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10 Years to Destruction


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“Stop fucking flinching. Take it like the worthless faggot I always knew you’d become.”

I could barely see straight through the fog of my high. It wasn’t anything hardcore yet that night, but the alcohol and edibles, paired with some fresh poppers and 8 loads earned deep in my cunt had me lost in pleasure and submission. There I was: ass up in a motel, taking anonymous loads… and it was him forcing my hole open. I knew his voice. It was the man who started it all. It was David. Again.

10 years ago I was a condoms-only college kid with a fantasy to submit. And then he showed me what it meant to really get used. What it meant to give myself to a real man. What it meant to regret it. And here he was - 8.5 thick inches pulsing deep inside me while he wrapped his hands around my neck and choked. 

10 years ago I wouldn’t have recognized the shell of a faggot whore on that motel bed. Hell, I barely recognized him that night. As this beast of a man tore my hole open yet again, I realized just how far I had fallen. I was leaking in my cock cage, begging, and crying. But to him? I was just an object. No different than the object he’d raped 10 years earlier. And we both knew it.

“Cmon, faggot. Put your mouth around the barrel of the gun. I want to play a game.”

10 years earlier, and I was 20. It was the summer between my sophomore and junior years of college in Los Angeles, and I’d grown more and more comfortable with my sexuality. I was a good looking guy: nearly 6’0, Italian blood, dark features, hairy and tight body. I could fuck any college kid on that campus, but it just didn’t quite scratch that itch. I needed to get used. Or at least thats what I fantasized about when I jerked off.

And “getting used” seemed to be getting darker. Rough fucking had become verbal fucking. Light bondage. Slapping. Pain. I needed it to be kinkier and kinkier to get me off. I found myself falling down the rabbit hole, searching for boys crying, having forced orgasms, and — and it made me hard to even type it into search engines - getting raped. 

I wanted it. Or I thought I wanted it. It all sort of blurred together as I busted orgasm after orgasm to the kinkiest and roughest porn I could find. But I also knew that it wasn’t realistic. Real rape wouldn’t be ‘fun’. Real rape couldn’t be planned. Real rape was just a fantasy. But that didn’t stop me from being a tease. And thats when David first came into the picture.

I’d met David online. He was clear from the outset: he didn’t want my name, he liked to fuck holes as objects, it would hurt. I did not matter to him. And I busted a load that first night we chatted - a huge, thick load. And then I quickly signed off. 

I did to David what I did to all these guys: I teased. I played out my fantasy to earn my own orgasm. Days and days. Countless orgasms. He took me deeper in those conversations, deeper than I knew I could go.

 

He told me he whored boys out. I came.

He told me he came from seeing fags cry. I came.

He told me he beat a man nearly to death. I came.

He told me he wanted to do it again. I came.

 

This went on and on. Until the night that I let my 20 year old sex drive get the best of me. I agreed to go to his place. He told me it would be rough, but that I’d be fine — that he knew so many of my desires were just fantasy. He told me he got it. He told me I’d enjoy myself - that we’d have some fun. And I trusted him. My dick was leaking, my hole was pulsing, and I was speeding down the 405… until I was there. Heart racing, dick hard, skin moist from nerves, adrenaline and sweat. I was there, knocking on his door.

 

That knock would play out in my head for years to come. That knock was the start of a slippery slope — a slope that would ultimately lead me 10 years later, blackout in a trashy motel, throating a 9mm pistol, effectively destroyed no matter the rules of his game.

But that night 10 years ago? I just thought it was going to be some quick, rough fun.

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Awesome story man, brings me back simultaneously to feeling horror and horny remembering a night i spent drunk, high and helpless while a 40 something surfer-dude that i chatted with on a4a raped me on his waterbed. I didnt think much of it when he told me he had called one of my school/poker friends to come drive me back to campus, despite the fact my "friend" showed up less than 2 minutes later, wearing just a white cotton undershirt, and see thru bball shorts revealing a huge hardon. I kind of remember him laughing with the older guy who said something about me being a "lightweight" and their explanation why he was there turning out to be unnecessary because i was so out of it i almost didnt realize the older guy had cuffed my arms to the bedframe before my friend raped me much more wildly than the host had. When i sobered up my friend was fucking me for the 2nd or third time and the older guy was getting me to do lines of coke off his dick. I tried to get them to stop but the older guy said they were almost done and left me with the guy i thought was a buddy, who suddenly became a sweet passionate top telling me he dreamed of my lips and kissing me between requests that I spend my nights with him from then on. I had a girlfriend and while i had fantasized about him and checked him out a lot at poker night, i was really freaked and scared for my secret to come out so i just kissed him and begged him not to cum in me when he admitted he had already cum at least once in me that night. He did pull out and reluctantly shoot on my face since i was begging him to, and before i could open my cum drenched eyelids, he had disappeared into the bathroom and 5 mins later the 40yo dude came in, untied me and told me my friend got a text from HIS girl friend and took off. Btw, my friend from schoom never ackowledged our fuck session at poker when we hung out except when he would get bombed after his baseball team lost or he had broken up with his girl. Thats when he would show up at my dorm room and beg me to suck him off. Instead i would jerk him while he laid on my bed or  the floor while working his legs back til i could get to where i was eating his bubble butt. I even managed to pop my cock head into his ass for a stroke or two after he stopped telling me it was exit only the night he found out he was being benched for a few games til his hitting average went up. I came on his ass while he complained about whatever i had used to snap his bubbleband (a term he often used when refering to popping the anal cherry of a girl or apparently his own tight sphincter) and he went back to his dorm room with cum leaking from between his butt cheeks down his grey sweats, because i kept his white athletic supporter briefs with his load in them. 

But back to the night of the rape, I stuck around the older guy's house for an hour or so while the drugs and booze wore off and when i told him i was not going to return and i thought it was best he stop talkig to me online, he told me he thought Id been in on this mutual fantasy rape scenario since the other dude said i was and knew my a4a profile despite being careful to ensure my photos were faceless and my description was vague until i was sure i didn't know whoever i was planning to meet. He apologized over and over until i found myself saying it was okay, but really i was far from okay, still in shock since i didn't have any previous knowledge or desire to be force fucked especially by someone who might out me. Once he got me to swear i wasnt going to run to the police, he began convincing me that I had actually loved what happened, or at least enjoyed it enough that i was okay chatting with him online.

Not sure if he was lying about what he had been told butas a peace offering he gave me some amazing weed and some coke and usb drive full of gay pornos he had downloaded for me, all of which featured tops like him and my friend (but in groups of 5-10) bare gangbanging guys like me, who all seemed reluctant but by the end of each video, the bottom would always say they had never been so turned on. This was my introduction to treasure island and a few similar studios and thats what ended up getting me to come back to his place a few more times over the next 2 yrs at school. At first he and i would tag team these hot bttm twinks from my school or the other, bigger university about 30 mins away, but every night with him ended with me bent over the couch or with my legs in the air in the back seat of his suburban, taking his raw cock down my throat or up my ass, tho i never let him cum in me, no matter how much he wanted to. By the following x-mas he had worked it out with my baseball poker rapist friend to come spend a night there since the dorms were closing for the holiday and he sidnt have anywhere else to sleep. He agreed when the older dude said i was also out of options and had to stay there as well.  This time he was the one who ended up high and tag teamed, even admitting he had set it all up the first time, and while i enjoyed being balls deep in his built baseball butt, i found i was conditioned to want the 40 yo surfer dude who lived hundreds of miles from a surfable wave. So he took me downstairs and got me up in a make shift sling andkept me high on weed and poppers and booty bumps that i wasnt aware of, until he got me to agree to let him seed me...twice. When my former poker pal sobered up enough to come down to the basement and see me in the sling he laughed and told me he always thot i was a bitch bottom boy, but he hardly thot it was funny when i refused to let him have a turn fucking me and told the 40 yo that the only way i would let anyone fuck me ever again, was if he made sure my poker pal didnt get to fuck me no matter what. Wish i knew where he was these days so i could show him how much it hurts the day after a proper forced fuck.

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