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This is my first ever story, I hope you enjoy! Please be gentle! I have an idea of where I am going with this story but would welcome your ideas and feedback. I will try and incorporate them into future posts. The Downfall of a Banker I know the working class hates us. I am one of the 1%. Those people you see vilified in the press and in the movies. Working for only a few hours a day to make millions a year. Only existing in the rarified world of the best restaurants, bars and hotels. I had been blessed with good looks. A sqaure jaw, flawless skin, blue eyes and raven black hair, 6 foot 3 inches in height. My muscles were honed to perfection in the gym. I am the ultimate version of masculinity. I had even featured on the cover of Men's Health as evidence you could balance, work, partying and gym. Obviously many women threw themselves at me. I had a different one in my bed most nights. However I never seemed to be able to keep a relationship. I worked at a well known investment bank in the city. Lived in a beautiful apartment in the best location and also had a small country estate to escape to when I needed to take a break from the city. You see not only did I make millions, but I also had inherited great wealth. I was born with the proverbial silver spoon. As such I had grown up with everyone respecting me and quite literally intimidated by my presence. I had greatly enjoyed using this power to get my way in the world. What I thought of as persuasion, most would consider bullying. However now I am in my early 30s and at the height of my power I am finding life less satisfying. The endless parties, sex and hangovers were starting to interest me less. The succession of models left me less sexually satisfied. I sometimes found I couldn't get a hard on. At first I started to blame the alcohol and partying. However one day on my way to work I passed a building site. What I saw there would ultimately change my life ... My usual driver had been ill and in a rare moment of compasion I had given him the morning off. I decided to rough it and use public transport. I am not sure what I was thinking that morning. Possibly I was also ill and not thinking clearly. As a result I had to walk the last part to work. Just around the corner of my bank there was a building site. It seemed to be run by skinheads. Their heads gleaming from where they had shaved their hair down to the scalp. I shuddered thinking about how I could never do that to my thick, glossy expensively cut hair which was treated and trimmed on a weekly basis. The skinheads bodies and necks were also covered in ugly tattoos, certainly I would never mare my beautifully soft, tanned and luminescent skin with such vulgar designs. They were dressed in filthy ripped clothes with Doc Martin boots laced up to their mid calfs. By contrast I was wearing a £5,000 tailored Jermyn Street blue suit, crisp handmade shirt with diamond studed cuff links, burgendy silk tie and handmade fine patent leather shoes. We could not be more different. At the same time my cock started to harden while listening to them talk in their coarse language. I couldn't understand what was happening to me. My erection was firmer then it had been in months and was clearly visible in my tightly tailored suit trousers. Why was this happening, I am so much better than them. Clearly my dithering and potent erection had not gone unnoticed by the skinhead gang. Not only were they the lowest scum of society but there were also clearly gay. They were leering at me and shouting profanities about what they wanted to do my perfect arse, ripping open my suit pants so they could fuck me hard. They kept saying they were going to bend me over an oil drum, tie my hands, use all my holes, spit on me and then leave me naked tied up on the site for all to use. My cock was leaking so much there was a wet patch on the front of my trousers. I could not understand my response. My brain could not compute my reaction at all. I'm straight!! Sure there had been fumbles with classmates at my boarding school, one night I even sucked a mate off, but quite frankly who hadn't!! Even if I was gay I would never even think of going with someone from a lower social class. I quickly gathered myself and ran the rest of the way to work. I spent the rest of the day totally distracted, thinking about what had happened that morning, imagining what would have happened if I had stayed. Even my boss noticed that I wasn't on planet Earth and sent me home. Thankfully it was Friday so I decided to immediately go out, meet friends, have a drink. Anything to basically distract me from what my mind kept flicking back to. The weekend turned into a blur of parties, champagne and women. I threw myself at every attractive women. I must have bedded a dozen over the course of the weekend. However I could not get an erection for any of them. They all left disappointed. I ofcourse blamed the huge amount of alcohol I had drunk. Many of them asked if I was gay, which I ofcourse denied, usually with a bouquet of profanities. However my nights were spent in tormemt. It didn't matter how much alcohol I drunk to make me pass out, every night I woke with the same image of me submitting to the un-named lead skinhead and his gang. Every night I would wake dripping in sweat as I ejaculated the biggest loads of my life. My silk boxers soaked through with my load, much larger than I had had with what I had thought was the most satisfying sex previously. I initially called in sick for the start of the week as I was not rested after my disjointed sleeping. However after a further day spent flipping between drunken oblivion and completely unsatifying sexual intercourse I decided I needed to return to the routine of work to try and re-establish my equilibrium. I think my subconscious was in charge when I asked my driver to drop me off a little distance from work. He was shocked but I brushed him aside saying I needed some fresh air before work. Ofcourse I had to go past the same building site. This time the skinhead foreman was on his own. It was extremely early in the morning. My eyes caught his. He just stared intensely at me. I found my patent leather shoes were walking onto the site. As I came nearer to him, he just grabbed hold of my silk tie and pulled me into the most penetrating kiss I have ever had. The whole world stopped as I accepted his tongue into my mouth. His filthy hands grabbed hold of me, with one he cupped the back of my head, grabbed my hair to ensure his tongue went deeper into my mouth. He remarked the only benefit of my longish hair was that it was easier for him to control me. His other hand grabbed my pert bottom through my suit trousers so that all of my body was brought into him. I could smell him, a wonderful rich aroma of sweat and hard work. Suddenly he pulled away, my mouth felt empty, I leaned in to kiss him again. He stepped back out of my reach. He said I could not have any more until I showed him respect. At this point he just spat on my forehead. I was in complete shock at this. Ordinarily I would find this positively one of the most disgusting things that could be done to me. However as his saliva slowly dripped down my face all I could think of that he was marking me and how lucky I was to have received something from me. My erections was so hard. He obviously noticed this. He demanded I show him respect. I think my brain just froze, I could not think what to do. Thankfully he thought for me as he slapped me on my cheek, leaving a dirty mark on my alabaster skin, however it did the trick of firing up my brain to realise he had grabbed hold of my tie, was dragging me forward and down so that I was forced to sink to my knees in the filth of the building site mud. With his hand back gripping my hair he forced my mouth down to his boots. I understood what was needed as I showed my subservience by kissing his boots. Once I had demonstrated this submission he directed my face, via his forceful grip, to his crotch, where I started to lick his crotch. He then opened his zip and let loose his manhood. For the first time since my adolesence I looked at another mans penis. The glans of his penis glistened with pre-cum. It looked so tempting that I had to taste it. In that moment I accpeted his cock into my mouth. What I lacked in experience I made up for in enthusiasm as I gave him head. Within a few minutes I could feel the tension mount. Sure enough he soon proceded to cum, withdrawing from my mouth and spurting his sperm all over my face and hair which he then proceded to rub all over with his penis. At that same moment I also came without touching myself at all. Something that had never happened while I was conscious. This was demonsrated to him by how soaking wet the groin of my suit trousers were, this was by far the biggest and most satisfying orgasm of my life. Just after that moment a peace descended on me. It was only disturbed when my master then demanded payment. I was initally afronted by this as I thought he had just played me for my money. I think my anger was also fuelled by the fact I also realised why so many of my female sex partners were so hurt after I dropped them as I in effect bought them for the night by taking them out for dinner and then plying them with expensive alcohol. I had viewed sex in the past as a transaction, however what had just occured was not a transaction for me, it was a life changing event. Therefore when he said he did not want my money I was actually relieved. However what he wanted was so much more than money could buy. He wanted my humility. He retrieved a knife fromt the belt of his jeans. I should have been frightened but for some reason I had implicit trust in him. He said that to prove my humility I needed to remove my outer skin of the corporate uniform. He slowly and delibrately cut off all of my clothes.He started with my tie, then proceeded to my suit jacket. He continued until everything was shredded including my underwear, shoes and socks. I just let him do it, I had never felt so at peace. I felt as though the weight of the world was being lifted off me. There I was in the middle of a building site being slowly and deliberately stripped. Anyone could look in. However as each piece of my fine clothing was being iretrievably stripped from me I felt more and more free, until I was left standing completely naked and re-born. Only at the end of this did I suddenly think of my exposure. Standing fully naked in the middle of a building site just as the city was starting to wake up. However my new master, as I viewed him, provided for my modesty in his own way. He gave me his own filthy jockstrap. I wore it with pride. He made it clear my first sacrifce was to demonstrate my humility, further sacrifices would be made on my way to the person that I desired and needed to become. Before letting me go he decided that with my arse on show it should be reddened. He bent me over his lap and sensuously spanked me, which lead to another erection. I therefore walked home with nearly the whole of my body, especially my pert red bottom & dripping erection, exposed. People were looking at me as though I was crazy, but I felt so grounded, literally my bare feet in contact with the the filthy pavement, that realsim made me feel serene.
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I’ve seen this topic a few times and thought I’d add mine up and see how i compare to other bottoms. June was a really good month for me sexually. I did some travel for work and had a lot of free time to indulge in my sexual activities. I participated in 4 groups, 1 of which I was lucky to be the only Bottom. I do try to keep a record of every guy, I have a Fuck Diary I write in every night. Adding up each hookup and the group guys that I remember actually fucking and cumming. Not counting Blowjobs, I suck off so many guys I can’t keep track of how many. I was at 43 Loads for the month of June. Not a record, but I didn’t go a single day without satisfying at least one man. I’m going to keep track every month just to see how big a slut I really am. So far July is going well at 8 loads.
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To understand the set up for this series you need to read 'Nipple Series, Mr. Daniels ' found in the General Bareback Fiction section of Breeding Zone. _____________________________________ As Nick's beautiful cock exploded in my mouth my only thought was 'swallow, swallow ever last drop '. As he pulled up his shorts and left the bathroom cubicle at the drive-in I knew that my obsession with his nipple and sex life had turned into insanity. My next thought was, 'this was not a dream, I'm awake and can taste his cum. Fuck, I've got to get back to work.' It was near the end of my first summer home from university. I had taken the job running the drive-in concession for the sole focused purpose of getting glimpses of Nick's nipple when he took breaks from the endless parade of women he brought to make out with at said drive in. I'd get so turned on anticipating his emerging from his car for intermission. I would have seen he'd been making out and he was always fixing his fly and either pulling on his shirt or headed to my booth bare chested. Other than my regular breedings from Mr. Daniels that summer my sex life consisted of these frequent viewings of Nick's nipple and dreaming about what he did with the string of women he brought to the drive-in. For weeks I chided myself to at least find the balls to suck on his nipple. But as I used the urinal beside him each intermission my mouth would freeze up and I couldn't even make simple words of greeting. One extra hot humid night near the end of the summer he arrived with not one but two women. All three had quickly piled into the backseat with Nick in the middle. As he emerged for intermission he was buck naked, quickly pulling on his cut off jeans and tucking in his hardon when he got out of the car. Changing his routine he went directly to the bathroom. I excused myself and rushed off hoping I wasn't too late to catch him at the urinals. I almost crashed into him as I entered, he was about to leave. "What's your problem Phil? You can't possibly have to pee every time I do. Looks to me like you want to suck my dick. " he barked. " Aw, .. um .. Just your n ... ni ...nipples actually ." I stammered. With that he grabbed my hand and towed me into the closest cubicle. As he fastened the door he said "Don't you dare tell anyone about this." Then he pulled my face down to his bare chest. I licked it's saltiness like a baby calf at a salt lick. He softly moaned with pleasure. Then he pushed my head down 'til I was crouching in front of his crotch. "I know you want it, open my fly." My hands trembled as I fumbled to open and drop his shorts. When released his boner sprung up and hit my cheek. I instinctively grabbed hold of it. "Come on Phil, suck it. You know you want to. You've been stalking me for years." Besides Mr. Daniels this was only the second cock I'd had in my mouth. I glommed on like an infant at a tit. "No teeth faggot, come on. Do I need to get my girls to show you?" As I opened wider and made more use of my tounge he pushed in to the hilt of his seven inches. As he held my head in tight I began to gag. "You really need those two bitches with me tonight to teach you a few tricks faggot." I doubled down my efforts and he was soon face fucking me like the pro I would eventually become. I must have improved quickly because he rutted away in my mouth for the next 5 minutes. "You should be glad I'm a multi cummer. One bitch already got my first load and I'll have three more for them even after you get your's." Which is when his gorgeous cock exploded and flooded my mouth. I couldn't believe his second load was so large. I swallowed fast for fear it would drown me. Over the last few weeks of that summer Nick would flood my throat three more times. Mr. Daniels got so horny; he was fucking me missionary when I broke my promise to Nick and gave a play by play of taking Nick's first load. As I talked about Nick's cock exploding Mr. Daniels bred me with his most powerful orgasm ever. For the rest of the summer he would grill me for details about my Nick encounters egging me on to get Nick to fuck me like I wanted. Yes I wanted it; but, I didn't get it. At least not that summer. The next summer I returned home to work at the drive-in in an administrative roll. Fran was home lifeguarding again and she came home with Brad, a doctor's son she had been screwing at university. Brad was a tennis pro and was coaching at our local country club for the summer. Fran told me he was bi and had introduced her to swinging. She had told her parents they were dating and they allowed him to share her bed for the summer. Nick was working at a local factory, had gotten married, complete with a baby six months later. He continued to frequent the drive-in, and rarely with his wife. Mr. Daniels and I picked up where we had left off the summer before. He was deeply frustrated that I had only had a couple of gay encounters during the school term and totally bamboozled that I had only let the guys fuck me with condoms. As he bareback fucked me he would grill me for details of my encounters as well as the sexual encounters Fran shared from her experiences with Brad and his swinger circles. I began to believe he couldn't climax without me sharing more and more solicitous details. I was deeply grateful Fran shared so freely with me and lived for that moment he would plough deep into me and unload. Fran, Brad and I were sharing pizza and a couple bottles of tequila one night when Brad hatched a plan. He convinced Fran to seduce Nick into taking her to the drive-in. He and I would join them for a double date. The goal was for Brad and I to have the opportunity to watch Nick screw Fran and then seduce him into fucking Brad and I. I didn't believe we could pull this off but was surprised when Fran reported to us Nick had agreed to the double date. They had necked one night on the boardwalk. She'd allowed him to suck on her luscious nipple and promised he'd get further if he agreed to the drive-in double date. He wasn't going to pass up that offer. Fran and Nick snuggled close in the front seat as Brad fondled my nipple in the back seat. I don't even remember what movie was playing. Brad started deeply kissing me just as Fran looked back to see what we were up to. I caught her eye with a questioning look on my face. She just smiled at me, winked and nodded at me. Her message clearly 'Go for it.' She then bent down in front of Nick and there was no mistaking what we were hearing, she was giving Nick head. His head was thrown back in ecstacy. Brad took this as his cue and quickly unleashed my hardon. His lips were quickly wrapped around it and any doubts I had about his bisexuality vanished. He was clearly very skilled at giving oral and deep throating cock. After about ten minutes I had to pull him off warning I didn't want to cum yet. We switched roles and I did my best with his cock down my throat. He managed to get his fingers behind me and playing with my hole. Again he showed practiced dexterity and my ass sent me signals that it wanted more than fingers probing it. I managed to slip out of my clothes and sat facing Brad on his lap. I don't know where Nick got it but we were in a GMC Yukon so there was lots of room. Brad's raw cock rested in my ass crack and he was trying to maneuver it into my hole. I whispered that he needed a condom. He whispered back; "Fuck, really? I thought all you gay guys do it aux natural?" "Tempting fella, but no ." "Fran, you got a condom? I forgot to bring any." "Oh you guys are getting right to it, nice. Here. " Nick stopped sucking her tit long enough to ask, "Do I get one of those?" "I promised I'd go further and I have sucking your cock. That's it for now bud. " she scolded him. I moved off Brad's lap and rolled the condom on. Fran and Nick watched and then turned back to their making out. I took a couple moments to snog with Brad, moved back to his lap and lowered myself on his cock as he kept it aimed at my hole. I was amazed that his sheathed cock slid in so easily. It felt amazing! A tad smaller than Mr. Daniels' but just as comfortable. Not at all like the two guys that had 'done me with condoms' at school. That's when the 'penny dropped '. I looked Brad in the eye and squinted. He knew right away what I was asking and wordlessly answered by holding up the used condom in front of my face with an evil grin. "What the fuck man?" I whispered in his ear. "I know you let Mr. Daniels do you raw. (Had I told Fran?) Do you want me to ask Fran for another. We spoiled this one." he discreetly whispered back. "Fuck" "That's what I had in mind. " I checked to make sure they weren't watching from the front seat, "Okay, just don't cum in me."
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Cocksuckers, have you ever stared or glanced at the guy(s) cock next to you that was using the urinal? Have you ever been caught? If Yes, what have been the results? Me, I do it all of the time. Sometimes I get lucky enough that I get to take a guy into a toilet stall and Suck him Off, most of the time I get a disgusted look (Like they know I am a Cocksucker & think I'm despicable), or those rare occasions where I get punched right in the Nose while being called a faggot. One time I got hit so hard, I was knocked out, when I woke several minutes later, either the guy who knocked me out or someone else had wrote FAGGOT in permanent marker on my forehead:O
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by Steve Berman Sberman8@yahoo.com Let's start with the truth: I was following him. There, now I can set the tone. Not that I usually stalked people, but he was different. Struck me hard and fast, like an accident, only the feeling was welcome. So I waited outside the shop, peering into the windows as if browsing from the street. I was more than a little surprised that he was making a purchase. Not the sort of person to frequent a gallery, especially not the sort of gallery that this was. Were weird masks crafted from tooled leather and animal bones along with crepe and burlap wings his taste? That thought almost made me walk away and leave the stare of that something--once a raccoon or perhaps a possum--perched atop a calfskin helm in the display that was accusing me through empty sockets. Yet I was held fast, watching as he purchased a mask, a wide piece with fluted edges and scrollwork around the lips. When he left the store, not even pausing to offer me a glance, I stood by, breathing in his smell. One more inhale and a minute's passing happened before I followed him. I was not aiming for capture, but merely the thrill of the hunt. I could let my eyes follow the length of his young frame, supposedly with little risk. He led me to Jackson Square; on this weekend, it was full of both tourists and regulars, the artists displaying their paintings and caricatures along the wrought iron fence binding the park. In my two years of living in the Crescent City, I had never seen anyone walk that park. A snack at L'Madeline's seemed his goal. I sat down outside on a metal bench and waited. Resting and inert, I felt little like a predator. Embarrassment for acting in such outlandish fashion crept over me. I had kept my secret too well, preventing any overt betrayals even if I wanted them to be shown. So if I ever was attracted to another guy, desire was kept locked away tight behind my eyes. But this one made me act, even to this little degree, for approaching him was still out of the question. I had caught him on a side street to Royal, standing there watching with a host of others at a one-man band playing in the middle of the street. How could you not be taken by him? With his slim physique and wild black hair that so contrasted with his pale skin. A night dweller that had crept out for some reason to take a glimpse of the sun and its crowd. His clothing was worn, jeans almost tattered to shreds. He was definitely not one of the university crowd I normally hung out with, and did not have the brashness of a local. What he did have was quiet and furtive eyes that I thought would never find me. "Dance," I whispered, "you were surely meant to dance," but only his foot moved in time with the music. He left the cafe to walk down the alleys that led back to Bourbon Street, an infamous thoroughfare of the Quarter, which was truthfully a disappointment during the day. Those walkways had the rare person traveling besides us, but still I followed, my mind often urging me to turn away, but never quite vehement enough for the rest of me to listen. Yet, I wondered why he did not turn around and confront me, as my footfalls were neither quiet nor calm. Perhaps he simply chose to ignore my existence. The thought did not have much appeal to me, but I was saved when he left the known parts of Bourbon. He passed the Line. All newcomers to the Quarter hear of the Line if they spend any time downtown. Eventually the tourist trappings fall aside, the restaurants fade back, and you are only left with gloomy looking buildings. Most are bars of some ill repute squatting down, ready to gorge themselves on sodden customers. I had learned from the classmates I occasionally socialized with that beyond the almost visible line were places a normal guy, a straight decent fellow, just shouldn't go. Gay bars, rough spots, leather dens, areas where your ass either got shoveled or kicked in. And though the warnings were tabu entreaties, I had never before had the courage, or that much inclination, to cross. I watched him go with a sigh of regret. He never looked back, and neither did I. The walk back to the streetcar stop seemed so bland in comparison. Somewhere, I heard that New Orleans has two different patron gods, each presiding over not different parts of the city but rather the times. During the day, it is the sly Mercantile, the one who stands grinning behind the counter. He may be met as a sophisticate selling artwork or antiques, or be the street dealer with lewd T-shirts and garish Mardi Gras posters. But he will try to sell you something, anything, ‘name your price littl' lady.’ But at night, well, New Orleans becomes the domain of the Truck Driver, an avatar cruel and crude, laughing while he spills his beer on your sleeve, promising to show you sights never seen before, but all guaranteed to arouse. His language is blunt and to the point. The Mercantile wants your business, thrives on it; the Truck Driver couldn't care less, because he knows you have come to watch and don't feel like going home early. Or hungry. And since I like to think of myself somewhat sophisticated if not downright neurotic, I often avoided offering myself to the Truck Driver. At night most of the French Quarter is alive and crawling down Canal and Bourbon streets, with the other streets asleep except for the rare insomniac. Normally I am of little mood for crowds of drunken folk, seeking only to lose myself in a book back at the dorm. But one night late this past semester I sought refuge in their madness; for three weeks, I had been barraged with papers and tests, and the notion of just once losing my identity seemed like the perfect medicine. Come morning, should I regret something, well, that was a New Orleans tradition, too. I had come down on the streetcar with friends, letting them act as faulty guides and chaperons. With my hurricane clutched firm, and my college sweatshirt on as a warning label to the locals, I was ready to drink in deep that night. All was fine, even the two hours spent in the strip joint. I enjoyed the rank smell of sweat and smoke more than the dancers, who seemed all too eager to leave the stage; their social security checks must have been waiting for them in the back. But I was a consummate actor, in part thanks to the no-cover-charge-but-necessary-three-drink-minimum rule, and my friends never saw my disinterest in flouncing breasts. Outside the club, I took a moment to clear my head of vapors. The brick walls here are great for this purpose; one can lean against them and feel the world coming back into focus. Perhaps I should suggest that a bit of powdered brick added to chicory coffee might serve as a hangover remedy. My renewed perception let me spot him down the street. The clothing was so similar to what he wore the night I first saw him, that I wondered if I wasn't having some weird Dixie-beer induced flashback. But no, it was through the passing mob that my eyes were teased with him standing in front of a trader's shop, one arm casually draped around one of the cast-iron horse heads, relics from when busy folk had to tie up their steeds. I rapped my head against the wall ever so slightly, letting my friends chuckle at the display. I was trapped. To simply leave them would invite questions, none of which I could readily answer. But the desire to go to him was strong, making me think recklessly. My mind on a rampage, I muttered something up getting a refill and wandered into the crowd. I prayed they would not follow as I waded past the doomsayers, smelling rank like bad bologna stuck between their sandwich board signs. When I could no longer see my pals and my last link to school and sanity was gone, I headed directly towards him. This time his eyes were on me, casually, as I approached. I nearly lost my nerve, but to have come so close and then break away was too disheartening to contemplate. So, we met besides the black horse head with its bit of rust peeking through the bad paint job. Never having been so close to him, I was a bit surprised at his age; I would have guessed him a couple of years younger than me, but his confident pose had not a drop of inexperience. And since I did not yet have the strength to stare him straight in that delicately featured face, I found myself watching his long fingers that were idly stroking the post's huge nostrils. "Whew, its good to get out of that crowd. Felt like I was going to be swept along the street." My voice had a nervous edge to it, making me cringe slightly as I finished. He shrugged. "Nights here are like that." He had a soft voice, barely above a whisper. "Surprised to see you here, thought you were more of a day walker." The remark was received and noted; so he had known I was following him that day. "Yeah, but something brought me out tonight. You seem to blend-in here." I added. "That's not a compliment." And he flashed me a grin. "Are you waiting for anyone?" Hope was at my fingers, ready to fly off to the river if he should answer yes, that he was waiting for someone else, someone better looking, perhaps taller or bigger, without an East Coast accent that betrays seduction. "Sort of, but seeing as you're here, guess I might not have to." I was confused, but merely nodded, feeling it the right thing to do. "Umm, you want to go somewhere and get a drink and talk?" "Sure, I know a place." I followed him as we made our way along the sidewalk, avoiding the packed street to make faster time. I was so nervous that one of my school chums would catch sight of me that I kept my eyes trained on his backside, which was not altogether a bad sight. Before I knew it, the crowd had thinned out to mere stragglers. We had reached the damned Line, again. He crossed it with ease, then turned back to see my passage. Again it was too late to turn back. I wished that a shock of sorts had traveled up and down my spine as I crossed into strange territory, but it felt all too slick and painless. Seeing me step over, he again flashed me that grin that was oh-so-promising. Farther down the street, we reached a small doorway. Beyond it, the room was dark with dim splotches of light from weak bulbs hanging in the rafters. Small tables and chairs were placed haphazardly about, each covered with what look like remnants of cloth. Several people sat close together on the floor, amid pillows and covers. The bar was low, with too many bartenders milling about, fighting over the odd customer who wanted something to drink. A dim chord of music hung in the air, supplied by an unseen guitar. It was mournfully apparent that conversation, offers and promises, perhaps even deals of flesh were the draw. What was the minimum here, I had to wonder. We sat at one of the few empty tables. It was odd how such a quiet place could be so crowded; amid all the whispering, mouths barely seemed to move. I was disappointed that all sorts of couples sat down with their drinks; I had expected, had even hoped for, something more blatantly gay as a site for my initiation. The drinks were set before us; there was no choosing apparently. I took a sip from the wet glass and found it bitter but strong. My companion seemed as relaxed as ever, just content to stare at me it seemed, yet ,as I was to learn, the demeanor I saw was actually a carefully constructed wall. In a subdued voice, I was forced to start the conversation. "My name's Preston." I felt that offering my hand would seem childish and utterly inappropriate for what I was hoping would happen that night. He was more than a moment in responding. "Brandon." My hand shook a little, but as I cast my eyes about the room to avoid dwelling upon it, I replied. "An interesting place. Never saw anything like it before. Almost Bohemian." With a slight smirk, he said. "A lot of the hustlers take the johns here to settle terms before going farther, and then there are a number of places nearby to go. Haitian cabbies drift about like checkered sharks in case it’s a hotel job." I took a hearty gulp of the drink after that. As my throat burned, the truth crashed down, taking everything apart like a dropped puzzle. I knew that ‘innocent’ was written on my hands, but never I thought ‘naïve.’ Where to look? The table, the floor, my arms, all covered with fragments of my fantasies. Odd that he was clean. "Don't tell me you didn't know." He playfully rolled his glass between those pale hands. "You approached me, after tracking me for a long time, the other day." I was still in shock, my mouth open, no doubt. I came to when I heard "Enough of this," and he rose to leave. My arm shot forth and grabbed ahold of his hand. His skin felt cold and clammy and my first instinct was to let go and rub warmth back into my fingers. "No. Please stay. It's all right with me. Really." He sat back down, but still I could feel that more brick-and-mortar had been added to the wall that separated us. I wanted to knock it down before sharing anything with him, but realized that sitting between us was the Truck Driver, squinting and hooting, offering to pull away Brandon's shirt and to let me see a little skin before I went further. On such unfamiliar ground, with no maps or guides, all I had left was one recourse. That was to feel my way around him and hope to find some crevice that would let me travel inside. My emotions seemed overwhelmed by him, traveling the gray area between simple lust and the yearning for intimacy. In all my twenty years, neither had ever been accomplished. "What are. . . what are your rates?" "Depends on your needs." He loomed closer, reaching across the small table so that his fingers brushed against my hand that held the drink. The touch was shocking, not only from the erotic stroke that traveled my skin, but also the clammy and cold nature, as if his temperature worked on a different scale than mine. I timidly enwrapped his hand my own fingers, ignoring the cold and damp. As I spoke, the words tasted as bitter as the drink, but they had to come out. "I want . . . I want to sleep with you. To spend the night, maybe the morning." I said the words quickly and then grabbed my glass to finish off my drink. The smirk was back in full force, making his face look almost bestial. "Not just sleep. . ." he intoned. He was enjoying making me squirm with my request. Damn, I wanted the waitress to bring me another glass so that I might speak some more, but now the bar looked empty, and the guitar sounded too loud. My mouth was open but only small, guttural sounds came out. I think I was shaking, perhaps a few drops of sweat fell onto the table. I forgot that my hand was still over his until he squeezed my fingers. "No problem, I see what you need. Pay for the drinks and let's get going." My open wallet was a siren cal, two waitresses showed at the table, each eyeing the other balefully over the bill. No words were said, so I threw down a twenty and leave them fighting over the paper. As I turned, I noticed Brandon was leaning against the doorway waiting for me. Now that an arrangement had been made--though I did not recall a price even mentioned--his stance had changed. Before, his slim build seemed ready to quiver, if not twist and dance about. Each step that he made, was made with wild abandon. Now, his hips were cocked like a gun, his tread slow. He languished about, his arms spread wide at times to stroke the buildings along his side. I had a nagging hard-on for him, and stuck my hands in my pockets to help conceal my interest. He noticed immediately and began to laugh, an oddly loud sound when compared to his normal low-level of speech. We went along a maze of streets and corridors until we came to a inner courtyard, a rare sight that most folk who walk the French Quarter never see. Often, they contain old fountains or lush gardens. This one was bare except for several crates stacked like precarious towers and a metal gate set before stone steps down one wall. Brandon had one foot on a slim staircase that led to the upper floors of an adjoining building. I gave one more glance to the odd gate, since basements were rare in New Orleans due to the below-sea level nature of the city, and I was pondered where those steps led. But all Brandon had to do was to call out my name once, and my raging interest returned to what could happen atop the other flight of stairs. Once inside, I found that the upper floor was riddled with rooms. Behind closed doors I could hear sounds and moans, but couldn’t tell if all were sounds of pleasure. Subconciously, I realized now how dangerous my situation was. I had come to an area of the city with no clear way of getting home, and led by a complete stranger. For a moment, the urge to run, break away and head back to the safety of my dorm room crept over met, but before it had time to act, I had followed Brandon into one of the rooms. The room was small and cramped, containing a futon and an old chest. A Salem Witchcraft poster hung on one wall, along with a bizarre display of slate shards. A pile of stones decorated the center of the room, seeming more than haphazard and was disturbing to look at. Other than a few clothes scattered about, the rest was old carpet. Brandon shut the door behind us and leaned against the wood. I waited for a few minutes basked the moonlight that streamed in through a window and feeling somewhat at a loss for words or actions. He just stared at me with those dark eyes. Reacting to my hesitation, he walked to me, stepping so close, I could feel his cool breath on my face. "Take off my clothes." His was a demand not a request. My hands trembled as they went to his shirt. The tips of my fingers brushed against smooth, cool skin as I pulled it off. His chest was slim but toned, nearly snow-white, except for the darker rings around his nipples. All I wanted to do was caress him there, but I know that would not be following whatever rules had to exist in such situations. I knew that he had to be naked completely, so his worn jeans were next. As I unzipped them, he stepped closer to me, until our bodies were nearly touching. I pushed down the denim to expose a pair of black boxers, which showed the strain of Brandon's erection. I pushed the jeans down further, passing, with admiration, firm, muscular legs with not a wisp of hair to be seen. I helped him out of his sneakers, peeled off his socks, and then his jeans. He stood there in his underwear, the darkness of which contrasted with his skin so that it looked like his body stopped at the waist only to begin again in mid-thigh. I was entranced by the contrast; and one of my fingers had to reach out and touch his boxers just to ensure that it was indeed fabric. My hand ended up on the inner side of his leg, and I began to lazily stroke skin that was as smooth as milk. I looked up to see a half-smile on Brandon's face, and realized even as I saw it that I could accept that. I brought my own face closer until we were brushing against each other. The sensuality between us rose and I became aware that my own dick was still constrained, which reminded me that I was still fully dressed. As I stood there, one of his hands went to my neck, cupping itself underneath my chin. To my flushed skin, it was a cool compress. I sucked in my breath, feeling the blood race around his touch. Then, that hand drifted down, over my shirt and to my waist. It hesitated a moment before sliding up between the fabric and my skin. That I could feel such pleasure in his stroking my chest was astounding, I feared that I would completely collapse into a quivering mass if and when his hand went lower. I could not help but sigh and softly moan. My eyes were closed. He never said a word as his hand left me. The loss of such contact was frightening; all of a sudden I was left disoriented. I opened one eye to see that he was stretched out on the futon, one hand stroking the front of his boxers as the other did a slow wave to bring me closer. The fact that I would have to undress myself caused a wave of disappointment. I saw again how immense and intact the wall that Brandon had built, remained. For the last few minutes, I had been lost in fantasy. The fact that I was paying for a night's passion, however exquisite it may turn out to be, returned and threatened to dull my desire with self-disgust. My hands fumbled in removing my clothes. If he noticed my inner turmoil, he said nothing to ease my thoughts. Stripped bare except for my briefs, I crawled onto the futon besides him. He still wore that almost-grin. Along with adrenaline, my blood carried doubt, the whole mixture making me feel weak and lost as I laid there. Brandon leaned towards me on one elbow and with his free hand began to brush his fingers through my hair. His touch was so gentle and comforting that it felt like I had just drunk a tonic to chase away my fears. He leaned in to kiss me. His mouth was chilled, but rather than disturbing, I found the sensation delightful. Wickedly I had to wonder what it would feel like if he went down on me with that cold tongue. I held my breath for as long as I could, letting him explore. My arms went around him, almost sliding along as they made their way to his back. I gripped him close, desperate to bring him closer to me. At some point, he was atop me, rubbing his whole body against me, bringing shivers along the length of my spine. Then he rolled over, disengaging himself. Rather than speak, he guided my hand down to his crotch. The nerves along my arm readied themselves for what my touch would find. I slid his boxers down, exposing his erection. Around the base was a sparse arrangement of black hair that curved down to his scrotum. I leaned in closer to marvel at the dichotomy: it was both the softest skin and yet it felt so hard. I let myself rub along the length, now and then gliding down to cup his sack in my palm. When his hand pressed against the back of my head, inching me closer to his cock, I knew what he wanted me to do. I expected his cock to have a taste, but instead there was just a certain firmness that was still delightful. Even here, there was the coolness of Brandon's flesh, and I wanted to warm him with my breath and throat. I had no idea if I was pleasing him; he just lay there calm, looking down at me as I slipped my lips again and again over him. Finally, he lifted my face from his crotch. I moved slowly, not realizing that Brandon had managed to slide behind me and that I was now facing the mattress. Moments later I felt something sliding slowly inside of me, and then withdraw. As the movement returned again and again, I was drew heaving breaths as a tide of pleasure and discomfort ebbed and ripped through me. I could not help but collapse forward and hug the edges of the futon, and I heard him laugh in delight to my response. How long it lasted is beyond me. With a massive moan, I came into the folds of the sheets below me. Soon after, he pulled out from me, then turned me over to watch as he jerked off. His semen sprayed all over his chest and groin, and I was held enthralled by the sight. As his labored breathing eased, he dipped a finger into the streaks of cum and held it up it to my face as an offering. I hesitated, and found him pressing it closer to my shut lips. I opened and took his finger in, tasting him deeply, feeling his salty seed lay on my tongue. We then slept together. Come morning, instead of a shared kiss, he had me go down on him again. I did so without complaint. Afterwards, I gave him whatever money I had left in my wallet, leaving myself only enough change for the streetcar ride back home. He led me back through the streets until we came to a part of Bourbon I recognized. I said good-bye, he merely nodded. But I was not left alone so easily. It seemed that I spent all my time was in remembrance of that night. Perhaps I should have been disgusted, for, to some, I was merely used. But I did not feel this way. Rather my attraction to Brandon had grown beyond the physical. I wanted to meet the challenge of piercing his wall, to find and love the true teen that lurked within. Are most defrocked virgins so naive? The very next night I returned to Bourbon Street to find him. Now that I knew what sort of person I was dealing with, the hunt was easier. He greeted me with only a smirk, but this time as we entered the brothel, he held onto my hand, guiding me back to the room. For the next two weeks it continued this way. Rarely did I fail to find him, once even chasing away another potential customer, though Brandon seemed little bothered by the loss. My studies suffered as the task of college paled in comparison to the task of creating a romance with a prostitute. My newfound dedication began to pay off. Brandon must have developed some fondness for me as he began to refuse my money in the morning. When he took it, it was half-hearted born of a need. Soon he was less demanding during sex, allowing me to slow down each caress and find time to savor each taste and touch. The next step was far too easy, and I found myself staying with him each night, together roaming the streets where he would show me parts of the city few had ever seen. The wall was crumbling; I could hear bits of masonry fall as he guided me about, holding my hand during these private tours of decayed courtyards and manses. During the day we would mostly sleep, venturing out only when bored. I abandoned most of my belonging back in my dorm room, taking only the essentials. The only way to embrace him was to turn my back upon the old life and walk a new path. Sometimes I worried that Brandon did not return my true feelings. Was I only a diversion in his life, one that would last only so long before apathy returned? If so, I drowned my concerns in bitter drink and his heady presence; I would mourn that loss when it was presented to me. Now as a night dweller, I met the other boys who lived in the building. Like some secret clan, they all spoke in whispers, each I saw holding back a frenzy threatening to come unleashed. All were hustlers, though some catered to more exotic clientele. At first I found them distant towards me, like I was only a shadow amongst them. Soon, as they saw how much time Brandon and I were sharing, they began to speak to me, confide in me the events in their lives. I wanted them to let their guard down and regard me as a friend, but no, there still existed a bit of that wall between me and their breed. The story of Remus was fresh from only last semester's teachings. Then one cloud-covered night, with the threat of rain driving most from the open street, Brandon led me not to the room to spend one more night in each other's heat, but to the building's courtyard. He was quiet, the only snatches of conversation he uttered were both vague and unsettling. Something was going to happen that night, besides the thick showers that so-often patronized New Orleans. I had begun to believe that this was my last night with him, that tomorrow he would tell me to return to my old ways, to sunlight and textbooks… and loneliness. There was some measure of truth and foresight in this, as now the old ways are lost for me. The courtyard looked different when lit by fire. All the boys were standing about, many of them carrying handmade torches. I counted several faces hidden behind a variety of sordid masks. Here one crafted from broken porcelain, there a leather bondage visage complete with zippered eyebrows and lips. One of the boys brought Brandon the odd mask he bought so long ago, which he donned without a word to me. It was almost as if I could physically see his wall rearing up to prevent me from reaching him. The brickwork was far older than the flesh it contained. A deep groaning of tortured metal sounded as the iron gate was unlocked and thrust wide open, and the procession began to climb down the steps. Brandon need not have pushed me ahead of him; I wanted to go down and see perhaps the one aspect of his life that had remained hidden from me. The descent was rough on my senses. Flickering torchlight revealed only dripping stone walls decorated with patches of repellent fungus. They were all so silent, only the crackling of the fires and the sound of our feet falling upon the tiles reached my ears. The stench of musty earth was thick in the cool air. How long we walked down those steps, I could not guess, but finally, we reached bottom. My teeth were chattering against the cold, and I dreaded brushing against the stonework around me. I followed the others, but was careful to stay near Brandon. I believe we passed a few unlit chambers, all looking archaic and unsafe to venture into. Someone from the lead of the procession had begun to hum a strange tune that rose and fell in time with our footsteps. Soon other voices joined ours, and I fear to say that some of them emanated from those dark rooms. The corridor ended in a large circular chamber, and the line of masked and unmasked wound its way around a huge pit set in the floor's center. In the dim light, I could just make out the remains of mosaic tiles surrounding the hole. But if they were to decorated with words or icons, I was unfamiliar with the language. Even though it looked more like a pool of black water than a hole of depth, I could hear wind whistling up from the mouth of the hole,. A voice close to me ripped the silence. "Ia Nyogtha! Erikthnar l'hor kadishtu . . . Ia Nyogtha! Ygnaiih Nyogtha k'yarnak!" I was horrified to see Brandon's mouth move beneath the mask, those lips that I had spent so much time touching with every part of my being, now twisted to spit out such obscene sounding words. His voice was no longer a whisper, but seemed like the hoarse screams of some dying animal pleading for release. The others around me took up the chant, hurling it from one to another, until the last shouted it down to the pit. Shards of slate were then tossed into the pit, making no noise, meeting silently with whatever lurked there. That something that dwelled in the darkness of the chasm responded to the entreaties. I could swear that above their hoarse shrieks I heard a terrible sound, like the lapping of thickened water. Their shouting intensified as they began to leap up and down, shaking their limbs. One boy held out his hand. . . and was touched by something from the pit! A stream of blackness, deeper and darker than any my eyes had ever seen issued forth and snaked around that boy's pale wrist. It moved like liquid; and sounded like poison. Each of the boys began to howl, stripping off whatever clothes they wore. I watched as they finally freed themselves to twist and jump, a dance both graceful and horrific. Tentacles of the black thing shot forth to touch their skin, stroke their naked bodies with a lover's touch as they laughed and cavorted. Their firm erections were jolted by the creature's lingering touch, as if it sought out the most potent heat of their bodies, wanting to steal it from them. Several came, showering the blackness with their pale cum, all the while howling with glee. I had not noticed until now that some of the boys had brought bags along the descent. From them they dumped animals into the pit, letting the darkness swallow up a grand course meal. I say animals, and resist dwelling on the few things that squirmed and bawled as they fell. My mind screamed for release and I ran from the room. Even as I stood hunched over in the hallway, my thoughts shrieked, wanting peace and forgetfulness. I trembled and cried, wondering if it would not be best to rip my eyes free and cast them aside for having betrayed the rest of the body. Before my clawed hands could move, I heard someone enter the corridor from that accursed room. I looked up to see Brandon standing over me, his mask slightly askew, his naked body glistening with an iridescent slime. Even then lust caught me, my eyes glancing downward to note how rigid he was. He lifted me up gently, to meet his face. Then I watched as one of his fingers reached down to his chest and brought back a daub of that muck. He held it before my eyes; I could see the oily sheen it had. Then he offered it to my lips. I could read nothing of his thoughts through the mask. But the decision was made, had been back in that bar past the Line weeks ago. Before he had a chance to withdraw the offer, I wrapped my mouth around the finger and sucked hard. The slime tasted acrid and felt like cold slush falling down my throat. But I did not gag or show any signs of suffering. Brandon let me taste his finger for several minutes, and then he withdrew it and returned to the festival, leaving me alone again in darkness. I slipped down the wall, knowing that something black had entered me and was festering in my gullet. When they brought me back to the surface, Brandon had to carry me back to his place. I sank into a deep sleep troubled with images of dripping black water. I awoke to the little sunlight that crept through the boarded windows. To my side, Brandon was still asleep, his face serene, so different from the mask he had worn the night before. I rose without disturbing him and, dressed only in underwear, took the stairs down to the courtyard. Here I am. The hours have passed, and I have been staring at the closed gate. What happened last night was no delusion, I am sure, but rather something like a wedding. But to what am I married? The night came upon me while still in this fugue. The air holds a slight breeze warm against my bare skin, and I wonder just how cool my touch is now. Nobody forced this path of corruption upon me, nor did they place my hands on the metal bars and aim my eyes to those dark steps. I am solely to blame. But to what end? A light touch on my shoulder does not startle me, and I find the fingers assuring. I turn to find Brandon before me, naked in the night. He takes one of my hands in his, guiding it to his bare chest, against the smooth skin. We come closer and know that inside we both share a black taint. Together we make our way back to our room. For the first time, I am master upon the bed, selfishly taking before I give any pleasure. Afterwards we lay together and now I know that for all my waking moments when I dreaded the path I walked, the companion I had found along the way has made the harsh price worth it.
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Thomas was a 21 year old college student, straight, brown eyes, brown hair, at 6’foot and a tone build and a great dick that was 9 inches hard and a tight ass, he was ladies man. He liked to party with his friends, a little T here and there, and a little coke. Thomas liked to tease his next door neighbor, Barney, who at age 53, balding and over weight, would jerk off to Thomas showing off his naked body with the curtains open. Barney would love to get his dick Into Thomas’s ass, but couldn’t figure out how. Thomas would say to him. “You wish you could fuck my ass, but the best I’ll do his give you a peep show.” Barney had been wanting Thomas since he was 18, and when Thomas caught brim jerking off to him, while watching him fuck his then girlfriend, Linda. Thomas decided to not tell his parents, but give him a show every night, he felt sorry for the old man since his partner had died. Barney knew that Thomas liked to pnp with his friends, fucking girls while high. It was a great feeling. So Barney set up a trap to get Thomas in bed, and finally get his dick into that tight ass. Planning a pnp was easy, Barney knew that Thomas’s parents were going away on vacation, Barney told Thomas this was his way of saying “thank you”, for making an old man happy. Thomas was surprised and said “Thank you, Barney.” Once Saturday night came, Thomas was ready for action, and so was Barney. “Where are the the girls?” Thomas asked. “They’ll be here within the hour” “you want some T?” Barney new Thomas would, taking a hit from the pipe. Then passing it back to Barney, who also took a hit. “Come here, Thomas, I wanted to show you something.” Thomas took a few more hits of T and followed Barney into a room that had a sling in it. “Have you ever had sex in a sling?’ Barney asked. “No” Thomas said, checking it out. Seeing that there was rope to tie wrists and feet. “That’s going to be so hot.” Thomas said. Barney, under his breath “It sure will be.” “I have some coke, if you want to have a bump.” It actually was ketamine, it would hopefully, bring Thomas down from his high from the meth, and get him to fall asleep. Thomas took three bumps, feeling tired, Barney led him to the sling, and started to take off Thomas’s clothes, till he was naked, then tied his wrists and ankles up. With Thomas out like a light, Barney got undressed himself, grabbed poppers, and placed it under Thomas’s nose, to get him semi awake. “You’re awake, I see.” “There aren’t going to be any girls coming.” “But I’ll be cumming in that tight ass of yours.” “Teasing me for all these years, now it’s time to stop and give me what I want, what I deserve.” With that, Barney shoved his dick into poor Thomas’s mouth, and being that he couldn’t move to free himself, he sucked on Barney’s hard cock. “Teasing little slut you are.” “Keep sucking on daddy’s cock, until you have it all nice and wet.” Barney finally took his dick out of the young man’s mouth. Barney began eating out his ass, opening Thomas’s tight hole. “That’s nice a lose, daddy is going to give you what every tease deserves.” With that Barney pushed his 7inch hard cock into Thomas’s now non virgin ass. “Please stop Barney.” The young man begged. “No” Barney said with his thrusting in and out of Thomas’s ass. Thomas felt Barney starting to cum in him. “Ahhh” Barney said as he felt his dick twitching inside the young man’s ass, with his loads now deep inside Thomas, Barney decided to leave him tied up in the sling. “Thomas, you are no longer a teasing little bitch.” “You’re my bitch now.” “And I did invite some friends over to unload inside you.” With that Barney had invited four friends over, who were all over the age 50, giving Thomas T while they would hold the pipe and fuck him until they dropped their loads in him. Barney would blackmail Thomas into being a cumdump. Barney had also recorded their encounter, along with the four other guys. Who all would take turns fucking and cumming inside him.
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Having been (and still sort of) vanilla on the area of foot fetishism, the thought to explore and the act of exploring didn't occur to me until last year. After talking to a foot fetishist on Instagram, it awakened unfocused thoughts that I had several years ago. When I lost my virginity in December 2014, it was to a masc jock who had a sock fetish. I never thought to wear socks during sex, but he insisted I do so. He wore black socks, I wore white socks. His legs were hairy and long, and his feet were pretty big. That was my first hint of a fetish, or at least someone else's. When I lived up north of my current location, it seemed there were a lot more fetishists, especially ones who were into foot play. A guy on Grindr would take off his sandals and show me his sweaty feet in pictures. I remember thinking "that's nice". Another guy I found on a hookup app, a foot master, was very into having his feet served and talked about all the perks and everything involved in it. At that time, I only had a passing interest in men's feet, and actually felt kind of unsure, maybe even a bit disgusted by it. As my sexual encounters grew in numbers, my interest in men's feet started to bubble to the surface. It wasn't after I talked to a foot fetishist from the Pacific west last year that my desire for men's feet exploded. We talked about his experiences with feet and shared pics of feet that we liked, including his own, which are big and soft. It was then that I really wanted to engage in serving other men's feet. My actual "first time" acting on it was in 2020, when I hooked up with a guy from my area. When he came over, he laid on my bed and began to undress. As it had been so long since I had sex, something came over me to suddenly pull this guy's white socks off and lick his left sole and toes. It was brief, but that was just the start. My second experience happened last July. I invited a guy I talked to on Grindr over for a massage. Since I didn't know what his face looked like, I was nervous, but when he came to my door, he was tall, gorgeous and had a soft voice. I figured he was just going to remove his shirt and have me rub his back, but when we got into my room, he stripped naked and laid on his stomach on my bed. I was in awe at how beautiful this specimen of a man was. I proceeded to scoot in and rub lavender oil on his back, shoulders, neck, arms and legs. His muscles were tight, but I got him loosened up and relaxed. I wanted to rub spearmint lotion on his feet, but asked if I could play with them first, and he said I could. With his big feet dangling over the edge of the bed, I knelt down on the floor and picked up his right foot and leaned in to sniff it. Smelled like day-old sweat. The scent made me ravenous. I started running my tongue over his smooth sole, up to his heel, and back down again, then dragged my tongue under the bottoms of his toes and gently sucked on each toe, repeating this with his left foot. Both of his feet were in my hands at this point. I stuck the top half of his right foot far into my mouth and sucked his skin. It tasted amazing. After this, I massaged his feet with spearmint lotion and then we had sex (I will discuss that later). 😉 My third and most recent experience with feet was with a friend of a friend, but will keep that private. Along with the one foot fetishist, I have talked to several others, and I feel more comfortable now talking about feet, thinking about feet, and what I want to do to feet. As if my libido wasn't already high enough, foot fetishism has flooded my mind to where it occupies almost all of my daily thoughts, like it's a craving/addiction that must be satisfied immediately. I have a Tumblr blog solely dedicated to male feet and it already has nearly 4k followers and over 1000 posts. I really love the size, shape, texture, scent and flavor of a man's feet. Men's feet and toes that have the right amount of length and thickness to them drive me wild. Smooth, hairless feet are my favorite. I can't get enough.
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Toronto 17 March St Patrick's Day. Chelsea Hotel downtown. Black Eagle and Spa Excess on the list. All nighter at the hotel room. Door unlocked and ass up. 420 and poppers friendly.
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There's nothing quite like your first time. Let's see it from this perspective: Imagine being a young gay man, 24, still a virgin, and wanting to explore your sexuality. You scour hookup apps, something new to you, looking for a guy to fuck. After awhile, you find a hot, fuzzy-bodied jock with a sock fetish who agrees to meet you. He comes over that same morning and you both go into your bedroom and sit on the bed. You reach over to grab his crotch, and he does the same to you. You get hot and flustered, never having touched a man this way. Both of you grow harder as you rub each other's bulges. Next thing you know, his jeans and underwear are off, on the floor, and his hard, warm cock is in your hand. You feel how soft its skin is and how it pulsates as you slowly stroke it. The guy then tells you in a soft, sexy voice, "You can suck on it if you want". With that command, you lower your head, mouth open, and engulf the glans, tasting another man's meat for the first time. The texture is rubbery, the flavor juicy. He lays back and moans as you move your lips up and down the shaft, sucking it gently and rolling your tongue around the head. Your saliva coats his cock as you bob your head up and down, creating more friction. You go down further and want to suck his balls, but he says they're too sensitive, so you keep sucking his cock. After several minutes, he says he's about to cum, but you grip his cock tight, not wanting him to unload until you both have anal sex. With him edged, you take your shorts and underwear off and hunker down on the bed, your ass in the air. He puts lube on your hole, and the coldness makes you shake slightly. The next thing you feel is a pressure in your hole, then realize he's inside you. Your mouth falls open, feeling how easy it was to be penetrated and how wonderful it feels to be filled rectally with another guy's dick. You wrap your arms around a pillow and softly moan as he humps your ass, slowly, rocking back and forth. After slow fucking, you beg him to fuck you harder, so he obliges, and you bury your face in the pillow and moan, feeling your ass being pounded. The smell of sex is in the air and the warmth of your bodies makes the room more stifling. You become breathless as he keeps fucking you. Several minutes elapse, and he unloads in your ass. You catch your breath and feel mildly exhausted, but also feel such glee that you finally lost your virginity to a hot guy. Before he redresses, you sit up and inspect his firm ass, seeing that his hole is brown and sparsely-haired, but never get to rim it. He never comes back for more, but you now know that you're going to want dick and ass all the time from this point on. You'll always remember the one who took your cherry.
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Went out of town with my husband this past weekend for Valentine’s Day. And obviously I had to find someone to hookup with. I downloaded Grindr and had a few hits, but ultimately no luck, so I searched sniffies. A guy at a hotel across the street from mine was looking. Same age and stats as me—mid 30’s, 200lbs give or take, 6c. He was married and straight looking for a slut to suck him or breed. He was into poppers as well which was a major turn on. I was able to lose my husband for a bit and have some time to play so I headed over to the hotel. I got to his room and it was dark. We started to make out immediately and he shoved poppers in my nose as soon as I started blowing him. For the next 45 minutes we both got high on poppers and sucked each other, coming up for air every so often to make out with each other. He was a slow cummer and after a while I ended up shooting my load in his mouth. He saved some and we made out with my cum. I went back to work on his cock, licking up his delicious precum, but unfortunately he wasn’t able to finish. It was still a good time, and we both loved cheating on our partners. I got dressed and headed back to my room before my husband came back. I kissed him when he walked in the room and wished him a happy Valentine’s Day.
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I'm a guy from northwest Indiana who has an insatiable ass fixation. I come from an area where guys like to wear their pants low and have baggy boxer shorts or tight briefs. You can imagine what that does to me once my eyes catch glimpse of it. My lust for the male ass started in high school. A hot jock in my history class sat next to me and I would notice that his jeans would slide down in the back when he sat in his seat, revealing his blue briefs. You could see the outline of his buttcrack in them. That's all I could focus on most days in that class. The one that really got me hooked belongs to my straight buddy, "Sam". He wore khaki shorts and sandals a lot. Not only did he have amazing legs and feet, but his ass is bubbly and huge. We shared a few classes. In our social studies class, "Sam" sat diagonal from me and would slump in his seat so much that his shorts came down quite a bit in the back, exposing his smooth asscrack. I'm not sure I ever saw underwear under those shorts, but I would gaze in awe at his ass every time we had social studies class. Once, another guy who sat in front of me noticed Sam's exposure. Could only imagine what he was thinking. "Sam" and I also had science class, and he sat directly in front of me, with a space between our desks. That gave me enough view of his ass, and again, his shorts would come down and expose his crack. I got so hot and bothered once, that I took out my notebook and drew a sketch of his big ass with my dick in between his buttcheeks. There were times that I would hang around him just to get my eyes on that ass. It's a really amazing ass. Fast forward years later, and "Sam" and I were chatting via Facebook message once evening. I revealed to him that his shorts would slide down as he sat at his desk, and he laughed at the matter. I also told him that people noticed, even myself, and said he has a nice butt. He appreciated my compliment. I told "Sam" I wanted to see it again, so after some slight hesitation, he sent me a side shot of himself in his underwear, that big ass bulging out of his briefs. I was instantly hard. I wanted to see his ass minus the underwear, but he never did send that. Found out that another guy I went to high school with, who is also gay, is friends with "Sam", and we talked about what we'd do with Sam if we had sex with him. It was nice to talk to someone about "Sam" and his amazing ass, as I'd been holding in those emotions so long. I'd give anything to rim and fuck that bubble butt, even today. It wasn't until I was 24 that I got close enough to another guy's ass. I hooked up with a hot jock I met off of Adam4Adam in December 2014 and that was when I lost my virginity. Unfortunately, as close as I was, I did not get to rim that guy's ass, which was firm and sparsely-haired around his brown hole, but wish I had. Despite that missed opportunity, I have had several guys feed me their ass. I've had guys spread their ass on the bed for me, lay back with their legs up, and have had guys sit on my face. There is nothing like feeling a guy's fleshy buttocks around your face, smelling the musk emanating from their crack and tasting the tangy flavor of sweat from their asshole. I love digging my tongue in there and flicking it around, making sure I clean it up good. Fingering guys is also fun, especially when I get deep enough and stimulate their prostate. That drives them wild, and I've had guys blow their load solely from getting fingered. I've even fisted a guy and made him holler. I love feeling a guy's insides brush against my palm and fingertips. I've never penetrated a guy with my penis yet, but hopefully someday. Right now, I just can't get enough of men's asses; big, rounded ones with little to no hair, and eating them out. I'd eat ass every day if I could. I'm an ass pig at heart.
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Does anyone know what happened to Sammy Case? I loved his videos back in the day and stumbled on some photos of him earlier and unsuccessfully tried to find newer vids of him. Internet rumors about him were that he had to leave porn due to "health reasons". Other rumors were that he moved to somewhere upstate in NY and lives with some guy who took him in and works as a waiter. Anyone know what the real deal is?
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Like the title says, I'm a bottom in Pinellas really horny Andy ready for cock. If anybody is a top with no STDS are down, text or call and I'll send address. 7272947594 -
Last year I met a hot boy at the p-house. He had just turned 18, and told me this was first time to gay club. We were out by the lake talking. I was really digging him. Several times he hinted around for me to buy him a drink, but I was scared of getting caught. Out of the blue an older man in his 40's joined us. I could tell he was interested in the the boy as snared more and more of the kid's attention. I figured the boy would reject him but before I knew it I was out of the conversation. The man invited the boy to smoke some weed with him and they took off together and went behind some bushes. It all happened so fast and there was nothing I could do, but I decided to hang around to see what else happened. After about fifteen minutes they emerged from the bushes, the older man's arm around the boy, leading him to the guest rooms. The kid was staggering and kinda out of it: I speculated the two of them had smoked more than just pot. They approached a guest room, the older guy knocked on the door - it promptly opened and the two of them disappeared within. I sauntered up to the room and, while the door was closed, I could faintly hear the TV playing a porno flick and assumed at least two guys were going at it. I walked by the window and noticed a gap in the blind. Peering in, I could see the old man and another taller hairy man had the boy sandwiched between themselves. They were kissing all over the kid, feeling him up as they removed his clothing. The boy had such a hot slim body, I was sad to see it wasted, so to speak, on the two older guys. As soon as the boy was naked the hairy guy picked-up the kid, positioning him on the bed, face down. Suddenly the door opened and the other man who had initially snared the boy caught me spying on them through the window. "I thought it was you. He sure is a hottie, isn't he? Sorry about your bad luck. but hey, you can come in and watch." I was happy to accept his invitation, so I entered the room, taking a seat in a dark corner, looking on as the other guy was simultaneously rubbing his crotch and the boy's ass. He unbuckled his pants, exposing his bulging jockstrap. Climbing on top of the boy, he began kissing and licking his neck and ear as he humped the boy, asking him "You won't mind if I take your ass first, will you?" The boy started to squirm, so the man wrapped his arm around him to control the squirming, barking "Don't make me take it the hard way!" The other guy asked "You need me to hold him down?" With that the boy quieted down, presumably figuring out that he had no choices given the situation. The hairy man on the kid's back pulled his cock out of the side of his jock and stroked it a few times. He then spat on it for lubrication, and positioned himself in the boy's (presumably) cherry crack. The other guy, who was standing near me, turned saying "I wanna see him take it the hard way, don't you?" I told him "Naw, that's messed up" to which he replied "Well, too bad, I'm gonna make sure he gets it hard. You ain't gonna do shit about it but watch and jerk your cock." The man went over to the bed, and stabilized the kid's legs, telling his buddy "Little man over there wants to see him get it hard." "Ok, then, hard it is. Get the restraints out from under the bed. You get this side and the little man can get the other." I quickly decided to go along with the plan, and within a couple of minutes the kid was restrained. The guys gave the kid a couple hits of tina to calm him down, making him horny and submissive. The man on top adjusted his cock across the boy's hole and starts to nicely hump his crack. "That cock feels good, doesn't it, son?" "Yes, sir." "You won't mind having your ass used like this, will ya?" "No, sir." "You sure?" "Yes sir." He covers the boy's mouth with his hand and jabbed his cock in the boy's hole. The kid's contortions told me he was in agony. The top fucked the kid for about half an hour, nutting three times in the kid's ass, non-stop fucking. Talk about stamina! Then the other guy fucked the kid while his buddy scouted outside, apparently inviting additional guys to join in the assault on the kid's ass. I admit I enjoyed watching the scene, but also knew it could easily become dangerous to me: I physically was much more similar to the bottom than to either top, and presumably could become the target of their attentions. So, I slipped-out of the room, just as three leather dudes passed me on their way to the room.
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I've been thinking about the little nitty gritty differences between LGBT and NSA sex. I don't mean to generalize anybody, but, for me I enjoy having sex with men and I also love teasing them online. I've never considered myself to be part of the LGBT group nor do I feel "left behind" or "oppressed" when politicians or religious people say insulting things about same sex encounters, relationships etc etc. For me its about losing inhibition and letting men use me for sex; and if I were to be in a relationship, it'd have to be sex based. I was wondering what everybody else's views are on this.
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Just a short story from a bi guy. English is not my native language and I´m no born writer: ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Dan was 20 and 6" 140lb, your lean, bit slutty, bit nerdy kind of guy playing it cool, discovering his same-sex desires while keeping a girlfirend, and kind of a jerk. One of those days, when Mary would not feel like having sex and he wasn´t, yet again, very sucessful finding a girl behind Mary´s back, he yet again browsed the gay dating sites. There he stumbled across a guy, aged 35, 6", 180, average, slightly working out according to his profile, no photo attached (with which he had no problem as he wanted to play "discreet"), who was writing he and his friend want to have a fun in three, "just some drinks and we´ll see where it leads". Danny had some experience with guys, a guy once wanked and sucked him in the park, he was once with two guys his age and really liked the special attention they paid him, at the time before he found his, at times reluctant girlfriend who at times he thought must be teasing him by depraving him sex and then enjoying the extra mood he had to fuck her after the abstinence period was over and "she felt like it again". The two decided to meet that night at the guys´ place with his friend, be surprised by each others´ look, not forcing the photographs since all of them agreed on discrete approach and at 9PM, the guys seemed to be genuinely surprised when he rang their block of flats´ intercom at the ground floor. It was a bit weird for Dan, though - normally, he always managed to get the other side´s photo and refuse the meeting offer if he felt like it, making fun of some of the photographs and not replying to some of the guys he found too fat, old or weird. All of this started to get to him as he was riding the lift to the apartment of the guys on 13th floor. As the guy opened the door, he thought that he would just turn around and leave. The guy didn´t look that old, but he certainly wasn´t his type. The only thing that intrigued him was the large bulge in his jogging shorts, the guy, his friend appearing just seconds after him, seeing it, smiles forming on their faces quickly, before Dan faced them again and saw the guy´s friend was even older than Josh. "Say hello to Dan, Mitch", said Josh and Dan greeted him, somewhat uneasily, unimpressed by the guy´s face, but impressed to a degree by his huge muscular physique. If Josh was 6" 180, Mitch must have been 6" 2, or 6" 3 even and at least 200 pounds of muscle and body, very well built. Josh, seeing the potential for Dan chickening away, asked Dan to come inside to just join them just for a drink or two and see. Unbeknownst to Dan, Josh recognized in him the prick who turned him down just two years earlier for his looks, then really out of shape, now 40 pounds lighter and more muscular, not the handsomest, but still a nice man. The kid had no idea. They started with a boringly long small talk and some beer, after which Josh tried to caress with Mitch Dan on his thigh, to which Dan replied it is nice of them but he really just want to hang out and don´t see them being match in this way. Josh told the two he is going to get some more drinks while Mitch started to bullshit the kid talking how nice it is to meet him, how gorgeous he is and how nice it would have been if they could be more intimate, distracting Dan´s attention, following Josh´s plan. In the meanwhile, Josh prepared nine shots of vodka, adding just the right amount of Rohypnol in two of them, sorting them in three rows by three glasses in each. He was happy the kid didn´t remember him and he was looking to it he won´t remember this night, but will remember his lesson. End of Part I ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------ Let me know if you like where this is heading and you want a Part II
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Stories about raceplay between masculine black and white men with big dicks and big juicy butts only. -
Hello, friendly older chubby from Hamburg looking for active pozboys, aidsfucker or any other, toxic loads, bugchaser, any deseases and infections are very welcome, beginners and foreigners any races and nations also welcome, for travellers, visitors and tourists bed and breakfest is possible, i can host, asians latino and blacks would be great but everybody is welcome with any std's pls.
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My first attempt at a story plus English isn't my first language, so please have some patience with me: ‐-------------‐--- Part 1: After 10 years of practice as a general practitioner, I decided to widen the scope of my services to interesting group of people with a particular fetish - the so-called bug chasers. You see, I'm your ordinary MD, 36 y.o., 145 lbs at 6'0", skinny, slightly muscular build, brown hair and green eyes. Of course I couldn't legally operate the business and announce my services in official medical boards and bulletins. Instead, I started offering my services on various hard-core BDSM and bug-chasing web sites, offering both office and home visits to my clients. Having the virus for 3 years now and being, at blood type 0 the universal donor, I am always ready for assistance to those in need for a conversion. My first call of the day was a home visit to a desperate wife, age 30, whose man, now 32, was HIV+ for one year now, and since she was still negative and remained so after his results came back, was now more and more desperate, after their sex life was getting less and less frequent and satisfying and she was reacting particularly bad to the PrEP, he to the HIV medication. After some counselling in which she voiced her strong desire she can't live without him and want to share his fate, I advised her that we can infect her with one or two strains of the virus as fast as possible, so that the progress of the disease will match each others, quoting the possibility of double strain infection that we can attain by injecting her with just a tiny bit of his husband's blood (though blood type incompatible) if mine was not strong enough. After getting through all the risks and outcomes of such a decision and getting her consent once again, I sit on the bed close to her, put up her sleeve, choked her arm with the rubber band I took from my medical bag together with the still sterile and capped injection set, placed it into a tray next to her, took out the alcohol and a swab, swabbed her arm veins, uncapped the point, pricked myself and drew around 2ml of my blood, found her vein, asked her for one last time and, seeing her nod and looking into her eyes for one last time, inserted the blood red needle into her vein and pushed the plunger. I withdrew the needle, put the cotton and band aid to the injection site, raised her hand slightly and undid the rubber band. She reported a slight second burning sensation, which I commented as normal, repeated in short the likely future of her case and made an appointment for her HIV test in two weeks, just in case she will be asymptomatic. I had to hide my raging hard on I get from thinking about spreading our ranks. Before two weeks time, she called me into my office to report a particularly bad case of flu symptoms. A week after her Elisa test, I was happy to inform her about her new acquired status. End of Part 1.
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Anyone willing to organise a loooong session of cock worshipping?
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BASSAR (part one) I have a secret. His name is Bassar. Probably the most beautiful man of all men I have ever been with. He is from Puerto Rico but he has a mix of Latin and Arab. His build is the typical ideal gay man bod, muscular, hairy, black hair, brown eyes, and dark olive skin. He has small hands a perfect ass and a huge cock and when he fucks, he means it. Sensual until he pounds my sweet ass into jelly, and a kiss to remember. His scent is of men, men who mate with men, men who fuck men, men who breed together in hot sweaty mating grounds of the city nights or of the tropical paradise he comes from. He smells of Persian spice and speaks Spanish as a native tongue but does pretty well with English though slightly broken, he is learning here in New York how to speak fluently so he can get better at it. He lived in Florida before he came here in Miami, where they speak Spanish everywhere because it is flooded with Cuban immigrants from yesteryears. I really must visit this Florida. I dream of him and I mating, making love, just him and me in a white silk bed in a modern palatial bedroom in a two person bungalow, upon a white sands beach upon a small secluded island of paradise, perhaps a private island within the proximity of his beautiful American Commonwealth, but far enough away to never be bothered by anyone. The daydream starts with myself awaking in our bed under thin cool covers in mid-morning, with a brisk yet temperate wind blows by through the windows as the sun glows bright within through huge openings and windows of the lovers bungalow. I am naked turned upon my stomach when I am roused to the touch of his sweet slow kisses upon my back feeling his hard, muscular hairy body upon me. I know his body, and he knows mine. We both have played this game with others and by now we know what to expect. We know where to kiss, touch, lick, and I feels his semi hard penis getting harder as he’s gracefully kisses down my neck to my back. I feel myself smile as the morning lust makes its call due to nature’s design and from the most beautiful man in the world. He makes it to my ass licking and kissing from the top of my hairy crack to the very center betwixt my round globes of hairy ass cheeks and he grunts as he dives into my asshole, which is so clean and fresh with the scent of me. He loves my smell and I love his. Our scent, permeates the cool breeze of the tropics, our man smells, his spice with my sugar, our sex, our scent, the two us, man beasts in heat, mating, making love within the desire of each other for the moment. He licks first into my asshole with a slow yet vigorous lap that collects the salty sweat that has accumulated over the night and I can smell myself, making me harder because now I know it is upon his lips, his beard, and soon to be his entire face. I feel the sensation and I begin to moan as a man would while getting his asshole lick by such a creature of paradise. He laps at it, slowly but gaining momentum, lovingly moaning with me, holding my ass cheeks apart as my hands slowly wrap around his medium length, thick, black hair. I can tell he enjoys the taste and smell as he breathes his nose into my hole while licking my scrotum and taint, because he is like “mmmmmm” in his masculine manly tone. He moves his mouth up my taint and into my asshole again farting his very long pointed tongue into it making me moan I’m vulnerability, as a man I am to be his mate, his man-wife, his vessel of flesh to carry his love making seed, the man milk that is swollen within his beautiful hairy balls that are shaped like small plums. He gets more aggressive as he laps the oils of my sweet asshole that smell of fine cheddar and salted meat, his grunts evolving to quick deep growls of approval. He enjoys my asshole better than anyone could ever and I open up for him as if pushing out whatever assholes push out through there but I am so clean, there is no dirt or waste, just my gut flavor he collects with his mouth and tongue. I start to moan louder, “fuck baby that’s so good.” “Mmmm hmmm,” he growls lovingly as he laps and nipples at my asshole flaps. Every stroke of the lick counts as me munches my butthole with eager and genuine purpose and I moan louder like the bitch in heat that I am. I sense I am beside myself watching this moment writhing slightly upon the king sized bed with a white bug net failing to conceal us entirely if anyone were to pry. The imagery is spectacular in such a sexually driven way that it should be deemed the greatest love making image ever imagined by yours truly, and I know a lot of men sexually. A lot. Well over a thousand, but I do not boast next to this beast who grinding his chin into my wet gaping asshole. I moan louder and without hesitation for I know no one can hear my loud bellowing moans and even so I wouldn’t mind the quaint audience besides. Like I would ever be ashamed of this man, this beast, my lover and mate, who is about to get me pregnant with his huge load that aches within his pulsating swollen balls. He turns me to my back and downs my engorged cock that seems to be at its biggest and longest, and I look into his dark Persian eyes and his to mine and there is the understanding that only belongs to us, the understanding that we are going to make each other feel so physically profound. I loved I’m and he loves me, I want him as a man, and he wants me the same. The connection is real and it makes me even harder and even a good dose of precum is ejected into his wet mouth as he slurps slowly up and down my shaft. He naturally gulps the tasty ejaculate and closes his eyes as if to experience the flavor of my manhood, and I sense he’s really enjoying it. “Mmmmmmm, fockk” he is able to muster as best as he could with my cock in his handsome mouth, “So gud.” “You like my prejizz baby?” I asked quietly. He pulls of my cock with a satisfying slurp, “you know I love it and crave it.” I do know it. I know because eyes don’t lie and his eyes are on mine as I smile down at him with approval of his skills. He smiles back as he continues to deep throat my cock while lapping up my nuts. Somehow he is able to fit them into his mouth entirely with my huge pulsating cock that is probably oozing sweat and jiz. He keeps them in there for a moment saturating all of my juices and I am growling with both amazement and sheer pleasure of my genitals getting soaked by his saliva. “Oh fuck baby,” I moan with manly vulnerability, “oh fuck, my fucking cock and balls, oh my god...” “Mmmmmm,” he responds to the best of his capability being as he soaks up the salty oils and viscous precum that is now just oozing at a rate of lord know what. He does this until I’m about to cum, then with a loud gratifyingly long loud slurp he lifts his head quickly from my cock and balls and I shiver in moaning, quivering writhement. (Yep I made up that word, it means my writhing at hand) He moves up my body kissing and licking to kiss me finally and I can taste and smell my asshole and it is so good I begin to lick his face as he giggles and kisses mine. The first kiss of the day. “Good morning,” he says and we both chuckle at the notion that it was truly the ideal way to have a good morning. “Morning, my beautiful man,” I say as he engulfs my mouth into his and we hungerly (yep made this one up too though it should exist anyway. It means with the intention of hunger but this is in the figurative sense if you hadn’t guessed.) kiss each other’s wet open mouths for what seemed to be a few moments. We hold each other while we do, and his bod y and mine wrap together and our cock rub against each other, pulsating and oozing so much precum, it becomes our lube as we grind. We hump each other, our dicks getting covered with precum, making him slide upon me as my legs wrap around his buttocks and thighs as we kiss and moan like two men in deep physical ecstasy. I could easily cum this way and I tell him that in between our long, slow, open mouth kisses. Side note, our breath is just fine though it’s morning and I woke up into this. It’s my fantasy so there is no morning breath or excrement or anything that is usually a part of the human condition. So if you are like me and like to ponder the moments described in books and can’t help think about the reality wouldn’t be as ideal, you’re probably thinking “ewwww morning breath?” Well in this daydream our mouths taste like fresh melon and cherries with a hint of mint, as if we were eating these fruits together at once with the juices spilling into our tastebuds, so yeah got it covered. That is along with the taste of salted meat and a fine cheddar being as he just licked my asshole and rectum thoroughly and siphoned what excretion he could from my hairy genitals. Hey gotta have that too, it’s a part of the manly enjoyment gay men have during sex so don’t “ewww” that. Carrying on... Bassar gets up and grabs my leg and brings my feet to his face and sniffs the pungent odor of my toes and soles, then begins to lick and suck them. I’m a little ticklish so when this happens I kinda giggle but I love the sensation of his mouth which is slightly smiling at me while he licks and slurps, making him more attractive than ever. He does both of my feet and then licks and kisses up my thighs, then for a moment he sucks my dick, then kisses and licks up my stomach to my nipples which are hard wired to my fucking cock that is now so hard it almost aches, then my neck and finally he meets my open mouth sharing the taste of my feet. It’s a strong taste but we share it, between a kiss with our eyes open gazing back at one another like an infant would a mother nursing them. I push him to his back and we kiss more and then I start where he left off, down his neck and then to his nipples which are also hard wired to his huge cock, I can feel it is so hard it is vibrating as it grazes my abs. Then I smell the thick odor of his pheromones, his man scent, as it flows into my nose, tantalizing it’s pleasure sensors, producing vibrations through my body and finally to my cock, which now aches with stiffening pleasure. He lifts his arm up and his hairy out is offered to me and I take a huge whiff of it, and the spice of his musk burns within me, this is the smell of him that will mark me, when other males come to sniff me they will smell that I am his... ...and he is mine. In this daydream, he belongs to me. Only me. The only way he would ever. I grind my mug into his armpit and get the scent soaked into my facial hair and skin as he does to my pits in similar fashion. We both lick and slurp the oils of our masculinity and then share the flavors with a kiss, mixing our scent and flavor as we both enjoy because they symbolize our bodies coming together to create love. The physical man love gay men foster and that no other sexuality, not even bisexual men, could ever understand since they have been with women. (This matters because no offense to girls but your flavor can taint the meat, symbolically I mean, not literally. I’ll explain in a future entry possibly about bisexual men. But please don’t be offended, for I am a feminist and I still love women and hold them to high esteem, the highest in fact, but I chemically love men and this is a story for men who love men too if you hadn’t guessed.) After we kiss I jump directly to his hard cock as he lays on his back with his hands behind his head, naturally flexing his broad hairy chest, making him so fucking sexy, which makes me just bob my head on his cock like a white whore on a black cock. I feel his member getting almost too big for my mouth to handle but I manage with almost dislocating my jaw as I saturate his crotch kicked and oils along with the large doses of precum that seem to shoot into the back of my cock hungry throat. He smiles with accepting loving pleasure as he growls in delight. I’m growing too but because of the complexity of managing my mouth upon such a gargantuan stiff cock that smells of his spice and taste of sea salt and a fine cheese. Not the dick cheese, fuck no, gross, but hey that’s your thing no offense but not a fan of excrement. His cock is uncut but he’s clean of course yet the secretions crest a flavor my cock could never and I am envious he is able to share this pleasure with me. I want him to know how good he tastes so with a long yet quick slurp I release his cock and move up to him and we kiss, mixing the flavor between each other adding to the other ingredients of our bodies that we had sampled earlier. He then turns upon his stomach and I lick down his back as he did earlier to me, and as soon as I’m upon his hairy asshole I begin to eat. First by lapping up and down his crack to his taint then back into his asshole with circular methods that cover every crease of his beautiful open butthole. I grind my nose and chin into it as he growls like a man being pleasured by his bitch who is in n heat. His asshole opens even more and I finger it and taste the innards of my love and he grinds into them, chewing my digits with his mouthing asshole. “Fuck baby,” Bassar moans with a gruffest tone, “that feels so good, my asshole feels so good.” “Yeah?” I say as I slowly open mouth kiss his his open butthole with loud smacks of my lips and tongue, “you like when I eat this delicious ass, baby?” “Fuck yeah!” He loans grinding his whole ass into my face, “eat that fucking juicy pussy baby!” As he smears his asshole upon my face like an eraser to paper, I push back with my head as I start to jerk off. I’m about to cum but stop myself because I still have to tend to his feet. So I stop and do just that. We kiss long and deep after I suck off both of his feet clean and the mix of asshole, feet, cock, balls, cum, pits and mouth make the most delicious concoction within our mouths as we exchange fluids and rub our cocks together. He flips me upon the bed and I know that it is time. He places my feet upon his shoulders and we engage into intercourse missionary style. Before he enters me he asks me permission to proceed while he kisses me and I whisper, “yes.” (Sorry but a tangent but it’s my story so, by pass the parentheses to continue, but this is further explanation of a moment like this, which is important and should be practiced even in one way or another, but it’s a matter of preference I suppose. This moment between us, when he asks me permission to enter me, is the moment that is probably the most important of this sex story because of what it means. He wants to enter me in a place that is extremely vulnerable and could easily turn bad if he were to just thrust into me or enter me the wrong way, tearing me up down there, which I’ve been violated in that fashion before and it’s no picnic. Also I’m sorry if the mention of my physical violation ruins my story for you but I’m making a point about this, because asking permission not only seems romantic and touching, also it lets the top know that the bottom trusts him completely enough to give such a delicate place to him. It’s encouraging which fills the top with strong affections and lust towards the bottoms affirmation. Also it lets the bottom feel that the top is actually concerned about the well being of his lover as well as permission to enjoy the bottom, encouraging the bottom. It means both men truly want each other and that is something we all need, is to be wanted by someone, at least one person, in this world. Both men feel desired by one another’s exchange at this moment which in this case would be the best example of exceptional erosian love. It’s quite the honor two or more sexual partners can share, the highest honor in my opinion.) (Erosian, yes another made up word, erosian is derived from Eros the god of love and lust, it means the love that lovers share as opposed to family love and the love of people.) He kisses me for a few moments with the head of his dick grazing across the right creases around my butthole, feeling the delicacy of pleasure he is about to enjoy. I am already naturally lubed up for him as he slowly, while kissing me still, slides the rest of his cock into me, making us both sigh into each other’s mouths, because it is a perfect intrusion. “You’re so fucking wet,” Bassar says to men as me ears my mouth with an open mouth kiss that is wet and his tongue dominates mine as the lead of a dance would do. I let myself loose like putty in his strong hairy muscular arms and he uses my body to mold around his, taking control of it with his affections in mind. He thrusts slowly at first, sensually sliding the shaft of his cock in and out of my asshole which fluctuates with the fifth of his thick shaft. From head to hilt, he enters me, all the way in and almost all the way out until just the tip of his dick is still inside, and then he thrusts it in a little harder and faster each time. He does this until it gradually becomes a balls deep pounding. Suddenly he flips me to my stomach and begins to fuck me and I feel his balls slap mine and each time he pumps me with cock, it seems to get thicker and pulsates faster, making it feel so good to the rim of my hole, which is stretching like a rubber band around a baseball bat. “Fuuuuck baby,” he moans, “this ass is so good. I love it so much.” “Oh fuck,” I moan, submitted to the cock at hand, “oh fuck it feels so good to be fucked by you.” “You love this dick baby?” “Fuck yeah,” I say as he pumps me deeper with it. “You want it all day, baby? Some of this big dick?” “Yes I do,” I say nodding my head while I focus on his pump action. “Want me to slam you? Then do a little g and give you some K to relax your sweet ass?” I stop, “Fuck what are we waiting for?! Let’s fucking do it.” We stop and he pulls out. I’m so clean that I suck his dick to savor the flavor of my gut and we kiss after, which he enjoys immensely. “Mmmmm that sweet salty ass is so good,” Bassar responds after we finish lip locking. I’m drinking orange juice and eating a banana as he prepares the shots and doses of g and k. Everything is organized and he pulls out another shot but this one is trimix. Immediately he injects it into his cock and starts to rub it in, making his cock so massive, it looks like a lot of a tree between his legs. Bassar hands me a pill. “Muscle relaxer,” He says, “it will help with the k so you can handle my big dick.” His broken English is not so broken in this daydream, he’s actually speaking very well. Must be my influence on him. I take the pill and swallow it. Then he sits me down, and ties the tourniquet around my bicep and tells me to pump my hand ten times. So I do and he rubs alcohol on the area of insertion. Before he injects me he kisses the point of entry then looks up at me and kisses me. “Ready?” He asks me. “Fucking born ready,” I say with a smile. He chuckles and immediately inserts the needle into my arm and pulls back the plunger on the syringe. A flash of blood flows like a ribbon in the mixture within the barrel and quickly he pushes the meth into my arm and before he pulls the needle out, he removes the tourniquet and then grabs the alcohol pad and immediately covers the entry point. “Hold on to this for about two minutes, ok?” “Of course,” I tell him, “this isn’t my first rodeo, ya know.” As I finish saying that, the rush hits me and it’s a good thing I’m sitting down because I am fucking high. So high I am dizzy. He injects him self and starts moan with the rush after he takes the needle out and the tourniquet off. He likes to hold his arm up in the air to make the rush more intense. I don’t just because every time I do I get sick and throw up. I am amped and by the look on his face so is he, his eyes are wide open and he tells me to take the g shot before I snort the K, so I do. He does the g but doesn’t do the K because he doesn’t need to. Meth and ghb is enough for him. After all that he picks me up and kisses me and then drops me on the bed.
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I am a gay guy that is in love with my best friend (he is not gay) of 50 years. He does not know I am gay and I really wish that he knew how I feel about him. But I am scared that if he finds out that I am gay, he will not want to be my friend anymore. I need your advice and tips of how to make love with my best friend.
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I am new to New York City and wondering where the hotspots for hot sex are public or otherwise. Also looking for groups who meet on a regular basis. I am on I’m looking or I am planning for something soon. Feel free to message me with any questions. Serious inquiries only please. Thanks.<br> NSA FWB BB only. Cannot host. Fisting top here, but otherwise I’m a Bottom mostly but will dyke put with another bottom. Admin.<br> Into anything but women children animals excrement dating harm hosting haters condoms racists arrogance bossy tops and anon sex.<br> I like wild over mild, long sessions with foreplay oral kissing anal and cuddling. Call me a fag but that’s what I like.<br> If I don’t respond I’m either put of emails, send an email or number I can text, or I’m not interested. Again apologies, happy hunting.
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Chris is an 18 year old senior in high school. Straight, dark brown hair, Brown eyes, swimmers build, captain of the track team. His beautiful girlfriend, Ann. Who, he fucked every chance he got. Chris knew he had a hot body, and that certainly didn’t go unnoticed by Jack, his 56 year old next neighbor, who secretly lusted and had discreetly watched Chris from his bedroom window, Jack who was 5,6 slim with sliver gray hair, had fantasized on fucking the clueless young man. Jack’s best friend, Oliver, who was a year older, then Jack over weight and was 5’8. Both talked about what they would do with Chris, if they could get their hands on the 6’ foot stud. and as fate would have it, an opportunity would happen for Oliver and Jack. Chris was getting ready for work at the comic book store he worked at. He was by himself after 4 when his boss left. It was a mom and pop place, so no security cameras, he was alone. He would see customers and by closing it was dead slow. Jack and Oliver knew the shop closed at 8 and with that, they went to see Chris, to ask him about comic books. At least that was their story. Around 745PM, Oliver and Jack showed up, Chris was surprised. “Hi Chris,” Jack said with a very cheerful voice. “Hello Chris,” came from Oliver. “Hello Mr. Morgan.” Hello, Mr. Reeves.” “What brings you here?” “First of all, it’s not Mr. Morgan, it’s Jack.” “And I’m Oliver.” “We’re looking for the Amazing Spider-Man 700.” Oliver said. “He’s looking to get it for his nephew, he can’t find it anywhere.” Jack finishing up Oliver’s sentence. “Let me check the back issues.” Chris goes to the back, Jack puts a roofie into Chris’s soda. “I got it” as Chris comes from the back. “Thank you, Chris!” Oliver says, paying for the book. “Thank you for looking” Jack says with a grin. The men quickly leave, Chris fishes cashing out for the night. Takes a sip of his Soda, slowly feels dizzy, trying to keep his balance, but passes out. At that moment both men come back in, Oliver locked the door, while Jack goes to check on Chris, who is out cold. Quickly, putting their plan into action, Oliver gets Chris’s keys and goes to hide his car, so everyone thinks he has left. Jack, using Chris’s finger print to unlock his phone, setting up a fake profile on various gay websites that caters to older men. Oliver returns, having parked Chris’s car three blocks away from the store. Oliver and Jack manage to get Chris into the back and unto the couch. Both men slowly undress the young man, Oliver is impressed by what he sees. Chris’s smooth chest, the pubic hairs above his soft dick, but once it got hard and thick it would be great to play with. Chris let’s out a moan, slowly waking up, finding himself staring at Oliver and Jack naked standing over him. “What’s going on here?” As Chris slurred his words, and barely able to move. “It’s ok Chris, just enjoy it and relax.” Jack said in a soothing voice, easing the young man’s mind.” Oliver, went to go get Chris’s soda, giving him a pill viagra to get him hard and with the roofie still in the soda, Chris passes out again, Jack puts lube on his dick, which is now hard, and puts some lube on Chris’s hole, slowly sliding his 7 inch cock into the young man. Oliver, watches Jack fuck Chris, who’s own cock is now hard thanks to the viagra. Oliver set up a camera to record all the action, and to use it, against Chris, if he should try and say anything to anybody about this. Jack felt himself starting to cum inside Chris, who was now half awake unable to speak and seeing Jack between his legs and his cock in his ass. “Here, it comes Chris!” Jack let’s out a loud yelp. Shooting his load into him. “My turn.” Oliver says, as he positions himself between the young man, not using lube due to the cum leaking out of Chris’s ass. ”I’ve waited a long time for this.” Oliver said. Chris couldn’t do much, the roofie took much of his energy, and was surprised to see he was hard. All Chris could do was take it. while Oliver was finishing up, there was a knock at the door. Jack went to answer it, and to his surprise, there were eight men ranging in age from 53 to 77. “Hi, I believe this is the place where we get to bareback a hot jock.” said the man with the eye glasses, who was 5’2 and stocky. “Why yes it is” Jack said with a grin. Pointing to the back, Jack locks the door, and follows the men to the back. “My he is beautiful.” One guy said. Oliver shoots his second load into Chris. “Times up, Ollie, we have to give these fine gentlemen a turn with our boy.” each of the men took turns fucking Chris. Who couldn’t do much but take it, Oliver started jerking Chris’s cock, while deciding to fuck him again. “Chris, this is a night you’re never going to forget.” While shooting another load into the young man’s ass. And at the same time, Chris shot his load all over, in which Oliver, fed Chris his own load, who licked it off his the next morning , Chris woke up in his bed, thinking he had dream the whole thing, until he got a text from Jack, with a link to the video saying “Don’t day anything to anyone, or we will release it all over the internet.” Chris now was their personal cum and he knew he couldn’t tell anyone either
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So as per the title, why don't we start up a thread with all your stories? I did look around first to make sure one didn't exist so I hope I'm not repeating anyone! Doesn't matter if they are cringeworthy or embarrassing, I love reading them. My first time was when I was 19. It was also my first time enduring any kind of sexual encounter. I agreed to meet up with a hot, tall guy (around 6ft 4inches) who was 38 years old. I was totally nervous but super excited all at the same time, but I agreed to meet up with him as his home after chatting online. When I turned up, we started chatting and the kissing, and then he took me to his bedroom. We carried on kissing and then I would soon go down and suck him off. Swiftly after starting I blew my own load in my underwear. Totally lame!! It was beyond embarrassing but I was so excited at the time, it was all I could think about and could I couldn't control myself. After that we agreed to meet again and he introduced me to anal, he was HUGE. He hurt but it was amazing. Definitely confirmed I was gay . We remained FBs for a long while before I went into a relationship with someone else. He's in am open marriage so it was never going to be with him. Still good friends though.
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