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Part 1 It all started at the nightclub The bass was a physical force, a deep, primal thrum that vibrated up from the soles of their feet and into their chests. Inside the packed club, the air was thick with heat, sweat, and the sweet, cloying scent of spilled drinks. Strobe lights sliced through the darkness, illuminating a sea of moving bodies. Jake stands at 5’11’’, brown hair, boyish food looks. Clean shaven. Average build. He’s wearing tight jeans and a sweat soaked black tank top. At 42, Jake moved with a comfortable confidence, his arm often finding its way around the waist of his partner, Chad. At 21, Chad was a vision of youthful energy. His lean, sweaty and hairless torso glistened under the lights, his brown hair plastered to his forehead with sweat. Every few minutes, his blue eyes would find Jake's, a silent, loving check-in in the chaotic environment. They were with another couple, longtime friends of Jake's. Asha, a sexy Arabic man, was impossible to miss. At 47, he was a towering, muscular presence with a thick, dark beard and a body covered in a dense mat of hair that was visible even in the dim light. His partner Andrew was a man of similar age, moved with a quieter grace beside him. It was the first time Chad and Asha had met, and an immediate, electric current sparked between them. It wasn't anything overt, just a series of lingering glances across the dance floor. When they found themselves near each other, Asha's hands would "accidentally" brush against Chad's side, and Chad would lean into the touch, a small, knowing smile playing on his lips. The flirting was a secret language spoken only between them, hidden in the chaos of the club. During a break, Chad slipped away to the restroom. The line was long, but a muscular, tattooed guy with dilated pupils and a wide grin leaned in close. “You’re fucking adorable. First time?" he'd asked, not waiting for an answer before pressing 2 small pills into Chad's palm. "For a better time." Chad didn't hesitate. He popped one in his mouth and swallowed it with a sip of water. He found Asha near the bar and, under the guise of pointing something out, pressed the pill into his hand. Asha's fingers closed around it, his dark eyes meeting Chad's with a flash of understanding and raw hunger. Asha popped it into his mouth without a second thought, swallowing it dry. The next hour was a blur. The music seemed to melt into a single, continuous wave of euphoria. Chad felt a profound connection to everyone, to the music, to the lights. He danced with Jake, but his eyes kept finding Asha, who was now moving with an uninhibited, primal energy, his body a force of nature on the dance floor. Finally, the lights came up, signaling the end of the night. The spell was broken. The four men, sweaty and exhausted, piled into a taxi back to the hotel. In the quiet of the car, the energy shifted. Chad rested his head on Jake's shoulder, the secret of the pill and the stolen glances with Asha buzzing under his skin. The hotel suite was cool and quiet after the club's sensory overload. It had two bedrooms, linked by a single, large master bathroom. Jake and Chad headed for one room, Asha and his partner for the other. Doors closed, and the suite fell silent. Jake was already half-asleep, but Chad was wide awake, the ecstasy still humming through his veins. He needed to piss. He slipped out of bed, padding silently across the carpet and pushing open the door to the shared bathroom. The light was on. Asha was there, standing in front of the toilet, his muscular frame tense. He was fully naked, his hairy body on display. He seemed to be struggling, his brow furrowed in concentration. A common, frustrating side effect of ecstasy. Chad didn't say a word. He walked by the sink, catching Asha's gaze in the mirror. A slow, confident smile spread across Chad's face. He hooked his thumbs into the waistband of his briefs and slid them down his lean legs. His cock, soft and perfect, sprang free. He pulled back the foreskin, exposing the pink head, and aimed at the toilet right next to Asha. Asha watched, transfixed, his own forgotten frustration melting away. Chad let out a soft sigh of relief as a long, powerful stream of piss shot from him, hitting the water with a loud, satisfying hiss. He held Asha's gaze the entire time, a look of pure, unadulterated pleasure on his face. He was pleased with himself, with the effect he was having on this powerful, older man. As his stream began to slow, Chad's free hand moved. He reached over and wrapped his fingers around Asha's thick, hairy cock. It was already hardening in his grasp, hot and heavy. Asha let out a low groan, his head falling back. Chad shook off the last drops, then turned to face Asha fully. There was no need for words. The secret flirting, the shared pill, the charged silence in the bathroom—it all led here. Chad sank to his knees, his blue eyes looking up at Asha's bearded face. He took the thick cock into his mouth, tasting the salt of his skin. Asha's hands tangled in Chad's brown hair, his hips thrusting forward gently. The blowjob was wet and hungry, but it was only the beginning. After a few minutes, Asha pulled Chad to his feet and spun him around, bending him over the cool marble of the bathroom counter. He spat into his hand and worked the saliva into Chad's tight, hairless hole. Chad pushed back, eager for it. Asha positioned himself behind him, the thick head of his cock pressing against Chad's entrance. He pushed in slowly, a deep guttural moan escaping his lips as he sank into the younger man's heat. Chad bit his lip to keep from crying out, his hands braced against the counter. The sex was quiet but fierce. A frantic, desperate coupling. Asha's hips pistoned, driving his bare cock deep into Chad's ass. The only sounds were their ragged breaths, the slap of skin against skin, and the low, muffled groans they tried to suppress. Asha's hairy chest pressed against Chad's smooth back, his beard scratching at Chad's neck. It was raw, primal, and utterly intoxicating. Chad could feel his own orgasm building, his cock trapped between his body and the counter. Asha reached around, his rough hand wrapping around Chad's shaft and stroking him in time with his thrusts. “That’s it baby, let go. Cum for me”. That was all it took. Chad's body tensed, and he came hard, his cum spilling onto the marble floor and cabinet doors below. The clenching of Chad's ass pushed Asha over the edge. With a final, powerful thrust, he buried himself to the hilt and unloaded deep inside Chad, his body shuddering with the force of his release. For a moment, they stayed like that, panting, their bodies slick with sweat. Then, slowly, Asha pulled out. They cleaned themselves up in silence, the air thick with what they'd just done. Not a word was spoken. Chad slipped back into his bedroom. Jake was still sound asleep. Chad slid into bed, his body thrumming with a post-sex, post-ecstasy glow. He could feel Asha's cum leaking out of him, a warm, sticky reminder of the secret encounter in the bathroom. He closed his eyes, the image of Asha's powerful, hairy body burned into his mind, and drifted into a deep, dreamless sleep. Stay tuned for part 2.

FATTY CUNT HOLE HUNGRY FOR HOT CREAM VISITING BERLIN FOR SEVERAL DAYS LOOKING FOR HORNY TOP MEN. WHERE CAN I MAKE MY DREAMS COME TRUE?

Part 1. As I slowly regained consciousness, the first thing I felt was pain--excruciating pain, deep in my stomach and my asshole--that shot through my body in waves. Next came the ripe, musky smell of sweat, followed by the sounds of men having sex. I opened my eyes. Everything around me was dark and blurry, but I could make out a huge shadowy figure looming over me. I instinctively knew that everything I was feeling--the pain, the smells, the sounds--was coming from this enormous man, and I realized that I was being raped. I tried to scream, but my mouth wouldn't open. I tried to push him away, but I couldn't move my arms and legs. I realized then that I was paralyzed. The only part of my body I could control were my eyes. All I could do was watch in horror as this brutal beast tore apart my insides with every stroke of his burning hot cock. "Aha!" he suddenly snarled, noticing my eyes were open. His face then took on a frightening cruelty and viciousness, and he punched me in the stomach, knocking the wind out of me and causing my anal sphincter to tighten around his cock. He started thrusting into me even harder, shouting at me in a coarse, guttural language I didn't understand. And then, as if out of nowhere, I heard a familiar voice. "He's calling you a dirty whore... a worthless faggot," the voice hissed, "He says he's ripping you open... and when he's done... no one will ever want you... you filthy cunt!" I knew that voice. I tried in vain to turn my head, to see where it was coming from. "Don't bother trying to move, Allen," the hate-filled voice continued, "We've pumped you so full of drugs you won't be able to move for at least another hour, while Ibrahim the Beast here rips your asshole to pieces." "And you're going to love every minute of it, you nasty little cunt" hissed Will's voice, "aren't you, little brother?" --- Six months earlier --- I was born and raised in San Francisco as the fourth, unplanned child of ex-hippies, who were almost 50 by the time I was born. My parents called me their "miracle baby," and pampered me so much that by the time I turned 16, everyone called me "Her Highness" behind my back. It didn't help that even as a junior in high school, I still looked like a girl: 5'5", 120lbs, blond curly hair, and soft, nearly hairless ivory-white skin. Everyone but my parents thought I was a spoiled, whiny little princess, but I never got teased or bullied growing up because they all respected and feared my older brothers--Jack, Neal and Will--who were already in their late 20s by the time I was born. Like so many children of liberal baby-boomers, my brothers rebelled by becoming conservative. Against our parents' wishes, they joined the Catholic Church, played high school football, registered as Republicans and, when the First Gulf War broke out in 1990, enlisted in the U.S. Army. They came back from their tours in Kuwait as tough, hardened men who rarely ever smiled. Jack, the eldest, became a math teacher and football coach at our high school. Jack was the only brother to get married, but his 4-year, childless marriage to a fellow schoolteacher ended in divorce when I was about 2 years old. Neal, the second oldest, joined the San Francisco Police Department and quickly rose through the ranks to become captain. Neal had plenty of live-in girlfriends over the years, but never got married. Will, the third son, initially followed Neal's footsteps into the SFPD, but later joined the FBI; after 9/11, he left the FBI for a secretive job at Homeland Security that had him constantly traveling around the world. Unlike me, my brothers were also incredible specimens of manhood. I had clearly inherited my mother's genes, with my willowy frame and pale, delicate features, but my brothers took after my father, whose ancestors were from Lebanon and Syria--they weren't tall (about 5'10") but they were all built like brick shithouses, with black, curly hair covering nearly every inch of their muscular, burly bodies, and while I'd never seen them naked, I couldn't help but notice the flashlight-sized bulges in their pants. I grew up admiring my brothers from afar. They had all left home by the time I was born, and while they dutifully protected me from the bullies at school or in the neighborhood, they otherwise kept a polite distance. That all changed about a year ago, a few months after I turned 16. Our parents, who had patiently put up with my childish, selfish behavior for so many years, were tragically killed in a car accident. Since I was still a minor, it was decided that my brothers (who were in their early 40s at the time) would act as my co-guardians until I turned 18. Since Will was still traveling a lot for work, I was to spend half the year living with Jack and the other half with Neal. While our parents' death was devastating for everyone, I took it especially hard. I decided that I didn't want to be the good little "princess" any more, and started acting out--sneaking out at night and hanging with the "street kids" in our neighborhood. Most of these kids were gay runaways who made a living on the streets hustling or selling drugs, and I found myself being drawn to the danger, the excitement, and the hot sex that their lives promised. --- Meeting Antoine --- I was especially drawn to Antoine, a tall, skinny 23-year old black guy from Houston who was the unofficial leader of the local street gang. He supplied the rest of the kids with drugs (to use or sell), escorted for a bunch of white guys who couldn't get enough of his big, black cock, and made enough money to rent his own apartment near the Castro. I first met Antoine at a sex party in his apartment. I was invited by two street kids I used to hang out (and fool around) with sometimes--Manuel, a short but muscular 20-year old Salvadoran with visible gang tattoos, and Luis, a scrawny but tough-looking 18-year old Mexican from Fresno. There were four other guys at the party when we arrived--four big, black thugs. One of them, the tallest and best-looking of the group, got up and walked over. "Hi, I'm Antoine," he said, flashing a big smile and immediately putting me at ease, "and you must be Allen. I've heard a lot about you." He was tall--almost a foot taller than me--and strong, and when he draped his arm around my shoulders and walked me over to meet the rest of the guests, I felt safe and protected for the first time since my parents had died. "That there is Omar," he said, pointing to a 30s-ish dark-skinned man sitting on the couch with his shirt off, showing off a sinewy, heavily-muscled chest. "He's a good ni#$a to know; if he likes you he'll hook you up with anything you need and everything you want." Omar leaned back on the couch, looked me up and down, and smiled. "Nothing not to like so far," he said. "And those two motherfuckers fucking around with my party supplies," Antoine said, pointing to a couple of light-skinned thugs with matching face tattoos, "don't like it when I give out out their names to white boys they don't know, so you can just call them Master X and Master Y for now." The Masters, as I later came to know them, were bent over the coffee table measuring out white crystals into small plastic bags, and didn't look up. Antoine turned to me and asked, "so Manuel and Luis tell me you like to party, yeah?" I smiled and nodded sheepishly. I'd smoked weed before, but the Latino boys had recently introduced me to molly and poppers, which I absolutely loved. The fact that Manuel and Luis had then "taken advantage" of me by spit-roasting me only made it hotter. Antoine laughed, grabbed my right hand and brought it down to his crotch, where I could feel a huge cock starting to uncoil like a snake. "Baby, look what you're doing to me already," he said. "We are gonna have some fun tonight!" Antoine then turned to Manuel and Luis and told them to give me some weed and molly, then take me into the bathroom to get ready. Half an hour later, freshly partied up, cleaned out, and hurriedly spit-roasted again by Manuel and Luis, I walked back into the living room wearing nothing but a jockstrap. The lights were turned down, and the TV was playing black-on-white porn. Antoine, Omar, and the Masters had taken off their clothes and were sitting around the coffee table blowing thick, white clouds. Antoine looked up and called us over. "Allen baby, why don't you come here and suck my dick," he said with a devilish smile, then ordered Manuel and Luis to start servicing Omar and the Masters. I walked over to Antoine, eyeing the uncut brown snake resting on his lap. As I got down on my knees, his enormous cock grew even bigger, lengthening to about 12 inches in length and about 7 inches around. As I reached out and carefully raised his cock to my mouth, a line of clear pre-cum stretched from his lap to the gorgeous reddish head peeking out of his foreskin. I leaned over, stuck out my tongue, and gingerly licked the pre-cum from the tip. Antoine shuddered, and sank deeper into the couch, closing his eyes and moaning. I slowly pulled his foreskin back and started licking the creamy cheese underneath, taking my time to savor the taste. As I started to wrap my lips around his cockhead, Antoine pulled my head back up. "Hey baby," he said, "if you're going to take all of my dick we're gonna have to get you ready." He grabbed a bong from the coffee table and started heating it in front of my mouth. Looking down at the white wisps circling the bowl, I felt unsure of what I was doing for the first time that evening. "I'm sorry," I said sheepishly, "it's just, I've never done Tina before." "Oh baby," said Antoine with his beautiful smile, "there's nothing to worry about. Nobody here is going to hurt you; this'll just make it more fun for everyone." I looked down at his cock, which was starting to wilt. "It's not that I don't trust you," I said, "it's just, I'm worried about getting addicted." "Who said anything about getting addicted?" Antoine said loudly, the first hint of a frown on his face. In an even louder voice he continued, "Baby, with me, Omar and the Masters in the room you don't have to worry about nothing! We're all here to make sure you have a great time, right?" he said, looking over at his other guests. They all looked up and nodded. Antoine turned back to me and said, "All you got to do, baby, is relax, stop thinking so much, and just do what I tell you, okay?" I nodded and took his cock back in my mouth, determined not to disappoint this big, strong, beautiful, amazing black man. As I began licking his shaft like an ice cream cone, however, out of the corner of my eye I saw several pairs of feet approaching. Everything that followed happened so quickly that I didn't have time to react. Antoine suddenly grabbed my head and pulled me off his dick while the other guests grabbed my arms and legs; Antoine then leapt to his feet and ordered the others to turn me over and hold me down. As I lay on the floor struggling to break free, I suddenly felt a sharp, unbearable pain in my balls that made me shriek out loud--but only for a second, as Antoine quickly shoved a damp, rank athletic sock in my mouth to muffle my screams. Antoine was now on top of me, one hand covering my mouth and the other gripping my balls. "Allen baby, you just gotta calm down a bit," he said in a calm, soothing voice, "the pain will go away as soon as you stop struggling. I don't want to hurt you unless I have to, and I won't have to hurt you if you'll just calm down and listen to me." He leaned in and whispered into my ear, "Shhh, baby, that's right, just calm down and shush for a moment and I'll make the pain go away." And once I stopped struggling, he gently kissed my cheek, and whispered, "That's a good boy, Allen, that's it. You're such a good boy." Antoine and the other guests gradually loosened their grips until there was no pain left, as Antoine had promised. He then turned to Manuel and Louis and told them to get the first slam ready. "We wanted to ease you in at first, baby, but since you've been acting like such a bitch tonight, we have no other choice but to start you off with a slam," he told me as Omar tightened a leather strap around my arm. "It's going to be a bit intense at first, baby, and you'll probably have trouble breathing for a couple seconds until you start coughing. But then you'll feel the most intense rush you've ever felt in your entire life, and everything we do to you will start feeling so good, baby, you won't ever want us to stop!" "Now close your eyes for me, baby, for just five seconds," he said, gently biting my neck at the same time I felt a small pinch in my arm. "Now count to five with me... one... two... three... four..." Before we got to five, however, I felt Omar loosening the leather strap around my arm, and I suddenly understood why people call it slamming. As Antoine had predicted, after a few seconds of feelings like I couldn't breathe, followed by a short coughing fit, wave after wave of searing hot pleasure, unlike anything I'd ever felt before, slammed into me like a ton of bricks and started radiating through my body, and the room around me felt brighter, as if my brain had abruptly reset my eyes' brightness level to maximum. And then, just as quickly, my senses start coming back down to earth. The waves of pleasure and joy were replaced by a ravenous, insatiable hunger for sex--I suddenly found myself wanting a never-ending stream of humongous horse cocks shoved up my ass and crammed down my throat, unleashing rivers of ni#%a cum into every orifice of my body. I started jacking off with my right hand, then spread my legs and raised my knees so my left hand could reach my asshole. "Oh god, fuck me, Antoine!" I gasped, desperately finger-fucking my pussy, "please, please fuck me! Fuck me over and over again; and pass my nasty used cunt around!" "Yeah, baby?" Antoine teased, "you wanna get raped, is that it? You want your sweet little boypussy gangraped by ni#$a cocks?" He swatted my fingers out of my asshole and shoved his entire 12-inch cock up my chute in one monstrous stroke. I screamed out in pain, but Antoine just covered my mouth with his mitt-sized hands and shouted, "Shut the fuck up, you filthy little whore! This is what you were begging for, so this is what you're going to get!" --- To be continued ---