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PART I In the summer of my senior year in high school, I had just turned 18, I suddenly started looking less like a boy and more like a man. I gained 20 pounds of muscle, jumping two full weight classes on the wrestling team. My chest became muscular and defined almost overnight. My boyish stomach developed into six distinct muscles that flexed and tightened on demand. In addition, my ass wasn’t flat anymore - it was a genuine bubble butt, a jockboy muscle ass. Even my dick seemed to get fatter and longer. Girls started noticing me. And something else started happening, also: when I walked around town, the occasional man would shoot hungry glances at me, devouring me with his eyes. The truth is, I wanted to be devoured, and every night, when I quietly jacked my dick under the covers, I’d think about my wrestling coach, Mr. Pitt. He was in his late 30s, with jet-black hair and dark, playful, wolfish eyes. He always had a thick layer of scruff on his square jaw, and his torso was just fucking perfect: I’d never seen him with his shirt off, but he definitely had a hairy chest, and his hard pecs were always visible under his tight-fitting polo shirt. From the moment I met the guy, I jacked off almost every night wondering what his cock looked like, imagining what it would be like to touch that chest, that hair, those nips. The assistant wrestling coach, Mr. Strickland, was every bit as hot. A former college wrestler now in his mid-20s, he was a dirty-blond, green-eyed Midwestern jock dude with a massive bulge in his crotch. One time I happened to see him playing basketball shirtless, and I just stopped and stared: his schlong bounced up and down in his loose gym shorts, and his muscled chest was covered with a sexy layer of dark-blond fur. Coach Pitt and Coach Strickland—the brown-haired dude and the blond guy. They were like the Hardy Boys, all grown up, strutting around the halls of our high school with their dress pants stretched tight around their cocks. At the beginning of my senior year, Coach Pitt started paying a lot more attention to me. He made me team captain. He and I would often demonstrate wrestling moves together, and sometimes his hand would linger on my ass after he’d pinned me to the mat. And like all team captains at our school, I was responsible for helping him clean up the equipment after practice - which meant that I got to the locker room 30 minutes late every night, after all my teammates were gone. Then I’d shower by myself, get dressed, and head home. But something funny happened about a week before Christmas: after my shower, I was toweling off in front of my locker, bending over the bench to grab my briefs. And I swear I felt someone staring at me. I turned back toward Coach Pitt’s office, but he was concentrating on some paperwork at his desk. I began slipping my briefs up my calves and thighs, snapping the elastic around my butt, and again I sensed someone was watching - but when I looked up, Coach Pitt wasn’t looking at all. I figured my mind was just playing tricks on me. The next night was even weirder. After I got dressed, I walked past Coach Pitt’s office. His office was composed of two rooms: the front room facing the lockers, and a back room suited for physical therapy and private meetings. The door to the backroom was just barely open, and through the crack I could see Coach watching something on a computer. His back was turned to me, but as I looked closer, I could see that it was porn. And not just any porn - it was gay porn. From what I could tell, Coach Pitt had both of his hands on his cock, jacking like crazy to a scene where some dude was pounding a tight muscle hole. But then he suddenly froze in place, as if he could sense me watching. He tilted his head to the side, listening. And before he could turn around, I ducked out of the locker room and into the night. The next day was the last day of school before Christmas break. As I showered up, Coach Pitt poked his head into the shower room. “Hey, buddy,” he said. I looked over at him. He was only wearing a towel loosely draped around his hips. I stared at his perfect hairy chest, his taut abs, the dense thicket of hair just above his cock bulge. His body was even hotter than I’d imagined in all my jack-off fantasies. A few moments passed before I realized that I was staring. Startled, I looked toward the wall. “Didn’t mean to scare you, Lance,” Coach said, cracking a devilish grin. “Do you mind if I shower in here? The shower in my office is on the fritz.” I shrugged, trying not to reveal my excitement. “Cool,” I managed to croak. He swaggered to the opposite wall and turned on a showerhead. Meanwhile, my cock, no longer a boy’s little dick, but a man’s cock, fat and veiny, began to throb and grow. Then I heard his voice “You’re looking really great these days, Lance.” I turned around to look at him, and saw something I hadn’t even dared to see in my dreams. Coach Pitt stood under a full stream of water, his eyes closed, his face turned upward into the shower, shampoo streaming down his torso, down his abs. As my eyes descended down his body along with the water and the suds, I saw that everything was cascading around his giant cock. He was completely hard. His beautiful dick extended a full nine inches from his abs - a man’s cock, that made me feel like a boy all over again. Panicked, I turned back to stare at the wall. My dick was also now totally hard. I wasn’t sure what to do. Then Coach Pitt spoke. “Hey, Lance? Everything okay?” After a moment’s hesitation, I rotated my torso to face him, trying to hide my giant boner. He was still standing underneath the water, but now his legs were shoulder-width apart, his hands tweaking his nips, his hard cock visibly twitching. And there was a big ol’ grin on his handsome, scruffy face. I stared openly. I didn’t want to say anything. If this was a dream, I didn’t want to wake myself up. “You have the cutest fuckin’ butt, dude,” he said, reaching down to yank on his dick. “I’ve jacked my cock so many times thinking about your little jock ass.” He paused, then smiled. “You like my dick, huh? I knew you were a little cockhound the moment I saw you at your first practice back in freshman year.” I kept staring. He let out a low chuckle, then gripped his cock with his hand, the muscles in his forearm tensing as he began jerking off in front of me. “You wanna touch my dick, Lance?” he asked. “It’s cool, buddy. Just say it. You wanna touch Coach’s cock, huh?” I nodded. “What was that, boy?” “Yes, Coach, I want to touch your dick.” His smile got even bigger. “Good boy,” he said. “You smoke weed?” “Yes, Coach.” “C’mon, then,” he said. “Let’s go to my office. Hang out. Have a little fun. Cool?” “Yeah, OK,” I said, my body shaking with excitement. I followed him through the front office and into the back office. He closed and locked the door, then turned to face me. He brushed his hand against my chest, then reached around to the small of my back, drawing me closer to him. I could feel the heat of his breath. “Actually,” he said, “wanna try something even more fun than pot?” “Sure, yeah,” I answered. At that point I would have done anything - absolutely anything - to keep this dream from ending. He walked over to a desk drawer, opened it, and removed a glass pipe. “You’ll like this, buddy,” he said. All I could do was nod. I couldn’t believe I was standing in Coach Pitt’s office, the two of us in nothing but towels. “Here: put it to your mouth. I’ll light it. Wait. Just wait for it. You’ll see a little wisp of smoke coming out of this hole here, and then you start inhaling. Now. Start. Good boy. There you go. Keep inhaling. Good.” I blew out a cloud of white smoke. “Do it again,” he said. I obeyed. And a third time. And a fourth. Then he took the pipe and lit it for himself, blowing the smoke into my mouth, then kissed me, his beard rough against my lips. He growled, asking “How ya doing, buddy?” I wasn’t sure how to answer that. My head was buzzing. My cock was unbelievably hard. And something in my butt - well, it almost ached. Like the beginning of a hunger pang I’d never felt before. Coach Pitt dropped his towel, then removed mine. He stepped closer, rubbed his nips against mine, his cock against my stomach. Then he kissed me as his hands wandered down to my jock butt, each hand on an asscheek, spreading my hole. I arched my back just a little bit, and my ass spread wider. He grinned. “That smoke made your hole hungry, huh?” I nodded, and he laughed again. “I’ve got a confession, boy,” he said. “My office shower’s actually working. I just wanted an excuse to get naked with the hottest little stud on my wrestling team.” He leaned in to kiss me again, and this time I kissed him back, hungrily. He growled as his fingers hovered over my hole. “You ever take a man’s cock in this sweet little cunt?” I shook my head. He pulled me closer, grinding his abs against mine. “You gonna give up your smooth, pink, tight virgin ass to Coach? Let Coach dick you deep, slap his balls against your ass, pound you like the sweet hungry fagboy you are?” “Yes, Coach.” “Yes Coach what?” “Please fuck me, Coach. I want your dick inside me so fucking bad.” “Thatta boy," he said, then paused. He lowered his voice. "You gonna make Coach wear a rubber?” I didn't answer right away. Everyone's supposed to use rubbers, right? But then Coach slipped his hand back around my butt and spread my fuck hole with two fingers. “Your Coach fucks the way men are supposed to fuck. Raw. Natural. I want to feel the skin of my fat cock head splitting your little jock butt wide open. I want to feel the heat and hunger of your virgin hole against my bare dick. And you’ll let me do that, won’t you? Because you’re Coach’s good boy. Right, Lance?” “Yes, Coach. Fuck me the way you want.” “That’s what I like to hear. A true bottom boy surrenders his hole to raw dick. That right?” “Yes, Coach. Fuck me raw.” “And I won’t pull out until I’ve pounded my boy’s hole full of seed.” I don’t know why, but with those words I almost shot my load without even touching myself. Coach saw my eyes get big, and he grinned. “See? You know, and somehow you’ve always known, that a man’s cum is what you need in this sweet little butt. I want to train my boy to spread his boy hole for cock. Beg for seed like a good bottom. The best bottom.” “The best bottom,” I murmured, nodding. “Let’s get you cleaned out, boy. I’ll show you how to get your ass ready for Coach.” With that he took me back to his private shower and pointed to a little red plastic bulb. “This has some liquid in it already,” he said to me. “It’s a homemade recipe to help my boy get ready for dick.” He reached down, spread my pink hole a little bit, and inserted the tip of the douche. Then he gave a hard squeeze. “Clench your butt, Lance. Keep it up in there.” At first I didn’t feel anything, but then my head began to tingle, and my dick twitched, and I felt a warmth and a deep, dark hunger radiating out from my guts. My butt seemed to pulse with a need to be touched, licked, fingered, fucked, filled. Coach Pitt smiled. “You feel that?” I nodded. “That, boy, is what it’s like to douche with your Coach’s slam piss. You don’t know what slam piss is, but you will. Enjoy the ride. Just enjoy it. But keep your hole nice and tight. Nice and tight for Coach. Good boy.” He turned me around, cautioning me “Keep that hole tight,” as he rubbed his cock up against my crack, adding “You’ve got some fur on this hole, boy.” I nodded. Just a few months earlier I’d started to get hair around my ass, and just a little bit on my chest. “Listen,” he said. “I love a furry hole on a man. But a boy like you? A boy getting his cherry popped? That boy needs a smooth fuckin’ pussy. You OK with me shaving your boy hole, Lance?” “Yes, please.” “Yes, please what?” “Yes please, Coach.” While his chem piss continued to radiate waves of pleasure all over my body, Coach smeared shaving cream on my ass. Then I felt the brush of a razor against my hole, and as he shaved me, I swear I could feel every hair surrendering to his blade. “There you go, buddy,” he said, slapping my ass. “Now go release that special brew that Coach squirted up your hole, then come back and I’ll fill you with the rest.” After a second dose of slam piss flooded my guts, Coach handed me the little bulb and told me to finish up. “And then you know what happens?” he asked. I smiled eagerly, responding “You fuck me, Coach?” “Not quite yet. First we’re driving back to my place, and we’re gonna hang out with Coach Strickland. He’s dying to see your boy hole. Would you like that?” “Fuck YEAH.” “Such a good boy. You want both of your coaches to pound you full of their seed, huh?” “Fuck YES. Please, Coach.” He paused. Then he drew me closer to him, kissed me, and brushed his beautiful dick across my abs. I could feel the pulse of his cock, so full of blood. I looked down at his massive, swinging balls, so full of cum. Then I heard his voice again. “I want to hear you say, ‘Please knock me up, Coach.’” “Please knock me up, Coach.” “Good. Now: ‘Wreck my boy hole, Coach. Please.’” “Wreck my boy hole, Coach. Please.” “Good boy. And finally: ‘Make me yours forever.’” “Make me yours forever.” “Very good, boy. Now go clean up. We’re gonna make this the fuck of your life.” MORE SOON...
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This is my first story ever. I hope it turns you all on. It turned me on to write it and I look forward to adding on to it. MAC MEN By Randy Rawman I had been single exactly one month when my Powerbook died. I skipped the Apple store and went to a Mac Dealer in my neighborhood called MacMen. I’ve long thought that the guys at the Genius Bar are the unsung sex symbols of the new millennium, lanky bespectacled nerds with hard lean bodies and sexy tattoos under their royal blue T shirts with just a few clicks of their magic fingers and fix whatever’s ailing you and make everything okay. Yes, Apple geeks are dorky sexy. Angel’s just plain sexy. When I first laid eyes on him, I had come straight from the gym and was wearing my favorite ass-hugging red Umbro shorts and a gray Underarmour tank that caressed my pecs and shoulders and made me feel like a super hero. As Angel entered all my information into the stores computer, I took the opportunity to give him the once over. I couldn’t quite put my finger on his enthicity. There’s some Latin in there, a little Asian, maybe, definitely some black. Whatever it was, he was fucking hot. When I showed pick up my fixed computer a few days later, I was wearing the same shorts with a vintage Adidas nylon tank. Again, I had come fresh from the gym. I stayed extra long because I wanted to get a pump going in case Angel was working. Sure enough, it was him. “Hey Gym boy,” he says, even though I’m probably a few years older than him. “Here’s what we did.” He then proceeds to explain exactly what was wrong with my Mac and what they did to fix it. I could barely focus because his voice was so sexy (Where the fuck is he from?) and also because the way he was leaning on the counter, I can see his denim clad ass in the mirror behind him. While we’re waiting for my credit card to be approved, I consider asking Angel to coffee or something but can’t get up the nerve to say anything. He’s too fucking hot for me anyway. I thank him then head outside to my car. I load my computer into my trunk and when I slam the trunk lid, I see Angel walking toward me with a cocky smile. “Did I forget something?” I ask. “No,” he says. He walks the last few steps to face me before speaking again, this time in a much more hushed tone. “I wanted to catch you because I wanted to invite you to something, a party next month.” What? I was hoping that somehow our paths would cross again, but this I didn’t see coming. “A party?” I repeated. “Like a customer appreciation kind of thing?” Angel laughs. “No, it’s a private party,” he says. I shoot him a confused look. “Look, I fixed your computer,” he says, taking a step toward he and putting his arm on my bare shoulder, his volume lowering to just above a whisper. “I know what kind of dirty stories you read, what blogs you visit, what movies you download.” “I think that’s called invasion of privacy,” I say. “I think we share a common hobby,” he says. I don’t know whether to feel completely violated or totally turned on. “And what’s that?” I ask. He gives my shoulder a squeeze. “Breeding and getting bred,” he says, looking me dead in the eyes. This practically knocks the wind out of me. Just then, a mother walks by with two toddlers, totally unaware that helpful computer dork just called me out on my dirtiest little secret and that we were in the processing of bonding over one common interest; loads in asses. “Look, I gotta get back in there,” he says, handing me a postcard. “If I’m right about what you need, call the number on the bottom of that card.” He’s fucking me with his eyes now. “If I’m wrong, keep living in fantasy land and I’ll see you next time your laptop crashes from all the raw fucking you keep downloading.” It’s not until I get back in my car, that I realize my dick is rock hard and leaking in my shorts. I take a breath and read the postcard. If it was going to be an invitation to some kind of sex party, I expected it to be mysterious and vague. That wasn’t Angel’s style. BREEDHOUSE LA PRESENTS… SHUDDER Join LA’s hottest sex-studs for marathon night of load-swapping sperm-soaked fucking. JULY 24, 2013 THE RULES ARE SIMPLE: NO CONDOMS & NO PULLING OUT. NO LOADS WASTED. IF IT DOESN’T GO UP YOUR ASS, YOU BETTER FUCKING DRINK IT. The artwork is a cartoon of a blond muscle stud being fucked by a darker muscle stud who looks a lot like Angel while a group of other studs watch and wait their turn. Both fuckers are shuddering, heads thrown back in nut-draining ecstasy as the blond begs, “Breed me, fucker. Flood my ass,” and the Latino says simply: “Take. My. Cum. Uuunnnnnnnngh.” In the corner, written in ropy white letters is the artist’s signature; Angel S. Even his signature is made of cum. He’s a man of many talents. Am I brave enough to explore his other ones? It takes me two days to call him. I expect to get voicemail. I don’t. “Hello,” he says. Oh shit, do I hang up or do I talk? “Angel, this is Randy,” I say, my voice quivering. “You fixed my computer.” “I know who you are,” he says. “I was just thinking about your ass in those red shorts and how much I’d like to fill it.” I always thought my ass looked good in those shorts. Nice to have some confirmation. “How many times did you almost call me and then pussy out?” “None,” I lie. “Okay, four.” He scoffs. “Seven,” I say finally. “So I was right about you?” he says cockily. “Yes and no,” I say, fumbling the words as I try to explain myself. “I’m turned on by all that stuff, so turned on I can’t see straight, but in real life, I haven’t really explored that side of myself. Up until a month ago, I was in a monogamous relationship for ten years with a guy who didn’t like fucking. He was just into oral.” “Did Mr. Blowjob know what was on your computer?” he asks. “He didn’t want to know,” I say. “I haven’t been with anyone else in ten years.” “God, I bet you’re so fucking tight,” he says. I don’t know what to say to that. I’m saved from my awkwardness when I hear a doorbell ring on his end of the phone. “Look Randy,” he says, “I want to talk to you more, I really do, but I got a couple from Silverlake coming over here, a blond and a Latino…and the Latino’s going to breed me while I fill the blond with my four-day load. So I can’t talk. Have you thought about the party?” “It’s all I’ve thought about…but I’m not sure—“ “Check your email in tonight,” he says. “I got a proposition for you.” “You need my email address?” “I got it.” “What’s this proposition?” I say. “Just tell me.” The truth is, I just want to keep him on the phone. His voice makes me throb. “I can’t talk now, my buddies just parked…oh shit, they brought the leather, this is going to be so fucking hot, Randy. Fuck.” “Can I watch?” I say, jokingly. Angel laughs. “Hey, wait. Maybe you can,” he says. “You got Skype?” Fifteen minutes later, I’m matching a red-hot threeway unfold somewhere in the Hollywood Hills. Angel hasn’t told other two studs know he’s Skyping, but he’s positioned his computer with a nice view of the room. It’s his bedroom-slash fuck-den, complete with black leather covered bed and mirrors all around, and he’s making sure to be real vocal for me. “That’s it, Oscar,” he says when the Latino in chaps and a harness places his fat cockhead at his hot tight pucker. “Just drive it in. Uuuunnnnngh fuck! Don’t move for a second, let me get used to it.” “Okay, that’s a second,” says Oscar, with an evil smile. “I gotta fuck now.” He starts driving his cock in and out of Angel’s hot hole, withdrawing till just the head is inside and then slamming forward smashing Angel forward causing him to grind his hard cock into the bed. “Let me get on my knees, Oscar,” insists Angel. “This grinding is going to make me shoot and I don’t want to cum on the bed.” “That’s right,” says the blond, Ron, who’s in a leather vest and Nasty Pig jockstrap. “What’s the rule?” All three of them say it at once. “No wasted loads.” Angel looks right into the lens when he says that. And then he laughs. I know what he’s doing. He wants that to be my rule, too. He’s going to insist I live by it, too, or he doesn’t even want to fucking know me. No wasted loads. I can imagine him making me recite a manifesto, something like, “If there’s a cock in the room I’m in that isn’t mine, and it’s shooting a load, it’s going in me. It’s going down my throat or better yet—way better yet—up my hot ass. That’s what I was made for.” “And what else?” I imagine him asking. “And if my cock’s shooting its load, it’s going in an ass or a mouth, even if it has to be my own.” As I daydream about this, I make a promise to myself right then that from now on, even when I jack off, I eat the load. No wasted loads. “Oh fuck, I’m getting close and I don’t want to blast yet,” says Oscar. He pulls his drooling 9-inch breeding stick out of Angel’s ass, flips him around and shoves it down his throat. In the same flurry of moment, Ron, who’s 8 inches with fat mushroom head, goes balls deep into Angel in one smooth stroke. The whole switch happened so fast. There was maybe one split second when Angel when he wasn’t impaled on cock. “Fuck, your cock is amazing, Ron,” says Angel. “I can feel that fat head hitting my prostate.” “I want to drench it,” promises Ron. “But not yet.” When Ron pulls out, Angel’s hot fuckhole catches the light. Angel’s ass is already dripping with pre-cum. “I need your cock up my hole, Angel.” “This cock?” teases Angel, poking the head in and out of Ron’s tight pucker. “Is this the cock you want?” “That’s the one,” says Ron. “This cock with the four-day load in it?” says Angel. Ron throws his head back when he hears that news and groans. “Yes,” he says, like a man possessed. Angel’s rock hard 8-inch fuckstick plunges deep into Ron’s ass and he whimpers with pleasure and moans, “Yes, yes, yes, fuck me. Fuck me so deep. God, I need your cock.” "What else do you need?” asks Angel. “I need your fuckload,” says Ron. “I need you to flood my asshole. I need to you breed me.” “Get ready, fucker,” says Angel. “I’m about to reach the point of no return.” What Angel can’t see because of where he’s positioned, but what I can is Oscar priming his dick to go back in Angel’s hole. And it’s not going to come out until it’s drenched those asswalls with DN fucking A. This man, Angle. This man who looked deep into my harddrive and later my eyes, and could see that I had a need, a deep need, that I didn’t have the balls to explore. He’s going to change that. He’s going to break me in and introduce me to the Breeding Brotherhood and in case I think for one second that he’s all talk when it comes to bareback breeding, he’s going to breed one muscle stud on cam for me too see while another muscle stud coats his ass-walls with his creamy white load. And it’s going to happen right fucking now. “Oh fuck, I’m cumming, Ron,” Angel pants, just as Oscar jabs his shiny hot prick back into Angel’s puckerhole. “Oh fuck, Oscar! I was hoping you’d do that. Damn, that fuckstick is going to fuck the cum out of me and right into this fucker’s ass.” “Then do it, dude,” grunts Oscar. “Because I’m breeding you right…..NOW. Ungh…ungh…ungh…ungh…” Oscar keeps grunting with every jet of stud spunk that jets from his cock. “I can feel every squirt,” gasps Angel. “Damn, you’re still shooting.” “You’re pulling it out of me,” says Oscar. “I need cum!” Ron shouts. “Give me that four day load, Angel!” “You want it?” Angel asks. “I need it,” says Ron. “Here…it…CUMMMMS!” bellows Angel while grabbing Ron’s face and pulling him to be eye to eye. “Aaaah…aaagh…take my…cum….I’m…breeding… your….hot….fucking ….hole.” Angel arches back and is about to collapse on Ron with Oscar coming down on both of them, when suddenly Ron, stroking his hot fuckstick, says, “I’m cumming, too, guys. I wanted to breed but I’m fucking cumming. Who’s gonna drink it?” Angel and Oscar knock heads trying to dive onto Ron’s spurting cock but Angel gets their first. Angel takes jet after jet of thick cum, saying, “Mmmm,” with every spurt. After a bit, he pulls off and lets Oscar take over on Ron’s cum-soaked cock. While Oscar milks the last few drops from Ron’s delicious cockhead, Ron throws his head back, closes his eyes and tries to catch his breath. Since both his fuckbuds have their eyes closes, Angel can get away with looking right into the camera. He stares right into my soul and smiles. He heart, which has already been pounding out of my chest, nearly stops when he opens his mouth. He didn’t swallow yet. He opens wide and shows me the huge load Ron shot into him. He looks back into my eyes, swirls it around in his mouth, then points to me and then to the leather bed as if to say, “You’re next, fucker.” Then he swallows. I cum in my shorts without touching myself. TO BE CONTINUED. .
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Looking back at my initiation to the BAREBACK UNDERGROUND: To be honest, I really just came out as a hardcore barebacker (unrepentant, poz-embracing, anon-crazy, promiscuous) as of 2015 at best. Before that I was just 'flirting with the fantasy' but too timid to go all out! Typically, raw action had been part of my sex-life ,ever since the twink days, but very limited! Much like a clandestine poacher, worried to get caught! In the early stages I put out raw to a few 'daddy-types', although I hate the label. I did it as a bottom, but mostly topping other twinks, thinking I was 'safer' that way... well I was negative but they, I didn't know. Some asked, most just took raw dick; Always typically once the next 'relationship' looked like 'happily-ever-after'! What BS that was! Bareback sports like the big boys play in West Hollywood and Atlanta was a forbidden fruit, a dangerous pleasure, a pursuit causing fear, guilt, and regret. But then events sped up! BAMM! Not just my man, but me too found out we had 'converted'. He was the 'Troyan Whore', and we were now part of the once 'feared fraternity'. Not that I embraced it right away, hell no! Clammed up for years. Then events sped up with my man secretly searching for sex and random players on the WILD SIDE on-line. It was 2015 and him getting caught by me and us agreeing 'Let's BOTH go for it! RAW, no rubbers EVER, no shame, no guilt, no jealousies!' So sometime in May of that year, a dude who bred me (with his hubby and mine in a 4-some) and travels the country breeding and seeding, kinky as hell told me about this site. He said: "The stories are HOT, and you don't have to join to read them!" something like that. But I wanted to join, see what it is all about, and 'compete' in the raw sports and see how I stack up. Take every cock or jump in when the opportunity is right! With a RAW, bulging, precum-dripping cock-head into every jaded man-cunt, balls-deep, and not look back... but late than never!
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It was Thanksgiving and I had four empty days in LA to spend. A bad break up (though kind of my fault because I cheated on him many many times) resulted in me looking for a new place, but nothing was going to happen over Thanksgiving anyway and my family is based in Europe and hence couldn’t care less about turkeys.. So I hired a car and drove out to sin city. I found a cheap deal at the Venetian and was amazed at how big the rooms were. My plan was to gamble a little, get hammered on booze and maybe have a fuck or two and suck some cocks. Hence grindr was running and I pretty much messaged everyone close by. It was not as exciting as LA but some good hunks where there. One profile (38, 6’1, dark hair, musk, 9”) caught my attention. He called himself the “recruiter”. He said, he arrived with a couple of buddies, was staying at the Palazzo and they were looking for a new recruit to the bareback brotherhood. I have heard of the bbbh but thought it was more like an online club. It sounded intriguing. So I replied that I was interested and was keen to find out what it would involve. He said, I would get converted and marked and it would be a life changing experience. It was impossible to leave the brotherhood, but that being part of the brotherhood would mean endless piggy sex. “Sounds hot. Would love to hear more. Interested in catching up for a beer?” I wrote back. We met ten minutes later in the sports bar. I was wearing Jeans, shirt and hoodie while he appeared in leather pants, boots and shirt. Fuck that was hot. He grinned. “Hey boy!” “Hey Daddy!” “So boy, if you are up for it, a couple of things, you will be our boy for tonight and then an active member of the bbbh. You will pledge to never use a condom again and will take every cock that is offered to you. Your contract will be a tattoo on your left shoulder so that every member can see that you have taken the pledge and can use your holes for his cock. Should you ever top another member, you just like all other members commit to dumping a load into the bottoms hole. A bbbh fuck is only over after you left your gift behind. Understood?” I was completely taken aback but also horny as hell. Fuck, that sounds hot, I thought. My dick took over the thinking and even though my brain kept shouting to leave now, I followed him back to his room. Deep inside of me, I felt that I needed this. That I belonged to the brotherhood... When we got to his room, I saw four other guys, all in leather sitting around, smoking, drinking and wanking. Most were wearing chaps and all in their mid 30s. Me, with my 25 years, 5’8 was truly the boy in the room. “My a present our new recruit Steve! Soon to be class of 2013!” They all got up and applauded. I noticed that all of them were inked. Some more than others, but all had a biohazard tattoo either on their left shoulder or their right chest with a year underneath it. The guy who picked me up, took off his shirt and I saw his said 1999 and was on the chest. I asked how it got it, and he just grinned and said, “not as easy as it will be for you.” They told me to strip off and inspected me. The two youngest (class of 2010 and 2013) took me to the bathroom where my body and head was completely shaven. I was shaking as I began to grasp the impact this Thanksgiving was going to have on my life. Class of 2013 smiled at me, kissed me and whispered “you will love it”. Class of 2010 asked, “are you more of a red or yellow bottom?” I was confused. So he put his cock in my mouth while Class of 2013 was fingering my hole. “Tight” Class of 2013 announced. Class of 2010 started pissing. I was shocked as I never tried before but tried to be a good bottom and do what you have to do if a cock puts liquid in your mouth and swallowed. I loved it. “Yellow!” Class of 2010 announced, disappeared and returned with a yellow nasty pig jock. They then took me back to the rest of the group and declared me ready for the introduction. To be continued....- 8 replies
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