gangbang Birthday Obedience

[Guest]

I was gearing up for my 21st birthday when my boyfriend—Daddy, as I call him—told me he had something “special” planned. He’s 49, roided up gorilla with the hairiest chest and body, a deep, low voice, gaze that melts me on the spot, and the thickest, uncut 8” cock that makes my eyes cross. The kind of man whose natural musk sticks in your nose and whose words rewire your brain. The only thing he told me was to be showered, jock-strapped, and ready at 5:00 PM sharp. No exceptions.

I hate surprises. I really do. But Daddy? He knows exactly how to make disobedience feel like a missed orgasm. So, naturally, I obeyed.

By noon, he texted me:  “Hope you’re getting ready, boy. Tonight’s the kind of memory your hole won’t forget.”

I stared at the message. My throat dried. My hole twitched. I texted back a simple:  “Yes, Daddy. Ready and waiting.”

At 5:00 PM on the dot, I stood by the door—heart racing, body buzzing, wearing only a cropped mesh tank top and a snug, barely-there jock. When the knock came, I flung it open with a grin… only to find that Daddy wasn’t there.

Instead, six men stood outside. Two I recognized—his friends. Both tall, hairy, gruff, and always ready to treat me like the toy I am when Daddy gives the green light. The other foour? New. One was a towering Black man with broad shoulders and a thick silver chain hanging between his pecs. Another, a densely furred Latin bull with a beard that could scratch sin into your skin. Then I had spotted this middle eastern stud who had already had a bit of fun with me in the gym showers a few times before. And then the last guy I couldn’t place, but he was this ripped daddy, silver hair, massive hands and a bulge that I could tell was already pulsing.

Before I could speak, one of Daddy’s friends grinned and stepped forward.

“Happy birthday, boy,” he said, cupping my chin.

“Your present’s here. Now be a good boy and get on your knees.”

I hesitated only long enough to smile. Then dropped.

The moment I hit the floor, rough hands pulled me further inside. The door shut behind them with a heavy thud. Jackets hit the floor. Belts came undone. Cocks—fat, thick, dripping anticipation—were pulled out like weapons at a ceremonial sacrifice.

And I was the altar.

Daddy and I have an understanding. I’m his. He shares me. Sometimes with one other man. Sometimes with five or many more. Sometimes while he watches, jerking off in the shadows with a smile. And always—always—with my enthusiastic, filthy smile. I’m a slut for men, but daddies the absolute most. Especially ones who take what they want.

One of his friends tugged my head back by the hair and dragged his massive, uncut cock across my lips. I opened wide, already leaking, already throbbing in my jock. The other slipped behind me, yanking my cheeks apart and spitting down my hole.

“Daddy said you’d be ready,” he muttered, voice thick with heat. “Said you’d be dripping for us.”

“I am,” I gasped. “Please. Use me. This cunt is yours!”

And that’s exactly what they did.

Mouth, throat, hole, hands—I was filled. Stretched. Commanded. Praised and degraded in equal measure. My gag reflex surrendered early. My moans turned into choked gasps as cocks rotated in and out of my body. One man slapped my cheek while I sucked another. Another whispered in my ear that Daddy wanted me broken in before dinner. That he wanted to taste other men on my breath.

The Latin stud bent me over the couch and slid into me with one long, aching thrust. I saw stars. My back arched. The Black bull filled my throat from the other side, each thrust of his hips burying himself deeper down my gullet. I drooled. I whimpered. I thrived.

These weren’t casual fucks. These were daddies with purpose.

The two men I knew—Marcus and Reed—watched like connoisseurs between rounds. They took turns fingering me, tugging on my jock, whispering filth into my ears while I got spit-roasted by the others.

“Your Daddy wanted you ruined,” Marcus said, stroking himself. “He said you could take it. That your slutty little hole was hungry.”

“Yes…” I whispered, breathless. “Please don’t stop…”

Sweat dripped off their chests and pooled on my back. Every thrust, every grunt, every slap of skin made my body sing. They weren’t gentle. They were experienced. Confident. Cruel in that worshipful way men get when they see how much you love it.

They each took their turns, filling up every inch of me. Spitting on me. Shoving my face in their ripe, sweaty pits. Massive feet pushing down on my head as they double penetrated me over and over.

I didn’t know how long I’d been used. But by the time the Black bull grabbed my hips and drove in with a deep, rumbling growl, I knew he was close. The Middle Eastern daddy was already in me as I made out with him and licked his thick Nipple piercings. Then that bull slid in and I was in heaven! And when he finally came—deep, hot, thick inside me—I arched like a possessed thing. A primal sound left my throat. He pulled out slowly, and I felt it all dripping down.

 

But there was still all the other cocks left.

 

They each took their turns, using me harder and harder. They knew what a slut I was and Daddy had told them that everything was on the table. I took fists, sucked on feet, even drank two of their piss. Each one left me covered in their sweat, spit, cum, and more. As each one emptied deep in my cunt, and a few even gave me a second or third across my pretty face.

 

I thought they were done. Each having filled me up. But the Latin daddy stepped forward, smirking. “You still got room, birthday boy?”

I grinned, throat sore, ass gaping. “I was made for it.”

He pushed me onto all fours and lined himself up. His cock was slick, thick, and uncut. And to top it off, a massive 00G Prince Albert was hanging off his pulsing cock. Pushing the foreskin back, begging to be deep in me again. He leaned forward, spit a massive lougie into my mouth, and said, “Hold the fuck on.”

He didn’t thrust—he claimed. Hard. Deep. Brutal. I moaned like a bitch in heat, fingers clawing the rug. My jaw hung open as the Black bull stepped forward and shoved his softening cock back into my mouth.

Used. Filled. Worshiped. Degraded. I was their birthday ritual, and they gave me the kind of communion no church could ever rival.

By 6:20, they were all standing over me—sweaty, satisfied, their cum painting my thighs and dripping down my chin. My jockstrap was ruined. My body wrecked.

“Time to get dressed,” Reed said, slapping my ass. “Daddy’s downstairs.”

I staggered into my usual short shorts and a hoodie, my insides still warm and leaking. They kissed me, messy and loud, spitting a bit more down my used throat, before escorting me down the stairs like some fucked-out prince.

There he was—Daddy—leaning against his car, sunglasses on, that smirk that could undo me in a second.

“Well?” he asked Marcus.

“We gave him your message,” he replied. “And then some.”

“Good,” Daddy said, stepping forward and kissing me hard. He looked me over, his cock visibly hard in his jeans. “Because I’ve got plans for the rest of the night. And it’s my turn now.”

He went in to give me another deep kiss when I felt his large, hairy hands slide down my back and finger my sloppy, dripping hole. He pulled it out, put it deep in my throat, then spit all over my face.

He opened the car door. I slid in, body humming, throat raw and hole aching. He got in,  reached across, unzipped his jeans, and nodded.

“Come on, birthday boy. Let’s see if you’ve still got it in you.”

As we left the parking lot, Daddy’s friends staring at us, I leaned over and took daddy’s massive, throbbing cock down my throat another time.

And the night was just beginning.

[nymidtowneast]

Damn! Now that's a birthday present.

[pozpopperpig]

Lucky Birthday boy!

[onlyraw]

Great story…… great writing and fucking hot! …. Would love to be one of those daddies using our birthday boy

[plisken]

would like a present like that