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Easter Egg Hunt


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(The Eggs, and the First Hunt...)

The reference to "my ex-daddybear" is a link to this story: https://breeding.zone/threads/11848-Ex-Daddybear-s-Goodbye-Gift

"Easter Egg Hunt"

The package I got was so obviously from my ex-Daddybear that I stopped cold in the middle of the mailroom, holding the key to the larger parcel boxes that the mailman used to deliver oversized mail to the building. I hadn’t spoken to him since he’d arranged a goodbye for me that had played on some of my darkest urges and fantasies, and I’d figured we’d never speak again. He’d opened my eyes to so many things before he’d moved to the west coast, not the least of which was an enjoyment of rough sex – especially blindfolded. And raw. And blindfolded. And tied up.... I shivered, looking at the package. It was a tube, like the last time. I put the key back in the mailbox and went upstairs to my apartment, and didn’t let myself think before I tore open the end of the tube. His handwriting hadn’t changed, but this tube wasn’t anything like the last two. They’d had posters which basically were a menu for me to pick someone to come and fuck me. I still got a shiver deep in my gut thinking about those times when I’d allowed complete strangers – complete strangers with no idea of their status – to fuck me. I’d been tied up and blindfolded, even. This tube, though, was full of quite a few slips of paper of various colours – at least a dozen - and a larger sheet that seemed to be instructions and directions, a red marker, and his note.

His note was simple: “Was invited to this, but can’t go. It reminded me of you, so I scored you an invitation. Definitely your thing. Have fun, boy, and don’t check off anything I wouldn’t do. I hope you get the blue one – I think you’d be perfect together. I took the liberty of already making some choices for you.” Beneath that, there was a P.S. “Have you called those numbers yet?” I shivered. I hadn’t. I still had the poster, though, with the numbers of the four guys who I’d been asked to “choose from” (I’d had two of them fuck me.) They weren’t sure of their statuses, and I’d been a nervous wreck when I’d gone for testing. But I was negative still.

The large sheet of paper was an invitation to an Easter egg hunt. I blinked. That couldn’t be right. What the hell? I read it again. No, it was an Easter egg hunt. Then I looked at the instructions, and my caught my breathe. “Each slip of paper relates to one of the partners you may be paired with throughout the Easter egg hunt. Choose options that appeal to you from each slip of paper. As always, this event will be anonymous, and random. Use the self-addressed return envelope to return all slips of paper with your selections.” The note went on to explain timelines – if they hadn’t heard from me by the end of two weeks, I’d be eliminated, and one of the back-ups would be put in my place. I looked at the pieces of coloured paper – I was searching for the blue – and picked it up and looked at it. It was basically a list of options. Sex options. It said: “I am open to...” and then was followed by a list of choices with little check-boxes beside them. Some of the individual options had been completely blacked out – some of the papers were actually nearly entirely blacked out, it seemed – but a glance at the other pieces of paper showed me that it was different on each coloured piece of paper, but the master list was the same for all of them, in the same order. I was starting to get it – these were the things the other guys were into, and I was basically telling them what I was into from the list of what they liked. What I’d be willing to do.

I swallowed. The blue paper had the following options to choose from, each with an empty box beside them:

Being blindfolded.

Being face-fucked.

Being fingered.

Being fisted.

Being fucked.

Being fucked without lube.

Being gagged.

Being rimmed.

Being spanked.

Being sucked.

Being handcuffed or otherwise having my hands tied.

Rimming you.

Rough sex.

Sucking your cock.

Swallowing your load.

Swallowing your piss.

Taking verbal abuse.

Taking watersports (anal).

I couldn’t help but notice that one option had already been checked off. I shivered when I glanced down at the other pieces of paper, and saw the red ink mark beside the same option on all the slips of paper.

The option that was checked off – on all of the slips - was “Being fucked raw (Status unimportant).” I could barely breathe. My dick was rock hard. I opened the pen, and picked up the next piece of paper.

I’d mailed off the dozen pieces of coloured paper in the envelope provided. Part of me wanted to contact my former daddy bear and ask him how he’d even heard of this “event” but we hadn’t spoken or e-mailed since that last night, and it felt wrong, somehow, to want to hear his voice without being tied up, freshly fucked, and having anonymous cum leaking out of my ass. What had surprised me had been how arousing it had been to fill in the little slips of paper. It wasn’t that I hadn’t agreed with my ex-daddy bear – the blue slip of paper sounded just up my alley – it was that some of the others were intriguing. None were misses – there hadn’t been a single slip of paper I hadn’t wanted to check something off on, and that made my insides almost liquid with a mix of shame and desire. Swallowing my spit. Being flogged. Taking dildos (select size: small, medium, large, extra-large). Tit torture. Taking ecstasy. Being choked. There were things I hadn’t tried, hadn’t done, and some of them made me stop and shiver, just to think about them. But always: Being fucked raw, with the checkmark already entered by my former lover.

By the time Easter long-weekend rolled around, I was a mess of nerves, but even thinking about the little slips of paper made me rock hard. I’d had to step into the bathroom at work and beat off at least once a day just to get through the work day, and my co-workers kept asking me if there was something wrong. I seemed distracted, they said. “Just have plans for the weekend,” I said. Such a bland way to describe it. The reality loomed in the back of my mind: I wouldn’t know anyone at this party. I’d received the follow-up “package” – a map and address with my invitation and a wrist-band like the ones you got at bars. It was an overnight event, and I would need to bring only a change of clothes. Drink and food was included. At the end of the short letter there was a reiteration of the terms. Words kept coming back to mind. Anonymous. Random. And always, my ex-daddy bear’s extra notation: Being fucked raw.

The address was for a place quite a way outside of the city, at an address a bit away from one of the nearby small towns, and I’d had to work out a way to get there. I’d called in a favor with a friend to be dropped off at a spot close enough to walk the last bit of the gap, and I’d get picked back up in the small town at the diner the next day. Just in case, I’d bring my cell, of course. The drive there was nerve-wracking, and I had to keep up my pretense with my friend that I was looking forward to a weekend dinner with friends. When he dropped me off and pulled away, I shouldered my backpack and started the walk in the cool night air, glancing down at the map once to make sure I was going in the right direction. The address turned out to be a big farmhouse that had obviously been remodeled and modernized and sold for the view of the river. The barn still stood, as did two other small outbuildings – one of which looked to have been converted into a garage. As I walked up, I was aware of the cars lined up along the driveway and the side of the road, and felt my stomach clenching in nervous pulses. I pulled out my wristband and snapped it on as I started up the driveway.

I was obviously one of the last to arrive, though still well before the time listed on the invitation. When I knocked on the door, it opened after a moment, and I looked up at one of the burlier guys I’d seen. He had a shaved head, and a dark black beard, and a leather face-mask. He was wearing jeans and a black leather vest, and the dark hair that spread across his chest made my dick thicken in my own jeans. He looked down at my wrist band, and nodded. “Glad you could make it,” he said, and stepped aside. I stepped inside. “Follow me – we’ll get you ready to be a bunny,” he said. I wasn’t entirely sure what he meant by that, but I followed him into a small cloak room. He took my back and checked my wristband again, then opened up a plastic bag with a matching wristband on it. From the bag he pulled out a white face-mask, a jockstrap – it had a white fluffy bunny-tail attached to the strap at the back – and a pair of fuzzy bunny ears. I couldn’t help it. I laughed. He nodded. “Cute, eh?” I took them. My hands were shaking. "Go ahead and get changed,” he said. He made no move to leave. I felt myself blushing as I stripped off my clothes and he took each piece and put it into the bag. He watched me as I shed my clothes, and smiled – his teeth were very white in his beard – as I stepped into my “bunny tail” jockstrap and then tied on the mask and put on my ears. “I think the white rabbit is going to be a popular hunt,” the big man said. “Pardon?” I asked. He just laughed. “Come on,” he said, and opened the door. “You’re the last one here.”

The group was gathered in a large great-room that bordered an open kitchen in the large house. There were about a dozen men in masks like the guy who opened the door – all of them older, with bodies that were variances of burly and big and strong, but only five other bunnies like me – each of which, I realized, were mostly built like me – slimmer, younger, though I noticed one bunny – who had a red mask, jock and ears (we each had a different coloured set, I noticed) was more of an otter type – hairy and bearded. The group was mixing, most had drinks or food and were laughing and talking. The bunnies were moving around, often getting groped by the older men in the crowd. I swallowed. “Grab a drink and some dinner,” the black-bearded man said, and then he went into the crowd to talk to a tall bear of a man who had definitely seen the inside of a gym once or twice, judging by his thick arms. I wondered which man belonged to the blue slips of paper. A hand stroked my ass as I got a beer from the cooler, and I turned, blushing, to see a large black man grinning at me. “Aren’t you pretty,” he said, and winked behind his mask. “Thanks,” I said, feeling my stomach clench. The air was a bit cool on my skin, and wearing only a jockstrap – and ridiculous bunny ears – in front of these guys was a bit overwhelming. The black man’s thick chest was stubbled with short hair, and he wore a very trim goatee. He was built like a fireplug, not very tall, but damned wide. “This your first egg hunt?” he asked. “Yeah,” I replied. He smiled and advised me “Have fun. I’ll make sure to keep an eye out for the white eggs.”

I laughed nervously, and he stepped away. I took a swallow of my beer, and started to fill a plate with some carrots and dip. I was too nervous to eat anything else. A few more of the masked men stopped to talk to me – and most of them touched me in some way. One of them, a guy who reminded me of Mr. Clean of all things, hooked his thick arm around me and pulled me right against him and squeezed tight for a second before saying, “Yeah, you’ll do” and letting go. I was so nervous I couldn’t even finish the damned carrots. My beer, however, was long gone. Finally, the guy who’d opened the door moved to the middle of the floor and raised his hand. One by one, the conversations fell quiet. Outside, the sun was dipping on the horizon. “Okay,” the big man said. “We’re all set up for four hunts tonight, and we’ll go in two hour increments. I hope no one was thinking of sleeping much.” Everyone had a laugh at that, and I saw some of the other bunnies glance at the ground. “Hell no!” a man whose arms were both sleeved with tattoos called out. “If this is your first hunt, then let me explain how it works. If you’ve done this before, you know the rules. In each place, there are six eggs hidden for you to hunt for, which means there’ll be six winners for each bunny.” More noise as people clapped or hooted. “If you win in the first round, then you don’t participate in the second. Third and fourth are open. You can’t repeat a bunny, so if you find an egg you’ve already found in a previous hunt, you’ll be asked to trade – except for the last round, where you can try to rejoin a favourite if you want. So if you’re a good hunter, you can score yourself three bunnies tonight.” More noise, more applause, more laughter. “Alright, bunnies, come with me.”

There was much hollering and hooting as we followed the bearded man out the back sliding doors and down to the barn. Once there, he picked up a small basket and handed us each a dollar-store plastic egg. Mine was white, of course, and I saw the others had eggs that matched their jockstraps and bunny ears. The barn was set up with hay bales and lights, and boxes, cartons, old milk jugs – all sorts of places to tuck an egg to hide it. “You guys go ahead and hide them, and then come on out when you’re done.” He went outside. I exchanged glances with the other bunnies. Two of them were off like a shot, walking through the barn and looking around for places to hide their egg. The otter-type smiled at me and clapped my shoulder. “I was the white bunny last year,” he said. “First time, eh?” I nodded. “Yeah.” He grinned, and moved off. Finally, I started walking around the barn. I spied a shelf full of jars where preserves were probably stored, and not really having any idea what else I should do, I leaned down and tucked my egg out of obvious sight on the bottom shelf, behind one of the jars. By the time I’d hidden my egg, only the green bunny was still looking for a spot for his, and he joined me outside a few moments later.

When we were all outside the barn again, the bearded man raised his hand, and the rest of the dozen men come out through the back of the house and joined us outside the barn doors. The bearded man grinned. “Let’s hunt,” he said, and opened the barn doors. I swallowed. There was something charged in the air as the men – all of them large and masculine – moved through the barn, obviously hunting and looking and poking through the nooks and crannies of the space. Amusingly, the green egg was the first one found – by the black man who’d spoken to me earlier – and he held it up and walked out of the barn and stepped behind the green bunny, wrapping both of his thick arms around the slim guy and pressing into him from behind. “Aren’t you pretty?” he said in his low voice. I suppose he just liked the word ‘pretty.’ The green bunny’s jock was obviously showing his pleasure at the turn of events. The red bunny and the yellow bunny were found, and then I watched as one of the men – a blond man with a wide, smooth chest beneath his black leather vest and thick, vascular arms crouch low before the shelves where I’d put my egg. My breath hitched as he reached in and pulled out the egg. A couple of moments later and he was standing right beside me, the egg in hand. “Hi,” I said, my voice wavering a little. He was very tall – I had to look up at him. He smiled. “Hey, boy.” The word ‘boy’ made me shiver from head to toe. I wondered if he was the blue paper match.

In a short time, the rest of the eggs had been found – there was a rising growl of frustration from the men who hadn’t found any, and a brief tussle when the last egg had been found more or less at the same time by two men, but the one with the tattooed sleeves came out with it in hand. “Rooms are upstairs. I’ll ring the bell in an hour,” the bearded man said. He hadn’t found an egg this time, and he checked his watch.

The big blond man who had found my egg put one hand between my shoulder blades, and gave me a bit of a push. I started walking back to the house. As we walked up the stairs, the big blond guy grabbed a backpack without even missing his stride. I assumed it was his. We went down the upstairs hallway until we got to the furthest door – it was marked with a white egg hung on the handle of the door, which was ajar. Behind me, I could hear the other pairs entering the other rooms, and I shivered as I went through the door. It was a spare bedroom, I assumed, given the plainness. There was a bed – a double – with a simple metal railing, a small desk and chair, a closet, and a chest of drawers. There was a small ensuite with a shower, too. I heard the door close behind me, and turned. The big blond man looked at the bed, and nodded. “Get naked,” he ordered. It’s not like I had much in the way of clothing to shed, but peeling off the jockstrap and tugging off my bunny ears made me shiver again. The mask stayed put – I knew that from the instructions – and I watched as he looked me up and down – smiling slightly at my already growing hard-on – and then he put the bag on the floor. “Turn around,” he said. I did, facing away from him. “Stay put, boy,” he said. I did.

I heard him open the plastic egg, and then the sound of papers being shuffled through – I realized he was looking for his slip of paper where I’d answered the questions. But he didn’t want me to know which colour of paper was his – not that I could remember them all exactly, beyond the blue one and a few notable others. A few moments later, he grunted. “Okay,” he said. When I turned back around, I didn’t see the egg, or the papers. “On the bed, boy. On your back.” Again, I obeyed. He walked over, carrying his backpack, and sat on the bed beside me. He reached out and took my waist, shifting me bodily further up the bed, angling me along the length of it, and nodding once. Then he opened his backpacked, and out came restraints. Even this wasn’t enough to tell me which colour his paper had been, but when he pulled out four sets of handcuffs, I swallowed. I could feel my hands shaking as he took my wrists and bound them above my head – a pair of handcuffs on each wrist, attached to the iron railing behind me. When he took my left ankle next and snapped the handcuff around it, I let out a little gasp, and he met my gaze. “You like being cuffed up, don’t you, boy?” I nodded. “Yes.” He leaned forward, and took my hair in one rough hand, tugging it enough to make me gasp. “Yes, sir,” he said. “Yes, sir,” I repeated. He took my other ankle and fastened the last free handcuffs to them, but then surprised me by lifting me by the small of my back until I started to roll backwards on the bed, up onto my shoulders. It took me a second to realize what he was doing – and before I could really parse it, the handcuffs that were around my ankles were also fastened to the metal headboard. My legs were awkwardly bent, my ass just a little in the air, and my head sinking deep into the pillow.

He took a few more moments to arrange me a bit better – he rolled the blanket up under me as a further boost to the small of my back, then nodded – almost to himself – before turning back to the bag. He pulled out a bottle of lube, and no less than four dildos. Two were of sizes comparable to a regular dick and were the usual pink plastic, the third would be on par with one of the largest cocks I’d ever had inside me and was bright red, and the fourth was incredibly big and thick and made of dark black rubber. It was bigger than any cock I’d ever had inside me, that was for sure. I bit my lip. He stripped then, pulling off the vest, his boots and jeans – he was going commando – and the same veiny muscles that he had on his forearms were present in his strong thighs. His cock was proportionate to him – big enough, thick enough, and uncut (a favorite of mine). He caught me looking at his dick and smirked. “Don’t worry, boy. You’ll get yours, but first I want to play with that hole.” “Yes, sir,” I said. He nodded.

He poured some lube on his fingers, and rubbed and probed at my pucker. I flinched at the coolness of it, and he chuckled. He slicked up the first dildo as well – it was the smallest of the four - and then rubbed it against my hole. “You want that, boy?” “Yes, sir!” I said, a little louder than before. He smiled, and started to work the dildo in, asking “You like that, boy?” “Yes, sir!” He watched the dildo go into my hole with rapt attention, obviously enjoying himself as he inched it in slowly, rubbing it, twisting it, nudging it forward and then backward. I moaned when he increased the pace a little, despite myself, and he pushed the dildo in harder. “Yeah, boy likes that, doesn’t he?” I again agreed. He spent a little time with the smallest dildo, but it wasn’t long before he pulled it out and moved on to the second smallest. This time, he met my gaze while he held the head of the plastic cock at my hole. “You like taking cock in your hole, don’t you, boy?” “Yes, sir!” “You like it rough, too, don’t you boy?” “Yes, sir!” He shoved it in, hard, and I threw my head further back into the pillow. After the first dildo, it wasn’t so bad, but it was bigger, and he’d twisted as he’d pushed and I groaned with the sensation of the moulded plastic cock moving inside me. “Gotta get your hole ready, don’t we, boy?” “Yes, sir!”

He fucked me with the dildo for a few minutes more, increasing the pace until I was biting my lip and moaning again. He shifted on the bed, kneeling between my spread legs, and I could see his own dick was hard. He definitely got off on how prone I was, how helpless I was to his toys. The third dildo was a bit more intimidating, and when he pulled the second one out, he pushed it into my mouth. I opened my lips, and he fucked my face with it for a few strokes, before pulling it back. When he did, the slicked up the third dildo – the larger red one – and met my gaze again. “You want it, don’t you, boy?” Again, I agreed. I did. I was incredibly hard now, and my shoulders and legs were burning a little with the uncomfortable position, but I was so turned on. The red dildo burned going in, and he was not gentle with making the whole length fit. He used more lube, but seemed to enjoy himself much more as the plastic cocks got larger. His veins stood out on his arms as he jabbed the dildo in and out of my hole. I was groaning and grunting as he worked my hole with the thick plastic, and his own cock was standing to attention as he worked. “Yeah, that’s a good boy...” he said. His voice was deeper and less controlled now. He licked his lips. “You take it, boy. You take it.” “Yes!” I gasped. “Yes, sir!”

He leaned far over me, pressing down on me and meeting my mouth with his own. It felt less like a kiss and more like possession as his tongue entered my mouth. I kissed him back fiercely, though, and felt him thrash the dildo in and out of my hole with raged rough shoves. I yelped, and he swallowed my cries. He broke off the kiss, and nodded again. He pushed off using my chest as leverage, and I exhaled with a whoosh. He pulled out the red dildo and picked up the largest. My ass already felt sore, and I looked at it with not a little bit of hesitation. He lubed it up, and then slapped it against my ass. It felt heavy. “You take this for me, and you take it like a good boy, you hear?” “Yes, sir,” I managed, though my voice wobbled. He pressed just the tip at my pucker, and I bit my lip, waiting. I tried to relax, but my whole body shifted and arched higher on the bed. He smiled then, and lifted one hand to take my chin. He turned my face back to look at him. “You be a good boy,” he said. I nodded, and he started to push the dildo into me.

I cried out, but he shifted his hand to cover my mouth and his fingers cut off my cry quickly. He pushed, inexorable, not fast but without pause and inch by inch I felt my body open even as I tried to rock back away from the invading plastic. It was so thick, so large, I moaned under his rough fingers. “Yeah,” he said, his voice gravel. “Yeah boy, eat that up.” I bucked, but he pushed it in. I twisted as much as I could, but he pushed it in. Finally, after what seemed like forever, he stopped and I realized I was more full than I’d ever been, and that the largest black dildo was deep in my ass. He moved his hand. “You like that, boy?” My eyes were watering. I was breathing in short bursts, trying to catch my breath. My hole felt stretched. I blinked, looking up at the big blond man. He reached down and gave his cock a single stroke. “Yes, sir!” I managed.

He took the end of the dildo and started to fuck me with it. I groaned and moaned and gasped as he shoved the plastic in and out of me – harder and faster as the minutes went by. My dick, which had softened during the last while, grew harder again when he started to jerk the dildo just right. The angle he’d cuffed me at seemed perfect for him to grind the dildo in and out of my pucker at so many different angles. I was nearly sobbing in short order. “Greedy little boy hole, ain’t you?” he asked. "Yes sir!” I was nearly yelling now. He used the dildo for longer than I thought I could stand. When I wasn’t even able to catch my breath between his pumping arm, he finally pulled the dildo out with a roughness that made me swear. Then he pressed himself between my raised thighs, braced his arms on either side of my head, and shoved his raw dick deep into my battered hole.

“Fuck yeah,” he growled, as I cried out. “That hole is fucking on fire....” He shifted his weight, and his cock was rubbing my insides in a new way, and I could feel the burn from the dildos making every thrust of his dick feel all the more rough. His hands gripped my hair and he fucked my ass hard. It was happening again - I was being fucked raw by a complete stranger. My dick grew rock hard, so turned on. I knew nothing about this man... nothing.... Finally, my ankles and wrists aching, my hole burning around his dick, I felt his pace change, and with a few more rough thrusts he blew his load deep in my hole. He lay on top of me for a moment, his weight a huge pressure, then pulled out slowly, almost carefully. When he leaned back away from me, his fingers were in my hole almost immediately – and he fed me the mix of lube and spunk from his fingers until somewhere I heard someone ringing a bell.

As he uncuffed me, and I stretched my aching limbs and slowly started to rise – both my wrists and ankles had red marks from the restraints – he nodded at me, and pulled his jeans back on. He’d just abused my ass and fucked me raw, but now he was packing up his stuff with more care than he’d given me. I moaned a little when I pulled my jockstrap back on – my dick was still hard. I hadn’t managed to jerk myself off. I wiped my ass with one of a small stack of towels I’d assumed had been left for that purpose. We left the room together, and I saw the green bunny come out of the room with the black man, who hadn’t put his vest back on. The green bunny’s ass was red with handprints. We met gazes, and I wondered if I had the same mix of shame and lust in my eyes as the green bunny did. But there wasn’t much time to think about it. When we got to the bottom of the stairs, the bearded man was back, handing us back our egg – which I assumed the blond and all the other “hunters” had given him, and leading us this time to the living room.

The big blond who’d abused my ass with the dildos and the other previous winners stayed in the room while the bunnies found nooks and crannies in the living room to hide their eggs. I put mine behind some of the books on the bookcase, then turned to look at the men who’d already had a turn. The tattooed man was making a red-haired bear of a man laugh at something he’d just said. The black man was drinking a beer. My blond was eating a burger. It felt surreal. The bearded man rejoined us when we were done, and opened the sliding doors that led to the dining room once we were ready. Then he – and the remaining men – started hunting. There was less of a race to it this time – after all, six of them, six of us – but they were no less eager given that they’d had to wait and – I assumed – listen to the others going first. My egg was found third - by a beer-gutted hairy man who might have been part Italian or Portuguese, given the cast of this skin and the near pelt of hair that covered his chest and arms and most of his neck. I flushed when he held it up, feeling my already half-hard cock returning to arousal. He was exactly the kind of older man I found most attractive – hairy, rough around the edges, and strong. In fact, except for having no gray in his beard or hair, he could have passed for my ex-Daddy bear.

When the other eggs were all found, he walked straight over to me, wrapped one hairy arm around my neck, and said, “Daddy’s gonna eat you alive, boy.” With that we started back up the stairs.

*

Edited by Hotload84
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(Second Egg hunt)...

Back in the room again, the hairy bear wasted no time, and pushed hard on my shoulders the moment we were through the door. I dropped to my knees in front of him, and he undid his jeans, pulling out an uncut dick that was already half-hard. He grinned down at me, his teeth white against the black of his beard. I leaned forward to put his cock in my mouth, already eager, but he surprised me by giving my face a not-so-gentle slap. I leaned back, startled, and he shook his head. “Hang on, boy,” he said, and then pulled the egg from his vest pocket. I’d forgotten. He opened the plastic egg. “Eyes down,” he said. I looked at the man’s booted feet. I heard him shuffle through the papers and then he chuckled. A moment later I heard him snap the egg shut again, putting it on the chest of drawers, and his hand rested on the top of my head. I looked back up. “Open wide, boy,” he said, and I opened my mouth.

He fucked my face for a few minutes, jabbing his dick deep into the back of my mouth and making me gag with every third or fourth thrust, and soon his dick had hardened – he was a grower, and had more inches on him than I’d imagined. My forehead brushed against his hairy stomach every time he really drove his cock into my mouth. His dick was soon wet with spit. My eyes filled with tears, but my dick was rock hard in my jockstrap. He knocked the white bunny ears off my head with his forceful jabs. I was gripping his legs to maintain balance. Finally, after I could taste his precome mixed with the flood of saliva in my mouth, he pulled back, and nodded his head at the bed. “On the bed. All fours, boy. Daddy’s hungry for your ass.”

I rose shakily, my dick straining the jock, and moved to the bed, crawling onto it and putting my sore butt into the air. There was still a slick wetness in my pucker from the blond man’s reaming – the remnants of his lube and spunk – and I wasn’t sure what the hairy daddy would think of it. He climbed onto the bed behind me, and then his bearded mouth devoured my ass. There’s no other word for it – his tongue, his rough beard, occasionally his teeth – he seemed to want to eat me from the inside-out. I bucked against him as his thick hot tongue dove deep into my hole, and his slurping and loud wet noises made me moan. His tongue circled, then speared, then his rough beard was rubbing and scratching at my sore hole – then his tongue again, licking and lapping up his own spit and the mix of lube and cum – then a sudden unexpected bite on one ass cheek or the other. His hands sometimes pulled my ass more open, other times pressed my cheeks together for him to nibble or lick. I’d never had my ass eaten like this before, and I was in heaven – except I was also in hell, because the thing about having my hole assaulted with his tongue and teeth and beard was that it was making me crazy for him to fuck me. “Oh.. please... oh!” I was gasping between the lashings of his tongue. I squirmed, pressed back against his incredible bearded mouth, and twisted under his assault, barely managing to stay upright on my hands and knees. His rough hands massaged, squeezed and groped at my ass, and I could feel the pouch of my jock getting wet with what seemed like a river of spit that was flowing from my ass.

He pulled back just a little. “Please, what?” he said. He sounded amused. “Please!” I gasped, at first only able to think of the word itself, “Please fuck me!” He rubbed a single rough finger against my spit-slick pucker, and I groaned. “Please!” I repeated. He laughed, asking “You think that’s enough spit, boy? ‘Cause that’s all you’re getting.” That made me realize he was the yellow paper. The one where one of the options was “Spit for lube.” I bucked my ass back against his finger, and whined. “Please!” I asked again. He rose long enough to shuck his jeans and boots, spat twice more onto my ass, and then pressed his long dick against my ass. He ground into me with a long, slow spiral as he pushed, and moved first one hand, then the other, to grip the jockstrap where it ran across the small of my back. He started to fuck me in earnest once his dick was buried in my ass, twisting the strap in his hands to tighten the jockstrap and keep a firm grip on me. My mouth opened and I let out a long, low, stream of relief at the feel of his cock inside me. “Fuck!” I gasped.

He grunted, and rode my ass, his hairy stomach soon wet with sweat and pressing against my back with every thrust. He towered over me, shifting his legs and pressing into me at alternating angles, making me writhe and buck beneath him. His grip never lessened, and the daddy’s spit began to wear a bit thin in my ass, burning a bit as sharp sweat and friction took its place. His thrusts grew harder and faster, and the daddy bear began to grunt with each forward shove of his dick. With my hands braced against the headboard now, I pushed back against him, moaning catching my breath between each thrust and feeling his cock in my already abused hole growing thicker and hotter. My head drooped. “You want my load, boy? You want daddy’s seed?” The words were electricity. “Yes!” I begged, “Yes!”

He shoved forward, burying his dick as deep as he could, and blew his wad inside me. The heat of him was once again a flood of relief in my ass, and tears sprang to my eyes as he pressed down hard overtop me, grinding his dick in a circle inside me. He stayed in me, breathing heavily for a few minutes, then pulled out. He let go of my jockstrap and it unwound back to something more comfortable – though the pouch was incredibly restrictive against my rock-hard dick. “Come here,” he growled, and I awkwardly turned on the bed. He was resting back on his haunches, his half-hard dick up in the air, covered in spunk and sweat. “Lick it clean, boy,” he said. I nodded, and crawled to him, putting his cock in my mouth and licking and slurping at his load. He had a strong taste – sweaty, salty, and a thick consistency – and I licked up and down his shaft, surprised to feel him getting hard again as I worked to clean off his cock. When I reached down to free my cock from the jockstrap, he pulled his dick from my mouth and slapped me a second time. I froze. “No, boy, you don’t get to come,” he said. My whole body ached, but I nodded, and went back to sucking his cock. Eventually, still slurping and licking at his now clean cock, the bell rang downstairs.

The daddy slapped his wet dick against my face once, then rose. He pulled his jeans and boots back on – he’d never taken off the vest, and scooped up the egg on his way out. I rose more shakily, feeling cum had leaked from my ass down my thighs, and wiped myself down for a second time. My ass felt used – I was sore, and two strangers had already come inside me. I shivered at what I was doing here, and remembered the daddy bear’s words. “You want daddy’s seed?”

I picked up my bunny ears, popped them on my head, and went downstairs, my dick still hard in the jock, horny and wishing I could just jerk off and find release.

Edited by Hotload84
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