whthole4u

Hotel Hoe Down: 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. I was like an angel who had come to Earth and sexually tainted my eternal light with the darkness of sex and depravity. The Watcher had become the watched. My ass was being used as a flesh hole for raw dick and cum. My veins were being used as a transport network for whatever drugs my superior BBC master decided I needed. My mouth was being used as their urinal. I was still in the first stage of denial - shock - but the rest would come, I was sure, until finally I hit the last stage of acceptance and embraced who I had become. A drugged-up-AIDs-chasing-slut. In hindsight, maybe as the saying goes, “He doth protest too much.” I had been planning my vacation to New York City for months and a major part of that effort was scoping out who the big dicked tops were in the city - the raw fucking big dicked tops. I methodically reviewed all the members on the various hookup sites I was already on and even scoured the web for new, and different sites to explore to find some good dick. I found the usual suspects, most of whom I figured were fakes, but sent messages, chatted back and forth, and ‘lined up’ a few promising dicks to get me stuffed with raw man meat and cum during my vacation. If all went as planned I would not leave the hotel for five days as I would be too busy getting fucked. Plan B was that I would hit an ABS to find whatever nasty trade I could. But now I’m getting ahead of myself a little as while I normally stay at a hotel chain where I get points on my credit card, for this trip I chose a different one, one where a 10-inch BBC worked. When I first saw his online ad, I figured it was too good to be true. I mean, really, this dude checked all my boxes - BBC, nasty, raw top, POZ, smoked, drank, drugs, thuggish, and more. Well, you can see for yourself why I was intrigued and my hole was dripping when I responded to his post: YOU WILLING TO GET FUCKED HOW I SAY? OBEY A SUPERIOR BBC MASTER? Harlem nicca here. Work in a hotel, looking for slut bottoms who need their hole seeded. My rules, my way only. You must pass inspection. My buddy will come check that ass out. If he says it’s good then game on fuckas! I wanna breed my nut in YOU! The Dept of Health got my number. Who want to be added to the contact list? POZ breeder - take it or fuck off! I shook as I typed a reply and my brain spun thinking of how such a connect might play out. Yet I knew it was likely it was all fake - but hell, might as well give it a shot. To my surprise the guy responded and without asking the 101 questions every other guy in NYC had generally been asking. He only asked one - again, “YOU WILLING TO GET FUCKED HOW I SAY?” Of course I said yes. Little did I know what that would mean. Finally the day arrived and I was all set for my vacation. I had shipped a box via FedEx to the hotel with some ‘supplies’ to make sure I could prep, have some poppers, fuck towels etc… Getting a tub of Elbow Grease through security in my carry on was not an option, and I didn’t want to fill by luggage with nothing but fuck towels - a nice dark brown to hide any stains and not ruin the institutional white sheets and coverlets most hotels use these days. Once at the hotel, I unpacked, prepped, and at 2:45 texted the BBC Master as he had instructed, “I’m in room 632. Door unlocked. Bent over the bed. Blindfolded. Waiting as MASTER ordered.” I was anxious and paced back and forth on the worn carpet. Would he text me back? Was this a set up? Fuck I should have had a drink or something. Instead I grabbed the poppers and did a snuff. OK, better, but not - fuck! He texted me back. “You got 60 seconds to get ready. Bend over, white pussy ass out. You run - my man is out. You say anything - my man leaves. You make a fucking move and are anything but a cum hole - we done.” I quickly threw my phone up on the bed, bent over, slid the blindfold down across my eyes and huffed the poppers hard. I had a fuck towel set out on my right with a bottle of Elbow Grease H2O gel as ordered and a fuck towel to my left. My ass was prelubed, the lights were off except for the hall light. I waited. The door latch clicked as the handle was turned. The door banged against the jamb and clicked shut. Silence. Hard breathing, the shuffling of fabric, keys, a belt unloosening, the scrape of sharp nails against my skin, then my hole, then an evil chuckle as the skin cells of my ass ring were scraped like excess paint off a window sill. I wanted to flinch, cry out, move, beg for his dick but remembered what the BBC MASTER has said, so I stayed as still as a fawn being stalked by a wolf. The digging at my hole paused. I heard the flick of a lighter, the hiss as something caught flame, the sucking in of lung fulls of smoke - pause - then a great exhale. Jesus he was smoking in my room! Fuck! I was going to get charged for that damn it! I recognized that smell though - crack. I had a few street buddies from DC who smoked rock and the smell is unmistakable - sharp, sticky, chalky, with a mix of burnt toast. The lighter flicked again, the anonymous top exhaled, I heard the clink of glass onto the cabinet holding the TV, then felt his nails again as he clawed at my ass even harder now. My hole was getting wet; the top’s breathing was getting heavier as the crack kicked in. Damn I hoped his dick could still get a hard on and fuck. I should not have worried. The anonymous top leaned over my back, his dick head pressing against my ass. Shit he felt thick and his skin was hot like a white ember in a furnace. He moaned as he scored his fingers down my back and sides, kneaded my ass cheeks like a kitten on a pussy’s tummy, then grunted as he slammed his hard dick at my raw hole. I had to bury my face in the pillow and stuff my mouth with the white cotton to keep from not crying out. The fierce pain was like a bullet piercing my flesh, but in slow motion. Little by little he pushed into my ass. The raw, anonymous dick split me open, fucked me hard, and pounded me like a nail with a sledge hammer. I took it just like the BBC Master ordered and before long was rewarded with a deep grunt, a stiff dick, a ball spasm, and hot cum spewing like river rapids into my raw ass. Once he was satisfied, my anonymous benefactor slid his dick out, grabbed a fuck towel, mumbled something, tossed the towel onto my back, hiked up his pants, then left the way he came in. I stood up, stretched, yanked the blindfold off, went to the bathroom to rub my eyes and took some toilet paper to rub my tender hole - pink and red. Yeah he fucked me good. I wanted to keep the nutt in and flicked the lights on and went back to the bed and stopped - there on the bed was a white envelope: “10:30. COME TO THE 17TH FLOOR. END OF HALL TO THE RIGHT IF YOU WANT THAT POZ NUTT.” I opened the envelope and inside was a key card, like for a hotel room, but which one? I held the anonymous load of cum in as long as I could. When I finally went to the bathroom I had some sharp pain, like razors slicing my hole. He must have ripped me up some. I also felt tweaked out - can you get a contact high from a crack smoker through his cum? I figured yes. Repeatedly I checked my phone seeing if the BBC Master had texted or emailed me. I guessed I passed his first test but hell, who knows with these fakers and spammers. I was happily surprised someone showed up at all and eager for more dick and while I wanted to head to the ABS or online to find some more dick, I waited. At 10:25 I left my room, looked to the left then the right down the hotel hallway, then made my way to the elevator bank. I stepped in and pressed 17. Nothing happened. I hit it again. Nothing. I pulled the key card out of my pocket, swiped it against the small black square set below the floor buttons, it turned green, 17 lighted up, and I was on my way. The elevator stopped, the doors opened, and I stepped off into a dimly lit construction zone. I guess this was a floor they were remodeling as there was a cloud of perpetual dust, rows of plastic hanging off the wall and ceiling, piles of debris, and workshop style lights that fluttered in and out. Yeah, I know, this is the scene in Law and Order where the dumb ass criminal who is trying to escape the cops gets taken out by a serial killer or some shit. I looked to the left, then the right, headed down the hall stepping over bits and piles of construction debris and dodging drapes of hanging plastic from the ceiling. The only sound besides the thumping of my heart was the thrum of a generator, or machinery someplace. All the doors to the rooms were open and only darkness could be seen, not even a glint of light from outside. As I got closer to the last room on my right I noticed a faint glow coming from the room. I paused, listened; there was a soft CLICK, a rustling of plastic. I peered around the doorway and saw a large, dark shape of a man silhouetted against a single workshop light hanging from the ceiling behind him standing beside the shadowed outline of a stepladder. His face was in shadows, and to make it even murkier - and creepier - he was standing behind a sheet of opaque plastic hanging down from the ceiling. CLICK - the lighter caught, the brief flicker of flame near the shadow man’s head showed he was smoking something. Bright embers shimmered in the glass pipe like little distant stars behind the plastic sheeting. “WHAT THE FUCK YOU WAITING FOR BOY? GET THEM FUCKING CLOTHES OFF, THEN THE FUCK OVER HERE, BEND THOSE KNEES, AND GIVE ME SOME NECK. TASTE THIS POZ DICK!” the shadow man bellowed. CLICK - the lighter caught again and even as I got closer I still could not make out any details of his face. I paused, pulled off my t-shirt, shorts, kicked off my sneakers, and adjusted my now hard dick. CLICK - the lighter torched once more and just as I thought I might catch a glimmer of this POZ breeder, the flame died. The smoke was thick close to the plastic and smelled like crack, but way stronger. As I got nearer I also noticed there was a hole cut in the plastic and the shadow man had his dick stuck through it. I knelt on the dirty concrete floor, lifted his long breeding stick up, and placed the head on my tongue so I could savor his infected drip. “THAT’S IT BOY. TASTE THAT SUPERIOR BBC DICK. TASTE THAT MASTER DICK THAT’S GONNA FILL THAT CLOWN HOLE. I’M GONNA SMASH THAT BOY PUSSY GOOD AND MAKE YOU O.D. ON SOME AIDS NUTT. YEAH GOT SOME THUG TREATS FOR YOU FAGGOT - HELL YEAH - LOVE A COCK HUNGRY FAGGOT HOE WHO NEEDS THEIR PUSSY RAPED BY A TRUE SUPERIOR BBC MASTER. AIN’T THAT RIGHT? DON’T TALK WITH YOUR MOUTH FULL NOW - JUST FOCUS ON MAKING IT SLOPPY.” As his dick extended to its full width and length I had to brace myself and work to take what I could. I was beginning to think unlike most tops, he had undersold his assets, as clearly it felt bigger than 10-inches. “GOOD HOE SLUT. HOLD YOUR NECK ROLL A MINUTE - NO DON’T MOVE YOUR MOUTH, KEEP IT JUST LIKE THAT. DON’T FUCKING MOVE YOUR HEAD OR WE’RE DONE AND YOU DON’T GET THIS DICK UP THAT PUSSY YOU HEAR ME!” I wasn’t sure what he was trying to do at first and it made me jump a little when something hard and bristly pushed through the plastic gloryhole and at my mouth alongside his dick. He had stuck his hand through the hole too along with a hard bristle toothbrush. With his dick still in my mouth he jammed the brush in alongside his dick. He tried to brush my gums but between the angle and his dick filling my mouth, he just couldn’t make it happen. Quickly, he realized that too, “I’M GONNA PULL MY DICK BACK FOR A MINUTE SO WE CAN PREP YOUR AIR HOLE. PUT YOUR MOUTH RIGHT UP TO THE SPOT THERE, OPEN WIDE, AND USE YOUR FINGERS TO STRETCH YOUR LIPS OUT. REMEMBER, DON’T FUCKING MOVE YOUR HEAD OR WE’RE DONE!!” I did as the shadow man ordered and winced and whimpered as he had success and started gouging my gums good with his brush. Side to side, up and down, top then bottom, he was like an evil dentist. Tears ran out of the corners of my eyes, he pulled the brush back, the lighter went CLICK, he chuckled, “FUCK YEAH BLOODY HOE AIR HOLE. TOLD YOU I WAS GOING TO POZ YOU AT BOTH ENDS. JUST LIKE PAINTING A HOUSE YOU GOT TO PRIME THOSE WALLS FIRST BEFORE YOU ADD THE FINISH COAT. NOW SCOOP SOME OF MY AIDS DRIP OFF MY DICK AND WORK IT AROUND YOUR GUMS THEN SLIDE MY MEAT UP AND DOWN YOUR TONGUE, INSIDE YOUR CHEEKS REAL NICE AND GOOD. OH YEAH THAT’S THE SHIT. FUCK YEAH HOE SLUT, FUCK YEAH.” My BBC master was pleased with how I obeyed and so decided I should get another treat, “That was good hoe fag. I like how you are whimpering cause you so hungry for my dick. Don’t worry, if you continue to please me I will make sure that body gets all the AIDS dick and nutt you can handle and then some you can’t. First, I want you to take this pipe. AH AH AH NO QUESTIONS! Good. The only time that mouth should be open is when I tell it to be. Like I was saying, take this pipe, hold it firm between your lips. I’ll heat the bowl and when I say so, you inhale deep as you can and hold it until I say stop and release.” Shadow man passed a glass object through the hole that was about as long as a pen with a rounded bulb on the end. I held it level as I bent forward a little, placed the end between my lips, and tried not to imagine him setting the plastic on fire or some shit. CLICK - he held the lighter’s flame below the bowl and swirled it around in little circles, “Go on now - suck it in good and deep and hold it no matter what. You’ll want to cough, but don’t, fight it - fight it - fight it a little...more...OK you can release.” When I did I coughed, hacked, and gasped for air as the world spun a bit and I got a wicked rush. Shadow man laughed, “Fucking slut - that was good and got my dick brick as shit. Let’s do that a few times.” I kept running my tongue back and forth and in and out of my mouth like dog that had just been given peanut butter. The taste was funky, the smoke had made the places where he had gouged my mouth up itch and burn, and I was tripping a bit. “Yo bitch, focus, put your mouth back here. That was a warm up. This time, inhale harder, hold it longer, and you’ll repeat several times in a row until the shit’s down. Come on now, that’s it.” By the time that round of hitting the pipe was done I good and buzzed. Shit I liked that and wanted more. I mumbled something but even I didn’t know what I said and shadow man just laughed, wagged the tooth brush back through the hole, “BEND THE FUCK OVER HOE - TIME TO PREP THAT PUSSY SO I CAN DUMP SOME AIDS BABIES.” I backed my ass to the plastic gloryhole, bent forward, and barely made a sound as he jammed the toothbrush in my ass and started digging around, getting my hole ready for his eternal gifts. Shadow man wasted no time and moved his hand back and forth in time to the need building inside his balls. He pulled his prep toy out, made a satisfied, “Hmmm..” then I felt the baby-fist head of his dark dick kiss my ass lips. “SHOW YOUR SUPERIOR BLACK MASTER HOW MUCH YOU WANT THAT DICK. TAKE IT DRY WITH JUST YOUR PUSSY JUICES. SHOW ME HOW MUCH OF A CHEM-FUCKED-UP-SLUT YOU ARE. EAGER PUSSY TRYING TO GET POZZED. NUTTED. BRED DEEP. THAT’S IT - PUSH THAT HOLE BACK, OPEN THAT CUNT - SHIT HURTS GOOD HUH? WAIT UNTIL I AM ALL THE WAY IN. RIDE THAT FUCKING DICK. RAPE YOURSELF ON IT. BOUNCE THAT SHIT BACK. YOU GO FAG BOY - YOU ASKING FOR IT GOOD NOW!” I was hungry for dick, for cum, for more of that pipe - the glass and BBC master versions. I stood part way up, desperately flinging myself back onto his POZ dick. Suddenly the shadow man wrapped his arms around me, encasing my head and body in the plastic hanging from the ceiling as he pressed our bodies together and pushed. The plastic rent from the connectors holding it to the ceiling. Bits of plaster cascaded down the crevices of the protective cover as the shadow man pushed me down onto the floor, his dick stull buried raw and deep in my ass. His hand and body slid over mine, the plastic forming a protective barrier against him except for the hole where his dick spread my ass open wider. “TIME TO POZ THAT ASS UP. ADD YOUR NAME TO MY FILE AT THE HEALTH DEPARTMENT. BREED YOU LIKE THAT PUSSY NEEDS TO BE BRED AND FILLED. CREAM IT WITH THIS SUPERIOR BLACK NUTT TIL YOU GAPING, DRIPPING, AND THOSE PUSSY LIPS JUST SUCKING IT OUT OF ME! YOU READY TO GET THIS TOXIC LOAD? YOU READY FOR THAT BREEDING YOU’VE BEEN CRAVING - NEEDING - BEEN ALL HUNGRY FOR? I DON’T GIVE A SHIT IF YOU ARE OR NOT CAUSE YOU’RE GETTING IT NOW. NO PULLING OUT - NO STOPPING - FUCKING FILLING YOU DEEP!” Time paused - I could hear the drops of sweat from shadow man’s face drip onto the plastic over my head, could feel his body tense, shudder, and release inside me. I welcomed his gift. Time went back to normal speed when the BBC retreated from my hole. I stayed where I was, not wanting to lose the moment, but as with all things time, moments pass and it continues with or without you. 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 darkness and shadows, and then he spoke, “Good slut. You want some more breeder dick? Fucking white bitch twitch.” I WONDER WHAT ELSE HE HAD PLANNED FOR ME? (*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!)

The oak planks beneath my feet felt solid even though the ship rocked to and fro. The Captain had sent for me, so as I made my way from his cabin under the sterncastle to the forecastle and the front of the ship I had to try to maintain my balance while avoiding my fellow crewmates. Well, OK, maybe I was not a part of the crew yet - at least in their eyes. I was too young, too inexperienced, too pampered and formerly rich to be a pirate. Plus I was the Captain’s boy - his ship wife if you will - although I had not been a boy in age for a few years according to my father. Yet having celebrated my 18th birthday just a few weeks prior to the pirates capturing the ship I was on and slaughtering most of the crew, I still often like a child in my new surroundings. Sea spray matted my hair and once I climbed the forecastle steps, and the Captain dismissed his Quartermaster - he roughly guided the wet wisps of matted blond hair off my face. He then pushed me to my knees, unbuttoned his silk britches and had me take his sugar stick in my mouth. He loved being watched and loved even more shooting his salty seed into my mouth while standing on the forecastle, his arms crossed, pretending he was the ultimate master in his foppish silk, colored clothes. The Captain’s clothing choices always made my eyes hurt as he relished the brightest colors and the shiniest silks. Yet underneath his peacock attire, was a tall, well built man with muscles earned by years at sea and a demeanor that was rough, brutal, and used to taking what he wanted, when he wanted it - including my mouth and arse. Once the Captain had filled my mouth, I swallowed, cringing at the bitter taste. I had learned quickly there was punishment to be had if I spit it out, so hiding my grimace, I took it, and then as he stepped back and buttoned up as I left him on the forecastle. These displays always brought unwanted attention to me and while I made my way back to the sterncastle and the cabin the powder monkeys and others whooped and cawed like a cackle of black birds at my passing. In the cabin I reached for the bottle of rum that was dangling by its neck from a rope in the mid-beam timber. I gulped once - the fire burning my throat - then again and swished it around to remove the foul taste. I had tilted the bottle up for a third swig when a voice said, “You know there are better things to be swallowing.” I turned and sighed as I looked upon the Quartermaster. He was so different than any man I had ever known, or any other man on the ship for that matter. In size, he was a good four or five hands taller than the rest and just as thick and wide. His skin was black as London coal and mottled with the scars of battles past - each worn as a badge of honor and medallion of victory. The Quartermaster, or Sir - I don’t know his true name as when asked he just said Sir - was the real power on the ship. The Captain pranced around and hollered and demanded and the crew would say, “Aye Capt’n”, and then would look to the Quartermaster for the simple nod or shake of his head that would either affirm or change the orders. There were several dark men of the islands on the ship’s crew and when I first expressed my surprise that he held the rank and position he did, Sir just chuckled and said, “It is not unknown for someone like me to serve the black flag. We all wish the same thing do we not?” I had seen my share of the atrocities done to men like him in my few short years and was honestly grateful to the Father Above that Sir had found his place in this world. “I saw you coming back from the bow and your morning feeding,” Sir chuckled. I scowled at his humor, wiped the last swig of rum from my lips, and knew better than to state what I was really thinking. He continued, “I figured you would need something warm, sweet, and filling to settle your stomach, so I held my morning water and instead of sloshing down the quarter gallery figured I would let it slosh around in your mouth.” Sir quickly loosened his canvas britches and let them drop to the floor as he steadied himself with his left hand against the timber frame. The ship rocked and I stumbled as I made my way over to him, but got on my knees and held firm against his thighs as the first hot droplets of nectar kissed my lips. I quickly open my mouth and began to gulp the hot waters he fed me. His dick head was large, dark, and ripe like the giant plums I used to snitch from our neighbor’s garden when I was a child. First thing in the morning he tasted just as wonderful. Not sweet - not bitter - but like wild venison dipped in fig sauce coated with the frothy green foam that seeped from it’s eye like from the churning of small waves against the hull. Sir was my Neptune - my king of the sea. I think Sir had been holding his water all night as he really filled me up. Once I was sure he was done, I stood up, licked my lips, and gave him a smile, as I knew what would come next. I made my way to the Captain’s desk and shoved a pile of maps and papers to the side. Sir walked up behind me and slid his calloused hands under my canvas shirt, up my sides, and then grabbed my chest hard. “TELL ME YOU WANT MY PEGO. TELL ME YOU WANT ME TO FUCK YOU. TELL ME YOU WANT ME TO CUM IN YOUR ARSE, TELL ME HOW MUCH YOU WANT MY POX!” Sir demanded. I had never heard such words and talk until I was taken by the pirates and even then I had to figure out what some things meant like ‘pego’, which was his tackle or manhood. Oh I had heard my father and others refer to their manhood but never imagined I would welcome another man bloody buggering me with his like I did Sir or that I would enjoy risking my eternal life as a bloody Sodomite. While I enjoyed taking him, feeling him push in, pull out, and then grant me his seed, I was also grateful. He saved me - quite literally on that first day. As Sir took me from behind, rough and deep, those memories came back. Our attempt to evade the dark ship that stalked over the horizon; the fighting and screams and blood; the death and pillaging. A group of the pirate crew had me cornered in my cabin and were arguing over whether to gut me, ransom me, or use me like a wench - or all three - when the Quartermaster showed up. He looked me up and down, barely acknowledging my nakedness, then barked to his crew that I was to be protected and kept safe as the Captain was in need of a cabin boy to replace the last one who had died of fever, so I would have to do. As one of the three top men on the ship, by rights, Sir could use me just as the Captain and the Bos’n did. The Captain and Bos’n wasted no time and spent my first night as pirate booty rutting on me like brutal wild animals. The Bos’n especially liked rutting me like a wild boar. He was a filthy beast and just as hairy and smelly as any boar I had seen but his tusk - well I have to admit his big tusk felt awful good banging my arse open and I knew I pleased him as he grunted loudly whenever he wet my insides. Yet, while I enjoyed his man tar coating my insides, it was the tar that often coated his hands that was the worst. The filthy man never washed and while my skin and flesh toughened up from the beatings his tar-covered hands and sticks gave me, the taste of his fingers being jammed in my mouth to suck on as he rutted always left my insides heaving like the worst storm. Tar belongs on the timbers and oaks, not in my mouth! “MY POX IS DRIPPING FROM YOUR CUNNY - MAKING IT ALL HARD FOR YOU! TELL ME YOU WANT ME IN YOUR CUNNY! TELL ME YOU WANT MY POX!” Sir said, breaking my memories and focusing me back on the moment. The heat and pain he caused when he entered me were either the coal fires of Hell burning my soul or the Fire Sword of the Angel Gabriel protecting me. His manhood was massive, but the burning it caused was nothing compared to the wonder he stirred and the feelings of pleasure he gave me when he let me serve him like this. From the moment he saved me, Sir showed me kindness and mercies. Small things really I guess, but in this world, they were huge. A kind word, an extra crust of bread, a firm but gentle touch on the shoulder, a new canvas shirt when the bloodied, torn, and ruined shirt I had when captured became nothing more than nesting fodder for the ship’s mice and rats. Between satisfying the desires of the Captain, the Bos’n, and trying to learn my duties so I didn’t get slapped, kicked, or beat for disobedience, I had little time to wonder about the quiet, scary looking Quartermaster. That is until one morning a few weeks in after the Captain had buggered me and left me in his cabin, naked, afraid, and confused. Sir had come in to look at the charts but paused when he saw me on the floor huddled against the desk. I stood up, afraid I would get beat if I did not offer, so I bent over the desk and waited. Sir’s breathing got labored; the oak creaked with each step as he stepped closer. Gently he ran a finger down the ridges on my back left by the Bos’n. I was shaking and expected him to just take me. The air crackled like a storm was approaching and the hairs on my arms raised, my flesh dimpled; yet Sir held back and just said, “I’ll come back shortly. Take what time you need. I believe the Captain will be wanting his spyglass.” That evening, when taking the Captain’s dinner tray back to the galley to the cook, I paused just long enough to accept an apple from a small linen bag he had sitting on the counter. His toothless grin when he handed it to me was all the explanation he could give having no tongue with which to speak. I nodded and smiled in appreciation and tucked it under my shirt. The Captain was fast asleep by now and the watch was late, so I stayed in the shadows to avoid the few men that were up as I made my way to the Quartermaster's cabin. I tapped the stout wooden door with my finger, not wanting to make noise knowing how it could carry in the ship. I tapped again, the door latch creaked, the door cracked open, and the Quartermaster held out the metal lamp to see who had need of him. The lamp swayed back and forth as its faint light, cast by the stub of a single candle, let him see enough to know it was I. He opened the door, I stepped in, the door closed, latched, and I shivered with a chill like from a cold winter’s morning. “Are you OK? Is the Captain OK? What’s happened?” The Quartermaster said with a tinge of anxiousness in his voice. “Quart...Quartermaster, Sir, I….” He gently laid his hand on my quaking shoulder, “Just Sir. Just call me Sir. It’s OK boy, begin again.” I really didn’t know what to say so I just reached into my shirt, pulled out the small apple and held it up for him to see. A gift. A token. A thanks. Sir smiled, stepped to the back of his cabin, hung his lamp on the small hook by his bunk, and sat on the edge. It was then I realized he was completely naked. The small flames and the light of the moon reflected off the calm seas cast dancing shadows over his night skin and I was mesmerized. He casually shifted his long, thick manhood off his left thigh and patted his bunk, “Come. Sit with me and share this bounty. Did Cook give this to you? You did not steal it did you? You must know that taking things - stealing - is a severe punishment.” I thought that was a funny sort of thing for a pirate to say, but I had also seen they had some weird rules - known and unknown - so I held my tongue and just nodded. Sir pulled a knife that was jammed into the side timbers out, held up the apple, and cut a thick slice off and handed it to me. The juice dripped across his thigh and onto my hand and I laughed in delight as I figured the apple would have been dry and nothing more than a husk. I eagerly chewed it and swallowed and Sir did the same. He shared another piece with me, then a couple more. With the apple’s flesh consumed and nothing left but the seeds and toughest bit of the core, Sir jammed the knife back into the timber, looked at me, then reached out and with a tenderness I had not known from even my own father, gently wiped the smalls bits and juice from the corners of my mouth and lip. His face was mostly shadows as he licked his fingers clean. I don’t know what possessed me, but I reached out and firmly grasped his stiff manhood and gasped in wonder at its size and warmth and his aching need. He squeezed my wrist painfully, “DON’T,” he hissed. With all my strength I slid my hand up, then down, feeling the slickness of his manhood, the roughness of the skin rash and chancres, the wetness of the pustules as they seeped open onto my hand. Was that why he had never wanted me? I let him shift my hand away from his body and smiled as I held my coated hand to my face and inhaled. The smell clung to my nostrils, filled my throat, made my chest clench, and only increased my hunger. I stood up and Sir watched me in confusion as I pulled my canvas shirt and britches off. My eyes locked with his as I kneeled before him, grasped his pox timber with both hands, and guided it to my mouth. BY THE SAINTS HE TASTED WONDERFUL! Sir’s manhood pulsed and twitched with every flick of my tongue, depositing a stew of sweat, pox juice, man dripping, and more. I moaned as I suckled on the tip, drinking him up, pleasuring him with a small kindness. Sir’s head was back, his mouth open, his hand’s gripping the side of the bunk as I stroked his shaft, mouthed the tip, and cupped his balls. I had to feel him inside me, but I knew he was too big. I would not be able to take him like I did the Captain and Bos’n. I stopped my work, stood up, climbed onto the bunk and wedged myself between the bulkhead wall and Sir’s back. He twisted, looked at me, then turned his body and lay on the bunk beside me - his face to mine - his shaft pressing in need against my body. Sir’s face was all dark shadows now, so I gently ran the fingers of my left hand over his head, down his jaw line, across the crooked bridge of his nose, to his mouth. When I withdrew my fingers from his lips he slid his right arm over my back, pulled me tightly towards him and began kissing me with burning intensity. The Captain and Bos’n had never kissed me. No man had. They had only used my mouth in other ways. This - this was so different, so… Back in the present, Sir had withdrawn his shaft from my backside and was using the long nails on his right hand to scratch and claw at me like a mountain lion gutting a lamb, “YOU WANT ME TO STOP?” Sir asked, knowing full well I would never ask that. “I WANT TO SEE THAT CUNNY SWOLLEN - RED - OVERFLOWING WITH MY POX. I WANT THAT CUNNY RIPE FOR MY SEED - SWELLING AS I FILL YOU UP!” Sir slammed back into my now even bloodier arse. That first night, after he had kissed me and explored every inch of my body with his hands, our sweaty bodies entangled, was the first time I had felt safe. Nothing else mattered. All the pain, fear, unknown of the past weeks was swept away with the tides. I had an anchor now. An anchor that would hold me steady through whatever storm may blow. “Please, please go inside me,” I asked Sir. He stroked the side of my head, “You don’t know what you are asking. I can’t. I musn’t.” I guided his hand from my head down between my legs so he could feel how wet and moist my body was. I let go, flipped over so my back was now to him, and lifted my right leg up and back exposing my hole. Sir sucked in a lung full of breath like the hiss of an adder snake about to strike. I nestled my head in the crook of his left arm, scooted my body back a little so I was firmly pressed against him. His choice now was to either enter me or let me push him off the bunk. OK, well maybe I could not have pushed him off because he is a lot bigger than me, but still, in that moment, I didn’t know how else to ask him to give me what I needed. “FUCK ME SIR!” I begged as I pushed my ass back onto his swollen rod, using the rocking motion of the ship to harpoon me like a fish. Sir obliged, fucking me with a roughness I would come to love and need. While over the course of the past months he had fucked me in just about every place imaginable on the ship, his favorite was still having me bent over the Captain’s desk. The stains of red, pox, and arse left on the oak floors was one more reminder for the Captain of who was really in charge. I arched my back as Sir grabbed my right leg and hefted it higher. He began stabbing at my puckered flesh with his fingers; his nails scraping my skin away like the barnacles that clung to the ship’s hull. This was a pain I wanted. This was a pain I had to have. His fingers found their mark and my body stiffened and I cried out. Sir cupped his left hand over my mouth to silence me and while the beating of my heart pounded in my ears as the waves pounded the planks of the bulkhead, Sir continued to create the wetness he needed. I could tell from the tenseness of his body he was going to take me. All doubt was erased when, with two fingers firmly buried in me like gill hooks and he whispered, “TELL ME YOU WANT THIS - TELL ME YOU WANT MY POX. I HAVE TRIED TO BE KIND AND GENTLE WITH YOU. WHY OR WHY ARE YOU MAKING ME DO THIS? WHY ARE YOU MAKING ME DESIRE THIS?” I moaned in pleasure as Sir’s fingers dug at the nub in my arse, making it swell and oil up. I could feel his fingers getting slicker. “I WANT IT,” I said with all the effort I could muster. “TAKE ME MY LORD. I AM YOUR HUMBLE SERVANT SIR. AT YOUR GRACE AND MERCY MY MASTER GIVE ME YOUR SEED.” I yelped as Sir clamped his hand back over my mouth and forced his pox meat into my arse. The slickness let him slide in a bit, but then he caught up like a wayward ship running a-shoal. Before my body and mind could process the intense burning and pain he had inflicted, in one motion he pulled me closer, rolled his body onto mine, pressed my head firmly into the molded straw of the bunk’s padding and boarded me as he buried himself deep inside me. Lighting flashed bright and white behind my closed eyes as Sir pushed into me deeper and deeper. My body instinctively tensed and tried to push out the invader to no avail. All at once my resistance gave way and the deluge of his pox manhood began. Wave after wave of pox seed crashed and churned inside me. Sir pumped and pumped to expel it all and I took it. At the time it felt like he had spent an entire night’s watch filling me up, but I know that cannot be. “TAKE MY POX - THAT’S IT - OPEN THAT CUNNY UP - TAKE IT ALL - HARLOT CUNNY FOR ME!” Sir exclaimed as he filled me with his morning blessing. Far too soon his shrinking manhood slid from inside me. I quickly knelt and lapped up the sticky, pox remnants left on his mast and once I was done, I stood up, hefted my canvas britches up, looked at Sir, and knowingly asked, “SEE YOU TONIGHT?” (*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: Want Some MORE chocolate sprinkles? – Pay-to-Play for 25 inches of Pain: “I WANT TO SEE HOW HUNGRY THAT ASS IS - YOU EVER TAKEN 12 INCHES? 13? IT’S ONLY A BIT BIGGER. WELL A BIT LONGER ANYWAYS. THICK AS MY WRIST THOUGH. I BET YOU CAN. NO CHOICE REALLY - MORE LIKE YOU WILL TAKE IT. HEY BOY, CRUSH UP SOME MORE OF THAT SHIT, LET’S PACK THAT CHUTE, THEN GO IN AND TELL THE GUYS HE’S READY.” Still smacking his ass pussy flavored cigar the ice cream man stood up, grabbed my chains, hooked me back to the ceiling, then reached into a box and pulled out a rag and stuffed it in my mouth. He grinned then said, “I THINK YOU MAY SCREAM ON THESE ONES, BUT THAT’S COOL - TRY - TOLD THEM THIS WAS A NO LIMITS FUCK. YOU WANT SOME MORE SPRINKLES?” Hot BBC nutt continued to run down my leg - the special family mix from both the ice cream man and his nephew. I groaned as the ice cream man jammed his fingers in my ass, used his nails to scratch at my hole, and then withdrew them before stuffing shards of Tina inside me. I was spinning pretty good when the back door opened up and the nephew stepped in followed by two huge guys who seemed like they could barely fit in the truck. The ice cream man stood up, licked the slime and crystal crust off his fingers, puffed on his cigar, then grabbed my chin with his right hand and said, “Tonight’s dinner special is Kobe Beef Steak - extra rare - the ‘all you can eat’ buffet version.” He then held up my black credit card and turned it side to side, “This is a special, off-menu delivery so will cost extra. These two bust heads for me for a living, and a few arms, legs, and skulls as needed. Tonight you get the privilege of funding some pay-to-play for my guys here who will be bringing 25 inches of pain. That’s right. 13 and long and 12 and wide - so which steak you trying to choke down first? Hell don’t really matter. Not your choice.” I shivered as a Tina rush coursed through me and my hormones blazed like a solar flare anticipating what was to come. The ice cream man set some baggies of Tina on the counter, grabbed his box of stash, looked at the two guys and gave his final instructions, “You got an hour to rape that ass, make that pussy gape and flap and swell. He’s a dick hungry fag slut, so no limits, and that hole is already primed - both with some nicca nutt and some of my good stash. You two think you can handle that? Aiight. We’ll be back in 60 and who knows - maybe he’ll add a tip!” It took a little swearing, adjusting, and ultimately they had to step out the back before the ice cream man and his nephew could leave. When the two drug enforcers stepped back in, the ice cream truck seemed to tilt, and the shadows darkened as they stood between me and the small light bulb on the ceiling that cast a pale glow. The rag in my mouth prevented me from talking, but I did my best mumble and rattled the chains on my arms to get their attention. They booth looked at me like I was an annoying pest. One of them sat down on the ice cream man’s milk crate and started to take off his boots. “What the fuck you doing?” the other one asked as he reached into the cooler, pulled out a popsicle and peeled the sticky paper back to expose a bright, orange frozen treat. “Getting comfortable - fuck - what you think? And what the fuck you doing?” The other guy just shrugged as he bit off a chunk of the Popsicle and chewed it, which sent a shiver up my spine. How can folks bite into something cold like that? They continued chatting back and forth and I was getting hornier and hornier so I rattled the chains again and spun back and forth a little. My ass needed some attention and now! The guy who sat down was now naked except for his boots that he had put back on. He grunted then growled as he stood back up and came over to me and slapped my face, “What the fuck? Sluts should be seen and not heard, now let me see that ass.” He stepped around and behind me then WHACK! Gave my ass a good smack. My body tensed, the chains shook, I mumbled into the mouth rag. WHACK! “HA - damn! Those white cheeks turn bright red just like that,” He said. WHACK! WHACK! WHACK! WHACK! The other came over, “I say we bruise the fag up a bit first. Boss said no limits, but I gotta nutt soon as my balls are bursting and should be good for a couple. What do you think? In answer his friend continued to spank my cheeks - WHACK! WHACK! WHACK! WHACK! The guy in front just laughed, set the now remnants of the Popsicle and stick between his teeth and nursed it like a pacifier as he reached down, unbuttoned his pants and dropped them around his ankles. The angle prevented me from seeing his dick, but I could smell it and that man funk would have made my dick spring right up if it had not been for all the Tina now coursing through me. He stepped closer, smiled, pulled the popsicle stick out of his mouth and with the last bits of orange treat left started to melt it across my nipples in little swirls. WHACK! WHACK! WHACK! WHACK! The ass beating continued as my nipples started to get chewed and worked. I could feel his dick now. The head was tapping at my belly button as he jacked his shaft while he hummed and chewed first one nipple then the other. He paused and bit hard and I yelped and cried out into the rag. WHACK! WHACK! WHACK! WHACK! He bit down again and started to grind my nipple like a rock of Tina caught between a spoon and the counter. I was whimpering as he opened his mouth wider, taking in more of my flesh, yet always finding his way back to my nipple core. WHACK! WHACK! WHACK! WHACK! WHACK! WHACK! WHACK! WHACK! “There we go - fuck yeah!” the guy behind me said. “Got some nice shades of deep red showing and my rings are leaving hot little purple gouges. Time to bruise that pussy up.” The massive chocolate stick punctured my ass ring and my body went rigid, the chains clanged and banged, my eyes watered up and the bile caught in my throat as the dewy rag would not let me force it out. The guy who had now chewed my nipples raw looked up, paused, laughed, “Yeah, shit stings don’t it? Most pussy tries to tap out as soon as he starts pushing it in, but that’s not an option for you. Here, let me coat them nostrils for you. Make you relax them ass lips so my man can get his thrust on.” The BBC behind me gripped my hips hard, dug his nails into my skin, and pushed his dick deeper into my slop filled hole, “FEEL THAT CUNT GET RIPPED AND SPLIT! WRECKIN IT OPEN ‘N DIGGIN THAT TUNNEL OUT!” The chains were rattling hard now as he started to slam fuck me, “THAT PUSSY HAVING A FIT! CONVULSING ON MY DICK - GO ON - TRY TO CLAMP THAT HOLE SHUT, LET ME BREAK IT OPEN. FUCK THAT’S NASTY - RIGHT LIKE THAT - SEE YOU TRYING TO ARCH THAT BACK, LET ME DIG THEM WALLS - OH YEAH!” My nipples were given a short reprieve as the man in front paused his chewing and said, “Yo, let’s put some more gas in that tank.” The BBC in my ass slid out, I gasped into the rag in my mouth and fidgeted wanting him to put it back in. WHACK! WHACK! WHACK! WHACK! I whimpered, my spanker laughed, I then watched his buddy coat up the Popsicle stick with a load of white powder before walking behind me. “OK,” he said, “Pull his cheeks apart a bit bro, let me eye that hole. JESUS NICCA! You shredding it! Let’s see if this sets that fag’s ass on fire.” I cried out more - the noise lost in the rag as he shaved the Popsicle stick into my ass and started digging around with it, coating my hole with Tina while at the same time trying to damage my gut lining. When he was done, and his buddy slammed back in and started fucking fast and furious, the pain was sharp, pointed, intense, and burning. Back in the front, the BBC who had tortured my nipples stood back and stroked his dick. My eyes grew wide at how long and thick it was. “Time for a little DP action bro,” he said as he put his body right in front of mine, wiggled his right hand between my thighs, then placed his dick head just under my balls and when his buddy slammed into me, he shoved his dick forward. I now had a monster BBC fucking my ass and another sliding back and forth right under my balls/between my upper thighs pushing the opposite way. He laughed, “BRO, YOU SHOULD SEE HIS FACE. DON’T THINK THIS BITCH HAS EVER HAD HIS GOUCH FUCKED BEFORE. DIDN’T KNOW YOU HAD TWO PUSSIES DID YOU? YOUR GOUCH IS ALL WARM AND SLICK FROM THAT NUTT JUICE DRIPPING OUT YOUR ASS - SLICKING MY DICK UP JUST RIGHT - GETTING ME ALL READY TO BUST A LOAD INSIDE.” My balls were being crushed now by his black wood as he banged me from the front while his buddy continued to stretch my ass. “I’M GONNA FLOOD THIS HOLE, BANGIN THIS BACK, MURDERING THIS PUSSY GOOD,” the BBC fucking me announced, “HELP ME HOLD THE BITCH STILL MAN - LET ME PISTOL WHIP THAT ASS - TAKE THIS BAZOOKA DICK - TAKE THIS A.K.-FUCKIN-47. YOU READY FOR SOME BULLETS? READY TO GET SHOT UP? DRIVE BY SNIPER DICK COMING - GOING TO BLOW YOU THE FUCK UP! BLOW YOU THE FUCK ----AHHH YEAH - BLOWING YOU UP…..” Both dicks picked up the pace as my ass was filled with more chocolate syrup. Hersheys had nothing on me! No sooner had he removed his demon dick from my ass, than his buddy pulled his now wet and slippery dick out from under my balls, reached up, and unhooked the chains. Our three bodies all became somewhat entangled, “Yo man, bend the bitch over first so he can lick my dick clean and taste that strawberry filling I made in that pussy.” He proudly pointed at his dick, “Look at them chunks man! That was some good thick nutt and damn - look there - BIG RED IN THE HOUSE MADE THAT PUSSY SHRED!” The rag was pulled from my mouth and before I could say a word he pushed my head down, “OPEN THAT SLUT MOUTH AND TASTE YOUR PERIOD, SLURP THAT GOOD NICCA NUTT UP WHILE MY BRO STUFFS YOU WITH HIS OWN PERSONAL TAMPON STICK!” I opened my mouth and took as much of his shaft in as I could, but his head was big and dick was thick and before I had time to really loosen my jaws and give his dick its due I tried to rear back. “TIME TO TURN YOU OUT YOU DICK HUNGRY PERV SLUT! FUCKING TEASING ME WITH THAT GOUCH, NOW IT’S MY TURN TO IMPALE YOU WITH SOME - WHAT’D THE BOSS CALL IT? OH YEAH - KOBE BEEF. YOU LIKE THIS BEEF? BET YOU DIDN’T KNOW THIS IS HOW COWS GET THEIR MILK - NICCA BULL DICK MILK. LET ME HEAR YOU GAG ON HIS SHIT AND WORK THAT HOLE IF YOU WANT THIS MILK - WORK IT - AW FUCK. TIME TO RAPE THAT PUSSY DEEP. HERE YOU GO - FILLING THAT ASS - TAKE THIS BEEF STICK! TAKE THIS BLACK BEEF! YOU JUST A COW FOR THIS BULL DICK - PINK COW PUSSY FOR THIS BLACK BULL - GOOD COW READY. BREED AND SEED INSEMINATION COMING! BULL SPERM COMING SLUT - BULL NUTT DRIPPING - YOU READY TO GET IT? FUCK YEAH FAG BITCH TAKE MY NUTT! MILK THIS DICK! EAT IT UP! SWALLOW THESE BULL BABIES UP THAT PUSSY HOLE! HELL YEAH BLOWING MY LOAD BALLS DEEP - OPENED YOU RIGHT UP - FUCKING NASTY CUM WHORE!” My body was shaking uncontrollably. I started to wonder, was I overdosing on Tina or something? I was standing in the middle of the ice cream truck, legs apart, my hole dripping PING PING PING nutt onto the metal floor. The ice cream man’s two BBC drug enforcers were both lined up at the counter, snorting Tina, and when the chains on my collar and between my wrists started rattling louder they looked at me and laughed. The guy who had fucked me first – the one with the thick 12-incher, said, “Fuck, pussy’s in shock, I got just the fix for that.” He roughly pushed me down on the cardboard covered section of the floor, pushed my cuffed and chained hands forward and grunted as he rammed back in me, “Let’s pack this fudge stick up in that ass. MAKE YOU FEEL THIS ALMOND JOY.” His co-conspirator kicked the milk crate over, sat down, lit a cigarette, adjusted his pants that were still down around his ankles, then held his hand down in front of my face, “Spit on my hand.” I tried and half the spit just ran down my chin as I was body pressed to the floor being rape fucked and with my cuffed arms forced forward could not really make the shot. He just laughed, used his fingers to wipe my chin, then took his slick hand and started stroking his 13-inch dick back to life. “Yo - you about done man?” Mr. 13-inch asked, “I’m ready to tear it up again. Go on my man, let me see you stretch that pussy out. Bang it harder! NAIL THAT PUSSY TO THE FLOOR! HAMMER IT HOME - HAMMER IT - THERE YOU GO NICCA - THERE YOU GO! FUCKIN-A BRO - FUCKIN-A. LEAN INTO THAT SHIT, LEAN INTO IT. STRETCH IT OUT FOR ME, YEAH THAT PUSSY AIN’T SNAPPING BACK ANYTIME SOON. COME ON BRO, NUTT IT UP. NUTT IT UP. HE LIKES THAT ALMOND JOY WITH NUTTS - YEAH HE DOES - BITCH PUSSY FOR NUTT - DIG UP IN THERE! DIG IT OUT! DIG IT! FUCK YEAH BRO!” It was like being at a one-on-one pick up game where I was totally outmatched, the other guy never let control of the ball go, and he had his own cheerleading team to encourage the slaughter. With a final thrust the 12-incher swelled and heaved and poured his load deep. When he withdrew hardly anything ran out as my guts went back into their normal twist and turn shape and held his sticky jizz in. No sooner had he stood up off me and stepped back towards the front of the ice cream truck, then Mr. 13-inch was up off the milk crate, between my legs, and dropping his full weight down onto me. I cried out as his dick felt like it was deep enough to puncture a lung. He adjusted himself, grabbed the back of the leather collar with his left hand, clamped his right hand over my mouth/face, and proceeded to pound the hell out of me. “THIS IS HOW WE DO THOSE HOME INVASIONS,” he explained, letting me in on some of their criminal secrets, or maybe just his twisted fantasy, “WE ROUGH UP THE BITCH BOY PUSSY WHEN WE FOLLOW ONE OF THEM HOME - FIRST SO THEY LEARN ENOUGH TO OBEY. THEN WHEN I’M SURE THE FIGHT’S GONE OUT OF THEM, I SET MY PIECE ON THE NIGHTSTAND SO THEY CAN SEE HOW THINGS COULD GO WHILE MY BRO HERE CHOKES THEM OUT.” He yanks the collar, squeezes his hands tighter, “THOSE PUSSIES TOTALLY RELAX LIKE THAT - ASSES TOO - I CAN EVEN DRY FUCK’EM THAT WAY. COURSE THE HOLE’S NEVER THE SAME AFTER THAT, BUT LIKE I GIVE A SHIT. I GOT WHAT I NEEDED. IF THEY HAPPEN TO START COMING TO BEFORE I FINISH - WELL A QUICK SQUEEZE AND LIGHTS OUT AGAIN BABY OR IF WE KNOW WE GOT TIME WE ALWAYS HAVE A NEEDLE ON HAND WITH A SPECIAL COCKTAIL. WE TURN THE SLUTS OUT - FIND NEW HOLES TO BREAK OPEN - GO DEEPER THAN ANYONE HAS GONE BEFORE - BREED THEM WITH SO MUCH NICCA NUTT I BE THE DADDY AND GRANDADDY.” This was some fucked up shit, but the 12-inch guy was loving it as he now sat on the milk crate, jacking his dick and moaning and groaning and saying, “YES!” like a hiss over and over listening to his buddy twist my tail while he spun a tale. “ONCE IN A BLUE MOON - AND FUCK WE AIN’T FOUND THIS IN FUCKING EVER - WE COME ACROSS A BITCH HOLE THAT PUTS UP A GOOD FIGHT, WANTS IT HARDER, DEEPER, ROUGHER, AND IS WILLING TO LET US TAKE WHAT WE NEED. WHEN WE NEED IT. HOW WE WANT IT. I THINK YOU ARE ONE OF THOSE; YES I DO YOU FUCKING FAG PUSSY. YOU KNOW HOW I KNOW? THE HARDER I SQUEEZE YOU MOAN. YOU LIKE THAT SHIT. THE DEEPER MY DICK GOES YOU BUCK YOUR HIPS UP AND BACK. YOU LIKE IT. I CAN TELL YOU NEED THIS. YOU WANT US TO BREAK INTO YOUR HOUSE? BRING A CREW OF HOMIES TO ROUGH YOU UP - FUCK YOU DOWN - SLUT YOU OUT? YEAH YOU DO. COME ON, I NEED TO SHOOT BUT NOT LIKE THIS. NO - I GOT SOMETHING SPECIAL PLANNED BITCH.” Mr. 13-inch climbed off me, stood up, and his buddy reached down and helped me get first onto my knees then to stand up as well. Silent instructions passed between them and while Mr. 13-inch fought with the napkin dispenser and finally pulled the top off and grabbed a handful before he started wiping and dabbing at my puffy hole, the 12-inch dick pointed the way to nirvana - more lines of Tina ready for me to snort. I did a couple, and then did a couple more per their orders. Next I was placed between the two of them facing the 12-inch dicked top as he leaned against one of the coolers. His buddy got behind me, mumbled, stepped to the side, grabbed the milk crate and took some of the cardboard off the floor and flopped it across the top of the crates going lengthwise in the ice cream truck. “Get on your hands and knees on there,” one of them said. I was flying pretty well and between needing more dick and Tina, was surprised I was able to obey. Well I tried. I had to hunch up on the milk crate like some show dog and would have lost my balance completely when Mr. 13-inch got behind me and started spanking my ass if his buddy had not found a way to hold me steady. With my neck firmly set between his legs, the 12-inch dude straddled me and held me in place with some porno wrestling headlock move. I could smell his balls, ass, and had a great view of the tops of the back of his boots. My shoulders were pressed against the front of his thighs and with my hands gripping the outer edge of the crate I actually felt pretty stable. His buddy now slapped my lower back with his hard, 13-inch dick and said, “TIME TO SEE HOW FAR THAT PUSSY ASS WILL STRETCH.” “GOOD KITTY - ARCH THAT BACK - THAT’S RIGHT PUSSY - YOU FEELING THAT SHIT NOW AIN’T YOU?” he said as he squirreled his 13-inches back into my guts asking a question that he clearly knew the answer to. The BBC holding me in the headlock now started slapping his semi-hard dick against the bottom of my neck while his buddy tried to find new angles and depths with which to gut me open. I tried to say something once and got my neck squeezed, so I focused then on just trying to relax and enjoy the ride. Easier said than done. There was a loud banging at the door and a muffled voice - the ice cream man’s nephew - saying, “5 minutes then you’re needed back inside.” The hound was off to the hunt now. “FUCK YEAH MAKING THAT BITCH PUSSY HURT. FUCKING YOU OUT - STRETCHING THAT FAG HOLE WIDE OPEN SO YOU CAN TAKE ALL MY BABIES. YOU TRYING TO BE THAT ON CALL DICK SLUT? THAT WHITE WHORE WE CAN USE, BRUISE, ABUSE, AND NUTT ALL IN ANYTIME WE WANT? LET US FIND NEW WAYS TO FILL YOU WITH DADDY CREAM? TAKE THIS LONG FUCKING DICK - TAKE IT! TAKE THIS LONG FUCKING DICK! ARCH THAT BACK, ARCH IT IF YOU WANT THIS LOAD - ARCH IT SO I CAN BREAK THEM GUTS OPEN AND MARK YOU AS TRUE BBC BITCH SLUT - TRUE BBC HUNGRY WHORE - FUCK YEAH TAKE THIS LOAD!” 30-seconds later I was standing up, bent over, licking the man drippings off his brutal, black, beast. His 12-inch buddy had slammed right back inside me and was fucking like a jack rabbit to bust another nutt before our time was up. With his dick clean, Mr. 13-inch slid a napkin across the cooler, grabbed a Sharpie marker off the shelf by the whiteboard, tapped me on the head and said, “Write down your number and address and not a fucking word to the boss - you understand? My man and I ain’t done with you yet so you can expect maybe a little breaking and entering, home invasion, beat down and rape down, homie gang bang like you was Grand Central Station letting all them big black trains run through your house. You understand?” The latch on the ice cream truck door turned, the napkin was quickly stuffed in a pocket, the ice cream man stepped up as his nephew stayed on the street and held the door open just a crack. “Time’s up boys. Get back inside. There’s shit to slang and work to be done.” Soon I was alone with him and the ice cream man’s hard dick was back inside my wrecked hole. “How was tonight’s dinner service so far? Did you enjoy the first course?” he asked. What the fuck was he talking about? Before I could ask he said, “Why let good, knocked up pussy go to waste?” (*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 - Bend Over for Daddy I could only stare in wonder as the Uber driver fished a mammoth dick out his shorts. His cock was even longer and thicker than the one that had just bred me. In a flash I had pulled-off my pants and was grunting face down in the back seat as he mounted me and raw fucked my ass, using the fresh cum that had just filled my guts as lube. “Give me that hole,” the driver demanded as he pushed deeper, “You like black dick? Huh? Maybe I should drive you around and find some street dudes to breed you. How much you pay me for that? You’d like that? Getting creamed by anonymous dick? Anonymous black dick? Hell yes you do! Cummy ass right here - cummy hole needing some more nutt. Ready for another breeding?” I could only grunt in affirmation and pleasure as he spurted his load and doubled my total for the morning. There’s just something fucking hot and amazing about a man who does not even ask about using a condom, but who just whips out his raw dick expecting a bottom will take it then, there, and anyway he wants. I was definitely game for that. The Uber driver grabbed some paper towels from underneath the front seat, wiped up a few streaks, leaned back, powered the window down a little and lit up a cigarette to enjoy that post-orgasm chill. I left my pants off, but put them under me so I would not spot the leather seats, and sat there gently playing with his semi-hard dick while he chilled and smoked. His dick would twitch, drool, get a little hard, then soften again as I touched and stroked it. I was eager for more and focused on working him back up when there was a sudden rapping on the window and I about pissed myself and said, “SHIT!” The Uber driver eased the window down a crack more and saw the guy from the house that had fucked me. His head turned at an angle so he could see in, “Yo slim, saw you were still here and lit up. Thought I might ask to take another crack at that as I got some more daddy juice to spill. You up for killing a few?” He then pressed his face close to the window so all I could really see was his mouth as he said more quietly, “Chill like a couple of real nasty Gs? Do that homie down low thing?” The Uber driver laughed, “Yeah man, sure,” then turned to me and said, “Scoot over.” He then reached into my pants, pulled out my phone, handed it out through the window to the daddy on the sidewalk, “Just so you don’t any ideas. I’m your ride remember.” The daddy stood by the car as we both got dressed, then climbed out of the backseat. Positioned between the two of them as we walked up the broken walkway, I asked “Don’t I get a say in this?” They both looked at each other, at me, and busted out laughing like I had just said the funniest joke ever. When we got inside the Uber driver asked where the bathroom was so he could piss. As his stream echoed off the porcelain, I asked our daddy host, “Do you guys know each other or what? I mean you said hi to him when he dropped me off and now...like how do you know he’s cool with...you know.” Daddy laughed as he paused, stripped, grabbed a crumpled box of cigarettes and tapped out a fresh one, lit up, inhaled and replied “Naw, but we from the same hood. Seen him around here and there and when I looked out and saw his car still parked, well - I knew he was a brotha that’s into sloppy seconds and freak shit and up for some more creep-and-roll. Now get the fuck out of them clothes and BEND OVER FOR DADDY!” I was getting naked when the Uber driver came out, “Hey slim,” the daddy host said as he waved the driver out of the room and into the kitchen. I could hear them speaking in hushed tones and was tempted to edge closer to the door to try to hear, but then they came back in. The Uber driver unzipped his pants, sat on the edge of the couch, lit up a cigarette and said, “Get that mouth down here. I need some sloppy head.” I eagerly bent forward, resting my hands on his firm thighs as I started to slurp on his hefty shaft. The daddy had shucked his pants back off, walked around us, dug around in the pile of filthy clothes on the couch and hauled out a couple more black, dirty caked socks and chuckled as he held them up to the light to inspect them. He then reached down onto the floor and grabbed the t-shirt I used earlier to wipe myself off, which he tossed to the Uber driver. The driver held the shirt up to his face, inhaled, “Oh yeah, smells like used pussy. I dropped a hefty nutt in there, so you don’t need no lotion man.” The daddy dropped the bottle of lotion back onto the floor that he had been preparing to slather me up with and with my throat busy, the daddy grabbed my hips and slammed into my open hole. I lifted off the driver’s dick, “Fuck me with that raw dick!” I pleaded, “I want all the dick you can give me.” In reply the Uber driver said, “SHUT THE FUCK UP AND SUCK THAT DICK!” while the daddy banged me, priming my engine with that BBC oil. The daddy handed the Uber driver the filth-matted socks and he immediately knew what to do. First he reached around and set his cigarette on an ashtray amidst the trash on the couch, then he held the back of my head firm with his left hand and with his right, wadded them up under and over my nose so the only way I could breath was to inhale the sharp, ripe, rank. I started gagging, sputtering through the spit onto his dick, which made him just press the socks tighter, and which made the daddy slam my hole harder. The Uber driver gripped my head, forcing the socks into my nostrils, cutting off all fresh air. I gagged and wretched. Apparently taking some pleasure in my discomfort, the driver demanded “Fuck, yeah, smell that shit! Chew it up. They stink to fuck'in bad! Come on, make them pussy walls talk. if you scrape them right they'll chatter back. Long dick that shit! It's good and wet for you. Fill that hole up. How 'bout we 'gag the fag? Open that mouth. Don't fuckin' fight. Mutha-fucker, I said 'Open that mouth'! If you bite my fingers I'll knock the living shit out of you. Now, goddammit, open that mouth! That's right. Choke on them dirty man socks. Fuck yeah. That shit's nasty! Gag on it, bitch! Wretch. Bet that wasn't the first black you was expecting in that throat, hug? Oh, no you don't. No breathing through that nose. You work that mouth. Only through your mouth. Swallow that filth. HERE THAT BRO? HE TRYING TO GAG UP IN THEM SOCKS - SO MAKE THAT ASS BOUNCE AND CLAP - COME ON FUCKER - SLAM THAT SHIT - POUND IT OUT - BITCH SHAKING GOOD - WANT ME CHOKE THE BITCH OUT? THAT’LL MAKE THAT HOLE CREAM ALL OVER YOUR DICK - COME ON G, FUCK IT - FUCK IT - FUCK IT - YEAH G - NUTT IT GOOD - THERE GO - HELL YEAH I HEAR THAT PUSSY GETTING WETTER - YOU FILLING IT UP MAN? CHRIST YEAH!” The daddy grunted and groaned as he bred me and I continued to struggle to breathe through the unclean air filters stuffing my throat. Once his bone was dry, he slid out. The Uber driver released his grip on my head and I stood up and reached to take the now slimy socks from my mouth. I got slapped hard, “No you fucking don’t,” the driver said. He reached down and picked up the dirty red t-shirt back up. Our daddy host plopped himself in the middle of the couch, lit a cigarette, and let out a contented sigh. The Uber driver stood behind me, spun the t-shirt into a cotton binding then wrapped it around my mouth and head, tying it tight. “There,” he said proud of his MacGyver styled handiwork, “Time to put those dirty socks on another spin cycle in that mouth. I want to hear you trying to puke that grit and dirt back up because it ain’t going nowhere so bend the fuck back over and bury that head in them dirty clothes, no one needs to be seeing you, all I need is that hole.” With that, I was unceremoniously upended, my hole jammed with a new, raging boner, and as he took advantage of me all I could do was struggle to keep my breathing focused. The blackened cotton in my mouth was mixing with the filth and saliva to create the foulest punishment. My stomach and throat wanted to push it out, but the tied t-shirt around my head ensured it stayed in place and stewed and brewed. The Uber driver was banging my ass hard when we heard a voice from the front door, “Hey bro, got your text. What’s...OH DAMN!” The driver paused, I set my hands on the couch arm to try to push myself up and got my head slapped, “Where the fuck you going?” I felt the couch move as the daddy host got up, I heard hands clasp, then he said, “Yo slim, this my neighbor Coop. Told you he’d be up for it.” More greetings made, then the new voice said, “Bro - you know the deal with this shit.” Our host said, “Yeah, yeah, fucking chill man. Hang on.” I then felt him rummaging in the pile of dirty clothes. He then pulled another t-shirt over the top of my head but instead of pulling it down over my body, twisted and wrapped it so it so it was like a hood with the neck hole positioned over my nose/mouth. He then took a belt and wound it around my neck and cinched it so my homemade gag and hood wood stay in place. Once his handiwork was done, the driver - who’s dick was still buried in my ass and I could feel the blood in it pulsing - said, “Why they call you Coop?” Before our new guest could answer, the daddy laughed and said, “Cause he be fucking the grannies around here for nothing more than a handful of grocery coupons with that magnum freak dick of his so we call him Coop for short.” All three of the BBCs laughed. The laughter was cut short as I heard a zipper. The Uber driver whistled and cursed. The daddy said, “And that shit ain’t even hard yet,” and Coop added, “You know there’s no worries on that front. See - it’s already coming to life seeing you got this freak’d out craziness happening and I can smell that creampied ass from here. That’s good cause you know I don’t wear fucking condoms and only fuck raw. So he’s good with that?” The other two laughed, “Like he has a choice?” Hmmm - just what I wanted to hear. The Uber driver yanked his dick out of my swollen, used hole. I grunted from the shock of being left gaping and the frustration of not being stuffed. He then took both hands and spread my ring open like he was trying to peek inside a clam shell, “See? Fucking slut right here and let both of us just climb right in raw and dawg it out. All that nicca milk, coating them guts, but I’m about ready to bust again - you down for that?” Coop quickly answered, “Hell yeah, let’s get it on!” I heard some rustling, a few quips, our host turned up the volume of the porn flick a little to which Coop said, “Yeah, luv hearing them bitches cry as they get dicked down.” The Uber driver - or maybe it was the daddy host - I was not real sure at that point, grabbed my right arm and walked me closer to the TV. I figured they would have me get on the ottoman or something, but no. I was guided so I stepped over someone lying on the floor as my left foot brushed his rib cage as I stepped across him. I was then made to kneel and get on my hands and knees - on all fours doggy style - over the body on the floor, which I knew was Coop when he said from underneath me, “Jesus, there’s nicca nutt coating them balls like glaze on a Krispy Kreme,” before he proceeded to start licking and slurping on my nut sack. That shit makes me squirm - can’t help it - have very sensitive balls - but that clearly did not bother him as he smacked, suckled, slurped, and rolled my balls around his mouth like he was shooting 8-ball corner pocket. The Uber driver smacked my head, “Put that face down there, get a feel for what’s coming.” I blindly bobbed my head around like I was dunking for apples at a Halloween fair, not sure what the fuck he was talking about. I then bumped into something long, thick, stiff - Coop’s fucking dick. I paused and the driver chuckled, “Fucking right. Nicca’s got that 12-inch eggplant. You think we busted that cootch open? Fuck no. G is swinging that king dick hole wrecker. Too bad you can’t taste it.” I could only grunt and moan in frustration and awe at what he said as the filthy sock gag in my mouth and t-shirt hood made anything else impossible. I felt hands position themselves on my lower back, then grunted as a big dick slid in my wet hole. The Uber driver started banging my ass again then paused as Coop’s mouth moved from my balls, followed the skin trail back towards my hole, and with a shift of his body underneath mine, he started lapping at the base of the driver’s shaft as he fucked me. “FUCK YEAH - WORK THAT TONGUE. TASTE THAT PUSSY AND DICK MIX - HAPPY TRAILS RIGHT HERE. YOU TRYING TO TASTE THAT DEEP TANG? YEAH? SCOOT BACK A LITTLE MORE - HELL! YOU GOT A MOUTH ON YOU BRO - LICK IT CLEAN SO I CAN DIRTY IT UP AGAIN - FEED YOU THAT HOLE NUTT.” It took me second to guess what was going on, but as Coop has adjusted his body and as his monster dick bounced and danced around my head I figured out he had moved on from just orally working my hole, to sucking the Uber driver’s dick. Coop was tasting my ass - freshly fucked as I coated the driver’s dick. Back and forth the driver went - full length into my arched ass, then dropping down a little to gag Coop. Frankly, tops who suddenly become dick suckers because a big dick is nearby is usually a turn off, but Cop’s donkey dick promised things to come so while he gargled and slurped I could only moan in frustration wishing I could remind them both that load was for my ass - not Coop’s throat. Our daddy host - who must have been back on the couch smoking, chimed in and said, “Yeah, Coops got some mad throat skillz too.” Clearly more than the grannies in the neighborhood were getting serviced. “HERE IT COMES - READY TO SEED THAT WHITE PUSSY AGAIN - LEMME FEEL THAT TONGUE TOO - YEAH - GET READY TO SLURP MY SHIT BECAUSE I GOT ANOTHER NUTT SACK FULL OF CUM - GONNA BLOW IT DEEPER IN THAT HOLE - YOU BETTER GET A STRAW G CAUSE THIS SHIT IS GOING DEEP - FUCKING HELL! BREEDING THAT ASS! RAW DAWGING IT! UGH - UGH - U...YEAH! OPEN THAT MOUTH, IT’S GONNA COME RUSHING OUT WHEN I PULL BACK.” Gagging and slurping filled the room as Coop cleaned off the driver’s dick and then went to town sucking at my gaping hole. He had a fucking Hoover mouth and as he cleaned up the creampie his dick swelled and got as straight and stiff as a Redwood. Coop stopped his deep tongue action, pushed at me; I rolled off to the side and heard him get up. I worked my tongue around the slimy-filthy-cotton-mass in mouth and inhaled through my nose. I would never get the taste or smell out! “I need to put something long and hard in that ass,” Coop warned. I stood up. Multiple hands grabbed me, feet entangled as I was wedged between two legs. Warm hands grabbed my hips, “Here,” Coop instructed, “Put one leg over mine, then the other, I want you to straddle me - don’t worry, I got you. Get in that cowgirl position - time for some black bull dick making you taste some nutt from the back door.” I wasn’t quite sure what he meant, but he and both the daddy and the Uber driver got me into position. In my mind I could see Coop sitting on the ottoman, me straddling his legs, my torso facing his. Coop guided me as he lined up his jumbo 747 for my runway, “That’s it, squat some more, put your arms on my shoulders and hands around my neck - that’s it. Don’t worry, my Gs are holding you up - you won’t fall, I got you too. You trust me? Huh? That’s right - you a good pussy hungry for dick. Good thing these homies opened that cunt up - otherwise - THIS - MIGHT - HURT!” As if he had said, “On 3” all at the same time, he pulled me downwards with his hands, the driver and daddy pushed me down from my shoulders, and Coop slammed up with his hips. The result? Well my ass split and even with all that cum his 12-inch Mandingo dick tore me open like a zipper as he raped my ass. My cries of pain were muffled in the dirty socks in my mouth and the t-shirt hood covering my face pulsed as my breath quickened. I tried to push off from his chest but Coop’s dick had impaled me like a spit through a pig and now he planned to roast and baste me. His two accomplices reached under my arms and lifted me up a bit - Coop slammed his hips up again - my hole split more - he moaned, I cried - they dropped me. I was gutted. Over and over they raised me back up and dropped me back down. All resistance broken, all flesh scorched and burned as Coop broke my walls down into utter destruction. Once Coop was buried as deep as he could go, he leaned back a little and I could hear him sucking someone’s dick again. Damn! I wanted that! I mumbled into the rags in my mouth, to no avail. Having got the taste he wanted, Coop sat up, “Aiight. Ease up off it - that’s it - stand all the way up. Here - turn around and sit. OK, now lean back - you OK. See? You’re on the stool. Scoot forward a little - good - good.” I was on my back on the ottoman and as Coop adjusted my body, the other two Gs started slapping their dicks across my hooded face and talking shit - the warm up for the grand finale as Coop pushed his 12-inches in. One voice mixed into another - yet the message was clear: “SLAM THAT BOSS DICK IN THAT PUSSY!” “MURDER THAT MAGNUM DICK WITH THAT SLOPPY CUNT - RIDE THAT RED BONE” “THAT HOLE DONE YET?” “TUCK THEM KNEES BACK - TIME TO GET THAT WOMB WRECKED!” “HUNGRY PUSSY FOR NICCA SEED - SLURPING THEM BABIES - FUCKING WHORE!” “SEE WHAT HAPPENS WHEN YOU LET INTRUDERS RAID YOUR HOME?” “PUSSY BLEEDING FOR IT GOOD NOW - THAT’S IT - TAKE THIS MOTHA-FUCKIN-DICK BALLS DEEPS - READY TO BREED IT - READY TO FILL IT WITH HOT NUTT!” Some time later the Uber pulled over to the curb. The driver put his right arm across the back of the front seat, turned, smiled and said, “How bout I help you inside? You look a little worse for wear. Maybe I should stay with you for a while, make sure you OK.” Yeah, the weekend was turning out alright after all. I smiled. Then he snapped his fingers, smirked and said, “Oh yeah. I almost forgot. You asked me to drive you around and find some street dudes to fuck you. What say we go grab your wallet and head out. I know just the place to get that hungry hole stuffed with more anonymous, black dick. Who knows? Maybe I’ll decide to tap that hole some more too.” (*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: Want Some Chocolate Sprinkles? “Look, you got some good ass, you was here, I was ready, it was business. Here’s my card. If you got the bank and need a delivery, I got boys who can roll through with anything on the menu – and I mean anything.” Those were the last words the ice cream truck driver had said to me last summer; right after he had collared and chained me inside his truck, drugged me up on Tina, fucked me raw and rough, and bred me deep with his long, thick, black dick. The past several months I have planned work so I could take some leave and have one, long weekend a month where I would dial that number and place my order. The ice cream man’s voice was enough to make my ass cream, buried within the few words he would speak to me each time were the memories: the pair of size 13 boots and a pair of bare legs sticking out from the other side of the tree – legs that looked like mini-tree trunks themselves, thick, and sturdy the whiff of his cigar how his hair was cut low and tight, and he had a nice thick beard with skin that was a rich, dark ebony how his gold wedding band flashed brightly as his fingers rose up and down in motion like he was playing a piano on his mandingo instrument how he asked, “So you trying to be a bitch for a big dick?” then as he placed the leather collar and chain around my neck said, “Bitches need to be chained up if they want to get mounted by the big dawg knot.” all that before he stuffed my hole with an ice-pop of his nutt, made me snort Tina before forcing me to lick crystals off his dick and burying some big shards up my ass and finally making my hole open, wet, and sloppy just how he liked it!!! The first time I pulled out his card and debated what to do I thought he was pretty fucking brilliant. The card said, 3-SQUARES CATERING - WE DELIVER ONLY THE HIGHEST QUALITY, FRESHEST MEALS, FOR EVERY OCCASION. Then when I called I asked about seeing him again and he ignored my question and said gruffly, “What the fuck’s your order? When do you want it?” He then blew his stack when I said, “Uh, maybe a baggy of crystal and…” and literally screamed in the phone, “WE DON’T CATER FANCY DINNERS - SO IT’S ALL PAPER PLATES AND PLASTIC!” before dishing out a series of “dumb asses.” I didn’t understand what he meant at all and was pissed that he was pissed like how the fuck would I know what to say or do? Not like he explained before kicking me to the curb with an ass full of nutt. He huffed, then said more calmly, “That’ll be an order of Surf-N-Turf, extra rare, double sauce on the side, with chocolate roll for dessert. Your delivery will be there in 30 to 60 minutes, cash only.” So, from that first order I learned Surf-N-Turf was a small baggy of Tina/crystal (the Surf was - according to my server/delivery man/gigolo - code for Tina on Gilligan’s Island - seemed like a stretch to me but hey); the Turf was one of his boys who would have at least 10 inches (real inches not that fake shit dudes trying to pass off on the internet); that extra rare meant bareback and raw fucking; double sauce on the side meant I would get at least two loads in my ass as the boys were young, hood thugs who could double tap with barely breaking a sweat; and finally the chocolate roll for dessert meant it would be BBC. Maybe he had other races in the mix, but that’s what he offered and what I took and was fucking happy! The second time I called I placed my order without incident and when he asked if my last order had been delivered on time and the meal cooked to my satisfaction my only complaint had been his boy had snorted ⅔ of my baggy of Tina in the hour he was with me fucking. But, my hole ached for days after so if they had been on Yelp it would have been five stars all the way. I had enjoyed the deliveries and never once was disappointed. When I called the second time I was offered the chance to have the same driver deliver as, “he is already in the area,” but I passed and said, “That’s OK, I’ll wait for the next one as I am in no rush.” Every guy the ice cream man sent was rough, thuggish, with a huge dick, tons of sperm, and willing to throw a no-holds-barred fuck. Well worth the time and money. Since they were keeping my hole used and abused, I didn’t focus on the ice cream man anymore, although I still jerked off thinking about that day. Fast forward to spring, April in DC, and it is Cherry Blossom Festival time. While the city is beautiful this time of year all of the fucking tourists drive me crazy. With that said, I still decided to go the final event of the Festival, which was to see the fireworks down on the river right near my condo. The fireworks were scheduled to start at 9:00 p.m., and I got down there about 8:30 to walk around a bit, listen to the live band, see the booths they had set up, and just chill and mingle. I was lost in thought looking at some paintings a local artist was selling under a small tent when a strong hand clamped the back of my neck, squeezed hard, and a faintly familiar, yet clearly drunk/high voice said, “I think it’s about time you start upping on your orders. My pocket’s feeling light.” I turned, my mouth gaped, the hand squeezed harder as the ice cream man’s cigar smoke breath washed over me when he said - loud enough to make people turn and stare - “So bitch, you trying to get that pussy sloppy and filled with black syrup?” In response I reached into my pocket and pulled out my cash and from between the folds of the $20 bills extracted my black credit card and held it up, “Let’s see what’s on the menu tonight!” The ice cream man choked, coughed, sputtered and laughed and in the midst of trying to hold himself together dropped his cigar, which sent him into a fit of swearing, followed by disdained ‘hushes’ from people nearby reminding him there were children about. Once he pulled himself together, the ice cream man looked around and said, “Fuck I hate kids,” gripped my neck and started guiding me through the crowd. He didn’t say a word as we made our way up to Waterfront Street, then he stopped, relit his cigar, took a big puff, and smiled as he waved the lit stogie towards the right. “Boy’s doing alright it seems.” I looked where he pointed and there was his beat up ice cream truck with a younger guy working the window, hustling cones and frozen delights like an expert juggler. “My nephew just got out from doing a dime,” the ice cream man said as he looked at his vending truck. “Bout time he fucking grows up and learns a trade, so now he’s with me. Shit - this life is for the young folks you know what I mean? Time for me to ease out of the game, shift my focus and hustle, spend more time fuckin-loving-and-leaving-pussy-wet then slinging shit. You know what I mean?” I glanced at his nephew, who looked too young to have done 10 years in prison so he must have gone in as a juvenile. He was not handsome in the classic sense by any stretch, but he was masculine as hell and I could see tatts on his face, back of his hands, his arms were covered, and more peeked up through the scoop in his white tank top. He had semi-long dreads and my asshole quivered. I jumped as an insistent finger poked at my hole and the ice cream man laughed, “Fuck, you a dick hungry bitch! I can hear that ass clapping for it already and I ain’t even busted you back open yet. Come on. You tonight’s menu and bout time my nephew learns a new hustle.” I followed the ice cream man to the back of the truck. He threw open the door, climbed in, I went up the two-steps behind him, and paused as he said slammed his hand down on the cooler, “Time to go. Shut the shit down.” His nephew looked to him, to me, then started to object, but the ice cream man was having none of it, “ I SAID SHUT THE SHIT DOWN. YOU - THERE - GET THE FUCK BACK FROM MY TRUCK UNLESS YOU WANT TO GET RUN OVER. GET NOW. GET!!” The nephew gave me a dirty look as he hustled out the back and amidst the cries from kids saying, “Daddy I want an ice cream!” picked up their display boards, tethered the window shut, made the final adjustments, and hopped back in as his Uncle revved the engine and turned on the soundtrack. The musical chimes still sounded like it was on its last leg – off tune, missing beats, and volume that faded in and out. “Let me drive. You go deal with - with whatever the fuck that is,” the nephew said as he fought his Uncle for the seat and steering wheel while glaring at me. The ice cream man laughed, dropped his cigar stub on the metal floor and stomped it out, then said, “Fucking fine. Just get us out of here. Go - hell I don’t give a shit where. Go to the reup drop. That’ll work.” The ice cream truck belched, revved, and swayed back and forth as it slowly wound its way out of the crowds and towards M Street SW. By the time we hit M Street, I was naked, with a collar around my neck, and a pair of leather cuffs on my wrists that were connected with chains like I was in a prison transport. The ice cream man took the chain hanging down my back from the collar and looped it through the chain connecting my wrists before reaching up and snapping the end into a metal eye hook suspended in the ceiling. I was facing forward - my arms suspended now - and kept meeting the nephew’s gaze as he looked in the rearview mirror trying to figure out what the fuck his Uncle was doing. Each gasp from my throat when his Uncle would roughly jam a shard of Tina up my ass would make his eyes flit my way, then quickly back to the road as we made our way into Northeast DC. By the time the ice cream truck halted, and the nephew set it in park, turned the engine off, then stood up to join us, my ass was stuffed with Tina and frozen nutt like I was a damn Piñata. Except the candy would take an awful long, big bat to find and I couldn’t wait to get busted open. “That pussy still good?” the ice cream man asked me. I almost purred as the Tina sloughed away inside my burning rectum. “Slide your dick up in there boy,” the ice cream man said to his nephew as he pointed at my stuffed ass. The nephew shook his head in objection, “Naw man Unc, I ain’t no fag and shit.” His Uncle laughed, “Boy I know you had them faggies on their knees swallowing that joint when you were inside and bred them every chance you got. So don’t be fronting with me now.” The nephew paused to think and consider, “Well yeah, but it wasn’t like that. On the inside that’s just how shit goes. Don’t mean nothing.” The ice cream man gave my white ass a big smack, spun me back around as I stood on the balls of my feet trying not to swing too far, “Right, and don’t mean nothing out here neither. I love your auntie. You know I been to hell and back with that woman, but fuck, I can’t even get her to touch my dick any more let alone give it up. These white asses like this - they serve the purpose just fine. Lesson #1, don’t get wrapped up in no drama with some side chick because they will fuck your business up. Trust me. That’s nothing you ever want to bring home and your girl/wife will always find out - always. Lesson #2, his ass is pussy. Pink pussy eager for BBC ain’t that right? When I say get lost you gone. Ain’t that right? When I say lick my fucking ass your tongue be flapping. Ain’t that right? When I say show me them stackz and buy my product, you be asking how thick do I want them and give me the entire fucking menu. Ain’t that right?” I eagerly said, “YES SIR!” to it all. The schooling continued, “Lesson #3, target them DILFs, especially them white professional guys who all clean cut during the workday but on the weekends and when the lights down, they the freakiest of the bunch. Ain’t that right?” the ice cream mean asked. Like I really needed to responded hanging naked from a chain as I was. He went on, “They got the cash to spend. This truck? It’s a hustle. That dope we sling? It’s a hustle. Snag and grab them wallets that willing to take some dick on the side too, now that’s a double hustle.” The ice cream man smacked my ass hard then said, “Tell my nephew here what your favorite take out order is?” I easily recited it, “Surf-N-Turf, extra rare, double sauce on the side, with chocolate roll for dessert.” The ice cream man laughed, smacked me again, and then asked, “And what you trying to order today?” as he waved by credit card around. “Double of everything?” I asked. He laughed again and replied, “Well, let’s start with that and see where things go.” Shit. I was always up for a little fun, but maybe this was more than I was ready for. My thoughts about trying to back out were interrupted as the ice cream man tossed a couple of baggies of Tina towards his nephew before inspecting his box, then turned and said, “Now you two go on ahead and get on it while I go inside to the reup and hook up with the boys. Lesson #4, the key to this double hustle is you got to get your shit hard and ready in 30 seconds flat with no sucking or help from them cause sometimes you only got a minute to get in there and dump that load. That’s what they all want - feeling that mandingo monster burning their hole and wetting it up with baby batter. You can try to fake that shit, but trust, to get the repeat ass you gotta drop some chunks. That’s just good customer service.” The nephew shook his head trying to take it all in as he leaned back against one of the coolers, lit a cigarette, then started to rearrange the baggies like little plastic soldiers being lined up for a battle. His Uncle lit a fresh cigar and just as he got to the back door he turned and said, “And boy, lesson #5 - you ain’t never the bitch and no money in the world is worth flipping. Remember you the top dawg - always! They’re the bitches and can always tell when a top be faking and ain’t nothing more than a bitch with a strap on. You remember them Pit Bulls your granddaddy used to breed and train up? You remember how he always strapped the bitch down so the best fighters could mount her and knock her up with puppies? Just like that. This hustle ain’t about being sweet and precious and all that shit. It’s about raw, rough fucking and you getting your nutt and them filling your wallet.” His lessons done, the ice cream man stepped down out of the truck, closed the door, and left me alone with his nephew. The nephew exhaled a cloud of cigarette smoke, casually tapped his ash onto the floor of the ice cream truck, then set the still it cigarette on the edge of the ice cream cooler. I couldn’t help but think there must laws against that kind of shit right? Food service rules and all? Yet this was a drug dealer’s truck so I guess the bigger risk was mixing up powdered sugar for the waffle cones with a bag of cocaine or some shit. He pulled open one of the baggies, dumped some rock on the stainless cooler top, grabbed a spoon from one of those plastic silverware caddies with holes in it, and started to crush the rock up. He reached in his pocket; pulled out a motley mix of bills and cards, found a card he liked, and started to use that to scoop the crushed crystal into lines. He then reached up on a shelf, grabbed a box, pulled out a razor blade, and continued to cut the rock down into snortable bits. Satisfied, he grabbed a straw from a box on the corner, tore the paper cover off and tossed the remnants to the side, laid the straw on the counter and cut it with the razor, then bent over and snorted a couple big lines. “You sure you should be snorting that?” I asked, “Won’t you get Tina dick?” The nephew wiped his nose, squinted, set the straw down, unbuckled his pants and let his monster out. He wasn’t wearing underwear and I could smell his ripe, rank, musty balls and unwashed dick head from where I was. I inhaled the man musk as he stroked it once - twice - then BINGO! His long dick stiffened right up to a hefty 10+inches. He grinned at me with a ‘fuck you’ smirk, then snorted some more. “Hey, what about me? Don’t I get some too?” I asked. The nephew took a couple shuffled steps towards me, his pants still down around his ankles, his hard dick making me spin on the chain as he steered past me. He reached up, unlatched the chain from the eyehook. I rotated my shoulders to get the blood flowing in my arms and walked over to the counter, grabbed the straw with my cuffed/chained hands, and bent over and snorted the fresh crush. I stood up, started to wipe my nose, then got startled as the nephew was now right behind me, both hands holding my neck, his fingers squeezing between my flesh and the leather collar, “So is my Uncle right? You just want to get it raw, rough, and deep? Want some jail dick? Want to be fucked like a prison bitch? Make you take this dick!” I grunted as he pushed his dick head into my puckered hole, which was clenched tight from the crystal shards his Uncle had put in there. The nephew swore, pulled back, spit on his hand but I stopped him, “No - fuck it dry. I want to feel it push through then once you in, it’ll be wet - I promise.” The black dick was back at my hole, more forcefully, and the nephew asked, “Why will it be wet? You already been fucked?” I laughed, “No, your Uncle shoved one of his nutt-pops in there. Said he likes sloppy pussy.” I yelped a little as his dry dick split my hole, pushed in, then went rigid as he tore through and spread my guts open in one, deep stroke. “Oh yeah,” he said, “Wet, sloppy pussy. Juicy. Bend the fuck over, let me long dick that hole,” my new deliveryman said. I was happy to oblige and closed my eyes and relished the feel of his pounding as my hole got worked. Far too soon he pulled up, yanked his dick out, grabbed the collar and stood me up and handed me a plastic tub and said, “Squat and let that shit out. I want that pussy dry now so all you feel is my nutt.” I did as I was told and watched as he kicked off his shoes, stepped out of his pants, and pulled his t-shirt off. His chest and torso were covered in tatts but they were fucked up looking and all scarred, ridged, like the skin/ink was half missing in places. The nephew rubbed his hands over his body, “Jailhouse shit. Dirty needle I guess, they got infected.” Christ. While it was a little hard moving around inside the ice cream truck, in nothing flat the nephew had put a couple of cardboard boxes down on the floor, and stomped on them flat - his big dawg feet nails clicking on the metal floor as he pushed me down onto my stomach. “Arch that back bitch,” he said as his young dick split my hole dry, raw, and rough. I tried grabbing at the leather collar with one hand to try to ease his pull when he slapped my head, yanked back on the collar harder, and angled his dick to the right - left - then straight in deep. “YEAH MY UNCLE WAS RIGHT. JUST LIKE JAIL. SHUT THE FUCK UP AND TAKE THIS DICK. YOU DON’T WANT TO WAKE YOUR CELLIE OR LET THE GUARDS HEAR. YOU WANT SOME BABIES? SOME PRISON DICK BABIES? YEAH YOU A GOOD FUCKED UP BITCH - FAGGOT FOR MY BLACK DICK - HUNGRY PUSSY THAT I’M MAKING WET. CATCH THIS NUTT - PUSH THAT ASS BACK - CATCH THIS NUTT - 30 SECOND NUTT COMING THROUGH, READY TO FLOOD THEM GUTS, FILL YOU UP - LEAVE YOU DRIPPING. FUCK YEAH, SHOOTING IN YOU RAW YOU NASTY SLUT - PRISON SLUT - TAKE IT - TAKE IT - GRRRRR….” BBC cum was dripping out of my hole and puddling on the cardboard beneath me. The ice cream man’s nephew had just bred me raw, yet he was not done. Having snorted the remainder of the crushed up Tina, he yanked me up by the collar, had me sit u on the ice cream cooler and lean back so he could lift my legs up on his arms, then he slammed back in. When his Uncle opened the door and stepped in a minute later, his nephew didn’t pause a stroke, and beat it harder and faster and let his Uncle watch as he dumped another load. “TAKE THIS FUCKING LOAD - GOOD PRISON TRADE PUSSY RIGHT HERE - HUSTLE THAT SHIT - TRADE THAT PUSSY FOR CIGARETTES. YOU TRYING TO GET PIMPED? YEAH YOU ARE. I’M YOUR BOSS AND YOU WILL DO WHAT THE FUCK I SAY - OPEN THAT PINK PUSSY UP - OPEN THAT UP - LET ME NUTT IT UP AGAIN. HERE YOU GO - HERE YOU GO - PRISON DICK IN THAT DILF ASS - FUCKING PUSSY ASS - FUCKING….AAAAAAHHHH - YYYEEESSS!” Having satisfied his need, the nephew promptly yanked his dick out, dropped my legs, and laughed as I scrambled not to fall off the cooler. My hands being chained was making it touch as I twisted, turned, and tried to find a dignified way to dismount. “WHERE THE FUCK YOU THINK YOU GOING?” the ice cream man bellowed as he set his cigar firmly between his teeth, unzipped his pants, and pulled out his whopper. “YOU KNOW I LIKE SLOPPY PUSSY AND I GOT SOME HOT CHOCOLATE SAUCE RIGHT HERE FOR YOU. COME ON BOY; HOLD HIS LEGS BACK UP SO I CAN STUFF IT FULL OF SPRINKLES AGAIN. FREE LESSON FOR YOU - JAM THOSE BIG SHARDS DEEP AND SCRATCH IT UP - MAKES THAT PUSSY TWITCH AND CONVULSE AND FUCKS THEM RIGHT UP AND THEIR TRAPS GET SO HUNGRY THEY LET YOU RAPE FUCK IT HOW YOU WANT. AIN’T THAT RIGHT?” I could only moan as I leaned back against the ice cream truck wall, lost in the sensations of the cold cooler under my body while thick fingers stuffed me with Tina and set my ass on fire. “HHHMMMM - YES - TWO SCOOPS HOLE FULL OF FUDGE NUTT,” the ice cream man said as he parted my ass lips and eased in, “HERE BOY, KEEP THIS SMOKE GOING FOR ME WHILE GIVE HIM ANOTHER FLAVOR.” His nephew took his cigar and set it between his teeth and huffed and puffed on it while he stroked his dick back to readiness as he watched his Uncle bang me. “GET THE FUCK OFF THERE. I WANT YOU TO BEND OVER AND SHOW ME THAT HOLE SO I CAN FIND THAT THIRD HOLE,” the ice cream man growled. I was roughly dragged off the cooler, turned around, slammed face down and bent over and howled in pain as he started to brutal fuck me. OK, well in honesty not ‘pain’ really - discomfort, sure - but I knew he liked it when he thought it was hurting. “THIS IS HOW YOU DO IT. NO MERCY AT ALL. JUST SLAM THE FUCK IN - GO DEEP - AND PULL OUT AND SLAM BACK IN. GOTTA KEEP SHIT MOVING AND DON’T HAVE TIME TO FUCKING WALK IN THE PARK. LEAVE THEM SORE, HURT, AND FILLED WITH NUTT AND THEY BE CALLING FOR DELIVERIES MORE THAN YOU CAN IMAGINE. WHY? CAUSE NO ONE ELSE FUCKS THEM LIKE THIS. THEY MIGHT GET OTHER DICK - BUT NOT HOOD DICK - NOT ROUGH DICK - NOT DICK THAT WILL TAKE IT WITH FORCE AND USE THEIR ASS WITHOUT GIVING A FUCK ABOUT HOW THEY FEEL. AIN’T THAT RIGHT?” I could only mumble a week, “Yes Sir,” as he blended those Tina rocks into my guts and prepped my hole for another breeding. “PUSH BACK NOW, TRY TO FIGHT IT, THAT’S IT FUCKING SLOPPY BITCH ASS - THAT’S IT - FEEL THAT GOOD GOOD SLAMMING YOU - FEEL THAT BBC SWELLING - FEEL ME POLLINATING THAT ASS WITH MY SEED - FEEL ME ADDING A PINT OF HOT SYRUP - OH YEAH - HERE IT GOES - RIGHT IN THAT HOLE - RIGHT IN THAT HOLE - CHOCO VANILLA SWIRL, MY FUCKING FAVORITE!” Having shown his nephew how to drop that nutt on the hustle, the ice cream man pulled out his milk crate, sat down, leaned back, and puffed on his cigar. When his nephew frantically grabbed my hips, dug his nails in and slammed back into me with all his might, in a frantic, desperate need to cum once more the iced cream man just laughed and said, “There you go my man. The torch has been passed to a new generation.” About 60-seconds later more BBC-family nutt was running down my leg as the ice cream man stuck the end of his cigar into my cummy/Tina filled hole, scooped it out, then smacked his lips as he huffed again. He looked at me and said, “I WANT TO SEE HOW HUNGRY THAT ASS IS - YOU EVER TAKEN 12 INCHES? 13? IT’S ONLY A BIT BIGGER. WELL A BIT LONGER ANYWAYS. THICK AS MY WRIST THOUGH. I BET YOU CAN. NO CHOICE REALLY - MORE LIKE YOU WILL TAKE IT. HEY BOY, CRUSH UP SOME MORE OF THAT SHIT, LET’S PACK THAT CHUTE, THEN GO IN AND TELL THE GUYS HE’S READY.” Still smacking his ass pussy flavored cigar the ice cream man stood up, grabbed my chains, hooked me back to the ceiling, then reached into a box and pulled out a rag and stuffed it in my mouth. He grinned then said, “I THINK YOU MAY SCREAM ON THESE ONES, BUT THAT’S COOL - TRY - TOLD THEM THIS WAS A NO LIMITS FUCK. YOU WANT SOME MORE SPRINKLES?” (*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!)

The angel of death had wrapped me in his wings and had buried his golden dick inside my ass. My trip to Cuba had been like the Wild Kingdom - smuggled over the sea in a cargo ship, bribed my way in, hidden in the back of a truck, taken to some building where I was drugged up like a zombie and laid on the altar as a sacrifice during some crazy Santeria ritual that was more bestiary than AirBnB. How I made it back to the states I don’t really know, as I was zombied out the entire way except for a brief moment when Brother Roberto, a.k.a. Bob, kneeled by my head, rubbed my cheek, smiled and said, “WE ARE GOING HOME.” HE PAUSED, NODDED TOWARDS THE MAN ON MY BACK WHO WAS BURIED IN MY ASS AND WHISPERED IN HOLY WONDER, "USTED ENCONTRÓ EL DORADO" - TRANSLATION - “YOU FOUND EL DORADO.” My eyelids felt like they were weighted down, but with great effort I was able to make a small slit and turn my head. I moaned. I ached and hurt all over. Where was I? It took several minutes and focused exertion, but finally I was able to roll over and see my surroundings. I was back in the monk cell room where I had been taken the first day I met Father Adelmo. A short time later the door unlocked, opened, and one of the twinks dressed in crisp whites cautiously entered. His face looked like he expected to find a bear coming out of hibernation or something. I could not understand what he might be afraid of and when I tried to speak, nothing came out but dry, raspy, gasps. The twink gently set a large tray on the side chair, helped me sit up, then eased a glass of water to my cracked lips. I spilled more than I drank, but it tasted good. Then he held up a small plate filled with white lines of powder. I snorted one - then another - the burn helping to sweep away the cobwebs that had filled my head. “How long have I been back?” I asked. “Where is Bob - I mean Brother Roberto? Where is Father Adelmo? Did...did…?” The twink just shook his head, looking even more fearful. “I am sorry,” he said, “They have said you must remain in here and wait for...for HIM to come to you. That until the time is right, you must remain here.” What the fuck? I peppered him with more questions and after the fifth, “I don’t know,” I gave up, snatched the plate, and snorted some more. The twink then began uncovering some plates of food, and went into the small bathroom to run water from the tap into a tiny, golden vase that held a single white rose. Seeing he was focused on that, I stood up, took a few stumbling steps, made it to the door and yanked it open. My egress was blocked by one of the damn Brother Robertos who just glowered, pushed me back, and slammed the door. OK, point made. Sitting back on the edge of the bed I started to run my hands over my body. I felt sore, odd, displaced and the memories of Cuba all came rushing back. Did I get infected with the CRF19 virus? What had happened to me then? What had happened since? The twink kneeled on the floor, held out a plate of scrambled eggs and a fork that he had jabbed a few bits on, “Father says you must eat.” I snarled, “I can feed myself, thanks.” I barely had four bites of eggs before my stomach revolted and I heaved. The twink was prepared and had a small porcelain bowl in hand that I spewed the eggs into. “Father said this may happen. Take your time. It’s OK,” he assured me. Several minutes later I tried again and was able to keep them down with some effort. Satisfied, the twink said, “Here, let me help you into the bathroom so I can get you cleaned up.” “Jesus fuck!” I said as I leaned on the sink to steady myself and saw my reflection in the mirror. My face and body were bruised, swollen, there were large cuts like claw marks in various stages of scabbing on my chest and sides. I leaned closer and gently touched the large marks on my shoulder by my neck. No can’t be - but they looked like multiple sets of bite marks and far too large to be made by a man. No, what happened in Cuba was all a dream, an effect of being high; shit I imagined right? That’s what I kept telling myself as the twink gently sponge bathed me. He was drying me off when we heard the door open. We both turned and in came Bob. “Well, it’s about fucking time,” I said, “Why the fuck I am locked in here and why…” I stopped. Bob was holding a golden cup and while he never said much at all, that would have been about the time I expected him to cuff my head. Yet, he just stood there and then there were two more Brothers beside him. This can’t be good. I edged back, they came forward, and one Brother grabbed my right arm and twisted, the other my left. The twink huddled in the corner as Bob stepped in front of me, held the cup up, closed his eyes and mouthed a silent prayer. He then held the cup towards my lips and I could smell it. That same sour yogurt shit they made me drink in Cuba that turned me into a petrified log. No fucking way! I struggled, the Brother’s easily held me steady as Bob used his left hand to press my head against the wall and his right to pour the milky contents into my throat. I could have spit it out, but what was the point? Because it dawned on me, if they were drugging me up again, maybe that meant more dick, and more dick meant more virus. THE ROOM SPUN, MY BODY FLOATED, I WAS CARRIED ON THE WIND… A BEAST WITH HORNS AND GREAT, LONG FANGS WAS OVER MY BODY, IT’S SALIVA DRIPPING LIKE ACID ONTO MY FLESH… TALONS RAKED MY SKIN AND PIERCED MY FLESH AS I WAS HELD DOWN LIKE CARRION AND ASSAULTED BY A VICIOUS RAPTOR… GOLDEN SPIKES TORE MY ASS OPEN AND MINED MY INSIDES BLOODY AS I WAS POUNDED DEEPER AND DEEPER… THE LAVA POURED FORTH FROM THE VULCAN GOD OF FIRE, EXTINGUISHING THE LIFE FORCE I HAD TRIED TO HOLD TIGHT… THE CHANTING ROSE IN RHYTHMIC PRAISE AROUND ME, TETHERING ME TO THIS WORLD, TETHERING ME TO THE ALTAR OF SACRIFICE… I COULD TASTE HIS BODY - AND HE MINE - WE WERE ONE. I was lying on my stomach as I opened my eyes. The grunts and moans of pleasure from the man fucking me letting me know I was being bred again. By whom I did not know, and I didn’t care, but from the pile of black clothes on the chair it was a Brother Roberto. They were taking turns raping my drugged up body. My mind was awake, but my body was still stiff and frozen from the zombie drug. The inside of my ass was awake too and I could feel every brutal thrust, every tear in my gut lining, and every drop of man cum as they continued to fill me. That was how the next several days went. The twink would come in and feed me, bath me, Bob would show up with two of his Brother goons to make me drink the Santeria brew, then it was off to Babylon as I became the whore for the beasts - and then the whore for the Brothers Roberto. That was how the next several days went that is until the puking started, which did not stop. Until the fever hit me, which did not abate. Until the sweats overtook me and the shaking was so bad I could not stand. At the height of my sickness, Father Adelmo appeared, along with the golden skull - or maybe it was all a delusion - yet I was sure the Father had fucked me. I had felt the thick, braided cord of his golden beads as he had wrapped them tightly around my neck and then his holy prayers as he squeezed his hands tight and seeded my ass. I was his lamb. The golden skull had watched and smiled even, then he too was inside me - stretching me wider, digging me deeper, flooding me fuller. Over and over he bred me while I was nothing more than a flop doll - a sick sack of wilted flesh that he used. It seemed to never end and he was always there, always fucking me, always scorching my insides with his toxic cum. The hushed and whispered voices sounded real. I unclenched my fist; the blanket felt real. I opened my right eye; the lights, shadows, forms and shapes seemed real. I groaned. That was real too. A warm hand took my chin and turned my head a bit to the side, “Transmutation,” Father Adelmo said. His face was now close to mine. He was smiling as he repeated the word, “Transmutation. The lamb has been slaughtered and returns as a gift for my children. Rest now. Rest.” I drifted back off not knowing what he meant. The next two days the twink was back feeding me, cleaning me, keeping me company. I felt fine, better than fine even. Yet one thing had not changed, I was still locked up in that damn monk cell. This time, Bob did not stop by. No one did. The only person I saw for two days was the twink who continued to be a source of frustration with how little he knew, or could or would say. On the third day I was woken up by the twink and a large golden platter full of white powder. I quickly snorted a few lines and wanted more. I wanted to get fucked too. My insides were crawling and twisting and I needed some dick bad. I asked the twink for some food and he shook his head and said, “Not today. Today is Easter and today is THE day.” Whatever the fuck that meant. So I spent the following hours snorting lines, talking to myself since the twink was a worthless conversationalist, and pacing back and forth in my little cell. In the late afternoon there was a loud knocking on the door and the twink jumped up and said, “Come, we must get you cleaned up and ready.” Ready for what? I got no answers so as he washed me, oiled me like a roasted pig, and made me presentable, I cleaned the plate of white powder. Finally, as dusk began to descend on Miami, the door opened and in came Bob and two of his Brothers Roberto. The Brothers - Bob included - were dressed in their usual black, but today, Bob had large, golden chains hanging around his neck that were jeweled and layered. The other Brothers had large, red silk sashes wrapped around their waists that were intricately embroidered with heavy, gold thread depicting images I could not quite make out. My curiosity grew as the Brothers parted, a twink I had not seen before walked in carrying a pile of white cloth, also heavily embroidered in gold. He gently draped it on the bed, bowed towards me and backed out of the room. I was really confused. Bob stepped behind me and raised my arms up and out. The two Brothers then took the white, embroider cloth and draped it over my shoulders and arms. Layer upon layer of white silk with heavy golden threads caressed my naked body and I wondered to myself, “Why are they dressing me up like Cleopatra or some shit?” I started to ask, but Bob cuffed my head and I turned and glared and he just smiled. Smart ass. I held up the silk and looked more closely at the designs - the stitching created the affect of wings and more - like I was an angel. There was a loud knock on the door. Bob stood in front of me, looked me up and down, did a quick tuck of a bit of hair on my head that was not in place to his liking, then as the two Brothers left the room, Bob set my right hand on his left arm and escorted me out of my cell. You might think I would be embarrassed being naked with nothing but some fancy bed sheet over me, but no. All these guys had fucked me - repeatedly - and the white powder I snorted made me not give a fuck about anything, so hell, I was going along for the ride. We made our way through some of the Father’s elaborate rooms, and towards his chapel. The sounds of rhythmic chanting filled the air, as did the smoke of incense and candles. We entered the chapel and I halted. There was Father Adelmo dressed in robes of gold brocade with jewels on each finger, a miter hat, chains of gold - the embodiment of a prince of the church. On one side of the chapel were the Brothers Roberto all dressed in black with the same red sashes around their waists. Why were there so many? There must have been 15 or 20. I thought there was maybe seven or eight. The other side of the chapel was lined with rows of twinks in their crisp whites. They too had on sashes, but their’s were white with gold embroidery. The two Brothers entered first and stood just to the side and were followed by Bob and I. Bob escorted me to the right of Father Adelmo, who smiled and nodded at me. I smiled back then my ass twitched as I looked at his hard, throbbing dick and the gold cock ring he wore. Fuck! The chanting of the Brothers and twinks continued and as it reached a crescendo, Father Adelmo held out his arms, palms up, towards the far door. The doors opened, two twinks in white came out, followed by a third who carried a large, red silk pillow with something golden and long placed in the middle of it. Suddenly all sound in the room ceased except for the soft crackling of the fire consuming the candlewicks. I turned towards the door and gasped - there was the golden skull! The man standing in the door was dressed like me in flowing layers of silk, but unlike the white I had on his, his were blood red. The fantastical designs embroidered in gold on his robe were of beasts of various shapes and sizes, all with massive dicks protruding from their bodies. I looked at the man again as he walked towards us, his skin a golden, brown hue, his hair black and wavy. His face - well his face was hidden behind the mask - a mask of pure gold in the shape of a skull - this was my El Dorado. This must be the man who had fucked me in Cuba. This must be the man who had fucked me on the boat back. This must be the man/beast that had been fucking me while I was sick. El Dorado confidently walked towards us and stood to the left of Father Adelmo. His blood red robes made him appear larger than he was, for while he was taller than me, I could see his ribs where the cloth parted, but that’s not what I focused on. I inhaled sharply as I looked at his dick. Fuck it was a good 9-inches and appeared mostly soft, yet that quickly changed as he turned his golden skull face towards me and his dick began to grow and lengthen to its full brutal potential. Father Adelmo started speaking - fuck I wish I knew Spanish - so I have no idea what was being said, but Bob escorted me over to stand directly in front of Father Adelmo. El Dorado then stepped up beside me and took Bob’s place, grabbing my shaking hand with his and sending sparks of desire and need shooting through my body. The congregants replied in affirmation and holy ecstasy to whatever Father Adelmo had said. The Father’s dick was drooling precum and I leaned forward and glanced down and saw El Dorado’s dick was too. I wanted to gnaw on his foreskin, lick him clean, and feel him inside me! Bob was on my left and grabbed my hand as the Brothers who had escorted us in pulled the white silk draping my body off me and stepped back. I turned and looked as I watched the two twinks who had come in with El Dorado do the same to him. The third, the one who had been carrying the large, red pillow, had stepped forward and was holding aloft the long, golden, item that had nestled in its silken folds. It was a cock sheath. A metal cock sheath. A golden, metal cock sheath, with fine mesh loops that formed the perfect replica of a gigantic dick. Bob squeezed my hand as I watched the twink kneel, gently slide it up and over El Dorado’s now pulsing shaft, then step behind him as he tied the golden cords together to hold it firmly in place. Father Adelmo stepped off the raised dais, held a golden chalice up on front of me and said, “TASTE OF MY BODY - TASTE OF MY BLOOD - TASTE OF MY SPIRIT!” I sniffed at the cup. Fuck that zombie shit again! My dick and ass are programmed though as no sooner do I smell the pungent odor than my dick stiffens, my hole pulses, and my ass pussy starts wetting itself. I take a sip, then a gulp, and then empty the entire chalice. I pat my mouth with the back of my hand as Father Adelmo smiles, steps to the side, and holds his left arm out in the direction of the dais. There, I can now see in full the altar is covered in white silk - the site of my sacrifice and funeral pyre like I am about to become a martyr or saint. I start to crumble as the drink kicks in, but the Brothers catch me under my arms, help me forward, then raised and lifted me and laid me on my back on the altar. Bob stands behind my head with his hands reassuringly on my shoulders. One Brother grabs my right ankle and lifts it up, the other my left. My asshole is open, exposed, waiting. My eyes follow Father Adelmo as he circles the altar I am laying on three times with El Dorado in tow. El Dorado has added his voice to the Father’s as together their chant sets the stage for the next act. The Father stops between my raised legs, looks at me, and smiles. He steps away and El Dorado takes his place, his skull mask now seeming to shift, move, and change from man - to beast - to horned demon - and back. As before when I took the zombie drink, my body is completely immobile, yet inside, my ass can still feel. I would have screamed if I could have when El Dorado pushed his golden, metal covered dick inside me. EL DORADO’S GOLDEN, CRF19 INFECTED DICK SKINNED ME ALIVE. HE PULLED OUT AND STEPPED BACK AND A BROTHER ROBERTO ENTERED MY ASS AND COMPLETED SEVERAL LONG STROKES. HE LOOKED DOWN AS HE WITHDREW HIS DICK, THEN STEPPED OUT OF SIGHT, TO BE REPLACED BY ANOTHER BROTHER. SEVERAL LONG STROKES AND THE BROTHER LOOKED DOWN AS HE WITHDREW HIS DICK, THEN STEPPED OUT OF SIGHT. EL DORADO STEPPED UP AGAIN AND THIS TIME HE WENT DEEPER, HIS BEASTIAL CLAWS GOUGING MY INNARDS AND WHEN HE WITHDREW I KNEW THE WHITE ALTAR COVERING WAS STAINED EVEN MORE. ANOTHER BROTHER ENTERED ME AND AS HE STROKED I COULD HEAR OTHER SOUNDS FROM THE ROOM. CRIES OF PAIN, BUT THEY WERE NOT MINE. I THEN THOUGHT I UNDERSTOOD - THE BROTHERS WERE COATING THEIR DICK IN ME, THEN FUCKING THE TWINKS. ON THE OTHER HAND, I WAS DRUGGED OUT ON ZOMBIE JUICE SO MAYBE IT WAS ONLY A FLY BUZZING BY MY HEAD AND I IMAGINED IT ALL. All the Brothers entered me, but only after El Dorado had prepped my hole with his golden meshed dick. Each of his strokes were etched in what had been the white covering of the altar, but that in my mind’s eye I saw now was stained like the fires of Hell. Bob was the last Brother to enter me and when he did there was something in his eyes - compassion? Desire? Loss? No sooner had El Dorado reprepped my hole than Father Adelmo was there, his golden robes gone, his naked chest glistening in sweat as he pummeled me and then exclaimed in holy ecstasy as he seeded me. Once the Father pulled out, El Dorado was back and this time with a vengeance. Golden claws pierced my flesh, spiked horns grew from his skull, and as El Dorado infected me anew with the CRF19 viral plague, he threw his head back and bellowed like the beast of Hell that he was. - The End - (*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 - Father Adelmo said I would be the sacrifice on the altar of man - for men - by men. What did he mean? Frankly I didn’t care as I was on the hunt for El Dorado - my destiny - the CRF19 virus - and as part of that journey had just spent the past few days in Miami being raped, fucked raw, and taking all sorts of nasty dick while snorting as much of the good Father’s ‘angel’ powder as I could. He said my future was to come back and live my final days at Casa des Santos. I was fine with that if he planned to keep me chemmed up and whored out and at the top of my list was going back to the ABS to get raped again by that nasty freak bugarrón who used my hole good. In the meantime, I was enjoying the cool breeze hitting my face as Bob and I bumped and jumped over the waves in the speedboat that was taking us out to meet the cargo ship. You see - they were smuggling me INTO Cuba. Crazy right? But that is where the CRF19 virus is rampant and I needed it, wanted it, it was my holy destiny. Bob - well technically he was one of a number of Brother Robertos that served the Father, but I called him Bob for short - had a jagged scar on his temple and I felt like we had ‘bonded’. True, he never really said much to me - if anything at all - but he had been my guide during my Miami depravity and now was my escort as I was smuggled out of the country. I was hustled to a low-rent marina, scrambled onto a low-slung speedboat that seemed like it might sink at any moment, and went barreling out into the open water, bumping over the waves and being baptized in salted spray. Some time later the dark hull of a large cargo ship loomed before us, its lights all but off, our pilot steering by the cast of the moon to find the swaying rope ladder hanging off the side. Angry words were exchanged in Spanish - well I guessed they were angry from the tone and once again cursed my short sightedness in realizing I was missing a lot of what was happening due to the language barrier. Under the cover of darkness, Bob and I were hustled aboard and stowed in a cramped, tiny room below deck. Within minutes of feeling the tremble of the engines reviving and getting underway, Bob got sea sick and started puking into the rusted metal bucket in the corner. I had to laugh and he was not amused. It was Bob’s turn to laugh when the crew master came down about an hour after we had gotten underway and he - and the rest of the men in need who had been at sea for weeks apparently and needed a fresh pussy ass to breed - fucked me one after the other. The cargo ship crew were eager to all slam fuck me raw and Bob just huddled in the corner -puking and smiling - as I begged to no avail for some white powder to snort in order to make their assault on my ass easier. I lost count of the number of men who bred me, but it was well over a dozen and yet I still wanted more. They were all quick fucks - nutt and bounce - and not a one of them challenged my hole or ass. My only hope was that some of them had some wild, exotic bug in which to infect me. I then fell asleep on the thin cot while Bob swayed in the chair in the corner, the metal bucket held to his chest as the roll of the seas continued to clean him out. I awoke a few hours later to a hard cuff to the head - Bob was standing over me, his dick out and raging, his palm piled with white powder, and an evil smile on his face. Clearly he was feeling better and had gotten his sea legs under him. I snorted, felt the welcome rush and burn, and sighed in pleasure as Bob started to pound my hole. That’s how the crew member found us when he brought us a meal - Bob balls deep in my ass. The tray with our bologna sandwiches was sat on the floor, the crew member tagged in, and Bob let him nutt my hole before he himself finished off inside me. I was ready to go back to sleep, but Bob pushed me off the cot so I had no choice but to curl up on the floor with just a backpack for a pillow. I desperately wanted to get out of the cabin but my hosts had made it clear with forceful gestures and by locking the door behind them, that Bob and I had to stay where we were. When Bob finally came to I was eager to get fucked again, but he just brushed me off, pulled a book out of his backpack, and started to read. I was so fucking bored! Finally the movement of the ship changed, new sounds could be heard, voices rang out in the corridor, Bob checked his watch, nodded, and packed up his things and said to me, “WELCOME TO CUBA - WE HAVE ARRIVED AT ENSENADA DE MARIMELENA.” I didn’t know if that was the city or what - and would later realize it was like the port section of Havana. Bob hefted his backpack over his shoulder, but not before handing me my ‘passport’ that had a small stack of U.S. $100 bills sticking out of it. Before we had left Miami Father Adelmo had explained, “You will have a passport that says you are Canadian. It will work for what we have planned, however if something goes wrong, the authorities in Cuba will be able to confirm it is not real and then - well let’s just say a Cuban jail is where you may spend your final days. You just follow Brother Roberto and do whatever he and anyone tells you, and all will be well my son.” Bob put his finger to his lips as a silent ‘shush’ order. A crew member came, we quickly made our way back out through the warren of the ship, up onto the dick, and I realized it was night. We had been at sea from dark to dark, although I had no idea the exact time as my watch, cell, and everything else had been left back in Miami. Bob huddled with someone near the rail of the ship. They exchanged a few, quiet words, a small stack of money was passed from Bob’s hands to the other’s with practiced ease and then Bob and I were surrounded by a couple guys front and back and were escorted down a wobbly gangplank and onto the dock below. From under the rim of my Marlin’s baseball cap - a gift from Bob - I could see we were in a port. There were trucks, cranes, some light, but not as much as I would have thought. At the bottom of the gangplank our group paused, a man in some sort of uniform looked us up and down, nodded, then turned and walked away. Bob and I were hustled to a large truck with wood railings, a tarp covering the top and most of the sides, and as we climbed up and bent forward I glanced back one last time wondering if I would make it home. For the first time I felt afraid - truly afraid - and stupid - but a rough shove and a few harsh words in Spanish made me move. Bob and I huddled at the front of the truck bed, boxes were placed between us and the back, someone banged the side of the truck and we started to move. Bob was cool, calm, and collected as the truck rumbled along. I had to ask myself, “Why was he here? What did he get out of this? Isn’t this an awful big risk for him too?” No sense asking Bob as I knew he would not answer. The sounds of the truck, port, and light traffic were the only sense I had of movement. While there were occasional flickers of light through the spaces between the tarp and the truck sides, we could not see anything, so I huddled close to Bob - silent and excited. The roads were bumpy; the exhaust from the truck muffler made the air gritty and foul, and my mind was whirling now with questions - where were we going, what was going to happen next, would I find El Dorado and the CRF19 virus? Some time later the truck slowed, Bob looked at me and pressed his finger to his lip again - ‘shush’ - and cocked his head as he leaned closer to the truck side while he listened. He nodded to himself, smiled, scooted forward a bit, and waited. The tailgate was unlatched, the truck body shifted as someone climbed up, boxes were moved and a small shaft of light pierced our hiding place. Bob jumped down, I followed, looked around, and we were parked behind a wooden building and the only light I could see was what came from the truck’s lights and the flashlight in the driver’s hand. The driver and Bob exchanged a few quiet words, Bob nodded, took the flashlight, grabbed my left arm and we started walking down a dirt road. I turned as the driver unlocked a door on the building and began pulling boxes off the truck. Only about 50 feet down the road Bob paused at a small, roadside shrine. It was white, about 3-feet high, with a few candle stubs in it. I had seen similar things in Mexico when I had spent a summer there, but there was usually a Virgin Mary statue too or something. Not here. Bob walked to the right of the shrine, and down an almost unseen path amidst the tall sugar cane field. He held the flashlight down so I had to look at the ground to make sure I did not fall or stumble. We walked for about 10 minutes and then I heard something - voices? Bob led us through a small copse of trees and into a break in the growth where outlined against the starry sky was a small building. Bob made his way to the door, knocked, paused, knocked again and waited. A lock was moved, the door slid silently open and a small candle flame flickered in the hand of the man who had opened the door. Bob spoke with him briefly, we were ushered in, the door closed and relocked. The flashlight in Bob’s hand made a loud CLICK as he turned it off. There was shuffling; the lone candle flame moved to our left, another was lit, then another, and more in turn. As the candles went up in flame I gasped a little and took a step back. The far wall was covered almost floor to ceiling with dozens of statues and small icons. Some dressed in robes and gold, others in tattered cloth. There were several tables around the edges of the room, all with half-melted candles, pictures, more statues, and other things I had no idea what they were. In the middle of the floor was a wooden table that had feathers, offal, and puddles of what looked like dried blood on the top, down the sides, and splattered on the ground around it. I’ve watched enough TV to realize this was some voodoo or Santeria set up and I took a step backwards towards the door. Bob grabbed my arm and squeezed hard - either in reassurance or warning - I was not sure. Either way I froze and watched as the man who had let us in continued to move around the room, but now he was humming and mumbling as he did so. The room was ablaze in candlelight now and the man now moved on to lighting herbs, incense, and bowls of what looked like potpourri. I was sweating profusely, and getting more nervous, but Bob’s tight grip kept me planted. The man then came and spoke with Bob, who handed his backpack to me with a “Don’t fucking move!” look, then he and the man hefted the wooden table that was in the middle of the room and carried it to a far corner. The man dug around a pile of things on a table, picked up what looked like a huge piece of white chalk, walked back to where the table was, and in a steady chant paced around the room five times, then walked back to the middle, took a stride forward, stopped, then bent over and began drawing. He drew the outline of a large triangle in the dirt, with some squiggly type lines in each corner. He appeared careful not to step inside the triangle, or touch the lines once drawn, and when completed, he then went to a cabinet, pulled out two handfuls of large, white and red pillar candles, and began carefully setting them into the dirt at various points around the outside of the triangle. He had to make several trips to the cabinet as he set a cluster of five red candles at each point. I was fidgety as hell now and started to ask Bob if I could go piss, but his silent ‘shush’ finger stopped me. The man then took off his shirt, took off his pants, and in just his underwear walked around the room a few more times chanting. He then grabbed a bottle off a table, took a mouthful, and spit it out in a spray. My eyes followed him as he did that in each corner of the room, towards each wall where the various statues and things were set, and then he walked toward us - stopped in front of Bob and spit the mist of liquid right into Bob’s face - took a swig - then spit into mine. I scrunched my eyes and forced myself not to flinch. It smelled like liquor and I reached up to wipe my eyes, but Bob slapped them away. Fuck. The man then went back to the table, poured several things into a plastic cup, walked back to us and handed it to me. I looked at the concoction - it was thick, milky white, and chunky looking. I questioningly looked at him, then Bob, with a, “You want me to drink this?” look. The man nodded, I took a sip, and wanted to retch. It tasted like sour yogurt and dirt and cow shit. I would have handed the cup back right then, but the look on both their faces told me I better not. I upended the cup and swallowed the contents and grimaced. The man took the cup and went back to his chanting. I felt flush - the room began to spin - I heard lots of voices, or animals, or was that music? I felt Bob’s hands holding me, his voice chanting softly in my ear, new voices were added, and as I slumped to the dirt floor more hands were on me as my eyes fluttered and the spinning grew fast and faster. My eyelids felt heavy, weighted, but with great concentration I was able to open them a sliver. I MIGHT HAVE SCREAMED OR RUN IF I COULD, BUT I WAS IMMOBILE. My mind demanded action, yet my body was stiff, unmoving, unfeeling, like I was a tree firmly rooted to the Earth. Angling my eyes right – the only part of my 200+ bones and 600+ muscles that seemed to respond - I could see the naked body of a man, his massive dick swaying in time to chanting, and as the crescendo of the voices peaked, he bent down to look at me and that’s when I tried to scream. He had a goat’s face with golden, spiked horns. The goat man moved, the chanting grew, I could see another man, another monster dick, and when he bent down to look at me it was a bull’s face with a thick, gold ring through his nose. No longer a man. I wanted to scream. The bull moved out of my sightline, the chanting grew louder and I could see another man, another giant dick with a deformed head, and when he bent down and looked at me it was a dog’s face with golden, yellow eyes. No longer a man. I wanted to scream. The dog moved out of my sightline, the chanting grew louder and I could see another man, another dick even larger than the others, and when he bent down and looked at me it was a horse’s face with golden teeth. No longer a man. I wanted to scream. The horse moved out of my sightline, the chanting echoed, changed pace, grew louder, faster, and louder still. I could see another man, another dick that put all the others to shame and it was ringed in gold, ridged, studded, the metal shining like a brilliant sun in the dim candle light. When he bent down and looked at me I wanted to sigh in relief - human - yet he was not a man. He was a fleshless, gold skull, a skeleton. I wanted to scream. Brother Roberto, a.k.a. Bob, was standing to the right of my head now. He was kneeling and crossing himself in prayer. His eyes were closed tight like he too was afraid of what I was seeing. Hooves and claws raked my flesh, the taste of bile and iron filled my mouth. There was a brilliant flash of light and then a scorching pain as my flesh was peeled back to allow entry by these men who would sacrifice my body - and theirs - to their zoolatry ritual. Was I floating off the ground? Was I on the table? My legs were raised back and up, but how? The goat man’s phallus pierced my ass and suddenly every nerve in my body was firing. Pain, fear, agony, ecstasy, all joined in chorus as the chanting suddenly grew distant and far aware. The penis felt much like the shape of man’s but bigger, firmer, sharper. The goat head got close to mine. Its eyes were totally black, as were its lips, which seemed to be moving. The hair was white, short, and matted and the golden horns glowed brighter as it fucked me. The harder it fucked, the more my sides hurt where it’s hooves dug in my white flesh. As he climaxed, the goat man threw his head back, bellowed a sound of primal release, then looked at me with now blood-red eyes, spat in my face, and as the last of his seed flooded my hole the goat head bent down and bit my flesh. The man bull’s head was so large I could see nothing else. His dick was bulbous on the end, and as inch after inch wound its way inside my guts I felt sure he would push through my back. The wide nostrils flared and the gold ring that pierced them caught clusters of snot as it dripped out if his nostrils with every grunt and thrust inside me. His hair was tawny brown, and the skin of his nose the blackest of black. The bellow he made when he released in my ass harmonized perfectly with the rising chants and splattered me with a mist of snot. Having filled me with his measure, the bull tilted his head; a blood-red eye seared my soul as his teeth found their mark. The dog man’s deformed head and knot stretched me wide, and kept inflating, and I thought me might never stop. His top lip curled up and down in time with the chanting and the strokes of his dick while his claws cut my flesh. The ears were laid back, the golden yellow eyes widened and focused then widened again as he yipped, snarled, and growled. The high-pitched howl he let loose when he filled me with cum pierced my eardrums like a nail and sounded in opposition to the symbiotic chants. His incisors also found their mark, drawing more of my life force out, which dripped to the packed earth below. The stallion’s penis was unbearably large, blunt, and where the dog man seemed to be content once his knot had entered, I was now a mare filled beyond a man’s measure as the flared head ripped my insides deeper and deeper. The dark black eyes, set against the lighter coal hair, were offset by the startling gold colored teeth, which snapped and clicked and clacked as the head swung side to side. When the stallion finally reared in carnal joy my abdomen swelled and the earth was marked anew as he finally withdrew, but not before ensnaring my flesh between his golden teeth. The chanting slowed, the volume turned down to hardly a whisper. My vision was clouded further as the smoky haze in the room thickened and swirled like the birth of cyclone. THE GOLDEN SKULL HUNG IN THE AIR OVER ME, DISEMBODIED, SOLITARY, AND ADRIFT IN A PLANE OF THE DYING. The bonds that held me firm constricted, it was hard to breath, and with barely any movement, the golden skull extended his primal force, his golden spiked and ridged dick finding my already brutalized hole, and he entered in one stroke. My internal organs shut down. My body faced death - inside and out. My ass was stretched wider, gaped, explored impossibly deeper and shredded by the golden teeth that on the skull head did not move; yet inside me they chewed, gnawed, and consumed my flesh. Had I died? Was I in hell? No, it felt too good for that. The golden skull’s dick fucked me deep - raw - hard - rough. My body was at his mercy, and no mercy was given. I would have smiled if I could have. A voice resonated then through my body, my bones themselves vibrating with the timber of the baritone chords, “Death stroke requires blood.” What the fuck did that mean? I didn’t have time to ponder, as the next thing I remember is asking myself why was Bob angry? I could hear it in his voice. Who was grabbing me? What was going on? My mind raced in a sprint, flooded by flashes of the past - what had it been? Hours, minutes, days? I didn’t know, but still, my body did not move to my neural commands. Why was I paralyzed still? I gurgled as liquid was poured down my throat and reflexively swallowed. Bob was still angry. Firm hands lifted me, jostled me, I felt like I was in a tilt-a-whirl at the county fair, and faster and faster I spun until...the next thing I remember was the taste of that foul drink I had taken before - the same rotten yogurt shit. UGH! More firm hands, more jostling, more of Bob’s angry voice. In the dim light I could see the pinky finger on my left hand. It felt like a mountain was on me, yet I knew that was silly. The tip of my pinky twitched and I was elated. I was alive. I could move. OK, well not MOVE move, but neurons were firing and my body was reacting. I tried to roll over, but the pressing body held firm, embedded inside me, his dick hooked in my ass like a lure to a trout. Bob kneeled by my head, he rubbed my cheek, smiled and said, “WE ARE GOING HOME.” HE PAUSED, NODDED TOWARDS THE MAN ON MY BACK WHO WAS BURIED IN MY ASS AND WHISPERED IN HOLY WONDER, "USTED ENCONTRÓ EL DORADO" - TRANSLATION - “YOU FOUND EL DORADO.” THE ANGEL OF DEATH HAD WRAPPED ME IN HIS WINGS. Stay Tuned for Part 5- (*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: Father Adelmo said, “Tonight, you will go with Brother Roberto and will sell these to my people in need. I also must see how far you are willing to go to obtain the CRF19 virus. Yes, I praise you for today’s service, but there is more you must do.” He tapped the partially empty baggy of white powder and said, “THIS IS A NECESSARY EVIL AND ONE THAT ALLOWS ME TO DO ALL THE GOOD WORKS I SHARED WITH YOU AND MANY MORE. THOSE WHO PARTAKE ARE LOST - FOR NOW AT LEAST - AND TONIGHT SO SHALL YOU BE. A LOST SOUL, AN EMPY HUSK – A BODY THAT EXISTS ONLY FOR THE PLEASURE OF THE DOWN, OUT, DRUG ADDLED, AND DISEASE RIDDEN. YOU MUST PAY THE PRICE TO REACH EL DORADO, TO FIND THE ONE YOU SEEK, TO BECOME THE SACRIFICE ON THE ALTAR OF MAN - FOR MEN - BY MEN.” I turned as Bob held out his open palm that now had small mounds of white powder on it. He smiled as I took the rolled up bill he offered and snorted and I could tell he was thinking, “That’s it slut - be that good drug whore - I can’t wait to fuck that ass some more!” I shook the burn from my head as the powder slid through my nose, down my throat and hit my bloodstream. Father Adelmo smiled and said, “May you taste the plagues of man tonight and may the angel of death ride on your shoulder as you seek and chase and corrupt those before you.” Didn’t this guy ever just speak in plain English? Why all the riddles? If you want me to go find some buggy dick just say so. Father Adelmo was now focused on other things as Bob cuffed my head to get me to focus then pushed me back out the way we came with a stop at the dirty little restroom on the way. One thing about chems, a good hit and one visit and my guts are clean as a whistle for fucking hours and hours. Before we exited the warehouse Bob stopped, hefted his t-shirt, pulled a pistol out of his pant’s waistband, checked the chamber, slid it back, then methodically checked the contents of the rest of his pockets and the small backpack he was carrying that was our stash. The way he did all this - with efficient, precise movements - made me suddenly think ‘military’. One more mystery to solve about Bob. Bob was a man on a mission and we had gone only a few blocks when he positioned himself at the end of an alley; his back against the corner of the building as his head swept side to side. A couple of cars passed, then Bob turned and walked down the alley and cut right into a small courtyard area formed by the back of a building. It was a warm night but there were a couple of small fires, mostly in cans, for illumination I guess as the sole street light in the alley had been busted. Eyes filled with sadness, pain, and misery turned at our approach; bodies tensed, hands grabbed the nearest bit of debris to use as a weapon if needed. Bob stopped and when I stopped too and looked at him he positioned the backpack on his shoulder, reached down, unbuttoned my blood red pants, then cuffed me so I would lean forward. He then opened a baggy, coated two fingers, and began roughly finger fucking me and slicking my hole with chems. My yelps of pain as he dug his nails into me, and the burn of the powder, gathered a crowd. Bob pulled his fingers out, I heard him lick them clean, and I turned and saw him hold up a small clump of baggies as he said, “IN THE NAME OF THE FATHER.” That must have been code for ‘fuck the chem slut’ as within seconds I had a rank BBC dick in my mouth and an anonymous dick was trying to find my hole. Took him a second to get his floppy dick up, but once he did he started bragging, “Wet white pussy guys. Shit, makes my dick burn! You think the blow will hurt those sores I got on my dick? Fuck hell - who cares right. How much of that we get?” The BBC in my mouth held my head, grunted, and fed me a load of cottage cheese. He stepped back, Bob handed him a baggy, “IN THE NAME OF THE FATHER,” and another guy took his place. Almost simultaneously the dick in my mouth and the one in my ass both cummed and withdrew and the guys shuffled off with payment for the fruit of their loins. Bob helped me stand up, I reached for a baggy, he cuffed my head and frowned, so I pulled my pants up. I almost jumped out of my skin when Bob then flashed a small pen light on and ran it up and down my pant legs, spit on a finger, wiped some dirt off the side, and totally ignored the few complaints from the Hell hound denizens of the courtyard. Satisfied, Bob led me back out to the streets and as we hustled down the blocks he would stop - to me seemingly randomly - hand one of the baggies of white powder with the angel mark on it to someone and say, “IN THE NAME OF THE FATHER.” Sometimes they had cash ready, which Bob deftly pocketed. Other times it did not look like they paid at all and I was having a hard time figuring out what the deal was. Our next stop was a little convenience store, or at least that’s what the front part was. We walked straight to the back, through a door, and then it was like a mini Adult Book Store (ABS) with a couple of booths, vids playing, guys getting sucked, and more. Bob continued on through the next door and we were met by a big bouncer looking dude holding a pistol. Shit! Bob held out a baggy, “IN THE NAME OF THE FATHER.” The bouncer opened the door behind him and the next room was stacked with boxes and shit and had a small table crammed in the middle that four guys were sitting around playing cards, smoking cigars, and drinking. Fuck I hate the smell of cigars. How can folks smoke that shit? Words were briefly exchanged, all in Spanish so I had no idea what was said beyond once again recognizing the word ‘puta’. I guessed that was my cue so I unbuttoned my pants, the four men slid their chairs back, baggies were tossed on the table and quickly snatched as Bob cuffed my head and I bent over the table. Once again my hole was stuffed with white powder and slicked up with spit and raw dick as one after the other of the four men fucked me. The first three were quick and not that big, but the fourth - damn! Even drugged up I cried out as he pushed into me. He was fucking thick and my ass ring stretched and relaxed and stretched some more and then he was off. He fucked rough and brutal and I cried out, “YEAH FUCK ME LIKE A PRISON BITCH! POZ MY ASS! INFECT ME MAN!” Well, that must have been the Jeopardy phrase of the day because that mother-fucker went to town. “La papaya trying to get rape fucked huh? Eager for el bruto’s dick? Make that shit bleed good like a drive by. Hmmm…” The table kept skidding across the floor with every thrust until that dick had me - and it - jammed and stuffed to the max. After we left I told Bob I needed a break and had to use the restroom. He reached into his backpack and pulled out a small bottle of water then escorted me to another alley and pointed. Fine. Treat me like a poodle bitch. So I popped a squat and let my guts loose. While I didn’t have to ‘go-go’ all that cum and being stretched was just uncomfortable. I don’t care what tops think - you try to open your hole up, take all that dick, and get filled with cum and whatever and you try to hold it in. It ain’t healthy man - although I guess maybe that’s the point. One must suffer to face divinity. Bob parked himself at another corner, pulled out a cell phone and typed a text. He stuck the phone in his pocket and closed his eyes like he was fucking napping while totally ignoring me, my questions, and the rest of the fucking world. A few minutes later I heard a deep rumble. Bob opened his eyes, stood up straight, and a bright, red convertible careened around the corner, and drove slightly past us until the driver slammed on the brakes. The car went into reverse, came to a jarring stop, and the driver turned, laid his right arm on the back of the seat and said, “Hola.” Bob walked around the back of the car to the driver’s side door and bent over and spoke with the owner. I stepped closer. They were speaking in Spanish so once again I was clueless as to what was being said. Nice car, red outside, black leather seats, looked like a classic that was restored to pristine condition. The driver was Latin. Tall, well-defined body, white pants and a red silk shirt open to his waist. He had a pair of gold-rimmed sunglasses on his head, even though it was dark out and gold rings on both hands and a gold watch that he was tapping against the steering wheel as Bob spoke. The car engine revved, Bob stepped away, the car drove off and turned a corner and Bob began walking after it. I hustled to catch up, and two streets over I saw the glimmer of the red hood peeking out of a dark alley. Bob cuffed my head. I stepped into the darkness, and saw the outline of the driver leaning against the wall, muttering to himself. Bob shined his penlight. The driver’s white pants were unzipped and the biggest dick I had seen yet in Miami was being beat hard. It was super thick, long, uncut, but what made me gasp was how it looked - it was riddled with boils and pestilence and even from where I was standing I could smell the reek of gangrene or death. Bob cuffed me, I started to object, so he cuffed me harder then opened a baggy, let me snort my fill, and proceeded to coat my ass pucker and waited. The driver of the convertible was still mumbling to himself and jacking his dick and I was not sure he was aware we were event there until Bob said, “IN THE NAME OF THE FATHER.” The puss filled dick was hard and ready and the driver’s eyes were now open as he stepped away from the wall, pushed me against his car and rammed his diseased dick inside me. The biblical Plagues of Egypt entered my body all at one - entombed as they were in this shaft of destruction - this Latin death stick. I was repulsed and hornier than I had ever been at the same time and pushed my ass back. I wanted him to rip me open, to fuck me, to rape me, to infect me - but hell I needed some more drugs first. I tried to push him off me with no luck but good old Bob knew and reached around, held out his palm full of chems and said, “IN THE NAME OF THE FATHER.” My ass was bloody, ripped, raw, and full of diseased cum and drugs and I was the happiest I could ever remember being! Even Bob had some pep in his step as he handed out the last of his baggies then as we hustled our way back to the warehouse he stopped me at a little corner park, yanked my pants down, slammed me raw against a bench, and yelled “OH DOS MIOS!” as he blew a load into my used man pussy just as an older man walked by with his little dog on a leash. The next day was an ongoing orgy of drugs, dick, life and death all hanging in the balance. When I confessed my sins in to Father Adelmo in the morning, he smiled and said, “That is good my son. The body must be worn down, weak, and destroyed to receive the gift of the CRF19 virus.” The good Father and the Brothers Roberto then anointed me again, over and over, with their holy oils and bodily fluids. That night I followed Bob as he made his rounds passing out the little baggies full of drugs all marked with the angel symbol. I sucked a couple guys, got fucked by a couple, but then he led me into an ABS that was filthier than some of the alleys. The volume of the generic music coming out of the yard sale speakers was extremely loud and clashed with the volume of all the porn playing in the booths, which appeared to be set at MAX on every one. I guess you didn’t need tokens in this place. The hallway we entered was long, dark, covered in dried piss, cum, and littered with old condoms, needles, crusted paper towels, and more. There was even a homeless guy passed out on the floor that the patrons had just shoved to the side against the wall so they could walk past him. Bob made his way to back end of the hall, turned right, and there under the dim light of the EXIT sign three very rough looking dudes were standing, smoking, chatting. They turned, smiled, and greeted Bob warmly before their eyes settled on me - all hungry, feral, and trying to decide if they wanted to fight me or fuck me. “You hungry for some bugarrón pinga?” the tallest of the three dudes said as he stepped past Bob and grabbed my wrist with his muscular, tatted up left hand and arm. I tried to take a step back and he laughed, yanked me closer, “That ass trying to do battle with some big dick? You ever been invaded by three rough el matón?” In answer Bob stepped close, waved a small fist full of baggies and said, “In the name of the Father.” The baggies were snatched, powder snorted, and in no time flat I was buck ass naked in the ABS hallway with a bugarrón muffling my yelps of pain with his big right hand while jamming powder coated fingers up my nose. One of his thug buddies was raping me dry, raw, and brutal as Bob stood to the side, casually checking his phone. I expected our action would draw a crowd, but anytime I looked to where the hallways met no one was there. I guess those straight thugs I was serving had a reputation of ‘keep the fuck out of our business’. Fine by me. “Open that bitch hole up,” the second bugarrón said as he dug his fingers in my just nutted ass. “Damn fag you can take some dick. Let’s see what skills you got when that pussy on fire from this good angel mix.” I moaned in pain as he now worked in a coating of drugs from the baggies Bob had handed out and my squirming only turned my assailant on more. This time I was bent over and my mouth and throat stuffed with expired sausage as my ass was stretched, stuffed, and renovated. The third guy, who might have been the shortest - yet still taller than me - had the longest dick of the three. He laid me on my back on the dirty hallway floor, “I like seeing a bitch’s eyes roll back when I bottom out,” he explained. He pinned my legs back, angled his dick, “Ready?” then laughed as he slammed in and I gasped and squirmed. He made no effort to go straight in, but focused on hitting me at an angle and scraping my walls as he slid down my chute. His rolls of foreskin felt amazing as they slid back and forth over his shaft, massaging my innards. I would have begged for it or pleaded, but he was slamming me so hard into the floor all I could do was grunt as the breath was pounded from my lungs with each drop of his body onto mine. “HERE COMES MY FUCKING LOAD BITCH - YOU READY TO GET BOTTOMED OUT? READY TO GET A HARDCORE DICK DOWN? OPEN THAT FUCKING CUNT - OPEN IT - OPEN - IT - FUCK YEAH - YOUR EYES ROLLING BACK NOW BITCH - DUMB CUNT - DUMB - OH SHIT - FILLING YOU UP!” The guy pulled out, stood up, shook the sweat from his face, grabbed a baggy and snorted as I stayed on the floor trying to catch my breath. He kicked me, “Stand and up and bend over, let me admire my handiwork masterpiece.” My legs were cramped, but I did, and felt a stream of nutt start flowing down my backside. He slapped my ass, “Fuck guys look at that gaping hole - twitching. You need it filled some more? Need some more strokes to paint that hole right? Hungry el maricón!” I grabbed my pants figuring we were done but the bugarrón who had just loaded me slapped my face, pushed me against the wall with his hand to my throat, his eyes wild. “Where you going off to? I ain’t done. They might be dry but my dick still dripping and I want to fuck that pussy while I watch my favorite titty flick as I get my nympho fuck on.” I was still naked as the straight, Latin thug pushed me down the hall, past a couple of gawkers who quickly scurried away. He shoved me into a booth, slid the latch on the door to lock it, pushed me roughly to the side as he hit the button on the wall and started flipping through movies until he found the one he wanted. “Shit gets me hard every time,” he said as I glanced at his vid of choice. He then grabbed me with both hands, pulled me close, bent his head down and while holding me in a death grip he started biting my nipples as hard as he could and moaning and groaning as he turned them to hamburger. I tried to pull away and he just backed me against the wall, body pinning me as he slurped, chewed, bit, and abused my chest. “Rape me and give me some more salsa,” I gasped. The Latin thug paused, raised his head, grabbed my skull with both hands and while looking at me spit in my face and said, “Oh yeah?” His arm came up, the forearm now over my throat as he pinned me and started biting my nipples intent on drawing red. Once he did, he looked at me, licked his lips, gripped my throat in his left hand and squeezed while with his right he shoved three fingers between my legs, found my ass, and started clawing, digging, and trying to get his hand in further. I inched up on my tippy toes and he smiled and pushed and clawed harder. He kept glancing at the porn on the screen, his eyes wide, his lips curved in a sinister smile. He then looked at me, held his right hand in position wedged in my hole, removed his left arm from my neck and gave me a hard slap on the face. I yelped and reflex brought my right arm up to touch my reddening check. “NO!” he yelled at me as he pointed a finger at the tip of my nose, then as I lowered my hand he slapped me again, then added a backhand as I turned the other cheek. Another glance at the vid, his sneer grew larger, then looking at me - SLAP SLAP - as his fingers dug deeper into my gut lining. “This is my favorite part,” the bugarrón said as he yanked his hand out of my shredded hole, turned me towards the wall, put a death grip/choke hold with his hands around my throat and drove his eager dick back into my hungry ass. I tried to tell him again to rape me - not like he wasn’t already, but you know, being in the moment and all wanted to let him know I wanted it. “Shhh bitch - I know,” he said, “I know.” He then spit on the back of my head, squeezed my neck tighter in his hands, and bent me forward a little so he could angle his dick in my ass deeper with each thrust. I focused on breathing through my nose, and relaxing my hole. He kept squeezing and pounding – tighter and harder and as the edges of my vision began to turn black his pace picked up, his fingers pushed, and my line of sight became a small tunnel of light. Right as the end of the tunnel seemed a step away, my Latin rapist released my neck. I was flooded with fresh air and stimuli and he reached around my body, grabbed by bitten nipples, squeezed them as hard as he could while planting his teeth into the left side of my neck right above where it meets the collarbone where he bit down hard. I GASPED AS HE CRUCIFIED MY BODY FOR HIS GLORY AND FILLED ME WITH HIS SEED. Finally spent, the bugarrón unlatched the door, stepped out and said to Bob who was calmly standing there with my clothes in hands in a pile, “Bring this one back.” I could tell Bob was pleased, but he just smiled as I got dressed and before we left he opened a baggy for me and let me snort out. As I shook the burn from my head and stretched, Bob caught sight of the bruises forming on my neck, and the red depths of the orgasmic bite. Without a word Bob used his left hand to pry my head to the side and latched his mouth onto the mark ensuring it would show for days to come. Once we left the ABS, I knew what I wanted - the guy in the convertible. When I told him, Bob smiled, got on his phone and as we walked, he handed out the baggies of drugs with the angel mark, saying to each parishioner in turn, “IN THE NAME OF THE FATHER.” Back at the same alley as the night before I froze when my plague carrying trade came into view. The guy was leaning against the wall again but his festering dick was already occupied by some little twink on his knees slurping it like a snow cone. Bob cleared his throat; the guy saw us, smacked the kid’s head and said something to him then kicked at him to enforce the point. The kid mouthed back, Bob stepped forward and handed him a baggy, “IN THE NAME OF THE FATHER.” The kid shrugged and scurried out of the alley. “Ready to breed some juicy ass? Jizz my pussy?” I asked. In no time flat I was on my hands and knees in the alley with that festering dick slamming as deep as he could go. My knees were being scraped, my palms were getting scratched up, but I didn’t care, I just needed that disease riddled dick to push all that buggarónes cum deeper then send me into religious ecstasy as he impregnated me with his own. The next morning, Bob met me at my little monk cell and instead of going to the confessional, led me outside, down the sidewalk, and to a house on a quiet neighborhood street. Father Adelmo met us on the porch, put his arm around my shoulder, and once we were inside I kneeled on the floor in front of him and bowed my head. He set the palms of his hands on my scalp in blessing and praise for my lecherous work and as I looked up into his eyes he said, “Welcome to Casa des Santos - the house of the saints - the hospice my charity work funds. And this - this room here to the right with a view of the garden, will be your room – a place of honor.” I was confused, and looked at him quizzically, “My room?” Father Adelmo furrowed his brow, pursed his lips at my ignorance and said, “Why yes my son. I assure you - you will find El Dorado and you WILL be infected with the CRF19 virus, but then what? Where will you go? You will have a place here and in that time I will ensure you are blessed and anointed more than you can handle as you share your new gifts with my flock.” I was trying to take that in when the Father added, “Now. You must go and pack. The boat leaves tonight and tomorrow night - yes tomorrow night - you shall find what you seek in Cuba. Your body has been destroyed, your soul is secure, your holy mission awaits. El Dorado shall fill you with his immaculate seed and with your body blossoming with the last of his life, you shall return here. You will have all you could desire as you share your gift.” In closing, he held out an extra large bag of white powder, “IN MY NAME YOU ARE THE SACRIFICE ON THE ALTAR OF MAN - FOR MEN - BY MEN.” 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: The thick wood wall held firm as Brother Roberto slammed his 10-inch dick through the velvet-covered hole and into my ass raw. I was happy to take whatever penance he offered as long as it got me closer to my goal - closer to the bug - closer to CRF19. I snorted two big lines off the golden platter and once I did, Father Adelmo stuck the end of his uncut Cuban dick back into my mouth and started chanting, “JOIN THE HOLY UNION. BE ONE WITH THE BODY. JOIN THE HOLY UNION. BE ONE WITH THE BODY.” The chanting picked up in tempo and volume as Father Adelmo pumped my throat and one of the Brother’s banged my ass. “TASTE OF MY BODY - TASTE OF MY BLOOD - TASTE OF MY SPIRIT!” the Father yelled as he stiffened, clutched the carved finials of the confessional window and grunted in unison as the good Brother swelled and flooded me at the other end. I tilted my head slightly up, which made Father Adelmo’s dick spurt his last drops onto the roof of my mouth. His head was thrown back in righteous ecstasy, the cords on his neck straining as I gave him a holy vision and swallowed his sacred seed. Finally spent, Father Adelmo relaxed, exhaled, looked down at me and set his hands on top of my head in blessing and thanks before easing his now semi-hard dick from my hungry gullet. Brother Roberto was not so kind and pulled out of my freshly fucked hole in one jerk, making me gasp. As the Brother’s seed settled in, Father Adelmo stepped out of the confessional, my curtain was pulled back, and Bob was there to help me stand. I was disappointed as I was hoping he had been the one fucking me, but when the curtain pulled back and another Brother stepped out, all I could think of was how to get more of dick back in my hole so I could turn it from pink and white to red and white - cherry vanilla swirl. Father Adelmo settled himself in a high-backed, ornate chair, as a Brother held the platter out for him to snort from, another set a crystal glass full of a burgundy liquid to his side, and a third handed him a long braided cord heavy with golden beads. Bob - the Brother Roberto with the jagged scar on his temple - pushed me forward and motioned for me to kneel on a plush pillow by the Father’s seat. I tried to sit back, but was kicked, so back on my knees I arched my back, stretched, and was rewarded with another dip at the plate of white manna to snort. FUCK! Each hit burned more and more, but the shit was good whatever it was and the more I snorted, the more surreal the situation became and I chuckled a bit. The ornate plush room, in some warehouse type building, surrounded by guys who now - more so being high - all looked like clones - serving a twisted pig of a Padre. Damn! The golden beads on the braided cord made a soft, rhythmic noise as Father Adelmo ran the cord between the thumb and fingers of his left hand. He seemed lost in thought now and no one spoke a word. He snorted from the platter, a Brother carefully wiped the excess from his right nostril, then with pupils wide the Father turned to me and said - as if we had been in the middle of a conversation all along, “The CRF19 virus responds to antiviral treatment. But due to its fast progression rate, those who are diagnosed are done so too late for the therapy to work and their immune systems are unable to recover.” My dick twitched and I moaned. The Father went on, “While my sources inform me the strain has now reached epidemic proportions in Cuba, so far, it has not spread outside Cuba, with the exception of a few rare cases.” There was another pause as Father Adelmo snorted some more, the platter was held out for me and when I only snorted two lines, I was cuffed up side the head by Bob, so I snorted two more. Bob set his hand on my left shoulder in firm approval and squeezed. Father Adelmo titled his head, leaned forward, held my chin up with his right hand so that I could stare into the depths of his brown eyes and asked, “Are you willing to be the lamb that brings CRF19 back to my children?” I nodded, Father Adelmo smiled, and suddenly the room was full of motion and energy. My head was released, Father Adelmos leaned back in the chair, two of the Brothers Roberto stood side by side in front of me - one roughly grabbing my left wrist as the other wrapped a length of golden silk around it then holding the free end yanked my arm out to the side. My other wrist was done in turn and together; the Brother’s pulled me forward. I tried to stumble, but fell flat onto the carpeted floor and as I did, each ankle was grabbed and also wrapped and then pulled and soon as I lying flat with a Brother kneeling by each of my hands, the golden cloth wrapped around their fists, tying us together like a shepherd and a wayward sheep. My legs were splayed; Father Adelmo stood over my head, bent forward, and slid his braided cord of beads under my neck, looped it, and pulled. I choked and sputtered and he pulled harder. While Father Adelmo was literally yanking my chain, a hard body lay on my naked back and a thick dick punctured my rectum anew. Being held down and throttled left me little choice but to take the dick that started to slowly push in, pull out, push back in. I then heard a loud snort above me and Father Adelmo began to chant, “TAKE THE BLESSING OF THE SEED. TAKE YOUR DELIVERANCE. I BLESS YOU MY SON. LET ME ABSOLVE YOU OF YOUR PAST LIFE AND ANOINT YOU FOR THE LIFE TO COME. THAT STARTS NOW. HERE AS I MARK YOU AS THE LAMB.” The thrusting in my ass paused, the cloth bindings pulled taught, Father Adelmo kneeled by my side-turned head and I felt a sharp slicing in first my left, then my right shoulder, followed by him rubbing his finger over each wound as he said, “BLOOD TO BLOOD UPON THE ALTAR OF MEN, SO SHALL YOU BE MARKED. ANOINTED. BAPTIZED BY ALL HE WHO COMES FORTH!” The man inside me started slam fucking hard, deep, fast, and the only sound he made as he filled with me his seed was a soft grunt. He immediately withdrew, there was a few seconds of shuffling as the cloth binding on my right ankle was shifted, then someone else lay on my back and they too began to fuck. Father Adelmo had stood back up, snorted, and continued to chant, “TAKE THE BLESSING OF THE SEED. TAKE YOUR DELIVERANCE. I BLESS YOU MY SON. LET ME ABSOLVE YOU OF YOUR PAST LIFE AND ANOINT YOU FOR THE LIFE TO COME.” The man in my ass filled me with sperm, more shifting, another big dick and I grunted as this one was a bit thicker, but they were all long - holy hell where did he find these men? I just took at least 30 inches and was there more coming? Apparently yes. “TAKE THE BLESSING OF THE SEED. TAKE YOUR DELIVERANCE. I BLESS YOU MY SON. LET ME ABSOLVE YOU OF YOUR PAST LIFE AND ANOINT YOU FOR THE LIFE TO COME.” The chant continued to ring and resound as one after another the five Brothers in the room shifted positions in turn and each fucked me raw, and filled my ass with their gifts. I don’t think any of them had nutted in a long time as not only did I feel the cum flow from my hole, but they came awful quick. This was not about enjoyment; it was about service and duty. Brother number five was getting ready to unleash his contribution inside me when Father Adelmo’s voice grew louder, “I BAPTIZE YOU - I BAPTIZE YOU - I BAPTIZE YOU.” the Brother filled me up and pulled out of my ass and within seconds as the Father yelled “I BAPTIZE YOU!” I felt a hot spray of cum blast from the Father’s dick as he jacked off standing over me, coating my shoulder wounds, my back, the side of my face. He then took a step back, straddled me once more, and I felt the powder of his chemical storm sprinkled over me and then the golden platter was dropped to the floor and discarded, no longer needed. It was snowing in Magic City - a chemical fallout. My wrists and ankles were released. Hot hands pressed my flesh, mouths and tongues found the chemical adornment the Father had dumped on my naked and used body, and as the Brothers slurped it up, they mixed the white powder in with the Father’s cum. It tickled, and I was jealous, and I was begging for someone to fuck me! Someone - I’m convinced it was Bob as he seemed to enjoy doing so - cuffed my head so I shut up and the Brothers finished licking, snorting, and using my sacrificed body as a drug buffet. All restraints released I got my wish as the drugged up Brothers were horny and ready for round two, three, and four. I was hefted onto my hands and knees as one stuffed my mouth and another slammed his dick balls deep as he squatted behind me and pounded my wet sloppy hole. Rough fingers coated my nostrils, my ass burned from more chems shoved into my fuck chute. I was baptized, anointed, and made sacred over and over by their DNA. Some hours later Bob helped me up after I had been basted with Cuban cum like a Christmas turkey. He ushered me into a small room that had just a cot, washbasin, and a set of dark red, almost black clothes. Not black like the Brothers, but dark blood red like death. One of the young twinks from the chapel - now dressed in crisp whites and holding his head down in deference - brought in a small plate of food. When I asked him about the clothes he did not explain the whites but said, “The Brothers serve HIM! The Brothers are holy. They wear only black as a symbol of death and mourning for the lives we all lived and those that will be lost.” OK - yeah these fuckers were bat shit crazy, but hey, the dick was good so what did I care, right Dusk was slow to descend on the city, but as it did, Bob led me out of my monk cell to meet Father Adelmo who was confidently standing by the front door, his dark gray shirt buttoned all the way up. He smiled as I approached, nodded, and as he led me outside and walked me down the sidewalk, the Father spoke about his good works from the soup kitchens, to the hospice, to the daycare center and home for unwed mothers, and more. The people of the neighborhood all waved, smiled, and shouted greetings, praises, and honorifics as our entourage strolled by - the Father, me, and a horde of Brother Robertos. I tried asking the Father when I would get to go to Cuba, how I would get there, what would happen then, and more, and with each question he shushed me and gave a dismissive little wave. Fuck - like I was a child! I had come all the way to Miami, had let him and his goon squad drug me up, fuck me, breed me (well OK, I DID like that), but still. The least he could do was give me answers. I huffed and was set to start another round of questions when Father Adelmo stopped by a cinder-block warehouse, a Brother slid back the large door, and Father said, “Peace my son. Brother Roberto will guide you and it will take a few days to make all the arrangements - that is if you have the money? You do? Good. Go and get it and return here. Brother Roberto will accompany you.” Father Adelmo then stepped into the darkness of the warehouse while Bob cuffed me and guided me down the sidewalk in the direction of my hotel. Wait, how did he know exactly where I was staying? In my hotel Bob wasted no time forcefully pulling my issued pants down, mounting my hole raw, and soiling the clean sheets on the bed. I like a top who is verbal - he was not - but that big dick still felt great as he slammed me and so I begged for him to breed me. Clearly he’s a freaky fuck as he yanked his dick out, pulled a baggy of white powder from his pocket, and as I laid on my back with my legs up I watched as he licked his finger, coated it good, then proceed to finger fuck me and bump me higher. I was in heat and begged and pleaded and swore and prayed until Bob anointed me with some more of his seed. That finished, I opened the safe, got the cash I brought, Bob packed it into a backpack that he slung over his left shoulder, and we started back towards the warehouse. I was hyped and chatty, yet Bob deflected all my questions about the good Father with silence. Well the Brother Robertos/”Bob” might have taken a vow of silence but as I felt his cum leak from my ass I chuckled knowing celibacy or abstinence from drugs were not in his set of solemn promises. Even when I begged, “Please let me sin again and make me repent - right here in this alley,” Bob just looked at me all stone faced and silent and pushed me along. Damn him to hell! Back at the warehouse, Bob led me through the large door, into the dark cavern, past two Brothers standing guard with automatic rifles. Shit that was new. We followed the echoing voices, turned a corner and came into a room with a long, wooden table and a number of people hustling and bustling about. Father Adelmo was at the far end, he paused his conversation, waved us over, looked in the backpack fingered the stacks of cash, smiled, and nodded. Bob stepped away and left the room so I looked around. The dim bare bulbs dangling from the ceiling, swaying in the currents of air created by large fans hanging from the rafters, let me see that there were more men with guns coming and going and two others hunched over the table cutting open blue plastic bricks and dumping out packets of white powder. I squinted and realized the men with guns - in jeans, t-shirts, and caps, were Brothers Roberto. They had changed clothes. The men at the table sorting the baggies of powder were Brothers too and one of them looked up, winked, then went back to work. My ass twitched. I went to step closer, but someone put a hand on my shoulder to stop me. I turned, it was Bob, and he too had changed and had added a Miami Marlins baseball cap to his ensemble. Father Adelmo then walked over to me, handed me a baggy, and I turned it over to see the little symbol stamped in black on the back - an angel. Father Adelmo opened the baggy, poured some in his hand and held it up for me to snort. Christ that burned and I swayed, he laughed and Bob steadied me. I shook my head to clear my mind and the Father said, “Tonight, you will go with Brother Roberto and will sell these to my people in need. I also must see how far you are willing to go to obtain the CRF19 virus. Yes, I praise you for today’s service, but there is more you must do.” He tapped the partially empty baggy and said, “THIS IS A NECESSARY EVIL AND ONE THAT ALLOWS ME TO DO ALL THE GOOD WORKS I SHARED WITH YOU AND MANY MORE. THOSE WHO PARTAKE ARE LOST - FOR NOW AT LEAST - AND TONIGHT SO SHALL YOU BE. A LOST SOUL, A BODY WITH NO SOUL THAT EXISTS ONLY FOR THE PLEASURE OF THE DOWN, OUT, DRUG ADDLED, AND DISEASE RIDDEN. YOU MUST PAY THE PRICE TO REACH EL DORADO, TO FIND THE ONE YOU SEEK, TO BECOME THE SACRIFICE ON THE ALTAR OF MAN - FOR MEN - BY MEN.” (*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!)

“Forgive me Father, for I have sinned,” I gasped as the thick uncut dick pushed through the gloryhole cut into the wood of the confessional, then through my outer ass ring. “You have not sinned yet my son,” Father Adelmo said, “But I see from the arch of your back that you are about to. Here, snort this white manna, feel the burn, and let Brother Roberto give you your penance.” The legend of El Dorado - originally El Hombre Dorado (the golden man) - changed over time and went from being a man, to a city, to a kingdom, and then finally an empire. Yet here I was, on the outskirts of Miami, seeking a way to my El Dorado, my golden man, the man who could infect me with CRF19 - the most virulent strain of AIDs in the Western Hemisphere. The thick wood wall held firm as Brother Roberto slammed his 10-inch dick through the velvet covered hole and into my ass raw. I was happy to take whatever penance he offered as long as it got me closer to my goal - closer to the bug - closer to CRF19. My journey began in 2015 when the United States and Cuba restored diplomatic relations after 50 odd years of being enemies. Soon after the doors had reopened between our two countries, reports started appearing on some of the fringe news sites of a dark virus. ‘CUBAN DEATH MARCH’, ‘COMMUNIST PLAGUE’, ‘AMERICA AT RISK FROM VIRAL ATTACK - FIDEL’S LAST TRY’, and more. By the time some of the mainstream news and government sources reported the information, the headlines were not quite so inflammatory, but gave me a fucking hard on nonetheless. CRF19 was an aggressive strain of AIDs so far only found in Cuba. No one knows why exactly yet and just fucking Google if you want to read the conspiracy theories from it's a legacy of the aliens who founded Atlantis, to John F. Kennedy’s ‘FUCK YOU’ to the Cuban people. What mattered to me were the words, “...aggressive strain...combination of sub-types A,C, D,..a recombinant strain that progresses to AIDs THREE TIMES FASTER than normal strains…” I spent months on multiple search engines, submitted several Freedom of Information Act requests to the Centers for Disease Control, sent emails to whoever I could find in the United Nations, NGOs in Florida, and more trying to find some lead, some detail, something concrete about this strain of AIDs. Why you ask? I’m a drug addled bug chaser - duh! I like dirty dick and well frankly, tired of the vanilla shit available to me in the grand-old-U-S-of-A. Gonorrhea - been there done that. Syphilis? HUH! One shot and cured? I even spent my two week vacation last year as a drugged out whore at a homeless camp in Oakland, California, where I ingested so much street drugs, raw homeless dick, viral blood and cum, I had the demons of Hell trying to live up to the example I set! Yeah, I came home with a sore throat, a sniffle, a drip or two, but nothing that would have set my path to that total self-destruct button. You know those TV ads with the big red button they push and BAM - office supplies appear? I was looking for one of those with a biohazard sign on it - one that would lead me to a toxic waste dump of humanity - the apocalypse of my existence - the end times living in the Nirvana of viral-infected bliss. I had almost given up, and then I read a blog post about Father Adelmo. At first I figured it was from what ever drugs I had let the latest BBC freak me up with so I would be a pliant white cunt for him, but turned out to be all true – and then some. My research on the web told me that Father Adelmo came to Florida in a boat with his parents when he was like 13. He excelled at school, went to seminary, rose up in the ranks of the church hierarchy, but then something happened. What exactly, I could not find, but searching deep and wide on the web I soon realized Father Adelmo had two groups of followers - the normal, kind-hearted citizen who supported his many, and ongoing good works even like his soup kitchens, hospices, and other charities even though he had been kicked out of the priesthood. The second were more of a mystery as the few threads I found that mentioned drugs, sex, cultish activities often disappeared almost as soon as they got posted. I guess Father Adelmo didn’t want folks like me to know the vile, twisted, drug-crazed shit he made them do. All that was well and good, but the fucking kicker - the fucking kicker was I found an online post where someone said that Father Adelmo had snuck them into Cuba for a weekend of raw, twisted, brutal, gangbang fucking. He was a sex trafficker – fuck! The catch? There’s always a fucking catch. Beyond the U.S. Coast Guard and whatever Cuban border issues and legalities such shit might create, Father Adelmo was a cash boy. Cash man more accurately, but a hustler. Pure and true. While it appeared his monies went to help the hungry, the homeless, the less fortunate, he was still a hustler and part of my mind warned - DANGER DANGER - CON-ARTIST! Well that didn’t stop me. Through a lot of sleuthing that was a combination of Sherlock Holmes, Magnum PI, and Agatha Christie, I was able to get an email address that I was told would connect me to him. A few emails later - with me having to bare my innermost, darkest, twisted and extreme desires - Father Adelmo agreed to help me if I had the funds and got to Miami. FUCK! Two weeks later I was in Little Havana waiting to step through a door with bars on it in a line of nondescript buildings that were a mix of warehouses/shops. The only indicator I was in the right place were the numbers above the door that were peeling off - you know those metallic looking kind you get at a hardware store that are like stickers? Oh yeah, and also by two men with plastic name tags pinned to their shirts that said ‘Brother Roberto’ who were standing outside the door. Did IHOP have a ‘going out of name tag sale’? They could have been twins as both were dark skinned, tall, muscular - like fucking buff muscular, with tight clipped hair, and were wearing all black clothes. The one on the right had a jagged scar on his right temple and he put a hand roughly in the middle of my chest to make sure I got the message that to enter through the door I had to get through him and his compadre first. I thought they would ask for an ID, secret password or some shit once I told them I was there to see Father Adelmo. No, nothing that movie-esque. Brother Roberto - the one with the scar - held up his phone, took a picture of my face sans-shades, tapped his foot as he waited, the phone dinged, then he smiled and said, “Entre por favor - PUTA!” I knew enough Spanish to know he just called me a slut and as I glanced at the hefty Cuban cigar he had dangling down his right pant leg I was more than ready and said, “Thanks Bob!” as I waved and sauntered in. The outside walls of Father Adelmo’s chapel were a vibrant blue, but inside it was dark, full of smoke, candles, and looked like the central altar of a medieval cathedral had been crammed into a space far too small for it. Did they fucking heist a church or what? In the middle of the floor, standing on a slightly raised dais was Father Adelmo dressed in robes of gold brocade with jewels on each finger, a miter hat, chains of gold - the embodiment of a prince of the church. Well except for him being naked, the smoke coming from crack pipes, weed pipes, and god knows what and the two ‘altar’ boys (clearly of legal age so ‘altar men’ but you know what I mean) off to the side fucking like rabbits. Holy hell what the fuck? “This do in remembrance of me,” Father Adelmo said as the next supplicant got down on his twink knees and slurped on the good Padre’s thick uncut dick that was peeking out between his golden robes. The twink then stood back up, took the jeweled chalice from Father Adelmo’s right hand and slurped from it, wiped his mouth with an exaggerated motion, then bent forward and with a rolled up bill snorted a line off a golden tray held in the Father’s left. The twink spasmed and would have dropped if not for another man dressed just like the two out front had not caught him, shuffled him to a bench against the wall, and left him propped askew as two other supplicants began stripping him. The Father paused and looked at me, “Come forth my son. Join the holy union. Be one of the body.” All eyes turned and stared at me - well all eyes that were conscious and not fucked up. I took a small step forward, then another, and the grunts of the two altar boys as one shot in the other’s ass spurred me forward. Up close I could see that Father Adelmo might be older than he first appeared. Yet, he was still handsome and that dick - fuck that dick! Up close it was even thicker and was drooling from the tip. I wanted nothing more than to bow before my new lord and master. “This do in remembrance of me,” Father Adelmo said as he jutted his hips forward and held out the chalice and plate for me to partake. I took a step back, raised my hands up in humble submission and said, “I..ah..think I’ll just watch? This time? OK?” Father Adelmo ran his tongue over his top lip then pulled his lower lip under his upper teeth all in one alluring motion that said, “YOU LOOK FUCKING TASTY!” I took another step back and bumped into a hard body. Another Brother Roberto was standing behind me, blocking any further regress, so I smiled, gave a nervous chuckle, and watched the rest of the ceremony trying not to let my ass override my common sense. Once all the supplicants had tasted Father Adelmo, drank from the chalice, snorted from the plate, and staggered off to begin their orgy of salvation, the Brother Roberto behind me pushed me forward as another Brother Roberto took a white, lace handkerchief and wiped the spittle off Father Adelmo’s dick before tucking it into his pant’s pocket. He then took the chalice and plate and followed the Padre stage right and through a door into the back. I was pushed along to follow and when I stepped through the heavy, wooden door once again had the thought of, “Where the fuck are we?” We were in a series of rooms that seemed far larger than what should have been - all polished wood, velvets, golden candlesticks, and more. Father Adelmo let one of the Brothers pull the golden robes off, but before they took off his jewels and miter he motioned for the chalice and plate and said to me again, “Come forth my son. Join the holy union. Be one of the body.” The Brother Roberto behind me gave me a rough shove, so I got the impression this was not a choice. I stepped forward, reached for the cup and got a good cuff up side the head. I turned with a snarl at the Brother as I rubbed my head and he pointed. Oh yeah, step one, kiss the ring - or in this case, the big uncut Cuban dick on Father Adelmo. I kneeled, kissed the tip, got my head cuffed, so I opened my mouth and slurped on it a few times while Father Adelmo and the Brother Robertos chanted in unison, “Taste of my flesh”. His dick was rank and foul tasting and I don’t really like sloppy seconds or 23rds or however many other mouths had been on there. Father Adelmo held the chalice and plate steady. I took the chalice, stared down into the dark red swirls of liquid, sniffed it, eased it to my lips and took a sip. I swallowed and Father Adelmo and the Brother Robertos chanted in unison, “Taste of my blood”. I didn’t have a rolled up bill so leaned close to the golden platter, pinched one nostril and SNORTED. Fucking hell! I choked, gagged, and thought for sure I would have a stroke as Father Adelmo and the Brother Robertos chanted in unison, “Taste of my spirit”. My eyes watered, I felt dizzy all of a sudden, and someone roughly put their hands under my armpits and half dragged/half walked me to a velvet cushioned chair just off to the side. While I tried to regain my senses, one Brother Roberto after another completed the ritual - tasting the Father’s dick, drinking from the chalice, snorting from the plate. Not one of them staggered or swooned and I felt like such a pussy. The ceremony complete, Father Adelmo’s final adornments were taken off, placed inside a large, wooden cabinet, and while I looked in awe again at his monster uncut dick, he came over to me and said, “Come my son, let’s discuss what it is that you seek.” The Brother Roberto I had met out front - the one with the jagged scar on his temple - helped me up then Bob and another Brother started to manhandle me and strip me. “Hey - hey - what the fuck guys - I…” Another cuff to the head and I shut up and complied. I was still buzzing from whatever the fuck it was I drank and snorted and even if I hadn’t of been there would have been no way honestly I could have stopped them. Plus, it was kind of hot being force stripped by the macho men even if they were fucking cultists or crazy fuckers. I was led through an ornate door into a room that had plush carpets, piles of pillows, tables with platters of white powder, crystal decanter’s with various drinks, and other carnal wants and desires. On the far side of the room the wall was covered with a series of four wooden booths. The ornate carvings and scrollwork and velvet curtains told me they were confessionals - or had been once. Father Adelmo sat in the one on the far left and I was directed to the one just to the right - my right/his left - whatever. The curtain was shut behind me, Father Adelmo slid the partition back, and said, “Kneel my son, and tell me - what do you seek?” I looked at the Padre’s handsome face and watched as he started stroking his dick. Someone in front of his booth held the golden platter out for him along with a golden straw, and Father Adelmo snorted a big line, wiped his nostrils, his eyes flared open, and he stroked his dick faster. My curtain was pulled back, the platter pushed in, I snorted again, swayed, Father Adelmo chuckled, but this time the rush was not so bad and I quickly steadied myself on my knees. “Push your ass back now,” Father Adelmo said. “What?” I asked, not understanding. I turned and looked at the confessional wall behind me and saw a gloryhole had been cut into the wood and trimmed in dark, red velvet. Two large, meaty fingers were wagging at me and I looked incredulously at Father Adelmo, the fingers, back at the Father. He smiled, “What do you seek?” he said again in a reassuring voice, then his tone darkened and he said, “NOW PUSH YOUR ASS BACK!” I looked back at the waggling fingers again - they were still there, waiting for my hole - yet they had changed and were dusted in a coat of white powder - likely from the golden platter. The fingers found my fuck-chute, I cried out “FUCK THAT BURNS, PLEASE STOP!” Father Adelmo had stood up now, his big, uncut dick hanging over the side of the confessional window as he grabbed my head and fed me his Cuban dick. “TASTE OF MY BODY - TASTE OF MY BLOOD - TASTE OF MY SPIRIT. THE VESSEL MUST BE CLEANSED, PREPARED, AND ANNOINTED!” Father Adelmo said as I sucked his brick-hard dick and the anonymous fingers scraped and dug and ripped up my hole as they coated my guts with the white powder. Other voices chimed in, all chanting in unison as I was plugged at both ends by these unholy men. I cried out, my guts clenched, my body heaved and the fingers that had been digging in my ass quickly removed themselves and a soft cloth wiped, dabbed, and cleaned me. Father Adelmo lifted my head up and peered down at me, “You have begun the journey. Your body has rid itself of that which has been holding you back. You have dispelled a good portion of the inner lining of guts to ensure that you are ready to receive the gifts that are to come. You must pay the price to reach El Dorado, to find the one you seek, to become the sacrifice on the altar of man - for men - by men. Now my son, what do you say?” I was confused, in pain, high as fuck, and was having a difficult time focusing between the scalding burning in my ass, the hot man dick that had just been taken from my mouth, and the words that the Padre had spoken. What do I say? Yes? Please? Thank you? How the fuck did I know what he wanted? He was talking in riddles - just fuck me for god’s sake! I was raised a Baptist so all this formal religious overtone was a bit beyond my personal experience, but thanks to cable TV I knew enough I guess as I replied, “FORGIVE ME FATHER, FOR I HAVE SINNED.” I THEN GASPED AS THE THICK UNCUT DICK PUSHED THROUGH THE GLORYHOLE CUT INTO THE WOOD OF THE CONFESSIONAL, THEN THROUGH MY OUTER ASS RING. “YOU HAVE NOT SINNED YET MY SON,” FATHER ADELMO SAID, “BUT I SEE FROM THE ARCH OF YOUR BACK THAT YOU ARE ABOUT TO. HERE, SNORT THIS WHITE MANNA, FEEL THE BURN, AND LET BROTHER ROBERTO GIVE YOU YOUR PENANCE.” 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!)

Reposting Part 2 to try to fix spacing issue - constant battle in BZ format so apologies: Part 2 – Dr. Mike Takes His Co-Pay: My dick was the fountain of death – the headwaters of the River Styx and I was Charon, the mythological Greek deity that served as the ferryman, carrying the dead across to Hades. Their fee had to be paid though and the toll I demanded and took was their drugged up, unconscious, raw, and NEG hole. My brutal raw fucks, my POZ toxic load, and the volume of virus I deposited from my hyperspermia ensured there was no reincarnation, no coming back – this was the end of the road for each and every one of them – it was only a matter of time. Over it all lorded Dr. Mike – my own Zeus – a god of Olympus who orchestrated every rape fuck, who bequeathed to me and those who served him all our needs and wishes – and yet as I came to learn, Zeus had a dark side and he was more the Lord of the Underworld than I had ever imagined until it happened to me. “When do I get to fuck another bottom?” I asked Dr. Mike the following Monday after I had rough fucked another knocked out guy and blown two loads back to back in his now, shredded hole. Since my first visit to Dr. Mike’s office and fucking the guy named Lucas, going back and breeding another willing/unwilling bottom was all I could think about. I had NEVER EVER been able to fuck like that. With a full thrust, with all my energy, with no regard for the bottom’s pleas to stop or slow down or take it easy. It was a warm, open hole for me – ME – and I took it – I owned that shit and I had to have more. On my way out the door that first time Dr. Mike had instructed me to not jerk off at all, which was a fucking torture. I was in the habit of blowing a load in the toilet as I got ready for work in the morning and then another before I went to bed from watching porn or hanging out on the sex sites online. As my globs of thick, infected sperm swirled around the toilet bowl I always thought it was such a waste, but now my POZ load is being put to good use – breeding and infecting drugged up pussy bottoms who want a no limit rape fuck! That’s all I could think about – and was willing to do anything – ANYTHING Dr. Mike said. Monday’s became my playtime – for the next several weeks Dr. Mike and Dr. Collins had a fresh ass waiting for me – one that was knocked out, tied up, and waiting for me to rape fuck and fill it with my gallons of POZ jizz as the little cameras recorded it all. Then we changed things up a bit, but at first it was like all the other times. I arrived at Dr. Mike’s office, he escorted me to the back, some anonymous bottom was bent over, tied down to the table with his winky hole just calling to me. Dr. Collins – the anesthesiologist –injected a large syringe containing a brew of Ketamine, Fentanyl, Propofol, and other drugs into the bottom’s IV as he said, “Time to dream little man.” Dr. Mike rolled his stool over, handed me a clip board with various forms for me to sign authorizing my own ‘treatment’, showed me the videos of the bottom providing his consent, affirming he was legal, blah the fucking blah blah and then I was off to the races. The bottom’s hole was wicked tight and bled like a stuck pig when I ripped him open – dry and raw. Dr. Mike had me pause only a second and then said, “It is only superficial. I think you can do better – yes?” Hell yes! By the time I finished breeding that bottom the white pillow case under his knees was red and pink and slathered in my the manly mix of bodily fluids. I yanked my semi-hard dick out of his hole, watching the last splatters of red drip onto the stained pillowcase like a Jackson Pollock painting redo. Dr. Mike stepped up close behind me, pressed his body against mine, his hard dick pushing at my skin through his pants and said, “Can you fuck him again? Can you shoot some more?” I wasn’t sure I could and in that moment of reflection Dr. Mike reached around and with both hands and attached small medical clamps onto my tender nipples. “JESUS CHRIST WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING!” I howled as I hunched over in pain and tried to step backwards. Dr. Mike grabbed my arms and held me fast. I gasped and winced and swore, yet my body was flooded with endorphins, my dick got fucking brick, my shoulders unclenched, and I wrestled forward and slammed back into that gaped hole. “OH SHIT – OH SHIT – OH MY GOD – THAT ASS IS SO WETT AND GOOD – OH CHRIST – CAN FEEL ALL MY CUM – OH MY FUCKING GOD I’M GOING TO SHOOT AGAIN – OH MY GOD, OH MY…AAAAAAAARRRRRGGHHHH….” Thankfully Dr. Mike had a chair waiting and a glass of water when I pulled out as I flopped down, dehydrated, exhausted, and fucked-out silly. Once the glass was emptied Dr. Mike was in front of me on his stool, placed his left hand firmly in the middle of my still heaving chest as he said, “This may sting a little.” He pulled off first one clamp then the other and I winced, yelped, and oohed as he rubbed my tender nipples. My dick instantly popped hard again and I groaned. Dr. Mike smiled, “I believe that physically you are able to produce far more semen than you or your previous physicians have determined. I know you enjoyed fucking this bottom, and of course are more than welcome to do so again if you wish. However, given your current physical state might I suggest an alternate therapy?” What the fuck did he have in mind? Dr. Mike flipped on a few light switches as we walked down the hall, further into his office warren. Not a word was said as we walked and I had to muffle a laugh as with every step my dick dribbled POZ jizz along our path. Well I’m sure the cleaning people in here had seen worse. The floor in the hall changed from linoleum to tile and Dr. Mike stopped in front of a door that had a porthole style window in it. He pulled out some keys, unlocked it, it swung open silently, and we stepped in. When Dr. Mike turned on the lights I thought it looked like some old fashioned torture chamber and I would learn I wasn’t far from the truth. “This room used to be used for physical therapy sessions by a previous tenant so some of the equipment they left behind has come in quite useful with a few minor adjustments for my various treatment programs,” Dr. Mike explained as we did a quick walk down one side of the rectangular room and back up the opposite wall. We stopped almost back where we started near a padded bench or something reminded me of a pommel horse in gymnastics but with weird additions and holes added – Frankenstein kind of shit. Dr. Mike sat on one of his rolling stools – how many of those fuckers did he have – slid himself between the bench and a rack of medical instruments and started flipping switches. I was bored and horny and casually scratched at the drying man juices that had gathered under my balls from fucking the bottom. Dr. Mike spun around, patted the leather bench, “If you please? Lie face down – oh wait, let me lower it just a little more first – there – now if you please, lie face down spread eagle – that’s it – yes, yes, your arms go out here and here and yes, your legs out like that. Excellent. Now if you can scoot back just an inch or two – yes, perfect.” Dr. Mike slid the stool a little down my side, reached under the table and I gave a surprised “OH!” as part of the table right beneath my dick fell away, which let my balls and dick drop straight down. Who makes a fucking gloryhole in a table? Dr. Mike rolled back near my head and held up a plastic container looking thing that was attached to a machine by some wires and long tubes, “This is an electrical penis pump,” he explained. “For my patients who have erectile dysfunction problems, often times the issue is that they must relearn or reteach their organ how to get hard. I won’t go into all of the theories on the whys and hows, but suffice it to say that this will provide you a gentle, relaxed, and continuous form of stimulation that will allow you to orgasm repeatedly and as much as you want without the additional physical exertions. For our purposes, I want to document your semen output that happens AFTER your natural intercourse and compare volumes. Do you understand?” I nodded and said, “So you mean that machine is going to suck my dick and make me shoot?” Dr. Mike smiled, gave a soft chuckle, and said, “Yes, something like that. Shall we?” I have to admit that the first few minutes I thought to myself this is how a cow must feel in a milking barn. I mean, that’s what Dr. Mike was doing right? Milking me? But I needed to come again so bad and this – well – it seemed like a good idea at the time so hell why not. The first few minutes Dr. Mike adjusted dials, knobs, made notes in his folder, as I told him if it felt good, bad, too much, or just right. I was fucking Goldilocks, but Jesus hell when we found that sweet spot my balls pulled up, my gut tightened, and I started to shoot, “I’M CUMMING, OH MY GOD I’M CUMMING, I…OH MY GOD…OK…THAT’S ENOUGH…I…OH PLEASE THAT’S ENOUGH…OH SHIT…” Dr. Mike turned a knob, the suction increased ever so slightly as my dick and balls were pulled further into the tube and my body shook on the table above, “It’s alright now, just relax, don’t fight it,” Dr. Mike said, “The initial sensation and urge to pull away will pass I assure you and understand that if you do pull away, it will likely create permanent damage, so now – focus on relaxing your pelvic muscle, let the machine do the work – that’s it – don’t strain – yes – look at that! The volume of sperm is not diminishing in the least – just a few more seconds – ready – here we go, I will now start dialing it down, down, is that better?” The intensity of the pull had eased, but I was still cumming and could not even moan as the orgasms continued to roll through me, wave after wave, as I filled the tubes with my POZ semen. When the tugging on my dick from the milking machine finally ceased I was drained – literally. Dr. Mike had pulled every drop – so I thought – of semen from me and dried me out me to the bones. Once he had unhooked me from the suction tube he patted my shoulder, “Rest now. I’ll come back in a bit and check on you.” I was so wiped; I easily and quickly fell into a deep sleep and only came awake some time later when I felt someone stroking my dick. I was lying on my back on the table and Dr. Collins was standing beside me. He still had his medical mask on, white coat, but he was naked from the waist down. He had a tiny tiny dick, and as he climbed up onto the bench and squatted over my now hard dick I saw his beat up asshole. It was black and blue and bruised, puffy, and rippled, ugly as fuck but he slid right down onto my POZ shaft with all intents and purposes of milking another load out of me. Normally he might not have been my type but any hole was a good hole so I fucked the hell out of that puffy ass ring and filled him like Dunkin Donuts jelly special – glazed, stuffed, creamed, and sugared! The next week, as Dr. Mike hooked me up to the machine he said, “For your medical safety and to ensure the most effective treatment, I am going to use these leather straps to secure your arms and ankles to the table. I want to ensure that you do not accidentally hurt yourself by pulling off the machine. Do you understand?” I nodded. Sounded reasonable. “STOP – OH IT’S TOO MUCH!” I cried out as Dr. Mike turned up the power on the suction tube once we started. He rolled his stool over, patted my shoulder, “You’ll be just fine. I see that you are having trouble relaxing so this will help.” I then went, “OUCH, What the fuck doc?” as Dr. Mike inserted a needle into my left arm, patted the small driblet of blood, and covered it a smiley-face bandage. “Dr. Collins prepared this for you in case we needed it and I believe we do. Just a small relaxant to help your treatment.” I felt all warm, chill, a little fuzzy, but Dr. Mike was right and as I relished the soft rush flooding through me as he rolled back to the machine and cranked the knob up even more and my POZ ball milk flowed. The next couple weeks then became all about me fucking the drugged up and unconscious bottom after Dr. Mike had put the clamps on my nipples until I felt like tapping out, stumbling to the milking table – my name for it – as Dr. Mike worked the knobs to the machine that pulled and drew more POZ nutt from my balls after he had strapped me down and gave me the little shot to help me relax – which was becoming my favorite part! I didn’t know what Dr. Collins put in that little syringe, but I was eager for it and even started to ask for more each time and as a thank you I made sure to let Dr. Collins topping me off with a final load in his hole. While this was all great I started feeling just off, like I had this itch in my guts or something and it didn’t seem to go away until my visit to the doctor’s office. When I explained it to Dr. Mike he suggested we up my treatment program and I started going to his office every other evening just to get hooked up to the milking machine. Lying on the table as the machine sucked my dick and took my flow of POZ cum, feeling the warm buzz from the shots, and Dr. Mike – it was all fucking good! Well it was good until Dr. Mike decided to try to finger my ass. I was enjoying my bliss when I realized Dr. Mike had stood up. I felt him pry apart my ass cheeks and I first thought he was just trying to make sure I was lined up with the hole in the table, but then he pushed a finger at my hole and tried to stick his finger in. I craned my neck and twisted my head, “NO! Don’t do that shit!” I said, “I’m a top man OK? I don’t get my ass touched.” Dr. Mike stepped back, a muscle in his jaw twitched, he smiled, “Of course,” he said and sat back down on his stool. What the fuck was that about I wondered. My next visit was two days later on a Friday and I was eager to get hooked up and get my shot. That itchy feeling in my guts was driving me crazy and my balls were aching and full and I needed release. Dr. Mike seemed his usual self when he opened the door. He led me to the room; I quickly got undressed as we made small talk, then Dr. Mike strapped me to the table and hooked up the machine. He came and stood at the end of the table by my head, reached underneath, released a lever and the section where my head was dropped away and I had to hold my head up as I said, “What the fuck doc? I….” Dr. Mike unzipped his pants, pulled out his dick, stepped closer and said, “Open your mouth.” I shook my head, “No, no, I don’t….” He then slapped me, “OPEN YOUR MOUTH! NO, DON’T SUCK IT – YET, FIRST SWALLOW.” Swallow, what did…fuck he started pissing in my throat and as he did he said, “THAT’S IT – SWALLOW MY RANK PISS. SWALLOW MY INFECTED PISS. SWALLOW MY CHEM PISS – CAN YOU TASTE IT? CAN YOU TASTE THE VIRUSES I CARRY? MY TOXIC DICK? GAG ON IT – CHOKE – DROWN YOU IN MY FUCKING PISS!” The more I choked and fought against swallowing, the more Dr. Mike – who had now become Dr. Jekyll – held my head tight and forced his piss down my throat. Much of it came right back out - onto the floor, splattered his pants, my face, but he didn’t let up and made me take what he wanted to give. Once the last drops of piss were vacated from his kidneys, Dr. Mike sighed, stepped back, casually got undressed, then said, “Oh my apologies, here is that better?” as he slid the portion of the table under my head back up so I could rest it on there once again. I sighed in relief as I thought he was going to make me suck him, so clearly what he just did was a momentary lapse. But wait, why was he naked? Dr. Mike walked over to the table, grabbed a syringe, walked back and I noticed his dick was now hard, about 9-inches, thick, and every vein was bulging out like it was on steroids. He set the syringe by my arm, checked each strap, then sat on his stool and rolled in front of the milking machine. He flipped it on and immediately I yelped as he cranked the suction up. Dr. Mike spun on his stool, “Now now. Remember – RELAX – and I think we will try a new treatment today – something a little more natural to gauge if that influences your semen output.” The orgasms started to roll over me as the suction machine tugged on my dick and exhumed the AIDS semen from my balls. I moaned, and then stopped as Dr. Mike stood up, walked over to the table, climbed up on it and lay on my back. His face was now next to mine as his hard dick pressed into my ass and his hands reached down and back to pull my cheeks apart from each side. “PAYMENT IS DUE,” Dr. Mike said, “YOU WILL NOW BE CHARGED YOUR CO-PAY FOR EVERY BOTTOM I HAVE LET YOU FUCK AND INFECT. FOR EVERY GALLON OF SPERM I HAVE ALLOWED YOU TO UNLEASH. FOR EVERY DROP OF DRUGS I HAVE GIVEN YOU. I WILL FUCK YOU AND GIVE YOU MY OWN TOXIC SPERM!” I whimpered and pleaded, “No, you can’t, I’m sorry for...for whatever it is you think I…that I did. I’m sorry, just don’t, please. I’m not a bottom! I don’t get fucked! I’m a top!” Dr. Mike chuckled, his dick head nudged at my puckered ass, and he replied, “Correction – you WERE a top,” and then I screamed as he ripped my hole open with his raw dick and started to fuck me dry and hard. “YOUR LIFE IS NO LONGER YOUR OWN – IT IS IN MY HANDS NOW – AND WE WILL SEE IF YOU ARE WORTHY,” Dr. Mike growled as he took my cherry and fucked me. I was a grown fucking man and men don’t cry, but tears were liberally coming out of my eyes as I fought the pain, the confusion, the mix of feelings of what was happening versus the waves of pleasure shooting out from my dick as the machine sucked out my never-ending stream of cum. I did manage to blubber out, “But…I thought you said this was free?” Dr. Mike laughed, “NO, I SAID – AND YOU SIGNED THE FORM CONFIRMING – THERE WAS NO MONETARY PAYMENT DUE, WHICH IS VERY DIFFERENT THAN ANYTHING BEING FREE. THERE IS ALWAYS A PRICE TO PAY AND I BELIEVE YOU WILL FIND THIS PAYMENT FAR BETTER THAN IF I SHARED ALL THE EVIDENCE I HAVE WITH THE AUTHORITIES THAT SHOWS YOU RAPED AN UNCONSCIOUS AND ‘UNWILLING’ YOUNG MAN UNDER MY CARE, QUITE BRUTALLY MATTER OF FACT.” Dr. Mike lifted off me slightly, pulling his dick out of my ass and as I clenched my hole back tight he slammed back in and said, “EVERY MAN NEEDS TO FEEL WHAT IT IS LIKE TO SUBMIT, TO PLEASURE ANOTHER MAN, TO TAKE WHAT IF OFFERED. THIS WILL MAKE YOU A BETTER TOP – IF YOU EVER HAVE THAT CHANCE AGAIN - AND WELL MY VENOM WILL REMAKE YOU AS I HAVE MADE OTHERS. YOU CANNOT IMAGINE WHAT I HAVE UNLEASHED ON THE WORLD AND WHILE I NORMALLY DON’T FIND PLEASURE IN SOMEONE WHO IS ALREADY INFECTED, I THINK WE SHALL BENEFIT EACH OTHER. NOW TAKE MY TOXIC CUM UP YOUR ASS – FEEL MY INFECTIONS INVADE YOUR BLOODSTREAM!” As Dr. Mike bred me with his load, my body exploded in the biggest orgasm I had ever had and I knew I was filling the sucking machine tube with a massive quantity of cum. I was breathing hard when Dr. Mike – now standing beside the machine, his evil deed done – inspected the volume of POZ nutt I had produced so far. He turned, smiled, “I believe we have found a better way to force your body to produce the volume of semen I believe it capable of.” He then climbed back up on the table and mounted me again. Sometime later I came to. I wasn’t on the milking table anymore. Where was I? It took me a moment to get my bearings, as my head was all addled, my thoughts mixed and jumbled, the pain in my ass incredible, my pelvic muscles sore and aching. Once I finally did I realized with shock and horror that I was still at Dr. Mike’s office, but now I was strapped to the fuck bench that the bottoms I fucked were usually tied to. I realized I was tied as well – just like them – and I also had the leather hood over my head. In addition, when I tried to cry out I couldn’t. Something large and somewhat pliable had been inserted into my mouth and tied to my head – what I would come to know later was a ball gag. I grunted, struggled, I heard a faint noise and Dr. Mike walked into view, his white lab coat on, the rest of him naked, his brutal dick still looking mean and hard. “Ah good, I see you are awake. I was concerned that maybe Dr. Collins at might have gotten the dosage just a tad off,” Dr. Mike said, “But no, I can always count on him. I can count on all of those I have made and created. Did you know that I was the first man to ever fuck him too? Of course you didn’t, but I was. Him and many many others. Like you, I need to satisfy my base urges and needs and well – tonight you have helped in a small way with that. Now where we were – ah yes, here you chart says…. One moment please.” I turned my head to see Dr. Mike leave the room and I struggled with all my might against the straps then stopped as soon as I saw him come back. He opened the folder back up, “Apologies for the interruption. Yes the chart says that when you first visited me you were NEGATIVE for other STDs. Let me just update that now to reflect syphilis, gonorrhea, herpes of the mouth, anus, and penis, and a few others. What? I see by the shaking of your head you disagree? Well in short, some of these I have given you myself, some I used swabs and vials of disease vectors etc… as the source materials, and the rest, well….You shall see.” Dr. Mike set the folder down, his cold hands grabbed my hips, and he slammed back into my torn and bloodied hole. “DO YOU FEEL THAT? DOES IT FEEL LIKE A 100 LITTLE NAILS PIERCING YOU WITH EVERY THRUST? I MUST SAY YOUR ANAL CANAL WAS MOST RESISTANT TO MY INITIAL INVASION, BUT WE HAVE RESOLVED THAT. FEEL HOW YOUR ASS RING SPLITS AND OPENS WHEN I SLAM IN? ALSO AS I EXPECTED, YOUR HYPERSPERMIA HAS ELEVATED YOUR SEMEN PRODUCTION AND I HAVE HAD TO PLACE EXTRA MEDICAL PADS BELOW YOU TO ABSORB THE COPIOUS SPERM NOW FLOWING FROM YOUR DICK EVERY TIME I ENTER YOUR ASS.” I moaned, tensed, Dr. Mike angled his dick and started to pound at one spot, “AH YES – FEEL THAT? I SPENT EXTRA TIME SCRAPING AT THAT SPOT WITH A MEDICAL INSTRUMENT – AND LET’S SEE – RGHT ABOUT – OH YES, THERE. RIGHT THERE TOO. GOOD, GOOD. ARE YOU READY FOR SOME MORE DISEASE? TO ABSORB SOME MORE TOXIC CUM? TO BECOME THE CUMP DUMP THAT YOU HAD HOPED TO FIND ONE DAY? TAKE MY DEATH SENTENCE – TAKE IT – YOUR LIFE IS GONE AND YOU ARE NOTHING MORE THAN JUST ANOTHER FILE IN MY CABINET!” A few grunts and thrusts and Dr. Mike finished depositing the latest of I had no idea then of how many loads inside me and as he sighed in satisfaction and yanked his dick out, a new voice said, “Jesus Christ your are a sick fuck just like always Dr. Mike.” I tried to turn my head to see who was speaking, but could not identify the person and knew it was not Dr. Collins. Dr. Mike chuckled, walked into my field of vision with the folder, grabbed one of his stools, sat down, rolled it closer and recited the introduction like he had made this speech often, “I have decided your next treatment needs to be more, shall we say, extreme. My friend Charles back there has a true horse dick. I am big, but even I am in awe of Charles’ piece of meet which is over 11 inches and VERY thick.” The sound of belts, buckles, and clothes being set on a metal chair touched my ears and a throaty laugh in agreement to that last statement. Dr. Mike continued, “Even better, Charles is a brutal nasty fucker who likes to walk around with a constant case of gonorrhea, and thanks to Charles, he and I are both sharing that little gift right now. Charles has helped me ensure a number of asses received the venom they deserved and delights in the chemical pleasures. You shall experience needles, powders, smokes, and more. I am ever amazed at the drug forms he finds and forces onto our victims. He is also HIV + of course, with a high viral load and not just HIV, Charles has full blown AIDs. He is a true AIDs fucker. So, let me introduce you to Charles, your new Leather Lord and owner.” My what? What the fuck? A leather-gloved hand smacked my right ass cheek hard as a big man walked up and stood beside Dr. Mike. At that moment I could not have told you a thing about what he looked like as the only thing I noticed or could focus on was his monster horse dick that had a Prince Albert (PA) piercing through the head that looked like it was big enough to be a bracelet on a wrist. I stared as Charles spoke, “Lesson 1 – never speak unless spoken to and then only to say YES SIR or HARDER MASTER. You only got 4 words in your vocabulary now.” I could not have replied if I wanted to with the ball gag still in my mouth. Dr. Mike looked up, “Do you wish me to knock him out for his first treatment? Dr. Collins left a couple of extra doses just in case.” Charles laughed, stroked his hard dick, “No way. You know I like to hear them scream.” I shivered, my heart started to race. Dr. Mike made a note in his folder, “Oh I do, but you will have years for that. Shall we compromise? You know of course you will need to inject him before you leave - and again, my condolences on the loss of your boy Roger. Such insolence is intolerable and good that you were able to find him a new home as a castrated mare at the Breeder’s Market.” Charles spoke with a deep sadness, “Yeah, we had been together a long time, but hell, time for some new pussy to bleed and infect. I think I will call this one Roger too. Monogrammed towels and all you know – HA! You sure no one will miss him?” With the chart in hand, Dr. Mike scanned his notes, “No one at all. Lionel and his crew from the Breeder’s Market are already at his place cleaning it out and dealing with his accounts – financial, online, and otherwise. He has no immediate family and his employer has been notified of his unfortunate accidental heroin overdose and his admission into a treatment program, which sometime during the night he ran away from and no one knows where has gone. His medical team and the authorities can only assume he is in an alley someplace trying to get high and most likely has left the city.” WHAT THE FUCK – NO NO NO I TRIED TO CRY OUT – WHAT THE FUCK? A leather glove slapped my face hard, my nose started to bleed, Dr. Mike, got up grabbed his iPad off the table, sat back on the stool and rolled over closer. He smiled, tapped the iPad, swiped, and up on the screen popped – me.“….being of sound mind I consent to all treatments for my heroin addiction…..” I was confused. I didn’t remember making that, I didn’t say that! I never have done...would never have…shit! Charles had gone behind me and started eating my fucked out ass – his beard scratching my skin, his teeth sinking into my flesh, his gloved hands clawing at me. Dr. Mike put his face close to mine. Charles rose from eating me out and then rape slammed his 11-inch dick into my ass ripping me anew with his horsemeat and PA making me scream into the ball gag. Dr. Mike then said, “You really should read all the forms you sign.” (*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!) (The Breeder’s Market and Dr Mike: Biohazard and Healer –story links may be found here - https://breeding.zone/topic/34692-dr-mike-biohazard-story-links/#comment-384265 )

Part 2 – Dr. Mike Takes His Co-Pay: My dick was the fountain of death – the headwaters of the River Styx and I was Charon, the mythological Greek deity that served as the ferryman, carrying the dead across to Hades. Their fee had to be paid though and the toll I demanded and took was their drugged up, unconscious, raw, and NEG hole. My brutal raw fucks, my POZ toxic load, and the volume of virus I deposited from my hyperspermia ensured there was no reincarnation, no coming back – this was the end of the road for each and every one of them – it was only a matter of time. Over it all lorded Dr. Mike – my own Zeus – a god of Olympus who orchestrated every rape fuck, who bequeathed to me and those who served him all our needs and wishes – and yet as I came to learn, Zeus had a dark side and he was more the Lord of the Underworld than I had ever imagined until it happened to me. “When do I get to fuck another bottom?” I asked Dr. Mike the following Monday after I had rough fucked another knocked out guy and blown two loads back to back in his now, shredded hole. Since my first visit to Dr. Mike’s office and fucking the guy named Lucas, going back and breeding another willing/unwilling bottom was all I could think about. I had NEVER EVER been able to fuck like that. With a full thrust, with all my energy, with no regard for the bottom’s pleas to stop or slow down or take it easy. It was a warm, open hole for me – ME – and I took it – I owned that shit and I had to have more. On my way out the door that first time Dr. Mike had instructed me to not jerk off at all, which was a fucking torture. I was in the habit of blowing a load in the toilet as I got ready for work in the morning and then another before I went to bed from watching porn or hanging out on the sex sites online. As my globs of thick, infected sperm swirled around the toilet bowl I always thought it was such a waste, but now my POZ load is being put to good use – breeding and infecting drugged up pussy bottoms who want a no limit rape fuck! That’s all I could think about – and was willing to do anything – ANYTHING Dr. Mike said. Monday’s became my playtime – for the next several weeks Dr. Mike and Dr. Collins had a fresh ass waiting for me – one that was knocked out, tied up, and waiting for me to rape fuck and fill it with my gallons of POZ jizz as the little cameras recorded it all. Then we changed things up a bit, but at first it was like all the other times. I arrived at Dr. Mike’s office, he escorted me to the back, some anonymous bottom was bent over, tied down to the table with his winky hole just calling to me. Dr. Collins – the anesthesiologist –injected a large syringe containing a brew of Ketamine, Fentanyl, Propofol, and other drugs into the bottom’s IV as he said, “Time to dream little man.” Dr. Mike rolled his stool over, handed me a clip board with various forms for me to sign authorizing my own ‘treatment’, showed me the videos of the bottom providing his consent, affirming he was legal, blah the fucking blah blah and then I was off to the races. The bottom’s hole was wicked tight and bled like a stuck pig when I ripped him open – dry and raw. Dr. Mike had me pause only a second and then said, “It is only superficial. I think you can do better – yes?” Hell yes! By the time I finished breeding that bottom the white pillow case under his knees was red and pink and slathered in my the manly mix of bodily fluids. I yanked my semi-hard dick out of his hole, watching the last splatters of red drip onto the stained pillowcase like a Jackson Pollock painting redo. Dr. Mike stepped up close behind me, pressed his body against mine, his hard dick pushing at my skin through his pants and said, “Can you fuck him again? Can you shoot some more?” I wasn’t sure I could and in that moment of reflection Dr. Mike reached around and with both hands and attached small medical clamps onto my tender nipples. “JESUS CHRIST WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING!” I howled as I hunched over in pain and tried to step backwards. Dr. Mike grabbed my arms and held me fast. I gasped and winced and swore, yet my body was flooded with endorphins, my dick got fucking brick, my shoulders unclenched, and I wrestled forward and slammed back into that gaped hole. “OH SHIT – OH SHIT – OH MY GOD – THAT ASS IS SO WETT AND GOOD – OH CHRIST – CAN FEEL ALL MY CUM – OH MY FUCKING GOD I’M GOING TO SHOOT AGAIN – OH MY GOD, OH MY…AAAAAAAARRRRRGGHHHH….” Thankfully Dr. Mike had a chair waiting and a glass of water when I pulled out as I flopped down, dehydrated, exhausted, and fucked-out silly. Once the glass was emptied Dr. Mike was in front of me on his stool, placed his left hand firmly in the middle of my still heaving chest as he said, “This may sting a little.” He pulled off first one clamp then the other and I winced, yelped, and oohed as he rubbed my tender nipples. My dick instantly popped hard again and I groaned. Dr. Mike smiled, “I believe that physically you are able to produce far more semen than you or your previous physicians have determined. I know you enjoyed fucking this bottom, and of course are more than welcome to do so again if you wish. However, given your current physical state might I suggest an alternate therapy?” What the fuck did he have in mind? Dr. Mike flipped on a few light switches as we walked down the hall, further into his office warren. Not a word was said as we walked and I had to muffle a laugh as with every step my dick dribbled POZ jizz along our path. Well I’m sure the cleaning people in here had seen worse. The floor in the hall changed from linoleum to tile and Dr. Mike stopped in front of a door that had a porthole style window in it. He pulled out some keys, unlocked it, it swung open silently, and we stepped in. When Dr. Mike turned on the lights I thought it looked like some old fashioned torture chamber and I would learn I wasn’t far from the truth. “This room used to be used for physical therapy sessions by a previous tenant so some of the equipment they left behind has come in quite useful with a few minor adjustments for my various treatment programs,” Dr. Mike explained as we did a quick walk down one side of the rectangular room and back up the opposite wall. We stopped almost back where we started near a padded bench or something reminded me of a pommel horse in gymnastics but with weird additions and holes added – Frankenstein kind of shit. Dr. Mike sat on one of his rolling stools – how many of those fuckers did he have – slid himself between the bench and a rack of medical instruments and started flipping switches. I was bored and horny and casually scratched at the drying man juices that had gathered under my balls from fucking the bottom. Dr. Mike spun around, patted the leather bench, “If you please? Lie face down – oh wait, let me lower it just a little more first – there – now if you please, lie face down spread eagle – that’s it – yes, yes, your arms go out here and here and yes, your legs out like that. Excellent. Now if you can scoot back just an inch or two – yes, perfect.” Dr. Mike slid the stool a little down my side, reached under the table and I gave a surprised “OH!” as part of the table right beneath my dick fell away, which let my balls and dick drop straight down. Who makes a fucking gloryhole in a table? Dr. Mike rolled back near my head and held up a plastic container looking thing that was attached to a machine by some wires and long tubes, “This is an electrical penis pump,” he explained. “For my patients who have erectile dysfunction problems, often times the issue is that they must relearn or reteach their organ how to get hard. I won’t go into all of the theories on the whys and hows, but suffice it to say that this will provide you a gentle, relaxed, and continuous form of stimulation that will allow you to orgasm repeatedly and as much as you want without the additional physical exertions. For our purposes, I want to document your semen output that happens AFTER your natural intercourse and compare volumes. Do you understand?” I nodded and said, “So you mean that machine is going to suck my dick and make me shoot?” Dr. Mike smiled, gave a soft chuckle, and said, “Yes, something like that. Shall we?” I have to admit that the first few minutes I thought to myself this is how a cow must feel in a milking barn. I mean, that’s what Dr. Mike was doing right? Milking me? But I needed to come again so bad and this – well – it seemed like a good idea at the time so hell why not. The first few minutes Dr. Mike adjusted dials, knobs, made notes in his folder, as I told him if it felt good, bad, too much, or just right. I was fucking Goldilocks, but Jesus hell when we found that sweet spot my balls pulled up, my gut tightened, and I started to shoot, “I’M CUMMING, OH MY GOD I’M CUMMING, I…OH MY GOD…OK…THAT’S ENOUGH…I…OH PLEASE THAT’S ENOUGH…OH SHIT…” Dr. Mike turned a knob, the suction increased ever so slightly as my dick and balls were pulled further into the tube and my body shook on the table above, “It’s alright now, just relax, don’t fight it,” Dr. Mike said, “The initial sensation and urge to pull away will pass I assure you and understand that if you do pull away, it will likely create permanent damage, so now – focus on relaxing your pelvic muscle, let the machine do the work – that’s it – don’t strain – yes – look at that! The volume of sperm is not diminishing in the least – just a few more seconds – ready – here we go, I will now start dialing it down, down, is that better?” The intensity of the pull had eased, but I was still cumming and could not even moan as the orgasms continued to roll through me, wave after wave, as I filled the tubes with my POZ semen. When the tugging on my dick from the milking machine finally ceased I was drained – literally. Dr. Mike had pulled every drop – so I thought – of semen from me and dried me out me to the bones. Once he had unhooked me from the suction tube he patted my shoulder, “Rest now. I’ll come back in a bit and check on you.” I was so wiped; I easily and quickly fell into a deep sleep and only came awake some time later when I felt someone stroking my dick. I was lying on my back on the table and Dr. Collins was standing beside me. He still had his medical mask on, white coat, but he was naked from the waist down. He had a tiny tiny dick, and as he climbed up onto the bench and squatted over my now hard dick I saw his beat up asshole. It was black and blue and bruised, puffy, and rippled, ugly as fuck but he slid right down onto my POZ shaft with all intents and purposes of milking another load out of me. Normally he might not have been my type but any hole was a good hole so I fucked the hell out of that puffy ass ring and filled him like Dunkin Donuts jelly special – glazed, stuffed, creamed, and sugared! The next week, as Dr. Mike hooked me up to the machine he said, “For your medical safety and to ensure the most effective treatment, I am going to use these leather straps to secure your arms and ankles to the table. I want to ensure that you do not accidently hurt yourself by pulling off the machine. Do you understand?” I nodded. Sounded reasonable. “STOP – OH IT’S TOO MUCH!” I cried out as Dr. Mike turned up the power on the suction tube once we started. He rolled his stool over, patted my shoulder, “You’ll be just fine. I see that you are having trouble relaxing so this will help.” I then went, “OUCH, What the fuck doc?” as Dr. Mike inserted a needle into my left arm, patted the small driblet of blood, and covered it a smiley-face bandage. “Dr. Collins prepared this for you in case we needed it and I believe we do. Just a small relaxant to help your treatment.” I felt all warm, chill, a little fuzzy, but Dr. Mike was right and as I relished the soft rush flooding through me as he rolled back to the machine and cranked the knob up even more and my POZ ball milk flowed. The next couple weeks then became all about me fucking the drugged up and unconscious bottom after Dr. Mike had put the clamps on my nipples until I felt like tapping out, stumbling to the milking table – my name for it – as Dr. Mike worked the knobs to the machine that pulled and drew more POZ nutt from my balls after he had strapped me down and gave me the little shot to help me relax – which was becoming my favorite part! I didn’t know what Dr. Collins put in that little syringe, but I was eager for it and even started to ask for more each time and as a thank you I made sure to let Dr. Collins topping me off with a final load in his hole. While this was all great I started feeling just off, like I had this itch in my guts or something and it didn’t seem to go away until my visit to the doctor’s office. When I explained it to Dr. Mike he suggested we up my treatment program and I started going to his office every other evening just to get hooked up to the milking machine. Lying on the table as the machine sucked my dick and took my flow of POZ cum, feeling the warm buzz from the shots, and Dr. Mike – it was all fucking good! Well it was good until Dr. Mike decided to try to finger my ass. I was enjoying my bliss when I realized Dr. Mike had stood up. I felt him pry apart my ass cheeks and I first thought he was just trying to make sure I was lined up with the hole in the table, but then he pushed a finger at my hole and tried to stick his finger in. I craned my neck and twisted my head, “NO! Don’t do that shit!” I said, “I’m a top man OK? I don’t get my ass touched.” Dr. Mike stepped back, a muscle in his jaw twitched, he smiled, “Of course,” he said and sat back down on his stool. What the fuck was that about I wondered. My next visit was two days later on a Friday and I was eager to get hooked up and get my shot. That itchy feeling in my guts was driving me crazy and my balls were aching and full and I needed release. Dr. Mike seemed his usual self when he opened the door. He led me to the room; I quickly got undressed as we made small talk, then Dr. Mike strapped me to the table and hooked up the machine. He came and stood at the end of the table by my head, reached underneath, released a lever and the section where my head was dropped away and I had to hold my head up as I said, “What the fuck doc? I….” Dr. Mike unzipped his pants, pulled out his dick, stepped closer and said, “Open your mouth.” I shook my head, “No, no, I don’t….” He then slapped me, “OPEN YOUR MOUTH! NO, DON’T SUCK IT – YET, FIRST SWALLOW.” Swallow, what did…fuck he started pissing in my throat and as he did he said, “THAT’S IT – SWALLOW MY RANK PISS. SWALLOW MY INFECTED PISS. SWALLOW MY CHEM PISS – CAN YOU TASTE IT? CAN YOU TASTE THE VIRUSES I CARRY? MY TOXIC DICK? GAG ON IT – CHOKE – DROWN YOU IN MY FUCKING PISS!” The more I choked and fought against swallowing, the more Dr. Mike – who had now become Dr. Jekyll – held my head tight and forced his piss down my throat. Much of it came right back out - onto the floor, splattered his pants, my face, but he didn’t let up and made me take what he wanted to give. Once the last drops of piss were vacated from his kidneys, Dr. Mike sighed, stepped back, casually got undressed, then said, “Oh my apologies, here is that better?” as he slid the portion of the table under my head back up so I could rest it on there once again. I sighed in relief as I thought he was going to make me suck him, so clearly what he just did was a momentary lapse. But wait, why was he naked? Dr. Mike walked over to the table, grabbed a syringe, walked back and I noticed his dick was now hard, about 9-inches, thick, and every vein was bulging out like it was on steroids. He set the syringe by my arm, checked each strap, then sat on his stool and rolled in front of the milking machine. He flipped it on and immediately I yelped as he cranked the suction up. Dr. Mike spun on his stool, “Now now. Remember – RELAX – and I think we will try a new treatment today – something a little more natural to gauge if that influences your semen output.” The orgasms started to roll over me as the suction machine tugged on my dick and exhumed the AIDS semen from my balls. I moaned, and then stopped as Dr. Mike stood up, walked over to the table, climbed up on it and lay on my back. His face was now next to mine as his hard dick pressed into my ass and his hands reached down and back to pull my cheeks apart from each side. “PAYMENT IS DUE,” Dr. Mike said, “YOU WILL NOW BE CHARGED YOUR CO-PAY FOR EVERY BOTTOM I HAVE LET YOU FUCK AND INFECT. FOR EVERY GALLON OF SPERM I HAVE ALLOWED YOU TO UNLEASH. FOR EVERY DROP OF DRUGS I HAVE GIVEN YOU. I WILL FUCK YOU AND GIVE YOU MY OWN TOXIC SPERM!” I whimpered and pleaded, “No, you can’t, I’m sorry for...for whatever it is you think I…that I did. I’m sorry, just don’t, please. I’m not a bottom! I don’t get fucked! I’m a top!” Dr. Mike chuckled, his dick head nudged at my puckered ass, and he replied, “Correction – you WERE a top,” and then I screamed as he ripped my hole open with his raw dick and started to fuck me dry and hard. “YOUR LIFE IS NO LONGER YOUR OWN – IT IS IN MY HANDS NOW – AND WE WILL SEE IF YOU ARE WORTHY,” Dr. Mike growled as he took my cherry and fucked me. I was a grown fucking man and men don’t cry, but tears were liberally coming out of my eyes as I fought the pain, the confusion, the mix of feelings of what was happening versus the waves of pleasure shooting out from my dick as the machine sucked out my never-ending stream of cum. I did manage to blubber out, “But…I thought you said this was free?” Dr. Mike laughed, “NO, I SAID – AND YOU SIGNED THE FORM CONFIRMING – THERE WAS NO MONETARY PAYMENT DUE, WHICH IS VERY DIFFERENT THAN ANYTHING BEING FREE. THERE IS ALWAYS A PRICE TO PAY AND I BELIEVE YOU WILL FIND THIS PAYMENT FAR BETTER THAN IF I SHARED ALL THE EVIDENCE I HAVE WITH THE AUTHORITIES THAT SHOWS YOU RAPED AN UNCONSCIOUS AND ‘UNWILLING’ YOUNG MAN UNDER MY CARE, QUITE BRUTALLY MATTER OF FACT.” Dr. Mike lifted off me slightly, pulling his dick out of my ass and as I clenched my hole back tight he slammed back in and said, “EVERY MAN NEEDS TO FEEL WHAT IT IS LIKE TO SUBMIT, TO PLEASURE ANOTHER MAN, TO TAKE WHAT IF OFFERED. THIS WILL MAKE YOU A BETTER TOP – IF YOU EVER HAVE THAT CHANCE AGAIN - AND WELL MY VENOM WILL REMAKE YOU AS I HAVE MADE OTHERS. YOU CANNOT IMAGINE WHAT I HAVE UNLEASHED ON THE WORLD AND WHILE I NORMALLY DON’T FIND PLEASURE IN SOMEONE WHO IS ALREADY INFECTED, I THINK WE SHALL BENEFIT EACH OTHER. NOW TAKE MY TOXIC CUM UP YOUR ASS – FEEL MY INFECTIONS INVADE YOUR BLOODSTREAM!” As Dr. Mike bred me with his load, my body exploded in the biggest orgasm I had ever had and I knew I was filling the sucking machine tube with a massive quantity of cum. I was breathing hard when Dr. Mike – now standing beside the machine, his evil deed done – inspected the volume of POZ nutt I had produced so far. He turned, smiled, “I believe we have found a better way to force your body to produce the volume of semen I believe it capable of.” He then climbed back up on the table and mounted me again. Sometime later I came to. I wasn’t on the milking table anymore. Where was I? It took me a moment to get my bearings, as my head was all addled, my thoughts mixed and jumbled, the pain in my ass incredible, my pelvic muscles sore and aching. Once I finally did I realized with shock and horror that I was still at Dr. Mike’s office, but now I was strapped to the fuck bench that the bottoms I fucked were usually tied to. I realized I was tied as well – just like them – and I also had the leather hood over my head. In addition, when I tried to cry out I couldn’t. Something large and somewhat pliable had been inserted into my mouth and tied to my head – what I would come to know later was a ball gag. I grunted, struggled, I heard a faint noise and Dr. Mike walked into view, his white lab coat on, the rest of him naked, his brutal dick still looking mean and hard. “Ah good, I see you are awake. I was concerned that maybe Dr. Collins at might have gotten the dosage just a tad off,” Dr. Mike said, “But no, I can always count on him. I can count on all of those I have made and created. Did you know that I was the first man to ever fuck him too? Of course you didn’t, but I was. Him and many many others. Like you, I need to satisfy my base urges and needs and well – tonight you have helped in a small way with that. Now where we were – ah yes, here you chart says…. One moment please.” I turned my head to see Dr. Mike leave the room and I struggled with all my might against the straps then stopped as soon as I saw him come back. He opened the folder back up, “Apologies for the interruption. Yes the chart says that when you first visited me you were NEGATIVE for other STDs. Let me just update that now to reflect syphilis, gonorrhea, herpes of the mouth, anus, and penis, and a few others. What? I see by the shaking of your head you disagree? Well in short, some of these I have given you myself, some I used swabs and vials of disease vectors etc… as the source materials, and the rest, well….You shall see.” Dr. Mike set the folder down, his cold hands grabbed my hips, and he slammed back into my torn and bloodied hole. “DO YOU FEEL THAT? DOES IT FEEL LIKE A 100 LITTLE NAILS PIERCING YOU WITH EVERY THRUST? I MUST SAY YOUR ANAL CANAL WAS MOST RESISTANT TO MY INITIAL INVASION, BUT WE HAVE RESOLVED THAT. FEEL HOW YOUR ASS RING SPLITS AND OPENS WHEN I SLAM IN? ALSO AS I EXPECTED, YOUR HYPERSPERMIA HAS ELEVATED YOUR SEMEN PRODUCTION AND I HAVE HAD TO PLACE EXTRA MEDICAL PADS BELOW YOU TO ABSORB THE COPIOUS SPERM NOW FLOWING FROM YOUR DICK EVERY TIME I ENTER YOUR ASS.” I moaned, tensed, Dr. Mike angled his dick and started to pound at one spot, “AH YES – FEEL THAT? I SPENT EXTRA TIME SCRAPING AT THAT SPOT WITH A MEDICAL INSTRUMENT – AND LET’S SEE – RGHT ABOUT – OH YES, THERE. RIGHT THERE TOO. GOOD, GOOD. ARE YOU READY FOR SOME MORE DISEASE? TO ABSORB SOME MORE TOXIC CUM? TO BECOME THE CUMP DUMP THAT YOU HAD HOPED TO FIND ONE DAY? TAKE MY DEATH SENTENCE – TAKE IT – YOUR LIFE IS GONE AND YOU ARE NOTHING MORE THAN JUST ANOTHER FILE IN MY CABINET!” A few grunts and thrusts and Dr. Mike finished depositing the latest of I had no idea then of how many loads inside me and as he sighed in satisfaction and yanked his dick out, a new voice said, “Jesus Christ your are a sick fuck just like always Dr. Mike.” I tried to turn my head to see who was speaking, but could not identify the person and knew it was not Dr. Collins. Dr. Mike chuckled, walked into my field of vision with the folder, grabbed one of his stools, sat down, rolled it closer and recited the introduction like he had made this speech often, “I have decided your next treatment needs to be more, shall we say, extreme. My friend Charles back there has a true horse dick. I am big, but even I am in awe of Charles’ piece of meet which is over 11 inches and VERY thick.” The sound of belts, buckles, and clothes being set on a metal chair touched my ears and a throaty laugh in agreement to that last statement. Dr. Mike continued, “Even better, Charles is a brutal nasty fucker who likes to walk around with a constant case of gonorrhea, and thanks to Charles, he and I are both sharing that little gift right now. Charles has helped me ensure a number of asses received the venom they deserved and delights in the chemical pleasures. You shall experience needles, powders, smokes, and more. I am ever amazed at the drug forms he finds and forces onto our victims. He is also HIV + of course, with a high viral load and not just HIV, Charles has full blown AIDs. He is a true AIDs fucker. So, let me introduce you to Charles, your new Leather Lord and owner.” My what? What the fuck? A leather-gloved hand smacked my right ass cheek hard as a big man walked up and stood beside Dr. Mike. At that moment I could not have told you a thing about what he looked like as the only thing I noticed or could focus on was his monster horse dick that had a Prince Albert (PA) piercing through the head that looked like it was big enough to be a bracelet on a wrist. I stared as Charles spoke, “Lesson 1 – never speak unless spoken to and then only to say YES SIR or HARDER MASTER. You only got 4 words in your vocabulary now.” I could not have replied if I wanted to with the ball gag still in my mouth. Dr. Mike looked up, “Do you wish me to knock him out for his first treatment? Dr. Collins left a couple of extra doses just in case.” Charles laughed, stroked his hard dick, “No way. You know I like to hear them scream.” I shivered, my heart started to race. Dr. Mike made a note in his folder, “Oh I do, but you will have years for that. Shall we compromise? You know of course you will need to inject him before you leave - and again, my condolences on the loss of your boy Roger. Such insolence is intolerable and good that you were able to find him a new home as a castrated mare at the Breeder’s Market.” Charles spoke with a deep sadness, “Yeah, we had been together a long time, but hell, time for some new pussy to bleed and infect. I think I will call this one Roger too. Monogrammed towels and all you know – HA! You sure no one will miss him?” With the chart in hand, Dr. Mike scanned his notes, “No one at all. Lionel and his crew from the Breeder’s Market are already at his place cleaning it out and dealing with his accounts – financial, online, and otherwise. He has no immediate family and his employer has been notified of his unfortunate accidental heroin overdose and his admission into a treatment program, which sometime during the night he ran away from and no one knows where has gone. His medical team and the authorities can only assume he is in an alley someplace trying to get high and most likely has left the city.” WHAT THE FUCK – NO NO NO I TRIED TO CRY OUT – WHAT THE FUCK? A leather glove slapped my face hard, my nose started to bleed, Dr. Mike, got up grabbed his iPad off the table, sat back on the stool and rolled over closer. He smiled, tapped the iPad, swiped, and up on the screen popped – me.“….being of sound mind I consent to all treatments for my heroin addiction…..” I was confused. I didn’t remember making that, I didn’t say that! I never have done...would never have…shit! Charles had gone behind me and started eating my fucked out ass – his beard scratching my skin, his teeth sinking into my flesh, his gloved hands clawing at me. Dr. Mike put his face close to mine. Charles rose from eating me out and then rape slammed his 11-inch dick into my ass ripping me anew with his horsemeat and PA making me scream into the ball gag. Dr. Mike then said, “You really should read all the forms you sign.” (*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!) (The Breeder’s Market and Dr Mike: Biohazard and Healer –story links may be found here - https://breeding.zone/topic/34692-dr-mike-biohazard-story-links/#comment-384265 )

One man’s blessing is another man’s curse and for me I’ve got more than my share – an extra long dick (just over 10 inches), an extra wide dick (just shy of 8 inches round), and I shoot cum like a farm animal (up to ¼ of a cup a time). Truly. The dick? Well that’s thanks to my father for sure who was even bigger than me and the cum? Well I don’t know, could be him too, but the doctors call it Hyperspermia - a condition in which a man can ejaculate a massive volume of semen and and extra bonus is it comes with a high sex drive - thus my continuous frustration. Sex for me has almost always been a series of one frustrated encounters after another. Fucking size queens hit me all the time bragging how they can take me, how they love big dick, how they want my cum – that is until I split their hole open with just the few inches and then they fucking tap out and run. I’ve never worn condoms; my hyperspermia makes that impossible as the amount of precum I produce makes my dick so wet and slick they won’t stay on. That’s how I got AIDs – splitting bottoms open. I learned quickly a little blood was a given, a lot was expected and for me, doesn’t bother me in the least. For the bottom? Yeah they freak and make me stop. So to get by and try to relieve my constant need to nutt, I’ve sold condoms online full of my cum, made some pay-to-play solo porn flicks of me shooting, escorted trying to give facials or creampies, sold batches of my load to a fertility clinic, and I even created a Tumblr account talking about my curses and thinking I’d document those bottoms I found who could take me and wanted my POZ load. None of that really helped or panned out in the end. Just wasn’t the same. Have I fucked and bred a guy totally before. Yeah, of course, but few and far between and so I mostly have to be satisfied with a little oral, a little ass around the tip of my dick, then finishing off when I am home and alone. I want more, I need more, I need to breed and infect some ass and fill a bottom’s guts full of my cum – why else would God have given me what he did? I had frankly about given up until one day when I received an email: “Good afternoon. I am Dr. Mike. My practice has recently begun a new treatment regimen for some of my patients that I believe you are perfect for. I have many years of developing specialized, treatment regimens for my patients and would like to invite you to come to my office on Monday at 3:00 p.m. for a consultation. There is no fee for the visit or treatment regimen. Please refrain from all sexual activity for at least 48-hours prior to the visit so I can fully assess the volume of your semen output and your ability to ejaculate more than once for comparison purposes.” OK, I wasn’t exactly sure how this Dr. Mike thought he could help me since no one else had ever been able to. I tried to find what I could online about Dr. Mike and there was the standard fare, but his medical specialties did include treatment of HIV, AIDs, and other infectious diseases. What was surprising was how little there was about him. Most doctors these days have social media and site after site. Not this Dr. Mike. He was almost like a ghost – almost – but in digging through some chat rooms on the dark web I did come across a series of stories that mentioned Dr. Mike doing some pretty twisted, fucked up shit that made my dick drool and bounce and I quickly emailed him back to confirm I would be there. Dr. Mike’s office was located in Northeast Washington, DC, in an older brick building. I got to the office and rang the bell as the office was closed for the day. I waited a few minutes and then heard the locks turn, the door opened, and I was met by a man in white coat. Dr. Mike was in his mid 40s I guess, about 5”11, 180, and fairly clean cut looking and I thought handsome. He shook my hand, asked me to step inside, and locked the door. I then followed him through another door and down a hall and his office was like the rest of the building, older and somewhat run down looking. Near the end of the hall he stopped and motioned me to enter an exam room that was somewhat bare except for an odd table contraption bolted to the middle of the floor that was occupied by an apple assed guy. The guy was kneeling on a small bench part of the exam table on a pillow, with his chest on the table, his arms forward and his head resting on its side. A leather hood was strapped to his head, hiding his features and all that could be seen were closed eyes, his nostrils, and mouth that was slightly agape, relaxed. Leather straps wound around his calves, thighs, and he looked like a big Z splayed out. The next thing I noticed were several Polaroid Cube cameras attached to the metal table and on several small tripods all pointed to the guy’s ass from various angles. Yet, that was not the strangest part. I hesitated as I looked at the IV pole that was at the end of the odd table next to a set of monitors being watched by another man in a white coat who wore a medical mask that was inflating and deflating against his face as he breathed in and out. The other man was speaking softly to the guy on the table, “Time to dream little man.” I turned to the squeak of a metal stool being rolled away from a small table as Dr. Mike pointed to a chair by the door and said, “Please disrobe and sit in the chair here please.” I looked from him, to the other man, to the bottom. I was confused about what was going on but the sight of the that naked body looking like a sacrifice on an altar stirred my deep, dark desires and needs. I sat down in the chair, my naked ass sticking to the leather seat as Dr. Mike rolled himself close and flipped open a manila folder. “Normally I would want to do a full set of labs myself and an exam, but I received a copy of your medical file from your previous doctor and well – both your HIV and hyperspermia are well documented so I figured we should dispense with such pleasantries and get right to it.” My dick started to lengthen. Dr. Mike motioned to guy on the table, “Most gay men wait too long to get tested for rectal cancer. It is best to start young and technology now allows us to test in the office with High Resolution Anoscopy, but it does require anesthesia – a special cocktail of Fentanyl, Ketamine, Propofol, and a few other medications.” What the fuck? I knew what those drugs were, well at least I had heard of them and I looked again at the man in the white coat and the guy on the table. Fuck! They had drugged him and knocked him out! Dr. Mike set the open folder partially on my right leg, my dick now hardening more and stretching down my left. He started to ask me a series of questions and I hesitated and looked at the other man. Dr. Mike followed my gaze, shifted his stool to block my view, set his hand on my thigh in a reassuring manner and said, “Do not mind Dr. Collins,” and with that continued his questions and making the appropriate notes in his folder. “Are you currently off all meds?” I lied and said, “No.” Dr. Mike paused; frowned a little, set his pen in the crease of the folder and with his right hand reached out and grabbed the shaft of my now hard dick. “I need you to be totally honest with me if you please,” he said, “Unlike other doctors you may have seen in the past I need the unvarnished truth and not an answer that you think should be given or that you erroneously believe I may wish to hear. Understand?” I nodded and he asked again, “Are you currently off all meds?” This time I answered honestly and said, “Yes and no. I take them sometimes because…well I had read that if you do that then you can become resistant, and I just wanted to…I...” Dr. Mike smiled, made a note in his file, set his pen back in the folder and reached out again and this time slowly stroked my dick a couple times as he said, “Thank you for being honest. Yes, you can build a resistance and I will draw some blood so we can order a genotype test to confirm exactly which meds you are resistant too and then plan accordingly.” I moaned as his touch made me lose focus, but I blurted, “Yeah but I don’t want to take… or be…I…” Dr. Mike smiled, leaned in a little, stroked my dick a little faster and said, “Oh you misunderstand. Our goal is to INCREASE your resistance and viral count. That is what you want isn’t it?” What the fucking kind of doctor was he? My dick answered for me as it started to drool. The questions from Dr. Mike continued, “Do you use any recreational drugs? Willing to do others? Known STDs besides AIDs? Do you have receptive anal intercourse? Penetrated a bottom fully against his will? I imagine it is difficult given your size. Let me see – yes – I expect only a bottom with years of fisting could naturally take you.” Dr. Mike’s stroking skills were superior, that’s for sure yet somehow I don’t think he learned that in medical school. Dr. Mike continued with his list of questions and it was increasingly difficult to focus. Apparently satisfied, he closed the folder, rolled back over to the small table, grabbed an iPad, flipped opened the cover and showed me a video that had been paused. “This is Lucas,” Dr. Mike said as he tapped the video and it started to play. There was a yellow sticky note on the screen covering the person’s head, but from the wisps of hair that showed and the clothed body whose size seemed to match the guy on the table, appeared to be a shy twink of a guy - young but legal. Lucas had recorded a message verbally affirming he was legal, and his willing to submit to all ‘treatments and procedures’ as prescribed by Dr. Mike and Dr. Collins on that date, among the other stand release and approval statements. The video finished and Dr. Mike said, “I can assure you that the person in the video is the same as the one currently being monitored by Dr. Collins. Patient confidentiality requires that his face be covered even though you are now part of his treatment team. You understand? This is totally anonymous. You will never know his identity, nor he yours.” At the word ‘anonymous’ my dick spasmed and a long line of nutt drool proceeded down my thigh. Dr. Mike smiled in a way that held no warmth or humor. He then tapped the iPad screen a couple times, swiped, and I could hear sound as another video started. Dr., Mike adjusted the sticky note then turned the iPad around so I could see. In this one, the guy was naked, his arms out wide as he did slow turns that showed his hot ass and tiny twink dick. He paused facing the camera and began to speak in the same voice as the first video. The twink stated his first name, stats, and this time the message release statement was not the kind found on any standard form: “My name is Lucas Si…just Lucas. I am of sound mine and judgment and confirm that I have asked for a no limits fuck today. I am aware I may be unconscious and unable to provide further consent, but I DO consent. Totally. I want this. I want to get rape fucked by some big dick and be a total cum dump. Have totally been fantasizing about it for like forever and… well…so today it may happen – I mean will happen. No one is forcing me to do this. I am volunteering and WANT it. I also want it raw, no condoms at all, and understand the guy or guys who may fuck me might HIV+ or whatever. I don’t care. That shit don’t matter to me whatever they got. It’s all good. I’m on PREP so it’s all good. I just…hell! Is that good? Can we get this shit started? I’m horny as shit and need some dick!” Dr. Mike smiled that dark smile again and said, “As you can see. All legal bases are covered no mattered what may come. I am quite proficient in working within the boundaries set by my profession as well as expanding those boundaries as needed. One final note. What would you say – hypothetically of course –if there was an individual such as say someone like this young man you just saw on the video who in their mind can only imagine something like a big hit of G? Imagine how they would feel after the fact becoming aware of the full extent of the ‘party hole’ they went down. Also – hypothetically – wouldn’t it be a shame if the same young man BELIEVED they were on PREP when actuality they were on a placebo combo as part of a blind drug trial they had previously consented to? Especially one in which the results had shown rampant degradation of their immune systems due to other factors prescribed as part of their treatment regimen?” Damn! This was one fucked up doctor and with every word my dick pulsed and continued to stream more precum. I was stunned. I didn’t know what to say or what to do, but my dick did as Dr. Mike reached out, wrapped his warm hand around my pulsing shaft, and expertly stroked it. “I know you have tried to find bottoms that would allow you to POZ them, that would allow you to flood them with your fountain of death,” he said with a calm voice full of confidence in every statement. “I know you have no qualms making a bottom bleed. I know you always hold back when you have intercourse – physically in the act as well as in your ejaculation. That is unhealthy and as your physician, I must provide a treatment regiment that will ensure your full well-being.” I leaned back in the chair and moaned in pleasure as Dr. Mike’s fingers deftly worked my dick as he continued, “You have been given a gift – many gifts – and those gifts need to be shared – and so I offer the first of but many cum dumps for you to use, to mark, to infect, to enjoy in ways you never imagined possible.” I groaned again and licked my lips as my breathing got faster and my heart started to race. Dr. Mike suddenly released his grip on my dick, rolled his stool to the side, grabbed another clipboard, held out a pen with a disarming smile, but an evil glint in his eyes and said, “These are the consent forms for your treatment. Sign and date here – initial here – there.” He flipped the page, “This page affirms that there is no monetary payment due, however there is a co-pay of no consequence that we will address later.” I couldn’t put pen to paper fast enough and once the forms were signed, Dr. Mike rolled his stool back, set the clipboard down, stood up, gestured towards the waiting ass with his left hand and said, “My patient is waiting,” before he calmly walked over and stood by the tied up bottom. Nervously I stood up and followed: my raging dick leading the way and dripping my toxic cum in long drools with every step. Just inches from the unconscious bottom I realized how my dick was perfectly aligned with his waiting hole as if…as if Dr. Mike knew my exact height and other measurements and had planned accordingly. But how? Dr. Mike just smiled and nodded as I tentatively stepped closer, my flesh pressing against the bottom’s. I turned to Dr. Mike who said nothing, but just nodded. I gently reached out and inserted my right index finger between the waiting mounds of twink flesh. His ass crack was totally hairless, as was the rest of his body – whether natural or manicured – it did not matter, it was sexy as fuck! I slid my finger against his puckered ass ring and with but the slightest effort of pressure it slowly opened and sucked my finger in to the hilt. No resistance, no squirming, no fighting. The bottom suddenly let out a low, guttural moan and I yanked my finger back in surprise and shock. Dr. Mike just chuckled and with his hands still clasped in front of him like he was monitoring a science experiment of no regard, he turned to Dr. Collins and ordered, “A little more if you please.” Dr. Collins flooded the IV input with a wave of milky white slumber. Dr. Mike turned and looked at me expectantly. I had never really fucked in front of an audience and the whole situation was beyond fucking strange. Dr. Mike held out his hands, palms up in an apologetic gesture and said, “Given the current treatment, at least this time, I must be here to attend my patients – you and him. In the future – if you decide to continue under my care – I expect that will not be necessary and only Dr. Collins will need to monitor such aspects of your visits. However, my plan for treatment is that – based on your performance – hypothetically of course, that a first treatment may be such as we have today with the patient totally unaware and unconscious. Next time, maybe it will be a lighter sleep. The time after, maybe semi-conscious, but still restrained. The time after that? Who knows? You may find that having your way with someone completely restrained yet fully conscious is more to your – shall we say medical needs?” There was that fucking dark smile again. Dr. Mike was an evil, twisted, son of a bitch and part of me wanted to be just like him! I needed to fuck. I needed to breed that ass and knowing he was knocked out, anonymous, NEG, and that I might infect him sent me to the fucking moon! I stepped closer, lining my dick head with Lucas’ asshole. No, no names – this was just some cum dump – some dirty bottom willing to take any raw dick and I planned to POZ him good. This time I jammed three fingers all at once at that ass ring and just like before it opened, but damage was done. Dr. Mike issued a small chuckle and “Yes!” as I dug my nails into the bottom’s hole, harder and harder, over and over, yearning to break through the walls of his drug induced state to hear him moan in pain and beg for mercy. That never happened, which only spurred me on to finger fuck his hole rougher. I glanced to the side to see Dr. Mike adjust his own hard dick and I smiled. Yeah, that’s right, I could be as twisted as he was, just watch. This bottom would remember the day I bred him and when I finally pulled my fingers out they were nice and red. I then started to slap his ass – full on arm swings – and those apple cheeks went from white, to pink, to red, to shades of purple in no time. God damn I wanted to bust right then! My hand hurt from slapping him so hard and yet not a single moan or sound escaped those pink little lips that protruded from the leather hood over his head. While Dr. Mike was clearly into it, Dr. Collins seemed oblivious and totally focused on his patient and the monitors. Fine by me. I took a step back, slid my right hand up and down my shaft a few times to coat my death rod with my POZ, sticky precum, wiped my hands on the bottom’s sides, then grabbed the two biggest handfuls of flesh that I could and squeezed and dug in. I PAUSED, LOOKED AT DR. MIKE, AND AS HE MET MY EYES I SLAMMED MY DICK THROUGH THE BOTTOM’S OUTER HOLE AND BURIED MYSELF INSIDE HIM! The bottom’s body made no movement at all as I ripped him open. The pillow beneath his legs became stained. While I expected to see the waves of pain ripple through his body, his ass never clenched, never tried to push me out, never fought back. Somewhere between his fresh stab wounds and his brain all nerve impulses just faded away – thank you Dr. Collins! I clenched his flesh tighter in my grasp. I wanted him to be bruised, sore, and it was time to rape some ass. I grunted and growled as I pulled out and slammed all 10-inches+ of my raw dick into my victim’s hole and the more it got wet, the harder I fucked. My balls were bursting, ready to breed and infect this cum dump. My fountain of death was ready to explode like Deep Water Horizon and forever alter the world! I PICKED UP MY PACE, AND FUCKED AS HARD AS I COULD. I WANTED TO RAPE THAT ASS – HURT IT – INFECT IT – BREED IT – FILL HIS GUTS WITH MY LOAD! DR. MIKE WAS RIGHT – I HAD MANY GIFTS AND THIS BOTTOM WOULD GET THEM ALL AND AS I LOOKED DOWN AND SAW MY RED-COATED DICK I LOST IT – FROZE – AND SHOOK AS MY HYPERSPERMIA DELIVERED WHAT FELT LIKE A QUART OF INFECTED AIDS NUTT INTO THAT BOTTOM’S SHREDDED ASS. Oh yeah, in addition to shooting a lot in volume, my orgasm – my real orgasm which have been few and far between – seem to last for fucking ever and by the time my dick stopped spurting and I was able to let go of the flesh clenched in a death grip in my hands, I felt like I would pass out. With my dick still inside his unwilling hole, and streams of ass juice and my cum frothing out around my semi-hard dick, I flopped on top of the twink’s body feeling utterly satisfied for the maybe the first time ever. Dr. Mike was behind me, pressed his body against my naked ass and reached out and laid his right hand on my chest, “Please, if you could just stand back up, we do not want to impede his breathing.” Oh shit! Something about his touch, his body pressed to mine, the feel of his hard dick through his pants … fuck I don’t know – set me off again and I started blowing another load up that bottom’s hole without even another stroke. This one racked me to my bones and every spasm that burned through my body was felt by Dr. Mike who moaned and held me as I POZZED that ripped up ass all over again! When my balls were finally drained, my dick slid out of that beaten hole like a python that had just gorged on a herd of goats and was ready for a long nap. Dr. Mike stepped back, wiped his hands one against the other, smiled and said, “There. Now if you please. Get dressed and I will see you back here next Monday, same time,” and with that he left. (*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!) (Dr Mike: Biohazard and Healer – all story links here - https://breeding.zone/topic/34692-dr-mike-biohazard-story-links/#comment-384265 )

The Freshman 10, Part 3: Loving Daddy or Stalker?: Mr. Durant’s raw dick had left my hole throbbing as he had slammed it into me dry while his son - Kevin - had run out to the car. So much had happened so fast. I started college, met Kevin, spent an amazing night with him and then...well then his father sent Kevin off on some bullshit job assignment so he could spend the night fucking me raw and breeding me. Kevin’s red Cadillac ELR sports coupe barreled down the highway as we headed back to campus for our first class of the day. He kept reaching over and squeezing my hand, holding it tight as a silent, “I had fun, let’s fuck again.” I liked Kevin - ALOT! But I felt like I could still smell his father on me, that I could still feel Mr. Durant’s dick shooting his cum in me, that I could feel his big, strong hands holding me aloft as he pierced my ass with his BBC. My guilt was giving me a mind fuck and Kevin could tell something was up. He clearly thought he had done something wrong, or somehow I didn’t like him as much as he liked me or whatever. None of which was true it was just…fuck…I was so confused about it all! Even before we hit campus my phone started blowing up. There were several texts from a blocked number and as we walked from the car to our first class I opened the first one and about dropped the phone: “Good boy pussy – you want more daddy dick?” How the fuck did Kevin’s dad get my number? The texts continued: “I know your hole is twitching from my dick. I popped that pussy OPEN! I know you will be thinking about me breeding you deep all day! I’m smoking a cigar, thinking about that pussy juice coating the tip, stroking my shaft, making it hard for you.” I started to shake – need, fear, desire – all wrapped up together. The next text came and this time it was a pic and I blurted “FUCK!” and that time the phone did slip from my fingers, but luckily I managed to bend down and snatch it off the grass before Kevin could or else he would have seen the latest message from his father: Kevin and I were almost inseparable and frankly not having him there to rely on would have made things so much harder. Our second day together – the one after his father had bred me without him knowing – Kevin volunteered to come back to my house when I declined his invitation to go home with him again. I hesitated but looking in those damn gorgeous eyes of his I melted and caved and agreed. Only when we were stepping upon the porch of my student group house did I start panicking. My roommates – whom I barely knew – didn’t know I was into guys. They frankly knew nothing about me and I knew nothing about them and our only engagement so far had been a few days of nervous, “Morning, how are you?” as we passed each other in the hall on the way to the overused bathroom. Within seconds of stepping in the door, his hand confidently in mine, Kevin had charmed the entire house with his joyous smile, easy personality, and fucking to-die-for good looks. Not one of my housemates paused, hesitated, or batted an eye as he and I stood there hand in hand. Proud – together – man to man. My next level of stress came as we walked up the stairs and I led Kevin into my sparse room. After his place mine looked like a fucking shit hole with a few milk crates for shelves, an old mattress on the floor, a Salvation Army Store lamp with a bulb that flickered on and off and no shade, and what few belongings I truly owned in a couple of cardboard boxes in the corner. None of that mattered to Kevin for as soon as I closed the door to my room he dropped his backpack, which made a THUD on the old wood floors, and immediately began to undress. I frantically looked around – I was not prepared at all for something like this, I didn’t even have fuck towels or something. Kevin just smiled, “Come on, get on your bed and show me that white ass – I’ve been horny as fuck all day.” When I sheepishly apologized I didn’t have lube or anything Kevin laughed, “Awesome man! Spit fucking’s the best!” With that, Kevin proceeded to slick his dick up with copious wads of spit as I hesitated, but gave in to my need to get some dick. “WANT MY NUTT?” Kevin asked as he banged me on my old mattress on the floor. I was so concerned my roommates would hear I just moaned softly, but he got the message and proceeded to seed my hole. I returned the favor and as I blew my own load up his tight ass got lost in the dark expanse of his eyes, wondering how all this had happened to me – so soon, so fast, so good! The rest of the week passed in a blur as I settled into my new routines at the university and did my best to ignore the almost constant stream of blocked number texts, which were companioned by a similar stream of unknown sender emails to my personal email account – the first of which was just a picture: After that I stopped opening emails, too afraid of what I might find. I did draft a few emails I thought I might send in response – some were to tell Mr. Durant to fuck off, some to tell him how much I enjoyed the sex, but we could never do it again. I never pressed SEND as I could not make up my mind, and instead created a password protected file on my laptop where I wrote the whole thing down as best as I could remember thinking that if I did so, it would help me figure out what to do. Did it? No. It just made me more confused and mad horny and Kevin didn’t mind the horny part! Kevin was with me every day before class, after class, and in between classes we didn’t have together. We spent every second we could together. I had never felt this way about anyone and within just a few days could not imagine my life without him. We shared so many interests and just clicked at every level and the sex – fuck the sex – was God damn amazing! After the second day together I forgot all about his father. OK, well maybe not FORGOT as the cyber stalking from his father was an almost constant presence, but I was in total denial and just so focused on the moment with Kevin it was like a bad itch I refused to scratch. Kevin had even asked and texted me several times about spending the weekend at his house and shamefully I lied. I didn’t know what else to do or how to avoid the situation. I told him I needed to go see my parents, but I didn’t. I just planned to hide in my room all weekend as my way of avoiding his father until I could figure out how to handle it. That all changed on Friday. My last class of the day, and Kevin’s too, was a course in Valuation and Corporate Finance. Kevin was still bugging me about coming home with him for the weekend and while he had been sweet, kind, considerate, and more than patient with my brush offs and excuses all week including my story about having to go visit my parents. I knew I would have to face this sooner or later. I had decided to tell him after class what had happened. Everything. How his father had fucked me, bred me, how I had let him, all of it. I knew he would never want to see me again, but…well…I could not live this way anymore. My future with Kevin meant I had to be honest – warts or bad daddies and all. You can imagine my surprise when Kevin did not show up to class. My cell phone buzzed about 10 minutes in: “Got called to Lockheed. Major probs bro. Project has gone sideways. Won’t be able to give you a ride home so asked my Dad to pick you up. See you soon!” Shit. Shit shit shit shit! No fucking way. I was not able to focus on what the prof said the rest of the class. When we finished, I followed the herd out the door and onto the commons and stopped short. There, standing casually against the right fender of a navy blue sedan was Kevin’s dad in all his fucking glory! Mirrored shades, gold watch, rings, dress pants and shirt, and his arms crossed as he waited. FUCK! I was not the only one to stop and stare as Mr. Durant was catching the eye of every boy and girl on campus who walked by. But even through the mirrored shades I shivered, knowing his eyes were laser focused on me. I wanted to run, hide, and pretend this was not real. Yet, before I knew it I was walking towards him and with each step his smile got wider. “GET IN THE CAR BOY,” was all he said. Mr. Durant’s car – well at least the one he was driving then as I knew he had several from what I saw parked in his driveway and garage, was an old sedan built of heavy, solid material much like him. It felt attached to the ground somehow, hefty and intense, and when I slid into the well tended leather seats and shut the door I noticed the polished silver metal ashtray built into the door handle ledge. You sure don’t see that anymore. The chrome of the window crank was spotless, as was the rest of the car. Mr. Durant revved the engine, put it into drive, and as we drove away from campus I continued to appreciate the fine workmanship, the attention to restoration and detail, and then I saw the wicker picnic basket in back. “Grab me a beer from the cooler. Right there behind the seat,” Mr. Durant ordered. I wanted to state the obvious about drinking and driving, but had more immediate concerns on my mind like where the fuck were we going and what was he going to say because I didn’t answer his texts or emails? I then realized this was not my way home! Kevin’s daddy popped the beer and drained it in nothing flat as he drove down the road. He handed me the empty can with a clear ‘get me another look’, so I did. “Why did you lie and tell my son you were going home to see Gene and Judy?” Mr. Durant asked. How the fuck did he know my parents’ name? How did he know what Kevin and I had discussed? All sorts of thoughts ran through my head the first of which was he clearly was reading his son’s texts. I had nothing to say. What was between me and Kevin was none of his business. Unfortunately for me Mr. Durant was having none of that. I then thought about a couple of email messages that I had thought had been from Kevin, from his account, asking me to take a picture of my ass, or tell him how much I loved him fucking me. Now – well, it seemed obvious those were not from Kevin at all. We drove in mostly silence for about 30 minutes and I had no fucking idea where we were except in the country. Mr. Durant pulled his sedan off onto a small side road, then parked at the edge of a clearing that was partially shaded by some trees that appeared to have been transported from a land before time – they were so tall, thick, their bark heavy and gnarled from years of fending off Mother Nature. Mr. Durant climbed out of the car, purposefully strode around the front, opened the passenger side door, and said, “GET THE FUCK OUT OF THE CAR AND SHOW ME THAT WHITE PUSSY. YOU BEEN HIDING THAT CUNT ALL WEEK. TIME FOR A LITTLE BREAKING AND ENTERING – A LITTLE B&E –TEARING UP THAT ASS!” I fought against my desire to be good, to be the man I should be for Kevin, to be honest and true – but I failed, miserably. I eagerly stripped and stood naked before Mr. Durant who just smiled and I knew that his eyes behind those mirrored shades were taking me all in. Now I needed him all in me. I planted my hands firmly on the right front fender, annoyed by the wiry antenna that prevented a full arm spread. Mr. Durant wasted no time in joining my nakedness, spitting on his dick, pressing his hot flesh to mine, and tearing my hole up as he forced himself on me, “YOU JUST A NEEDY BOY – NEEDING DADDY’S DICK TO GO POP IN THAT HOLE – NEEDING THAT DADDY DICK BANGING OUT THAT BOY PUSSY, TAKING THAT CUNT! LET THIS BOOTY WARRIOR UP IN THERE, LET GO THOSE INHIBITIONS, LET MY BLACK DICK TEACH YOU HOW TO SERVE A MANDINGO DADDY RIGHT!” My cries of pain and need were muffled by Mr. Durant’s left hand over my mouth as he fucked me raw, while a flock of crows squawked and cawed and took flight from their roosts in the clearing nearby. Mr. Durant started smacking my ass with one hand in between strokes and I was convinced more than ever he had been reading my emails, texts, and computer files as he said, “I KNOW YOU LIKE IT WHEN I POP THAT PUSSY! LONG DICK THAT ASS – MAKE YOU SQUIRM FOR DADDY AS I OWN THAT CUNT – THAT RIGHT BOY? I KNOW HOW GOOD IT MAKES THAT ASS FEEL AS I PUSH IN INCH AFTER INCH, HARD AND RAW. FILLING YOU UP LIKE YOU NEVER DREAMED POSSIBLE. STRETCHING YOU OUT AS YOU FEEL ME CUM INSIDE. YOU NEVER IMAGINED HAVING A MAN USE YOU – CONTROL YOU – DOWNRIGHT FUCK YOU OUT – THAT IT COULD FEEL SO AMAZING!” For an ‘old’ man he sure the hell had stamina as it was a good 20 minutes later of getting my hole solidly pounded when Mr. Durant proclaimed to the world, “THAT PUSSY READY FOR MY CREAMPIE – SLOPPY CUNT – READY FOR DADDY’S NUTT – SO GOD DAMN OPEN FOR DADDY –THAT’S HOW I KNOW YOU NEED IT, WANT IT, LOVE THAT SHIT! BE CAREFUL WHAT YOU WISH FOR BOY – DADDY’S HERE NOW – YOU WILL GET IT, TAKE IT, TAKE IT! GOOD BOY FOR DADDY – TRYING TO BREAK MY DICK OFF IN THAT PUSSY, FUCKING THAT BOY HOLE WITH MY RAW BBC – FEEL THAT LOAD BLOATING YOU UP? HELL YEAH! EMPTYING MY BALLS IN THAT BOY CUNT!” The rev of a truck engine echoed through the trees as it drove on a road nearby. Having filled me with days’ full of cum, Mr. Durant opened the back door to the car, reached into the picnic basket, pulled out one of his cigars, had me turn around, then stuck it in deep in my freshly nutted hole. He smacked his lips as he lit it, smiled, then spread his legs as he sat on the leather seat, “Back up on my dick. Reach back, guide it in, that’s it, feel that shaft swell as it stretches your ass. Work it while daddy enjoys this pussy juice smoke.” I rode Mr. Durant’s dick up, down, and sideways as he enjoyed his cigar and I enjoyed his black dick heating my insides up. My bliss was interrupted though as Mr. Durant pushed me off, stood up, grabbed the picnic basket, then a blanket from the trunk, and handed them to me and went and stood in front of the car. His arms crossed, his dick still hard and wet, he stood watch as I laid out the blanket, carefully moving any stones or sticks from the area first to make it as comfortable as possible. I opened the basket, set out the boxed sandwiches and fruit, grabbed him another beer and one for myself. It was hard to focus on eating when I could smell him, see his dick just drooling and twitching, and my ass was trying to respond in kind. My cloth napkin did little to hide my hardon and he did not even try hiding his. With lunch finished, Mr. Durant stood up and monitored me as I packed things back up and when the blanket had been folded he took it, laid it on the hood of the sedan, and in one fell swoop lifted me up and plopped me on my back and slid me right to the edge so my ass was hanging in the air being held up by only his firm grip. With nothing but the sweat from our bodies and the load he already gave me, Mr. Durant slammed my hole back open and I sighed. Lying there on his car, the dappled sun dancing across my body as his dick danced around inside me was intense! I moaned and tried lifting my legs and hips back so he could go deeper – that was what I needed and had to have, and he knew it. “YOU NEED DADDY DIGGING DEEPER IN THAT BOY PUSSY? HUNGRY HOLE FOR DADDY. NEXT TIME YOU DON’T GET TO EAT AS I WANT TO GIVE YOU THEM DRY HEAVES FROM CHOKING ON MY DICK. FEED YOU AT BOTH ENDS. ALL YOUR HOLES ARE MINE FOR DADDY’S PLEASURE.” Mr. Durant then shifted his stance, his hips continuing to smack my flesh as he leaned over my prone body and first gently flicked his thick tongue over my pointed nipples, then as they hardened into mini-spikes he gently tugged on first one then the other with his teeth. Then as my nipples grew more flush he started to nibble on them, then gnaw a little, then chew with abandon as he fucked me as hard as he could. I had no idea my nipples and my ass were connected, but it felt like a direct electrical current ran from one to other and he would time his bites with his strokes – my ass would pulse and he would champ down on a nipple as the charge hit my chest, which would boomerang back to my ass in time to meet his 10-inch upstroke. “GOOD BOY, SHOOT FOR DADDY,” Mr. Durant ordered as he paused his oral duties and guided me on, “I CAN FEEL THAT CLIT PULSING, THROBBING ON MY DICK HEAD WHEN I PUSH BY, TRYING TO MAKE THAT PUSSY CREAM AND SQUIRT. CAN YOU SQUIRT FOR DADDY BOY? THAT’S IT, JACK THAT DICK, JACK THAT BOY DICK, LET DADDY SEE YOU SHOOT!” That’s all it took for my freshman balls to unload and stream after stream shot out of my dick, up past my shoulder and went SPLAT on his shiny car hood. The intensity of my orgasm was met head on by his iron horse as he pummeled my pulsing hole, forcing me to continue to spew as he joined me in unloading his own juice. My ass caught every drop of his though, which made for less mess I had to clean up when we were done. Mr. Durant drove me home in silence. I didn’t know what to say. I didn’t know if he was angry, upset, just tired, or what. I so wanted to touch him, to get fucked some more, but to also tell him it could never happen again as I liked Kevin. The words didn’t come out though. Back home in my shabby little room, I rubbed my eyes, laid on my mattress and no matter how much I tried to imagine Kevin it was his father that I saw in my head, that I imagined fucking me as I jerked off into one of my socks. I watched some TV, kept checking my phone to see if Kevin had texted (and secretly hoping his father had), and was disappointed each time. Sleep finally came and some hours later I awoke to the smothering pressure of a large body on top of mine as a big hand covered my mouth and a set of keys were dropped on the wood floor. I squirmed and fought to no avail and then the liquored breath said, “Shhh boy. You be quiet and let daddy fuck you unless you want to get buck wild and let all your roommates know your dirty little secret.” Mr. Durant? How the fuck did he get in my house? Or know which room was mine? Or unlock my bedroom door? Christ what if someone saw him? I could hear the soft thump thump of music playing somewhere in the house as Mr. Durant humped my hole. His was a needy, rough, demanding fuck driven by inebriated lust and I knuckled my fists into the sheets as he tucked me in for the night saying, “TAKE MY CUM BOY, TAKE DADDY’S 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!)

The Freshman 10, Part 2: When Daddy Says Jump: Mr. Durant grabbed the towel that was beside the butter dish, wiped his hand off, pushed me back down with his left hand then pressed it hard into my lower back to make me squat a little. While holding the towel in his right hand, he adjusted the base of his dick and guided the head towards my waiting ass. A little more shifting of bodies and I could feel the thick head begin to push into my buttered up hole. I gasped, the muscles in my ass ring screamed in agony as Mr. Durant tossed the towel onto the granite island and said, “I’ll go slow, I promise.” It sure didn’t feel that way as his dick pushed a little further and the scream now shifted from my ass to my throat – and caught – all that came out was a meek gurgle. “OH HELL YES – THAT PUSSY IS POPPED NOW,” Mr. Durant exclaimed as his dick head broke free of my ass ring and slid forward on its buttery trail. “I BET YOU NEVER IMAGINED THIS WAS THE FRESHMAN 10 YOU HAD TO WORRY ABOUT – POPPING YOU OPEN WITH MY 10 INCHES OF BLACK DICK. I WANT TO FEEL THAT AGAIN, FEEL THAT HOLE GO POP LIKE A WEASEL AROUND MY DICK – OH HELL YES!“ My head was resting on the back of my hand and I lifted it slightly as my ragged breath sounded like I was running a marathon. My watch said 10:45 p.m. and that was about all I could see except for the granite counter top on the island in Mr. Durant’s kitchen as he slid his long, raw, black dick, up my ass. As the butter inside my guts continued to melt, Mr. Durant took full advantage of my slicked-up state and started banging my ass harder, deeper, and long-dicking it. “YOU LIKE THAT BLACK DADDY DICK UP IN THAT PUSSY? LIKE GETTING IT POPPED WHEN I PUNCH FUCK IT? FEELING ME PUSH MY SON’S NUTT DEEPER THAN HE CAN EVER GO? YEAH I CAN FEEL HIS BOY BUTTER IN YOUR HOLE – NICE AND WARM, WETT, AND READY FOR A BASTING. TAKE THAT HWBM DICK IN THAT WHITE ASS – FEEL A HARD WORKING BLACK MAN FUCK YOU RIGHT. NOW EVERY TIME WHEN MY SON STICKS HIS DICK UP INSIDE YOU, YOU ARE GOING TO BE THINKING OF ME – HOW BIG MY DICK IS – HOW MY DICK MAKES YOU FEEL – HOW YOU NEED ME STRETCHING YOU OPEN.” With each stroke I could feel Mr. Durant’s long foreskin ripple back over the bulbous head, and then retreat on the down stroke. Having Kevin fuck me was awesome, but this – well this fucking turned my brain to mush and all I could do was moan and grunt because I knew if I tried to do anything else I would sound like a dumbass – I was truly being fucked silly. Mr. Durant didn’t seem to notice or mind though as he ordered me to push my ass back, arch my fucking back, grab the counter and don’t fucking move. His son was right; daddy was a true task master and at the moment the task at hand was to breed my ass raw, deep, and thorough. My hand slipped on the granite counter top – fucking butter! The floor was slick, the cabinet doors were being splattered with melted butter and ass juice, and I had all I could do to stay in position. “YOU READY FOR YOUR FIRST LOAD OF DADDY’S CUM? SOME HIGH-PROTEIN BBC NUTT? BEG ME TO CREAMPIE THAT PUSSY? BEG ME TO FUCK THAT WHITE TRAP? BEG ME TO SEED YOU WITH SOME SIBLINGS FOR KEVIN – THAT’S IT – YOU WANT TO BE KEVIN’S STEP-MOMMA?” Before I could answer Mr. Durant paused, grunted, jammed my hole as hard as he could, paused, jammed it again, then as he gripped my body with his powerful hands he filled my guts with his daddy seed. His spasm subsided and Mr. Durant yanked his dick out, I gasped, he said, “Lick it clean. Then when you done, clean up this mess and fix me a plate. I worked up and appetite.” I had never really sucked a ‘fresh-from-the-ass’ dick before and gagged a bit, but Mr. Durant was having none of that and force-fed me, all the while instructing me on just what to do. Once he was satisfied with that, he left me on my knees in the kitchen and walked away. I watched as he flicked on the dining room lights, sat in a chair, then ordered, “Bring me a beer and like I said before – and I won’t repeat myself – bring me a plate and clean up that mess.” Serving this dom daddy brought out something in me I had never known before. Did taking his 10-inch dick feel good? Hell yeah! Did having him cum in me feel amazing? Fuck yeah! But beyond that, just his presence, his…fuck I don’t know…just thinking about it makes me all confused and twisted up inside. I thought the sausage might be over cooked, but I dug around, found a plate, silverware, bread, grabbed the butter remnants, and walked a little bowlegged over to Mr. Durant and set them in front of him. He looked at me, I jerked a little and quickly went back to the kitchen and started wiping up the traces of my daddy breeding. At this point the guilt started. I suddenly remembered Kevin, how he was so sweet, how I really really liked him, and knew this would hurt him. It would me. I felt joy, laden with fear, self loathing, paranoia, and in my cleaning I even dug a gap at the bottom of the trash can to hide the paper towels and stuff that held the evidence of our lust and mixed in some old coffee grounds with them for good measure. When I was done, I walked into the dining room to see if Mr. Durant needed anything. His sausage sandwich was done, his beer empty, and when I reached to take the empty plate he grabbed my wrist, spun me around, and in one motion pushed me face down on the dining room table, kicked the chair back, stood up, and slammed his now hard dick back up my ass. “I HAVE NOT HAD FRESH PUSSY LIKE THAT IN A LONG LONG TIME. TOO MANY FUCKING WHORES AROUND. THAT WHITE BOY PUSSY FEELS GOOD THROBBING ON MY BLACK DICK. HOW’S THAT DICK FEEL HUH? HOW’S THE DICK FEEL STRETCHING YOU OUT? HOW’S THAT DICK FEEL GOING WHERE NO DADDY’S GONE BEFORE?” Once again Mr. Durant did not give me time to answer and frankly he didn’t care what I said one way or the other – I was his new fuck puppet and he was going to take full advantage of me and our time alone before his son came home. With his dick still embedded inside me, Mr. Durant stood me up and fuck-walked me down the hall to his office. I caught a glimpse of us bound together as we passed a large mirror in the hallway and couldn’t believe how fucking hot it looked with his black, sweaty, ripped body so entwined over mine. Mr. Durant’s persona changed again as we walked into his office – his inner sanctum – the embodiment of his wealth and success. It felt like he stood straighter, which I didn’t think was possible. It felt like his muscles got more taught and his dick swelled – again I didn’t think that was possible. With his dick still in my ass he deftly fuck-walked me to his desk, picked up his blue tooth earpiece, put it in his ear, wrapped his right arm around my stomach and held me firm as he sat us down in his CEO-style leather chair. I had never sat on a dick like that before and never one that big and I started to squirm, whine, pant, and try to figure out how the fuck I could take it like that. All fighting ceased as Mr. Durant clamped his huge left hand over my face, pressed my head back against his left shoulder, while with his right hand he easily dialed a number on his phone. “Kon’nichiwa,” Mr. Durant said. His grip tightened, I grabbed his forearm in silent protest and met nothing but resistant muscle. The conversation was short, and when he finished he eased his grip and said, “It’s the early afternoon in Tokyo. The call was already scheduled. Now where were we? Oh yes, you giving up that white pussy.” I was silent as a mute again as Mr. Durant took charge of my hole. With my face plastered on the papers that were previously neatly stacked on his desk this black daddy started to long dick me, telling me my bussy was made for BBC – not just any BBC but a DADDY BBC – since only a daddy could make it go POP with his thick monster dick! My arms were splayed wide, my hands grasped at nothing but air as Mr. Durant took full advantage of my raw hole, but then the phone rang. “Hey son, how’s it going? No I’m still up,” Mr. Durant answered. Fuck it was Kevin! I stifled a groan as Mr. Durant started angling sideways, trying to POP out through my left ass wall. “Yeah I hear you boy. Sounds complicated. But I know you will do me proud.” I cried out a little as Mr. Durant started to plug at the same spot on my left wall over and over and quickly covered my mouth with my hand. “What son?” Mr. Durant continued, “Oh, you know how I like to get my workout in between calls. Just got off the phone with the Tokyo office and New Delhi is coming up, so figured I would get some good, deep, LONG stretches in while I can.” I almost choked on my tongue when he said that. “You too boy. Drive safe. What? Oh no, have not seen your little friend. I think maybe I heard him earlier in the kitchen earlier getting something to eat, but I tell you what, I’ll go on downstairs to your crib and let him know you won’t be home until morning so he might as well crash here for the night and you guys can ride back to school together from home for your first class. How’s that? Good, good. I will.” Mr. Durant hung up the call, pulled is dick out, and chuckled, “I love my boy, but damn, son’s got a thick head – and a tiny head too – right?” I said nothing and Mr. Durant slammed me hard, “I ASKED YOU A FUCKING QUESTION – MY SON’S GOT A TINY DICK HEAD – YES?” I grunted in the affirmative, which made this black daddy purr and pounce and dig my hole some more. A few minutes later he paused his long strokes, shivered as he regained control of himself, and said, “Come on. I’m going to breed that pussy again.” I willingly followed him like a convert in a cult as Mr. Durant walked down the hall, his stiff dick swinging side to side like the hypnotic call of a cobra. Instead of going to his bedroom though – the destination I assumed we were headed too – he turned and started down the stairs to Kevin’s apartment. Once through the door he walked over to the piles of clothes on the floor, picked up a random garment and started sniffing. He dropped the first, then the second, but with the third piece of clothing – a set of Calvin Klein underwear – he inhaled long, deep, and smiled and said, “That’s your cunt. Your pussy drawers. Fuck yeah! Prefucked cherry hole. I know these ain’t my son’s – even if they were the same brand, his smell is very different.” I was not sure what he meant by that and my mind raced with the [banned word] possibilities. Mr. Durant tossed the underwear back onto the floor, shoved me onto the bed and said, “It’s time for dessert. Let me taste that cherry creampie.” Mr. Durant pushed me into the middle of his son’s bed – the same spot where Kevin and I had exchanged our seed just hours earlier. With no effort he lifted my legs up, set them on his shoulders, adjusted his position, pushed my body back a little then slid his hands down my legs until he grasped my thighs. I grunted as he grabbed me tight and pushed my legs back so my ankles were by my ears. With my prefucked hole winking at him, Mr. Durant smiled, licked his lips, and pigged out on my creampie extravaganza. His mighty hands tilted my hips to the right, then the left, then back a little while his tongue scraped the inside of my hole, slurping out every drop of family mixed seed he could find. With his face slathered and wet, Mr. Durant dropped my legs, flipped me over onto my stomach, mounted me with a body slam and started bouncing up and down on my ass getting his cardio in, “LET ME IN THAT PHAT ASS! LET DADDY TAKE IT! MAKE YOU FEEL EVERY FUCKING INCH OF THIS DADDY DICK. YOU LIKE THAT HUH? THAT WHITE PUSSY OPENING RIGHT UP FOR ME LIKE A GOOD BOY. YOU A GOOD BOY FOR DADDY! VERY GOOD BOY! YOU WANT DADDY TO STOP OR KEEP GOING? YOU WANT DADDY TO KEEP FILLING THAT ASS WITH CUM? MAKE IT OVERFLOW WITH DADDY NUTT? CREAM ON THAT DICK BOY – SHOW DADDY WHAT A WET PUSSY YOU GOT. FUCK YEAH! FEEL THAT PUSSY GETTING JUICY – STRETCHING FOR ME – SHUT THE FUCK UP AND TAKE IT! SHHH BOY – TAKE IT FOR DADDY – DADDY’S CUMMING – DADDY’S CUMMING – DADD…..OH HELL YEAH!!!” With a couple slaps to my cheeks Mr. Durant climbed off the bed and stood by the edge so I could scoot over and lick his rank shaft clean. When he smiled I figured we were done and let out a big sigh and rolled onto my back and grabbed my head. Mr. Durant coughed, I looked, and he was pointing at his semi-hard dick, “You still got some work to do. My dick is telling me that pussy is still fresh and needs some more daddy dick, but you got to work for the next load. Come on.” I quickly got off the bed and as I followed him out the door I reached back and touched my slick, tender ass. My finger came back coated with thick man cream and I put it up to my nose to smell. The heady aroma almost made me run right into a damn wall and I paused not sure now what to do with my dirty hand now, so I licked it. OMFG! That was the best fucking taste ever and no wonder he ate my ass out like a demon sucking a soul. Back upstairs in his office Mr. Durant sat in his chair, tapped a few keys on the computer and ignored me for a good minute while I stood there. I was horny, naked, embarrassed, horny, guilty, hungry, horny – all competing for attention. “Go get me another beer,” Mr. Durant said, interrupting my self confliction. When I came back he had his office chair turned to the side, his legs splayed, his long, thick, black dick standing firm once again. Christ he was impressive and I knew where Kevin got his hormones from. I set the beer on the desk, Mr. Durant made a little spinning motion with his right index finger, so I turned and showed him my ass. I thought he might lick it again, but I jumped as I felt something smaller and blunt poke at my hole. The pressure eased, I turned back, and Mr. Durant was smiling as he flicked a lighter and started puffing on a long, fat cigar – the tip that was between his lips was clearly a bit moist. Did he just stick that in my ass? With cigar in one hand, beer in another, and me on my knees between his legs doing my best to suck his dick, Mr. Durant was content to give my ass a rest – a short rest. With a last puff of his cigar he stood up and grabbed my right wrist, silently dragging me along to God knew where. This time we went into what I gathered was his bedroom – the king’s chambers – and it was a room fit for a king, a daddy, a successful man. Large, spacious, well appointed, I didn’t have much time to look around though as I was dragged straight on through and into the master bath. Mr. Durant let go of my wrist, bent forward, and turned the water on to start filling an oversized Jacuzzi tub. The splatter of water against the tub’s sides drowned out the gurgling sounds made as Mr. Durant held my head between his hands in a vice grip as he dicked my throat. Eager to get his nutt, Kevin’s daddy stood me back up, I was turned around and a raw BBC slammed back up my ass. Mr. Durant bent me forward, my chest resting on the lip of the Jacuzzi on top of the plush robe he had laid there. I moaned in need and begged, “FUCK ME DADDY! GIVE ME THAT DICK! PLEASE CUM IN ME AGAIN!” Mr. Durant chuckled, adjusted his grip, and settled in for a stamina, marathon fuck. My legs cramped, my knees felt week, yet the BBC daddy continued to bang me with long, focused strokes. The monster meet inside me swelled and jerked and I thought he was cumming, but not quite yet. Mr. Durant paused, pulled his dick out of my ass with a wet SLURP and commented, “FUCK THAT PUSSY IS CREAMY! TIME TO PLANT THE 8-BALL IN THE CORNER POCKET WITH THIS EBONY CUE STICK.” With a surprised squawk from me, he lifted me up into the air, I wrapped my arms around his neck, and he walked over to press me against the mirrored wall in the corner where he had a multi-faceted view of my ass and his dick sliding up my raw hole. A little adjustment and Mr. Durant snapped his dick back inside me and in one stroke it was balls deep, poking out my belly button as he hefted me in the crook of his elbows – my weight artfully balanced in his arms and against the mirrored wall. “CRY OUT FOR THIS DICK – SCREAM FOR THAT NUTT- GET FUCKING LOUD AND BEG ME TO JUMP IN THAT ASS AND POUND THAT PUSSY FULL OF DADDY CUM. THAT WHAT YOU WANT? MORE DADDY NUTT – AS MUCH AS I WANT TO GIVE YOU? YOU A GOOD BOY FOR DADDY? TELL DADDY HOW YOU ARE GOING TO LET ME FUCK THAT PUSSY RAW ANYTIME I WANT – TELL DADDY HOW THIS MONSTER DICK STRETCHED THAT CUNT GOOD –TELL DADDY HOW YOU WILL KEEP THAT PUSSY SLOPPY WITH MY SON’S NUTT SO I CAN DIG UP IN THERE! YOU READY TO GET STRETCHED BY THIS DADDY DICK? FEEL THAT? FEEL THAT HOLE OPENING WIDE, BEGGING FOR DADDY TO FUCK IT? GOOD PUSSY BOY – DAMN GOOD PUSSY BOY – HERE YOU GO! BLASTING IN THAT CUNT! FILLING IT UP! DADDY TAKING IT! OWNING IT! DADDY NUTT BREEDING YOU!” Mr. Durant lifted me up and down on his exploding shaft in perfect rhythm as he refilled my tank. When he was done, he shifted his hips, pulled his dick out, gently lowered me to the floor and stepped back, “Get some rest – while you can. And oh, this is between you and me. What Kevin don’t know won’t hurt him and don’t even think about trying to tell him about our little fun tonight. He would never believe you as he knows his old man is a complete pussy hound and I think you like him, so that would only ensure you stopped seeing him. However, I think you and I will be spending ALOT more time together.” Mr. Durant eased into the hot Jacuzzi water as I skulked back down stairs, my ass throbbing from the last fuck, and suddenly afraid of the what ifs – what if Kevin had come home? What if he had seen us? What if he could tell? I spent the next while in Kevin’s bathroom showering off the smell and funk of his father. I kept squatting over the drain, trying to get my guts to release all of Mr. Durant’s cum, to flush away all evidence of the thing we had done. When it seemed like I had done all I could, I finally flopped onto Kevin’s bed and immediately went to sleep. Yet, it was a fitful rest, with dreams of Mr. Durant intruding in my mind like he had intruded in my raw ass. I suddenly jerked awake as warm hands shook me, and a voice whispered, “Hey, scoot over. Want to spoon a little. I’m tired as shit, but really need to fuck and have been waiting all night.” Kevin was home. I wanted to hold him, kiss him, fuck him and have him fuck me so bad but I still felt like – well I still felt like Mr. Durant was inside my ass as it throbbed and hurt and all I could do was think of him. “No, I can’t fuck,” I apologized, “I think I ate something from the fridge that did not agree with me...my stomach...I’m not… I don’t think my ass…” Kevin saved me from further embarrassment and lies by kissing my cheek and saying, “It’s OK, no worries, let’s just spoon a little if that’s OK?” Hell yeah! The next morning I awoke to Kevin’s stiffy poking at my ass. I didn’t think I could refuse him again and so I let him fuck me on my side and he blew his cum in my ass in nothing flat and seemed none-the-wiser to the events of the previous night. We showered together and walked upstairs, holding hands, which totally freaked me out. Again, Kevin was so bold and open with shit and I could never imagine holding another’s man’s hands in my parent’s house. But oh yeah – his dad was a raw dicking freak! Mr. Durant was in the kitchen cooking breakfast and acted like nothing happened. How could he? I knew we could not let Kevin know, but at the same time I felt hurt somehow like he was being extra cold and rude to me. How the fuck is that fair? At the table I was quiet and Kevin sensed something was up, but Mr. Durant played it cool and kept the conversations focused on what a great job Kevin did for Lockheed the night before and how proud he was of him. Kevin finished up before me and said he had to run out to his car and check on the tires real quick as one seemed a little off on the way home. Kevin had no sooner closed the door than Mr. Durant stood up, roughly pushed me against the dining room wall, easily opened my pants one-handed and yanked on my underwear, spun me around, spit twice and rammed his dick into my hole. “You need to step up BOY!” Mr. Durant said angrily into my ear, “Hide what you’re feeling, know, or think. It does not matter – all that matters now is my dick in your ass and how quickly you get that pussy back hear for me to plant some more daddy sperm.” A few minutes later when Kevin came back upstairs ready to go, I was sitting at the dining room table as Mr. Durant finished filling the dishwasher – neither of us letting on that his dick now smelled of my ass and my mind was racing of how I was going to make this happen again.

Trying to post a new chapter but the formatting in the new site is jacked - will try again tomorrow - but another Chapter coming! - hopefully

2 loads of piss-3 BBC-4 nutts=30.5 inches of BBC: While the rest of the city was shut down yesterday for the inauguration, I spent the day catching up with a few BBC who were stuck on this side of town and looking for action. #1 had 9.5 inches., who gave me a load in the living room, then pissed in me, and paused then pounded the piss deeper as he gave me another load. #2 had 11 inches, thick, and had me up on the bed so he could angle up and deep as he gave me his load. #3 had 10 inches, also pounded me hard as I kneeled on the bed, blew a big load, paused, fucked a little more, then pissed in me and tried to fuck more but he was dry and spent :(.

I find that my straight fuck buddies - those guys who just want a hole, any hole - to fuck and cum in, are more likely to call me bitch, pussy, whatever and I don't care what they say as it is all about the dick and load, so whatever gets them off!

2016 went out with a BBC BANG as had triple digits of big black cock the last 5 days of the year, including on Thursday when 3 BBC fuck buddies all came through back-to-back and dropped 5 loads of nutt and 2 bladders of piss - woof! 2017 on track already as at 3:01 a.m. got text from BBC asking me if I was up - he was horny, came through, slammed rough and hard and dropped a nutt and on his way out the door said, "May come back later after I crash a bit." He fucks rough and hole is throbbing and my New Year's resolution of 'taking as much raw BBC as I can' is off to a good start.

Hi A6ULDEVE84U – not sure if you ever found the story you were looking for and apologies as just saw this post. I have two stories that may be what you remember – although not an exact match from your description, but just in case wanted to pass along: Joseph – Dr Mike’s Patient I Stealth Pozzed and Earned my BIOHZARD Status https://breeding.zone/topic/12248-joseph-%E2%80%93-dr-mike%E2%80%99s-patient-i-stealth-pozzed-and-earned-my-biohzard-status-and-tat/#comment-218296 Trish Can’t Leave Me Now https://breeding.zone/topic/16636-trish-can%E2%80%99t-leave-me-now/ A6ULDEVE84U “I believe I read a story here on BZ but have my doubts now as I can not find it nor do I remember the title. The tale is about a heterosexual couple who if I remember correctly had a gay promiscuous male friend. The female had to leave town for some reason which I think was to tend to an ill relative. While she was gone, the gay friend seduced her boyfriend and got him hooked on getting fucked by the gay friend who was also HIV poz. When she returned, the couple broke up and the supposed straight guy had converted and was a devout barebacker. I realize that this isn't much information, and I'm hoping the tale is here on BZ. Any information and especially location of the story would be greatly appreciated.”

Part 2- “NOW IT’S TIME FOR YOU TO LEARN WHO THE REAL MASTER IS AND WHO IS REALLY THE WHIPPING BOY,” Jaegar said. I stood there, dumbfounded. It must be the drugs because I know I didn’t hear him right. One of the thugs stooped, dug a joint out of his pants and lit it and exhaled. The thick cloud of smoke forming patterns of dancers around his head, which then drifted to his right, casting Jaegar and then the other thug in a mystical haze. The blunt was passed, the other thug hit it, the haze thickened, three sets of eyes glowed with intent and I was frozen in place. With the blunt in one hand and a cell phone in the other, one of the thugs circled me like a predator eyeing his prey. As he did, he angled the phone up and down over me and began his narrative, “YO, GOT A COUPLE YUCKBOYSLIVE.COM FANS HERE GETTING DOWN WITH THAT REAL SHIT. JUST BROKE ONE WHITE ASS, AND BONUS - ANOTHER HAS BEEN OFFERED UP - FUCKING SILVER PLATTER AND ALL!” Both thugs laughed, Jaegar snapped the the two belts and I took a step back. “Where you going?” a thug asked. I turned to leave but was yanked up short as one of the belts dropped over my head, looped around my neck, and pulled me back. The phone was tossed to Jaegar who got a close up of my face, his eyes sparkling with lust, drugs, and revenge. While one thug pulled me up short with the belt as a leash, the other unbuttoned my pants, pulled them down, guided them off first one leg then the next. He didn’t bother with my underwear, instead he twisted his masculine fingers into the crease and ripped them into pieces with two hands as Jaegar and the thug holding me laughed. The belt dropped for a second, multiple hands dug at my shirt and that soon was ripped and gone and I was left in nothing but my socks. I didn’t move, part of my mind thinking that maybe if I just stood very still they would leave me alone. Smoke was blown in my face, the thugs circled, slapping at my ass, spanking their steel rod’s against me as they passed, with Jaegar capturing it all. One of them jammed a sharp nail and finger into my ass and I jumped. Howl’s of laughter followed and one of the thugs asked, “You ever had black dick before?” I didn’t answer, but Jaegar did, “He’s only been fucked a few times, just in the past couple of weeks, by...by some white guys.” The phone was held up close to a thug’s face as he said, “Bet they was little dick fuckers too. Well, we about to turn this fag pussy into a W.R. - WIDE RECEIVER - you ready bro? Time to get up in that shit and coat them guts with some chem nutt.” Jaegar shifted the phone to the side for a second, sneered at me and said in a whisper, “Yeah, they were all little dicks.” “Hey man, we ready? Any limits?” one of the thugs asked as he spit onto his dick and stroked it until the veins bulged, the tip dribbled, and he shifted side to side like an Olympian preparing to run a race. Jaegar nodded, replied, “None.” He paused, “Wait - just one, I have spent 18 years listening to his mouth. I think I need one day off from that.” I was soon gagging on a filth encrusted sock that might have been white at one time, and tears caused by the malevolent odor filled my eyes and I almost laughed at the comedy of the the now, one-socked thug. The one-socked thug growled in anger, took the belt, and slid it around my neck like you would a pair of pants and latched it. I gasped a little for air, my fingers trying to find purchase around the leather edge that was now cutting into my skin. He growled again and my relief was short lived as instead of loosening it, he slid it into the next hole, making it tighter before handing the loose end to the thug behind me. He took the camera and pointed it at my face, “HEY HOMIES - WE GASSED UP THE WHIP AND NOW WE UP HERE ON THE GOLD COAST TODAY MAKING THEM STACKZ. BOUT TO DELIVER THAT BEAT DOWN SHIT AND I’M HIGH AS FUCKING SHIT RIGHT NOW! BRING ME THAT PLATE.” Jaegar walked over, the thug took the plate and held it in front of my face, “Want some?” I nodded and my head was snapped back as the thug holding the belt yanked on it. I jealously watched as the one-socked thug snorted a couple lines, handed it to Jaegar who walked behind me and I heard them both snort too. The camera turned so one-sock was speaking into it as he wiped his nose, “DAMN HIGH DOLLA SHIT RIGHT THERE - WHEW! OPEN THAT MOUTH FAG PUSSY, LET ME SPIT IN THERE, LET YOU TASTE THE BACK THROAT DRIP.” He turned the camera back, I shook my head no, the thug behind me slapped my head, then grabbed my jaw and the top of my head and pried my mouth open to receive the thug spit. The sock was momentarily removed and I swallowed the foul concoction as they laughed and I choked as the sock was stuffed back in. “You fucked him before?” the one behind me asked Jaegar. He said, “No,” but then shed light on the Meyer family darkness when he replied, “But his father and uncles have...well...I...I think I heard someone in his family say they had seen him take dick recently.” The thug with the camera asked, “You not family? You sure act like it. You sure you not boos or lovers or shit?” Jaegar laughed in a sorrowful, painful way, “We are family of a sorts, but not by blood - not until today anyways. No limits right?” A hard thug slap to my face and the room filled with their laughter as the thug said, “YOU HEAR THAT - NO LIMITS - AND OUR NEW SIDE HOMIE HERE THINKS HE CAN STEP UP AND BE A PLAYA. WE DON’T SHARE, BUT WHATEVER THE FUCK IS LEFT YOU CAN DIP THAT WHITE STICK IN OUR DRIPPINGS AND USE IT ALL YOU WANT AND FUCK TRUST THAT WHITE PUSSY WILL BE BLOODY RED WHEN WE ARE DONE.” The cell phone continued to capture my humiliation, my submission at the hands of Jaegar and his new-found friends. I was pushed down onto my hands and knees as the thug behind me yanked hard on the belt around my neck, trying to control me like a family pet. The one-socked thug sat down in the easy chair, spread his legs wide, flopped his balls out, which were twitching, large, hairy, and eager for release. I was kicked forward a little, then a little more and eyed the thug in the chair as he lit a new blunt, blew smoke circles for the camera, coughed, held the camera back up in front of his face - panned down to his wide, hard dick - back up and said, “TIME TO JAM SOME HOLES. BANG SQUAD HERE AND WE FUCK LONG, HARD, ROUGH. WE STEPPING IT UP ONE ON OUR BROS AT YUCKBOYS - THEY BE TAKING THOSE WILLING SLUTS. WE BOUT TO SHARE OUR MIGHTY BONES WITH A WHITE BITCH THAT WANTS TO RUN. NO RUNNING ALLOWED IN THIS JOINT. GO ON MAN - LET’S SEE THOSE EYES FUCKING BUG THE SHIT OUT AS YOU PUNCTURE THAT PUSSY - LET’S SHOW FOLKS WHAT OUR CREW CAN DO WHEN THE CASH AND THE STASH ON POINT. YO MAN GET A BIRD’S EYE VIEW OF THAT SHIT, IT’S ABOUT TO GET POPPIN.” Jaegar took the phone and pointed the camera down to where the thug behind me was slapping his dick against my lower back and spreading my legs open further with his feet. My body stiffened in fear, I tried to turn, the thug wound a loop of leather around his hand, shortening the hold he had on me and almost lifting my hands off the floor. He suddenly let the belt out of his hand as he passed it to the thug in the chair. Again I was brought to heal and could feel the thug behind me now spreading my cheeks with both hands and could feel him squatting low, his hard rod starting to poke at my clenched hole. I tried to cry out as the thug dick pushed at my hole, more intent, harder, trying to force it’s way in, but all sound was muffled by the filthy sock in my mouth. Jaegar’s voice was now on my left side, “Light’s better from here,” he said. Thanks man. He would pay for this. My thoughts of how I would make him pay were lost as the thug’s dick gored into my ass, slowly pushing the ring open, skin scraping skin, millimeter by millimeter with every dry thrust. The thug was bouncing up and down now, his weight forcing me open slow but sure. I was breathing hard, the pain shooting through my body like an atomic blast wave. Once his head was wedged enough into my hole he paused, “YOU READY?” he asked. I shook my head and tried to beg but got three quick slaps, and he said, “NOT YOU, FUCK. YOU - CAMERA DUDE - READY TO SEE THIS PUSSY ASS CLAP?” My cries of pain would surely had risen alarms of the hotel staff if my mouth had not been stuffed with rank thug sock. The scalding black poker pierced my ring and embedded itself inside my rectum. “Holy shit!” Jaegar said as he bent to get a close up of my stretched and strained flesh. The thug in the chair yanked the belt, gave me a good face slap, which made me think of the pain in my head and not my ass for the briefest of seconds, “YOU AIN’T SEEN NOTHING YET. WE TOOK IT EASY ON YOU, THAT WAS JUST A QUICK IN-AND-OUT. THIS, WELL THIS IS SOMETHING FUCKING ELSE ENTIRELY DIFF. NOW MAKE SURE YOU CATCH THIS, BACK UP A BIT, GET US BOTH IN THE SHOT.” Jaegar stepped back, then some more, the thug in the chair gave a twist to the belt, tightened the leather strap, used two smelly fingers to dig the sock out, and as I gasped for clean air he scooted forward a bit, set the blunt between his teeth, held his dick in line with my mouth, nodded and said, “HIT THAT PUSSY BRO!” The thugs dug in me from both ends - hard, fast, deep, relentless - and with no mercy. The sensations were beyond what I could take in and process - pain, embarrassment, humiliation, the need to wipe at my face as the drool was fucked right out of my mouth and my guts heaved as the ripe thug dick pounded the back of my throat. I felt like I was short circuited. Nothing made sense, yet I realized that in the midst of the swirling storm of chaos was an island of pleasure, of joy, of ecstasy. My feet found purchase on the shifting sands of that shore and as I climbed onto solid ground again I was blasted back with feelings like nothing I had ever experienced. The thug fucking my throat laughed as I wretched and gagged, “YOU SEE THAT? THAT RIGHT THERE IS THE SIGN OF A BBC NYMPHO. THOSE WHITE HIPS PUSHING BACK, TRYING TO GET YOU TO CLIMB UP IN THERE DEEPER. RAPE IT FUCKA - MAKE HIM WHIMPER - LET’S DO A POWER RANGER FUCK DOWN.” I was lost in bliss when a sharp jolt of pain brought me back. The thug fucking me had stopped, yanked out hard, then a hot, warm stream starting running down my back and ass crack, then my legs as he slammed it back in and explained, “Had to piss a little. Needed to prime the pump a bit first to make sure only the dark chem piss went up his guts.” The thug choke fucking me spit on me and snarled, “FUCK BRO, YOU KNOW I LIKE IT SLOPPY AND JUICY - NOW NUTT THAT SHIT UP.” The fucking stopped short again, both ends were vacated as the belt was roughly tugged and I half crawled, half stumbled over to the bed. I was slammed face down and mounted again and it took several strokes for the thug to find his groove. Splatters of chem piss, ass juice, and fuck proof coated the hotel bed comforter and rug as the thug fucked my ass. I didn’t know where Jaegar was, or the other thug, and didn’t care. They was right, I wanted nothing more than that thug dick to slam me harder and deeper. OMFG! I needed it. My father and uncles were nothing compared to this. Their fucking was...just a pause in time, not real, not truly a connection. I don’t know, so hard to explain. I braced myself as best I could to give him something to slam into, laid my arms out wide, and let him take me. I submitted. Wholly and completely. I submitted for the first time ever in my life. “GET UNDER US FOR THAT MONEY SHOT - GETTING READY TO CREAMPIE THAT ASS - BREED IT WITH SOME CHEM NUTT TOO - GET THAT HOLE SLOPPY SO MY BRO CAN DIG LIKE HE WANTS - OH FUCKING HELL YEAH! READY FOR YOUR FIRST LOAD? LET US HEAR YOU BEG FOR IT - BEG FOR MY SHIT - BEG FOR NUTT - BEG FOR MY BBC - WHOSE PUSSY IS THAT NOW? WHOSE BITCH? WHOSE? THAT’S RIGHT - IT’S MINE AND I’M FUCKING MARKING IT UP - RIGHT - THE - FUCK - NOW!!!!” The thug exploded inside me, deeper than I ever knew was possible and I could feel his dick swell, pulse, quake, and spurt - all for me. “Oh please stick it back in,” I cried out as he slid his now soft dick from my hungry hole. I didn’t have to ask twice as the one-socked thug grabbed the belt, yanked me back hard, spun me around, pushed me back and hefted my ankles up and back. His determined look told me I might not be prepared for what he had in store, and Jaegar must have had the same idea as he leaned around the thug, the camera focusing on my face as the belt wrapped around the thug’s wrist, he yanked my head forward, let some length out, adjusted his arms a little, pulled me back closer to the edge of the bed, and paused. “BANG SQUAD BEAT DOWN - TAKE 2 ABOUT TO COMMENCE. YO, GET A SHOT OF HIS FACE CAUSE WHEN I GO HE’S GOING TO KNOW IT,” the one-socked thug ordered as he finished positioning himself. I briefly met Jaegar’s eyes; he had that hungry determined look too. The belt jarred my focus back to the thug, he leaned forward, bunching my legs back to my shoulders, my bruised ass gasping, waiting. My body then stiffened like I had been strapped to an electric chair as the thug slammed into my nutt and piss filled ass. My mouth opened to cry out, but all sounds were choked off by the belt and the shock of the pain. My arms beat at the bed and I grabbed fist fulls of the comforter to try to steady my mind and anchor me to the world. His dick was much thicker than the first guy’s and the position was far more painful. The thug didn’t care though and threw a mad fuck - rougher, deeper, harder, more brutal. I was babbling in pain and pleasure. One stroke would make me see stars of pain before my eyes, the next would send orgasmic delight through my veins. “REACH UP AND HOLD YOUR LEGS BACK, GRAB THOSE FUCKING ANKLES. YOU WANT THIS DICK? SHOW ME BITCH. SHOW ME HOW MUCH YOU WANT IT. SHOW ME YOU WANT THAT HOLE RIPPED BY SOME SOUTHSIDE BBC. SHOW ME! YOU AIN’T A TRUE BITCH UNLESS THAT PUSSY RIPPED AND BLOODY, OTHERWISE YOU JUST A FAGGY BOY. WHICH IS IT GOING TO BE? YOU A BITCH OR NOT? OH YEAH? YOU A BITCH? HOLD THEM ANKLES JUST LIKE THAT SO I CAN GAPE THAT PUSSY THEN.” I obeyed and the more he fucked me, the the more I tried to pull my ankles back to let him dig deeper, to scrape my insides out, to hit every nook and cranny of my white muffins. “YO GET UNDERNEATH, ZOOM UP FOR THE MONEY SHOT. ABOUT READY TO BREED THIS BITCH PUSSY,” the one-socked thug told Jaegar. Several more strokes and I was straining to pull my legs back and out to sacrifice myself, to submit to this dirty thug. SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! I almost dropped my legs, but now the other thug was sitting beside my head, his semi-hard dick growing with every slap he gave my face while his crew buddy continued to fuck me. Slap and fuck, slap and fuck. BBC beatdown. The one-socked thug was ready, “HIT THAT BITCH, SLAP THAT BITCH, FUCK BRO THAT SHIT TURNS ME ON - NO LIMIT FUCKS - USE THIS PUSSY HARD - THINK MAYBE WE SHOULD LINE UP SOME MORE HOMIES FROM THE CREW, DO A PROPER GANGBANG FUCK. YO DUDE, WHAT DO YOU THINK ABOUT THAT? YOU UP FOR IT? CAMERA GUY, YEAH YOU, YOU WANT TO GET DOUBLE TAPPED WITH MORE BBC? NO? OH YOU A TOP HUH? WELL THAT ASS TOOK OUR DICKS, BUT I HEAR YOU. THIS HERE’S THE REAL BITCH IN THE HOUSE - THE REAL PUSSY - LET ME PUNISH IT RIGHT AND DROP THAT NYQUIL - LET ME PUNISH THAT HOLE LIKE ONLY A TRUE BBC CAN - LET ME SHRED IT SO IT FEELS LIKE YOU SHITTING GLASS FOR A WEEK! LET ME TURN THAT PUSSY INSIDE OUT AND BACK AGAIN. FUCK YEAH, KEEP SLAPPING HIM BRO, GOING TO NUTT IT UP, MY CUM IS GOING TO GO FUCKING DEEP. PAST THAT SECOND HOLE, PAST THAT THIRD HOLE - FEEL ME KNOCKING INSIDE YOU? FEEL ME - YOU FEEL ME - YOU FEEL…...AAAAHHHH, OOOOHHHH,....GR…..” My legs dropped to the floor. I clawed at the belt, trying to breathe. Their voices sounded so far away. I tried to speak, to ask if I pleased them, to ask if I could get some more, to ask if they would stay, to ask for a drink, for some coke, all of it and more - just more. I wanted so much more. I rolled over, moaned, found the buckle on the belt and twisted it around and with weak fingers tried to unclasp it. I breathed deep then grunted as large hands slapped at my fumbling fingers and a hot body in need weighed me down. Jaegar’s left hand pressed my head into the bed, his breath hot on my neck, his raging peasant dick sliding recklessly in my nutt filled and open ass, “WHO’S THE WHIPPING BOY NOW?” he asked.

Old money means more in America than most people want to admit. Wealth, power, the right to do what you want and get away with shit - ah the joy of it all! My name is Heinrich Meyer and my family moved to Chicago in the early 1900s where we became one of the great families of the city. My ancestors were dukes or barons or some other drivel title hundreds of years ago and while there is no disputing we were rich as fuck when we arrived, how my great grandfather came about that wealth is of much dispute. Some in the family say he robbed, then killed his father before fleeing the old country. Others say that he had split from his family as a young man and had already made a fortune by the time he turned 20. Either way, when he arrived in Chicago he brought chests of gold and an entire village population with him to create his new kingdom. Even now, while the Castle - our family home - has changed little since then, what were peasant hovels and workshops that surrounded it for blocks in every direction have now developed into a thriving and prosperous neighborhood. We own it all and they - and the family fortune - will someday be all mine. In the meantime, I get to enjoy all that life has to offer. For example, right now I have a silver tray filled with lines of the best cocaine, sitting next to a rare bottle of Scotch, while I watch my whipping boy get his ass mercilessly fucked by a couple hood thugs from the south side. There are some families who move to America and assimilate. Not the Meyers. Oh we ‘play’ the all American family for the public, but behind closed doors the old country still rules. We rarely speak English at home, the old traditions bind us, and of those - the one I have loved the most - has been the whipping boy. Jaegar, which means ‘hunter’, has been my only real companion since I can remember and he has the honor of being my whipping boy. Both his parents, like everyone else within a few miles of the Castle, work for my family as they have for generations going back to the old country. I was only a baby when Jaegar - who was a few weeks older than me - was chosen. You see, as the family prince I could not be allowed to socialize with the riff raff, yet every child needs a pet - and a whipping boy - and mine was Jaegar. My sisters had their little girl companions who would come and go, but my Jaegar was a constant, especially since I was the only son and the eldest. He slept in my room in his own little cot at the foot of bed unless I had kicked him into the hall. He ate his meals with me, would entertain me, and most importantly, when I got into trouble it was Jaegar who got punished. My kinderfrau, or nanny, was an old, mean crone like they all are, and I did my best to make her life as miserable as she made mine. It was Jaegar who really paid the price though and as I got older I would spend the hours when I was supposed to be studying at my fancy prep school, thinking of ways to torture them both. Jaegar took it all with honor, dignity, and even a smile. It was his duty, but according to my Oma - or grandmother - it was love, adoration, a will to serve and please me beyond all else. Well that just pissed me off and made me want to punish him more. Watching Jaegar arch his back in pain as the first thug dick slammed into him made me smile. That’s it! I snorted some coke, sipped my Scotch, and watched my latest punishment unfold. I was jealous of Jaegar, always had been, I know that, and for that he had to pay as well. Where I was shorter and lithe like all the men in my family, Jaegar was true peasant stock - thick built, tall, and a dick to rival the two thugs he was now serving at my command. It was a clinical jealousy though. Jaegar and I had never even discussed anything sexual, let alone experimented. It just was not done. He was, well, the whipping boy. He had his place and I had mine. That was that. So why did I set up this fuck fest session to see him punished? My 18th birthday was two weeks ago and my father, several of my uncles, and a few of my older cousins took me to our lodge up in Wisconsin to celebrate. Drugs and alcohol are embraced vices within my family, and there was plenty of both from the moment we arrived. It was late on the first night, I had drank more than I was accustomed to and my Onkel Derych - my father’s brother - helped me up the stairs. I leaned against him as I took off my pants and when I turned to climb into the bed, Onkel Derych grabbed me by the waist, pulled me back against him, laughing, slurring, and telling me what a nice ass I had. I didn’t understand and when I tried to push him away, he pulled tighter, and so I started to yell. The door banged open and there in the light of the hallway was my vater - my father. “LASS DEN QUATSCH!” my father yelled. I stopped, my father strode in, walked over to me, and slapped me hard across the face. I gaped at him, touched my now tender jaw. My father had never hit me. Ever. He had hit Jaegar many times, but never me. I instinctively turned, trying to find where Jaegar was and why father had not hit him. Onkel held my arms as my father unbuckled his pants and let them drop to the floor. I stared as he stroked his hard hard dick with his left hand while calmly sipping a glass of liquor from his right. Onkel pushed me forward and then down to my knees. I looked up, my father finished his drink and threw the glass against the far wall before looking down at me and saying, “Tonight, tonight you are a man in the eyes of the law of this country. But in my eyes, and in the eyes of your Onkels and cousins, you are nothing, and will remain nothing until you find some way to prove yourself a true man - a true Meyer. To begin, you will learn your first lesson and this is how to please me and your Onkels. That is the job of the youngest male from when they turn 18 until they are replaced, to please us - all of us - whenever we demand it. You will marry in time - when I decide it is right. You will be faithful to your wife and will never have a mistress or use a whore like those bauers, or workers, we employ. Men have urges and needs, as God willed it, but we are the masters, WE are the ones in control, and to ensure our line and to protect the family - the family provides all that we need. Do you understand?” I didn’t understand, not really, but as my father guided my mouth to his throbbing cock, I accepted my duty. I did my duty and swallowed as my father shot his salty semen into my mouth. I did my duty and did not fight back or cry out when my Onkel Derych pushed his dick into my ass and fucked me. I held my head high and did my duty as my father and Onkel guided me back downstairs where I found my other family members all in various states of sexual activity. Generally it was the Onkels fucking the cousins, but there were some who switched, to my surprise. Maybe I will share more about that night another time. The next morning I awoke sore, hung over, and still somewhat confused by the night’s events. My cousins smiled as I walked downstairs for some much needed juice, and when I asked where my father was they just snickered and said he was in his room with tante. My aunt? I walked back up stairs and to the far side of the lodge and heard moans and groans coming from my father’s room. The door was ajar, I pushed it open and gasped - there was my father on his hands and knees on the bed being fucked by Klaus! Klaus had been my father’s whipping boy when he was younger and had become my father’s right hand man and business manager. Well fuck! Clearly they were more than that. Klaus stopped, my father turned and saw me, he reached back and patted Klaus’ left hand that was holding his hip. Klaus relaxed his grip, my father slid off his dick, walked over to me, pulled me into the room, shut the door behind me, and then led me over to the bed. My father laughed at the look on my face as I stared at Klaus’ large cock before ordering me to please them both. I avoided my father, uncles, and cousins as much as I could the next two weeks, but they all knew every hiding place there was in the Castle and my father especially seemed to delight in making me bend forward to receive his watery seed. Each time one of them found me, I swore I would make Jaegar pay and so I shared with him my plan to spend a weekend at a fancy downtown hotel, just him and me, to give us a chance to celebrate my birthday - together, just us. Jaegar was excited, and babbled on about room service, maybe going to a club, and more. I had made other plans. We arrived at the hotel at 1:30 p.m for an early check in and as soon as we got to the room I brought out the coke, poured a drink, and Jaegar happily joined me. We laughed, joked, told childhood stories, shared our dreams for the future and for a moment, just a moment, I forgot all about my need to punish Jaegar. The loud knock on the hotel room door reminded me. I ordered Jaegar to stay seated, went to the door and opened it for the two thugs. They had posted an ad online looking for a pay-to-play set up. A few emails later and it was all arranged and agreed to. For a healthy tip for their time and assurances I had party favors, they would fuck my friend and let me watch. The money I offered was enough to silence any questions they had about why I wanted it that way. “Hey, you got the roses?” the taller of the two thugs asked. They appeared to be a few years older than me and I was lost a bit in thought when they asked again. “Roses?” I said. “Fuck man yeah, the cash. Pay-to-play. We smokin or what?” Jaegar stood up, “What’s going on?” he asked. The thugs brushed past him, snorted a few lines off the plate, poured some drinks, lit some smokes, and started to get undressed. “What’s going on? Tell me!” Jaegar said with a layer of fear in his voice. I grabbed him by his arm, squeezed and snapped, “What the fuck do you think? These two gentlemen are looking for some white ass and since they can’t have mine - they will be taking yours instead.” Several expressions came over Jaegar’s face - anger, hurt, resignation, determination, duty - yes duty - the good whipping boy knew his place. I could smell the cheesey, unwashed head of the first thug’s dick when he dropped his boxers. Disgusting. The second thug stood beside me and cleared a few more lines, then he too undressed. He smelled nothing like my father, or uncles, or cousins. He too was clearly unwashed, but the aroma was not unpleasant and I had a fleeting desire to reach out and touch him. To feel the heft of his long, black dick. To slide my tongue around the bulbous head. To taste….NEIN! NO! I would not. The thugs stood side by side with a naked Jaegar at their feet. While they finished their smokes they guided Jaegar’s mouth first from one dick, to the next, until both were sloppy wet with his spit. Then with brutal efficiency and strength the thugs had Jaegar on his hands and knees on the bed ready to get the full 20+inches of punishment they were being well paid to dole out. Jaeger turned his head towards me and begged, “Heinrich, PLEASE?!” He never used my name - why would he - except on a few rare occasions when he had tried to comfort me. Thinking of that, him seeing my weakness, made me wanted him to be punished all the more. “Do it.” I ordered. The thugs laughed, one of them grabbed Jaegar’s head and he started gagging and choking on the rough, thug dick. I snorted another line and smiled as the second thug spit on his dick, spit on Jager’s clenched ass, slapped his ass hard several times and ordered him to relax before he he mounted him and started fucking with no mercy. I snorted another line and smiled. YES - Jaegar’s body was shaking from pain, “Fuck him harder!” I ordered, and the thugs complied, skewering Jaegar’s throat and ass with brutal strokes of raw black dick. As the thug fucking his throat pulled back and released Jaegar’s head so he could adjust his angle, Jaeger turned, his eyes met mine, and there was something about the pain I saw there that I did not like. I quickly looked away, grabbed the tray and snorted two more lines. The thug who was fucking Jaegar pulled out his ass, Jaeger winced, choked on the dick in his mouth, but stayed in position. I held the tray up as the thug walked over, his black dick twitching, covered in spit, and the blood and juice of Jaegar’s ass. “Taste it,” the thug demanded in a quiet whisper. He was standing so close now, blocking my vision of Jaegar. I craned my neck and looked up into his face. My hand shook as the thug snorted a line, I set the tray down and turned my head. The thug walked back to the bed, remounted Jaeger and it was not long before he announced, “GETTING READY TO CUM UP IN THAT ASS - FUCKING HELL, TIGHT HOLE - TAKE THIS FUCKIN NUTT MAN…” I watched in utter fascination as the thug slam fucked Jaegaer with all out abandon. His hips and thighs were hitting Jaegar with full force as his monster BBC turned that ass inside out. My father and uncles fucked like girly robots compared to this guy and something about it was mesmerizing to watch, to hear, to wonder about. The thug shook his head, wiped the sweat from his brow, and pulled his dick out of Jaegar’s now cum filled ass. Jaegar grunted and as the thug fucking his throat let go of his head, Jaegar lifted his hips up, laid his chest down on the bed, offering his torn and bloody ass for the second round of gut beating. The thug who was now back in front of me cleaning up one side of the tray of coke laughed and said, “Your boy took that like a fucking champ. He’s not a virgin any more, that’s for fucking sure.” His body was blocking the view of the bed again, but I heard Jaegar grunt - the second guy must have just mounted him. The thug set the tray down, leaned forward and demanded once more in a quiet whisper, “Taste it.” I turned my head slightly, but the site of his still throbbing and hard dick was fascinating, more so knowing that the streaks of red, mixed with white gobs, was the effect of Jaeger’s bloody ass and the thug’s cum. I quickly licked his gory shaft clean then stumbled as I stood up and grabbed the tray and said, “We need more supplies.” The thug laughed and walked back towards the bed. When I sat back down in the chair, the silver tray coated with many lines of white cocaine once more, a shiver ran up my spine. The thug that had just cum inside Jaegar was now fucking his throat, but was looking at me. He had a twisted smirk on his face, the smirk of someone who had a secret or had won a game. Jaegar’s eyes were closed as the second thug fucked him rougher and harder than the first if that was possible. I smiled thinking he was in pain and that his punishment was almost complete, but stopped - Jaeger was moaning, he was rocking his body back and forth meeting every thrust of the BBC - he was fucking enjoying it! NO! I was jealous of his pleasure, and angered that he was not being punished as he should have been. He was the one who should have been used by my family that night. Not me. It was the whipping boy’s job to serve and to be punished - not MINE! “Slap him. Spank him. MAKE IT HURT!” I demanded. The two thugs looked at me, laughed, and the one who’s dick I tasted said, “Oh, his ass pussy hurts for sure.” That wasn’t good enough. I snorted two more lines, slammed the tray onto the table, got up, went to the closet, pulled the belts off my and Jaegar’s pants, took another $200 out of my wallet, stormed across the room and thrust the belts and cash towards the thugs. “MAKE - IT - HURT!!” I demanded again. The rhythmic sound of leather on skin, mixed with the grunts of pain from Jaegar was music to my ears and I sighed, satisfied, as I sat back down and grabbed the tray. The thugs were turning Jaegar’s back, thighs, and arms red with welted stripes as they fucked him from both ends. Jaegar’s body was shaking now - GOOD! The whipping boy was doing his duty, taking his punishment. The tempo of fucking and belt smacks picked up as the second thug got ready to breed Jaegar too, “TAKE THIS BLACK DICK IN THAT WHITE PUSSY - SLOPPY PUSSY - LET ME TAKE THAT SECOND HOLE - OWN THAT SHIT - THAT PUSSY MINE! HERE IT COMES - FLOODING THEM GUTZ OUT - FLOODING THAT PUSSY HOLE - PLANTING THAT SHIT DEEP IN...AAAARRRRGGGHHHHH…!!!!” I was now leaning forward in the chair, transfixed on this scene of abuse, use, and decadence. I smiled in satisfaction as Jaegar winced when the dick was yanked out of his now tender hole. I smiled as Jaegar dropped onto his stomach on the bed, his sides heaving. I smiled at the red criss cross marks that layered his skin now. The second thug walked over and stood in front of me blocking my view of the bed as I held up the silver tray. He snorted deep and hard and as he took his fill I eyed his still hard shaft. It was thicker than the first one, but like his was still raging hard and coated in red, gobs of white, and more. The slit was wide open, glistening long strands still pumping out and without asking I guided it to my mouth and licked him clean savoring the taste of Jaegar’s punishment. I set the tray down, the thugs started to get dressed over by Jaegar who was now sitting up on the edge of the bed with a look on his face I had never seen before. I stood up, walked into the bathroom and splashed cold water over my face. I patted my face dry, walked back out into the room and stopped cold. Jaegar was standing in the middle of the floor, his big dick sticking straight out, as were the horse sized BBC’s of the thugs who were standing on each side of him. “Jaegar?” I asked. The sound of leather on skin echoed throughout the room as Jaegar slapped the two belts into the open palm of his left hand. He took a step forward and said, “NOW IT’S TIME FOR YOU TO LEARN WHO THE REAL MASTER IS AND WHO IS REALLY THE WHIPPING BOY.”

I have found that many of the straight and DL ('down low') guys I have - and still - connect with are into rape/'rape play' and for them it's about the power, getting off and fucking without meaning it's a 'gay thing', the thrill of the extreme and taboo, etc. I believe there are lines between rape and 'rape play' and no matter how you define them, someone will object or disagree or argue and I would never wish to diminish the pain or someone's feeling who felt they were truly violated. For me, I've had a lot of rough/'rape play' sex and loved it - but not always at the time it happened or in that exact moment so I thought, yet in hindsight I did. I used to have a straight BBC fuck buddy who got off on finding some random street dude to bring to my house, watch the guy fuck and breed me and then send him on his way, then my buddy would 'rape' my ass. It was never about what position was good for me, lube or not, poppers or not, he just wanted a hole to ram hard, raw, and breed as long and however he wanted it. Sometimes 5 minutes, sometimes 5 hours depending on what drugs he was on. There was always a bit of edge, fear, taboo, pleasure, pain, post fuck guilt that lasted all of 2 minutes before I was wondering when he would call me again. One night, a guy he brought to my house seemed sketchy from the start, but I figured it was just me being paranoid from partying. Things quickly progressed and I eagerly wanted him as his dick was huge, he was a total thug, even just watching me suck this guy made my buddy hard and horned, which made me excited. Because of his size I tried to orchestrate the position and more, but he got rough and started fucking me the way he wanted, I resisted, he got rougher - and harder and more horned the more I did so. At that moment I said no, wanted him to stop, and me trying to do that released all chains holding both of them back. My BBC buddy had found a dude even more into rape fucking than he was and they urged each other on. Long story short, that was the first time my buddy had ever let another guy stay longer than a quick nutt and together they 'raped' me throughout the good part of a day. For me, after that initial moment, I knew I wanted it and while it hurt, also enjoyed it and also knew what they wanted and played along so they heard what they wanted to. I had the post-fuck, "What the hell did I do guilt," but also was eager for next time I could see either or both of them again and was glad when I did.

Thanksgiving dinner was in less than three hours, yet there I was, bent over my couch with the building’s handyman filling me with his own, personal gravy! This was my year to host the ‘orphan’ Thanksgiving dinner. I have a group of friends who have neither family nor significant others, so we get together and have our own holiday occasions. I had gone all out this year - turkey, ham, pies, all the trimmings, and the condo looked great! My dealer had dropped off a huge supply of the strongest 420 in DC, the liquor store delivery took up an entire extra table, and I even had a local landscaper come and deck out my balcony with seasonal flowers and plants and provide inside greenery - everything was perfect and all that was left was to finish cooking and do some last minute cleaning and tidying up. That is until the thermostat went bonky and decided that the only setting it could do was ‘hotter than the underside of Hell’. I frantically called the front desk and they were their usual, unhelpful selves, but said they would put a call into the condos’ handymen to see who might be able to help, but they were all off for the holiday so no guarantee. While the weather was not horribly cold yet, I didn’t relish the idea of having to leave the balcony door open all afternoon and evening just to try to stop my guests from burning up. In the meantime, I propped the door open, pulled a fan out of storage, and got back to stirring, whisking, and basting. About 30 minutes later I heard someone yell, “MAINTENANCE!” then heard the sound of keys and swearing. I dropped the spoon I had in my hand, grabbed a towel, wiped the streams of sweat off my face and barely took two steps out of the kitchen before I saw one of the handymen in my condo hallway. First I was pissed that he just let himself in, but then was relieved that someone actually showed, so I tried to smile. My smile faded fast when I realized who it was - Jointer Jim. That’s not his real name of course, but that’s what everyone called him. Our building handymen are an odd looking trio - one is an older, extremely overweight man who is literally wider than he is tall; the second is a young guy who is handsome, clean cut, and always polite; the third is Jointer Jim. He is tall, lanky, middle aged, and missing the index and middle finger on his right hand and the worst disposition in the world! Always pissed, angry, rude, condescending, and a total asshole. Fuck! Jointer Jim lost his two fingers from fucking around in shop class in Jr. High. I guess his real name was James or Jim. He set his tool box down by the mini-bar I had set up, grabbed a bottle of whiskey, and boldly opened it, poured himself a huge drink, and gulped it down, then set the empty glass back down with a BANG. He gave me a twisted grin, wiped the remnants of drink off his chin, and asked, “What’s so fucking urgent that my phone gets blown up on my day off?” I was stressed and sarcastically said, “Why don’t you pour yourself another - sounds like you NEED it - and if you don’t realize the problem yet, maybe you are not the right man for the job,” and then walked back into the kitchen. I was in no mood for dealing with him and thought right then that sending him away might be the best thing. I heard his tools clanging as he dug around in his bag and tried to ignore that he was there as I went back to prepping food in the kitchen. A few minutes later I was shocked back into focus as I caught a whiff of something that was not cooking in the kitchen and went back out to the living room. There was Jim, bold as fuck, smiling as he exhaled a cloud of smoke from my good 420. I don’t smoke, but find it sexy when a top does, and for just a split second my ass pulsed in hunger. Then my anger flared as I said, “What the fuck do you think you are doing? Ever think of asking first? That’s for my guests!” He just smiled, took another hit, then grabbed the TV remote and said, “I’m going to watch the game a bit while I finish this.” It was not a question, just the demand of a rude asshole. I growled, “Fine. But they’ll be here for dinner at 6:00 and it would be nice if my place was not a sweatbox, and if all my drink and shit was not gone before then.” Dinner prep was hard to focus on as I continued to fume about his attitude and then I realized I had not even asked if he had fixed the problem with the thermostat. I stomped back out to the living room to find Jim casually laid back on the couch, his feet up on the ottoman, drink in one hand and blunt in the other. He just gave me his cocky grin and a flick of wrist toward the wall. I walked over, the thermostat seemed to be working fine again and he had set it back down to comfortable 70 degrees. I turned, he exhaled followed by a small cough, I grit my teeth and said, “Thank you,” and left him as I went back into the kitchen. I heard the balcony door close and the blinds coming down and when I stepped out of the kitchen Jim just looked at me with a fuck off grin. I shook my head and went back into the kitchen. I could hear the sounds of the game from the TV, smell the heavy cloud of weed, picturing him in my mind with his feet up and that ‘fuck you’ grin. I stopped - the sounds had changed - it was no longer the cheering of a roaring crowd but the demanding voices of a mandingo gangbang - shit! I scurried back out of the kitchen and stopped. There was Jointer Jim, his pants down around his ankles weighted to the floor by his massive set of maintenance keys. His legs were skinny, his hip bones showed either from the angle of the light or from how thin he was. Jim moaned as he looked at me, his blunt held between his teeth, his upper lip curled on the end in a smirk. He then took his blunt out, let a long, thick drool of spit descend from his dry lips like a leaf slowly falling from a great Oak tree, which landed mid-shaft on his dark, ebony wood. I gasped a little as Jim used the spit to slick his dick with his clawed hand - there was something wild and taboo about watching his fucked up hand jack his mighty rod. He turned full towards me and said, “Get on your knees fag boy and suck my dick. I know you want to.” A mix of anger at his assumption and excitement knowing how much I desired his dick right then washed over me. I started to protest, “I...I’m not a fa….” Jim snarled, “STOP RIGHT THE FUCK THERE. Yes you ARE! You forget - COCK SUCKER - I’ve been here before. I’ve seen your pile of porn flicks. Not this stuff that I’m sure you haul out for the DL brothas, but that nasty shit you usually have stacked at the bottom of the pile - you know what I’m talking about.” Yeah, I did, and even managed to blush just a little, which made him laugh and choke on his smoke. Serves him right. “Come on then, hike that skirt up and get on your knees and gag on my dick like a good cock sucker. Then if you do me right, maybe - just maybe - I will dig them guts out and give you some real man juice,” Jim tempted. All thoughts of dinner prep went out of my head as I watched him hit the blunt and his dick start to swell with blood as it engorged itself in the delights of the porn flick. I quickly stumbled out of my pants, knelt on the wool carpet, and hefted his meaty dick up to eye level. It stared back at me, winked, and drooled a little. I spit on the head, Jim laughed, and as I guided the phat head to my mouth he said in between puffs, “THAT’S IT FAG BOY... ...OPEN THEM LIPS… ...LET ME HEAR YOU GAG ON MY SHIT… ...GIVE ME THAT SLOPPY NECK… ...CHOKE ON MY SWEATY DICK… ...I AIN’T WASHED MY MEAT IN ABOUT A WEEK, THAT’S WHAT PUSSY MOUTHS ARE FOR… ...TAKE YOUR TIME, THERE AIN’T NO RUSH… ...THAT’S RIGHT, GET IT NICE AND WETT SO IT’LL GO IN SWEET AND DEEP INTO THAT ASS… ...I DON’T FUCK EASY, NOT AT ALL, SO IF YOU CAN’T TAKE IT LIKE A BROTHA GIVES IT, YOU BETTER SWALLOW MY NUTT.... ...OH YOU PAUSING NOW? WONDERING IF IT’LL FIT?... ...BEND THAT FAG ASS OVER, LET ME MAKE IT FIT!” “Can I get the poppers and lube?” I pleaded. Jointer Jim stamped out the finished blunt, “No. I’m trying to stuff that tummy MY WAY! I like a bitch who tells me it hurts, cries that my dick is stretching them walls, putting her on her period - so you trying to get nasty and get bitch fucked and that pussy hole super soaked, or we done?” I mumbled a pathetic, “Yes,” and he slapped my face and said, “Speak up faggot bitch - let your BBC Master hear you!” So I did. I debased myself for his pleasure, and every plea and whimper and second of pathetic begging made his onyx monster grow and harden. “That’s what I like to hear,” Jim chuckled, “Hungry ass that’s need that itch scratched, that hole broken, them guts shredded - well you better hang onto your panties cause I’m about to get down and bang that hole WIDE-THE-FUCK-OPEN!” Jim’s clawed hand snapped close across my face as he leaned over me - my submissive body kneeling on the ottoman, my hole wet and eager to feel him push inside. As his throbbing knob punctured my outer ring, Jim tapped the remote and turned up the volume of the rape scene on the porn flick to drown out my own cries. His long arms squeezed my sides, his claw clamped tighter across my mouth and face while he began to rape fuck my hole. There’s something hot as hell about a top who takes what he wants, fuck like he wants, forces a bottom to serve him the way he wants - and I was totally willing to let him use me any way he needed. The long, black dick pulled almost all the way out, angled to the left and SLAMMED back in. I yelped, whined, and cried out. Jointer Jim laughed and did it again. He then shifted his stance to scrape the other side of my guts before just slamming my bussy straight on. “FUCKING JUICY PUSSY HOLE - TOTAL BITCH - THAT’S ALL YOU IS - NASTY, MOTHA FUCKIN BITCH HOLE.” I yowled like an alley cat in heat when Jim yanked his dick out of my now gaping hole. He walked over to wall where the thermostat was, bent down, rooted around in his toolbox and laughed like a trickster as he stepped back behind me. “AIN’T NOTHING BUT FUCKING AIR - CHRIST YOU A HUNGRY ASSED FAG - LOOK AT THAT SHIT - EATS IT RIGHT TO THE HILT,” Jointer Jim said while he tested the elasticity of my now-broken ass ring with the large handle of a screw driver. Not satisfied with my response he shifted a large hammer into his clawed hand, the rough wooden handle pointed at my quivering chute, “OH HELL YEAH - YOU FEEL THAT - CAN TELL BY HOW THAT BACK ARCHES, THOSE HIPS DROP, JUST LIKE YOU READY TO DROP SOME BABIES. YOU EAGER FOR MY MANDINGO BABIES? BREED THAT PUSSY? BAREBACK THAT FUCK HOLE? RIDE THAT ASS RAW SOME MORE? FUCKING SLUT!” I started to buck my ass, riding that wooden handle, trying to feel the metal hammer head kiss my cheeks when Jointer Jim yanked it out, dropped the sloppy tool to the floor with a clang, leaned back over and began to rape fuck my ass again. “YOU WANT THIS NICCA CUM? TELL ME WHAT A SLUT YOU ARE? BEG FOR MY SHIT - BEG FOR MY NICCA BABIES - BEG FOR ME TO TEAR THAT ASS END TO END AND SIDEWAYS - OH YEAH - THAT’S IT - STROKE IT WITH THAT SILKY HOLE - STROKE MY DICK - STROKE MY MOTHA FUCKIN DICK - COME ON - PUSH IT BACK - RIDE THAT SHIT - RIDE IT! HARDER - HARDER SLUT BITCH - YOU WANT THIS NUTT? RIDE THAT SHIT HARDER! FUCK YEAH! DUMB ASS FAGGOT - FUCK YEAH - SHOW ME THAT ASS NEEDS THIS DICK DEEP - WANT IT DEEPER? HERE YOU FUCKING GO - GETTING CLOSE - FUCK YEAH - GETTING CLOSE - WHERE YOU WANT THIS NUTT? HUH? WHERE YOU WANT THIS NUTT? WANT ME SHOOT IT INSIDE THAT FAG PUSSY? THAT’S WHERE YOU WANT IT? HERE YOU GO FUCKA - HERE YOU GO - HELL YEAH! TAKE THIS NICCA NUTT - TAKE IT! TAKE IT! MILK MY DICK! TAKE IT….” Thanksgiving dinner was in less than three hours, yet there I was, bent over my couch with the building’s handyman filling me with his own, personal gravy! Jointer Jim’s nutt started to froth out of my ass as he continued to pump my hole and I had to ask, “Can you cum again?”

The latest strain of JP’s virus shot out of his piss slit like a SPACE X rocket and quickly went to work colonizing itself in the lining of my ass and guts. I sighed in satisfaction, feeling the fullness of his dick, the warmth of his cum, the rough scraping of his fingernails down my sides as he shivered in orgasmic release. We were resting in post-fuck bliss when our smart watches started to beep and flash - another fucking lockdown. All week the base had gone through a series of ever tightening security measures since the media broke the news. How did they know that the story the government had successfully sold to the American people for the past 30 years was not true? That Patient Zero - the man to blame for the AIDs epidemic in the United States was not a Canadian flight attendant? That the real track of the virus was from Zaire, to Haiti, to New York City in the late 1960s and early 1970s? I shivered in fear as I thought about what might come next: that Jean Pierre might be named - that we might be separated - that the world would find out about Project Unicorn and that Patient Zero was my brother, my lover, my husband. I chuckled and shook my head and wiped the sweat from my face as JP (Jean Pierre, but I always called him JP) caressed my forehead with a gentle touch, then leaned in and even more gently kissed me. He knew what I was thinking. He always knew. It had been that way since we were kids, and as he flipped me over onto my stomach and slammed his 11-inch dick back into my nutt filled hole he asked, “Hey B, You ready for some more unicorn seed?” JP always called me B. It used to be short for ‘boy’ - his first English word. Now it was just short for ‘daddy’s bitch’ when JP went into ‘top daddy mode’ during our sex games and role play. JP yanked me up onto my hands and knees and cuffed my head, forcing me to lay my chest down onto the mattress so he could scrape my insides with a deep fuck. Load #2 was always rougher - load #3 would take him an hour of fucking, pure beastial brutal fucking - and he was not satisfied until my ass pussy was swollen, black and blue, and my body was marked as his inside and out. Fuck I loved this man! As JP started slightly snoring, exhausted from dropping three buckets of viral cum in me. I reached out to grab his hand and held it as I thought back to how our story began. I was four years old the first time I met JP. He was eight and covered head to toe in a viral suit, a Center for Disease Control (CDC) Personal Protective Equipment (PPE) suit, complete with a hood and face mask. It was 1972 and they didn’t have PPEs for kids back then, so the suit fit him awkwardly, especially as my Dad and the other CDC doctors had used duct tape to tighten it in certain spots to he would not fall over when he tried to walk. I thought it was funny, but from the anger on JP’s face, and the scolding I received from my Father, I learned I was wrong. One day I was playing with the kids at my babysitter's house while Dad was at work, and the next we were in some new house, surrounded by boxes, and all I could see outside was a fence that I was told I could not go past. Beyond the fence I soon learned was a whole, new world. A world full of fighter jets, tanks, men in uniform, and from that day on Dad and I, (and soon JP), lived smack dab in the center of one of the largest, most secure, and secretive military installations in the country. Naturally the military installation also happened to be in the middle of bum-fuck-no-where! For the next two years I saw JP for a several hours every day as he and I played together in one of the labs. We found 101 ways to entertain ourselves and excelled at role play. JP was always the good guy or dominant one, even though I was the physically boy of the two of us. He was the cop, I was the robber. He was the cowboy, I was the Indian. Whatever it was, JP was always in charge. He was never without his PPE, but I didn’t think anything of it after asking my Dad why he had to wear it and Dad’s answer was “Because he’s special.” Knowing now that JP is Patient Zero and that all AIDs roads lead back to him, you might well ask 'Why did my Dad let us play?' Well, he was an angry, frightened, and often violent kid and I remember hearing Dad tell one of his techs that I was a calming influence on JP. In addition JP was always in that damn suit. JP was the only kid with whom I was allowed to play. On the occasion of my sixth birthday party Dad asked if I would like to have JP live with us as part of the family. That was the best birthday gift ever and the next day - my actual birthday - JP moved into our house on the base. Not only did I have a new brother, but JP didn’t have to wear his PPE anymore. There were still rules - and Dad made me my brother’s keeper to ensure the rules were obeyed . For instance, JP had to wear gloves on his hands at all times, long sleeve shirts and pants, and if he ever tripped or cut himself, we had to hit a big, red alarm button by the front door and the house would be immediately swarmed by techs from Dad’s lab who would check us over, clean up, and sharply remind us to be careful. Still, I could not resist touching JP when we were alone. JP would always pull away quickly and scold me whenever I sneaked a touch to his neck or some other small, bare patch of his ebony body. The feel of his skin, the warmth of his body through his clothes, the look in his eyes, which I now know was of the basic human need to be loved. Anyone else who touched JP was a lab tech who often had a needle to prick him with or some machine to hook him up to. I don't believe even my Father actually touched JP. I was the only person in JP’s life who saw him just as he was: a scared, lonely boy. JP shifted in his sleep. I smiled and reached down to caress his hardening dick. Fuck - even after all that, and all the years being together, and the hundreds of times he has cum inside me, JP is still a fucking nympho! In my teens our roles reversed. I became the wild, angry child and JP was the calming figure in our lives. I got caught trying to sneak onto a fighter jet, hiding out in the Army barracks as I tried to figure out how to run away, gambling with Marines using Dad’s gold watch as my bet, smoking and drinking with some Navy guys with stuff I stole from dad’s locked cabinet in the basement, and more. Through it all, JP was there. He never gave up on me, never got angry, and always made sure to tell me I was loved. My Father, on the other hand, was quick to remind me that I was brilliant, but stupid in the ways of life. I was brilliant, I guess, so even with only the home schooling I had received from the tutors Dad had hired for JP and me, I was accepted at an Ivy League school just after my seventeenth birthday. At the time JP was 21 and the day I left for college was the first time I ever saw him cry. The sight made me angry - a reaction I regret to this day. I don’t know why I got angry, but the look of hurt and pain in JP’s eyes when I snapped at him and told him I couldn’t wait to leave, forever haunts me. Well, long story short, I crashed and burned. Having total freedom, having a whole new world to explore, have no one literally guarding me day and night, I knew no boundaries and no barriers. Drugs, alcohol, sex - I did them all to the extreme. It was now 1986. AIDs was a major news story and had been for a few years. My Dad had even made sure I knew all about safe sex and at the time, I did not know why he was so insistent about that and never made a connection to JP, but when I went to college I knew all the steps that one should take to protect oneself - and I did none of them. For me it was not about being gay or whatever, it was just about having fun. Extreme fun. And the first time I took raw dick in my ass I was hooked. Yeah, I was addicted to the thrill of danger, the rush, and just the general fact that raw dick felt 1,000% percent better than a dick with a rubber. My ass was put against so many bookstore glory holes and taken so much anonymous cum I imagine I was directly responsible for the dramatic rise in the profit margins of the local sex venues. JP’s dick was now streaming a continuous line of venomous, toxic fluid. I carefully dipped my finger into the small puddle forming on tight abdomen and then licked it clean. Fuck even at 52, JP’s 5’8”, 150 pound body was still pure, lean muscle. My hole twitched, but I decided to let him sleep a little while longer. Back to our story. My world collapsed. Dad had a heart attack and I got kicked out of college for catastrophically failing, so, I went home where I decided it was time to grow up. Not only did I help Dad during his recovery, but I easily stepped in and helped cover for him at his lab. I also tried to make things up with JP. I felt bad. I really did. And while he seemed generally okay, occasionally I would still see the pain in his eyes when he looked at me. All I saw when I looked at him was a fucking hot black man with a monster BBC and I was determined to get it. You may think that Truveda and PrEP is a medical advance from 2014 or so. Nope. The U.S. Government knew all about Prep by the mid 1980’s and it was created, thanks to JP. Before I left for college Dad had told me I had an iron deficiency or some shit and made me promise to take the pills he gave me every single day and told me that if I didn’t I would have a stroke. Well that scared the life out of me! Surprisingly, taking those pills was the only thing I actually did do right during those months and it wasn’t until I was back home, covering for my Dad in the lab that I learned the truth: those pills were an early form of PrEP. They were just as effective as the current version, if not more so. That wasn’t the only thing about which Dad had lied - okay, well, not actually lied, but had not told me everything. There was JP. I spent hours and hours reading all his ‘secret and classified’ files: JP was Patient Zero. He was born in Zaire, in Kinshasha, in what is now the Democratic Republic of Congo. His parents had been labelled collaborators with the Belgian colonialists and when JP was about three his parents were killed and he was sex trafficked - literally sold - to some Haitian soldiers who were in the country helping keep the peace. He was taken to Haiti, where he was sold again to some asshole from New York City and was then taken there, where the horrors continued. That’s where my Dad found him in late 1971. My Dad is unbelievably brilliant and could see disease vectors and track viral clues like a bloodhound after a raccoon. His files show he told the CDC he was conducting tests of standard vaccination protocols in New York City. What he was really doing was tracking Patient Zero. He was looking for the source of a new virus, one he had seen in Haiti, and which he had followed to America. JP was rescued and my Dad forever felt guilty about not having found him sooner. The files referenced how JP had coped with the trauma, how he acted numb, almost unresponsive when he was first brought to the base. How only after he and I had started being playmates had they seen a glimmer of change, and then real hope once he had moved in with us. The files also detailed Project Unicorn - the U.S. Government’s efforts to slice, dice, and use JP as a fucking guinea pig for more untold horrors. They were especially intrigued by the fact that JP’s AIDs virus would mutate and evolve every year or so, seemingly randomly. My Dad even wrote in one file, “NO MATTER HOW MUCH THIS PAINS ME, THIS BOY’S LIFE IS WORTH NOTHING COMPARED TO SAVING THE WORLD.” JP was Patient Zero. JP was the nation’s father of the AIDs epidemic. JP’s virus - then and now - was like nothing the CDC had ever seen. It changed, mutated, grew to toxic levels no biology should ever be able to endure, yet JP thrived. He never got sick. He didn’t waste away. All drugs were withheld from him. No treatment ever given. That fucking pissed me off; knowing my Dad and the government, had abused him all over again. Clinically I understood why, but personally I realized, right then, how much I loved JP. I had always loved JP. Now what was I going to do about it? Project Unicorn 2.0 - my plan to get JP’s raw AIDs dick and have him infect me so we would be together forever. Crazy? Fuck yeah! Worth it? FUCK YEAH! JP had sacrificed - without a choice - so much for so many and no one would ever know. It was time someone sacrificed for him. Step 1: Stop Prep - I flushed a bottle full of my ‘iron deficiency’ pills down the drain. I would lie to my Dad if I had to, but my mind and heart were set. Step 2: Find out what JP knows about sex - On a military base getting gay porn, even back in the mid to late 80s was damn easy. Dad was gone for a couple days getting checked at Bethesda Naval Hospital, so I was home, alone, with JP. I got naked, plopped myself on the couch, popped in the video, and waited for JP to get home from his daily check in at the lab. He walked in, saw two black guys tag fucking a white bottom, grabbed his dick, shook his head, and literally ran to his bedroom and locked the door. I banged on his door, pleaded for him to open up as I ‘apologized’. Nothing except heavy breathing and a gasp. Yeah, I knew what jacking off sounded like. Step 2: Touch that dick - I left for the lab as normal, but immediately backtracked, sneaked in through the garage, and waited in the side entry hall until I heard the shower in JP’s bathroom start. I waited another minute, then knocked, “Hey JP, mind if I piss? Damn you know how that coffee runs right through me and the other toilet is not working,” I announced as I walked into the steam-filled bathroom, flipped the toilet lid up with a loud SMACK, and chuckled as JP fumbled, mumbled, and tried to hide the big top tent he was creating as his hard dick poked against the shower curtain. JP had his own bathroom for ‘safety’ reasons, and I lied about the other toilet. Once I finished pissing, I closed the toilet lid, sat down, and asked JP what was up. The curtain pulled back, then shut quickly as JP realized his monster hard on was peaking out. I boldly stood up, yanked the curtain back. JP’s reflexes kicked in and he wrapped his arms around his chest. I smiled, and with no place for him to run reached out and gently stroked his hard dick. Oh my fucking God! The look on JP’s face. Shock. Shame. Guilt. Desire. Lust. Need. Acceptance. Demanding I finish what I started. Without another word I started stroking his dick, using the water of the shower and the lather of the soap to make my hand slick, warm, wet, moist, and just what JP needed. JP tried to stop me only once, “Please don’t,” he pleaded, “I...I’m...it’s not safe...I can’t...I….” I replied “I know,” as I stroked him harder and faster. In less than 60 seconds he blew the biggest fucking load of cum I had ever seen. JP immediately gasped, pulled back to the far end of the shower, I smiled, wiped my hand on a towel and said, “See you tonight when I get home!” Step 3: Remove the barriers - Bethesda decided to keep Dad for several weeks for tests, observation, and to tap his expertise. For me, I could not have asked for a better plan. That night I came home, made dinner, set the table, opened a bottle of wine, and when JP sheepishly came in I took his gloved hands, held them tight, gently removed one glove, then the other. Once his hands were free he looked like a scared rabbit ready to run. I cupped his hands between mine and brought them up to my face. First I had him touch my right cheek, then my left. Opening his palms, I smiled, bent down a little and kissed them. He tried to flinch, but I had expected that and held firm, then casually said, “I hope you’re hungry. I made too much I think.” For the rest of dinner I smiled as JP kept stopping and staring at his hands. It had been a far too long since he had been around any other living soul without his gloves on. I even reached out several times to touch the back of his hand, to press against his wrist as I grabbed the salt, to brush against his knuckles as I set my glass down. JP smiled. Step 4: Take that nutt in my ass - The next few days and nights I replicated the success of that first day. It was torture for me as I wanted nothing more than his AIDs-filled dick slamming my hole, but I knew I had to be cautious. I would ‘accidently’ catch him in the shower and by the fifth day JP had the shower curtain pulled back and was eagerly waiting for me to stroke him off. At dinner that night we both were sitting at the table naked. JP had never even slept naked in his own bed. We laughed and smiled, genuinely enjoying the freedom of the moment. I freely rubbed my hand up and down JP’s arm, making the skin ripple with goose bumps. JP got up to go piss. I followed JP and stood in the bathroom doorway as he sighed in exultation from the release on his bladder. I licked my lips, wanting to taste and swallow that salty offering, but knew I would soon enough. JP stopped, I handed him his drink and remained in the doorway as he scrunched his face and downed the entire glass as I casually tipped it up with my right index finger. He laughed, reached out and spanked my right butt cheek. I turned around, set my glass on the floor and said, “Spank it harder.” JP tapped my right cheek lighter than a church lady. “Harder,” I urged. The next slap was better, but not enough. The third, hell yeah - I yelped, raised up on my toes in reflex to get away, and as JP apologized profusely I turned, and kissed him. Big, open mouth, sloppy, wet, tongue fuck kiss. JP had a look on his face like a UFO had just landed in our backyard and the little green men had said, “Take me to your leader.” I spit into my hand, reached down, and stroked his dick. At eleven inches it was pretty fucking long, and he was also quite thick. Could I take it? I didn’t know at the time, but sure the fuck was going to make it happen if it literally killed me trying. JP was quivering as I spit on his dick a few more times and continued stroking him. He grabbed the door jam, tilted his head back and gasped with pleasure. I paused, spat in my hand again and when JP did not feel me resume stroking his shaft he looked at me, looked at where my hand was and literally gasped. I BENT FORWARD, LINED UP JP’S RAW MONSTER AGAINST MY GREEDY HOLE, AND CRIED OUT IN PAIN AND JOY AS I PUSHED BACK, IMPALING MYSELF ON HIS RAW, TOXIC, PLUNGER. JP’S ENTIRE BODY SHOOK. HE BABBLED SOMETHING IN FRENCH I DID NOT QUITE CATCH. THEN HE SLAMMED ME AGAINST THE WALL AS YEARS WORTH OF NEED, DESIRE, AND WANT CAME GUSHING OUT AND HE BLEW THE FIRST OF MANY LOADS INTO MY WELCOMING ASS. After that first release JP’s guilt almost did him. Actually, almost did us both in. He felt shame, feeling he had done wrong. After all he knew the dangers, that he was Patient Zero, he knew that like the biblical prophets he had left waste and destruction and death in his wake. Hours later, after holding him, telling him over and over how much I loved him, needed him, wanted him inside, he seemed to get it, at least for the moment. The second and third breeding, while more brutal than the first, set the chemical and physical bond between us. JP has woken up from his nap, slipped his black and white ‘thug’ bandana down onto his forehead, cocked his head so I can see the part cut down to the scalp, and said, “Show me that fucking pussy!” He’s asleep again now, a small smile on his face, and I gently touch the little half moon curves where his upper and lower lips meet. Fuck, he’s sexy! My ass is throbbing - maybe for the next fuck he will take me to one of the base gloryholes? So, back to our story. That first night was all it took to poz me. Dad was still at Bethesda but within 48-hours I had the fuck flu so bad I begged - literally begged JP to grab an MP’s gun and shoot me. His response? He fucked me some more. He was a wild man. The best had been unleashed. He had had found his lover, his soulmate and reconnected with his best - and only - friend - and he fucked me over and over and over. I had so much AIDs venom running through me I could have taken out a nest of rattlesnakes and a pit of scorpions! When Dad finally came home from Bethesda he didn't seem to be surprised to see JP and me holding hands, no gloves in sight, or to learn we were a couple. I was ready for a fight, but Dad just smiled, hugged us both, and said he hoped we would be happy together but we had to understand what this meant. For JP, not much would change. For me, I was now Patient #1. I was the only person that my father could prove beyond a doubt was infected directly by Patient Zero. I became his next test subject. The following years were a series of tests, trials, poking and prodding, but as long as JP and I were together, it was all good. Sexually, we explored every wild and kick ass scene and thing we could. There are some nasty, twisted, freaky mother fuckers on military bases let me tell you. JP discovered about 10 years ago there was a gloryhole in one of the Air Force maintenance warehouses. Every Friday and Saturday night he would have me bent over, sucking his monster truck rod, while some anonymous Air Force brat blew his seed in my hole. Once I was so full of cum I felt like I would bust, JP slam-fucked my ass. Anonymous cum sprayed everywhere until he filled me with his own loads. Often following such debauchery he would follow his cum with his piss. Our role play became more intense too and JP knew that I would literally do ANYTHING he asked or needed. There was no safe word as he liked to beat my hole up like it stole something. No permission asked. I was his - and his alone - just as JP was mine - and as my husband moaned, turned his head and opened his sleepy eyes, I slid my nutt filled ass all the way down his 11-inch dick and said, “FUCK ME WITH THAT UNICORN HORN!”