[Breeder] The Birthday Gangbang 4: Terry

[TheBreeder]

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He came late to the party, that night. An hour in? An hour and a half? At the orgy I wasn’t wearing a watch, to be honest. Neither was anyone else. All I know is that a dozen of the twenty-eight people present at start had already left by the time Terry walked in.

Of course I noticed him. I knew what he looked like. Even if I hadn’t, he would’ve been (in his own words) the only dark-skinned boy invited that night. As he stood chatting with our host close to the front door, our eyes locked from across the room. I had just fucked a load into Colby’s ass and was pulling out. A group of guys had clustered around the bed to watch us fuck. I had to back my way out between them to break free of the press of their flesh against my own. I watched Terry nod as our host said something to him. He smiled, and responded politely. His body and head faced our host, but his eyes and attention were solely on me.

Even though I’d just shot a few moments before, I felt my dick swelling again. It gets like that, in groups.

Of all the guys I’d talked to before my birthday gangbang last month—which, I must again stress, was neither a gangbang nor took place on my birthday—Terry was the one I looked forward to meeting most. He attracted most of my attention among the several guys trying to contact me ahead of the party simply by barraging me with X-rated photos of himself.

In the morning he’d send me a shot of himself in the shower, hands pressed against the tile, water pouring down his back and between his butt cheeks. In the afternoon, I’d get a shot of him bent over in the office men’s room, slacks down, tie scraping the toilet as he managed to take a butt selfie in the cramped quarters of his stall. At night he’d send me shots of guys fucking him, of his muscular butt clutching at big cocks like my own. I’ve got to have your big white cock in me, he’d text, as he showed me shots of himself shoving enormous pink dildos up his hole. Or, You need to rape this little black hole.

Stuff like that gets my attention, all right.

I made my way over, not even blinking as we continued to lock glances. “Hey,” said our host to me, when I reached them. “There’s someone I’d like you to meet. Rob, Terry. Terry, Rob.”

“Hi,” he said in a soft voice.

“Hey.” I nodded at him. Then I pulled him to me, claiming him as my own.

I remember unbuttoning Terry’s shirt as the two of us made out by the kitchenette doorway, but I never really learned how his clothes came off. I think our host removed his shirt and pants for him as we stood there, kissing as if there was no one else in the room. All I know is that he was naked by the time our tongues disentangled and I said, “I didn’t think you were going to show.”

“I was held up at work,” he whispered. His voice was low and shy. “I was afraid you’d be gone by the time I got here.”

“I’m right here, baby,” I whispered in his ear. My lips planted soft kisses up and down the side of his neck, then under his chin. “Right here waiting and waiting to fuck you.”

There’s a moment I always look for when I’m with a bottom. It’s the moment that comes after I’ve removed his clothing and laid him down on the bed, when I’ve stroked his skin and made him accustomed to my gentle touch, when I’ve sent shivers up and down his spine with my kisses and my lips against his soft skin. Then I’ll move up to his ears and whisper something—something sweet and intimate and just perfect for him and him alone. My reward is to feel him sigh, to feel the release of his muscles as they soften from tense to relaxed. To feel him give in.

That’s the moment I know he’s mine, and mine alone. It’s the moment I know I can do anything I want.

When I murmured those words into Terry’s ears, I felt the change beneath my palms. He melted in my grasp like chocolate softening from my body heat. That’s when I guided him to the sofa bed. Other men were coupling on the thin mattress. When they saw the two of us approaching with intent, they slid over to make room.

He was already lubed. He must’ve done it before he’d left his apartment. His butt was in the air even before his head hit the mattress; his legs wrapped around my midsection to pull me in. My cock was hard and still covered with the juices of another, but he didn’t care. He just wanted me inside him.

When I drove inside, his eyes popped wide open. “Oh fuck,” he said aloud, in a normal volume. Amid the soft whispers and groans the other men were making, it sounded like a shout. “Oh, fuck.”

“You need me to stop?” I asked.

“Noooo!” he exclaimed. “I knew that big dick would feel good inside me,” he breathed. “I just didn’t know how good.”

His own inches were erect and lying flat on his stomach. He was a good seven or so—large, but not super-sized. I felt his ass muscles clutch at me. “Let’s fuck then,” I told him, and drove in.

It wasn’t a romantic fuck. It wasn’t sweet, or gentle, or soft. He’d made the mistake of arousing me too much in the days prior, and now was when he paid the price. With his ankles on my shoulder and his ass in the air, I made the fragile sofa bed shake as I slammed into his hole. My cock was large and red and angry. I’d already blown my first load by that point, so I had plenty of time before the second. I intended to make it count.

“Oh shit,” he said, when ten minutes into the slam-fuck I flipped him over onto his knees. His face smeared over the bed; his lips were pulled by friction into a droopy, stunned expression. “This white boy really knows how to fuck,” he slurred.

“Damn straight this white boy does,” I growled, happy to refer to myself in the third person. The vigor of my thrusts had Terry sprawled over the little double bed. Already we’d pushed one fucking couple off. I didn’t give a shit. All I could think about was the need to get my sperm into that hole of his. I planted a foot on the bed and continued to drive my hips against his bubble butt. His hole was so puffy and distended from my use that I was pulling it out along my shaft whenever I withdrew.

Again, I didn’t give a fuck.

He came before I did. The only reason I was aware of it at all was that the majority of it squirted down onto my left foot. I heard him gasping and crying as squirt after squirt of the hot staff came shooting out. Whether or not he wanted me to stop after he ejaculated wasn’t any of my concern. Getting my load in was all I cared about. And it came soon after, as I grunted and growled and my nails left half-moon marks on his black ass where they dug into the flesh. Animal. That’s what I was when I came in him. A fucking animal with foam coming from its mouth. That’s what all the best fucks are.

After the last of my body’s tremor’s subsided, I stood there with my cock still buried up that pucker. I blinked several times, then finally said, “You know you deserved that.”

“Yes.” His voice was exhausted, muffled by the mattress.

“Fucking cocktease.” I pulled slowly out. My meat withdrew in a slick, mathematical curve.

“I’m real sorry,” he moaned, his ass still up in the air. I stepped aside so that some other man could take my place. He didn’t even seem to notice when a smaller, less rigid slab of meat took my place. He just looked into my eyes from his posture on the fuck bed, his stare still as bold and hungry as it had been when we’d first exchanged glances from across the room minutes before. “But I’m not that sorry.”

That made sense to me. I pushed some voyeur off the mattress and leaned against the sofa’s back, legs spread, so he could nurse my cock and clean it off while a second and third man fucked in my sperm.

I just hooked my fingers to cradle the back of my head, watched, and waited for my second go-round.

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