GOT THE LAST DROPS OF YOUR NEG BLOOD FOR MY TREASURE CHEST. I BET YOU DIDN’T REALIZE A THICK 9-INCH DICK COULD DO SO MUCH DAMAGE TO YOUR ASS? I’VE HAD LOTS OF PRACTICE AND FRANKLY AM QUITE THE EXPERT AT KNOWING JUST HOW TO ANGLE MY DICK INTO YOUR ASS LINING TO MAKE IT TEAR, BLEED, AND GET INFECTED. USUALLY FOR STUPID CUNTS LIKE YOU I ENJOY THE HUNT, THE SET UP, AND MAKING YOU FEEL SAFE, SECURE, AND THAT THERE IS NOTHING TO FEAR AND NO RISK. I RELISH THE FEELING OF THAT ASS RING SUDDENLY CLENCHING IN EXTREME FEAR ONCE YOU REALIZE WHAT IS TRULY HAPPENING - THAT I AM GOING TO BREED AND INFECT THAT CUNT. MY MAN ACID WILL BURN YOU - MARK YOU - DISFIGURE YOUR INSIDES. BEG ME TO PULL OUT! BEG ME NOT TO SHOOT MY CUM IN THAT CUNT! BEG ME TO STOP!” All my pleas and begging were ignored and as the stranger filled me with his promised AIDs nutt, the weight of the past week all crashed down on me. I was basically sober for the first time in several days and being bred raw, anonymously, and by a top who bragged about how he was going to infect me made me sort of lose it. “THAT’S RIGHT YOU FUCKING BUG CHASING FAGGOT. MY LOAD IS LIKE OATMEAL AND WILL STICK TO YOUR INSIDES, THEN IT BECOMES A TOTAL INVADER AS MY VIRUS BURROWS LIKE A DRILL INTO YOUR GUT LINING. ONE BY ONE YOUR IMMUNE SYSTEM CELLS WILL BE DESTROYED UNTIL THERE IS NOTHING LEFT BUT THE DRY, WHISP HUSK OF A SHELL OF WHAT USED TO BE A MAN - WHAT USED TO BE A WORTHLESS CUNT.” The more I shook, pleaded, whimpered, and regretted my decisions, the more he fucked me. The Stealth Bomber then paused, yanked his dick back, laughed like the Joker in a Batman movie and proclaimed, “YES! THAT CUNT IS GOOD AND BLOODY AND SUCKING ALL OF MY VIRUS RIGHT UP. FLIP OVER AND PULL THEM ANKLES BACK - WAIT TUCK THAT DICK AND KEEP YOUR THIGHS TOGETHER.ALL I WANT TO SEE IS THE PUFFY PINK CUNT I’M INFECTING SO MY PANTS ZIPPER CAN SCRAPE THE REST OF THE TOP LAYERS OF SKIN RIGHT OFF!. GOOD. GOOD. I’M SCRAPING YOUR ASS ALL UP, READY TO INFECT YOU AGAIN. FEEL MY OATMEAL CUM FILL YOU UP? STICKING TO YOUR GUT WALLS? GLAD I SAVED MY LOAD UP ALL WEEK JUST TO POZ THAT ASS!” The Stealth Bomber finished his business. My ass burned both from his nails and his load. He opened the door, said something to my guard, then came back in. I was not sure what to do so I sat up on the edge of the bed and waited. Shadow man came in, “See? I can tell from your face man you enjoyed that ass. Told you I had found a good one and broke him just like you said you needed.” The Stealth Bomber replied, “Well my flight for Germany leaves tomorrow morning. I’ve got some fresh refugees being offered by one of my contacts there, so let me think on it a bit. True, that cunt is good and I already have a buyer. A businessman in Johannesburg, South Africa. Rich as fuck and has what we shall call ‘exotic’ sexual tastes. He also has a dick that would make you look small my friend and while there are of course white cunts to be had there, he likes the all-American brand. Also of course, he needs someone that cannot be traced and someone he can use as he wishes - willing or not - with no worry for possible legal repercussions. A true lost boy. You can confirm that he has been erased?” Shadow man grunted in disgust, “Fuck man. You know me. I handle my business. Yeah, whole set up. Police reports filed, warrants issued, sightings called in from Jersey to Detroit. I may not traffic the volume you do and shit, but I know what the fuck I’m doing.” The Stealth Bomber just chuckled and dryly replied, “I’m sure. I can have his passport and visa delivered to you first thing in the morning. It’s a private flight out Teterboro and he will be one of several pieces of cargo on board for the first leg of the journey - that is unless you can make me a better offer?” Shadow man exhaled whatever he was smoking, walked over and leaned against me, pressed my head hard against his thighs with his right hand while he unzipped his pants with his left. The overwhelming scent of his raw dick rushed out, and I instinctively did my best blind man impression, felt my way up, reached in, fished his dick out and eagerly began sucking him as he continued this business meeting. “What do you mean about a better offer?” shadow man asked, “I do like this one. As you can see - we’ve sort of bonded and that pink pussy took everything I threw at it this week.” The Stealth Bomber’s tone was all business, “Well a deal is not always a deal. I have another offer on the table. A silent partner so to speak who wants the benefit of some ‘lost’ talent, without getting his hands dirty or directly engaging. Of course I thought of you. He has certain business interests and wants to leverage them to satisfy a section of the dark web economy and needs a fuck hole bottom who can be used for ‘anything goes’, extreme, hardcore, or taboo porn - all sold at a premium price in limited edition sets, delivered directly to the customer in multiple formats, but never on the web where it can be hacked, traced, stolen, or copied. It’s amazing that with all the paid for and free porn all over the internet there are still some huge gaps in the offerings.” Shadow man was clearly interested as his dick swelled, drooled across my tongue, and he pushed my head down a little further enjoying the sounds of my gagging. “Tell me more,” he said. The Stealth Bomber went on, “For example. Try to find a good video of raw, black dick fucking white ass through a gloryhole no-holds-barred? There’s honestly not much on the market and what exists is clearly actors, or vintage, or just not that exciting. BBC tag team sessions on an ass are all pretty boy types or guys who might have big dicks, but once they open their mouth these ‘supposed tops’ sound like women. What about the street dude who just needs a hole to bang and breed? Not out there in the marketplace. On the chemical side there are a few sites with quick shots of someone self injecting etc… but then what? Intense, realistic stealth videos is another category from both the top and bottom’s perspective. There are also few, truly big dicked tops fucking on film. Most porn films add a couple inches so some of those “stars” who say they got 11, when in reality it is more like 9. Do the ruler/yard stick test on film as fucking proof. Document the before and after of an ass cunt being used by a TRUE big dick. The next level to that is the real men with true freak of nature sized dicks fucking ass. Those dudes that can only get ass when they rape it because no one can, or will willingly take them. From there the extreme list goes on from K9, to homeless, to real rape fuck.” Shadow man’s breath was quickening as was the thrusting of his hips as he listened to all this and pictured in his mind all the filthy shit. He asked, “How extreme? Choke out? Gang rape? Bloody hole?” The Stealth Bomber must have nodded as shadow man exclaimed, “DAMN YO! I GOT ALL THAT - FUCK THIS FAG PUSSY DONE MOST OF THAT THIS JUST WEEK ON MY WATCH AND MY DIME. WEEK FUCKING #1! THAT ASS IS FUCKING THIRSTY FOR ROUGH, RAW DICK ESPECIALLY WHEN HE’S SPUN OUT. WHAT TYPE OF CASH WE TALKING?” Shadow man was holding my head in a firm grip now as the Stealth Bomber shared some numbers and other points of the potential deal. He let go of my head and stepped off, “No, no, no, that silky tongue ain’t getting this nutt. It’s going right up in that hoe bitch hole.” He then lit up a new smoke and asked, “Man what about the hood. You know I don’t let the traffic see my face. Fuck, some of the homies and shit don’t care, but I’m careful, right? That’s why we do business?” The Stealth Bomber laughed, “My client is not paying to see someone’s face and as far as I am concerned, he can be the new Man in the Iron Mask.” When the only response was a, “huh?” he continued, “Let’s just say you can leave the hood on him 24/7 if you want to and it could actually be a marketing point, another level of the extreme that these videos could be known for. However, the buyers would have to have some assurance this was the same person you understand. So maybe a very unique or specific tattoo, or even body modification. I leave that to you - the potential owner of this ‘property’ - if we come terms to figure out the final solution. You are a smart man and I know you can find a solution to that issue that will satisfy all involved. I would however note, just for general hygienic purposes, that you either find a place, time, or someone with whom the hood might be removed on a regular basis or have someone that can check and confirm it is not causing any unforeseen problems. It would be unfortunate to begin this little venture only to have the main asset not be able to generate the products needed. Finally, people can tell when you try to use a different face to the body. While some of the videos do not require head/face shots, even just in passing having to worry about that sort of editing would increase costs and cut into your profits.” “Fuck that,” shadow man said as he jammed his dick back down my throat. “I’ll figure it out and will call you back within a couple of hours.” The Stealth Bomber left, shadow man grabbed my arm and made me stand up. He spun me around and crossed my arms behind my back and gripped my wrists hard. He reared back and pierced my hole with his needy dick, “YOU HEAR THAT HOE? YOU’RE GOING TO BE STAYING RIGHT HERE TO BE MY FUCKING CASH COW. BE THE FUCKING HOE BITCH THAT I KNOW YOU ARE. HAVE TO TELL YOU THOUGH, THE FUCKER SCARES EVEN ME. HE’S ONE OF THE BIGGEST HUMAN TRAFFICKERS ON THE EAST COAST. LAWYER OR SOME SHIT I GUESS AND TOTAL FREAK! DON’T MATTER NOW. YOU’LL BE MINE. RUNNING HOES IS TOO MUCH FUCKING DRAMA, BUT THIS - THIS IS REALLY LIKE SLINGING THE DOPE EXCEPT THE DOPE IS YOUR WHITE ASS. THAT CASH PUSSY MAKING MY DICK BRICK!” Shadow man was focused on blowing his nutt up my ass and had my arms pulled behind my back in a big X and almost out of my sockets he was so excited, but I kept asking questions about where I would live, what it all meant, what sort of videos, when I could take the hood off, could I have more drugs, and more. My arms were released, I got a couple good whacks to the side of the head as shadow man snarled, “FUCK YOU TALK TOO DAMN MUCH. TIME TO SHOOT YOU UP AND MAKE YOU A SLOPPY HOE AGAIN WITH A LIL SHIT TALKING, NECK GRABBING, SLOW STROKING, AND DEEP DIGGING. OH DAMN WAIT - I GOT A BETTER WAY TO KILL SOME BRAIN CELLS. TIME TO GET ANOTHER HOMIE BACK UP HERE AND DO A LITTLE SAMPLE SHOT FOR THE MAN!” There was a pause, shadow man dialed someone on his cell, “YO STRANGLER - WHAT UP MAN? REMEMBER THAT HOE I HAD THIS PAST WEEK THAT YOU CAME THROUGH AND USED AND ABUSED? YOU LIKED THAT PINK PUSSY RIGHT? WELL PLANS CHANGED. LONG TERM RESIDENCY IS HAPPENING WITH A BUSINESS PROPS AND I GOT SOME BENJAMINS IF YOU WILL LET ME TAPE YOU DOING YOUR THING BUT 100% REAL - FAG WILL BE SOBER AS SHIT, NIGHT VISION SHIT. THIEF BREAKS IN INTO HOTEL ROOM, THEN TOTAL TIED UP AND BOUND AND RAPE SHIT LIKE YOU LIKE. YOU HAVE YOUR MASK AND GLOVES ON YOU KNOW SO YOU CAN’T BE ID’ED AND ALL THAT.” A short while later was the first time the leather hood had been off my head in days. It felt strange and unnerving somehow. I was sober, scared, and shaking. I needed some drugs. The room was dark as sin. Shadow man and his camera were set up behind a ‘blind’ of some sort in the corner. While I could see a faint, blue glow near the top and could smell the pipe smoke and hear the whispers and flicks of the lighters, I could not see who was back there. I knew better than to try to look. I had a part to play. I curled on the bed in a fetal position, hugging a pillow to my stomach, facing where the camera was with my back to the door. SNICK - the quiet shift of the hotel room door, then an almost imperceptible stream of light that came and went as the door closed. The loud CLICK of a lighter as the thief/intruder cautiously made his was into the room. He stopped. My heart beat loudly in my ears. CLICK - CLICK - HISS - CLICK - HISS - I could hear his lighter and the inhale of breath as whatever he smoked in his pipe took the fire. READY! - the dark presence was close now. My skin dimpled with goosebumps. SET! - the intruder’s breath was hot on my skin as two gloved hands closed around my neck. ACTION! (*From the author: If you like the story let me know - post a reply or give a reputation. Thanks to everyone who takes the time to read these stories and for the continued support!) (To read the adventures of the Stealth Bomber, go to: https://breeding.zone/topic/17169-the-stealth-bomber-episode-1-welcome-to-the-poz-team/)

Bean Bag Toss: Isaiah’s dick spurted and my ass slurped up his POZ load. Just like the night before, he rolled off me and as soon as he did his brother Zeke slammed back in. “What’s that now boy?” Zeke asked, “How many loads you got in there. One from Walt. One from me. One from my little brother. Good thing we in the country boy as you’re just a fucking AIDS pig for your daddies aren’t you.” I gave a little snort and grunt and Zeke laughed. “TAKE MY AIDS DICK BOY - SHOW DADDY HOW HUNGRY THAT HOLE. YOU A HUNGRY HOLE? FUCK THAT’S WARM AND SLICK AND TIGHT. YOU GOING TO OBEY YOUR DADDY? FUCK WHO I TELL YOU? DO WHAT I TELL YOU? GOOD BOY - THAT’S A GOOD BOY - HERE YOU GO BOY - SOME MORE DADDY’S AIDS COTTON CUM CANDY JUST FOR YOU!” Back out at the little table Zeke lit up a joint and chuckled as I crawled underneath. I couldn’t help it. I had to feel his dick. Touch it. Taste it. Savor that POZ drip he seemed to constantly produce. “Come up now,” Zeke said, “Here, swallow this pill. Don’t matter what it is, just do as daddy orders. Good boy. I need to wake up sleeping beauty back there and while I do, you get dressed. We need to run an errand.” Isaiah was still groaning and growling when I followed Zeke out of the camper trailer. He had on his tattered camo baseball cap, but had put on a clean pair of pants and fresh t-shirt. The carnival was crowded and in full swing and I could hear laughter, voices, music, and the whirr of rides and activity as we made our way towards the back fence and into a closed off parking lot. Zeke stopped beside a cobalt blue car and gingerly rubbed the spotless hood. “This here’s my baby,” he said affectionately. I’ve never been a car guy and just said, “It looks nice.” Zeke looked at me, pinched the unfiltered cigarette he was smoking between his thumb and forefinger, “Get over here boy,” he said. I walked around, he put his left arm around my shoulder and bent forward, “This is not NICE - this - this fucking car is a God damn American work of art. A 1966 Chevy Impala. Get in.” The car rumbled to life, the tires spit gravel as we pulled out, and Zeke smiled as we hit the road. “Few things in life make your daddy happy boy. Weed. Beer. Some good ass to breed and POZ. And my baby here. Fuck listen to that purr - sort of sounds like when I hit that prostate just right.” I rubbed my hands on the leather seats, the chrome fixtures, and laughed as the wind whipped through the open window. Zeke reached over and patted my thigh, “You feeling good yet?” I nodded. He said, “Yeah that’s the Molly kicking in.” We got on the highway and went several miles before Zeke pulled off into a rest area. He parked down near the far end by a big semi trailer. There were a few others cars there, but none close. He walked around to the driver’s side door and pounded on it. He pounded again. A small light shone inside the cab, a man peered out, gave a quick wave, then ducked back in. Zeke leaned against the side of the tractor, unzipped his pants, “Get on your fucking knees boy and suck my dick.” I didn’t bother to stop when I heard the door open to the cab and a man mumble as he stepped down the ladder. “Christ Zeke,” he said, “You trying to get yourself arrested or some shit? Doing that right out here where those cars going by can see? What if someone walks this way.” Zeke just laughed, “Well then they’ll see my boy pleasing his daddy. Now boy, I bet old Kennie here’s got a bladder full of trucker piss. Open that mouth and swallow that shit for him like I taught you.” Kennie started to object, but with a, “Oh hell,” unzipped his jeans, fished out a nice mushroom headed dick, and let me have it. Kennie sighed as he finished pissing, stepped back, “Damn, look what you gone and done now.” Zeke just laughed, “Oh don’t worry about that none Kennie. I know how much you like those sloppy truck stop whore cunts so I made sure the boy’s ass pussy is good and wet for you. Go on now, climb up in there and make my buddy here feel good. I got me a joint to smoke. Go on now - and Kennie - trust me - you’ll enjoy that raw ass and you’ll feel much more like handling business once your mind can focus.” Zeke laughed as I smiled and felt a rush of horniness wash over me. There was something fucking hot about this AIDs daddy just pimping me out to other men. Kennie had one of those extra big sleepers on his tractor, one that you can actually stand up in, with a pretty good size bed. He zipped the closure shut, quickly got undressed, and I licked my lips at this hairy daddy trucker. His dick was a damn good size. He reached into a cubby hole and pulled out this weird pear shaped black thing that he slid down over his dick then tucked his balls through it was well. It looked like a cock ring, but with an extra shelf on the front that his balls rested on, which pushed them almost right up beside his shaft. I pulled my shorts off and climbed up on the bed. Kennie climbed up behind me, laid on my back, rolled back and forth a little as his dick hardened, then slid a couple fingers up my ass. “Yeah, you’re kinda slick, but I like a dripping wet pussy. Hold still.” With the light still on he reached into another cubby, pulled out a dirty white bottle with a long tip on the end and I squirmed when he jammed the tip in and squeezed. It was cool, and made me feel like I had to go. Kennie slid right up my ass with no problem. SQUIRT SQUIRT SQUIRT SQUIRT. My ass made sloppy wet noises every time he thrust inside me. Kennie kept rolling forward with his thrusts, trying to stretch my ass chute and then I realized the more he rolled back and forth, the more his cock ring/platform thingy was pushing his balls down beside his shaft. Kennie pushed harder, rolled, thrusted, pushed, then leaned a bit on his right side and thrust and PLOP - his right ball squeezed and slipped inside my ass ring. Kennie grabbed my shoulders, pushed, rolled, thrusted, then leaned a bit on his left side and PLOP - his left ball slipped in. Whatever discomfort Kennie might have felt must have quickly passed as we were both moaning in pleasure. “FUCK ME DADDY TRUCKER - FUCK ME!” I begged. Kennie slid his hands off my shoulders and covered my mouth, “Shhh, no talking. Just moan baby - moan for me - fucking your wet cunt - fucking you good. Fucking your wet sloppy cunt. That’s it baby - spread those legs open, let me hit that G spot - fucking your cunt baby - fucking it - fucking it - HELL YEAH YOU MAKING ME SHOOT BABY - SHOOTING IN YOU GOOD - WHEW - YES!” Kennie’s balls pulsed and throbbed as he bred me and it was the strangest sensation like having two little earthquakes happening inside me. Slowly, ever so slowly, his dick softened and out slid his shaft, deflated balls, and a cascade of whatever he had squirted up my hole for lube. I started to apologize for making a mess, but Kennie, now looking ashamed and embarrassed, just shook his head and said, “We best get back outside and get you and Zeke on your way.” Back in the parking lot, Zeke and Kennie spoke in hushed tones. Kennie unlocked a small compartment on the side of the tractor and pulled out a red, plastic cooler with a white top and handed it to Zeke. The car trunk was opened, they stood behind it a minute and concluded whatever business they had to do as I wandered a bit amongst the small trees, and looked to the south as lightning lit up the sky. I hustled back to the car as Zeke motioned me over, we both got in, got back on the highway and a couple miles down pulled off, turned, crossed over, and headed back the way we had come to the carnival. “Did you have fun? Zeke asked, “Did you like taking dick like that for your daddy? I don’t know if Kennie’s got a POZ load or not, but I know he has fucked every truck stop whore between hear and Sioux Falls and Chicago and Denver. He usually hauls for the Hormel plant and we keep in touch as he’s a good runner for me. Keeps me restocked on whatever shipments I need and well, today your ass was just a tidy thanks.” I looked over at Zeke as some of the ash from his cigarette blew off and sailed into the back of the car. “Fuck Jesus,” he swore as he swiped at his shirt. I laughed then asked, “Can we pull over a minute. I think I need to go.” Zeke eased the car off the highway shoulder and I barely had gotten out before I had to squat and let loose. Christ, whatever Kennie had shot into my ass for lube sure didn’t want to wait around. Zeke tossed me some napkins from the glove box, and they were more than enough to get me set. We pulled into the gravel lot just as the first pelts of rain began to fall. Thunder boomed, lightning peeled, lights flickered and the wind gusted. The rain came quick and fast and Zeke just laughed as we both ran for his camper trailer. He threw the door opened, bounded in, me close behind. Who the fuck were they? Isaiah was sitting at his normal spot at the table. Across from him, holding a hand of cards, was a guy who looked about my age, but that was the only normal thing about him. He had a number of colorful tattoos up and down his arms, his neck, half his face and scalp. Two silver metal spikes protruded from his forehead like little horns and his ear lobes hung low, stretched by large, black spikes. His eyebrows, the bridge of his nose, cheeks, lip, and more were pierced too. Fucking hell! I looked from him to the other stranger who was standing but hunched over. Isaiah was big; this guy was a giant and all muscle with biceps as thick as my thighs. Zeke shook himself, grabbed a t-shirt off a pile of clothes in the corner, started to towel himself dry and said, “That there’s Mr. Montana and that’s Rico - Rico Suave. Two more from the freak show.” Rico turned and smiled and showed a line of teeth sharpened into fangs and I gasped a little when he stuck out his tongue - it was split and forked like a snake. I hate snakes. Zeke laughed, “Come on boy. Let them finish their game. Come on in back and let’s dry off and get a smoke. Montana? Come in back with us. I got something you may like.” The three of us got through half a joint and I had popped a pill when the trailer shook. The storm had moved in full force and the windows rattled and rain pelted the roof and Zeke left out with Isaiah and Rico to make sure things were shut down and buttoned up. They had barely left the trailer before Mr. Montana stood up, unzipped his dick and told me to squat over his shaft and sit on it if I wanted a good dicking. Although he insisted on wearing a condom, I decided I had to have that donkey dick as it was so big and my ass was so hungry. I agreed to take it covered and with some extra spurts of lube we were off to the races. I then wondered where the fuck they made condoms that size. He was a good deal bigger than the brother daddies and it hurt like a son of a bitch going in, but he didn’t let that stop him in the least. Before long I had him balls deep and while I tried to pull off when the guys came back, Mr. Mountain held my hips firm and bounced me up and down his rod. Zeke just laughed when he pulled the curtain back and slipped into the bedroom with us. He stripped, dried off, lit a new joint, and sat on the edge of the bed, sharing the joint between us, and jacking his dick as he watched Mr. Mountain dig me out. While the curtain was closed, it clearly sounded from the grunts and noise coming from the front that Rico and Isaiah had decided to forgo the card game too. I felt a little jealous. Didn’t have a right to I guess, but I did. Once again Zeke seemed like he could read my mind. “Oh, don’t worry about that,” he said as he waved the lit joint towards the front, “It’s just a little fun between friends - ain’t that right Montana? You see Rico is Montana’s boy. Now Montana, let my boy here get on his hands and knees so you can really power fuck his ass. Be the fuck God you are - make my boy praise and worship you while he slobbers on my dick.” A little repositioning and Zeke was sitting with his back against the far wall, his legs open, with me on my hands and knees between them sucking his dick as Mr. Montana fucked me. He was hunched over my back, slamming my hole, when Zeke straightened up a little and half whispered, “MONTANA, GO AHEAD AND PULL THAT RUBBER OFF. MY BOY WILL TAKE IT RAW AND NOT JUST RAW - YOU CAN SHOOT YOUR NUTT IN HIS ASS TOO. YOU WANT THAT? I KNOW YOU’VE SAID YOU MISS BEING ABLE TO BREED ASS AND TOO BAD FOR RICO. MISSING OUT ON THAT. WE WON’T SAY A WORD WILL WE? NO SEE. MY BOY WILL BE QUIET. THAT’S RIGHT - EASE IT OFF AND SLIDE RIGHT BACK IN. SEE I TOLD YOU YOU’D LIKE THAT - FEELS FUCKING GOOD HUH. NOW ANYTIME YOU NEED TO DIG SOME ASS YOU JUST COME ON BY. MY BOY HERE WILL TAKE YOU RAW EVERY TIME AND HOW ABOUT NEXT TIME, YOU USE JUST SPIT - YEAH JUST SPIT. MAKE HIS HOLE GOOD AND SORE. AND FUCK HIM ON HIS BACK. BREED THAT BOY HOLE - BREED IT MAN - BREED MY BOY - FUCK YEAH MAN - BREED HIS ASS!” Well, apparently I was not the only one who was jealous. After Mr. Mountain put about a quart of cum up my ass, he got dressed, went out front, and as Zeke slid in my cummy hole we heard shouting and arguing. Mr. Montana and Rico were going at it and a shattered glass and slammed door later, Rico was gone. When he came back through the curtain Zeke patted Mr. Montana on the shoulder, “It’s OK man. Let him go. Here - take this pill. Hang with us. We’ll smoke, drink, and fuck the God damn night away. How about that? You want to try spit fucking my boy now? You think you can get it back up?” Three daddy dicks fucked me good that night and I was in pig heaven. The next morning, the skies were still dark and stormy. Zeke and Isaiah took their time rolling out of bed and between a couple of cigarettes, a joint, coffee, and me, they managed to get up and get their day started. Two hours later Zeke and I pulled into the motel where I had been staying. He put the Chevy into park, looked at me, smiled, and asked, “You ready?” My hand shook a bit as I opened the door to the room. The interior was dark, humid, and Zeke pulled the middle of the drapes back to let in a shaft of dim light, “Get that ass up in the air boy. This is how I plan to start every morning from now on. Your hole peaking out, begging for daddy AIDS cum, me smoking, stroking, then fucking the shit out of you good. What do you say boy?” It was natural for me to reply, “Thank you Daddy,” and as I got naked, propped my ass up on a couple pillows facing the window, without a care about who might walk by, I thought back to the chat Zeke, Isaiah, and I had the night before as the three of us lay entwined in the camper bed. Zeke spoke for both the brothers when he said: “Well boy. You’ve proved yourself well these past two nights and we like you. Well enough to say you’re welcome to stay. We ain’t got a whole lot, but can sure promise you as much raw dick, POZ cum, weed and shit as you can handle. Of course, we’d look out for you too. You’d be our boy, but that don’t mean we’re married or shit. Just is what it is - us and you. Oh and well, other folks we tell you to bend over for too. You’d have to work here at the carnival of course, and help us with our shit. Then when the season’s done, you’ll come to the ranch down in Santa Fe. I think you’d like it down there and fuck - I know I’m looking forward to some nasty freak shit I got in mind for you. So what do you say boy, you ready to stay with your AIDs daddies?” I smiled and laughed a bit as of course right at the end of that speech Isaiah figured he needed to fuck me again, so it didn’t take much convincing once his big raw dick was inside me from the back and Zeke was working my nipples on the front. Zeke tapped out his cigarette, spit on his hand, slicked just the head of his dick, then punched my hole. Fuck I loved that. “TAKE THIS AIDS CUM BOY. GOD DAMN GOOD BOY FOR YOUR DADDY. FUCKING POZZING THAT HOLE AND HAVING YOU BENT OVER LIKE THIS MAKES ME THINK I KNOW THE PERFECT FUCKING JOB FOR YOU AT THE CARNIVAL.” I relished the feel of Zekes dirty cum up my ass as we packed my few things and took them out to his car. Before we left, I stopped at the desk and paid my bill, then handed the clerk an envelope to mail - my resignation from work. Back at the carnival the camper trailer was empty and there was a scribbled note from Isaiah letting Zeke know he and Mr. Montana had gone looking for Rico who also apparently had now run off. Fine by me. I was enough of a cum hound for this freak show. Zeke dropped my bags, handed me a bottle of Jungle Juice to tuck into my pocket, then lit a joint for us to share as we walked through the carnival. A few folks were out, cleaning up from the storm and getting things set up for hopefully opening later that afternoon. Zeke appeared to be on good terms with everyone and proudly introduced me as ‘his cousin’. Maybe his ‘preferences’ were not so known after all. Fine by me. We wandered through a set of game booths and stopped in front of one that had several sections to it with a big sign on top, BEAN BAG TOSS. Zeke stooped under the side railing, I followed, then he walked into the back. “Hey Earl, EARL!” No one replied. Zeke took a big hit on the joint, handed it to me, then when he exhaled he said, “Well Earl will show you the ropes. He’s a good guy, but don’t let his gruff exterior push you off. He may look like a little troll from one of them fantasy movies, but he’s good folk. If he was younger, he’d be all over your ass no doubt, so you’re not here for that - not with him anyways - but you are for everyone else.” I looked at him questioningly as Zeke walked to the side of the dim tent and patted a tall, wooden bean bag toss game that was a couple of clowns with holes strategically cut into the wood near their feet, hands, heads, etc… The paint was peeling in spots but Zeke said, “Pull your shorts off and put your ass right to that hole.” I did, he walked around behind it and lined his dick up with my ass. Zeke slid in my cummy hole, “Fuck yeah. So here’s the extra deal. You’ll help Earl run the booth when we don’t need you. I’ll pass the word. If you’re gonna help your daddies out, you got to learn the art of the sale, but first, we need to give folks around here a taste of those doughy mounds you got. I’ll be sending folks by, and when Earl tells you it’s time for a break you’ll put your ass to this hole and take their raw dick. You want that boy?” My affirmation of my new life as his boy was held in three words, “FUCK ME DADDY!” (*From the author: If you like the story let me know - post a reply or give a reputation. Thanks to everyone who takes the time to read these stories and for the continued support!)

Part 4: CLICK - HISS - CLICK - HISS - the hot pipe smoke filled my lungs, hit after hit - then a needle burned into my veins and filled me up. “You ready to be a slut?” shadow man asked as his charged load burned in my guts, “Ready for that hole to be used by every part of NYC society and filled with so much cum you won’t need to eat for a month?” I could only moan in agreement as the drugs kicked in and my ass craved some more dick. Today was Monday and I couldn’t wait for the rest of the week! I had some idea of what was planned as shadow man - the hotel worker who I pinged when I planned my vacation to NYC so I could get his anonymous load - had taken me far beyond my safety net. Now he planned to kick me across the fucking court. The padlock that held my new, leather hood in place jangled as I shook my head, trying to fight the waves of drugs and I heard shadow man say again, “YOU READY FOR THIS BBC NUTT? YOU FUCKING WHITE BITCH TWITCH! POZZING THAT WRECKED HOLE GOOD WITH THIS ANONYMOUS DICK. YOU WILL NEVER - EVER - FUCKING SEE MY FACE BUT YOU WILL FEEL ME AGAIN AND AGAIN. YOU WON’T SEE ANY OF THEIR FACES - HUNDREDS OF MEN WILL FUCKING USE THAT ASS AND NOT A SINGLE FUCKING ONE WILL BE SEEN BY THOSE FAG PUSSY EYES. GOOD THING YOU KNOW HOW TO OBEY - OTHERWISE MIGHT HAVE HAD TO SEW THOSE PEEPERS SHUT. BEG FOR THIS NUTT - BEG FOR THIS POZ DICK - BEG FOR ME TO BREED YOU WITH AIDS CUM!!” Someone cuffed my head hard, “Fucking focus fag bitch!” There was something off about the tone, the voice, the ‘toughness of it’ - oh yeah, this must be one of the Wall Street dudes. Some moneyed, married, top trying to do the down low fuck. I was too high to come back with a witty remark and it really didn’t matter. Today was Monday and I was being a cum dump for the men in fancy suits. A willing ass pussy. A boy cunt. A creampie oven. Whatever the fuck they wanted to call me. So the shadow man’s voice in my head must have been a replay of the moment when he impregnated me with his last load. I might have been high, but my senses were on overload and I could smell the coke and drug sweat coming off the man fucking my hole. His breathing/panting sounded like he had fluid in one lung. I could feel the racing of his heart as he laid his chest against mine and pounded my asshole raw, hard, and as deep as he could. I wanted it so bad! I needed that big dick deeper! My ass was filled, the Wall Street guy yanked out, zipped up, chatted with one of shadow man’s men as he paid his bill and got what sounded like a brown paper lunch bag that contained his to-go order of coke for the week. A door opened, closed, opened again, “You got my stuff?” someone asked. “Is that cunt wet - you know I like them wet, sloppy,” muffled conversation, then hands rubbing on me, “Here. Snort this. Now lay back and show me that camel toe so I can coat it with some snow. Damn that’s good. Make that cunt burn. Let me in there, take this dick, damn cunt whore, sloppy cunt, damn...damn…” Another load dropped. Another happy customer. That was how the rest of Monday went - all day and into the night - anonymous man after man came through, picked up their coke, used my ass, bred me, and filled me with cum. Some offered me a snort, or booty bump; others did not even speak a word, just took my ass and were done. The trail of men all blurred together like some lonely highway in the middle of the Great Plains, except for one. He came near the end of the day. I was lying on my back on the hotel room bed, my feet up on the edge, legs splayed apart so he could glimpse my dripping crack. Shadow man’s guy who served as my prison guard, had made sure I had been kept hydrated and escorted to the bathroom when I needed, but beyond that, he didn’t speak to me or even touch me, which drove me fucking mad as I wanted more dick. There had been a long break and I thought maybe we were done and my guard kept mumbling about the fucker who was late. The door opened, closed, and someone said - in a voice laced with power and force, “Get out.” My guard mumbled, the voice yelled, “GET THE FUCK OUT NOW OR ELSE I TAKE MY BUSINESS - ALL MY BUSINESS ELSE WHERE.” A large hand grabbed my ankle firmly, squeezed, and then released. The man slid his hand up and down my right calf, then my left. “Roll over,” he said. I did. “Get on your hands and knees and present that hole,” and I obeyed that command too. I heard the latch on a belt buckle release, the slide of high-end leather against tailored wool, the intake of breath as Wall Street eyed what I had to offer. His voice was disarmingly calm, “Let’s make a deal. You have three options on the table. One - you can suck my dick, but that’s all you get in return, just the chance to taste my BWC - my BIG WHITE COCK. Two - you suck my BWC, then get back and stay just like that and I will jack off and give you a back shot. Or three - you answer a question honestly and if you do, you get to choke and gag on my BWC while I whip your ass with my belt and coat the stripes with some Grade-A coke. I will then fuck you like you have never been fucked before and will take you like I take my girl and fill you deep with my baby maker as I vent all my anger, frustrations, and desire into your body in the best no-limits fuck by the best white dick you will ever experience.” Well, I almost laughed as clearly this guy had not gotten the memo. I was being a drugged up, fucked out, raw pussy boy hoe - which option did he think I would choose, but nice of him to ask I guess. “I’ll take option three,” I said with full confidence, “So you doing a hostile takeover with that BWC or is this going to be like date night or some woosie shit?” WHACK - WHACK - WHACK! The leather belt cut sharp and deep across my white cheeks and the sting broke through the coke high and sent my hormones soaring. His voice took on a darker tone, “Looks like I may need to consider an addendum to this deal and give you some lessons in how to properly serve a BWC MASTER!” WHACK - WHACK - WHACK! WHACK - WHACK - WHACK! WHACK - WHACK - WHACK! WHACK - WHACK - WHACK! WHACK - WHACK - WHACK! I relished in that moment between the contact of leather to my skin and the sharp sting that followed. My back was arched, my hands folded into claws to grip the bed beneath like a shot from a Wolverine movie as Wall Street showed me just what might be in store with this deal. I was determined not to let him hear me beg, plead, or whimper and naturally have a good tolerance for pain and when high - well fuck - he would only hear me cry if I wanted him to. He stopped. The leather belt was placed on the bed beside me as he undressed. The buckle jangled as he picked it back up, “I only do hostile takeovers,” he said. “Now, for my question. I can get you out of here, right now. They won’t stop me. So tell me honestly - do you want me to help you escape and are they doing this against your will?” My heart fluttered and for a fleeting moment I considered all that shadow man had told me, and what might happen if I stayed. I now had a chance to go back home. To live my normal, sane life, and to be free. Instead, I replied, “Fuck, yes, they are doing this against my will, but that’s the point - right? And thanks, but no thanks. I don’t want your help to get out of here. What I want is for you to quit fucking talking, put that belt to work, then show me what that BWC can do. I’ve had some pretty good dick already - and understand there’s more to come - so make sure I remember you.” Wall Street laughed, “Good answer. If you had said yes, well…” I sighed in pleasure as my guard finally banged my ass rough, raw and dropped a load. He was working on adding a second - giving me chocolate/white swirl as Wall Street’s cum was still in me - when shadow man came in. As soon as his man was done, shadow man slammed right in, “YOU FUCKING WHITE BITCH TWITCH. I’BEEN WAITING ALL GOD DAMN DAY TO GET UP IN THAT SLOPPY PUSSY. YOU’D THINK THAT PUSSY WOULD BE GAPING AFTER ALL THE DICK YOU TOOK TODAY BUT FUCK NO! IT’S SWOLLEN, PUFFY, BRUISED, AND CLINGING TO MY SHAFT LIKE A FUCKING LEECH! CAN YOU FEEL THAT? NO? WELL FUCK I DON’T WONDER - NOT WITH ALL THE POWDER THAT I HEAR’S BEEN SHOVED UP IN THERE YOU FUCKING SLUT BUTT. TIME TO POZZ YOU UP SOME MORE YOU WORTHLESS FAG WHORE. HERE COMES MY AIDS - FUCKING THROBBING AIDS NUTT FLOODING YOU OUT - JESUS YES BITCH TWITCH TAKE MY CUM!” Rivulets of cum were seeping out of my ass as shadow man lay on the bed beside me. He smelled of sweat and sex and weed and dirt and general man filth. Fuck it was awesome! Shadow man reached over and slapped me on my chest with the palm of his right hand making me flinch, “God damn, you got a good hole. Remember, this was only Monday. So give me that arm, time for you to get some rest. Tomorrow you got some rough dudes coming through, not these uptight motha-fuckas. A hot prick of the needle, the cold juice flowing into my veins - and I was out. Tuesday began with another shot and within seconds I was wide awake and ready to run a marathon. I still had the leather hood on, so just waking up and not being able to see and everything being dark and pretty disorienting. It took me a minute to focus on what I was being told and to get my senses shuffled into some kind of order. “Give me that boy hole,” someone said. I was rolled onto my stomach as some man jammed his prick into my hole and fucked me hard and quick like we were going to get caught by the principal or something. He was a 30-second nutt, came, pulled out, rolled me back over, tapped my arm, and jabbed me. “Boss says this will get you set for the day and that I’m supposed to remind you to watch that mouth. These folk ain’t playin and sooner shoot you then fuck you. The main event here is the dope we slingin - not your faggedy ass - so understand that shit. You mouth off - you get capped. Plain and simple.” Jesus - they really needed to work on their ‘team motivation’ speech. In the brief respite I had before the day began I briefly realized I was hungry and could not remember when I had ate last. Suddenly a bunch of worthless statistics popped into my head from watching cable TV - you can go like 3-weeks without food, but you have to have water or fluids. Over 60% of the human body is water. I didn’t have to worry about that. My guards were always handing me a plastic bottle of something, which I think was Gatorade, or some sort of flavored water. I was sitting on the bed thinking about that when KNOCK - KNOCK KNOCK - KNOCK. The door opened and a couple of guys came in. While it sounded like two continued to speak with my guard, the third came over to me, mounted me without a word and began fucking me hard and raw focused on getting off. While the shot had kicked in I was jonesing for some coke, or crack, or something else as I felt all itchy inside, but the phat dick in my ass was a good distraction. One down, two more to go, and I was disappointed when both declined the offer and just settled for their stash of drugs to sell. So the day went and I was not impressed. Shadow man had said, “Tuesdays are for the thug homies with that diesel dick who can make it rain. A little dope, smoke, snow, and they get a private hour to use that side snatch. All them niccas be armed and dangerous so you gotta watch your mouth and what you do and fucking play along with any shit they want and they’ll leave that hole so sore you can’t walk.” Well from what I had seen, they were just a bunch of bottoms with big dicks - where’s the men? Well, I spoke too soon. My guard spoke with fear and nerves reverbing in his voice, “The next crew scares the shit out of me man. They’re Dominicans and can be testy fuckers! They’re our #1 crew though so you best be doing the boss right.” OK, whatever. There was no incessant knocking, no demands, just a quiet tap on the door. My guard quickly opened it, I could hear several men, and then one spoke clearer and louder than the rest. “This the hoe? Go on boys - inspect that white snatch - let us see what we got on the menu today. Damn - looks like somebody been takin liberties. Check out them ass cheeks. You mark it up like bro? No? Ohhh - yeah those white fuckas be crazy as shit. Naw we ain’t down for that and you know what? It’s those little dick fuckas that be into the slapping, the spanking, the leather and chains and crazy cuckoo shit. We got no need for all that. We swinging the real shit. Man meat. But it’s cool. You always got the set up man. Good, good. The boys and me here been saving our drippy dicks for a white pussy hoe cum dump. Time to pour some sour milk on them apple jacks!” Rowdy laughter, multiple sets of hands, my body pulled and touched and tugged in too many directions at once. I gathered it was their leader who knelt in front of me, his hands on my thighs, as he continued to speak, “You trying to get marked? Violated? Fucking answer me!” SLAP! “Huh? We need to release some Mama Juana - you know what that is? No? Fuck boys - we got us a fresh one. Well get ready to get that ticket punched cause you going on the Dominicans gangbang fuck train.” The gang leader bent me over the bed and slammed his juicy, uncut dick in my ass. I squeaked like a chew toy from PetsMart and he laughed, “Yo boys, looks like we may need to come back later with our kennel. Got us a real bitch in heat here that sounds like he needs that knot!” He had a gigantic dick and every stroke tickled my prostate. “CREAM ON THIS DICK. THAT’S IT - COAT MY STICK WITH THAY BUSSY JUICE. SLICK ASS LIPS LETTING ME GLIDE DEEP UP IN THERE. GIVE YOU SOMETHING YOU CAN FEEL. HELL AFTER A FEW SNORTS OF THAT GOOD BLOW - A HOLE IS A HOLE. YOU A HOLE? A HOE HOLE? FUCKING SLUT! FILLING YOU WITH THIS CARIBBEAN NUTT! SPINNING THAT SUGAR CANE! GET UP THERE BOY - WORK THAT NECK WHILE I BUST THIS PUSSY OPEN. PUNCH THE BITCH - LET’S PLAY SOME KNOCKOUT TAG AND TURN THIS WHITE HOE INTO A SECTION 8 PROJECT WE KNOCKING DOWN WITH OUR WRECKING BALLS!” My bell got rung from both ends and six ways to Sunday as each of the Dominican thug, gang bangers rape fucked my hole and bred me with hot, sticky nutt. Before I knew it, I was conscious again and my guard - I think the same one from Monday from his voice - told me it was Wednesday - the day the construction crews who just want some cum dump ass to fill up without hearing a bitch complain come by and use a gloryhole to fuck a meat puppet. I still had the leather hood padlocked over my head and it was itchy as hell, but a few snorts of coke, some white roughly jammed up my ass, and whatever the fuck they shot up my veins made me only think about dick. They even had to force feed me some liquid. I tried spitting it back out. It tasted like goat’s piss, but a few slaps and I swallowed and it felt like lead in my stomach. I was escorted out of the room I had been in and I assumed taken down the hall. I was hoisted face down into some sort of harness/sling and a few adjustments of cables and pulleys left my legs splayed, my hole open poking through a sheet of plastic hanging from the ceiling and waiting for whatever anonymous dick came through. I didn’t have to wait long and all fucking day it was one raw dick after another just slamming my ass raw through the plastic gloryhole. There was nothing overly special or that I remember as my guard kept shooting up my veins, but there were A LOT of men. My legs were goopy and sticky and crusty with man cum when I was finally taken out of the sling. By Thursday I was tripping. I mean I was like imagining unicorns and Skittles and rainbows and shit. The pangs of hunger had turned to a dull ache I could only feel if I really focused, which was near impossible as I was puking my guts out from whatever drugs they had shot me up with. My guard even called shadow man back to the hotel room. While shadow man showed up at the end of every day to breed me and give me his AIDs load, this was the first time he came back as they were prepping me. He said I was dehydrated, someone named Doc came by, a couple IV bags later I was raring to go. Shadow man reminded me that Thursday was when, “The MOFO big dicked bandit street types will roll in. These guys are real gangbangers and like me, enjoy using a white bitch twitch and going balls to the wall for that extreme R&B - raping and breeding...Ex-cons, sex offenders, repeat offenders…” These dudes were all serious dicking specialists and some twisted ass freaks! Of course the thug who had choked me out in the bathroom before came back for another round that was even more intense, but beyond him, there was one I wanted to just keep serving. He called himself the East Side Strangler and had a GIGANTIC dick. He at first took his time, teasing me, holding me down, slapping, a little light choking, scratching my ass, mouth with his long nails as he hummed and occasionally sing-songed, “Juicy booty - fruity tootey….juicy booty - fruity tootey…” He then pulled some rough hewn rope out of a bag and bound my ankles and wrists together as he continued to hum. Next he started to finger my hole with a terry cloth towel. I assumed he was just trying to dry off the edges as he did not want to taste the load that had been left up in there. I then cried out as he started to stuff the end of the towel into my open hole with two fingers, then stuffed some, like he was packing an open wound. I was squirming then my body went rigid as he yanked the packed towel out of my hole in one, quick, tug. The pain made me pant hard as he chuckled. I tried twisting away to no avail as he just straddled me, sitting on my back facing my ass and ankles, as he continued to pack and pull pack and pull. Each time, getting it a little deeper, making hurt a little more. Satisfied, he laid his big body on top of mine, his left elbow under my throat, and began pushing his massive dick into my torn up hole. I began to moan and whimper and he squeezed tighter, “I KNOW THAT NICCA CAME THROUGH EARLIER AND CHOKED YOU OUT. THAT’S PUSSY LIGHT SHIT. FUCKING AMATEUR HOUR. I’M THE EAST SIDE STRANGLER AND I TAKE MY TIME, WILL KEEP YOU JUST AWAKE ENOUGH TO FEEL ME RAPE THAT PUSSY OPEN. FEEL YOUR BODY BENEATH MINE AS YOU FIGHT TO BREATH STAY AWAKE. I’M THAT BIG DICK DROPPA, BOSS DICK RAPIST, THAT NICCA JACK-THE-RIPPER. I SLICE AND DICE PUSSY, AND FAG PUSSY LIKE YOU GETS THE 4-HOLE TREATMENT AS WHEN I SEND YOU OVER THE EDGE YOUR BODY WILL LET ME IN EVEN DEEPER. ONLY WAY I CAN GET BALLS DEEP. EVEN THOSE FREAKS WHO CLAIM THEY CAN TAKE A BIG FIST CAN’T TAKE ME ON THEIR OWN. GONNA MAKE YOU CREAM ON THIS DICK AS I FUCK THAT PINK PUSSY CUNT TO DEATH. YEAH HURTS DON’T IT. LOVE FEELING A BODY SHAKE AND QUAKE BENEATH ME AS I DIG DEEPER. I’M ONLY SATISFIED IF THAT HOLE LOOKS LIKE IT GOT HIT WITH A BLENDER WHEN I PULL OUT - FLAPPING SKIN, BLOODY, PUFFY AND SWOLLEN AND THICK WITH MY DICK JUICE. TAKE A BIG BREATH IN FOR ME - THAT’S IT - NOW FIGHT ME BITCH! KNOCKED THE FUCKING AIR OUTTA YOU AND RIPPING THAT SECOND HOLE. FEEL THAT? COURSE YOU DO. TIME FOR THAT THIRD HOLE RING TO GET BROKEN - FUCK YEAH! NO, NO, NO CRYING OUT NOW. SHUSH. SHUSH - THERE YOU GO - FEEL THE DARKNESS CREEPING IN - BODY AND SOUL. I’M ONLY ABOUT HALF WAY IN AND I THINK FOR THIS PART, I’LL LET YOU FEEL HOW A TRUE BBC OWNS A PINK PUSSY.” East Side man slid his arm out from under my neck, raised himself up off my back, pulled his hips back, “1...2...3!” and slammed my open hole as hard as he could. He went deeper, but apparently not as deep as he wanted as he pulled back, “1...2...3!” and slammed me again. My body was shaking from the intense pain, “GOD DAMN FAGGOT ASS IS MINE - MINE! TIME TO RIP YOU GOOD - HERE YOU GO - TAKE THIS DICK - TAKE IT - 1...2...3!” With practiced moves, he dropped his body back down on mine and slid his arm back under my neck and squeezed, “SAY GOODBYE TO YOUR TIGHT HOLE - READY TO HIT THAT BOTTOM AND WHEN I DO LIGHTS OUT FUCKA - FUCK YEAH - HITTING THAT FINAL WALL - YOU READY - NIGHTY NIGHT WHORE CUNT!” There was something wrong. I shook my head. The guy who was fucking me was not on my back now, but what the fuck? He was humming, “YOU LIKED THAT DIDN’T YOU? I CAN TELL CAUSE YOUR PUSSY’S JUST QUIVERING FOR MORE. I CAN TELL YOU AIN’T NEVER BEEN FISTED BEFORE, SO ONCE YOU WERE OUT AND I HAD BLOWN MY FIRST LOAD, FIGURED WAS AS GOOD A TIME AS ANY TO TAKE CARE OF THAT TOO. FEEL THAT? SEE WHEN I OPEN MY HAND INSIDE YOU I CAN TICKLE AND SCRAPE THOSE WALLS, OR BALL MY HAND LIKE THIS AND REALLY BREAK OPEN YOUR RING. ALTHOUGH, SINCE MY DICK ALREADY BEEN DOWN THAT ROAD YOU WAS ALREADY PRETTY MUCH BROKEN. ON THE COUNT GOING TO PULL MY HAND OUT - LET YOU FEEL WHAT I’M TALKING ABOUT - 1...2….3!” Holy fucking Christ and before I could move he stuck his hand back in, “YEAH BITCH PUSSY - YEAH. I THINK THIS TIME I WILL GO BALLS DEEP IN ONE STROKE, REOPEN ALL THOSE RIPS, LET YOU GO NIGHTY NIGHT ALL ON YOUR OWN, THEN WILL TAKE MY TIME AS I STRANGLE THE FUCK OUT OF YOOU AND WORK OUT A FEW MORE LOADS. I GOT HOURS LEFT STILL ON THE CLOCK AND YOU ARE MINE. LUCKY YOUR MAN SET SOME RULES, ELSE WE’D HAVE GONE TOTALLY EXTREME.” “Come on now you white bitch twitch,” shadow man’s voice said, “Wake the fuck up. I want you to know I’m POZZING that phat ass and I sure the fuck ain’t carrying you to the shower.” I groaned. I felt like I had been hit by a 747. Every muscle ached and my entire abdomen felt tender, swollen, bruised and then I remembered bits and flashes of the rest of the night before with the East Side man. He was an extreme fuck and just thinking back to what I could remember made my dick fill up. Shadow man grunted, “Come on now, get the fuck up. I just planted some toxic nutt up in that ass. I was concerned he might have really fucked you up last night and last thing I would have hated to do is have to put you in a taxi and have them drop you off at the hospital. But a shot to make you sleep, a fucking entire tube of Preparation H, and that hole seems like it’s good to go. Well, for what I need it for anyways. That hoe pussy is gaping and is beat up for damn sure, but my Harlem homies who will be coming today expect that. They also know you been a fuck-hoe all week so will take full advantage and maybe will do some double dickin and shit. The Legendary Cream Team is all about making a hoe know they been fucked and nutted. Come on now. I’ll use the shower wand to hose you down. The homies like a hoe who smells like nutt, but you a few days worth of funk built up. Time to scrape some of that shit off.” A short time and a couple of bottles of Gatorade later, I was sitting on the couch in the hotel room, a glass pipe to my lips as one of shadow man’s friends started to tap a vein so I could spin out and get ram busted by the Cream Team. All I could think about was having a big dick in my ass. Maybe that sense of satisfaction is why guys wear butt plugs? I had never understood that before then, but while that might stuff you, I had lots of hot blooded raw meat ready and willing to keep me full. “Yo man, you need a clean needle?” someone asked. “Fuck no. This a Red Cross hoe blood bag. Dirty needle, dirty juice, and I got some burning drip to donate too.” Hour after hour I was fucked, bred, and drugged out for their pleasure. The smell of sweaty, grimy, high top fuckers was intoxicating! Shadow man has just emptied his bladder down my throat and was now rutting like a demon dog as he mounted me from behind, “Bitch pussy so fucking sloppy. Nasty hoe! You got so much fucking diseased nutt in you like a science project gone wrong. Ready for some more? Well, it’s Saturday and while some of the homies will probably swing back through - greedy fuckers - today is all about the worst of the worst. I got a line of about four dozen homeless dudes and crack house drug addicts - all veiny and wasted who will fill you up with so much fucking disease. The worst of the NYC streets. I’ll be down the hall taking care of whatever goods they stolen this week to fence, and then they get to use you as a bonus. You’re such a hoe that all you good for now is homeless dick. But don’t worry. I got some true horse dicked fuckas who plan to rape you good too. Today is more about the infected dick, so yeah, some little peters thrown in too. By the end of the day you’ll be ready for another round with my man the East Side Strangler. Horny nicca been blowing up my phone for a repeat and this time I told him no limits - well almost none. You ready to get coated inside and out with homeless and druggie piss, nutt, spit, and sweat? Game on motha-fuckas!” The first homeless man I could literally smell the second he stepped into the room, it was that bad. He bent me over the bed and wasted no time filling me with cum. One after another they came through. Some pissed on me on the bed, others wanted to kiss and caress and touch before they fucked me, while others were minute men who got hard, slammed, bred me, and bounced. “Tell me what you’re giving me!” I started to demand after the fourth or fifth guy and that really seemed to turn them on. Some didn’t respond, but others it made their dicks extra hard. They liked that I was a ‘nasty bitch’, and had no problem bragging about what dangerous infection they were giving me. None of these guys had drugs to share, but one of shadow man’s crew kept me lit up and spun out. I even got back to back loads from a couple of them, including a true horse hung fucker who loved that I begged to be rape fucked and to have my pussy bleed for him. Far too soon the homeless guys and street druggies stopped coming. I was fed some liquid, another vein tapped, and the guy said, “Special request. This shit will cut through all the rest and sober you right up.” Fuck - it’s one thing to crash and come down off a high naturally but to be yanked out was brutal. I was trying to focus on breathing and the sense of virtigo when I felt someone get up on the bed behind me, a big arm wrapped around my neck and squeezed, “YOU READY FOR ME?” the East Side Strangler asked. Sunday was checkout day according to shadow man. My week being a hotel hoe was done. He had said, “When you nothing but an infected bag of AIDs and a fucked out whore, I sell you off like a puppy mill and then the next fag pussy comes along, rinse and repeat.” I didn’t really know what that meant and was trying to figure out a way to convince him to let me stay. I mean I had taken everything he had thrown at me and then some right? I was sitting on the end of the bed wringing my hands, running through the scenarios in my head from crawling and begging to offering him anything. The hotel room door opened, closed, someone walked close. “Bend over the bed and show me that cunt faggot,” the man demand. He began using a long, sharp nail to scratch extra hard at the ring of my ass, quickly making it bleed. He then paused, dabbed at it, and I could hear him jacking his dick when he asked, “What’s your name?” He was the first man all week who had asked that. I replied and asked him his. HE LAUGHED, “NO. YOU HAVE NO NAME ANYMORE.” THEN AS HE GRABBED MY HIPS AND DROVE HIS THICK, DRY, RAW DICK INTO MY TENDER ASS HE SAID, “MY NAME IS THE STEALTH BOMBER.” (To read the adventures of the Stealth Bomber, go to: https://breeding.zone/topic/17169-the-stealth-bomber-episode-1-welcome-to-the-poz-team/) STAY TUNED FOR FINAL CHAPTER OF HOTEL HOE DOWN. (*From the author: If you like the story let me know - post a reply or give a reputation. Thanks to everyone who takes the time to read these stories and for the continued support!)

Choking on a Corn Dog: Isaiah spit a wad of chunky phlegm on his dick and didn’t bother asking or waiting to see if I was ready before lining his pole up like he was surveying the Rocky Mountains and slamming it into my dry ass. I told myself over and over it was a one-time thing. That I shouldn’t go back there - that I couldn’t go back - that I needed to stay away from the carnival and the two brothers who had fucked me raw, bred me with their charged nutt, and gave me dick-munchies from the good weed we smoked. I was lying on the bed in my motel room, stroking my dick. My eyes were closed as I replayed our fuck fest over and over in my mind like one of those cheap dirty movie channels on the motel TV. I decided the self-inflicted frustration was not worth it, so I might as well head next door to the truck stop diner for some breakfast/lunch. Well, that just made shit worse. There were all these truckers and other guys that just made my ass quiver with the need for dick. I even hung out a minute in the bathroom after I was done just on the chance someone would walk in and whip out his dick - which of course always happens right? NOT! Back in my room I smoothed out the rumpled paper once more that Isaiah had given me. It was the schedule for the summer of the dates and towns where the carnival was going to be along with a handwritten note at the bottom, “WE’LL BE HERE TWO MORE WEEKS AND YOU ARE WELCOME BACK ANY NIGHT. WE GOT ROOM ON THE ROAD FOR ONE MORE TOO - SO WHAT ARE YOU DOING THE REST OF THE SUMMER?” I held the paper up to my nose and SNIFFED. It smelled like him - them. Damn it! The sun was starting its western descent as I put the car into drive and headed towards the carnival. I had the weekend off so why not enjoy it right? And not like there was really any chance of them wanting to fuck again right? Maybe I was just setting myself up for disappointment right? I was about the 5th person in line at the gates when the carnival opened. While part of me said I shouldn’t appear too eager, my ass told me to make a run for it. So I did. I headed straight for the Fun House, all the while scanning left to right as I passed booths and rides, just in case I saw Zeke or Isaiah. Of course, Zeke was not working on the generator, which appeared to be running smoothly from the solid rumble it made. I even stepped around the back and tried the door to the room where he first fucked me - locked. What the hell, I decided to go their trailer and told myself if they were not there, then I would just go back to my motel. Their beat up truck and camper trailer looked even more rundown and dingy in the light than it did at night. All seemed quiet, the curtains were drawn, and not even a whiff of weed smoke was seeping out. I paused, took a deep breath, and KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK. I waited, placed my ear against the door, and waited then KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK a little louder this time. The trailer shook, I thought I heard voices, then someone yelled, “MOTHER FUCKING CHRIST - HANG ONTO YOUR HORSES - I’M COMING, I’M COMING.” A minute later Zeke threw open the door, a freshly lit, unfiltered cigarette dangling between his lips as he squinted at the daylight, then me. I could only stare at his semi-hard dick as clearly he had just woken up and now I knew he slept totally naked. He pinched the cigarette between his thumb and forefinger, exhaled, “Well don’t just fucking stand there. Come on in. You’re letting the bugs in and shit.” Zeke sat down in the little booth table with his left arm resting on the counter, “I knew you would be back boy for more of our AIDS cotton-cum-candy.” I let out the breath I didn’t realize I had been holding. He said that without judgment - just a fact - and somehow I felt reassured knowing that he wanted me again, and that he was right about what I needed even though I had not yet admitted it fully to myself. I looked to the back of the camper trailer where the bed was and noticed there was a dark curtain pulled across the doorway, yet there was enough of a gap that I could see a large, hairy leg - Isaiah. I then looked at Zeke and maintained steady eye contact as I pulled off my t-shirt, unbuttoned my shorts and pulled them off, kicked my sneakers off, and stepped up between his spread legs. Zeke blew his smoke towards my face and while the embers and ash of his cigarette flared, he reached out with his left hand and started rubbing my right nipple. I closed my eyes and moaned and reached down to stroke my stiff dick. SLAP - “DID I FUCKING GIVE YOU PERMISSION TO TOUCH YOURSELF!” Zeke said. Anger flashed hot across my face, which quickly ended as SLAP - Zeke left a deep red handprint on my cheek, “You need to learn right boy. Now keep your hands to your side and don’t fucking move.” I did as the carnie daddy ordered. Zeke set the cigarette between his teeth and then reached up with both hands and pinched and twisted my nipples hard. I winced, gritted my teeth, and forced myself not to flinch or move. His left upper lip raised slightly in a snarl as he twisted harder, his eyes daring me to cry out or move. A few minutes of tit torture was all Zeke needed to get his dick pump primed. Zeke stood up, put his cigarette out in the overflowing ashtray, then leaned into me as he slid his hand under my balls and drove a couple fingernails into my ass, “You need that hole fucked?” My pig instincts took over as I tried squatting/pushing down on the sharp nailed fingers that were digging in my ass. When I opened my eyes, Zeke was staring at me with a knowing smile, “I need you daddy,” I said. There was no verbal response, just another clawed finger added to the excavation going on against my ass ring. The harder and deeper Zeke tried scratching at my hole, the more I tried to push down onto his hand needing to be fucked. Zeke pressed his body against mine, pushing me back against the pantry cabinet as he continued his rear assault, “YOU KNOW WHAT I’M DOING? NO? I’M STRIPPING THAT ASS HOLE LIKE A COUPLE OF WIRES - PULLING THAT COATING OFF, SCRAPING IT RAW SO YOU CAN GET THAT FULL VOLTAGE CHARGE. THE BLOODIER THE HOLE, THE MORE MY AIDS CANDY WILL STICK TO THEM WALLS, DIG IN. YOU WANT ME TO STOP BOY? OR DO YOU WANT DADDY’S CANDY?” I wasn’t given the time to consider a response as Zeke pulled his red tipped fingers out of my pulsing ring, spun me around, and stuffed my mouth with those same fingers so I could taste the last of my own NEG self. “GIVING YOU A GOOD CHARGE BOY. HIGH VOLTAGE DADDY DICK AND CUM GOING TO POZ THAT HOLE GOOD. FUCK - COULD NOT GET THAT SWEET ASS OUT OF MY MIND AND MY BALLS BEEN SPINNING THAT AIDS NUTT DOUBLE TIME. LET’S PLAY A LITTLE RING TOSS NOW - SLIDE THAT RING OVER THIS DADDY STICK - SEE WHAT PRIZE YOU GET. THAT’S IT BOY - YOU WANT THE PRIZE? YOU WANT DADDY’S HOT, STICKY, AIDS PRIZE? I’M GOING TO…..AW FUCK MAN - WHAT THE HELL YOU DOING JUST STANDING THERE?” Zeke declared. I was confused and grunted in pain as he withdrew from my ass just as I was wetting up nice for him. I turned and joined Zeke as we both stared at Isaiah. He apparently had woken up and was standing behind the curtain to the bedroom, peeking out through the crack, and furiously beating his dick as the curtain flapped and billowed with every stroke of his hand. Zeke shoved me face first against the pantry, slammed his dick back in as I yelped, then wiggled his hips to make sure the connection was good, before turning me towards the curtain. “LOOKS LIKE YOU GOT ANOTHER DICK THAT NEEDS ATTENTION. COME ON NOW BOY, I GOT YOU - WALK AHEAD, THAT’S IT, NOW BEND FORWARD AND OFFER UP THAT GLORYHOLE MOUTH TO YOUR OTHER DADDY. SUCK THAT DIRTY STICK.” Isaiah’s long, thick dick was rank, sweaty, and crusted and I savored the sticky syrup that slid out the tip. “GOOD BOY. CHOKE ON THAT DADDY CONR DIG DICK, WHILE YOUR UNCLE - DADDY - WHATEVER THE FUCK SEEDS THIS ASS. I DUG IT UP GOOD SO I CAN PLANT MY AIDS CORN, NOW TIME TO ADD THE FERTILIZER IN THOSE GUTS, SPREAD MY SEED, WATER IT DOWN, AND WATCH THAT BUG GROW! YOU’RE GOING TO GET A FUCKING CONTACT HIGH OFF MY CUM BOY - DADDY’S NUTT IS ALWAYS YELLOW, THICK, AND SUPER STICKY AFTER A NIGHT OF SMOKING THAT GOOD COLORADO WEED - OR WAS IT THAT OREGON SHIT? NO MATTER - HERE IT COMES BOY - OOOHHH HELL YEAH - CHARGING THAT ASS UP!” With a sigh and a grunt, Zeke pulled out of my filled ass, slapped it twice, and said, “Fuck boy. Now I need me a coffee, a joint, and a pick me up. You go on back there and take care of your other daddy now.” The curtain was yanked back, Isaiah took his left hand and pulled his long hair back off his face and smiled as he stepped sideways to let me get to the bed. “How do you want me?” I asked. Isaiah’s big bear paw of a hand swiped at me, sprawled me onto the bed, before he dragged me back, pulled my hips up, and pushed my shoulder blades down. My cummy ass quickly started talking back to daddy as he started digging it out with two thick fingers - which felt bigger than three of four of his brother’s. I moaned, pushed my ass back, silently begging for that monster dick. Isaiah frustrated me once again though as he pulled his fingers out and buried his face in my boy snatch. His long tongue and beard set my crack on fire as he slurped out my booty boy juices, but suddenly he paused - KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK. Jesus hell. Isaiah stood up and pulled the curtain all the way back. I turned my body to look towards the front of the camper trailer as Zeke stood up from the table - still buck ass naked - and opened the door. A man - no woman - no fuck I didn’t know stepped into the trailer. The newest arrival was all hyper and spewed out, “Fuck man knew you was up. I could smell that good skunk weed from the other side of the camp. I’m hurting man and need a little pick me….” The person stopped speaking as he looked from Zeke, to Isaiah and his ramrod dick, to my naked ass on the bed. Zeke laughed, patted his new guest on the shoulder, “I got you Walter. You know we always keep some extra stash just for you. So what you looking for today? Some coke, or that Croc shit you been shooting up?” The person he called Walt just stood there staring, and I stared right back. Zeke called him Walt, but this person looked like he had DD tits, long, curly blonde hair with a big red bow on top, and was wearing a red and white checkered poufy dress like they had just stepped out of some country and western square dance show. Isaiah poked my hips and said, “That’s Walt. The bearded lady.” OK, now I got it I guess. They still had si9de show freaks like that these days? Isaiah walked towards the front and frustrated at the interruption I did too. Walt was still standing by the door all fidgety as Zeke pulled a couple of coffee can tins out of the pantry, set them on the table, sat down, lit up a fresh joint, and started to peel plastic covers off the tins and pulled out various baggies full of weed, pills, and other shit. “This is our new boy,” Zeke said as he nodded towards me. Isaiah had sat down at the table too now and took the lit joint out of Zeke’s mouth, hit it, then set it back between his brother’s lips. I was suddenly embarrassed and aware of my nakedness and bent down to get my t-shirt. SLAP - Zeke had reached out and cuffed my head. “No one told you to get dressed. Now Walt, he’s got some good boy hole and I just wet it up nice and deep. What do you say - want to fuck it before Isaiah here stretches that shit out?” Isaiah chuckled and spanked his still hard dick. Walt looked at me, his eyes darting back and forth, “I don’t know man,” he said, “I mean yeah fuck, you know, I’m like horny like horny shit all the time, but you know man, I don’t know, I mean fuck.” Even as he seemed to object, Walt started getting undressed. He looked at me and shrugged, “Can’t get the costume fucked up you know? It’s just a job dude - I mean yeah fuck - just a job. I ain’t into all that fem shit, I mean fuck - not nothing wrong with it I mean fuck. Just, just I mean, for me it’s a job, right? Fuck.” I yelped and turned as Isaiah - with the joint between his lips - winked at me as he jammed his thick fingers back up my ass and started scraping my flesh raw. I leaned into his hand, begging for him to go deeper as Walt continued to get undressed. Isaiah handed the joint to me, I happily took several hits back to back, as we watched Walt take for fucking ever to get naked and Zeke set up a Walt’s hit. I then choked as Walt pulled the white stockings down over his legs - they were covered in large black, scaly spots. What the fuck was that? Isaiah poked my side, I bent over and he whispered, “It’s from the croc. Nasty shit.” I looked at Zeke as he stirred some foul looking liquid in a dirty coffee cup, pulled back on the end of syringe, and filled it with Walt’s drug of choice. I looked back at Walt and noticed even his dick - which was as long as Isaiah’s and maybe even thicker - also had the black, scaly spots on it. I cringed a little, hit the joint, and then watched as Walt stepped forward, naked except for the red bow in his blond hair. Walt picked up a syringe full of the brown liquid Zeke had extruded from the mug, then casually jammed it into a pulsing vein on his lower left abdomen that was so close to the skin he looked like a slice of exotic cheese. The syringe emptied, Walt closed his eyes and turned his head, set the needle down, then shook his whole body like a Labrador that had just taken a swim. “Fuck yeah - mean fuck - yeah - I mean..” He said. Zeke looked at me, “Get on your knees boy. Slobber on that charred corn dog - taste that drugged up dick.” I knelt on the camper trailer floor, and hesitantly reached out to touch that diseased dick. It felt like slabs of granite glued to his dick and the last thing I wanted to do was put my mouth on it. “Here,” Zeke said as he handed me a bottle of Jungle Juice poppers, “Hit these if you need to.” I shook my head. No, I wanted to taste it, lick it, suck it without that first. I gagged, wretched, and my eyes watered at his rotten, crunchy dick, but I took it in my mouth and tried to soften the scales up with my spit to no avail as Walt quickly got hard. “Fuck - I mean I got to cum now - come on - you want it in your ass - fuck I mean,” he said. I stood up, bent forward with my forearms resting on the table and Isaiah smiling and jacking his dick while Zeke set a joint between my lips, then the bottle of poppers. “GET FUCKED UP AND TAKE THAT CROCODILE DICK FOR YOUR DADDIES,” Zeke ordered. I winced as Walt’s scaly dick shredded the outer layer of skin and started banging my ass. Isaiah was entranced and as he jerked harder I just kept thinking I didn’t want him to waste the cum. Zeke kept me drugged between the joint and poppers and as the double shot kicked in I wanted to feel Walt really scrape my ass raw. I arched my back, lowered my shoulders, and set my right foot up on the table seat by Zeke. “Shit!” Isaiah said. I smiled at daddy, turned, and smiled at daddy #2 as Zeke lit a new joint, hit it, then set it between my lips. He exhaled, “Fuck, you’re a slut hole boy - mother-fucking-Christ! Go on Walt, cum in that boy ass, I want to see his face as you put that toxic load up his shitter. Make it bleed good with that reptilian dick. He’s a good boy, he can take it.” Walt banged the fuck out of my ass as my two daddies watched, proud of their boy. Walt started clawing deep lines down my back, “FUCK - I MEAN YEAH FUCK - I’M READY TO SPILL - I’M READY TO SPILL - NICE FUCKING WETT ASS - OH I WANT THAT SHIT - OH I NEED THAT HOLE - OH I WANT THAT SHIT - I MEAN - FUCK YEAH - I MEAN…..AAAAAHHHHH - AAAAAHHHH OH HELL THAT BURNS!!” Walt’s cum might have burned his dick coming out, but totally scalded my insides as he worked it in. That croc chem nutt was some fierce shit and burned like acid! A few minutes later Walt was dressed and gone, happily on his way and in time to make the 4:00 p.m. show. Zeke was cleaning up and sorting his various bags of pills, weed, and other shit and said, “I’m the man the folks here come to see to get what they need. No matter what their fix is, I got it or can get it in 24-hours tops and make a fucking shit load of money for a tiny bit of trouble.” I looked around the run down camper trailer and frowned thinking this sure doesn’t look like they had a shit load of cash. Zeke must have known what I was thinking as he said, “It’s all about laying low, not attracting attention. Who would think that two brothers living in this dump are major drug smugglers and dealers? All our cash goes back into the store stock and our ranch outside of Santa Fe. You been to Santa Fe before boy? What do you think brother, could we use a boy on the ranch? A boy to keep us warm on those cool nights, a boy to bend over and take the ranch hand’s dicks? I boy to tie up to that big post beam in the middle of our hacienda and whip and fuck the shit out of?” Isaiah paused - the Spam/butter/white bread sandwich he had made halfway to his mouth. He then nodded, looked at me, smiled, and said, “OH YEAH!” Zeke continued, “I also sell to all the fucking country folks who don’t got their own connect. Jesus - even fucking poppers - I get rid of Jungle Juice by the fucking case! Triple the price - no questions asked.” I looked around wondering where he stored all that stuff and again, the fucking daddy read my mind. “There are many advantages to being in charge of maintenance. We got our stash hidden and stashed in just about every moving vehicle and ride and piece of equipment here. Within two-steps I can set a fucker up - cash on the barrelhead. And with our shit spread out, if something happens to one part of it, well we still got plenty left.” Fucking made sense. I couldn’t wait any longer and got down on my knees pushed Zeke’s legs back under the table, and started slobbing on Isaiah’s dick. Zeke then pushed his way out of the booth, knelt on the floor behind me, slapped my ass and said, “COME ON BOY - SQUEEZE THAT HOLE AND PUSH THAT NUTT OUT. LET ME TASTE THAT CROC’S LOAD.” Once he had slurped me clean, Zeke grabbed my t-shirt, wiped my crack and fingered my hole and then said, “He’s ready brother, go slam that big corn dog up his silo.” I was led to the bed and thrown on my back. I grabbed my ankles pulling my legs up and apart so Isaiah could see my ass. I needed him to take me again, fuck me deep, and his drizzling AIDs dick seemed more than willing. I knew what I wanted - what I needed - and as he held the Jungle Juice down to my nose for a final sniff, I smiled, knowing my ass would get hurt and POZZED again by this daddy’s horsey dick. Isaiah spit a wad of chunky phlegm on his dick and didn’t bother asking or waiting to see if I was ready before lining his pole up like he was surveying the Rocky Mountains and slamming it into my dry ass. (*From the author: If you like the story let me know - post a reply or give a reputation. Thanks to everyone who takes the time to read these stories and for the continued support!)

Part 3: Once again my arm was tapped as one of the anonymous breeders prepared to infect my ass and veins. In a brief moment of clarity I wondered, “This was only my first night. What would day two be like?” My limp, drugged up and fucked out naked body had been roughly dropped on one of those big luggage carts you see at hotels. Shadow man - my anonymous host, drug benefactor, and pimp daddy laughed as he kicked my ankles, “Keep your hands and feet inside the ride at all times.” I would have said something smart assed if I had been able to, but the drugs still had me held tight in their grip and there was now duct tape over my mouth too. The opaque view of the world through the homemade plastic hood turned to black as shadow man slid the cart cover down over the top, hiding me from view. The rolling coffin rumbled down the hall as shadow man provided commentary, “We’re taking the service elevator down. This is how my homies and folks usually come in and out. I can turn the security cameras off and on and no one knows, plus only me and my boys got the keys, so keeps my shit private.” The service elevator creaked and moaned, whirred and stirred, as we dropped down to the floor where my room was located in the hotel. “Good morning Ma’am” shadow man said to someone as he rolled me down the hall. I could tell someone else was with us from the dangling of the keys on their belt even though they did not speak. A small beep, a click, a door opened, a bump as the cart was pushed over the door sill, the door whooshed closed, then silence until the lights were flicked on, and shadow man and his cohort stepped further into the room. “You sure we good?” the other man asked. Shadow man laughed, “How many fucking times we done this shit now? Trust me man. It’s all good. Now drag that faggedy ass out here, put his finger on the safe, and let’s clean this place out. Remember, don’t fucking leave him alone and your Jersey boy should be here in a minute. Once he’s done hit me on the walkie - then me and the boys will come back and roll him back up and get the setup done.” Still not convinced the other guy questioned, “What about DNA and shit? Shouldn’t we be worried?” Shadow man sighed, clearly frustrated, “Fuck no man. I know this is your first kidnapping and all but man the fuck up! This is a hotel room. You know how little this place gets washed and cleaned and the cops - even if they bother fucking looking and trust me they won’t as our man in the precinct always gets these cases - but even if by chance they did look they will find so much fucking DNA in here it won’t matter. Plus our reports will make it legit and then the bonus is your Jersey boy will use the cell from the bus station in Newark or some shit and you know we got the cab connect all down. Same old plan as always - only this time, he ain’t shipping out quite so fast.” I tried to wrap my head around all I had just heard - or imagined. I was not quite sure because of the drugs and all but it sounded like they were planning to set me up? Kidnap me? I grunted as I rolled off the luggage cart and onto the floor. I still had on the plastic hood, so could not see shit, and got a quick kick in the ribs for my effort. “Now, now, now,” shadow man scolded me as he cuffed me on the head, yanked me up by my arm, walked me forward then pushed me onto the bed. He turned to his associate, “Just make sure only his prints are on the syringes and that way it will prove he was junkied out when shit went down.” The door opened and closed, I was then pressed back against the bed as a burly body straddled me, “Give me that fucking arm. Time to dope you up. My Jersey boy comes through for them raw times and likes limp biscuit bitches to fuck. Here - wrap your fingers around this - don’t fucking fight me! There you go. Good. Good. Ok - get ready to spin out and embrace that good shit. You lucky that pussy is valuable as you sucking up all the good juice boxes.” I flopped back on the bed, high as shit. My face was sweating like hell in my plastic hood. It was so tight I could only wipe at the skin around my mouth and nose where shadow man had cut the X. There were slimy spots too, from nutt, or something. I didn’t really want to know. Yes I did! As the drugs kicked in my horny meter went into the red and I reached down to try to jack my withered dick. Useless. Fucking useless. How frustrating! I don’t get how guys can stand being spun out like this all the time and not even get hard. It was like my whole body was itching on the inside and I had no way to scratch. I couldn’t even fucking jerk off. My pointer sat on the bed and seductively rubbed my thigh, “Sucks huh?” he asked. Just then there was a knock at the door - three fast, then two slow. The door opened, a cloud of smoke filled the room, and a deep voice echoed off the walls, “Show me that boy clit if you want this potent nutt.” I rolled over and reached back to spread my cheeks and whether the next was said to me or my pointer I didn’t know, “This dope dick going to rape that ass good. You know anal raping ain’t cheating right? I can honestly look at my girl and truthfully say I ain’t cheated on her.” To me that seemed like denial, splitting of hairs, semantics, whatever, and then I wondered how I could think so clearly when I had just taken a syringe of some shit? I didn’t have long to ponder that question as the new, anonymous breeder pulled me to the end of the bed, flipped me like a pancake onto my back and lifted my legs up like he was changing a baby diaper, “I plan to take that hole - own it - remodel that house and do a complete tear down, break those walls, then leave it as a claptrap.” He jammed a couple sharp nailed fingers into my asshole, “Damn - that’s some phat gushy pussy. I plan to kill that meth whore hole with my Black Flag roach killer. Disrespect that ass. This that ghost dick - that Certified Pussy Pleaser. I got that young blood dick that digs deep - a big donkey cock and no tapping out til it’s flooded.” As he ranted on about how great he was, my pointer climbed up on the bed behind me, set his balls on my face, then the new guy said, “Hold them legs back and let me hear him gargle on that dick.” My legs were yanked back like a turkey wishbone, and then he said to me, “The only part of me you will feel is my meet in your pussy cum catcher as I wind up and toss you this pitch.” I cried out in pain as that black stallion busted through the gate and took off like he was trying to win the Kentucky Derby. A raw, brutal fuck later I was basking in the afterglow of a vein full of liquid sun and an ass full of liquid BBC juice. Anonymous hands guided me, then rolled me back onto the luggage cart, along with some blankets and other things - luggage? The cart trundled down the hall, the service elevator whirred and stirred, and back up on the 17th floor I was left standing in the middle of the model suite as shadow man roughly fingered my cummy hole. “So here’s how things go,” he explained. “Your room has been emptied out of all your shit a week early. You bill is unpaid. You skipped out during the night after a drug binge or whatever the fuck. Right about now my guys are filing a police report for all the damage to the room - broken furniture, holes in the walls, thousands of dollars of shit along with reports that you assaulted some of the staff with a knife along with threats to do bodily harm. So in addition to being a thief, destruction of property, there’s that whole nasty attempted murder shit too. A warrant will be issued and if you ever show your face, NYPD’s finest will cart you off to Riker’s then send you upstate quicker than the Easter Bunny hides a fucking egg. You understand me? Huh?” The last was emphasized as he grabbed the back of my neck and squeezed and shook hard like I was in the jaws of a pit bull. I was so fucking confused and even though I should have been more freaked about what he had said, all I could focus on was trying to get more dick and more drugs. Shadow man laughed, shoved me onto the couch, tied off my arm, and was tapping a vein as some other hand shoved some powder up my hole that scalded my skin off. “You sure that’s a good idea?” someone asked. My head rolled to the side, my tongue flapped out as shadow man laughed, “Every fucking day I will drive him to the edge of an O.D. and let him hang off the side of that cliff a bit. And well, if the cliff crumbles and he falls, that’s what Doc and these handy Narcan doses and other shit’s for.” Shadow man laid me on the couch so one of my legs was off the front. CLICK - HISS - CLICK - HISS - CLICK - HISS - he hit his pipe, the crack smoke casting a pallid blanket over me. Once the rock kicked in he got on top of me and angled his dick. The pressure and weight of his body felt so good, reassuring, and his big dick in my ass made me feel that was the way I wanted to be all the time. He wrapped his big arm under and around my neck and held me in a grip lock as he began to slowly long stroke my hole. “This is how shit’s going down this week,” he said. “Whether you stay awake or not, you’re being slutted out 24/7. I’m going to keep you high and cock crazed so all you are is my latest hoe flavor.” I must have said, “Huh,” or something and he continued, “Don’t you get it yet? I’m pimping you out. I’ll let ever nicca in the Big Apple that wants some of that hole climb the fuck in it and breed it, infect it, use it, abuse it, tear it up, throw it away. I got dozens of regulars who prefer my discrete one-stop-shop then going to some ABS or trap house where it’s hit or miss, they might be seen, and they can’t get the good dope that I sling so two birds - one stone - or one ass in this case.” I was impressed; this man had a solid business plan and had worked out all the angles. Then as he hit a spot extra deep I remembered, that oh yeah, the whole sex trafficking thing with me as the commodity. Yet, frankly, I felt a relief inside. For the first time in my life I had no inhibitions, did not worry about what some sweater queen might think, didn’t have to wonder if they liked my ass or not. It was all about getting in, getting off, getting high! I listened as shadow man kept thrusting and explaining how things worked, “My man handles the door and takes a slice off the loaf. Here’s your weekly planner: Monday: Today, I got those Wall street types who are coke heads and need their weekly pick up of dope and some raw ass on the side. They will believe whatever the fuck I tell them like you some clean suburban ass, first time in the city, and that they are the first raw dick you ever taken. Most will drop $200 to dump a raw load, which is nothing for them. Their wallets fat, but trust, I only let the big dick fuckers use the asses I line up. I got a special room for them. Oh you’ll probably get 6 or 7 during the morning rush, another dozen at lunch, more at C.O.B., so I expect a quick $6-8k off your ass today.” I had to interrupt him as I started cramping, but shadow man dismissed my pleas with a reference to the “Wall Street grimy freak” who would be there shortly and who pays premium for it super filthy and he would give me another shot to make sure once it kicks in, that would fucking clean me out for days quicker than Draino. With that out of the way, shadow man continued to deep stroke my hole, his dick swelling as he told me how he would pimp me out the rest of the week: “Tuesdays are for the thug homies with that diesel dick who can make it rain. A little dope, smoke, snow, and they get a private hour to use that side snatch. All them niccas be armed and dangerous so you gotta watch your mouth and what you do and fucking play along with any shit they want and they’ll leave that hole so sore you can’t walk. These guys all help move my product on the street and got their own crews. Next up, on Wednesdays we deal with the construction crews who just want some cum dump ass to fill up without hearing a bitch complain. You’ll be tied up with your ass sticking out of a gloryhole - gagged - and you’ll be nothing more than a white fleshlight meat puppet. With them, it’s all about the numbers and the 5-minute nutt and they don’t mind fucking a wet, sloppy pussy after another dude. You’ll get more dick that day than most folks do in a lifetime. A lot of these dudes direct sell for me - easy for them to get places without being seen as no one pays them any mind. Thursday the MOFO big dicked bandit street types will roll in. These guys are real gangbangers and like me, enjoy using a white bitch twitch and going balls to the wall for that extreme R&B - raping and breeding. Remember my buddy who choked you out? He’ll be back and he’s a lightweight compared to some. Ex-cons, sex offenders, repeat offenders, these folks are dudes I served with or that my probie cast my way as part of their ‘rehab’ back into society. They’re my muscle and enforcers on the street - guns and fists for hire and they might roll on you one-on-one or decide to go down some extreme shit path and gang rape you with no fucking limits. Don’t matter none to me as they still pay and I keep them stocked and happy. Friday we got you a repeat with the Legendary Cream Team - my Harlem homies. You held your own with them so we’ll do some double dipping. The homies are just a bunch DL brothas from the hood looking to chill, smoke, and bust a nutt with their power strokes- all bout dat life! YOLO! Saturday - Fuck! Saturday might the nastiest, freakiest, dirtiest shit of all going down - you hear me? You zoning out bitch? Here, I’ll wake you back up - feel that dick tickling your ivory? That’s better, now listen the fuck up. Saturday, I hook up the worst of the worst. All the homeless street hustlers who can’t even get a $5 John to take their bug infested dicks. We got the crack house drug addicts - all veiny and wasted who fill you up with so much fucking disease. In addition to whatever viral gifts they bring, I fence whatever shit they stolen that week so they might be short on cash but always good for some pretty good grabs. Even get the occasional car and shit. I keep their habits fixed - lower cut shit - but for them still better than what they can get and in turn they’re my army of eyes and ears on the street. They might be dirty and raggedy but they need a pussy too and don’t care how busted your hole is, how full of nut, how sick you are from being drugged out, or how much you stink from all those AIDs niccas laying up on you. Fuck, they be adding layers and dirt rings like you a Redwood Tree - coating you in chem sweat and piss, caking your body. Sunday, well Sunday is check out. When you nothing but an infected bag of AIDs and a fucked out whore, I sell you off like a puppy mill and then the next fag pussy comes along, rinse and repeat. I was busy trying to wrap my drug-addled mind around all shadow man had just told me when he squeezed his arm tighter around my neck, “YOU READY FOR THIS BBC NUTT? YOU FUCKING WHITE BITCH TWITCH! POZZING THAT WRECKED HOLE GOOD WITH THIS ANONYMOUS DICK. YOU WILL NEVER - EVER - FUCKING SEE MY FACE BUT YOU WILL FEEL ME AGAIN AND AGAIN. YOU WONT SEE ANY OF THEIR FACES - HUNDREDS OF MEN WILL FUCKING USE THAT ASS AND NOT A SINGLE FUCKING ONE WILL BE SEEN BY THOSE FAG PUSSY EYES. GOOD THING YOU KNOW HOW TO OBEY - OTHERWISE MIGHT HAVE HAD TO SEW THOSE PEEPERS SHUT. BEG FOR THIS NUTT - BEG FOR THIS POZ DICK - BEG FOR ME TO BREED YOU WITH AIDS CUM!! Hot pimp daddy nutt swam up my man womb, buried themselves deep, like only true POZ BBC cum can. Once he had finished, shadow man climbed off me and then told me to hold still as he jammed a needle roughly into my arm. “This shit will make you cramp up like you just got kicked by a donkey. Hold it until the Wall Street guy sticks his dick in your ass then go for it. I’m going to walk you into the hot tub. He’ll slam his dick in and fuck you senseless and let loose. He likes it as nasty as you can make it so no holding back.” Yeah, no worries on that front. A while later I was being showered down and cleaned off as the first Wall Street guy had gotten all he wanted and bred me good. I didn’t know if he was black, white, or what, but he had a monster dick and was a freak, so as the water ran down the plastic hood like a thunderstorm hitting roof tiles I moaned - eager to get my ass filled back up. Once I was clean, shadow man toweled me dry, sprayed some Axe or some shit on me, then had his buddy place his hands over my eyes as he sliced the plastic hood off. He quickly wiped my head down with a wet towel, then blow dryed it, then covered it right back up with a real leather hood - one that had holes for my nose, mouth, and ears, and a big fucking padlock at the back of the neck like I was a Public Storage Unit. CLICK - HISS - CLICK - HISS - the hot pipe smoke filled my lungs, hit after hit - then a needle burned into my veins and filled me up. “You ready to be a slut?” shadow man asked, “Ready for that hole to be used by every part of NYC society and filled with so much cum you won’t need to eat for a month?” I could only moan in agreement as the drugs kicked in and my ass craved some more dick. Today was Monday and I couldn’t wait for the rest of the week! (*From the author: If you like the story let me know - post a reply or give a reputation. Thanks to everyone who takes the time to read these stories and for the continued support!)

I tried not to check for wet, semen spots on my denim shorts as I made my walk of shame back to the car and ran my tongue around my mouth savoring the lingering tastes of dick and cum. The sun was just peeking up over the Nebraska cornfields. The voices of a couple arguing carried on the summer wind, and the only other life up at that hour were a few birds hopping around and foraging for what the folks had tossed on the ground the night before. The 2016 primary election campaigns had been a chance to get out and see the world. For some reason, being from the East Coast seemed to make we well qualified to be sent to the Midwest to do some grassroots organizing. I had spent the month of May driving from one end of Nebraska to the other, and finally had a weekend off. Memorial day weekend was the start of the summer, and nothing got the summer off right so folks told me, like going to the carnival. People traveled from far and wide to enjoy the rides, food, see old friends and make new ones. With a half-eaten hot dog in one hand and a dented soda can in the other, I had taken my time walking around the carnival, just enjoying this different part of life on the open plains. Near the back of the fair grounds I noticed an entire section of the carnival was almost totally dark, deserted, centered around the Fun House - at least that’s what the blacked out neon sign on the top of what looked like several shipping containers strung together said. As I got near the far end of the Fun House I could hear banging of metal on metal, along with the frustrated voice of a man who kept repeating, “Worthless piece of shit. Mother-fucking-shit. Worthless piece of shit….” I dropped the remains of my hot dog and drink into a trashcan that had a big white sign sticking out of it - CLOSED. I peeked around the end of the corner and in the dim light could see a man bent over, banging a generator with a silver, metal wrench. There was a can of beer along with a big flashlight perched on the edge of the generator housing and when he next gave the generator a good whack, the flashlight started a fast roll, the can toppled, beer splattered on his pants, and with an unfiltered cigarette still dangling in his mouth he began wiping at his pants and swearing, “Shit, fuck. Mother-fucking-shit.” I could only stare as in his efforts to wipe off the excess liquor he had turned to the side and given me a great view of the fat dick head poking out through the hole in his left pant leg. Something made him aware I was there. He paused, stood up, gave me the once over, took his cigarette out of his mouth with a pinch of his thumb and forefinger and asked, “Hey, what’s up? Can I help you?” I took my eyes off the hole in his pants where his man snake had retreated, shook my head no, “Sorry. I was just wandering around.” He squinted as he took a puff, exhaled the smoke, smiled and said, “Well, since you sorry and all, how about giving me a hand a minute? Grab the light for me will you and shine it in the middle there.” I walked behind him, bent down, fetched the flashlight from the tall grass, and shined the beam onto the broke down generator. With his cigarette back between his lips, the man focused once more on whacking it here and there with his wrench. I don’t know much about mechanical things, but to me, seemed like maybe that was not the best choice. But as he did, I took the chance to look at him closer. His camo baseball cap was frayed around the brim. Beyond the holes in his pants, the tank top he had on appeared to have more holes and stains than anything else. His arms were nice and muscular and his hair appeared to be short, but he had long sideburns that edged down his face and stopped a few inches shy of meeting up with the full, Fu Manchu mustache he wore. I let my eyes continue down, lingering on the beds of sweat on his upper chest, then looked further down to the hole where his dick head had appeared before. The man was down on his right knee, with his left leg up and out, giving me the perfect angle to try to see his dick again if I just moved the light slightly back….”Hey - HEY!” the man said. I looked back at his face, his eyes met mine, he motioned forward with the wrench, “The light - on there - you mind?” I apologized, repositioned the light once more and tried to keep my eyes focused as he worked. “Well fuck,” he said. The man stood up, patted me on the back, “Come on.” He slammed the generator housing cover closed, walked around to the side, I followed trying to shine the light on the ground so we both could see. He went up a couple metal steps at the back, opened a door to a mechanical room, with me close behind. He took the flashlight from my hand, set it on a shelf so it cast off enough light to see by, closed the door, then sat down on a metal folding chair. “Want a beer?” he asked. I nodded, he fished one out of a cooler in the corner, popped one open for himself and took a long swig. “Jesus that’s good. You smoke?” he asked. “No, I don’t smoke cigarettes,” I replied. “Fuck that,” he said, “I’m talking about weed. That generator is toast, so my night is done. Time to get buzzed and lit - you want to join me?” A few minutes later we were sharing a smoke, emptying a fresh can of beer, and swapping stories. “You from around here?” he asked. I told him I was from out of town and staying in a motel about 20 miles away and had just come for the carnival. His name was Zeke, he and his brother Isaiah were the equipment maintenance guys and had been with the carnival since they got out of high school. Then he added a twist that made my dick hard and my need to get fucked zoom right to the surface, “This job may not pay a whole lot, but we got a roof over our heads - such as it is - travel here and there, I can drink my beer and smoke my weed pretty much all damn day and there’s an endless supply of new ass. Trust me, that’s a mighty good thing since both Isaiah and I are constantly horny.” I was still trying to figure out if he meant ass in the broader “straight man talking about girl pussy” sense or if he meant ass ass - like man ass. That thought process was interrupted as he handed me the joint, stood up, unzipped his pants, pulled out a long, thick, uncut dick, fluffed his balls, and I about choked to death as I inhaled just a bit too quickly. Zeke stepped towards the back wall of the small room, leaned forward and steadied himself with his left hand on the wall in front of him, spread his legs apart and let a stream of hot piss hit the back and trickle down, creating a dark puddle that slowly seeped into the wood floor. I exhaled my latest hit of the joint as Zeke turned, ran his right hand around the dripping head of his dick, then lifted it to his mouth and licked the drops off. He smiled, stepped over to me and dropped his pants to the floor, his dick so close and said, “Want to taste it? I seen you staring at my dick.” I held up the blunt for him to take, leaned forward, set my hands on the sides of his hips and started slurping on that hot daddy dick like there was no tomorrow. “Suck that shit,” Zeke ordered, “Taste that good daddy dick. That’s some real man dick there. You trying to swallow my load or how about I feed it up your ass?” I moaned at that and shifted and Zeke laughed, “Oh yeah smoke that daddy dick, smoke it up. Good boy. Here - take this and smoke this weed a bit while I get a taste of that ass. I’m a supreme assologist.” I stood up, dropped my shorts, stepped out of them, took the weed, leaned forward and moaned as Zeke buried his face in my hole and started lapping, slurping, tonguing my ass. The deeper the smoke went into my lungs, the deeper Zeke’s tongue went up my ass and I started grinding my hips back as it felt so fucking good. Zeke paused, I was holding a hit, when I almost dropped it and cried out in pain. He had taken advantage of my distracted state to stand up, grab my hips, and push his raw dick into my hole. “JUST RELAX, HIT THAT WEED AGAIN,” ZEKE SAID. “NO, NO,” I HALF-HEARTEDLY REPLIED. “YOU WANT THIS DICK DON’T YOU?” ZEKE ASKED, “I KNOW IT’S BIG, BUT I ALSO KNOW IT FEELS GOOD IN THAT ASS - FOR YOU AND FOR ME BOTH. GO ON, TAKE A BIG HIT - THAT’S IT - JESUS THAT HOLE JUST TOTALLY RELAXED AND YOU GOT ME NOW BOY - YOU GOT DADDY ALL THE WAY IN THAT ASS. TIME TO POUND IT OUT A BIT BEFORE I CUM.” It took me a sec to catch that last part, “Wait - no - no - please don’t cum in me,” I begged, yet I continued to push my ass back, meeting his thrusts and moaning as Zeke fucked me good. “I’M GONNA CUM…” ZEKE WARNED. “Please pull out, please don’t shoot in….” Zeke interrupted my objection like I was not even speaking, “GETTING READY TO BLOW AIDS COTTON CANDY UP THAT ASS - FEEL MY STICK COATING YOU UP? TWIRLING MY AIDS CUM CANDY? GOOD BOY FOR DADDY - YOU A GOOD BOY - TAKE DADDY’S CANDY. FUCK YEAH FILLING THAT ASS!!!” Zeke continued pumping like he had not shot a load in days. His dick finally slid from home, he turned me around, looked into my eyes, smiled, then tilted his head as he leaned down and gave me a long, passionate kiss. “Thank you boy. I needed that.” Zeke whispered. I managed to ask, “Are you really? Did you...I’m NEG and…” Zeke sat down, his pants still around his ankles, his dick slick and shimmering in the flashlight’s glow, “Oh yeah, I coated that ass good with some AIDs nutt. Where’d that lighter go - ah! Nothing like a nice ass, good weed, hey pop me a beer. Let daddy fill this bladder back up, give you a good gut full of piss too.” The mechanical room was feeling awful stuffy and I was feeling a bit sick to my stomach realizing I had just taken a raw dick from someone I did not know, and he said he had AIDs to boot. Zeke patted his thigh, “Get over here. Get down there and suck on it a little. Taste that dirty nutt tang after a good fuck and fuck boy you was tight. Look at that - just thinking about giving you my candy is making my shit get hard again. Here - looks like you best take a few hits of this first. That’s it - some good weed makes it all better. Do what daddy says now, hit it - have another beer, then put this dick back in your mouth.” Zeke was right. The weed and beer helped and even though my mind - OK well a tiny, itsy, bitsy, spec of my mind screamed NO DON’T, I had to have that dick back in my mouth. I had been sucking him a few minutes when it seemed the taste changed. I leaned back, looked at the tip of his dick, and licked my lips at the amount of precum coming out. “Are you really POZ?” I asked. Zeke made a weird facial expression, “Don’t really matter now does it boy? But yes. I am. Toxic, POZ, AIDs bug, raw freak, dirty fucker now stand up and bend over so daddy can punish that ass some more for asking too damn many questions. You got to learn to lighten up, fucking live a little, and that sweet ass is too good to keep to yourself.” Another POZ load up my ass and I was following Zeke across to the far side of the fair grounds where the carnie workers had their trailers parked. I was pretty buzzed and really shouldn’t drive and Zeke offered to let me crash at his place - and said we could keep smoking and drinking. We wound our way through a few rows of RVs, hitch campers, and headed towards a medium sized tow camper hooked up to a beat up brown and white pickup that was parked off to the side from the rest, under a lone parking lot light. I could hear the muffled noise of a TV playing, saw the shifting light of the picture screen through the dingy curtains, and smelled the stench of weed emanating from the tin box. I smiled, yeah no wonder Zeke parked off to the side. Zeke opened the door, stepped in, and I followed, only to be hit by a wave of man funk and thick smoke. “Close the fucking door!” a voice bellowed. I snapped the door shut, Zeke shifted to the side and waved towards the middle of the camper, “This is Isaiah, my little brother.” The shock must have shown on my face as Isaiah looked nothing like Zeke. He was a lot taller, thicker, with long wild hair and a ZZ Top style beard. When he stood up from behind the small inset table, he took up half the fucking camper. My eyes followed his beard/chest hair trail down, across his heavy stomach and then rested on his horse dick, half hidden in a bushel of pubic hair. “Figured you’d be up and wouldn’t mind if I brought us home a little company,” Zeke said. Isaiah set the joint he was smoking down in a filled ashtray on the table, took a long swig from a bottle of beer, and just looked at me with a scowl. “Go on now,” Zeke pushed me a step forward, “He won’t bite - well he will, but not until he’s got that dick buried and you can’t run. He ain’t showered or nothing in about a week, so that dick cheese is ready to be harvested and he’s been saving it up for just such a special occasion.” Isaiah pulled his hair back away from his face with his left hand and looked down at me as I kneeled on the camper floor and reached out for his dick slowly like I was trying to slide a salmon away from a grizzly. I eased the long foreskin back and rolled it into a series of ridges behind his crusted, pale dick head. Zeke was right. There was enough cheese that you could have slathered up some bread and hit the griddle. A tap on my right shoulder, “Here, once you get it mostly clean huff on these. Fresh bottle of Jungle Juice poppers - will clean that palette, make your hole ease open, and turn you into a total pig boy for your daddies.” I gagged, choked, swallowed and when I tried to pull off his growing horse dick Zeke stepped close behind as Isaiah held my head so I had no place, and way to run. Their bodies pressed tighter and I heard them moan and other sounds. Were they kissing? Christ that gives whole new meaning to brotherly love. I’m a damn good dick sucker and love a challenge, so I kept pushing forward until my nose was buried in the top of his pubic hair and my throat was convulsing around his shaft. I couldn’t breath, but knew that was OK and started to count in my head, 1 sec, 2 sec, 3 sec,...I hit 27 before the brothers separated. I pulled back, gasping. Isaiah pulled me up, pushed me towards the back of the camper and as I lay on my back on the bed he tossed the bottle of poppers at me. I opened the cap, spilled some on my hand, sniffed them good and deep and pulled my legs back. I needed that big country dick up my ass - NOW! “POZ HIS HOLE MAN. I ALREADY DUMPED TWO LOADS OF MY AIDS COTTON CUM CANDY UP IN THERE AND HE WANTS IT - HE NEEDS IT - TOTAL NEG BUG CHASER!” Zeke said from behind his brother. Isaiah had my legs up so my ankles were hooked on his shoulders and he was slamming my ass as deep as he could go with no foreplay. The initial shock of his entry had quickly given way to a fucking fantasy fuck. Isaiah’s long hair fall down the sides of his face, framing his intense stare as he looked in my eyes with a serious, focused glare. I reached up and starting tugging at his nipples. His left upper lip curled, I twisted harder, and his lip now curled up enough to show teeth, as his breathing got louder. I had to have it all so I begged while I twisted his nipples as hard as I could, “FUCK ME. POZ ME, PLEASE GIVE ME YOUR AIDS, PLEASE POZ ME.” My ass had never been so totally owned as it was right then. Isaiah pulled me a bit closer to the front of the bed, bent me over even more so he could hook his hands up behind my shoulders. I had never knowingly taken a POZ dick before his brother. I sure as hell had never begged for it. But there was some primal drive, some awakening in my soul, a realization of some new need, desire, to be owned, marked, taken, filled, and bred by any dick I came across no matter the consequences. Isaiah leaned down and started kissing me; his beard scratching my lips and face and he grunted, growled, and tongue bathed me. He picked up his dick pace and I thought for sure he was going to cum, but then he eased off, started doing slower strokes, which just made me crazy. “DON’T STOP!” I gasped. He then slammed hard and fast once more, my moans lost in his open mouth as we melded our spit. Again he eased off, slowed his strokes, which was not right - I needed that dick! OVER AND OVER ISAIAH FILLED ME DEEP THEN EASED BACK TO TEASE MY HOLE. MY BODY WAS QUIVERING AND MY ASS WAS SPASMING AND BEFORE I KNEW WHAT WAS HAPPENING I ARCHED MY BACK, ISAIAH SENSED THE CHANGE IN MY BODY AND SLAMMED IT HARD AND DEEP AS HE COULD, AND I STARTED TO SHOOT TWIZZLER LIKE STRANDS OF HOT CUM BETWEEN OUR TORSOS WITHOUT EVER HAVING JACKED MY DICK. THE CLENCHING OF MY HOLE ON HIS RAW DICK WAS ALL ISAIAH NEEDED, AND HE TOO STARTED TO GRUNT AS SPUN OUT HIS AIDS COTTON CANDY DEEP IN MY ASS. Once the draining of his charged load was complete, Isaiah pulled himself out and off me, gently shoved me to the side, crawled up on the backside of the bed and promptly started snoring. I gave him a look of indignation as Zeke laughed, “Oh, don’t worry. He’s like that. Just needs a quick catnap is all. He’ll be back up in no time ready to go another round. In the meantime, come out here and smoke with me and while you hit this fresh roll let me stir his nutt around in your hole with my dick. That shit was hot as fuck!” That’s how the rest of the evening and night went - the two brothers taking turns sharing a joint, sharing a drink, sharing my ass and mouth. As I left their camper in the morning, Isaiah - who I learned was a man of few words but a whole lot of action - shoved a crumpled up piece of paper into my hands with a smile. Once I had made it to my car, I ironed the paper out on the car seat. It was a schedule for the summer of the dates and towns where the carnival was going to be along with a handwritten note at the bottom, “WE’LL BE HERE TWO MORE WEEKS AND YOU ARE WELCOME BACK ANY NIGHT. WE GOT ROOM ON THE ROAD FOR ONE MORE TOO - SO WHAT ARE YOU DOING THE REST OF THE SUMMER?” (*From the author: If you like the story let me know - post a reply or give a reputation. Thanks to everyone who takes the time to read these stories and for the continued support!)

Point Break - Part 2: Hotel Hoe Down : I reached up and eased the plastic off my head, wiped the sweat and grime from my face, rolled over and looked for my shadow man. Once again he was silhouetted against the single light, all shades of darkness, and then he spoke, “Good slut. You want some more breeder dick? Fucking white bitch twitch.” My trip to NYC was going great so far. I had checked in, taken some anonymous dick in my room when this superior BBC master I had chatted with sent his buddy to ‘inspect me’. I got bred and fucked good, then was told to go up to the 17th floor, where, amidst the debris and chaos of the floor renovation, the BBC, or shadow man since I had not seen his face, got me high on a crack pipe then pounded the fucking living daylights out of my ass. I WONDER WHAT ELSE HE HAD PLANNED FOR ME? “You want some more rock?” the shadow man asked. I was relishing the heat radiating from my ass, picturing his AIDS nutt burrowing like the great worms of Dune through my intestinal wall. I got up onto my knees and replied, “Yeah, sure.” Shadow man stepped forward, his POZ dick so close, his face darker than a summer storm when he reached down and cuffed me good, “Try that again hoe - that’s no way to address your superior black master especially after he just gifted you. So, if you trying to be that drugged-up-pussy-slut, how do you think you respond - huh?” I hung my head, “YES SIR - MASTER SIR - ANYTHING YOU SAY - WANT ME TO DO. I’LL DO IT. YES SIR MASTER.” He chuckled, “Fucking dick hungry white cunts. That’s better. You learn quick. Good thing because me and my homies plan to seed that manhole. Show you how big and filthy and nasty the Big Apple sewer rats are. Fill you with gutta-snipe dick, infected jizz, sling that dope in your lungs and veins, and make you O.D. every which way imaginable.” Hell yeah! I was still trying to process each part of what he had just said when shadow man stepped out of my line of vision, went behind me, grabbed the plastic sheeting, then I heard him cut into it with a knife or some other instrument. He walked up behind me, rested his still hard dick on my right shoulder and I about broke my neck trying to twist it so I could touch him with my tongue. He lowered a big slice of plastic construction sheeting down in front of my face, moved his hands in unison towards the back of my head and said, “Reach up and grab it in the back right where my hand is at.” I lifted my left hand and grabbed the stiff, slick, plastic. Shadow man was behind me and I heard RRRRIIIIPPPPP. “Stay fucking still and don’t worry. Won’t have you falling out on me just yet, but if you real good got a buddy who will choke you out just as he slams his monster dick in to breed you - you won’t fucking believe how that feels. Anyways, going to tape this shit up, wrap you up like a bag of medical waste and will then cut a hole flap for your mouth/nose in a minute so you can take the pipe, wet the dick, swallow the piss, and whatever the else I fucking decide to stuff your gullet with. What do you say fag boy?” Even through the plastic now covering my face he could clearly hear my reply, “YES SIR - MASTER SIR - ANYTHING YOU SAY - WANT ME TO DO. I’LL DO IT. YES SIR MASTER.” Having wrapped my head in plastic and duct tape like a mummy, shadow man then stood in front of me and said, “You better not flinch, otherwise you can play the Joker in the next Batman movie.” He gripped the plastic between his fingers and slowly sliced into it making a diagonal line left to right from just about my left nostril down to the right corner of my mouth, then reversed the process so the plastic had a big X cut into it. He shoved two fingers through the hole. I opened my mouth; he scraped up my gums and cheeks a bit as I spread my jaw wider and wider. “Yeah, that’ll do,” he proclaimed. Shadow man stepped away, “Aiight, open that air hole up so you can hit this big rock. You ain’t no baby bird no more so I want to see a true fucking rock star you hear me? Suck that shit up; hold it deep, I want you to tweak the fuck out. You are going to give up control one way or the other - willingly or not - I don’t give a fuck which and before we’re done you’ll be begging to have me slut you to the NYPD mounted patrol so that hoe pussy can get filled with 4-legged horse dick.” CLICK - the lighter caught, the rock hissed as it sparked, the cool glass quickly warmed up between my lips and I almost flinched and pulled away as the flame felt awful close to my face, but I held steady. “Good bitch - good bitch. Take that smoke,” my superior BBC master said. Over and over, back to back, I hit the pipe and was getting fidgety as hell. He then stepped away, I could hear him inhaling, exhaling, could smell the rank particles filling the air. “We all good - come on now. The homies are waiting,” he said. I stood up, let him turn me around, and reached back to try to find his hard shaft and grabbed on. “Dick hungry hoe huh? Tell me faggot hoe how you going to make this superior black man proud tonight?” I spit the words out quicker than Vanilla Ice, “Fuck me master. As much as you want - as many guys as you want - whore me out - drug me up - no limits MASTER - just infect me, POZ me, fill me with dirty dick, seed, dick...of Jesus I’m kinda fucked up. Um...make me take your piss, slap me, choke me, spank me, um...fuck me - oh wait I said that. Use your toothbrush on me MASTER - my mouth and ass - um...pussy cunt. Manhole.” Shadow man laughed, slapped my ass cheeks hard, grabbed my hips then slammed his raw dick back in with no warning as he filled me, “Fuck yeah white bitch twitch. All that and more and that’s just the beginning. I got a whole lotta R&B planned for you. Rob you and beat you - rape you and breed you - rim you and bang you - rip you up and bust you out. I may O.D. you just to watch you shake, sweat, puke, shit, and hallucinate until you think you at fucking Coney Island before I put that pipe back to those lips and set you right just so I can edge you back out all over again with one fucked up trip after another.” My mind reeled as he roughly grabbed my wrists, pulled my arms behind my back and twisted, “And that’s just tonight.” I groaned as he slid his BBC out of my hungry ass, and shook with need for the pleasures that awaited me down the rabbit hole. “Come on” he said as he pushed me forward, “I’m just walking you down the hall. I got you. Don’t worry. You won’t fall or shit. Homies are waiting.” He paused, slammed me face up against the door jam, drove his dick back in me, and snarled, “Nothing gets my POZ nutts churning that boy cunt butter like watching my home boys use a hoe bitch - totally anonymous - on the DL. Big dicks one and all. Rough trade shit - and each and every motha-fuckin one has AIDs or some sketchy shit to breed in that puss puss. They’ll be fighting, drinking, drugging, and whoring - you being the whore. What? Don’t fuckin worry about where we going. Jesus. I can see we need to keep that mouth stuffed. OK - you saw all the construction shit up here? Well a couple years back some folks from China or some shit bought the place. Thought we were going to be the next big thing, so they decided to tear shit up. Make it all high end. Well, what they didn’t realize is folks with that kind of cash don’t come to this part of town. Nothing here. So shit tanked - new owners, whatever. Anyways, things got left as they are with no money or plans in the future to fix it. So, I use it for my needs - to breed and POZ dumb fucks like you, and more. Just down the hall is the only room they done up - a suite - or what would have been a new suite. It was a model of how they thought the whole place would look. Come on now. Enough yapping.” I let the superior BBC master guide me through the debris, down the hall until he stopped, “OK, let’s do another rock real quick like. Huff it up like you having a baby - an AIDs baby - my baby - you about to give birth so suck that smoke good.” This time the smoke scalded my windpipe and lungs going down and coming up - it was like inhaling acid! Satisfied, he rapped on the door - paused - rapped twice real fast - paused, then again. Nothing. I could hear him slide his key card in and the door caught as he opened it, “GOD DAMN IT MUTHA-FUCKAS. WHY THE HELL DID YOU LOCK THE DOOR? COME ON NOW AND LET ME IN - I GOT TONIGHT’S PINK PUSSY TREAT AND THE HOE IS ALL LOOSEY-GOOSEY.” The door lock was flipped back; a wave of voices, smells, and other noises permeated the plastic wrapped around my head. “Where’s that tin foil - don’t fuckin burn it through man - hell! Who got a fresh needle? Man I hope that puta gets here soon - I need to piss something fierce. Yo - who snagged by box of rocks? Motha-fuckas better step up! You dealing or what man? Come on now. The bet is good.” Almost as one all the voices hushed like the Pope had just entered the room. Through the opaque plastic I could make out just general shades of darkness, light, movement and the bright areas in front of me filled into dark voids and multiple men gathered round - how many I had no idea. I was turning my head side to side like a hooded falcon on an Arabian prince’s arm. Shadow man spoke up, “Hey, hey HEY! Jesus it’s like running a God-damn day care sometimes with you all. Listen up. So far, this hoe has done good - real good. But - and you know what I mean when I say but - the faggot gurl still has some proving to do. So, I need to go down to the restaurant and fix some shit real quick. In the meantime - HEY HEY HEY fuckin shut up! In the meantime, just stick to the pipe for now but no limits on the man cunt aiight? I already marked that pussy good so POZ it up, bloody it up, beat it up, what the fuck ever I don’t care.” My BBC master let go of my arm, voices were raised, hands grabbed me, and before I could barely take a breath I was bent over with some uncut, slimy dick fucking my mouth while a toilet paper roll sized one fucked my ass. The voices started again… “Yo, pull off that mouth - let me share this spark - come on now, take the pipe - suck it up, yeah bitch - yeah! Fucking wet pussy right here guys - fucking wet - sloppy - fuck that’s good - already dropped some cum - who’s next? Back off nicca! You and those fucking toys - no way man! We only using this hoe for dick - dick dick dick. Need me to say it again? Why does Carlos always try lifting them ankles up when he sees my big black dick swinging? You going all gurly on us Carlos? Or you going to do some baby momma making? HA! Come open that mouth and lick my fuckin drip! Get ready for this Superman dick! Wait no - Iron Man - yeah my shit’s brick hard - oh fuck - wait - Thor dick - with my war hammer! You dumb ass - Thor’s white! He needs this Black Panther Dick prison fuck down. Let me climb up in that hole and show you what’s what. Skeet skeet - take them babies in that fag cunt! Swallow - don’t fuckin dribble! That’s some good piss right yo! Hey - who can film this shit - look at them ass lips stretch for my monster! Fucking-eh niccas, homie got us a true freak sub! Look at that shim’s cunt pulse after I brushed it good - all bloody and ready for my POZ load - fuck yeah!” On and on it went as one after another of the dudes gave me the smoke, gave me the pipe, gave me their manly juices from spit, to piss, to nutt and more nutt. Like shadow man said, there was plenty of fighting and shit and I was not the only one who was going to leave that room with bruises. I was on my back on the couch; my legs lifted high and up so the top fucking me could dig in deep. His dark image a blur through the plastic homemade hoodie as he pounded and with each thrust he worked to fill my mouth with his spit as he practiced lobbing chunks at my open, eager air hole. Someone sat down on the couch to the right, patted my head, and said, “Well, well, well. I see the hoe’s found what that pussy needed.” It was shadow man. “Remember I said I got a buddy who will choke you out as he breeds you? He just rolled in from the clubs and is horny as shit, so as soon as my boy here gets his nutt, you are going on a new trip.” While shadow man sat with his hand on the couch beside mine, his buddy finished his business and dumped some more cum in my raw ass. “Come on,” shadow man said as he helped me stand up. I was a bit dizzy, my legs cramped, cum and ass juice were running down my legs. He pushed/steered me away from the din of his homies’ voices, into another room, and shut the door, then said, “My boy is a gully gangsta nicca who goes hard. He’s an extreme motha-fucka, but knows his shit; so don’t be tripping over it. Enjoy the fucking ride. Here, sit on the toilet, let your guts release whatever the hell you got stored up in there - you ain’t U-Haul - then we’ll dab you out with some hoe tampons, make you nice and dry so you’ll feel it good when he takes you.” I had my eyes closed behind the plastic hood over my head. Not sure why, maybe just my body’s way of trying to reset, relax, and let flow what needed to flow. Have you ever tried to wipe your ass without being able to see? I had to laugh at my attempts, but shadow man stood me up, dabbed me dry, and inspected me to make sure I was good. He flushed and closed the lid then had me sit back down. “Can I hit the pipe?” I asked. He just laughed, walked away, the door closed, I was alone - or so I thought. CLICK - - - HISS - CLICK - - - HISS - echoed from the far corner. I tilted my head, turned, and for the first time saw the darkness of a large monster hiding in the corner with a long flame spitting up to burn his smoke. I didn’t dare move, or speak. CLICK - - - HISS - CLICK - - - HISS - and then the flame died, the monster moved, and his darkness filled the void. “Stand the fuck up, bend over, and show me that cunt,” the monster growled. His claws dug into my tender, used, flesh hole, then he spun me around and I could imagine his incisors long, and sharp, ready to rend my flesh apart. His face was inches from mine, his breath hot on the bits of skin that showed through the cut in the plastic hood. He reeked of smoke, liquor, and more. My wrists were grabbed hard, my hands raised and set against his bearded, square-jawed head, “Feel my face - run your fingers on my grill - hmmm - make those memories of your executioner - imagine in your mind the roughest thug nicca you can, times that shit by 10, and still you be bowing at my feet as the scrap of worthless hoe flesh you are.” I was turned around and a beast dick pressed at my hole. “This that grown man dick that none these youngins can give you,” the monster promised. Cold steel then pressed against my skin as he slid a knife between the plastic hood and my lower neck. Gently he edged up, got a finger underneath, and made small saw cuts creating a flap in the back. I thought he was going to take the plastic hood off me, but instead, he wound layers of duct tape around my forehead and over my eyes and bridge of my nose, securing the plastic in place on my head and cutting off what little light remained in my world. My chest heaved in and out as my adrenaline kicked in, but I held myself steady against the bath vanity. The knife was laid on the counter as this BBC monster slid his open hands up my spine, parted to the right and left sides of my neck, and then with practiced ease interlocked his muscled hands around my throat. He began tapping his right index finger against the spot on my neck where my carotid artery pulsed and fluttered like he was setting his own body’s clock and rhythm to mine. He pressed his body closer and I could feel his stiff dick at my asshole. He set his head against mine, his face by my left ear - closer still and he was ready. “Usually I got to pay to have a knock out thot delivered cause I’m not going down again on no rape charge, but while you are free, you sure the fuck not willing!” The monster slammed his mutant dick into me dry and I yelped in pain, and his grip tightened, “Feel your god’s hands around that throat squeezing your life out - feel your god’s dick in your ass, filling you with my AIDs death. Prep won’t do you no good. My shit is totally med resistant and toxic and now I can add another tear drop tattoo to my face, and…” I was out. My eyes fluttered. I felt the heavy weight of the ocean on me like I was a sub that had been torpedoed and begun to sink, but slowly started to find my way back to the surface, back to the light, bobbing once more upon the waves. I was still bent over the vanity - well slumped - with the monster’s claws digging into my neck as he ravaged my now, wet hole with his breeding stick. I fought to stand up straight, to feel him go deeper, and he growled his approval. I grabbed his powerful forearms as he mauled me and scratched and slapped and scrabbled as the monster invaded my flesh and secured me in its death grip. “FUCKING CUNT TAKE THIS NICCA DICK - RAPE THE FUCK OUTTA YOU! GOD DAMN PUSSY FAGGOT - FEEL MY 11-INCHES RIP YOU A NEW ASS HOLE - INFECT THE FUCK OUTTA YOU! BEAT YOU TO DEATH FROM THE INSIDE OUT! POZZING YOU FUCKING BITCH - POZZING YOU GOOD - PO….” and I was out again as he squeezed my neck full force. There was an incessant pounding in my head - no on my head and why was it so fucking loud? My eyes took a quick peek, closed, reopened, and then closed again. Quit fucking slapping me! Well that’s what I thought, but not a sound came out of my mouth. I groaned. Shadow man’s voice loomed over me, “Come on back now - there you go - he’s a fucking pro but some bitches take longer to come back around than others and guess you’re one of the slow ones.” I moaned again, someone rolled me onto my right side, my ass was pried apart, “JESUS FUCKING CHRIST LOOK AT THAT - CRAZY NICCA TORE THAT SHIT UP!” someone said, followed by, “LET ME CLIMB ON THAT SHIT - SCOPE IT GOOD.” Shadow man rolled me back over, “Fucking wait a minute bro, fuck. Come on, help me sit him up a sec, here, drink this, it’s just water, drink it all. There you. Feeling better huh? Yeah you are.” I was on a bed, well a mattress as there were no sheets or anything. I turned my head left then right, dark demons shifted in and out of the light and I reached up to touch my sore neck and throat. Appeared shadow man had rebuilt my plastic hood as the duct tape was gone off my eyes, the cut in the back repaired, and once again I was just an anonymous cum dump for whatever dick needed a hole. Shadow man spoke again, “I need you to scoot up a little - you OK - there you go - now get on your hands and knees - now feel my dick - OK back up, back up, fuck yeah that feel good? I know it does. You’re such a fucking cock slut! Now I’m going to lay back and want you to come with me - just roll back, keep my dick in you, and lie on top of me - yeah just like that. Yeah I know that pussy’s hurting, but we’re about to take care of that real good - real fucking good.” My ass was on fire, and my whole abdomen hurt, it hurt to even breath, but shadow man wrapped his arms around my chest, held me tight to his warm body, and continued to monitor my temp with his BBC buried to the hilt in my swollen ass. My superior BBC master provided the commentary to fill me in on what was happening now, “TIME TO GET YOU POINTED OUT. EVER TAKEN CRYSTAL THROUGH A NEEDLE? HEROIN? ANYTHING? OH DAMN - A VIRGIN! SHIT - WELL NOT FOR ANY LONGER. MY HOMIE HERE IS ABOUT TO WRAP A RED CANVAS BELT AROUND YOUR RIGHT BICEP. FEEL THAT TUGGING TIGHT? OK, NOW HE HELD THE SYRINGE UP TO HIS MOUTH, PUT THE ORANGE CAP BETWEEN HIS JACKED UP TEETH - REALLY MAN YOU NEED A GRILL OR SOME SHIT TO COVER THAT FREAKNESS UP. ANYWAYS, HE’S GOT THE CAP IN HIS TEETH AND IS NOW CHECKING THE SYRINGE. THE SYRINGE HAS A BIG METAL RING ON THE END, LIKE A GRENADE PIN YOU KNOW? HE’S GOT HIS FINGER THROUGH THAT AND - WAIT - OK - NOW YOU’LL FEEL HIM TAP YOUR RIGHT ARM. WHAT’S HE DOING? HE’S LOOKING FOR A VEIN. A VEIN HE CAN INJECT YOU IN. THIS AINT’ NO KIDDIE MEDICINE YOU GET SQUIRTED IN YOUR MOUTH. THIS IS TURN-YOU-INTO-A-SEX-SLAVE SHIT COCKTAIL. YOU DON’T THINK I MAKE A LIVING WORKING AT THIS HOTEL DO YOU? FUCK JESUS - THANK GOD FOR NAIVE FAG PUSSY LIKE YOU. OK - CHRIST YOU GOT SOME GOOD VEINS - WE’LL SEE HOW LONG THOSE LAST. OK, HE’S DOUBLE CHECKING THE SYRINGE, LITTLE SQUIRT, NOW JUST BY YOUR ELBOW CREASE YOU WILL FEEL A LITTLE PRICK - JUST A LITTLE - THEN MAYBE SOME COOLNESS. FEEL THAT? HE’S FILLED YOUR VEIN UP GOOD. NOW GET READY - HERE COMES THE FUCKING RUSH - WHEN HE PULLS THE BELT OFF YOU’LL WANT TO COUGH, THAT’S OK, JUST LET IT OUT, I GOT YOU.” Everything then happened so fast. The belt came off my arm, my body went extra dimensional, I got so fucking hot - voices were crashing around inside my head. What the fuck did you give me?” I managed to blurt, “I want to go back to my room. Take me to my room, I…I don’t like this...I…” The next anonymous dick slid into my cum filled hole with ease. I moaned in contentment as I once again felt like a turkey filled with stuffing at a Pilgrim Thanksgiving, dripping with sauce. My intentions were innocent enough when I answered the man’s ad. OK, well maybe not, but even with the empty rigs lying on the floor, the multiple raw dicks that had bred me, and the BBC maintenance man/pimp repeatedly calling me his, “White bitch twitch,” code for drugged-up-cum-chaser, I had yet to admit to myself how far I had fallen. Once again my arm was tapped as one of the anonymous breeders prepared to infect my ass and veins. In a brief moment of clarity I wondered, “This was only my first night. What would day two be like?” (*From the author: If you like the story let me know - post a reply or give a reputation. Thanks to everyone who takes the time to read these stories and for the continued support!)