He called me like one hours ago. His voice was sweet, seductive. He called me baby several times. He was driving, certainly his cab across the city. He asked if I was home. I said yes. Asked me if I was ready to be a good girl. I said yes. My heart was beating fast. I never know what to expect from him, all I know is I want to serve him so bad.
- I have someone for you, baby?
- Can you dress up now and... be nice to him, baby? You do that for me?
I couldn't believe it! He was calling me out of the blue to ask me in the sweetest way if I could "work" for him!
- Are you there?
- So? Can we come?
- Yes, I answered automatically, unable to think, just excited.
- Ok. Ten minutes. Dress up and be good to my guest.
- Ten minutes?
- Yes, just your mouth, baby.
He hang up.
I rushed to put on a thong, a red very tiny short and some thigh high socks. I put on some lipstick and was happy with what I saw in the mirror. I was looking slutty and this time I was consciously being whored out by my black taxi driver. It was a mix of fear and excitement I can't exactly describe. Was it a guy he picked up in his cab? A guy he knows? What would he look like? Would my pimp come up with him? Does he do that often? Does he have other "girls"? To many questions were invading my mind while I was standing in front of my whore self reflected in the mirror next to my front door. I dimed the lights.
A knock on my door. My heart stops. I open.
The man standing in front of me doesn't look bad. Around 50 yo, tall, grey hair. He wears a dark blue suit, a tie, and looks a little bit nervous though his pants are already unzipped as he steps into my hall staring past me, like he's inspecting the place. I close the door behind him saying hi. I hear him spit in his hand and he turns back to me stroking his nice semi hard uncut dick.
- Suck my cock.
I go down on my knees and directly swallow his wet dick. It grows and hardens in my mouth as I blow him. I m holding my ankles and sucking him deep, nice and slow. I want him to enjoy the ride. I try to make eye contact but he doesn t look down at me. He stares at the wall in front of him. He moans. I moan.
At one point a take his meat out of my mouth and ask him if he wants to sit down and relax while I suck his thick cock. He doesn t answer anything. Just takes my head with his two big hands and without looking at me pushes his cock inside my face again. From that moment I focus on not gagging, on providing him a soft open mouth for him to fuck as long as he needs to. He ends up like totally riding my face and fucking slowly but firmly, one hand in my forehead pushing me down, the other one on my neck, holding me in a good position for him. The feeling is awesome. I am rock hard in my short as I didn't put on my cage. But I don't touch myself cause I don't know if that may ruin it for him.
Suddenly he fucks my face harder and cums abundantly inside my mouth. He grunts. I moan. I swallow. He goes deeper. I try to catch a glance of his face but all I see as I look up is his belt, his slightly opened shirt on his hairy belly.
- Holy shit ! he shouts as he hits the wall with his hand. - Damn you give good mouth!
I feel his cock softening in my mouth but I still lick it, suck it, kiss it, like I m in love with this stranger and his manhood. He then puts his shirt inside his pants, checks himself in the mirror, his cock still in my loving mouth, before finally looking down on me with a grin on his face, gently pulling his dick from my lips, zipping up his pants which I kiss one last time before he goes out of my apartment.
Before I wrote this story here, I waited for thirty minutes in my thong, fingering my pussy, next to my mobile, waiting for my pimp to call or text me. I didn t expect him to thank me but maybe tell me I ve been good or tell me he would come, too.
Nothing until now.
I know I ve been good anyway. I can't say I'm proud of what I did but at least I am ok with it. I hope he's satisfied with me.
Started the day horny and started looking this morning. I found a hung Black guy on Grinder. He came by my office, pissed on me and down my throat. He just kept pissing, and I had to keep gulping in order to not make a mess on the restroom floor. I thought he would never stop pissing. Then he turned me over and loaded my hole. After work I stopped at a Latin guys house and faced fucked him, spit on him, and fed him my load. After that I hit up a college boy on Grinder, he already had 4 loads in him, so I went over there and filled him up more.
Dom dad here with a jock son who wants to be banged and bred by BBC anon while I watch. Large cocks with large loads wanted. Multiple cummers a plus. Host in hotel. Would like to line up a few guys and schedule. Message me if interested. Can assist with ga$.
I am regularly being fucked hard by a mature hispanic Daddy who turn me on big time. He has trained me to sit down on his cock when I enter his bed room (once in his office) without hesitating, But he is big, and it hurts bad, he likes to spank me and slap me, and he really fucks me for a long time. if I cry he fuck me more and slaps me. when he pull out, he asks me to fuck myself with a 9 inch dildo, to make the cum stay inside me. Once he dreagged me into the shower and pissed on me while I fucked myself with a brush handle. Now he talks about letting a colleague fuck me. he is a small man, but he scares me a bit - he seems really cold, but he knows the I sometimes come to the office to be fucked because when he sees me on the way out, he eyes me and rubs his crotch. Still, the idea of being whored out by my Master is a turn on.
I grew up as a fan of pro wrestling. Maybe it was the theatrics of it all that appealed to me, or maybe the fact that it featured oiled-up muscle guys in skimpy lycra that helped me figure out at a young age I was gay. Whatever the reason, after years of watching it, I decided to get into the business side of it.
For the past few years, I’ve owned and operated a pro wrestling company -- we scout and hire talent, rent the venues, sell the tickets, find sponsors, and hold events. I do this monthly, have a few friends and staff (all straight, as best I can tell) who help behind the scenes, and we make decent money from it in the process. Most of our events draw about 500 screaming, rabid, loyal fans.
Yes, it’s all staged, but it’s a good time, the participants are genuine athletes, and they take it seriously. A lot of the younger ones – usually the ones in their late teens or early 20s – aspire to make wrestling a full-time job, reach the big-time (i.e. WWE), and wrestle in places like Madison Square Garden with millions of people watching them on TV. For these younger guys, they’re willing to sacrifice a lot to get a shot. They train hard, and they’re in the gym every day – and their bodies show it.
Some of them really will do anything to get their shot, which is good for me and for them.
Quickly, a little about me: I’m 51, white, 6-2, 190 lbs., graying hair, decent shape with decent looks and a thick, meaty cock. I came out about 15 years ago, and a poz leather daddy acquaintance of mine converted me about 5 years ago. I wasn’t chasing, and I hadn’t planned for it to happen, but once Daddy had me on my back with my legs over his shoulders, I felt powerless to stop him from breeding me. I came down with the fuck flu, and after briefly going on meds, I gave them up within a few months. I assume my viral load at this point is sky-high, which is how I intend to keep it for a while.
After going off meds, I felt a transformation sexually: I went from being a vers guy with an average sex drive to being a power-hungry bareback top who stops at nothing to breed cute young guys (my weakness is the jock, college-boy type with a daddy fetish). The power of infecting a young, healthy jock is more of a rush than any drug out there. They usually either assume I’m neg and/or insist on a condom, which magically either breaks, slips off, or never even leaves the wrapper. Oops.
I figure I’ve pozzed several of these naïve boys so far, and it fuels my need to find more. It turns out that the business of pro wrestling is the perfect place for it.
When booking the wrestling talent for my events, I try to feature a good mix that will please the crowd and sell tickets: usually a couple of bigger, brawler types; maybe a couple of females; one or two silly, quirky types; and a few of the young, fit, boy-next-door gym bunny 20-somethings to appeal to the gays and the girls. Variety is good for ticket sales.
Some of the wrestlers know I’m gay, but most probably don’t. I just don’t talk about it, and I don’t do much to make it obvious. I’ve also steered clear of being overtly flirtatious at my events, although I’m sure some of the wrestlers have caught my eyes lingering a little too long when they’re changing clothes, and I’ve been known to occasionally give away a free ticket to the particularly hot guys standing in the ticket line. But most definitely, none of them know I’m poz and carrying a potent, toxic virus ready to be shared at any moment.
One of my favorites on the roster is Cody. He’s a naïve country boy who lives about an hour away, and he loves working with our company and often comes to me for advice on how to improve himself and make it to the big-time. I’ve earned his trust by working together for a while, and I’ve felt almost like a father figure to this kid since I’ve started working with him. He’s 19, single, straight, and clearly proud of his tanned, athletic body. Probably half of his pics on social media are either shirtless or gym selfies. At 5-9 and roughly 180 pounds, he looks god-like in his tight wrestling trunks, and even better post-match when he’s dripping sweat. His brown hair, amazing green eyes, and smooth, tanned, toned body make the girls and gays swoon. He’s the rare type who makes clingy spandex look good.
Cody is desperate to work full-time as a wrestler and get his face in front of WWE scouts. The fact that I actually have connections to a couple of those scouts is a big, big plus for my exploits, and I made it clear to Cody that if he plays his cards right, I could put in a very good word for him and get him a tryout in front of some big-time names. I could make his dream of being on TV come true.
After seeing him wrestle and lusting after him at one of my recent events, and seeing how his ass gloriously filled out his tight black trunks (with a white jock strap peeking out the sides at times), I decided to see exactly how badly he wanted that tryout and my recommendation. I asked him to come to the venue early for the next event so we could discuss his future. He accepted eagerly.
As some of the crew was setting up the ring and getting things in place, Cody arrived at the venue with his gym bag in hand and found me near a set of bleachers. Wide-eyed and freshly pumped from a gym session, he was eager to hear my advice on furthering his career. We walked to the locker room (still empty for another hour or so) and stepped into an adjacent storage room, where we found two chairs. I arranged them so that we’d be facing each other, and we began to chat. His gold, mesh gym shorts and white t-shirt showed off his tan muscled legs, broad shoulders, and athletic chest, and I tried to not stare.
Besides, I’d be seeing him naked within minutes.