Dealer takes it all.

[houbtmbtch]

My faggot brain is working overtime anticipating an extraordinary session. My mouth is watering and my ass is twitching.  More PLEASE and soon!

[SlampaBay]

Aww we fuck me and not in a good way!!

This story got me so boned and leaky and ready to shoot. But that's all he wrote.   ?

[pozcubsf]

I want this dealer.  Great story.  More please 

[crawford912]

Fuck, this is perfet. I need more of this story. And I need to meet that dealer.

[pacoman]

Fuck yes!!!! I’m that kind of bottom!!

[Guest Kag]

More please

[pigwest]

So here is a revised/updated part one followed by part two.  I have no idea where to take it after part two, suggestions welcome! Thanks for yalls patience..

Part One, Updated.

I’ll just get right down to it, cuz that’s what we’re here for right? So my meth dealer is fucking sexy/sleazy/I’d fuck him when I’m sober/I drool over him when high kind of confident macho bro that knows it. I’d guess he’s right around 40 but his demeanor and look is younger, as if he’s not maturing past his early 30s. He works out plenty, and while he's definitely always high, he handles his drug well, so well that he’s made it a part of his swagger. This ups his sex appeal 10 fold for party faggot’s like myself.  Now, he’s definitely straight because he always has these hungry, territorial bitches hangin on him when I come to pick up. But, like most straight guys who know they're hot, hung, and have an inflated ego (false or otherwise) he teases the fags shamelessly. Whores for attention, and I’m a sucker for an attention whore.

It’s Friday afternoon and I am over at his place to pick up for some weekend plans I have brewing. I know he’s horny and in a mood because he is shirtless and wearing these navy blue gym shorts (why is it always gym shorts?) that he sags, showing off some nice furry crack and obviously no underwear. I’ve seen these shorts numerous times but it dawns on me just now that if he didn’t sag them so much they’d only fall to about mid thigh, peculiarly short for such a bro. In any case, his fat cock with its generous mushroom head flops visibly around in them when he saunters towards me, his muscled ass stretching the worn navy nylon in the back, and a few holes show hairy flesh beneath. Without fail, he always manages to bend over or squat at least once each visit in locations that are blatant appeals to my obvious faggot desires.

Sure, he knows that I know that he knows that I’d get on my knees and beg for it if he allowed me the opportunity. What he doesn’t know are all the diverse, well practiced and extreme ways he could extract pleasure from me. It is this knowledge, this skilled and indecorous depravity that allows me to barely maintain my confidence around him. I was sure that if given the chance and motivation I could blow his mind by getting him to blow his load in 3 minutes or less, changing his life forever. The fucker sure gives me a run for my money though... 
He knows I don’t use consistently and that whenever I come to reload that I’ve been sober at least a week if not more.  Over time I’ve noticed that he always watches me real close when I take those first few bong rips he offers me. It’s the look of curiosity, disgust, and arrogance on his face observing me transform from composed business-casual gay to sweaty, needy, chemwhore in 60 seconds flat.

I just can't help it. That bitch Tina immediately hijacks my brain, silencing any self control, dignity or hesitations and ignites an insatiable hunger, a pathetic need from my true self… My eyes (and my kunt) dilate, my cock twitches, and I salivate from both holes and my cock all at once. Unconsciously I rub my inner thigh and readjust my cum swollen balls and swelling cock. I know that I'm staring at him, at his muscles as he flexes his arms ripping the bong, the size of his hands, and then my eyes following the massive cloud he blows purposely down onto his crotch. The perfectly timed twitch of his cock through the swirling smoke, a trap I immediately realize when he snickers and my eyes snap to his leering back at me. Without breaking eye contact he leans forward, legs spreading wider (those fucking gym shorts!) and passes me the bong.

“Here ya go man, best shit I’ve had in a while. Been making me wicked horny all day. Take a couple good rips off that while I weigh you out.” I don’t even hesitate or don’t break eye contact till he smiles and looks away to go about our transaction. Torch clicks, crystal melts, chamber fills and I suck that bong like the glass cock it is. He watches me exhale a thick cloud even bigger than his and whistles. I’m already power lunging my 3rd rip when he eases back into his chair, folding his beefy arms behind his buzzed sandy blonde head and exposing some ripe pits. He slouches more, legs spreading further, crotch pushing forward even more clearly framing his swollen dick print and huge balls.  He continues leering while I suppress a whimper  as I exhale... even more slowly this time, letting the smoke ooze from my mouth while meeting his domineering gaze. At this point I don't really care that he's smirking down at me, in fact it does exactly what it’s meant to: makes me want him, to submit to hum, helplessly falling deeper into his well practiced thrall.

Now, as an unwavering, no reciprocation necessary, worshiper-of-cock kind of cocksucker, I have no problem dropping to my knees and servicing any man who knows how to put my grateful holes to good use but in my experience (or my assumptions) not many straight men really know about us faggots and/or just aren't interested. This guy though? I’d bet my left nut he knows exactly what to do with me. I pass the bong back to him and it’s then I realize there’s no one else in the house for once...just him and those fucking gym shorts with that big old dick print snaking down his thigh and some ripe fucking pits. Usually, I come in, give him cash, smoke a few hits and then leave, but this time he has invited me in, sat me on his couch across from him and is casually getting me twisted bong high.

“So Cassandra thinks you’re a faggot” he states, Cassandra must be one of the territorial bitches I’ve seen on hanging around on occasion. “She says ‘your kind‘ occasionally come into her club, closeted fags… they’re still trying to play it straight in front of their bro friends but they’re awkward, never make eye contact with her or the other girls, never want lap dances and are always eager to tip big and leave early. Any dude who acts like that at a strip club sounds like a fag to me. You ever had that experience?” He more insinuates than asks.

I finish my rip and clear the oversized chamber, holding it in for a second and respond while exhaling. “No actually, I embraced my faggotry at a young age so I never had to ‘fake it.’” The word faggotry comes out in a big swirl of smoke I aim right at him. “I knew what I needed but it wasn’t until I was on my knees in front of a man for the first time when I was fourteen that I understood my purpose in life.” I pause for a moment to let that gratuitous over-share linger in the smokey haze around us. “More often I’m the fag those bros call when they leave your friend’s club. All horned up, buzzed, and looking to use a hungry hole or two that will gratefully service them with out all the emotional bullshit their women make them go through.”

Hell, if he thought he would catch me off guard and shame me into…whatever he had in mind, he thought wrong. My unapologetic response shocked him for a moment as he coughed and sputtered out his cloud before recovering his cool. He looked at me dead on checking to make sure I wasn’t bullshitting him, and then smiled.

“So after Cassandra told me this, I did a little research. You ever been on Tumblr? Had never even heard of it but goddamn the shit on there opened my eyes real wide. Only had to search two key words I felt described you pretty well: chem faggot.  I admit I had no idea…no idea this was even a thing.” He blatantly adjusts his cock which is obviously swelling now.  “What really got me going is the realization that faggots exist to worship and service men like me and I bet you’ll do whatever the fuck I want.”

The fact that this last part was a statement and not a question made me quiver and I averted my eyes naturally down towards his feet.  He picked up on this right away, passed me back the bong and said, “Finish that faggot. I knew you were a homo but this? You’re fucked. I can tell you’re about to loose your shit just being in my presence and today is your lucky fucking day. And for what I have in mind, I want you all ready to go. Then you can show me if you faggots are worth a real man’s time.

I never hit a bong so deep. At least four massive back to back rips till the bowl was emptied. The room was hazy with not only smoke, but the unmistakable scent of man: musk and a bit of after shave all electrified with the sparks of domination and submission.

 

 

[pigwest]

Part Two

“I don’t feel like doing all the work so I’m gonna let you beg for the mere opportunity to serve me.”

I gaped at him briefly, then sheepishly, almost embarrassed, I slid off the couch and crawled across the filthy floor to his feet. I bowed my head low between his spread legs, eyes cast down but spine straight with core engaged, hoping he would interpret this body language as submissive yet proud. “Please sir. Please allow me to worship you however it pleases you. Please. I beg you for the opportunity to be used as your personal slave, servant, holes, whatever, however…just please allow me to…please, sir, please use this pathetic faggot in any way you like, you are the reason I exist, sir.”

He sat there for a moment, absorbing my desperate declaration of servitude. I couldn’t see his face but out of my peripheral I could tell his cock definitely twitched a few times. He laughs, a deep belly laugh that slowly makes its way up to a smug chuckle.

“Well fuck me running. I just got myself my very own faggot. Kinda feels like winning the lottery except ....

He chuckles again to himself as he leans forward so his mass is towering over me, my head still bowed low between his legs at his feet, marveling at the amount of shards in his carpet...because...meth. He sparks his torch and takes a long luxurious rip off his bong, my kunt twitches. He exhales a massive cloud that seems to envelop me completely. I close my eyes.

SMACK

“Pay attention faggot, always. You live to serve men right? Well you live to serve me now and my servants are always on point, if you’re good enough I may even really get you on point. But first things first. Let’s see how well you do with this.”

He leans back in his massive club chair, more masculine than ever before, slouches and spreads his legs so his fucking gym shorts ride up freeing a beautiful 6” half-mast cut cock and two huge, shaved, low hanging balls from the leg of the shorts. The world around me, and my place in it cease to exist; only this man and his manhood remain. I rapidly experience the perfect Pavlovian response: eyes dilate, mouth salivates, adrenaline pumps, attention focuses laser-like on his crotch and before I can even realize it’s going to happen, I whimper.... A pathetic, hungry little bitch kind of whimper that I’m betting he’s never heard any woman make when he whips it out.

Quietly, almost under his breath, “Fuck. Yes. Faggot...this is,” he says, pulling the crotch of his shorts more to the side, showcasing his swelling cock and balls with his big knuckled hands, “your destiny. I need you to...no, you WILL worship me because that’s what you do. Prove yourself, cock sucker and take both my cock and balls down your throat without crushing my balls or cheese grating my cock. I don’t care if you can breath or not, prove your skill and worthiness.” I whimper again and move up towards his cock, opening my mouth almost drooling on his chair.

“Hold up,” his massive palm squarely grips my entire face, “smoke this first.” He hands the freshly packed bong down me and I sit up on my haunches. Surprisingly, he puts the bong to my mouth and lights it for me. 

“Suck this bong like your gonna suck the last dick of your life.” I inhale slowly and deeply. He keeps the heat on the bowl and I don’t want to be rude and let his shit burn so I keep sucking, faster now until my lungs are maxed and burning….my head spins, heart pounds, my cock strains out copious precum. He hands me the bong as I finish my rip and as I start to exhale, before I can even flinch, he jams four of his fingers into my mouth, two from the left on bottom and two from the right on top. I look up at him confused until I feel him applying pressure. 

“I bet I won’t have to stretch your face as much I do with my other bitches but I always warm up the kunt I’m about to fuck, get it nice and wide and wet so it can take all of me without trouble.” Then, not gently, he pulls my jaws in opposite directions, stretching my mouth open past its natural limit. He uses his remaining fingers to massage my tongue and tease my throat making me salivate even more.  He spits directly down my throat. My eyes water. 

After a few delicious minutes of this, he pulls his fingers out of my panting gape, wipes them in my hair, takes the bong back and growls one simple command, “Worship.”

#wip I’m as crazed, pathetic, high, lost, found,  and dickmatized as I’ve ever been (and I know it) so I relish the moment as long as I am able.  Leaning down, putting my face into his beautiful cock and massive balls, I inhale deeply. It’s better than poppers.  Another whimper.  Then I lick the underside of his balls, first one, than the other, teasing his flesh as I work around to the front. He moans out a guttural “fuuuuck.” 

Encouraged, I greedily suck his entire sack into my mouth trying to swallow them whole.  My tongue works the base of his cock and his taint while I suck all the sweat/man smell I can get, lewdly slobbering everywhere, being who and what I am. 

In a natural pause, “take another rip faggot,” putting the freshly loaded bong to my mouth. Another brutally long and deep inhale. 

Finally he pulls the bong away and puts his massive hand over my mouth and nose, sets the bong down with his other hand and then grabs the back of my head and pulls me down to his cock, now fully 8.5” hard.  

“I don’t want to see any smoke until my pubes are up your nose.” Again, I involuntarily whimper. The huge rush has my esophagus opened wide ready to gulp oxygen and feed my amped up system. He has other plans. Hands on the back of my head he guides my mouth on to his cock.  In
one fail swoop I slurp his delicious veiny-smooth dick of death right down my throat, blasting what smoke was left in my lungs out of my nose into his pubes as ordered. My reward was him groaning and grabbing the back of my head with both hands, I inhale as much as I can preparing for whats coming. Throat relaxed, his hands grip tighter as he starts to fuck my face kunt like a teenager in heat.

“Ho. Ly. Fuck” he said between thrusts. “I guess I’ve never had the pleasure of a real cock sucker before. And you’re not even fighting back! Fuck!” I seize the moment to maneuver one, then both balls into my mouth with my tongue. I was in heaven, face kunt completely full, owned by a fat cock and balls, molding my mouth kunt to his liking. 

“Fuck you faggot!” He groans and just looses his shit pounding his new kunt.  Knowing one wrong move could cause either of us unpleasant injury, I do my best to relax and breath when I can.  The pounding continues and I lose track of time, sort of how one does on a long train ride, hypnotized by the rhythm of the tracks. Except this was an extremely cloudy and aggressive ride, precisely the kind of ride I was born for. 

My neck is aching, I am sweating, and my jaw is getting sore. But these are all normal for a passionate cock sucker and trivial compared to the multiple “fag-gasms” my face kunt experiences thanks to his glorious cock. I can feel him getting harder, straining against the curve of my throat. Still in his two handed strong hold, he yanks my head backwards, mid fuck. I am immediately crestfallen and fearful I’ve hurt him some how. He laughs when he sees this written all over my slimy red face.

“Don’t worry faggot, you’ll get a whole lot more of this cock, you didn’t have anywhere to be right?” Not that he was really asking me but I reaffirm my submission by panting a response.
“Faggot is exactly where it needs to be, sir.” 

## Part 2 
He hands me his bong and a sack of rocks, “Pack that bowl and don’t stop sucking clouds till I say so.” 
As I numbly fumble with the obscenely full baggie, he gets up and dead bolts the front door.  He turns around as I spark the bowl and his shorts fall to the ground.  My eyes inhale his full glory as my lungs fill with smoke. He‘s one of those who look better naked: bigger, proportionate, powerful, manly. Somewhere in my brain I know this perception is altered because I’m on my knees and high as fuck, the faggot vying for full control, pathetically shivering with a need to serve, to be used unyieldingly.  I’ve consciously surrendered my will and body to him, I'm hoping the drugs will hasten my subconscious in the same direction. The faggot cuts off my analytical thinking and I'm praying like a whore in church that he extracts every twisted ounce of pleasure his superior man psyche desires.  My cock is twitching with the pangs of my faggoty needs... and I crack.  Though I know I shouldn't speak the words come tumbling out.
"Please sir, please.... fffucking faggot...chemed up whore kunt....begs you, begging-need to be used-to serve-just please, fuck, fucking, fuck use your faggots holes...anything I’ll do anything-for you-hard....without restraint...(I’m now in a full grovel at his feet, arms stretching forward toward him, knees spread wide with my back arching my kunt up, jerking with hunger).., I'll take-eat-suck anything you allow me to have, please, fuck, fucking break your filthy faggot....*whimper* make me yours I beg..."

SMACK

"SHUT THE FUCK UP. I DONT NEED TO HEAR YOUR VOICE EVER AGAIN UNLESS I ASK FOR IT! You got that, faggot?"

I shoot precum when he says this. I look up into his eyes with a mixture of premature devotion, submission, and pleading then bend all the way down and kiss his feet.

"Damn fucking straight. You really are a pathetic excuse for a man, fuck you AREN'T a man.  You're just a tool in a man's body for Men to use....oh shit.  Now I see...understand what you are and where you fit...” he laughs to himself, shrugs and with a sadistic smile continues, “...and I give zero fucks about you, what you want, or that you're even a human.  Fuck, you're less than human. You're just faggot. Holes."   

A thought flashes across his face and I swear his cock jumps. "Fuck, why not, might as well make it real clear."  He gets up and disappears into the kitchen for a minute.  I dare not move, still face down ass up on the floor, whimpering.  

Then his feet suddenly in front of me, "Look at me, faggot."  As ordered I look up and he grabs my face with his massive fucking hands pulling it just so. 

"I always like to label what's mine,” he says, leaning in gesturing with the fat marker he grabbed from the kitchen around my face. I respond by involuntarily oozing more precum onto his carpet. He flips the cap off with his thumb and makes the first strokes. “Especially around tweakers, that way if they fuck with my shit there’s no excuses.”  With that he uses the industrial strength marker and writes across my face, from ear to ear, in big, thick, heavy letters, F A G.  Smirking, he spits in my faces back hands me, yells for me to turn around and present him my checks which I enthusiastically do and he writes some more across my two cheeks.  

Whatever marker he is using is serious shit because the smell is worse than any popper I've had and my skin is burning.  It hurts so good.  He finishes marking his property and then two commands, "Bong. Cock." 

My eyes snap to his massive glass dick, and then his massive cock as I hand the bong up to him and gulp all of my reason for living down my throat in one go.  He moans in to the bong as he melts the freshly added crystals and sucks a long and slow milky rip, expertly nursing the bong. 

"Look at me fag, suck in through you nose." Even with his cock buried 8" down my throat I can still breath around it when I relax. He exhales a mesmerizing, undulating cloud down his fuzzy chest, ripped abs, treasure trail, right into my face.  

I see my future in that cloud. As it slowly oozes towards me I feel the last vestiges of resistance start to fade.  I no longer see myself as a semi-professional man functioning in society….I see a faggot, born to worship and be of service to men, at the mercy of their whims, only fulfilled when owned and being used for their pleasure.  I deeply breath in his cloud, it gives me life and renewed purpose.  Submitting, surrendering, relaxing, the remaining inch of so of his cock slides in my throat and I bury my nose in his fragrant pubes.  I have one loud resonating thought….”home.”  

His cock pulses to a new level of hardness, my relaxed face kunt gladly bending to its will.  He must see or sense my surrender.  He leans down, blowing another massive fucking cloud into my face. 

“Are you my faggot, faggot?” he asks genuinely.  I look up, sheer pathetic pleading and gratitude smeared all over my face and nod and whimper.  He sneers, flexes his cock, and sparks the torch for another rip. “That was whole lot easier than I thought it was going to be.”  This comment barely registers in my brain as his freshcloud, his will envelopes me more thoroughly than before.  Then, surprisingly, he grabs my head pulling his cock a few inches out and pushes a bottle of poppers hard against my nostril while expertly closing the other.  The thought registers for a micro second that this is not the first time he’s done this...and the next millisecond I’m instinctively, purposefully huffing the bottle numerous times. 

“Damn! I guess you like these then, huh faggot? They’re like a faggot superfood....now show me how just how desperate you are to be my property and suck that cock like it owns you...” 

The poppers are good. “Oh shit, really good!” I think. My world is buzzing and spinning almost too intensely for a moment and I sit back on my haunches and take a few, crazy eyed lungfuls of air. He must understand what is going on because he doesn’t reprimand me for taking his cock out of my mouth. 

Rolling his eyes, he hands me the bong already filled with smoke.  I hungrily suck it down while melting another fat rip, filling my lungs to their max and holding it.  I hand him back the bong, grab the poppers and take two quick whiffs, my eyes focused intensely on his fat, veined up, swollen headed, dripping 8.5”.  In one fluid motion as the popper rush comes on, I lean in and lewdly slurp his cock down my open and eager throat, briefly glancing up at him for his approval. He flashes that sneer I’ve already started to crave.  Dismissively, his eyes close and head falls back, his hands firmly grip his new face kunt as I suck his balls into my mouth, my nose bottoming out in his pubes.  

He starts to fuck. I cease to exist as I know myself.  My awareness of the world around me fades and I am no longer an autonomous individual...the cock filling my throat, stretching, digging out it’s new property is my everything. A deep visceral sigh/moan washes over me as I completely surrender to the drugs, the faggot, his cock, him...him and his needs are my entire universe...his penultimate hole for use, unyielding.  

[deathstick4boys]

That was definitely worth the wait bro! I look forward to part 3 with the enthusiasm of a fanboy waiting for Avengers Endgame. Well done!

[HunkeBBBotm]

Hot my cock dripping   Great story

[Neverenoughcum]

Damn, I wish I could be as fortunate as him, to have a dealer that wants to use me as his personal fag.  Maybe even get lucky enough that he wants me at his place when a lucrative buyer shows up that he offers his fag to his customer to use as a bonus. 
 

I can’t wait for the next chapter....

[pigwest]

More in the works. Hopefully a Christmas/New Years gift. Thanks for the support. 

[Guest]

...hoT AF! It's 22MAR24 and am newer on BZ but no one's been reading this story since 2020?

[partying.hard]

Dealer sex is fierce

[Trainingwheels]

22 hours ago, partying.hard said:

Dealer sex is fierce

Partying hard…why do you think that is? What’s your best experience?