Search the Community
Showing results for tags 'supernatural'.
Found 2 results
-
Part 1: The Legend An old Scottish legend, echoed in the mythologies of several other proud and ancient lands, tells of a woman who is enticed away from home,husband, family, and everything of value to her by a demon who appears to her, taking the form of her dead sailor lover. Hamish McAlpine read the description in a respected online reference source and snorted indignantly. It was so completely wrong, on so many levels, that he couldn’t believe they’d actually had the nerve to publish such trash. For starters, he wasn’t a demon. Not even close. He was immortal, true, but that wasn’t how he’d been born, nor was it by his own choice. Some people might think he’d enticed Alan, although he could have sworn it was totally 50-50 -- so who enticed whom? He had certainly not appeared as a dead sailor – what a ridiculous notion! Hamish could and did get seasick crossing a river. In fact, he had absolutely no power to shift his shape. All he could do was change his clothes and his hairstyle. He’d appeared as he always did – as himself, forever aged 32 “and a bit.” Most outrageous of all, the supposed “victim” wasn’t even a woman. Alan was a man – all man, the most sexy and magnetic man Hamish had ever met in his 988 years of life. And it wasn’t as if Hamish had ever lacked for interested men. He’d planted multiple loads of his immortal seed deep in the tight assholes of more than a few kings, ranging from Richard the Lionheart to Frederick the Great, with a little fling with James VI of Scotland thrown in along the way. He’d fucked, or been fucked by, dozens of men named in the history books, from the great through the not-so-great and all the way to the downright-dirty ones, down through the centuries. There’d also been a few missteps, a few intimate exchanges which ended badly with the party of the second part swearing vengeance, and demanding satisfaction. The results in these duels were predictable: Hamish would let himself be killed, then he would promptly resurrect, and the other man would either run screaming in terror or just blink and berate himself that his aim was so far off. Hamish had been immortal for so long that he scarcely recalled what his life had been like before it got extended indefinitely. He had vague memories of living in the servants’ quarters of a Scottish baronial castle, of acting as a footman, opening doors, bowing, delivering food from the kitchens to the Great Hall. His memory was a bit better when it came to his spare-time activities. Start with Neil, an apprentice armourer. Hamish had walked into the armoury one rainy afternoon, expecting to pick up a spear that was being rebalanced for the Baron. Instead, he found Neil bent over with the blacksmith’s spear embedded in his rear gate. Hamish had gotten down on his knees to suck on Neil’s cock, and soon pulled the sperm up and out as the blacksmith filled the young guy’s ass with his load. The blacksmith pulled out and went back to his forge but Hamish stayed when Neil invited him to fuck him some more. Hamish had driven his cock right into Neil’s butt, still full of the blacksmith’s seed, and the sensation soon drew his own cum up and out, filling Neil up to the point where the combined loads of sperm gushed and squirted out as Hamish kept pounding into his hole. But Neil was by this time getting hard again, and he pulled away, turned around, bent Hamish over, stripped away his clothes, and swiped a handful of the cum from his ass as lube. This was Hamish’s first time getting fucked, and it hurt like hell. He could hear the blacksmith laughing in the distance as the cries of pain were ripped out of Hamish’s throat. But the cries slowly evolved into moans of satisfaction as it became apparent that, in this area at least, the apprentice had definitely mastered some skills. Neil proved to be a first-rate top as well as a pliant bottom, and that combination of gifts kept both of them happy for the next year or so. But then Neil left, to take up a position as blacksmith and master armourer at another castle. More memorable still was Ian, fellow footman with a slim, firm body, blazing red hair, and an equally roving eye. It didn’t take any time at all, after Ian was recruited onto the castle staff, for Hamish to recruit Ian for after-hours extra work. Ian was the kind of man who would bend over any time for any man who asked and Hamish asked – early and often. They started with quickies snatched on the fly in the storage cellars, on the back stairway, or after hours in the kitchen. Hamish would walk up behind Ian, rub his hand across the seat of Ian’s breeches, and the younger man would turn to putty. Hamish would yank Ian’s breeches down, bend him over, release his own hard cock from his clothes, and proceed to plow that lovely Scottish ass with its light coat of flaming red hair. Even after Hamish had fucked him dozens of times, Ian’s hole remained delightfully tight, and it took very little time – sometimes as little as two minutes – before the tightness, and Ian’s quiet moans, pulled Hamish right up to the brink. Then he would pound ass, as fast as he could go, until his cum exploded in a frantic burst of energy inside Ian’s hole. Later on, Hamish reached a senior footman position and got a room of his own. It was cold, drafty, and dark, and the straw pallet was all he had in the way of a bed but still… it was private. Ian and Hamish enjoyed many hours of their off time, romping on that pallet. It gave them much more latitude to explore a whole variety of positions for sex. Since Ian’s cock was both shapely and not too thick, Hamish always enjoyed sucking him off. Ian particularly like the nights when Hamish would take him through their entire repertoire of positions, fucking him up, down, and sideways for several hours and planting several loads of seed deep in the redhead’s ass. In time, Hamish got hold of a bigger pallet and they were actually able to sleep together. Ian just loved cuddling up to Hamish after a good, hard fucking, and falling asleep with Hamish’s arms wrapped around him. There was no real love on Hamish’s side of the relationship. To him, Ian was a damn good fuck with a firm body who was always ready, able, and willing – but that was it. Ian understood that, and didn’t resent it, being grateful to always have hot sex there whenever he wanted it (and that was often). Life got a bit more tiring when the Baron’s second son, Robert, took to summoning Hamish in the evenings to help him relax for sleep. That started after Robert caught Hamish and Ian one night, enjoying a quickie for old times’ sake on the back stairs. Robert’s favourite form of relaxation was to slide his far-from-tiny cock deep inside Hamish’s firm ass when Hamish was on his hands and knees on the bed. Robert would then drive inside that hole deep and hard, sometimes keeping going for as long as an hour, and cumming inside Hamish as many as three times in a single extended fuck. He also demanded that Hamish prove his “loyalty” by cumming too. Robert was far too fastidious and dignified to let the lowly Hamish fuck him or suck him, or even shoot on him, so Hamish had to make do with his hand, with his back turned to Robert (who was actually quite a pleasant sight when undressed), and with Robert’s cock slamming into him at top speed. It all made for exhausting sex as well as a fierce ache in the nether regions, and left Hamish sometimes too tired to do the honours for Ian. Life underwent a dramatic change when the Baron decided to revive his struggling treasury by selling the services of his “private army,” as he called it, to the English King, Harold Godwinson, for a generous fee. The “army” actually consisted of a ragtag group of peasants and shepherds, “organized” (to use a slightly misleading term) under the direction of the castle’s senior servants. The Baron and his sons were nowhere to be seen – sensibly, as things turned out. During the trip south to England, Ian died in a bizarre freak accident. He lost his balance while fording a river, cracked his head wide open on a rock, and that was that. Hamish didn’t mourn overmuch. It wasn’t as if he had fallen in love with Ian, so what he mainly was conscious of was that he’d lost his favourite outlet for his most significant talent. In any event, this journey ended when they joined up with the English army at the beginning of October 1066. The King and his forces were marching to meet the invasion of Duke William of Normandy. The clash was due to happen near Hastings. William, of course, was destined to win immortality and a throne by winning the battle, which altered the entire course of English history. Hamish, though, was destined to win immortality of another kind altogether. That was the one part of his story that was due to demonic interference. One of the Norman knights lined up to participate in the invasion of England had fallen prey to his fears the night before the Norman army sailed for England. He’d called on a local sorcerer who had conducted a black mass to lay a spell of invulnerability and invincibility upon his sword. It had worked – in the sense that the dark power had undoubtedly invaded and possessed the blade. The unforeseen consequence was that the power of the sorcerer’s black arts leaped into the 32-year old Hamish when the knight stabbed him to the heart, as the Scottish mercenary defended the English right flank. Hamish died – but then promptly resurrected in immortal form. Meanwhile, the unfortunate knight got killed seconds later by one of the English knights. The real pity of it all was that he was a definite looker, as Hamish saw when the dead man’s armour was removed. He’d have been happy to have enjoyed a week or three – or more -- of mutual fucking with a man as well-built and well-hung as that one. Oh, the ironies of fate. Hamish got more out of the knight’s meddling with the black mass than just immortality. He also got sent back to earthly life in perfected form. His face, formerly pleasant enough, became devastatingly handsome. His shoulders broadened; his waist tightened. His originally short cock lengthened to a seriously challenging, eight-inch-long, uncommonly thick, weapon of choice for his favourite kind of duelling. Add on a newfound, intimidating level of bedroom stamina and Hamish McAlpine had become a major challenge for all of the man-loving men who would cross his path for the next millennium or so.
-
The profile photo of Domin8tor wasn’t something I’d normally click on - no head. But the body was beefy - the barrel chested kind, thick with muscles but also looked like he enjoyed a lot of burger and beers. His likes were sparse and to the point: rough sex, fucking, breeding. Leather. Beer. I checked my messages and — not unexpectedly — his was direct and to the point: “Wanna fuck” He didn’t even include the “?” At the end I tapped in my reply: “Possibly. What are you looking for? Now?” It was 3 in the afternoon, on a Friday afternoon, and I still had a few more hours of work left. “Yeah. Now. Need a hole to drop my seed into.” “Sorry. Can’t now but could do later.” He replied with a pic. It looked like something someone took from Folsom: shirtless and in leather chaps, massive cock swinging free between his legs. He looked like in his 40s or 50s, but fit. His face was broad, head shaved, sunglasses on. His thin lips curled into a snarl-smile, mischievous and menace. Dark swirling tattoos covered his forearms and I could see a bit peeking over on his shoulders from his back. Muscles rippled through in almost comic-book proportions: biceps almost as thick as his head; pecs covered in sweaty dark fur, beads of water on the nipples. “Probably steroids” I thought. I glanced down at his balls, the tell-tale sign but they seemed larger than normal, hanging low. I replied in the chat: “How about 5pm?” No reply. I figured he found some other hole. I turned off my phone and went back to work. A little while later, my phone buzzed again. Checked it and there was a message from him. “Yeah. Address” I typed in my address and took a break from work to do a thorough prep and then tried to focus on work for the remainder of the day. Which was tricky - I put on a leather jockstrap and shorts to get myself in the mood. 5pm came… and went. I hopped online and he wasn’t online anymore - again, I figured he found someone else and didn’t bother to cancel. I opened a can of beer and started browsing other guys - after prepping, I didn’t want to let my ass go to waste. I was chatting with some twunk when my buzzer rang. It was almost 6pm. I pushed on the talk button and asked who it was. A gruff one word reply. “Dom”. Slightly annoyed, I replied “Third floor on the right” and buzzed him up. A heavy knock on door. I opened and was pleasantly surprised - he looked more or less like that picture. Shorter than I was expecting but the muscles were pretty much popping. He wore a t-shirt, jeans and a dark hoodie. The sunglasses were still on. I asked him if he wanted a beer and he nodded. I went and got him one and he had barely moved from the front door. I handed it to him and he took it with his left hand while reaching out to my shoulder with his right, pushing me down. With a low growl, he said “Suck.” He spoke with a thick accent - Eastern European? I knelt down, and unbuckled his jeans. Unzipping, I could tell he wasn’t wearing any underwear and his cock tumbled forward. It was as advertised: thick and long, fatter just behind the uncut head. I bent forward and started to suck. I had to really open wide in order to get the semi-hard dick in my mouth. I could hear him guzzle his beer above my head as I worked his cock. I started to use my hands, as his cock was long enough that I couldn’t get it all in my mouth. He reached down with his free hand and gently caressed the top of my head and moaned “That’s nice. Make it wet.” I could taste sex on his dick. As I blew him, I could see the matted cum from a previous fuck in his pubes. I swirled my tongue under the foreskin and could taste the ass juice and load from the last guy. He repositioned his hands to the back of my head and I knew where this was going. I tried to pull off before the face fucking could start — there was no way that was going to work well. But I was too slow. With an incredibly firm hold, his hand palmed the back of my head and he pulled my head in. I tried to open my mouth further, but his cock hit the back of my throat. He pulled back and then back in. I did my best to get gulps of air in through my nose but as he sped up and pushed harder, the opportunities became shorter and shorter. I put my hands on his waist and pushed him away, but there was no budging. Cocksucker’s tears were flowing down my face. He chuckled and slowed a little. He pulled back a bit and the air rushed into my lungs through my nose. He looked down at me (still with those fucking glasses and snarky smile) and said “Relax. Just open your throat.” I thought “what the fuck was he thinking I was doing?!” I tried to push again, but it literally felt like I was pushing against a wall - no movement at all. His hand — still on the back of my head — started to pull my head in. “Your choice. You can relax or not, but it’s going in.” I closed my eyes and did my best to relax, expecting it to ram against my tonsils yet again. But somehow his cock had softened a bit, and as he pulled my head in, it turned and went down my throat. There was a second moment of panic, but I tried to relax more and it became easier. He pulled back and then in again. And like the last time, his dick slid down my throat. I tongued the bottom of his shaft and his cock was iron-hard. I didn’t understand but before I could process it, my nose was buried in his pubes. The cum from his previous session smeared across my face. And his cock was down my throat. He held me there and I could feel his cock pulse and throb in my throat. It was a surreal sensation - it was like a hot, pulsing steel rod was down my throat. I felt his head - or I think it was his head - swell /in my throat/ . His hand kept my head there, and to my surprise, I didn’t try to resist. I think I was curious - how was this happening ?! - but also it was hot: I was deepthroating something that should not be able to go down my throat. His dick kept pulsing and I wondered if he had cum but he didn’t seem to make any of the other indications. Slowly, he pulled back and his cock snaked back - and I do mean /snaked/. It felt like somehow it could fully move, like a python in my mouth. He pulled the last bit from my drooling lips and then I could taste it. It was bitter and salty - kind of like cum, but something that also tasted like brackish saltwater. So maybe he did cum? The taste clung to my mouth - in that terrible way if you get a mouthful of antiperspirant. He tilted my face — tears down my cheeks, used cum on my face, and drool down my chin — towards his, and he growled, “Good boy.” He spun me around and shoved the back of my head hard, so I fell forward catching myself. He knelt down beside me and pulled back from my hips, so that he in a position to fuck me doggy style. He reached down my shorts, and roughly fingered my hole. With a surprising strength, he grabbed the sides of my shorts and with surprising strength ripped them apart exposing my bare ass, framed by the jockstrap lines. “Ah yeah, you were fucking ready for this” he snarled and then I felt his face back in my crack. His stubble rubbed the side of my cheeks, and I could feel his tongue inside my hole. It was pushed my hole open, and even if I didn’t want it (which I did!), I wouldn’t have a choice. He continued to grind his beard into my ass, as if he were trying to literally push me along with his jaw. And his tongue kept going deeper. And deeper. And he kept swirling it around, as if he were licking the inside of a bowl, but somehow in the inverse. He came up for air and then I felt it. His hard cock against my hole, first running up along it, picking up some of his spit and then with one move, shoved it in my hole. Time stopped. It hurt so much. My vision went white with pain. It came back. I came back to my body. And he was inside me. Fully. With one shove - or I blacked out - he was balls deep in me. Instinctively I tried to pull forward. But he held onto my hips and there was no give. None. “Uh uh uh - you are staying there until I’m done with you.” And with that, he fucked me. Hard. Each thrust all the way, each thrust seemingly a little deeper. It hurt so bad - I couldn’t help think of my insides being wrecked. I don’t think I have ever been fucked this deep - well, well past that second ring. And it kept doing. harder. And harder. I kept trying to squirm away, but there was literally nothing I could do other than make bigger bruises on my hips where he held on. Any more struggling and I would just be digging into his hands. At one point, he leaned forward on top of me. He was so heavy. Like 400 lbs heavy. He was shorter than I was, and when he pressed down, his body completely pinned mine to the ground. He slowly pulled out, about half way and then slid all the way back in. He paused inside me. “Milk it” he snarled. I was stunned. I just lay there. “Milk it” he repeated. And then he smacked the back of my head, and instinctively my ass clenched. “There we go.” And I started to squeeze and milk it. And it felt good. Really good. I could tell - my cock throbbed in my jockstrap. I know that sounds dumb, but honestly, my cock told me that it felt good. And once I ‘noticed’ then I really got into milking his cock. And he started to fuck me again, again with the snake. I felt it knew how to turn and go deeper. And deeper He got up a bit and pressed down on my shoulders with his hands, pinning me to the ground, with my ass up in the air. He went back to fucking me hard and fast. I just relaxed and let my hole loosen up. “Ah that’s good, my boy. Open up and let me in.” And I did. I just relaxed and he fucked me deep. Oh so deep. My ass was slick with the same slime that was down my throat. His cock made thwash sound as it churned up the slime. It felt so fucking good. I moaned and squeezed my hole in appreciation. He lifted off my shoulders for a brief moment to separate out my cheeks so he could get /that much deeper/ then put his hands on my shoulders. I turned around to look at him. He had taken off his shirt at some point and was dripping sweat. His skin was red, like the blood was just under the skin. His muscles and veins popped and throbbed. His face was a mask of angry hunger - as if ever thrust was another bite he was taking. His sunglasses were off and his eyes were black, except where the pupil’s were, which I saw occasional glints of reddish light. Kind of like when you flash a light into an animal’s eyes in darkness. His hands dug into my shoulders and the pain was sharp. His nails were clawing back towards him, so he could get as deep as he possibly could. And then he paused and let out a low groan-howl. I felt his cock start to twitch. And swell. My hole expanded even further - it was easily bigger than a can of coke at this point. I could feel him coming but it felt different - instead of the jerk-twitch-squirt that most cocks do, this was a pulse-wave-shove of cum. As he pushed himself in as far as he could, he grunted through gritted teeth “yeah…. yeah..…” I could feel it filling up my guts, as if there was a tap running. He kept cumming, depositing his seed deep inside me, for seeming minutes. Slowly he pulled out but kept coming, the same pulse-wave feeling. Finally he pulled out, and spun me around to face his cock. And I understood why now it felt that way. His cock continued to shudder and push out cum and cum was really thick, almost solid, a golf-ball size blob-ball of cum. I watched his cock push another one out, and the cock slit, widened to let this cum ball out. He shoved my face down to clean it off. I did as I was instructed and opened up. Even in my stupor, I knew it wouldn’t fit, but somehow, improbably, it did. It filled my entire mouth, and filled my throat. And it twitched and I felt the cumball push its way down his cock and directly down my throat. While that happened, I instinctively fingered my gaping hole and felt his cum inside. And my ass was full of these balls. I clenched my ass, keeping them inside and started to jerk off. I started to actively swallow now, welcoming them into me. I heard him above me say “Yes. Open up and let me in.” I could smell my ass, his cum and all the other guys now that my nose was shoved up into his pubes. I knew I was just another receptacle for him. One of many. And I liked it. I just relaxed. Both ends letting his cock travel down my throat and my ass. I could feel some of the cumballs plop onto the floor. But I didn’t care. I was open for him. Open. Open. And then I came. My ass clenched. And I just saw emptiness. I blinked to make sure they were open. But I just saw emptiness. It was different than blackness - I could tell that there was space in front of me, but it was just /empty/. I came back to my body. There was a wave of pleasure so strong that it hurt. My body wracked with spasms, the orgasm convulsing every cell of my body. I don’t remember how but when I regained my senses, his cock was out of my mouth. I looked around and he was buttoning the last button on his jeans. He bent over and picked up his shirt. Wordless, he just smirked at me. I was dumbstruck, kneeling on the ground a puddle of my cum in front of me. Pulling his shirt down, he motioned with his jaw towards the ground and said “They don’t last long outside a body.” I glanced down to see the cumballs - yes they were real - melt and spread out into murky jelly. He and put back on his sunglasses, covering his black, flashing eyes. “Take care of them,” he said. He turned and walked out the door. I hadn’t moved or said anything. I slowly stood up, my body starting to ache. I staggered to the bathroom, cum dripping down the inside of my left thigh. In the bathroom, I saw that my face was raw from being ground on the floor. There were two bruises on my hips. In the shower my hole was tender, but I was expecting far worse. I cleaned up the hallway, and his cum was remarkably sticky, but the smell wasn’t as bad as I was expecting. His cum, more than most, was breaking apart and turning into a thinner liquid. Over the next day, I was expecting an interesting shit ahead. But the cumballs didn’t “come out” - I guess they were absorbed? I checked his profile online but it was deleted. Now it seems surreal so I wonder if I was drugged - I’m writing this down so I remember, as it feels like it might fade away like a dream. So here is the recounting of the time I was bred by… uh, not sure what.
- 5 replies
-
- 37
-
-
-
-
-
- breed
- supernatural
- (and 1 more)
