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Pimped Out As A Whore for Poz


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As I wait for my next 'client', I think about how I ended up here: waiting on a bed in a 20 dollar hotel for whatever guy to whom he’s sold my cunt. I can see his sadistic grin in my head when he told me “Tomorrow’s client is a gonna be a doozy. Get some rest.” I guess you could say that this is all my fault. If I just hadn’t been so uppity. I guess I should go back to the first time.

I had just turned 18, just graduated high school. I’m a blue-eyed, brown haired jock with a baseball player’s body that is naturally smooth. About 5’10” and 160 pounds of shredded muscle, thick legs, meaty pecs and arms, and an eight pack. I had been hitting the gym since middle school and still do because I really like sports. I was really excited about going to college in the fall; the only downside being that I would be away from my girlfriend. My girlfriend was hot! Captain of the cheerleading squad, tiny little waist, and 36Cs - just perfect. Anyway, I had lived with my Dad since I was about 8. My mom and he divorced and she had issues, so my Dad got me. We had always gotten along until my senior year in high school. We always fought about one thing or the other, and there was also something odd in his attitude toward me. I couldn’t figure it out. Well, until that day. My Dad and I had just had a fight a week earlier where I went off on this whole tirade about how I was 18 now and I was a man and he needed to treat as such. We went round and round, but I always came back to that same phrase – “I’m a man now! Just like you!” Boy, I wish I hadn’t said that.

Well, the next Saturday, my Dad asked me if I would drop off a letter and duffel bag to one of his friends on my way to the gym. “All you have to do is take this over to his house, and he’ll give you something in return to bring back,” my Dad said. I told him I would, and as he handed me the duffel bag and letter, he had the sadistic grin I’ve learned to distrust, and he said, “Thanks, son, I really appreciate it.” I had no idea what I was heading into as I found the address on the envelop and typed it into my iPhone. Dressed in gym shorts and a tank top, I headed out the door and drove to my Dad's friend's house, which I found easily enough. Grabbing the duffel bag, I headed up to the door, rang the bell and a guy about my Dad’s age answered the door a few seconds later. He was about 6’ tall, salt and pepper hair, and green eyes. He was thick - not fat, but definitely not skinny, and not a muscle guy. Just thick and masculine. He wore some sweat pants and a sleeveless shirt that hung open, showing his hairy torso. He had clearly been doing some lawn work.

I introduced myself saying “Hi, I’m Gary’s son. He told me to drop this off to you, and that you would have something for me.” The guy looked somewhat puzzled, repeating my line "“He said I would have something for you?” With that, he accepted the duffel bag and envelope, and opened up the letter and began scanning it, saying at the same time, “He told me he was sending you over to drop off some money he owed me, but he didn’t say anything about a—“ He abruptly stopped talking, clearly taken off guard by something he read in the letter. I just stood in the doorway and watched him, not exactly sure what was going on. He went over to the duffel bag that he had left on the counter and unzipped it, looked inside, and then looked back at me with a grin not unlike my father’s.

He kind of sauntered over to me, nodding his head, and sizing me up. He clicked his tongue a few times as he closed the door behind me. I looked up at him, “Is everything alright? I need to get to the gym. You have something for my Dad or what?” “You’re not going to the gym today.” “What do you mean? Yes, I am!” I snapped back. “Do me a favor,” he baited. “Go look in that duffel bag.” I was confused, but wanted to put an end to this cryptic behavior. I walked over to the duffel bag, putting my Dad’s friend between myself and the door. I lifted the flap and almost pissed myself when I saw a bunch of sex toys of varying sizes and shapes. I was so stunned that I didn’t even notice my father’s buddy had come up behind me. His beefy arms hugged me forcefully from behind and I felt his scruff run like sandpaper over my ear as he whispered, “Those are going inside of you, boy.”

Within one or two seconds of struggling, I knew that this guy had easily overpowered me, and so all I could muster was, “What the fuck are you talking about?” “I’m talking about you being my cock socket for the afternoon,” he said and then licked up the side of my neck. It disgusted me, but it felt good, and I was even more confused. “Your Dad owes me money, and he’s paying with your holes.” And with that, one of his calloused hands went under my tank top and took my right nipple between its index finger and thumb and began rolling it around. I had never had my nips played with like that before, and I was overwhelmed by how good it felt. My cock started to stir, and I didn’t know what to do. “Just like a bitch to like her nips pinched,” he said and he tossed me toward the back of the couch. “Dude, I don’t know what’s going on, but I can’t do this, I’m straight,” I pleaded, perhaps just to remind myself. “Somehow, I doubt that,” he laughed. I started to get pissed, “I have a girlfriend!” “Oh, I’ve heard about your girlfriend, and that doesn’t prove shit. Listen, I’m owed a debt and I plan on collecting.” “Listen, if my Dad owes you money, he’ll pay you. This is just a misunderstanding, you don’t have to take it out on me.”

The guy just laughed at me as he approached me with the letter that I had brought over. “There’s no misunderstanding. I’m not taking anything out on you. This is your father’s idea.” I couldn’t believe what he said. “You’re lying! My father would never do that!” “Oh really?” He grabbed me hard, tossing the letter on the couch. There was nothing he would do to me that I could fight. He was just too big, too aggressive, too manly.

He spun me around, locking one hand around my throat and thrusting the other hand down the back of my shorts. He was obviously pleased that I was wearing a jock strap (I WAS planning on going to the gym), and explored my hairless cheeks and hole, not pushing in yet. Once again, my dick jumped. Without warning he forcefully bent me over the back of the couch so my face was in the cushions and pulled my shorts down to my ankles. “Read the fucking letter bitch boy while I eat your cunt.” And with that, he cupped a butt cheek in each of his hands, spreading my ass, and for the first time (but not the last) I felt a mouth lick, suck, and slurp at my smooth pink asshole. I had to get my bearings before I could read the letter. I mean, all these feelings were washing over my body.

His mouth felt sensational but I was repulsed by the thought of being with another man, but it felt like the natural order of things to be submitting to this bigger, more manly guy. His tongue plunged into my ass and at first, my pucker would tighten around his tongue, not use to this slimy invasion. But soon, I was pushing out, trying to wrap more of my insides around his talented tongue. All of a sudden, he spit on my right ass cheek, rubbed it around, and open palm smacked my ass, “I said read the fucking letter, faggot!” Fuck, my ass stung! I howled out and whimpered, but what started as a stirring with my nipples getting tweaked turned instantly into a full-fledged boner. I forced myself to focus on the letter in front of my face. It read:

Hey Buddy,

I know I owe you $20 from that pool game the other night, but frankly, I just don’t feel like paying it. But I do want to make good on my debt so I’m giving you my son for the afternoon. I know how you lean, and I want you to teach him a lesson. He’s gotten pretty fucking lippy with me going on and on about how he’s a man now and wants to be treated like such. He’s a little priss-ass queer and you’re the guy to treat him the way a little faggot boy needs to be treated. Put him in his place. You can start by letting him read this letter…it’s time he learn some things.

First of all, I want you to use the toys in this gym bag on him. I want his hole stretched and stretched good. I have more plans for using this little bitch. Feel free to spit on him, slap him, piss on him or in him, humiliate him…and yes, fuck him anyway you want. Fuck him raw and send him home with at least one big load of cum in him. I’m aware of what that means, and yes, I’m sure. Make sure he keeps it in his ass because when he gets home, I’m going to scoop it out and feed it to him. He can consider that the final exam to this lesson.

Make sure you keep him there until at least 5 since I’ll be fucking his girlfriend at our house until about 4:30. She’s a hot piece of ass, and I’ve been fucking her for almost a year now. That’s how I found out what a little pencil-dicked bitch he is. I felt guilty when I started fucking her a year ago until I found out what a lame fuck my son was. He’s never once gotten her off and he won’t even eat her out. That reminds me, make sure you make him eat your ass so he gets over that hang up. The point is, I knew he had to be a faggot if he couldn’t fuck this hot little cheerleader good…so disappointed in him. So I stepped in and took care of her. You and I will have to tag team her sometime, but I’ll make you use a condom on her. Or who knows, maybe not. Maybe we can both get her pregnant.

Okay, so have fun, man! Use his mouth and ass as if they were pussies that needed your babies. Return him to me broken in and with no doubt in his mind that his purpose in life is to be dominated by real men. Put him in his place, and I’ll be sure to keep him there. Oh, and if he resists at all, remind him that he either submits to you or he can kiss college goodbye, and he’ll be slinging fries at a McDonald’s for the rest of his life.

See you at the pool table,

Gary

As I finished reading, I was torn between the tears streaming down my face and the saliva running down my balls. This stranger’s mouth and tongue were making my ass feel better than it’s ever felt, but the information that I had just been bombarded with tore my heart out. Images of my girlfriend screaming in orgasm on my father’s cock flooded my brain and I wanted to bawl, but then the tongue behind me would push through my outer ring again and I would moan uncontrollably. Suddenly, he stopped and stood up. I looked back over my shoulder at him, my eyes red from crying. He smirked, “I see you finished reading it.” I nodded. “You know what’s next, right?” he asked. I shook my head no. “I break you in. And break you, I will.”

Part II coming soon.

Edited by Hotload84
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The bull took a hold of my tank top and tore it almost completely down the back. As the tattered shirt fell off my shoulders, he turned around, pressing me against the couch and clamped his mouth over one of my nipples. He began to suck and bite it making me whimper and moan. My dick was rock hard now as my shirt fell to the floor around my feet. His fingers found my other nipple and he flicked and scraped it with his fingernail as he continued to service my other pec. I clawed the back of his head and his broad back, needing the attention his mouth was giving.

He came up for air and I looked down at my left nipple swollen, wet, and beat red. It seriously looked like one of my girlfriend’s nipples and that was the first time I realized the degree to which he was going to emasculate me. He snarled at me, “Just like a girl, likes to get his tits worked, huh?” I shamefully whispered back, “Yes.” He slapped my face and corrected me, “Yes, Sir.” At first I was taken aback, my cheek stinging and a bit angry, but when I looked back at his steely gaze, I knew I had deserved the slap for being such a sissy boy. “Yes, Sir,” I exhaled, trying strangely to please him. Instead, he spat a huge wad of saliva that splattered on my mouth, nose, and cheek, and then bit his teeth onto my other nipple, smearing the spit all over my face with one of his hands.

As he chewed on my swelling nipple, one his hand roughly opened my legs, assuring me that there would be no asking this afternoon, no choices, no gentle nudges. He was intent on owning my body and using my holes as he saw fit. I felt like a whore, obligated to let him do what he wanted for a price. The price being $20. That’s what my ass and mouth were worth, my dignity, my manhood. And my father had determined the price. His hand reached between my muscled thighs and found my asshole, still slick with his spit. He nuzzled his fingers between my cheeks mumbling, “Fucking hot bubble butt,” and then continued to slurp on my chest while he pushed one of his fingers into my virgin ass. Nothing besides his tongue had ever been in there, and I began to pull away, yelping from the pain this small invasion was causing. His free hand shot up and caught me tightly around the neck, forcing me back down onto his finger. “Bigger than that’s going in there, boy, so you better just relax and get used to having things in your shitter,” he snarled, not looking up at me, just taking his mouth off my nipple long enough to say it and then return to making my nips puffy and blood-engorged, feminizing me further.

His digit dug around inside of me, pressing against the tender walls of my ass, pushing into my insides trying to find where he met resistance, where he could push through flaps of tissue, where he could put pressure that would make me moan or whimper. Although it hurt, he knew where to push up inside of me to keep my dick jumping. I had never precum before but I felt wetness emerging from my piss slit. The finger started pistoning into my hole, making me whine a little with every jab into me. He kept fingering my hole, but brought is face in front of mine. He snickered at me, “You sound just like my ex-wife’s sister when I used to fuck her. Same fucking noises.” I looked into his eyes, my own eyes wide, in disbelief that I was letting another man treat me the way a girl was supposed to be treated. His eyes were hard and unforgiving, taking what he wanted, knowing I would submit, knowing he was stronger than me. More of a man. He pulled his finger out abruptly, which made my ass and legs shake with a sensation that combined both pleasure and pain. Before I knew it, he forcefully shoved his fingers, including the one that had just been in my ass, into my mouth. He scooped the fingers around my mouth cavity and over my tongue. I choked and gagged a bit, confused, but he just as abruptly pulled his fingers out and returned two of them to hole, shoving both back into my chute. I howled for a second, but he just planted them there, firmly against a spot that made me start to mewl.

“This is just the beginning, boy. Do you know how good your cunt tasted? It was perfect - I can’t wait to turn it inside out. I’m going to wreck your fucking pussy so that I’m the only one that can get you off … and you keep crawling back here, begging me to fuck out your sloppy mancunt. You know what your mancunt is?” I didn’t answer, just sucked in a jagged breath not wanting to fuel his abuse. He waited a few moments for my reply, and when none came he crammed a third finger into me, growling, “This is your mancunt.” I whimpered and bit my bottom lip, feeling my asshole be stretched around almost this entire stranger’s hand. It was definitely humbling. “You know what your mancunt is now?” he baited.

I looked down, ashamed, “Yes,” I said almost inaudibly, taking a glance at my nipples, red and protruding like a bitch in heat. But his line of questioning wasn’t done. “And what goes in your mancunt?” I knew the answer. I didn’t want to know the answer and I hated myself for immediately knowing the correct response, but I could feel his pinky and thumb getting itchy and I knew he would use me like a sock puppet if I wasn’t forthcoming. So I looked up at him, and almost pleaded for him to be kind, “Anything that you say goes in it.” “Don’t think those puppy dog eyes are going to make me take it easy. Come on, stud, you’re a big jock boy, you can take a sticking and keep on licking, can’t you?” He emphasized his open mockery by splaying the three fingers in my ass, widening the stretch in my anal cavity and making me feel like I had to pee or cum or both. “Your mancunt is good for one thing. Getting real men off. Remember that for later.”

And with that, his three fingers slipped out of my ass and were shoved immediately into my mouth. My throat immediately tried to expel them, but he stayed firm and I was pinned to the back of the couch. “Clean ‘em off, whore. Learn to enjoy the taste of any ass, you worthless cum catch.” I had no choice and I closed my lips around his knuckles and he coached me through sucking on his fingers and using my tongue to get the slime from between each digit. I mean, his fingers weren’t that deep inside me (thought they felt like they were) so mostly it just tasted like old saliva. It was mostly the thought that made me gag, but I quickly got over that for the sake of getting my mouth back.

“It’s lunch time,” my dominator informed me and lifted his arm above his head, leaving his pit completely exposed thanks to the sleeveless shirt he wore. As his torso stretched I spied the very top of a red and black tattoo peaking above the waistband of his sweats, but I couldn’t see enough of it to tell what it was. “Dig in,” he nodded his head in the direction of his open armpit. My face crinkled in confusion. He grabbed the back of my head with the other hand and jeered, “I said, bon appetite, fuck twat,” and he buried my face in his pit.

The hair under his arm was soaked with sweat, pearling on the skin around the damp patch. The odor was strong. Not bad, just strong. A testament to the hard work he must have been doing before I showed up. Mowing the lawn, pulling weeds, hammering nails into a fence patch. My nostrils were filled with his pheromones and the remnants of his masculine chores. He jerked my head sternly and I took my cue. I began licking and sucking his arm pit. Such a strong taste. Not the bitter taste of deodorant as I would experience later with some of my other clients, but the overwhelming bouquet of man scent. It was the smell at the gym, or in the school locker room, or of one of my buddies after a pick up game of hoops that (I didn’t realize until that moment) always got me horny. As his intoxicating scent got me harder and harder, I went to town on his pit, using my full tongue to swipe the entire surface area of his under arm. He loosened the grip on my head, and eventually began to go back and forth between my nipples, tweaking them and rolling them between his fingers, increasing their irritation and my pleasure. I finally looked up at him breathless, panting with my mouth and cheeks covered in a thin film of my own saliva and his sweat.

With one hand, he grabbed a hold of my bottom jaw and shook it slightly, “Good boy, you’re starting to learn your place.” He released my face and gave it a light slap, He gave my right nipple one more pinch and noticed my tenting jock strap. “And you’re getting hard, faggot boy. Let’s see that little pecker of yours. Come on, show it to me. Mister Big Man with the girlfriend…you can show it to her and she’s supposed to be impressed enough to date your ass, show it to me.”

I reached down to the side of my jock strap, and for the first time I noticed the outline of his cock down the leg of his sweats. I had been in such a complete state of shock the past five minutes or so, I hadn’t even given a thought to how big his dick was. And he still wasn’t going to give me time to contemplate it, snapping, “Come on, you little cum dump, show me your dick.” I pulled the side of my jock strap aside and my penis popped out, fully erect and hard as a rock. The guy started laughing. He pointed and laughed. Now I know there were other guys in the locker room bigger than me, but my girl friend had never complained. Well, at least not to me, I guess, considering she was supposedly banging my dad. My father’s friend continued to laugh and point, “You call that a dick? That’s a weenie at best, and definitely not a cock. Wait a minute.”

He opened a drawer in the island of the kitchen and returned with a measuring tape. “Measure it, pussy boy.” I looked up at him pathetically. “Come on, big man, it looks rock hard to me, ain’t getting any bigger than that. Now’s the time to measure that monster,” he said mockingly. I knew this wasn’t going to turn out well, and I sheepishly took the measuring tape from him. I placed one end at the base of my penis and stretched it as taut as I could to the tip of it. There was a reason I had never measured my package and this was why. Looking up at him, I saw him register the number and bust out laughing. “Five? Five fucking inches? Actually, if you look closely, four and seven-eighths, not even five! Are you joking with that thing? How do you think you’re good for anything BUT taking dick? Who the fuck are you going to satisfy with that tiny thing? Certainly not your girlfriend as we just read. I’m not sure there’s ANY woman that would be able to get off on that. And I can’t imagine a guy with any dignity that would let you top him. You wanna’ see a real dick?”

With one gesture, he pulled his sweat pants down to mid-thigh. Out bounced a gigantic piece of meat. He slowly slipped his shirt off to allow me time to take it in. This thing was only semi-hard at this point, but it was thick and juicy, and for as much hair as he had on his torso and powerful arms, his crotch was nice and managed. Not manicured or shaved, but tight and groomed, emphasizing the perfectly shaped mammoth cock bobbing between his thighs, propped up by a pair of lightly haired balls about the size of golf balls so full of the fluid that would be pooled in my guts in less than two hours that they pulled the skin of his scrotum, bowing it in at the top and tapering out where his two baby-makers swung pendulously. I could also finally see the full tattoo in a small area on his pelvic bone, naturally sparse with hair. It was a red and black symbol like the ones in biology class where we put anything contaminated. I couldn't figure out what would make him get that inked on his body unless it was just an intimidating tattoo that matched his dominating persona. I was in the middle of trying to sort out the possibilities when he shoved the tape measure into my hands again. “Measure it.”

I stepped forward. “On your knees,” he qualified the position in which I would be measuring his cock. I was shaking as I got to my knees and reach my hands forward to measure his gigantic phallus. I have NEVER touched another guy’s cock before, much less one this huge. I placed the end of the measuring tape at the base of his member causing it to jump slightly from the attention. I startled a bit and lurched back. He chuckled, “It’s not gonna’ bite you. What it’s gonna’ do to you hurts a lot more than biting.” The sadistic grin. I pulled the measuring tape loosely to the tip of him and my eyes got big when I saw the number. “Read it to me, boy.” I looked up, my face just inches from his manhood, the measuring tape still in my hands stretched to an absurd number. “Nine.” “Read it again,” he insisted. “Nine and a quarter,” I read more accurately. “That’s better. And I’ll save you the trouble. It’s seven around, eight at it’s thickest; the thickest being that mushroom head you’re staring at. And that fucker’s not even fully hard yet. You better fix that quick.” With that, he relieved me of the tape measure, throwing it in the open drawer and swung his rod back into my face, slapping me in the cheek with it and making as loud a sound as when he lightly slapped me. The thing had so much heft to it that it actually stung a bit when it smacked my cheek.

“So now let’s get on the same page,” he began. “Are you a man?” I looked up into his face. He tilted his head and raised his eyebrows, demanding an honest response. I looked to his intimidating tool gradually filling with blood and then looked down at my dwarfed boydick that looked more like an enlarged clit when compared to his monster. I pulled the fabric of the jock back over my crotch, hiding my pathetic package and replying, “No, I’m not.” “Am I a man?” “Yes, Sir.” “Why?” “Because you have a big dick.” “That’s right, pussy boy. It’s all about your dick. You need to accept that you don’t have a dick to offer, you have your holes. That means you’re not even a Beta Male, you’re a bottom bitch who services any real man that wants to get off. Understand?” A tear rolled down my face, “Yes, Sir.” “Good bitch. So now, where is my big dick going?" I hated the fact that my ass hole twitched in anticipation, knowing the answer. “It’s going inside of my ass.” “You ever been fucked before?” I swallowed hard, “No.” He smirked, “Well, you’re fucked now.” The sadistic grin.

PART 3 COMING SOON.

Edited by Hotload84
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The stud looked down at me, “Take a hold of it.”

My hand hesitated as I reached for his humungous cock, totally engorged with blood at this point. I swear it had grown another inch at least from when I measured it. I wrapped my hand around it, but my fingers just barely touched, and definitely not comfortably. It was so thick and juicy.

“Stroke it,” he condescended. I began running my hand up and down the length of his cock, moist from the hot day and his yard work. “That’s how a cock is supposed to feel in your hand. Meaty, big, like mine. You enjoying that?”

I couldn’t tell him. I didn’t know. All of this was so new. I knew that I didn’t want it to be happening. I was terrified of what was coming, and I was humiliated to know that I would never be able to satisfy another person as a man. There was a feeling in my stomach though, a fluttery feeling. An uncontrollable excitement at being completely robbed of my power of choice, of submitting totally to another man. There was a freedom in it, an empowerment in being able to shed the pressure and worry of measuring up. I didn’t measure up, but I could offer my holes without feeling the need to compete or prove myself. I figured that I must enjoy stroking his cock because I was still doing it and he wasn’t egging me on.

With a small cursory nod I answered his question and then tried to quickly change the subject by asking, “What does the tattoo mean?” The black and red emblem that I had seen in doctors' offices and biology labs for years was right at eye level, staring me in the face. It seemed to be warning me…but of what?

“I’ll tell you what,” the beast licked his lips. “When you’ve given your ass over to all of my cock; when your pussy rings have stretched and open enough so that your smooth little bubble butt is pressed up against that tattoo, I’ll tell you what it means.”

I had been looking at him while he spoke, my eyes crinkling more and more with concern as he talked about the intention of putting that entire part of his anatomy into my tight pink asshole. His eyes rolled back in his head and grabbed his cock away from me, jerking it at the speed of light and growling, “Uhhhh, those little looks of fear you give me, get me so fucking hard and horny.” And with that, he squeezed his thumb down the entire ten-plus inches of his shaft and a bead of sticky fluid peaked out of the hole at the end of his penis. It formed a full pearl of pre-cum, hanging onto the opening of his cock and had soon created a drip about a half inch long dangling from the slit. “Take a taste.”

“What?” I stammered, not ready for this.

“Stick out your tongue and lick that juice from the end of this hole wrecker.” I just froze. “I swear to God, if you waste that drip of pre-cum and let it fall to the floor, not only will I shove your face down there to lap it up so fast and so hard that you’ll have a bloody lip, but I will stick my entire fuck stick into you dry and fuck a hole into your colon. Get licking.”

And I could tell he was serious about hurting me so I stuck my tongue out and leaned forward on my knees. I pushed my tongue against the end of his bulbous head and transferred the sticky substance from his hole onto my tongue. His taste filled my mouth immediately, this sweet and salty nectar that immediately got my tiny dick harder and made me inadvertently open my thighs a bit to allow anything and anyone easier access to my back door, but also made me feel trashier and used, nothing but a worthless receptacle for a real man’s bodily fluids. But I didn’t mind feeling that way.

His taste lingered in my mouth but was too weak to incite the feelings again. I reached out for his dick, trying to squeeze another dollop onto my tongue, and managed a smaller, equally delicious drop. I released his pole and moved my tongue around my mouth trying to expose my taste buds to as much of the stuff as I could.

With a small laugh, my attention was brought back to the man that owned me for the afternoon just to settle a $20 pool debt. His enjoyment of my desire for the shit coming out of his dick was apparent and he smiled that smile at me. “Go ahead and suck it. Give it a good taste. Worship a real man by taking his cock where ever he wants to put it.”

“I don’t know how to suck cock.” I didn’t. I was being honest. I had never done it, and he was so big. I wouldn’t do it well, I knew I wouldn’t. And I was scared about what it meant if I did.

He simply said, “So you’ll learn. And you’ll learn fast. The better you are at it, the longer it is before I violate your other hole.” My ass clenched at the mention of being torn open by his oversized tool and my stomach fluttered at having it be called my “other hole.” I accepted what he said by nodding as I approached his 10 incher, slowly opening my mouth. “Open bigger than that, boy.” I stretched my mouth wider, and felt the soft velvety skin of his mushroom head push through my lips. Again, he tasted of sweat and work. Not dirty, but clean fresh sweat (Again, I would find out the difference later with some of my other clients that tasted of dirty sweat.) This man’s taste consumed me, especially when his helmet was against my soft pallet and my tongue was rubbed against by the spongy, damp skin of the steel-like shaft.

“That’s a good rookie cocksucker,” he coached. “Now suck on it a bit. Pretend you wanna’ suck something from my balls through my dick like a straw.” I began giving the portion of his cock I had in my mouth some suction, doing exactly what he said by pretending that I was sucking on a straw. The taste of his pre-cum flooded my mouth again, this time more than the first drip. I felt like a whore and sucked harder.

“That’s a good hole. Now bob your head a bit. Be sure to keep those teeth out of the way. Good faggot boy, pretend your mouth is a pussy and fuck yourself with my meat.”

I bobbed my head just like he said, trying to take more of it, but not really getting that much of his endowment in my mouth. “Now this is important,” he schooled. “Don’t be all neat and prissy about your blow jobs. Let them get messy. Let the saliva flow, let it run out onto the cock, over your face, never swallow that shit back down. The only thing you swallow is puke if you should gag that much on it. Don’t ever fucking throw up on my dick. You train your fucking throat better than that.”

I continued to bob and suck, letting the saliva building up in my mouth go where it wanted. There wasn’t enough room in my mouth for his gigantic piece and all that saliva so it began to run down the top of the 6 inches of his cock not yet in my mouth hole and all over my chin, dripping and falling down onto my sore red boy tits and my eight pack. I felt his hand run through my hair, and then his fingers entangled themselves in my tresses, reclaiming the power and control of how much cock each of my orifices would be consuming. My eyes shot up to look at him, immediately tearing and pleading with him to have mercy.

Slight pain in my hair straining against my scalp signaled me to meet his pelvic thrusts with my mouth. His throbbing pole began hitting the back of my throat causing me to gag and choke. I remembered what he said so I focused on not letting myself puke. My hands reached forward to brace myself against his thighs, muscled and defined from sports and work…and I’m sure, from fucking every hole attached to a hot person. Spit was running like a waterfall down my chin and over my torso. My eyes were watering so tears were streaming down my face and snot was dripping from my nose uncontrollably. Bubbles were forming and popping all around the entrance of my mouth where his cock picked up speed in its invasion of my face. I continued to look up at him, embarrassed of all of these things, embarrassed to be emitting so many unattractive fluids all over my face, my mouth distorted by another man’s horse cock.

But he would have none of that. “Forget about it, cunt, let it go. You look like such a slut. Ashamed that you have tears, snot, and spit all over your face. And all because of my cock. Just think, your girlfriend never looked like this because your dick can’t do this. She coulda’ flossed with your pathetic dick, but this is what a man can do. Reduce a pussy boy to a choking, gagging whore with red teary eyes, a runny nose, and a mouth stretched beyond recognition. So just accept it. Fucking relish the freedom of letting those juices flow, of being covered with spit and semen and piss and snot just to please another man, a real man. Come on, let it go. Let it go.”

My mind was racing, but I figured that this was happening one way or the other, so I might as well listen to him. He had far more experience in this than I did. He sounded like he was trying to help me make it easier on myself, albeit a bit cruelly. So I tried. I stretched my increasingly tiring mouth even wider, tried to think of yawning in order to open my throat, and stopped trying to blink away the tears or sniffle up the snot. He immediately felt my mouth and throat give in, “That’a boy…” He really began skull fucking me, the helmet of his tool plungering in and out of my virgin throat. Everything was flowing…tears poured out of my eyes, mucus bubbled, dripped, and dried as I fought to breath through my nose, and saliva just gushed, splattered, and spilled in long strings from my chin and his cock onto my body and the floor. As I gagged, I prevented myself from throwing up, but I would cough up bile from deeper inside of me that inevitably would spill out over my chin and down my torso. I could hear the sounds of wet suction in my mouth and throat as I took him farther into my gagging orifice until suddenly, I felt his low hangers slapping against my chin. I couldn’t believe it. There was enough of his ten and half inches in my little mouth so that his balls could swing and hit my chin.

“That’s a good little whore. Let me skull fuck you, you stupid little slut. You fucking cock socket.” And he just kept pushing into my mouth, invading my throat, his balls hitting my wet chin in rhythm and sending small showers of spit into the air, spraying my face and his hips. The friction and the repeated stabbing into my throat was wearing me down so in retaliation, I reached my hands around to the back of his thighs and his ass, and I don’t know what I was thinking but I pulled him into me, rooting his cock deep in my throat. I dug the fingers of my right hand into his chiseled ass and grasped his right hamstring with a wanton need, not letting him move, just keeping almost 5 inches of his dick in my esophagus. Somehow it occurred to me that I could pulse my aching throat around his cock and so I squeezed his snake with my throat to keep him satisfied with the lack of movement. I kept re-emphasizing my need to have him lodged in my gullet by forcefully caressing and kneading his leg and ass. I was being reduced to a 20 dollar whore.

“Holy fuck, you are a cock lover. Look at you using your throat like a pussy trying to milk a baby out of me. You are such a dumb little fuck toy. You just love that dick, don’t you?”

He waited. I couldn’t believe he wanted me to answer. I was engulfed on his cock! His hands held firm on my head and I was starting to feel a bit suffocated. “Come on, faggot, answer the question. You just love that dick, don’t you?” I pushed back on his hand, but he didn’t budge. “Ah ah ah, answer me with that cock in your throat. You can do it.” I was starting to get that panicky feeling because my limited air supply was becoming uncomfortable. I struggled and whimpered a little bit. “No you don’t. You don’t come up from that cock until you answer me and I can understand what you said. You just love that dick, don’t you?”

I quickly tried to say, “Yes, Sir,” but it was completely unintelligible. I didn’t even understand it and I was the one saying it.

“I couldn’t understand that,” he taunted. “Be a lot more articulate than that.”

I was starting to get scared that he would never let me breathe. I mustered all my energy and said as clearly as I could, “Yes, Sir.”

He released my head as he said, “That’s what I thought, bitch.” I sputtered and choked as I sucked big breaths of air in. Stroking his glistening shaft with long, smooth gestures, he circled me like a shark, collecting the slime from his tool in his hand. He grabbed my hair again and yanked my head back, my mouth instinctively flying open as the ceiling became my focal point. I felt his other hand scoop up the spit that had pooled on my body, adding to the collection from his dick. He then moved up to my face and scooped up all of the stringy saliva, bile, and snot from my cheeks and chin. Leaning over my still gaping mouth, he force fed me the goo in his hand, and then added to the cocktail by hawking up a loogey and expertly spitting it in my mouth. “Swallow it, slut.” I brought my lips together and gulped down the disgusting mixture. It certainly didn’t taste good, but my dick jumped and my ass twitched so I knew it was something that I craved. My tongue lashed out and looped around my mouth in search of any extra saliva, precum, or dried snot that I could ingest. My captor was obviously please with my submission and released my hair, continuing to circle me.

Finally, he placed his forearms on the back of the couch and bent over. Somehow, even in this typically vulnerable position, he looked masculine and powerful. His hairy legs bulged and tensed as he bent his knees so that his sculpted ass was more exposed. Both of his cheeks quivered slightly, the muscles flexing in waves as he maneuvered into a comfortable position that he would be able to maintain for a while. The hair on his ass looked soft and silky, the skin beneath glistening with the same sweat that I had encountered everywhere else on this bull. A deep crevice cut through the rounded globes of his ass leading to his asshole. An asshole not like mine, not meant to have things in it. Not meant to be used by other men in lieu of jerking off. Not meant to be used as an alternative to a urinal. That’s what my pretty pink asshole was for, not his. His brown pucker stared straight at me, expectantly. It was a tight, manly starfish of an asshole lightly circled with wispy brown hair.

“Don’t just look at it, faggot. Eat it.”

“You haven’t showered though.”

“I’m gonna’ fuckin’ beat your ass, you stupid whore. A fuck hole that I own for the afternoon shouldn’t give a shit whether I showered or not.” His mention of shit made my mind spin. What if he had pooped before I got there. I definitely didn’t want to taste THAT! He interrupted my thoughts, “You need to get your whore-ass tongue out of your slutty mouth and into my butt or I swear to God I will put things up your ass that you’ll have to go to an emergency room to get out. Don’t think I’m kidding. I once kicked a bottom out that door because I had forced him to take a baseball up his ass and he couldn’t push it out. I told him to come back when he strengthened his cunt muscles and sent him on his way.”

I knew he wasn’t joking so I just mustered up my courage and smooshed my face into his ass. Fuck, was he musky. No shit smell at all, but the pungent fragrance of a truly masculine man. The way his sweat meshed with his body’s chemistry turned what could have been B.O. into something aromatic, earthy, and truly delicious. My mouth literally watered and I knew I needed to taste it as well as smell it. I inhaled deeply to have the smell strong and fresh in my nostrils as I spread his muscular cheeks with my hands, planting my open mouth on his waiting anus. “Yeah, lick it like a full service bottom should,” he encouraged.

Feeling the need to enjoy as much of his musk as possible, I slobbered over his hole, crack, and glutes. I gently bit his ass, running my tongue back and forth, and then pressing it into his hole, feeling his tender unfucked insides against my exploratory tongue. Legs shaking, he growled and beat his meat as his rented property slurped and sucked his ass. I must have done this for five or ten minutes and would have been content to keep going, although the muskiness was starting to dissipate much to my disappointment. However, he had other plans. He looked back over his shoulder at me munching away on his shitter like a kid eating his favorite meal and said matter-of-factly, “Okay, now it’s time to split open your tight little cunt.” I looked up from his ass, my face slick with my own saliva that now tasted and smelled like his ass musk, scared and helpless. He just grinned.

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He reached back and slapped my head away from his ass, as he returned to his full upright position. With his enormous cock swinging with each macho step, he made his way to the bar in the living room and pulled a backless bar stool next to the arm of the couch. “Come here,” he beckoned, stroking his ten inches. Shaking, I slowly got up from my knees. My limbs were stiff and my face, chest, and stomach were covered with hardening bodily fluids. I was terrified of what was next and I couldn’t believe I was willingly moving toward it. The saddest part is, it wasn’t because my father had threatened to not pay for college. I didn’t know why I was moving toward it.

“Bend over this stool,” he commanded and I quickly followed his orders. Harshly, he ran his fingers over my ass hole, cramming a finger in and pulling it right back out. “You’re still fucking juicy, dude,” he said in disbelief. “You are such a fucking whore. You were born for this.” He spit four times into his palm and coated his dick with it, and then he pointed his monster cock straight up towards his face, lined his mouth up, and dropped a big glob of spit right on the rigid head of it. Smearing the spit all over the mushroom cap, he warned, “It’s in your own best interest to just relax,” and he began rubbing his pole against my opening, nudging in each time his cock ran across my pink pucker. It made me whine every time I felt him run the head of his dick across my hole. I felt him really start to nudge his way in.

“What about lube, dude?”

His hand came down hard on my ass, burning as if I had sat on an oven. He had held nothing back. “I’m not your dude, shit-for-brains!” he scolded, slapping my other cheek, spitting on it, smearing the spit, and then spanking it even harder, the force being multiplied by the wetness he had applied. “DO. YOU. UN-. DER-. STAND. ME?” he slapped a different cheek with each accented syllable, harder and harder. I howled through my belittling punishment until I finally broke down in a full out cry, “YES!!!”

“Good.” He went back to sliding his fuck stick against my boy cunt, “Ask your question again.”

I swallowed and asked carefully, “What about lube, Sir?”

He chided in a Southern drawl, “If it doesn’t go in with spit and persistence, it ain’t love!” How could he think this was funny? I had no idea if I was going to be able to handle this and he was cracking jokes. He continued, “And I think you’re gonna’ love me a little bit when I’m through with you. So spit it is.”

He kept nudging into me, and I tried to relax, but after a few nudges, he got impatient. With constant pressure on my sphincter, he pushed his engorged cock head past my first ring, causing me to scoot away a little bit and yelp. His powerful hands firmly grabbed my waist and stopped me from scurrying away and in the process, forced more of his cock into. I felt my insides stretching around this large invader, trying to accommodate its vastness. My walls wouldn’t adjust quickly enough and the pain was intense. I began howling again, begging him to slow down, but he was like an animal possessed now that I was wailing and writhing about. Steadily, he pushed inch after inch into my tearing rectum, producing sounds from me that I had never made before. Awful cat-like screeches as my ass was destroyed for the first time.

All of a sudden, amidst the pain, an incredible sensation waved over me as I felt him hit the end of my ass. Feeling his thick head bump against that spot where he was bottoming out was sensational even though my ass still burned and flexed in stabbing pain. However, I was wrong. “You still have about two more inches to go,” he popped my bubble and pushed forward. I screamed out as I realized that what I thought was the end of my ass was actually just an inner ring that he was intent on tearing beyond repair as well.

I felt so full, as if my ass was inflating. The pain was excruciating but I kept getting jolts of agonizingly exquisite sensations that would course through my body. Goose bumps rose up on my thighs and ass. “Yeah, look at those goose bumps. That cunt is cock hungry!” The waistband of my jockstrap was grab and twisted twice around his hand and wrist and pulled taut like the reins on a horse. His powerful erection started moving inside of me, finding a moderate groove. In reality, he was being nice to me since he wasn’t plowing me, but the fact is that it was my first time and he was over ten inches long and hilted in my virgin boy pussy. I thought I was going to pass out from the torturous fucking I was receiving.

He began to pick up speed, my ass bouncing off of his hips, his percolating nuts slapping against my smooth pink ass. It felt like there was a steaming hot poker rammed up into my stomach, and I gritted my teeth, grunting and snorting like a pig, trying to soldier through the railing that this stud was carelessly giving my broken hole.

My mind was clouded from the stabbing pain in my ass when suddenly I realized that my puny prick was flat against my stomach, more rigid than it had ever been with my girlfriend or from masturbating. What was this guy doing to me? What was he turning me into? “…turning you into a whore…” he mumbled, as if reading my thoughts while pounding into my colon. “…nice converted cum dump pussy bottom…” he hissed out through labored breaths.

“How old are you, boy?” he asked without missing a slam of cock into me.

Wiping the tears from my cheeks and wincing through another wave of pain as his rod found another unexplored corner of my pussy, I answered, “I turned 18 two weeks ago.”

“Oh fuck! Goddamn, you are getting turned inside out and bred by some stranger almost three times your age. You are truly a fucked out cum bucket.” Granted he was hot, but it was still true. I was letting myself be fucked for the first time…no, completely used by a guy that would have been in his 30s when I was born. And at this point, although, it still hurt like hell, it was clearly what my body wanted. I was a disgusting little faggot to be so naturally cock hungry that I would grant some strange guy in his 50s carte blanche access to my holes. “Oh yeah, think about that…the stud behind you right now is 32 years older than you, breeding you like a bitch in heat. I didn’t convert until I was 45. You’re gonna’ have me beat by 27 years. 27 more years to enjoy the bug.”

His hands gripped tighter on my 28” waist and his fucking got harder, more determined. Grunting through my words with every thrust that pushed my innards aside, I said, “What are you talking about? I don’t understand.”

Chuckling, he slowed and long stroked his beer can cock in and out of my straining cunt and said, “Oh, right. I told you I would fill you in on the tattoo once your ass cheek touched while my dick was in you. So fair’s fair. What I meant by converting is that I turned poz five years ago. And you’ll be poz too when you walk out that door today.”

“No, no…” I begged, freaking out and frantically tried to wiggle away. I just kept saying “no, no,” and fighting with all of my might to get him out of me. He laughed and almost effortlessly just held my hips in place with his erection about four inches inside of me. “Awww, no you don’t,” he kind of sang and then with one powerful pull of his hands, impaled me on his death stick. My back arched up and I screamed into the air like a howling wolf. “Can’t get away now,” he said with certainty, “the deal is done. It’s right there in the fucking letter, piggie.”

I looked on the couch cushions at the yellow legal pad paper still laying there wet with my tears. My dad’s letter. The poisonous beast started hammering into me deeply, only pulling out about three or four inches, and then really punching into my inner ring. The motion and the pain made it difficult to focus on the letter, but eventually I was able to. Immediately, I zeroed in on the passage that my poz top was talking about:

Fuck him raw and send him home with at least one big load of cum in him. I’m aware of what that means, and yes, I’m sure.

Holy shit, my father knew and this is why I was sent over. I couldn’t believe he would do this to me. He was letting some buddy from the bar wreck my hole and shoot HIV into me. What had I done to deserve this? I had mouthed off to him. And I had disappointed him. Here I was getting in his face about being a man, meanwhile my girlfriend is bending his ear about how I can’t satisfy her. I just don’t know why she just didn’t break up with me then. Then it dawned on me, he had asked her not to. Not to spare my feelings but to spare his. So I didn’t embarrass him by losing this hot girl because I wasn’t man enough to keep her. And he started fucking her to keep her quiet about me. Then I – his disappointment of a son that he suspects is queer – starts mouthing off about being a man, and he decides to teach me a lesson. He was purposefully putting disease into his only son to prove to me that I wasn’t the big man I thought I was. That I was just a worthless receptacle for cum, toxic or clean, to be used by guys who were real men. And by real men, he meant guys with big dicks, not tiny ones like mine. I was fucked.

I couldn’t let this happen. I clenched my ass trying to squeeze him out and instantly felt his member puff up bigger, “Fuck, faggot, you are a natural cum slut, milking my death stick like that.” My attempt to push him out was having the opposite effect and I immediately stopped contracting my ass. Undeterred, he teased me, “Awww, was that you trying to push me out? And what? You think I can’t make you milk that cock?” And with that he reached around and rolled both of my nipples between his fingers. No matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t prevent my cunt from rhythmically squeezing and releasing his rod in response to the attention on my tits. “Atta’ boy.” I started bawling but my body just kept responding to his touch and his fucking.

A rush of determination filled me and I began to crawl away, trying to remove his poisonous cock from my ass. He would have none of that and continued fucking me, mounting me like an animal. I used my arms to pull me forward, caught one of my feet on a wrung of the stool, and pushed. With grunts and guttural noises, his body remained on me as I tried desperately to flee onto the couch. Literally, I was fucked down the length of the couch as I tried to escape my fate. This fueled him as he continued to drill my ass, using my resistance as a way to turn my violation into more of a sport. Finally, I broke down, biting into far arm of the couch, screaming into the fabric as he ruthlessly trenched out my mancunt.

Amazing how ten inches can feel like sixteen when it’s being dragged through your bowels. Every time he would pull himself out of me, it felt like he was taking my insides with him, turning me inside out. I also felt strangely empty, like it was wrong to have him out of me. As agonizing as it was to have him brutalizing my guts, I needed him back inside of me emotionally and physically. I beat my fist on the pillow next to my face, my teeth sinking into the dusty fabric of the couch arm, while visions of my rectum being pull outside of my asshole filled my head. There was so much I was scared of at that moment: of this man giving me his diseased sperm, of my ass being damaged beyond repair so that it had that slutty rosebud look with your pucker exposed and swollen, of my future. Was this my future, was this all I was good for? I would find out soon enough that the resounding answer was yes.

Without warning, the cock was pulled out of me and he yanked me off the couch by my arm. My ass seized and spasmed in abrupt pain and I yelped loud enough for a neighbor to hear, I'm sure. “On your knees, suck the cock that was just in your asshole.” Before I knew it, I had fallen to my knees having been roughly thrown from the furniture and my mouth was full of his slimy snake. “Yeah, taste your ass. Taste good?” I just whined on his dick, his unyielding hands moving my head up and down on his rod. “Yeah, taste all that ass juice. Nice ass juice. Eat your ass off my dick.”

Granted, I was a first time bottom, so I hadn’t cleaned out, but I made it a habit not to eat after 7:30pm and before I go to the gym, I only ever have liquids and fruit. On top of that, my diet is pretty healthy…so my ass is pretty clean, especially pre-gym. Thank God, there was no taste of shit or anything. It tasted of his pre-cum and it tasted of my insides, which I actually liked, which was just astounding. Something about being able to experience how I tasted ten inches inside of me was just so exciting to me. I felt pre-cum soaking the front of my jock strap. In addition to the nectar of his pre-cum and the nasty delicacy of my insides, I also tasted something metallic and coppery, but wasn’t sure what it was. I put it out of my head and the other tastes had me so fucking horny that I just slurped away on his manhood.

“Good boy, goooo-oood boyyyy,” he whined, working through an intense moment of pleasure. “Nurse it, boy. That’s my little cum pup, it’s like a fucking pacifier for you. So fucking young, I love it. Just a kid. Well, all the kids I know like to play with toys. You like toys, bitch?”

His cock popped out of my mouth and I looked up at him with big saucer eyes still holding his heavy cock in my hand, “What kind of toys?” What a stupid fucking question.

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