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A Weekend at Club 80...

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I was laying on the ground, chest heaving, sweat pouring off my body, leaving a sweat angel on the concrete floor of the gym. The sun had heated the roof and heated the interior of the facility to almost unbearable levels and the Brisbane humidity had made sweat inevitable, even if sedentary. Never mind the intensity of the CrossFit open workout I had just completed. My partner, Brian, looked on appreciatively just a few meters away. My shorts had soaked through during the workout revealing my jockstrap and the edge of my biohazard tatt peaked out from the waistband of my shorts. My hand absent mindedly grazed my nipple moving the piercing as my cock gave a small lurch. Every workout these days was an exercise in sexual tension because of the piercings and the friction that intense exercise caused.

Brian kept me almost constantly in a chastity device that he had had manufactured for me - it was super comfortable and was designed to be worn long term - but it was also designed for him to bring me exquisite pleasure, exquisite pain or to punish me as he saw fit. Our relationship had grown and developed over the three years since it had begun. He was older than me by five years, he being 30 and me being 25. We had met when I was 21 and had begun our relationship when I was 22. It was a fiery start - some may even say that a relationship begun as ours was was doomed to fail. Not to put too fine a point on it, he drugged me, raped me and tortured me for a whole weekend and we ended up being lovers…

Oh, my name is Matthew… Matty as most people call me. I am a landscaper by trade so I have a body honed by many hours of hard physical labour. Yes, there is some serious time put in at the gym, too, but my physique is as much about power and functional strength as it is about aesthetics. I spend a lot of time outdoors and shirtless and so I have a great tan… I used to wear boardshorts but Brian had decided to give me some fairly tight, short shorts that showed off my legs to maximum effect. I got a bit of a ribbing from the fellas at work, but they all knew I was gay as did the guys at the gym.

I had closely cropped hear - number one on top with a skin fade and stubble along my jaw. I know I am a hottie - but Brian keeps me in check and so I am not arrogant about it.

Brian and I have a really good arrangement at home. On week days, I am Matty… I am good at what I do, I am respected at work, I am one of the fittest men in the CrossFit affiliate where I am a member, I have been to the CrossFit Regionals in Austrlia and competed at the CrossFit Games in America. I have a wicked sense of humour and a good group of friends. I am an avid fan of Australian Rules football and am a good cook. I’m a Marvel fan more than a DC Comics fan; and prefer Star Wars over Star Trek. A regular dude. At home, Brian and I are mostly equals. We go to dinner together, we go to movies, we have a good social life. Admittedly, Brian contributes more to our relationship financially than I do, but that is because he is wealthier than I am and can afford to do so in order for us to live a lifestyle to which he was accustomed when we met and to which I am now accustomed thanks to his generosity.

Most weekends, we spend time again either at Brian’s beach pad up the coast; or at home. A couple of times a month, we revert to our dom/ sub personas that were revealed when we had our first weekend of passion and our roles are defined - I am subservient to him. But, for the most part, we leave those roles behind - it is a healthy way to live and has given our relationship the longeivity that many similar partnerships lack.

Brian and I are also very good at compartmentalising; and we restrict our partying to the times where we are in our Dominant and Submissive roles. It keeps us grounded and prevents us from allowing “that bitch, Tina” as Brian refers to crystal meth from dominating our lives.

Brian walked over to help me up, breathing in the smell of my sweat deeply as he did so… I could see the lust in his eyes as he looked me up and down… an almost possessive stare that let know that the weekend was going to one of those weekends where I was subservient to him and what he said was law.

We had not partied for about three months (we only did so four times a year max) and we had been planning the weekend for some time. Easter and ANZAC Day had fallen conveniently one week apart this year, so I had taken three days leave which would give me ten days in a row where I did not have to present myself at work ready to work hard physically. For those who are not aware, ANZAC stands for Australian and New Zealand Army Corps, a term used ot refer to those who servied in WWI in the Gallipoli Campaign in Turkey. ANZAC Day is a national day of remembrance in Australia and New Zealand that broadly commemorates all Australians and New Zealanders "who served and died in all wars, conflicts, and peacekeeping operations" and "the contribution and suffering of all those who have served."

We were flying to Melbourne on the night before Easter, staying there to the Easter Monday and then flying home where we’d have the rest of the time to recover. We had booked a room at The Gate House, a gay BDSM establishment made for rough sex. Each room had a mezzanine floor with a bed and the ground floor had a sling and was made for partying. Next door was Club 80, Melbourne’s premier SOPV and the site of many a debauched weekend for both of us.

We headed home after our training and quickly showered and headed to the airport to begin our weekend.

Edited by grubbysubby
corrected a couple of spelling errors
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8 minutes ago, takingdeepanal said:

Nice start! Continuation of your previous work from the opposite perspective?

Thanks! A story from Matt's perspective a few years on... Sorry, edited a few paragraphs as you replied... ? 

Gawd, I need to get better at proof reading! There are still heaps!!!

Edited by grubbysubby
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55 minutes ago, grubbysubby said:

Thanks! A story from Matt's perspective a few years on... Sorry, edited a few paragraphs as you replied... ? 

Gawd, I need to get better at proof reading! There are still heaps!!!

Always happy to proofread for you if you don't mind a slight delay in posting.

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Part 2…

Travelling with Brian was always an experience. He was a massive exhibitionist, which usually involved me showing more of myself than I would have personally liked. He would always get me to wear something that would signal to those in the know that I was into piggy sex and that I was a sub. On this occasion, I was wearing flip flops (thongs to the Aussies) and a very loosely cut Treasure Island Media vest. It was one of those ones that left a huge area from the armpit to below the waist exposed on either side. This was paired with loose baggy shorts that sagged a little on my slim hips. I had a Treasure Island Media cap on to complete the look. I actually feel more exposed in these clothes than when I am naked.

Even clearing security was a challenge - my piercings and chastity device were usually ok going though security but occasionally I would have to explain my hardware to a smirking security guard. Fortunately, on this occasion, I was clear. But the nervousness would inevitably leave a trickle of sweat down my chest, on my hairline or pits and I almost always caught the appreciative stares of women and more than a few men.

We got onto the plane; Brian always took the aisle seat and I always got the middle… just one of the perks of being the sub, I suppose… As I placed our baggage in the overhead locker, the fella sitting at the window looked on appreciatively as my vest rode up my torso, giving him a glimpse of my treasure trail. His eyes widened when he saw my biohazard tatt and I saw him adjust hsimself as he looked at me.

He also saw my other tatts... When I lift my right arm, I have a Treasure Island tatt and when I lift my left, I have a scorpion - both on my rib cage.

I sat down in the middle and Brian sat down next to me, making sure to place his arm squarely on the arm rest, forcing me to lean slightly into the guy to my left.

We made some small talk as I noticed he was wearing a CrossFit themed t-shirt from a competition I had done the previous month and we hit it off almost immediately. Brian got up to use the rest room and my neighbour - whose name was Scott - lifted his shirt to reveal his own biohazard tatt.

“What’s the deal with your mate?” he asked me.

“He’s my master,” I replied, hoping this was not going to get awkward. Scott smirked at me and told me he’d be speaking to my master later.

Brian returned and sat down with a mischievous expression on his face and I knew something was up. He reached into his backpack and took out a bottle with golden liquid in it and handed it to me. It was warm to the touch and I instantly knew what he had gone to the bathroom for.

“Sip it slowly,” Brian instructed me and I opened the bottle and took my first swig. It had a bitter, chemical taste to it and I knew he had probably laced it with tina. It was the easiest way to transport party favours. Dilute them in a small amount of water in a bottle. Then, all you need to do is add some more water or add some lube to use it. Airport security never checks the bottles.

Each time any of the airline staff walked past, I would screw the top on tight and place the bottle in the seat pocket. All I was fucking short of was one of the staff finding out what was going on.

Half way through the bottle, Brian handed me a small satchel and told me to go to the bathroom myself. I placed the bottle into the seat pocket and went to the bathroom.

As soon as I locked the door and opened the satchel, I saw the quad mix injection inside. I always hated doing this bit myself. I knew Brian wanted me to use the whole dose, so I stuck the needle into the middle of my cock, drew back the plunger to make sure I was not in a vein, and depressed the plunger. 

The satchel also contained a few wires that I know would plug into the chastity device. My chastity deveice is similar to this one, but it has some special modifications:


The device has a urethral sound that goes down my urethra (thank God not all the way to the bladder - that would be awkward and I hope Brian never gets one of those for me to wear in public!) It attaches to an ass lock that goes all the way into my arse and then expands, giving me a very full feeling and keeping almost constant pressure on my prostate. One wire would plug into the sound and the other into the arse lock. I applied the wires and tried to hide the evidence as best I could.

With shaking hands, I put all the supplies back into the satchel and started to make my way back to my seat.

The Tina-laced piss had started to affect me and I was sweating lightly… again, wearing that damned vest made every damned drop visible and I know people would be able to smell me if they got too close.

I looked towards the section where Brian and Scott would be waiting for me and I saw them deep in conversation. “This cannot be fucking good,” I thought, but there is little point to complaining.

Just before I sat down, Brian and Scott got up to go to the bathroom themselves. I sat down, stewing quietly. I knew something was up. Brian grabbed his backpack from the overhead locker and handed a small device to Scott and then one to me.


Click the link to see what it was - a fucking remote control, linked to a power box into which the two wires would plug. Some fucking random stranger now controlled the electro stimulation on my dick and in my arse. “Fuck… this is hot,” I thought. I trusted Brian - he knew how to press all my buttons and he had only got better as our relationship had progressed.

I felt a light buzzing and knew Scott had turned the power up on the power box. It certainly had the range to be effective even from the toilets.

I reached into the seat pocket to grab the tina laced piss but could not find the bottle. Thinking that an air steward had found it, I fought a wave of panic and a fresh wave of nervous sweat.

After about ten minutes (which felt like a fucking lifetime), Scott returned.I had to stand up to allow him to access his seat. As he sat down, I saw him take the remote out and start to crank out the voltage. Soon I was squirming and fought not to cry out as I took my own seat. Between the tina laced piss, the electro and the very public unravelling of my mind, I was sweating steadily. I lifted my cap and saw the damp stains around the brim and knew that anyone who looked closely would see I was perspiring by this stage quite heavily.

Brian returned (I had lost count of how many minutes he had been away because I was too occupied with not moaning with all the attention my cock and arse were getting.

After Brian sat down, he handed me a bottle and, with relief, realised they had taken the bottle when they left earlier. Relief was short lived, though... I looked at the liquid swirling around. The bottle was full again, and I could see the unmistakable swirl of cum in the piss - definitely two loads of cum, and more piss from both of them.

Scott smirked at me as I took a swig. “Down it,” he ordered and I finished the entire bottle almost immediately.

Brian took out his phone and typed in the notes, “that was one point!”

Holy fuck - I was going to be wired by the time we landed. Brian reached up and closed all three air vents above our seats and Scott and Brian both leaned in towards me. I had started to fly a little and my body temp had definitely started to rise.

As I mentioned, this was pressing all my buttons.

Brian reached out and took the remote from Scott. The remote has a “boost” button which increases the power for one second by 25%… he pressed it and was all I could do not to yell out.

The tina had affected my dick but the quad mix was working hard to counteract that. I had felt my dick try to harden. I winced as the sound was pressed deeper into my urethra as my cock hardened and it soon reached the limit of what the chastity cage would allow.

Each time I moved, the electrodes would move slightly, too, which, as anyone with any experience playing with electro knows, can be quite uncomfortable.

After about twenty minutes of this kind of stimulation, Brian took the control back from Scott and turned off the electro. I sagged back in relief. I leaned forward and knew that the back of my vest was saturated. Thanks to the design of the damned vest, I knew that the waist band of my shorts was saturated as well and the ball cap I was wearing showed signs of some fairly heavy sweating too. Getting off this plane was going to be embarrassing. I only hoped I had enough control to get through this without humiliating myself…



Edited by grubbysubby
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Part 3…


I know I was not exactly wired… but my head was spinning and I was sweating up a storm. I think it was a combination of the one point of that bitch, Tina, the fact that I had only recently had an intense workout and was usually sweating a few hours after I trained anyway, the fact that a random stranger was using me (via the electro) in view of a plane full of people and the nervous anticipation of what was to come (I knew how imaginative Brian could be…)

The net result was that I was starting to smell my own pits and I knew it would not be long before my fellow passengers could too. I was silently willing the plane journey to end quickly.

“Welcome to Melbourne where the local time is 730pm. Please remain seated with your seat belts fastened until the captain has turned off the seat belt sign. If your mobile device is within reach, you may switch it on now.”

“Thank fuck for that,” I thought, "I can get off this plane!” Brian stood up and passed my bag to me. He also handed me another bottle, this time full of water and told me to down it as soon as we were off the plane. Scott had the remote again and started to crank up the power as I started to stand up. It was only as I stood up that I realised my condition. My vest was almost completely saturated - it was actually dripping in places (thank God it was black), along with the waist band of my shorts and my jock. The front of my shorts were also soaked thanks to the prodigious amount of pre-cum I had produced during the journey and my nostrils flared with the starchy odour emanating from my groin. I stood up, convinced that there were people staring. I held my bag in front of me willing the people in front of me to hurry up.

“Let me help you with that,” said Brian, ever helpful, and relieved me of my bag - the only covering for my bulge and my sweat and pre-cum soaked shorts. I was blushing furiously. The cabin manager was looking at me with undisguised lust and Scott and Brian both winked at him as we departed the plane. Brian handed him a card with my number on it as we walked past.

I ducked into the nearest rest room to try and get myself under control. I downed the bottle of water. It was bitter and I knew I had ingested yet more chems. We headed to the baggage claim and awaited our bags. I did not know this at the time, but Scott knew some of the baggage handlers and had arranged a small surprise for me. “Brian and I will wait for you outside,” he said; and with that, both Scott and Brian disappeared out the terminal.

Almost as soon as they were gone, a guy in Qantas uniform approached me. He was gorgeous - blond hair, granite jaw line with a neatly trimmed beard, respectable bulge and the smell of someone who had just completed an honest day’s work. “Excuse me, are these bags yours?” he asked me, gesturing to a couple of bags he had in his hands. I checked them out, my stomach doing somersaults, and admitted they were mine.

“Please come with us, Sir,” he instructed and I was suddenly surrounded by two other men, also in uniform.

They took me to a room off the main terminal. There was a table with three chairs and the three of them sat down - leaving me standing. Off to the side was a long counter.

The chems I had swigged down about ten minutes prior had started to kick in. “You seem very nervous and you are sweating, sir,” observed one of the men. “Please open your bags.”

With trembling hands, I opened Brian’s and my bags. Brian's bag was full of leather and fetish gear - harnesses, chaps, some wrestling singlets, jock straps (most of them worn and unwashed.) There was a box of nipple clamps, some more electro kit, duct tape, rope etc. It was massively humiliating to unpack everything and lay it all out on the counter for the men to see.

My bag was even worse. I had my safety boots, socks and work shirts that were well worn. The whole room was dominated by the odour of unwashed socks and work shirts. I had a tool belt festooned with lewd sex toys - dildos, butt plugs. I had an assortment of gags, hoods, tiny leather shorts and a riding crop and leather flogger.

“I think we need to make sure there is no contraband on your person, sir. Please strip.” As this was said, all three stood up and made sure I was in no position to refuse. I lifted the vest off my body. One of the men produced a plastic cup and squeezed the vest, collecting almost a full cup of my sweat as he did so. My shorts and jockstrap were next and were also wrung out - collecting a cup and a half of nervous sweat. The three men whistled appreciatively as they circled me. They started to grope my body. I was frozen in shock. I suddenly regained my composure and started to protest. “You can’t fucking do this,” I started to say but was cut off by one of the men. “Do you want us to tell Brian and Scott that you were uncooperative?” they threatened. I’ve got to admit, I sagged with relief. I actually started laughing. This was a set up.

The men grabbed my jock strap and forced it into my mouth. They grabbed the duct tape and taped it in place. They then retrieved some of the rope from our bags and tied me to the table on my back. My head hung off the edge and was at perfect height for someone to fuck my throat. They also used the rope like a makeshift sling so that my arse was totally accessible.

I heard a snicker as the first went to finger my arse, only to discover the butt plug that formed part of my chastity device. They removed the plug and were kind enough to use plenty of lube and I groaned as I felt my arse stretch around the massive tool of the first guy to fuck me. He soon settled into a steady rhythm. My mouth was not unoccupied for long and the starchy, pungent tool of the second man was soon invading my throat. He too set up a steady rhythm and I was soon choking on his meat as he fucked me.

The three alternated over the course of around 90 minutes and I ended the encounter with two loads from each man.

I stood up, I knew I looked a sight - I had red eyes and a tear streaked face from the face fucking I had endured and I know there was a load or two leaking from my abused hole.

One of the men re-inserted the anal lock into my arse and gave my balls a thorough squeeze as he did so.

“We can’t let you back out in the terminal in that condition” one of the men said and handed me one of the wrestling singlets from my bag and my soaked jock strap. I sighed and squeezed myself into the garments - conscious that they accentuated every ripple and bulge on my body. I was dreading going back out there. 

I packed the bags again, trying to be as quick as I could. I realised with horror that the security guard had chosen a singlet that had the arse cut out of it, so I was going to have to leave my torso naked and use the top half of the singlet to cover my modesty at the back, but leave myself totally exposed elsewhere.

The security guard attached a clamp to each nipple, smilng cruelly as he did so.

Soon I was ready to leave. One of the men handed me the cups of sweat and instructed me to drink them… I was turned on and disgusted at the same time. I knew that non-compliance was not an option.

The whole episode had taken almost two hours and I had no idea where Brian and Scott had disappeared to. I picked up my phone and the text message from Brian told me the parking bay where they were waiting in Scott’s car.

I grabbed the bags and hurried out the room. I knew I must look a sight - half naked, sweating, soaked wrestling singlet, making my way through the airport. I knew that the security guards had been a set up and that I was not in any danger of being busted by security for real, but I was crapping myself none the less. Thank god it was now after 10pm, so the airport was fairly empty.

For those who know Melbourne airport, the car park is quite a hike from the terminal. I had certainly had a few cat calls and wolf whistles by the time I reached the car. I knocked on the trunk of the car and Scott opened it for me. Brian got out the car and inspected me with a smirk on his face. He handed me two 600ml bottles of piss.

“I am going to get back into the car. Scott will then lock the doors. Strip to your jock, drink the piss and knock on the roof three times. Scott will then wait 90 seconds exactly and then we will unlock the doors.”

My cock lurched and I groaned. Brian got in the car and locked the doors. I stripped off the singlet, placed it in the trunk, closed the lid and started to drink the acrid piss. It was mostly cold, they had obviously collected it over the whole time I was being worked over by security. I gagged a few times, but managed to get it down. I rapped on the car roof three times and waited. It was the longest 90 seconds of my life and I had a couple of people stare as they walked by. Thank fuck Australia is the sort of culture where you see all sorts of ridiculous antics, usually the result of bets and pranks gone wrong. Nevertheless, I was relieved to finally get into the car...

Edited by grubbysubby
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46 minutes ago, FFRubbrPIG said:

WOOFF!! Loving the new reversed story.

Thanks mate - fee free to offer any suggestions! Not that experienced in this story writing caper!

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Part 4:

We finally got to Collingwood - the suburb where The Gate House and Club 80 were located. It was 1030pm on a Friday night and the streets were buzzing. Scott eventually parked the car about three blocks from the venue. Brian orered me to remove the chastity device and then ordered me out of the car.

We already had a bit of an audience; but an almost naked wired guy sweating rivers being ordered out of the car by two men had attracted even more attention. Scott looked at the cum that had dribbled out of my well fucked arse and leaked onto the car seat and ordered me to bend over and lick it up. He walked up behind me and delivered some stinging blows to my exposed arse with a table tennis paddle that he had retrieved from God knows where. It stung like a motherfucker but I was not about to cry out. I think that this just emboldened him and he had soon given me 20 good swats with the paddle on each cheek. My cheeks were certainly red at this point and he encouraged some of the lookers on to cop a feel or have a few swats themselves.

Fortunately for me, there were no takers. But there were more than a few camera phones being used to record my humiliation.

Brian handed me a leather harness and got me to put it on and then gave me the wrestling singlet which, again, I had to wear with the top half concealing the cut away bit which exposed my arse. "Take the jock of before you put that on, slut," Brian ordered. Naturally, I complied, to loud gasps from the audience we had amassed.

The Treasure Island Media cap completed the look.

“Scott and I are going to get some party favours,” Brian calmly informed me before handing me the bags from the trunk and directing me on my way. “Log onto BBRT when you get to the Gate House,” was Brian’s last instruction before the two drove away.

As I mentioned, Brian is an exhibitionist and there is a certain hotness to it; but it is not something I seek out. I know that this is why Brian makes me do it so much. I think my entire body was blushing scarlet as I walked to The Gate House. The entire journey was spent with guys and girls making lewd comments and propsitioning me as I made my way through the busy streets. I saw plenty of camera phones being used to record my progress. Ordinarily, the humiliation, the fear if being caught by the cops, or being recognised by someone I knew; as well as the fact that I dislike that sort of exposure, would result in my cock being soft and probably a bit shrunken... But, thanks to the quad mix and the fact that my traitorous cock was now free of its prison, had my cock as hard as steel and leaking like a faucet. The front of my singlet tented obscenely and was a sticky, starchy mess of precum and I knew that anyone who had seen me would know I was a hopelessly horny slut. I had a few of the more bold onlookers sidle up to me and cop a feel of either my dick or my arse or generally molest me whenever I was at a set of lights waiting to cross an intersection. Fortunately, by the time this happened, the crowds had thinned out and I was near my destination.

Eventually, I walked into Club 80 and checked in and made my way to the room.

I know what Brian expected and I unpacked the bags, laying all the paraphernalia out to have easy access. I then logged on to my BBRT account. True to form, Brian had put up a quick connect under his profile, so I knew he would be vetting any respondents…

“Seeking dominant tops and vers guys to help me work over a trashed smooth sub slut. Slut is in room 2 at The Gate House. FF, WS, CBT, TT, BDSM, kink preferred.”

He had sent me an email instructing me to drink two litres of water, put a blind fold on, leave the door open and hop in the sling.

It was not very long (or maybe it was, I had no concept of time) before the door opened and I heard footsteps walk into the room. “Good to see you followed orders, slut,” said a voice I recognised straight away as Scott. “Thank fuck for that,” I thought. I love the thought of some random using me in the sling but really do prefer to have my master or someone else I know to be in the room to look after me.

Brian secured my arms and legs to the sling and I knew I was now helpless to whatever they decided to do to me.

I know I looked super hot… Brian had paid for me to have laser hair removal from the neck down; so I was totally smooth. I had a tattoo around my hole, the scorpion and TIM skull on my ribs and the biohazard tatt on my pubes. I was deeply tanned except for a very skimpy speedo tan line and the multiple piercings marked me as a real pig.

Brian walked up to me and swabbed my arm. I have incredible veins - the combination of good genetics, low body fat percentage and heaps of manual labour and time in the gym - and the veins in my forearms look like a road map. Brian found a vein easily and slipped the needle in, drew back the plunger and then pushed the contents into my blood stream. I know that Brian normally reserves the biggest slam for the first one and I felt my chest tighten, the ringing in my ears, the metallic taste in  my mouth and the coughing fit that follows. I was absolutely flying. My entire body craved abuse and I knew I just needed to be used.

As I was blasting off, Scott had aimed his massive tool at the entrance to my hole and pushed through any resistance in one smooth thrust. Even with the tina coursing through my veins, I could feel it was a big one and his 00 gauge PA was making me feel every thrust. A loud, protracted moan escaped my lips as he thrust into my hole. Despite the stretching my hole regularly recieved and the stretching it had recieved earlier in the evening, I felt every inch of the monster invading my hole - and the PA was adding to the sensations in my arse. Scott eventually bottomed out, and I could feel his dick pulsing in my hole.

He settled into a rhythm that had me gasping. He was fucking me like a jack hammer. I love getting fucked by young, dominant, well hung men. They can go for hours. I’d soon learn that Scott could cum multiple times. He fucked me hard for about fifteen minutes, altering his speed and angling his thrusts so my arse was always guessing. He knew how to angle his thrusts so that my prostate was getting a working over, too, and I was moaning and babbling as he fucked me. “Here comes load one, cunt,” he growled and he slammed into me and stayed there as his entire body shook from what must have been an enormous orgasm.

I must say, I envy guys who can actually feel the cum shooting into their arse. I have no such luck. But I could feel a wetness in my hole as a result of the load Scott had shot inside me and it must have been massive. He started a slow thrusting in an out of my hole. I could feel that Scott’s cock had softened slightly but as he worked his cock in and out of my hole and kept up a litany of abuse - telling me what a slut I was, how much he enjoyed using my cunt and how he was going to find a train of hung tops to brutalise me - he started to harden.

The workout my arse and prostate had received had resulted in my cock burping out an almost constant stream of precum throughout the whole scene and my pubes and lower abdomen were a mess of dried and sticky pre-cum. I was sweating thanks to the tina and I knew that the entire room smelled of sweat and sex.

As he continued to fuck me, he grabbed a hold of my cock. It was slick from the presum and he used the natural lube to work his palm over the head of my dick. I jerked and spasmed in my bonds at this fresh onslought. He then worked my dick, eliciting more moans from me as the ladder piercing on my dick was manipulated. I was in sensory overload. I wondered where Brian was. I need not have wondered for long.

I felt Brian position himself near my head and he spat into my mouth and then started to fuck my face. I loved the set up of the sling at the Gate House - it was angled so that my mouth was also available for use and Brian soon had me choking on his meat as Scott fucked me.

Scott and Brian had set up a good rhythm between them. Scott would push the sling away from his body until his cock had either escaped the confines of my arse or the head was still just trapped inside and then let the sling go so I was impaled on his girth in one smooth motion. Each time he pushed me away from him, Brian’s tool was shoved down my throat and each time he let the sling down, I was able to grab a quick breath. I was moaning around Brian’s tool as my arse got the reaming of its life.

“Here comes load two, bitch,” said Scott and he slammed deep into my arse and his body shook. As he slammed into me, he had effectively pushed my mouth back onto Brian’s dick. As Scott’s body shook, I felt Brian shooting his load straight down my throat. I had the taste of Brian’s cum on my tongue and, again, the wetness around my hole was evidence enough that Scott had blown another respectable load up my arse.

He withdrew is cock and walked around to shove it into my mouth for me to clean it. I choked and sputtered as his dick invaded my throat. The PA was certainly adding to my discomfort. I could taste a mixture between my arse juices, his cum, the cum of the others who had fucked me earlier and the salty heady taste of sweat and piss. My cock lurched at the thought that I may even have been sucking the residue from earlier fuckings too.

At this point, Brian walked over to my arse.

Some cum had dribbled out of my well used cunt at this stage, and he used his hand to scoop some up and feed it to me.

I jumped slightly as another voice rasped out, “Fucking hot,” and started to run his hands over my body.

“Welcome to the party, boys,” said Brian and I knew the fun was only going to get better...

Edited by grubbysubby
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FFuck yeah loving this story.....this partied up slut really getting his inner slut pig released ....fuck yeah, great writing

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Keep this going, its fuckin hot and the build up is good. Perhaps more frustration for our 'willing' victim

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5 hours ago, grubbysubby said:

I know that Brian normally reserves the biggest slam for the first one 

Wonder what would happen if the first slam was just a warm up?

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