whthole4u

Part 3: “YOU’RE TOO big - stop no pull it out!” I screamed. My BBC guide’s laughter was the last thing I heard before I passed out. He had warned me - repeatedly. He had told me I would cry, scream, and try to run. That’s why I was tied down like a hostage for this BBC with rough, coarse rope around my wrists and ankles, keeping me from crawling off the bed in in his house in the Shaw neighborhood and fleeing home. I still didn’t know his name - he was my BB guide, the bouncer from the sex party, and my pimp for the street and homeless dick he made me take and for slutting me out to the crackheads during the Ring of Fire. Now, the only ring burning was my ass - my ass, my rectum, and it felt like two feet of my lower intestines had all been scorched to death. His big hands closed tight around my throat cutting off my air as he brutally rammed his elephant penis deeper and split me wider, making me bleed like the crime victim I was. I gasped for air as my crackhead rapist told me again, “YOU WILL GET THAT PUSSY POUNDED FOR HOUR AFTER HOUR AND WHEN MY ROCK RUNS OUT, I WILL LEAVE YOU TIED UP, GO GET MORE, BRING SOME NICCAS BACK - LET THEM RAPE YOU BLOODY - THEN I WILL START ALL OVER. I TOLD YOU, I NEED A LIVE IN WHORE WHO KNOWS HOW TO TAKE CARE OF A MAN - A WHORE WHO I CAN SLAM THIS DICK IN.” I needed my bottle of cocaine, or more of the crack, and tried to ask for it, but his fingers entwined, cutting off all but the faintest sounds. He chuckled, “You awake now huh? I told you that you would be unconscious for the first round. You need that glass pipe? I know you do, but in a minute. Right now it’s all about me and how I’m breaking your pussy’s walls down. I’m gonna make sure you get fucked until you are so sore, loose, and gaping you’re unable to walk and that the only thing in the world that matters are the pipes – the glass one and this fucking big black one.” This must be what it feels like to get fisted I thought. I mean I had taken some big - no some HUGE - dicks since I followed this BBC into the dark streets of DC, but nothing like this. Even Nathan, the smelly bull of a man who had helped bring me back to his house, didn’t fully compare. He was big, but my rapist was far larger - dick and body! He was tall, stocky, rough and thuggish with a full beard and while he was smoking a cigarette when I first met him at the Speed Breeding sex party, crack was his drug of choice - and apparently was mine now too since he had taken my bottle of cocaine. “FEEL THAT? I’M SPLITTING THAT PUSSY OPEN DEEP, MAKING THAT HOLE LIKE THE FUCKING GRAND CANYON! MAKING IT GOOD AND BLOODY SO THAT PUSSY DON’T GET PREGNANT. WELL, IT WILL, BUT WITH...NO MATTER. MY MAN NATHAN’S BEEN OUT ON THE STREETS AND ROUND THE CORNER AT THE TRAP HOUSE. I GOT A ROOM FULL OF CRACK HIGH FUCKERS DOWN STAIRS WAITING TO USE THIS RAW PUSSY - WAITING TO FUCK YOU LIKE THE CRACK WHORE YOU ARE. YOU KNOW WHAT THE PRICE IS TO FUCK YOU? TO FUCK YOU RAW EVEN? A ROCK - A $5 ROCK OF CRACK. EVERY DIRTY, HOMELESS, DUDE IN THIS HALF THE CITY WILL BE SWINGING BY, STAINING MY SHEETS, AND MARKING THAT PUSSY WITH THEIR FILTH - ALL FOR A FUCKING MEASLY $5 ROCK. THAT’S THE KIND OF CRACK WHORE YOU ARE. BUT FIRST, THAT WHITE CRACK PUSSY ASS IS MINE - CHOKING YOU OUT BITCH BOY AS I RAPE THAT SHIT GOOD! CHOKING YOU OUT AS I SPLIT THAT PUSSY AND GIVE YOU MY ELEPHANT BABIES - OH FUCK YES! FEEL THEM BABY SWIMMERS? MY LIL’NICCA’S SWIM DEEP! BREEDING YOU RAW WHORE - FUCKING WHORE - BREEDING YOU!!” I came awake to a rattling sound, close to my left ear. I squinted, took a breath, opened my eyes and there was my BBC rapist, his elephant dick hanging south, floppy, wrinkled, dark, and ominous. He was bent over shaking a red FOLGERS coffee can back and forth. He smiled, “Hear them rocks? Look at this? All them horny fucks downstairs are willing to trade this high for a dip in that bloody pussy. Look? Tumbling rocks, round and round. Fuck that whore pussy was good and I cummed so deep in you I bet you swallowed some nutt the same time I shot it Right? Here - since you was so good, shift your head, hit this pipe, I want you lit as fuck like a God-damn lighthouse so that pussy eats those black dicks up! You are a worthless white crack whore made to serve you black superiors. You know it’s true. I felt that pussy worshipping my black dick, finally knowing it was being used the way it was supposed to.” My ass felt like hot coals had been stuffed inside me and it burned. I tried shifting, but the ropes tying me to the bed meant about the only thing I could do was shift my head from one side to the other. I welcomed the hot glass pipe, the acrid smoke of the crack as it scalded my lungs. “What’s that?” my rapist asked, “You gotta piss? Go ahead. A real trap house crack whore pisses where they lay. You think these guys care? Hell, I expect a few will add to it. Come on now, finish this rock off as you got guys waiting.” Once I exhaled my final hit, my BBC host quickly changed how my legs were tied and instead of having them closed together, he wound the rope around each ankle separately and tied them down to each corner of the bed so my body was staked out in a big X. My host hollered down to Nathan who I gathered was acting as door man. As foot steps sounded on the stairs, my BBC host pulled his dirty white underwear on, dragged a chair across the wood floor, sat down, placed the FOLGERS can by his foot, and lit a fresh rock. He smiled, “Time for the show. Oh don’t worry, Nathan’s got another can downstairs to collect the payment from anyone else who shows. Word will spread once these first couple of guys fuck you about the gang rape going down. Every smoka within a dozen blocks will be heading this way to get off. The rock is good, but as you know, makes you horny as shit and most of these guys have to suffer. Well now you are here to offer relief.” Voices sounded at the door, a couple men entered, someone asked if they could smoke, someone else asked if I was still alive, another man said he didn’t want to be identified later to the cops. Well my rapist assured them they could smoke all they wanted, yes I was alive and pussy ready, and well for the latter, he grabbed a pair of his well stained underwear out of the hamper and slid them over the top of my head so they covered my eyes and nose, leaving my mouth open for the pipe. They all laughed, he then set the glass pipe to my lips and told me to suck the crack smoke up. As I did he said to the assembled crowd, “See, just as promised. A crackhead whore ready for those dicks and that pussy is open and already on its period and I want to see some no mercy fucks and all that cum shoots inside the hole.” Crack smoke and the sounds of crackhead dick raping my ass filled the room as dirty, raw, anonymous dick took turns using me. The men were all shapes and sizes as were their dicks. I never saw a one of them, so don’t know if they were all BBC or what - didn’t matter - their dicks were raw and intent on breeding me. After the first couple of guys fucked and left, someone in the next group mentioned how the sheets were awful bloody. My host just laughed, blew out his pipe smoke, and told them, “Yeah, the whore tried to back out on promises made so I had to bust that cherry, teach him a lesson, make sure he learned to obey. I permanently damaged and rearranged that pussy for sure, just made it better for you niccas to use. So you going to keep asking questions or you here to fuck? There are no refunds. Jesus, maybe trying to arrange a Ring of Fire at home was a mistake. Do I need to drag this whore back up town?” I didn’t exactly remember it happening like that, but had little time to ponder a response before the next man mounted me. I tried keeping count but lost track after 2 - the crack made it so all my mind focused on was getting dicked. “How’s that hole feeling?” my BBC rapist asked, “Don’t start fading on me yet. You ain’t done. Here, hit the pipe, that’s it - hell yeah - you a fuckin rock star whore now working that pipe no handed. You know watching every nicca nutt drop just makes me horny and I can’t wait to tear that pussy up again. Ah, here comes an old smoke buddy. How’s it hangin man?” The guy who entered had a voice that was on the edge of being non-masculine and replied, “Good, good, all good. Folks down the way said you was whoring out some white ass. You know me; I’m always down for pounding a good ass especially when my woman won’t let me in her no more cause of all I’m carrying. Hell man - that pussy looks wet - how many niccas already been up in there? Really? You too? Shit! OK if I wipe it off. I like it dry and firm so I know the whore can feel me.” Someone’s hand began wiping my butt, my crack, my hole, my inner thighs with a towel. The latest guy then said, “Yo, you taken him to Union Station yet? You know those East side guys don’t come this way and bet they would enjoy some fresh twat. They’d mob that shit right.” All conversation ended then as the new man got on the bed, adjusted himself, and got to work. I grunted as he was pretty big, but it felt so fucking good. I tried lifting my hips up, but the ropes prevented it, so I just laid there and enjoyed the ride. Once he had finished, my BBC host followed the guy down the stairs. I could hear voices faintly coming from below and my hole twitched. I needed dick - and some more crack. I heard footsteps on the stairs, at least two men, someone sat in the chair - my rapist. “Well whore,” he said with a sigh like he had just gotten off a long day’s worth of work, “The cathouse is closed for the moment. Fuck that was a good run you fucking slut. Let the whore up.” I could tell it was Nathan untying the ropes on my wrists from his smell. Just like the crack, it was intoxicating and I could taste the foulness in the air. All the ropes loosened, I couldn’t move, my pimp knew what to do as he and Nathan began rubbing my limbs, “No worries. No worries at all. Just takes a minute to get all the blood flowing again, then you hit the pipe and you’ll be ready.” I doubted that. Seriously. I had just been gang raped - again - and I hurt. There was no fucking way! OK - spoiler - famous last words. I rolled over and with Nathan’s help sat up on the edge of the bed. I tore the dirty underwear off my face and my BBC host who was now sitting in the chair laughed and hit his pipe. The smoke swirled, I leaned forward and sniffed the rank air - I needed a hit. He set the pipe down, got down on one knee and with a screwdriver pried up one of the floor boards. He then eased up another, set them to the side, and smiled as he shook the Folgers can at me that had part of the stash of crack rock in it. The payment for my ass from the druggies. “No worries,” he said, “Nathan’s got the other can around, plenty to keep us twisted and going. This is just a little something for later for all my trouble.” His trouble? I did all the fucking work! I winced as I turned and saw the bloody, wet stained sheets, then the red, scrapes around my wrists and ankles. My host held out the pipe, swirled the flame as I sucked in the smoke, let me hit a few times more and noted, “This will ease any discomfort. I’ll get some ointment for those rope burns. In between sessions they’ll scab, peel, the skin will thicken up and toughen.” What did he mean in between sessions? I asked that question when he came back and kneeled on the floor in front of me. I got a good cuff to the head and he snarled, “You better learn now whore. You’ve become a gang rape pussy and every day I plan to tie you up on the bed, maybe at the park, or someplace else and let one nasty nicca after another fuck that ass to keep it good and open for me. I know you’d obey and probably do it anyways for these pipes I got, but I like that shit too - so it ain’t about you.” After some ointment was applied and gauze was wrapped around the rope marks, my host sat back in the chair and fed me the pipe again. Nathan was naked now, his dirty fingers jacking his long, hard dick. He paused long enough to hit the pipe, passed it back to my host who put in a fresh rock and the three of us quickly smoked it down. A new rock was being placed in the pipe when I stood up, eased in front of Nathan, he moved his hand, I reached back, grabbed his dick, and tried sitting on it. My hole was a little dry. Nathan reached his right hand between us and used his long fingernails to scratch my hole to get it wet. I pushed back; his dick filled my ring and kept going, and I pushed harder, “RAPE MY HOLE! PLEASE FUCK ME! FUCK IT HARD - NOW - NOW! GIVE ME THAT BULL DICK!” I begged. Nathan laughed, held me in a bear hug and let me ride his BBC. He was enjoying it, “DIGGING YOUR DITCH OUT BITCH! FILLING THAT PUSSY UP - COME ON - RIDE THAT SHIT - RIDE IT IF YOU WANT THIS NUTT IN THAT WHORE ASS!” Our host had set the pipe down and was watching the show. His elephant dick was out and hanging down like a big trunk with a cold as snot dripped from the end. I met his eyes and smiled with a ‘let’s see what you got’ smirk so he would know I was up for any challenges. I could feel Nathan trying to pick up speed underneath me and his balls were riding high. Before he could release his bull seed I took advantage of his distraction, grabbed his hands, pried them apart, stood up and leaned forward pulling myself of his dick that was right at the edge of blowing his load. “WHERE THE FUCK YOU GOING?” he exclaimed. I turned, grabbed my BBC host’s dick and self-raped my hole by pushing it into me with no lube except the precum he was drooling and the wetness Nathan had created. The pain was fierce and I squatted back as deep as it would go on the initial thrust, which was not that far and before he could react I let go of his dick, turned, and pushed back onto Nathan’s who laughed. I bounced a few times and jumped back on our host. Nathan snarled, “RAPE THAT WHORE PUSSY!” My host stood up, pushing his dick deeper into my ass as he stepped forward, leaning me into Nathan. I reached down and grabbed Nathan’s big dick and held onto it as he kissed me, while my host began raping my hole. I was moaning and trying to scream from the pain of being split open again, but my rapist’s hands found my throat and squeezed tighter, tighter, and as he started slam fucking me with his elephant dick he bellowed, “FUCKING CRACK WHORE! TAKING MY BIG DICK - ALL THAT DIRTY NICCA CUM IN THERE - NOW YOU’RE GONNA GET IT GOOD. LIGHTS OUT WHORE! FUCKING LIGHTS OUT BITCH CUNT! YEAH TOO MUCH DICK AIN’T IT - I’LL BREAK THAT FUCKING WIND PIPE TO GET MY NUTT IF I HAVE TOO - LIGHTS…” Light flooded my eyes as I moaned. My BBC rapist was on my back now. He had me laid out on the bed, face down, as he held my hips and pounded my hole. Suddenly his body froze, he grunted, and I could feel his long dick ejaculating deep inside me. His black shaft twitched, pulsed, and skittered as it unloaded. He let out a big sigh, slid his body back, leaving a trail of elephant dick sperm as my open hole gaped in abandonment. “STAY THERE. NATHAN HERE’S GOING TO GET SLOPPY SECONDS. WHEN HE’S DONE, COME DOWN STAIRS. I’M HUNGRY AND YOU NEED TO FIX US SOMETHING.” Nathan wasted no time mounting me and took his time enjoying my wide open ass and telling me how his dirty dick was going to push more cum inside me. Once his carnal lust was sated, Nathan climbed off me, gave my ass a good slap, and left me on the bed. I reached back, touched my busted hole, felt the slithering man seed spilling out, coated my finger and licked it clean. Pure masculine essence! My host was right; it hurt to walk. Every step was like someone flicking a lighter inside my ass and guts. I eased down the stairs to find the two BBC sitting in the living room, crack pipes in hand, smiling at my tender-footed approach. I went over to my host to ask for a hit on the pipe and just got a smile and a negative nod along with jerk of his head towards the kitchen. A few minutes later I was back, handed off the plates with their sandwiches, and eased down onto the floor by my host’s feet. He tapped my shoulder, held the pipe so I could hit it, and I relaxed back against his legs. A few more hits and I was eyeing his elephant dick and looking at Nathan, wondering which one I could entice to stick it back in me. There was a knock - faint at first then firmer. “Get the door,” my host ordered. I got up, walked into the hall and before I opened the door paused, and thought maybe I should find some clothes first. The knock was louder now and a voice hollered from the living room, “GET THE FUCKING DOOR!” I eased the door open a crack, then wide enough to let the guy in. He nervously looked around, saw I was totally nude, his eyes got big then he smiled. He was white, 40s maybe and looked like a 1970s porn star or the Marlboro Man, with long greasy black hair combed straight back and a big thick mustache that hung down the sides of his mouth. His cheeks were sunk in, his skin pock marked, and he had dark circles under his eyes that made him look part Raccoon. My host stepped out wearing his dirty white underwear and asked, “Yeah?” The white guy hemmed, hawed, and his hand shook as he held out a big chunk of crack. A smile and a quick set of orders followed, “Just take it here, in the hall. And from now on, anyone else who comes knocking don’t bother me if all they want is pussy. You take their rock, then take their nutt. Fuck them right here in the hall like a real whore.” I was left in the hall with the white guy who quickly fumbled his dick out. What a let down, after having those two giant BBC up in me. But the guy got hard quick so I leaned forward, steadied myself against the wall, and let him stick his crusty dick in and give me a quick nutt. Through the evening I greeted the few other stragglers who showed up at the door like the crack whore I was. They plugged me right there in the front hall with raw pipe for a chunk of rock, which I then offered to my BBC host and Nathan. No matter what I did though, they both held off breeding me again and it was driving me crazy. I think they liked that though, seeing me desperate for dick. My host got up, locked the front door and turned off the light. He went upstairs, came down, and handed Nathan a pillow and blanket. I figured I was going to get to go home then, but when I said I should get my clothes and get going he laughed, and said, “Two things wrong with that statement. First, you’re a whore and that pussy needs the pipes and I got both right here. Second, Nathan there looks like he’s about ready for another go at it so spread that cunt open and let him fuck it. When it’s nice and full, then bring your white ass upstairs because I plan to rape the fuck out of you good and give you something to really put to sleep. Tomorrow’s another day in whoreville and I got a couple ideas. I know a couple guys hung about my size who’ve I’ve done some wild tag rape shit with. I also think my old smoke buddy had it right. I need to run you over to Union Station and let those niccas have a turn on that ass. Always good to have them owe me a favor.” I turned to go please Nathan who was standing by the couch, naked, stroking his big hard dick. My host stopped me, grabbing me from the back and jamming his dick head into my ass plugging my hole, “YOU’VE BEEN A GOOD CRACK WHORE TODAY PUSSY. I WANT THAT HOLE WET SO I CAN RAPE YOU GOOD. YOU PLAY WITH FIRE LITTLE BOY, YOU GET BURNED AND TODAY WAS JUST A LITTLE BLAZE - TOMORROW I’M GONNA DROP YOU INTO A FUCKING BONFIRE.” Stay Tuned for Part 4 - The Bonfire (*From the author: If you like the story let me know - post a reply or give a reputation. Thanks to everyone who takes the time to read these stories and for the continued support!)

Hi – this main story – Speed Breeding – ended on August 9 with the final post titled: EPILOGUE – A RING OF FIRE. However, the story continues as an offshoot in RING OF FIRE – posted at https://breeding.zone/topic/42827-ring-of-fire/ - two chapters so far. Thanks -

Part 2: Nathan grunted and his cum burned my inner flesh like a wildfire. I didn’t want him to stop, but he did, and as he gently eased out of my now stretched and floppy hole, he slapped my ass twice and asked, “Ya’ll round for a bit? Yeah? Cool man. I’ll swing back through and hit it again in a few. Need to run up top and re-up my stash.” My BBC guide had just urged Nathan to rape my ass with his raw, crack head dick. That was the theme of this freak down - what he called a Ring of Fire - all the nasty BBC in the park that needed to breed and bust some raw hole were welcome as they stood around me, smoking their drugs, as I got used like a whore. I could barely stand and after a fresh rock and a few lungs full of smoke, I dropped to the filthy floor of the alcove where someone else shoved a ready and willing dick into my wide-open ass. I just wanted to go to sleep, to enjoy the warm tingling of the crack, and not be bothered any more. That wasn’t happening. More dick was shoved in my tore up hole and more cum was injected inside me. I had to smile as I thought again about how I had been in DC less than a week and had already taken more stranger dick than many people get in a lifetime and how it felt so fucking freeing to just not give a fuck, let go, and fucking enjoy myself and let others enjoy me as they wanted. Long nails dug into my forearm as I was helped up. The bouncer set the pipe to my lips, “You need to stay fucked up,” he said as I automatically inhaled. I realized then the guy holding me up was Nathan. I started to turn and look to see who else was still there, but Nathan held me steady, the pipe filled my lungs and cleared my head while fucking my body up. Nathan then let go of my arm with a silent ‘please don’t fall down look’ on his face as he undid the few buttons still closed on his shirt, pulled it off, and gently leaned into me as he tied it around my waist. I looked down and realized someone had slid my t-shirt over my head, my shorts back on me - damn I didn’t remember that at all. I then looked at Nathan - bull Master fucker - and mouthed a silent ‘thank you’. I meant to say it, but my throat hurt, my windpipe constricted, and no sound came out. I winced and reached down and rubbed my thighs and knees - fuck they were cut up and jacked. I staggered and wobbled sideways, but Nathan was there and caught me. The BBC bouncer - my pimp and guide - was arguing with a couple guys off to the side as Nathan led me to the front of the alcove. It was a dark and cloudy day and now had started to rain - light but steady. I winced at the change in light. I leaned against Nathan as we followed the bouncer out of the park. I laughed thinking what a sight we must be. Me, all scraped up, my legs covered in anonymous cum, with this half-naked bull of a man holding me up as I staggered down the street after my BBC crack pimp. HA! We walked south then east into the Shaw neighborhood. Dupont was the gay mecca. East of 15th was Logan, which was iffy, but was slowly getting pockets of redevelopment and people moving into the area to redo the old houses. Shaw - well Shaw was a total no go. Bad shit went down in Shaw, so while part of my mind - a super tiny part - was screaming, ’NO DON’T FOLLOW - DON’T GO’ my cracked out high part and my super hungry asshole had to have more and I didn’t give a flying fuck. Now, one might think I would have realized earlier in the week I was a whore and slut - maybe getting fucked raw by the troll at the bar my first day in DC, or letting his friends use me, or the gang bang with the guys watching the game (which after the park was a pretty light weight fuck down), or letting the homeless guy fuck me in the alley, or even the Speed Breeding. Yet it was not until that moment as those two big men were escorting me into Shaw did I really say to myself, ‘Yeah, I’m a slut and a whore for dick - and cum!’ And that was OK - it was fucking FANTASTIC! A run down block of old, wood townhouses and vacant lots was our destination and my BBC pimp led us about ¾ of the way down the street where on the right, between two vacant lots, stood a pair of old, row houses. The one on the left was painted in a vibrant, eye burning, hue of blue. Even the boards that covered the windows and gaps under the partially fallen in porch were all the same color. The house on the right was painted white, with forest green trim. The small yard was enclosed behind a gray, wire metal fence, the lawn was cut, the house looked well maintained especially compared to others on the block. The bouncer walked up the brick steps, unlocked the outer, metal meshed door, unlocked the inner door, and stepped inside, closely followed by Nathan and I. The air inside was humid and stuffy, or maybe it was just all the crack coursing through me that made it feel that way. Speaking of, I needed the pipe, or my cocaine, something, and both BBC laughed when I started begging. Fuckers! I gasped as my BBC host gripped my throat, pulled me close, and blew his crack hit directly into my mouth. I latched on as tight as I could and he fed me again, then let me hit the pipe directly. I swooned, he laughed and asked, “So you think you ready to take care of my needs now?” I just nodded, and he shook his head as he gripped his dick. “THIS THAT ELEPHANT DICK - NO HORSE DICK HERE, LIKE I TOLD YOU, ONCE I DECIDE TO FUCK THAT PUSSY YOU WILL CRY, SCREAM, TRY TO RUN AND I WON’T GIVE A FUCKING SHIT CAUSE LIKE I SAID, THAT PUSSY ASS IS MINE NOW.” Before I could respond Nathan had reached around from my back, untied his shirt, yanked my shorts down, and with my pimp still gripping my throat, Nathan began forcing his dry dick back inside my ass. “Get him on the floor so I can fill that gut with my piss,” our host said. Once he had drained his tank, I was ordered back up, Nathan slithered out, then I was told to get my whore ass into the kitchen and make them a sandwich and some drinks. It took me a minute - one because I was high as fuck and two because I didn’t know where he kept shit - but as I was plating their food my pimp strolled in wearing nothing but a pair of badly stained, white underwear and holding the pipe with a big, fresh rock in the bowl. “I had to make sure you were obeying like a good servant and whore,” he said. “Get the fuck on your knees and slobber on this dick - through the fabric - don’t fucking touch it! The first time you will feel the skin is when it splits that whore pussy open!” Back in the living room the two BBC sat in easy chairs, chatting, eating, drinking, and every now and then, leaning forward to feed me some more crack. I was a naked, submissive, whore whose only purpose was to entertain and please them. While our host didn’t want me touching his dick, Nathan had no such compunction and was happy to have me slurp on his thick dick head and nurse out some precum. I even tilted his dick back and suckled on his Big Foot styled nut sac and edged down to that soft spot just underneath that was caked in man musk and rank. I could feel the anticipation build as I cleared the plates and glasses, as the two BBC got fidgety and their dicks grew and slobbered. I hit the crack pipe with such desperate need! Finally, our host stood up, pointed to the stairs through the archway to the hall and said, “Get your fucking whore ass up them steps. If you need to piss or something, do it now. Bathroom’s at the end of the hall. Then get on your knees on the floor beside the bed. You got 5 minutes - then shit gets real.” I scampered up those steps liked Sarah Palin himself was chasing me. The bathroom, like the rest of the place, was clean and well organized and tended. I sat on the toilet and prayed that I was still clean and ready to be fucked. I mean, I had not eaten in fuck - I couldn’t remember how long and even my piss was sparse, dark, and almost crusty. I quickly dabbed off. The floorboards creaked as I hustled into the bedroom and positioned myself on the floor at the end of the bed that was almost centered in the middle of the room and waited. My heart raced, I licked my lips, my hole spasmed. Heavy footsteps ascended the stairs. I didn’t dare to look and kept my face down and eyes glued on the wood boards. The bed creaked, shifted, a large, hot naked body settled on the corner of the bed. I could tell from the dirty fingernails on the hand that leaned down to grab my left wrist that it was Nathan. He guided me up, turned me around, and had me back up on his black horse dick. My hole tensed and tried to close, but Nathan drove through and as he rammed himself back into my ass he said, “Oh yeah, going to slather them bootie cakes.” Nathan took his time exploring every crack and crevice of my lower intestines and then he picked up his pace and added a few new ones of his own before he barebacked another load up my ass. “Jesus,” our host said from the doorway, “I thought you were planning to camp out in that ass, not rape the shitter. You good man? Ready to help me out?” Nathan just gave a loud HMMMM as he pushed his still hard dick deeper into my hole and grabbed both of my arms tight, pinning me solidly against his body. My BBC guide walked over, set a handful of supplies down on the night stand, prepped the pipe, and with Nathan’s dick still buried inside me held the pipe to my lips and made me hit the rock. The pipe had barely left my lips before I started trying to bounce up and down on Nathan’s black rod. “RIDE THAT DICK YOU FUCKING WHORE,” my BBC pimp said, “SHOW ME HOW HUNGRY THAT PUSSY IS, HOW OPEN THAT PUSSY IS, THAT YOU READY FOR SOME OF THIS THICK LOG SPLITTING YOU DEEP!” I opened my eyes to see him standing a few feet away, his hand inside his dirty, white briefs, sliding back and forth along his hardness that was angled now up and to the left and looked like it wrapped around his hip. Oh God I had to have that! I bounced up and down harder and he smiled, stopped stroking, relit the pipe, “COME ON NOW. SHOW ME WHAT A GOOD DOPED OUT WHORE YOU ARE. I THINK THAT’S SOME GOOD PUSSY YOU GOT THERE AND I’LL SOON SEE. FUCKING HORNED ME UP WATCHING ALL THOSE NICCAS GANG RAPE IT, BREED IT, FUCKING YOU MAKE YOU PREGNANT WITH THEIR DIRTY, HOMELESS, CRACKED OUT DICKS! READY FOR THAT PUSSY TO BLEED FOR ME? OPEN IT UP FOR MY BLACK SEED?” Another few hits of the pipe and Nathan stood us up, turned us around, and with his dick still in my ass fuck/crawled us up on the bed so I was lying flat with his big bull body on my back, holding me down. Once settled, he started pumping my ass again, forcing my hole open and fuck that felt so good. I then tried to look to my left as I felt a course rubbing on my skin. Nathan’s bull body blocked everything out, but my pimp’s voice - though muffled - was clear in meaning, “I’m tying you down. I told you fucking bitches and whores always try to run. They all think they can handle it, think their pussies can take this big ol-dick. But once I rip that ring open they tap out, crying and whining and screaming. You feeling that fire? That burning in your ass? Your fucking pussy just took a whole lotta niccas up in there so you better hope your shit ain’t too tight. Fuck I ain’t stopping once I get started. I already let your new landlord and employer know you won’t be around for a few days. Once I break a pussy’s walls down, I fuck until you are so sore, loose, and gaping you’re unable to walk and that the only thing in the world that matters are the pipes – the glass one and this fucking big black one.” I tried pulling my hands closer to my body, suddenly afraid, but the coarse rope just cut into my skin. My pimp was behind me now as ropes were secured around my ankles, my legs pressed together and tied down. His voice was more distant, but still clear as Nathan’s dick stiffened in my ass as our host said, “YOU WILL GET THAT PUSSY POUNDED FOR HOUR AFTER HOUR AND WHEN MY ROCK RUNS OUT, I WILL LEAVE YOU TIED UP, GO GET MORE, BRING SOME NICCAS BACK - LET THEM RAPE YOU BLOODY - THEN I WILL START ALL OVER. I TOLD YOU, I NEED A LIVE IN WHORE WHO KNOWS HOW TO TAKE CARE OF A MAN - A WHORE WHO I CAN SLAM THIS DICK IN. LIKE I ALSO TOLD YOU - AND YOU SHOULD HAVE FUCKING LISTENED BUT TOO LATE NOW YOU FUCKING WHORE, YOU WILL CRY, SCREAM, TRY TO RUN AND I WON’T GIVE A FUCKING SHIT. THAT PUSSY ASS IS MINE NOW.” The ropes shifted, cutting into my flesh. Nathan yanked his hard dick out and rolled off my back and I heard footsteps stomping down the stairs. The bed creaked, shifted, and a sweaty body covered mine. Two large hands reached down and as my BBC pimp blew his hot breath on my neck his hands separated my cheeks exposing my hole. I held my breath as a gigantic piece of man flesh was angled into my crack, set against my asshole, and then he forcefully pushed. “YOU’RE TOO big - stop no pull it out!” I screamed. My BBC guide’s laughter was the last thing I heard before I passed out. (*From the author: If you like the story let me know - post a reply or give a reputation. Thanks to everyone who takes the time to read these stories and for the continued support!)

Ring of Fire: The flick of the lighter, the warm glass pipe between my lips, the smile on my BBC guide’s face as I inhaled the toxic smoke and held it deep in my lungs like he ordered was the first flame of the inferno to come - the Ring of Fire. My BBC guide - who still had not given me his name, so he remained an anonymous master of sexual predation and exploration - was tall, stocky, with a full beard and a GIGANTIC steel pipe snaking down the right leg of his jeans that even soft was fucking impressive. He had promised earlier in the night when I was getting ready to be a whore at the sex party in the VIP Speed Breeding area, “I ONLY FUCK WHEN I KNOW IT’S ALL GOING IN - EVERY INCH - AND IF THAT MEANS MAKING THAT SHIT BLEED AND TEARING YOU OPEN TO GET IT, I WILL.” (What follows is the continuation of the Epilogue from the story SPEED BREEDING - https://breeding.zone/topic/42050-speed-breeding/) I was on my hands and knees at Malcolm X Park waiting for the crack pipe he was hitting. Within the short time he had been in charge of me, I had already licked his boots in an alley, sucked off some guy on the sidewalk, been fucked raw by a 10-inch homeless dude in Logan Circle Park, and now was getting ready for the Ring of Fire. He had brought me to this park for a reason and like Logan Circle; it was run down, and a place where the dirtiest deeds were done. The call had gone out that a Ring of Fire was going down and just before we entered this dark space, he had said, “A RING OF FIRE IS A BBC GANG RAPE SPECIAL. SOON THIS ALCOVE WILL BE BRIMMING WITH BROTHAS ALL LOOKING TO LIGHT THEIR PIPES UP AND STAND IN A CIRCLE - CREATING A RING OF FIRE AROUND THAT WHITE PUSSY ASS AS ONE AFTER ANOTHER DICK IT DOWN, NUTT UP, AND TAG OFF.” Men were shuffling behind and to the sides of me - unsure, waiting, watching. I followed the dancing flame in the BBC’s hand and leaned on his muscular thighs, my neck craned forward like a baby chick eager for its dinner. The BBC bouncer burned a good portion of the rock he was smoking, exhaled, coughed, then turned the pipe in his hand towards me and said, “Close your lips around the glass. It will be warm, but won’t burn you. You watched me so you know the basics. I’ll swirl the flame under the rock in the bowl and when the smoke starts up you inhale deep with your lungs and suck in as much as you can and hold it. You’ll want to cough - DONT. Not at first. Hold it. It’ll feel scratchy, rough, then it like - I don’t know - slides away. Once you feel that smooth rush, exhale as the smoke and rock have done their work.” My bouncer/guide to DC’s underworld was sitting on the stone bench in the dark alcove. I was naked and on my hands and knees as ordered. While he prepped more rock on his pipe for me to hit, I kept my head down with my tongue trying to bathe his Timberland boots. The one hit I had done on the pipe already had made my tongue feel numb, given me a nasty taste, and the smell in my nostrils was a mix of burnt plastic, something sickly sweet, with a tinge of dried piss, puke, and whatever else was caking the floor of the alcove where we were. My head was swirling and my body felt all tingly, not like the high I had from snorting the cocaine. A rough hand ran over the rump of my ass, a body scooted in, I started to turn my head to look - my eyes dizzy from the dancing flames now closing in. SLAP – “KEEP YOUR FUCKING EYES ON ME,” the BBC bouncer said, “ALL THAT MATTERS IS YOU WATCHING THIS DICK GROW IN MY PANTS, THAT YOU FOCUS ON THE PIPE AS I HOLD IT OUT FOR YOU, AND THAT YOU KEEP CLEANING MY BOOTS AS THESE NICCAS RAPE FUCK THAT ASS.” The to man behind me he said, “GO ON MAN, FUCK IT. AIN’T NOTHING TO WAIT FOR. PUNCH THAT PUSSY OPEN AND LOAD IT UP - THIS WHORE’S TRYING TO BE TURNED OUT!” I grunted at the initial thrust, then moaned in pleasure as the anonymous man started stroking my hole, pushing the homeless guy’s cum from earlier back in. Mumbling words of encouragement were spatted out in between the flashes of flame heating up the various pipes. The pipe was lowered down to my mouth again and I flinched as the heat seemed awful close. My BBG guide laughed, had me suck the pipe twice more hard, then kicked me backwards a little with his boots and watched as the next dick slammed my eager ass. These guys might be drugged out fuckers, but they were like the FBI Hostage Rescue Team who’s motto is speed, surprise, and violence of action. After the first two dicks knocked me up I bent down and forward, my head resting on the BBC’s Timberlands as I raised my ass up in the air. The next dick slammed my hole deep and I grunted in pain that quickly fled, replaced by the hot tingling of the crack and joy of a dick pounding my ass ring. Voices raised, entwined, swirled through the alcove like a distorted symphony. All that mattered was the crack pipe, the BBC guiding me, his boots, and my hole being used. I might have complained about the pain on my knees, or maybe the guys fucking me said something, I don’t remember. The bouncer got me focused and said, “STAND UP - KEEP YOUR EYES ON ME YOU FUCKING WHORE. YOU’VE DONE GOOD SO FAR AND HAVE TAKEN SOME REAL NASTY NICCA DICK. LOTS MORE TO GO, BUT I WANT TO SEE THEM REALLY DIG IN THEM GUTS. HERE - HIT THE PIPE AGAIN AND KEEP DOING IT...MORE...ONCE MORE...OK NOW STAY STANDING AND BEND OVER. I WANT YOU TO PUT THAT FUCKING FACE IN MY LAP AND START SLATHERING MY DICK THROUGH MY PANTS. MY SHIT’S HARD AS HELL ALREADY WATCHING THIS SHOW, SO I NEED A BETTER VIEW OF THESE NICCAS COATING THAT PUSSY AS THEY GANG RAPE YOU AND MAKE YOU ANOTHER CRIME STATISTIC FROM THE PARK.” The next guy slammed in, reached around, found my nipples and started twisting them as hard as he could. My BBC guide laughed, “Yeah, rape that hole man - rape it good for me!” There was a thick layer of smoke hanging in the air that I could see now as the flames and shadows danced against the alcove wall. I was entranced as I caught flashes of the guy’s shadow who was fucking me pressed against mine and when he came, the shadows stuttered and paused as his body twitched and his balls mixed his DNA in with all the other. He yanked his dick out, hot cum streamed down the back of my legs and I didn’t care. The smell of multiple nutts coming out of my ass was like unleashing a 50-gallon drum of sex pheromones on the waiting crowd. I bent over the bouncer’s lap and started slathering the dark firmness of his black pipe through the fabric of his pants as another dick pushed in me with ease and used me for their breeding pleasure. I shifted my head back and forth like I was lathering a cob of corn on a butter stick and then paused and wondered, what if his dick wasn’t really as big as it seemed? What if it was just a sock or something stuffed down there? The hidden secret swelled, he cuffed my head and snarled, “GET BACK TO WORK WHORE!” I’m used to guys being verbal - hell I’m verbal too - but about the only sounds in the alcove were the flicks of lighters or matches, the heavy huffs on crack pipes and stems, the smack of BBC flesh against my white cheeks, and the grunts as one after another anonymous man flooded my ass with cum. The majority of guys were average in size, or maybe I was just too high to realize the big ones were fucking me. My hole did sort of feel like I was turning inside out as those dicks beat it good. I felt suddenly really hot and dizzy and someone set a bottle of water in my hand that I thirstily drank. Much better. The next guy that drew my attention away from the BBC’s lap did not do so because of what I felt, but his smell. I mean, this guy’s musk cut through the odor created my multiple loads up my ass, a bunch of guys - some homeless, some not - and a whole shit load of crack being smoked in a fairly enclosed space, yet I could smell him. It wasn’t a bad thing though, as his smell was wild, feral, beastly. I paused, my nostrils flared, I would have turned my head to follow the trail of ripe rankness if the BBC had not slammed my head back down into his lap. My ass hole puckered out; my legs shook. Need and fear coursed through my body. The newcomer walked to the side left side of my BBC pimp daddy, and while someone else started dicking me, I could not help but let my eyes follow this new man. My head was still pressed firmly down, but my eyes took him all in. Like my BBC guide he was tall - very tall. His shirt was partially unbuttoned exposing a big furry belly poking through, splitting the lower part of the shirt. His hair was long and matted in dreads and as he held out a large hand with a couple baggies on it for my host, I saw his nails were long, sharp, with dirt caked around the edges. Another load was dropped in my hole, the new guy stepped out of sight, and I yelped as he slid a few fingers inside my cummy rectum and began clawing at my flesh getting ready to leave his mark. “GET YOUR HEAD UP. HIT THIS PIPE - COME ON NOW - YOU GOT SOME PRIME-A BULL DICK ABOUT TO RAPE THAT ASS AND I CAN’T WAIT TO SEE THAT SHIT.” Then to whatever other guys were still around, which appeared to be several from the flickers of light and sounds he said, “WATCH AND LEARN NICCAS - WATCH AND LEARN.” I looked up, my lips puckered out eager for the pipe as the bouncer watched the new guy and paused feeding me the drugs. I then cried out in absolute pain as something large and wild burst through my outer ass ring. There was like a whoosh as all the air in the alcove seemed to vanish and everyone took a step closer, bathing me in flickering flames to watch this new man fuck me. My BBC guide laughed, set his pipe to my lips, and as he moved the flame in tight little circles and I eagerly inhaled the acrid smoke he said, “That’s Nathan. Like the hot dog. Nicca gives me a run for my money for sure. Glad he’s around today. He’ll fuck that ass out good, get it nice and open for me, and well if that dick don’t send you to the hospital, there’s hope for you and I yet.” A thick wiry bush of unscaped man hair scratched at my flesh as Nathan dogged my hole. He was by far the biggest dick that had fucked me yet and I had to have more. I arched my back, adjusted my footing as best I could; I grabbed my BBC guide’s thighs with my hands to brace myself and dropped my head so his hidden shaft got the full sloppy-toppy-drool effect. Nathan was yanking me back onto his dick with full force, driving himself deeper through my tunnels and opening me up for whatever gifts he had brought to this little party. The BBC beneath my mouth expanded and lengthened as for the first time my pimp egged someone on, “RAPE THAT ASS MAN - GET THAT SHIT OPEN FOR ME. THAT PUSSY BLEEDING YET FOR YOU? HELL YEAH NICCA BANG THAT HOLE! THAT’S WHAT A CRACK WHORE GETS - WHAT A CRACK WHORE NEEDS - WHAT A CRACK WHORE WANTS! THAT ASS IS HUNGRY FOR THAT DICK MAN SO SLAM IT IN THERE. DROP THAT NUTT MAN - DROP IT!” Nathan grunted and his cum burned my inner flesh like a wildfire. I didn’t want him to stop, but he did, and as he gently eased out of my now stretched and floppy hole, he slapped my ass twice and asked, “Ya’ll round for a bit? Yeah? Cool man. I’ll swing back through and hit it again in a few. Need to run up top and re-up.” Stay Tuned for Part 2 (*From the author: If you like the story let me know - post a reply or give a reputation. Thanks to everyone who takes the time to read these stories and for the continued support!)

Epilogue - A Ring of Fire: A black hand snatched the wad of cash - my tips from the Speed Breeding and anonymous dick/cum I had taken - then he took the keys to my apartment Garrett was holding, and as Garrett stepped back, smiling like the twisted fucker he was, the black bouncer/guard I had teased earlier filled the doorway and said, “HIS PARTY IS OVER. MINE IS JUST BEGINNING. YOU READY FOR SOME BBC SLOW, DEEP, ROUGH BREEDING? NONE OF THIS SPEEDY SHIT - I PLAN TO TAKE MY TIME OPENING THAT ASS PUSSY UP AND FILLING YOU WITH NICCA NUTT” Before I replied I gave him and up/down once over look and my ass shivered in anticipation. He was tall, stocky, with a full beard and a GIGANTIC steel pipe snaking down the right leg of his jeans that even soft was fucking impressive. Garrett patted me on the shoulder and laughed, “I’ll see you at home - good job tonight.” My black escort called out behind him, “Don’t wait up.” I smiled at his boldness, bent over to pick up my shorts, shirt, and full bottle of cocaine Garrett had left for me and yelped as two, calloused fingers started violating my hole as his other hand pressed down on my back. “How many loads you take in that ass tonight,” he asked? I ignored the question as I snorted some powder, wiped my nose, and started to push back, riding those digits. He chuckled, “Fucking bitch - you’re in heat huh? Like I told you, YOU TEASING THE WRONG MAN.” He growled, “I ONLY FUCK WHEN I KNOW IT’S ALL GOING IN - EVERY INCH - and IF THAT MEANS MAKING THAT SHIT BLEED AND TEARING YOU OPEN TO GET IT, I WILL. I AIN’T PLAYIN. I TAKE WHAT’S MINE. Now that pussy ass is mine. You ain’t ready yet and frankly never will be until I get done fucking is the first time.” All that talk just made me want it and want it now and I started moaning and riding his fingers harder even as he tried adding a third and turning his hand from vertical to horizontal to cut me up and stretch me out. The sharp pain was joyous and I pushed back on it. He started slicing and dicing my wet hole as he continued, “I’M TELLING YOU NOW. YOU AIN’T READY, BUT I’LL GET YOU CLOSER AND AFTER YOU’VE SHOWN ME YOU CAN BE A REAL WHORE AND SLUT FOR GOOD BLACK DICK - NOT THESE PANTY ASS WHITE DING A LINGS THAT SNUCK THROUGH HERE TONIGHT - BUT REAL NICCA DICK - WHEN I THINK THAT PUSSY IS SET, YOU WILL CRY, SCREAM, TRY TO RUN AND I WON’T GIVE A FUCKING SHIT CAUSE LIKE I SAID, THAT PUSSY ASS IS MINE NOW. SO QUIT DICKIN AROUND, GATHER YOUR SHIT AND COME ON.” Damn it! What do you call it when a bottom is left hanging like that? Tops get blue balls but what do bottoms get? Blue asshole? I followed him out of the warehouse and had to hustle to keep up. He quickly crossed the street and entered a short alley that cut the block in half and ran between a little neighborhood grocery store and an old bar that only seemed to be open for the daytime drunks. He stopped, turned fast for such a big guy, put his hand around my throat and shoved me against the brick wall, “Hold my fucking lighter for me, then once I start hitting my pipe I want you to get on your hands and knees and lick my boots.” I paused, “What if someone comes by?” I garbled. He just shook his head, “Like I give a shit. They can either watch the show or join in.” Then, with only the glow from his lighter as I tried to hold it steady, he reached down, rolled up cuff of his jeans and extracted a silver case from the top of his Timberlands. I watched as he deftly removed a glass pipe that had a stem about 3 inches long with a gum drop sized bowl on the end. He then stuffed a wadded up piece of Chore Boy metal cleaning pad that he had pre-balled and burned a bit to get the orange coloring off into the bowl. Next he tapped a big yellowish rock out of a little baggy, set it on top of the metal wadding, latched the case close and slid it back into his boot top. He took the lighter, kicked me, “Get on your fucking knees - wait - take them shorts off so I see that ass - there you go - now get on your knees and clean them boots.” I started slurping on his Timberlands as the BBC flicked his lighter, got the rock melting, then inhaled. I reached up to stroke that long dick I was so eager to taste and feel and got knocked up side the head as he coughed out a toxic cloud, “FUCK THAT SHIT OFF. KEEP YOUR FUCKING HANDS TO YOURSELF AND THAT TONGUE ON MY BOOTS. YOU NEED TO LEARN HOW TO SERVE A REAL MAN - THAT STARTS BY OBEYING AND KEEPS GOING BY YOU ATTENDING TO MY NEEDS. RIGHT NOW - MY NEED IS YOU TO BATHE MY TIMBS WITH THAT TONGUE. LATER - MY NEED WILL BE TO BREED YOU SO DEEP YOU’LL GET FLUID IN YOUR LUNGS - NUTT PNEUMONIA.” Having finished up the rock, he reached down with his calloused hands, patted me on the head, took his metal case back out of his boot, set the pipe back inside, tucked it back in and said, “Get up. Get your shorts on. Come on.” About a block away as we headed east we paused at the corner. We stood by the vacant building for about 5 minutes - him tweaking and me snorting coke from my bottle. A few cars were on 14th Street, but it was not until one slowed, then circled round the block and came down the side street that he moved. He eased out to the edge of the sidewalk, the car stopped, window rolled down, the black guy inside leaned over and he and my bouncer escort exchanged words. The car then backed up away from the lit corner and turned it’s lights off. I followed along and the driver got out, walked to the passenger side, and leaned against the door as we approached. My BBC bouncer pulled the wad of my cash tips from his pocket, peeled off a $10, handed it to the guy, who smiled, unbuckled his pants, and dropped them to the pavement. “Suck his dick,” I was ordered. I looked from one guy to the other and while I wanted to get fucked, got on my knees, grabbed the guy’s hips and started slurping. I didn’t care if someone might walk by - which given the location and time of night was unlikely and the fact that my BBC bouncer was standing behind me watching. “SUCK THAT DICK YOU WHORE - SUCK IT!” the car’s driver said as he started pumping my throat. I did for a bit, but my B.I.C. (Bottom In Charge) role took over and I pulled back, looked up, and breathlessly asked, “Want to fuck me?” That got me a hard boot to the back as a silent ‘shut up’ from my BBC guide, and as the driver did not respond I shrugged, and focused on working my mouth hole instead. The driver’s hands grabbed the back of my head and he started thrusting, pumping, and filled my mouth with a pint of man cum. Satisfied I had sucked him dry he let go of my head, I leaned back, he zipped up, walked around the front of the car, got in, and drove off. I got off the sidewalk and the BBC bouncer said, “You still need to learn. A man’s needs is not always about getting pussy - well it is - but sometimes a nicca just wants a quick blow job or BJ. You need to learn about the niccas here. Take the dick however they offer it. If they are in their car, they are usually just looking for a quick blow job before heading home. If you need more, you need to offer a little something - a little cash but also offering to take it unwrapped is good - they like whore pussy they can pop and drop a nutt in. Now, you’re gonna have to do better if you want me to fuck that ass.” Damn! I had to hustle again to catch up as he headed back to the corner at 14th. “Hey, I never got your name,” I said as I got up to him. He paused, looked at me and said, “No, you didn’t.” Fuck that was hot! Here I was following some anonymous BBC, taking anonymous loads on the street because he said so, all because I was a dick hungry cock hound. I was busy snorting from my bottle when he did a quick step across the street ahead of an oncoming car. I had to wait for the car to pass then practically run to catch up. We turned east on P Street and a block up, crossed over to Logan Circle Park. Tall, wiry bushes had turned what was once a broad walkway into the small park into nothing more than a slim, game trail. Another example of DC’s failed government back at the time. Shadows moved off to the sides - sounds of sex could be heard, voices low, bodies smacking together, and as we got to the middle of the park I could see a small group of men standing under the statute of Commander John Logan astride his horse, looking forlornly over the rundown park. “Stay here,” my BBC guide said. Bits of light randomly shone from the streetlamps that circled the park. Any lamps within the park were long broken, but there was enough light to make out the basics. It was also starting to approach morning, yet a dark and overcast one. Fitting for the dark places I was being taken in DC’s underbelly. I looked down at the remnants of an old park bench, which now was nothing more than a metal leg/end piece bolted to cracked concrete and a few bits of rotten wood. I took my bottle out, snorted some coke, and watched as my guide eased up to the group, shook some hands, then turned his back to me as he did his business. Was he finding me more dick? “Are they going to fuck me?” I asked as he came back to where I was standing. He grabbed my shoulder and pushed me back down the path a couple of steps and quietly said, “No. Something else to learn if you are going to chase street dick is that it’s almost always best to catch guys who are alone. Sitting alone, walking alone, driving alone. Those dudes up there? They’re here for business - slinging dope, rock, needles, whatever. Now, they don’t bother folks who come here to fuck around they just don’t want to be bothered and if you had gone up to ask them if they wanted to fuck you’d get beat down. True - I know some of those niccas would roll up in that ass another place - another time - but this is their business time.” I looked crestfallen and swayed a bit as I snorted some more coke. “Easy there pussy boy,” my BBC bouncer said as he steadied me. “I want you fucked up, not dropped out, cause I’ll leave your ass where it falls. Don’t worry. I came here to get as much rock as they could offer with that nice wad of cash of yours. When I fuck you, I want to be lit as that makes me horny as shit and I want you lit too. You’ll see - the pipe will make you climb my dick like a pro – at least for the second round. You’ll be lucky to stay conscious for the first one. I also got someone here for you to see to see how good of a whore you are and then - then if you do my man right, we’ll see about what comes next.” Well that perked me right up and in my excitement I ran right into the back of my BBC guide who had stopped in the middle of the trail, seemed to orient himself, then pushed through a small gap in the bushes on the left side of the path. Lucky for me he was tall and created a darker shadow to follow. He only went about 5-feet before he stopped, and asked, “How’s it going Russell?” I stepped up beside my guide into a small space that had been beat out in the middle of a bunch of the tall bushes. There was a black guy who was clearly homeless sitting on the ground, smoking a hand rolled cigarette, his face highlighted by the cast from a little fire burning in coffee can. My BBC guide pulled out my stack of tips that he had left, peeled off a $5, tossed it on the ground and said, “I brought you some white ass. Got a fresh boy here who’s trying to learn to be a good street whore and I know with how things are, you don’t get pussy like you used to. Figured you could use some.” The homeless man groaned as he stood up, looked at me, “You trying to take some dick boy?” he asked. I looked from him to my BBC bouncer and back. Yeah I had taken the guy on the street corner up from Garrett’s house who was begging for money, but that was really my only experience with homeless dick and somehow this seemed - ‘worse’. “Yes,” I said. He huffed liked he didn’t believe me. I dropped my shorts, turned, “Come on, stick it in me,” I said. He laughed, “What? You think I lay up around here with a hard dick just waiting for pussy to stumble on by? You got to work my shit first. Nice ass though. You gonna let me bust one in it? Want me to wipe my dick off a bit before you start sucking it? No? Jesus man, think you may have a real freak whore here.” I got on my knees, careful not to tip over the coffee can fire pit and although the dick he pulled out of his pants was crusted, ripe, and smelled like an outhouse, I gobbled that stink stick down. My BBC guardian stood behind us watching and smoking a fresh rock on his pipe as I worked the flesh pipe in my mouth, got it hard, turned around, and let him push it into my ass. “I WANT YOUR CUM IN ME RUSSELL, FUCK IT - FUCK ME GOOD - YEAH JUST LIKE THAT,” I said as the filthy 10-incher pushed in and out of my hole. “CREAM MY WHITE PUSSY MAN, PU T THAT LOAD IN, FUCK IT HARDER, GO ON, HARDER, PLEASE – CUM IN ME…” A few minutes of me talking dirty later, Russell was close, “YOU A NASTY ONE AIN’T YA? HOT DAMN THAT’S GOOD ASS - READY FOR THIS CUM IN THAT ASS? DON’T PULL AWAY NOW - I’M JUST ABOUT THERE - JUST ABOUT THERE - HERE YOU GO - FILLING THAT WHITE ASSHOLE UP - FILLING YOU UP WITH MY DARK ROAST. PUMPING THAT PUSSY FULL WITH MY BIG LOAD.” Russell kept jamming my hole as squirt after squirt was added to the cum remnants already inside me. Finally spent, he yanked his dick out, ordered me to clean it off, and once done, plopped back down on the ground and tossed some more bits of paper and refuse in his coffee can fire, fanning the little flames to life. My BBC guide tucked his pipe back into his boot top, led the way out through the bramble path, and before we cleared the brush he stopped, turned, grabbed me by throat and pulled me close. His beard tickled my face as the wisps of crack smoke from his lungs tickled my nose, “Reach down and touch my fucking dick,” he ordered. I would have gasped in wonder if his hand had been looser. All I could do was gurgle a bit. “Seeing that shit made my dick rock hard. FUCK! If it was later at night I would take your ass right here - let you bleed out in the bushes as I rape that pussy to death - maybe another night,” he warned. I shook with anticipation. He let go, we cleared the brush line, he stopped, looked around like he was getting his bearings, then smiled, “I got the perfect place to go next. Spot be hopping 24/7.” We headed zig-zag north a few blocks, then cut to the west, back over to 14th Street, then further north, and cut west again to 15th. At W Street we turned left and immediately veered right off the sidewalk onto a paved path. My BBC guide had been laser focused on our destination and had barely said two words to me. He seemed like he was jonesing for his pipe – about as bad as I was in need of his - and when I pulled out my bottle of coke to snort some he snatched it from me, stuffed it in his pocket and said, “No. No more. You need to do this next part without flashing that damn bottle to the fucking world. Safer that way, plus I need you ready for the pipe.” He now paused, looked around, there were a few passing the intersection a block over on 16th, but otherwise the streets were quiet. “This is Malcolm X Park,” he explained with a wave to the dark, unlit, path. “The park runs oh several blocks up the hill. The white folks call it Meridian Hill Park. Trying to white wash it like everything else in this city. For now, it’s still the place to go for 24/7 freak shit. Drugs, street trade, just niccas looking to hang and smoke, get a blow job, fuck some ass or pussy. Once we walk through them posts there you stick close. If you with me, no one will fuck with you - well they will - but you know, they won’t try to rob or hurt you or shit. About half way up is a spot I know. Used to be a pump house or something for the fountain that is cut back deep into a wall. I know we’ll find the freak shit there that I want – them rough street trade niccas that will gang rape that pussy good and get it ready for me.” I suddenly got nervous and touched his arm, “Won’t we get busted or arrested or something?” I asked. He laughed, “ Fuck no! The cops know better than to go in there even in the day. Neighbors too. They all stay out, that is of course unless they scoping. This is where shit goes down and oh, right about now, we’ll run into the dudes who have gotten off the night shift, or have been at the after parties and too fucked up to go home, or are fucked up enough to get down on the DL, or guys like me who can come here and get what I want by force if need be and no one saying shit. Hell, I think the cops and the city like leaving it like this. Rundown, overgrown, lights all broken and shit. Cheaper, but keeps the wild shit in a central spot. Otherwise you’d have brothas and the Latinos, and the Maryland boys spread out from Adams Morgan, to Logan Circle, to Capitol Hill trying to find some little spot to get into just a minute of innocent trouble.” Sure didn’t sound like anything innocent happened in this place. Like Logan Circle’s park, this one was overgrown, strewn with trash, lights were busted, and as I gazed up the multi-tiered fountain and steps that cascaded down the hillside, I thought this would be a fucking awesome Halloween haunt. Only it wasn’t All Hallows Eve - it was a hazy morning in the nation’s capital, yet I still hoped for some demons to spawn inside my living flesh. “Wait here,” my BBC guide said as we got about halfway up the Hill and angled off to the right into a thicket of hollies that opened before stone archway. Flickers of lighters and matches were like Polaroid snapshots of the men milling about inside. Two guys passed me heading back the way we came. The looks they gave me were a mix of curiosity and a warning like I was treading on ground where I didn’t belong. A few seconds later the bouncer rejoined me, wrapped his hand tight around my throat and put his face close to mine again, “It’s time. Time to get that ass fucked good. My buddies say the spot’s jumping this morning with limited options, so that means you’re gonna get all the fucking nicca dick and nutt you can handle. Here’s how this is playing out. You and I are going in there and off to the back and side is a stone bench. I’m gonna sit back, kick out my feet, hit my rock, and watch the fucking show. You - you are gonna get naked, get on your fucking hands and knees and lick my boots again. Then - then you are going to experience a RING OF FIRE.” “What is a RING OF FIRE?” I asked. Fingers squeezed tighter to cut off any other questions. “A RING OF FIRE IS A BBC GANG RAPE SPECIAL. THE CALL HAS GONE OUT TO EVERY FUCKING CRACK HEAD IN THE PARK - THAT’S WHERE THOSE GUYS WENT OFF TOO. SOON THIS ALCOVE WILL BE BRIMMING WITH BROTHAS ALL LOOKING TO LIGHT THEIR PIPES UP AND STAND IN A CIRCLE - CREATING A RING OF FIRE AROUND THAT WHITE PUSSY ASS AS ONE AFTER ANOTHER DICK IT DOWN, NUTT UP, AND TAG OFF. YOU MENTIONED YOU TOOK A FEW DICKS THE OTHER NIGHT AT SOME GUY’S HOUSE WITH HIM AND HIS HOMIES WATCHING THE GAME. THAT’S LIGHT WEIGHT SHIT. YOU IN THE RING NOW WITH HEAVY WEIGHT ROCK STARS. COME ON. WHILE WE WAIT, YOU NEED TO GET READY AND THE FIRST FLAME TO GET LIT IN THIS RING WILL BE YOU - TIME FOR YOU TO BECOME A CRACKHEAD WHORE! TIME FOR YOU TO GET BURNED BY THE RING OF FIRE SO THEN IT WILL BE MY TURN AS MY SEED NEEDS TO COME OUT AND BURN THAT ASS!” (*From the author: If you like the story let me know - post a reply or give a reputation. Thanks to everyone who takes the time to read these stories and for the continued support!)

Part 3 - THY KING-DOM CUM: “WELCOME TO FOOT LONG FRIDAYS,” the BBC bull said as he welcomed me into his home. I guessed it was his house. Raymond - the mandingo tagger security guard who nutted me and had given me a ride before handcuffing me and dragging me into the house - had called the man Pops. I was tweaked on Tina and bold and maybe just a tad mouthy when I replied, “Wait - isn’t it Saturday?” SLAP! A good slap to the side of the head shut me up and as I wiped the unexpected tears from my eyes from the sting, the BBC bull stepped closer, the wet tip of his dick pressed between the crack of my closed thighs and he asked, “You know how to serve a dominant black man? YOU KNOW HOW TO SERVE A DOMINANT BLACK KING?” Fucking Christ I about shot a wad right then and there! Seconds later my pants had been hauled down, my white peach ass exposed, my pink hole turned red and wet as I was invited to experience what Foot Long Fridays meant - extra meat! My host calmly explained as he wiggled his 12-inch snake inside my ass like a python slithering in its den, “I’m a BOSS. I got that that uncut bussy beater that likes to fuck throats and stretch holes. I like wet sloppy puss puss. Fucking hell - looks like my boy done me right today bringing me your fucking whore ass. I can smell that nicca nutt dripping out. What’d he give you? Two loads? Three? It’s all good - I know how to use a cum dump that needs it’s box beat and skeeted.” Suddenly my ass had a VACANCY sign in bold neon colors above it as the bull pulled his mahogany dick from my hole and casually walked over to the counter by the door to the garage. I clumsily turned around; my hands still cuffed behind my back and my pants now around my ankles. I was breathing hard from the pain of his 12-inch invasion, yet my puny white dick stood straight and tall like a lighthouse against the rough seas. I then started to stammer over my own tongue as the bull pulled out a holster, gun, badge and keys, set them on the ceramic tiled counter, then casually unclipped the gun and badge and hefted them in each hand as if he was the scales of justice trying to assess if my ass was worthy. He walked back to me, held the gold badge out, I squinted and read the words on the gold star DEPUTY SHERIFF - PRINCE GEORGE’S CO. Fuck he was a cop! My eyes wide, the bull laughed, “Yeah, I’m a LEO - Law Enforcement Officer, but that don’t stop me from fucking over pussy bottoms like you. You a pussy bottom? Want this big mandingo dick tagging that ass again?” While I tried to get my mouth to form a reply the bull daddy held up a small set of keys, “Those handcuffs my boy clamped on you look tight? Are they too tight? Here, let me fix that.” I naively smiled, turned, and pushed my locked wrists back so he could take the cuffs off. A snick and turn and the right cuff dropped away from my wrist. I exhaled in relief, brought my arm around and with the cuff still dangling from my left arm began to rub it, joyous in my freedom. “WHAT THE FUCK! HEY - WHAT THE FUCK YOU DOING MAN -STOP - NO NO NO!” I cried out. Too late. The BBC daddy bull grabbed my wrists and with ease reclamped the handcuffs around them once again so I was bound and chained – this time with my hands in front. I grunted as Raymond’s pops spun me around and slammed all 12-inches of his swollen dick back into my wet ass. My handcuffed wrists clanged against the old tile of the kitchen counter as the BBC dick slid in and out and back and forth like a lumberjack. “YOU EVER BEEN JAIL FUCKED? I GIVE FAGGOT BOYS LIKE YOU THAT FIRST LESSON OF WHAT IT’S LIKE TO GET DICKED RAW THEN THROWN INTO GEN POP FOR ANYONE BIGGER THAN YOU TO BREED THAT BITCH ASS. READY TO GET THAT ASSHOLE RAMMED? GET THAT SPINAL TAP? YOU BETTA SNORT YOUR TINA UP YOU TWEAKED OUT FREAK - I GOTS THAT BOSS DICK AND PLAN TO DEEP STROKE THAT HOLE, BANG IT OUT, QUENCH THAT THIRSTY PUSSY!” I cried, yelped, squirmed, whimpered, pleaded, and begged as that 12-inch bull dick took charge and rape fucked my raw ass like a man who had been offered his first bite of food in days. I screamed in frustration as once again he yanked his dick out, leaving my hole gaping and feeling air. He laughed as he slapped my ass hard, “FUCKING BITCH, CHILL A SEC. I GOTTA BURN ONE THEN WE’LL GET THE FREAK BACK ON.” I was prancing my ass back and forth like a ballerina in the Nutt Cracker as my ‘slut mode’ kicked in and my hole wanted to swallow that dick to the root! I sighed and my eyes rolled back in my head as Pops started banging me again, slamming me against the kitchen counter like some $2 whore. “QUIT YOUR SQUIRMING!” he demanded, “YOU WANT THIS DICK OR WHAT? IF YOU WANT SOME MORE NUTT IN THAT WHITE PUSSY THEN HOLD THE FUCK STILL AND LET ME WRECK IT, BREAK IT, AND TREAT IT BAD. BREED YOU LIKE THE SKANK PUSSY TAIL YOU ARE. I DON’T DO STREET BITCHES, BUT I WILL TURN YOU OUT AND MAKE YOU INTO ONE. THAT WHAT YOU WANT? WANNA BE A STREET BITCH WHORE? LET A BUNCH OF NICCAS TAG THAT PUSSY UNTIL IT’S DRIPPING AND DROPPING CREAM? YOU A WORTHY PUSSY BOY FOR MY LOAD? ARE YOU? TELL ME HOW GOOD YOU ARE - HOW WORTHY YOU ARE? HOW MUCH YOU DESERVE MY FUCKING NUTT! FUCK YEAH - TELL ME - FUCK YEAH BEG FOR THIS BOSS DICK - FUCK YEAH TAKE THIS FUCKING LOAD MOTHA-FUCKA!” Minotaur semen drizzled from my heifer hole as the BBC bull continued to seed me deep. It took a long time for his shaft to soften, and when it finally did and he eased back out of my hole he cuffed the side of my head, “GET THE FUCK ON YOUR KNEES, LICK THAT DICK CLEAN.” I was happy to oblige and greedily suckled and nursed on that thick shaft, tasting the rank and file of his deep fuck. But then as soon as the blood began to engorge him again he slapped me again, “Get the fuck up. Come on.” I huffed in frustration at now having two holes free of dick. I snorted some more Tina, stood up, awkwardly tried following after him then stopped, kicked my sneakers off, pulled my pants all the way off, and finally feeling free, walked around the bar counter to the dining area where he was seated at the head of the table, legs splayed, his dick dripping aftermath onto the old, worn carpet. The BBC bull relit his blunt, exhaled, the wafts of smoke like gossamer in the early morning sun that peeked in through the sliding glass doors that opened to the back yard. He looked at me and said as a statement and not a question, “YOU’RE A TAGGING SLUT.” OK, yeah, no shit Dick Tracey. He pulled his phone close, “Let me text the guys and let em know I got a tag team whore here needing that pussy gaped.” Again - not a question or even asking - just a statement. While my BBC host seemed chilled and satisfied I was anxious and horny as fuck. I was also itching to get those damned cuffs off and roughly slapped my chained wrists up on the table in front of him. He glared at me like I had just nicked the Crown Jewels. Fuck that table was older and more worn than the house and I easily counted a dozen scorch marks around his ashtray from where somebody let smokes burn out on the wood. He shook his head as if in answer to a question only he could hear then said, “I’m a LEO - Prince George’s County Sheriff's Department, but I’m off for the next several days so I plan to be that straight-up-buck and party and fuck til my balls drop off.” I started to say, “Yeah you said that already,” but caught myself and instead said, “Is Raymond your son? Like biological son or just play son?” He laughed, “Play son? Whatever the fuck is that? No, he’s my blood son. I was 12 when his momma popped him out.” I must have choked on my Tina spit, because he laughed then continued, “Yeah I was fucking and breeding pussy as a real youngin. I had to. Christ, my balls and dick just ached all the God damn time. By 17 I had 5 kids spread around the DMV that I knew of and sure there was a lot more, but my boy’s the only one still in the area.” he then paused, inhaled his smoke, looked off into space a bit somber, then said, “My daddy had tried to tell me when the first one came along but I didn’t listen.” Time slowly marched on as he sat there, his words hanging in the air, mixing with his weed smoke. My Tina ADD kicked and I huffed and asked, “Tell you what man?” My BBC bull host took his time to reply to my prodding question, “My daddy told me that with a dick like mine and being the horny fuck that I was born to be - just like him - to not make the same mistakes he made and to only fuck street whores, gangbang sluts, and boy pussy. The hole didn’t matter as long as I got my nutt and dropping a bunch of babies was not worth it. He was right. I might have learned late, but by the time I hit 18 and went to college that’s all I fucked - whores, sluts, and boy butt and my boy’s listened better than I did and learned right.” Yeah, I could attest to that. Then my eyes got wide and my mouth made a little “OH!” joyous sound as what he said finally connected in my Tina-addled brain - I had just taken loads from a son and his father - both huge BBC - fucking hot! The mandingo’s phone started buzzing and skittering on the rough hewn tabletop. He set the blunt between his lips, his eyes squinching as he inhaled and read and scrolled through the messages. He set the phone down, put the blunt on the chipped edge of the ashtray, and as the plume of 420 smoke twirled and whirled towards the cobweb covered ceiling light above he smiled and said, “Some of the fellas are on their way so we can all keep fucking the shit outta you. We all professional guys - let’s see - there’s a fireman from one county over, some white collar office guys, a landscape company owner. Oh damn! Bet he would like seeing you get ganged by his work crew! A couple of post office workers and other federal government folks and a few armed service buddies - maybe a dozen or so of us who are tight with another dozen or two I can hit. Don’t worry about no hood ghetto stupid antics shit. We’re all professional and straight, married, single, divorced, widowed, or whatever, but what we got in common is true horse shaft dicks meant to train bitches and we like barebacking whores. I know you’re a tagging whore and since I already dipped and slipped up in that jizzed pussy know you ready for the next level of the game. My son’s still a youngin and trust - we go hard! But….” There was a long, drawn out pause as he hit the blunt again, exhaled, savored the sweet, tangy, high, then said, “But first, we gotta shave that pussy. You got a bunch of short and curlies back there like you full of BBC protein and it’s ‘Pussy Hair Gone Wild’!” I followed the BBC bull up the carpeted stairs, down a hall, through a bedroom with a half made, rumpled bed, and into the master bath. The counter was covered with the typical manly mess, scattered half-smoked blunts, and other drug/personal grooming paraphernalia. I was ordered to bend over the piss caked toilet and my hole quivered as the BBC bull licked his lips, fingered my cummy hole, wiped the edges dry, used a pair of electric trimmers to do a quick shearing, then took a cheap drugstore razor and began trimming as my bussy bush. I yelped as my crack got nicked, and instead of apologizing he just gave me a hard slap across the ass and laughed. Lesson learned - a dude chilled out on 420 is probably not the best barber for your tender bits. A few more wipes with the dry towel and he asked, “You ready to get pistol whipped by this LEO dick?” I bent forward with my head as far into the crusty toilet bowl as I could, my cuffed hands resting on the rim, opening my hole, fluttering my bussy lips, and begged for him to fuck me. I wanted to be used, degraded, dominated, humiliated, and stuffed with his 12-inches. He just laughed, walked back towards the door, grabbed a blunt, and lit up and headed back down stairs. Damn it! I paused before following, snorted two big nostrils full of Tina, then repeated. Fucking Christ that burned! Maybe I should get some water. I left the bathroom, headed down the stairs and towards the kitchen and was surprised when I did not find the BBC bull waiting. I took a dirty glass out of the sink, ran the tap, downed some water, and about jumped out of my skin when he bellowed from behind me, “GET THAT ASS OVER HERE - WHAT THE FUCK YOU DOING?” I turned, followed; we went down the stairs this time and through a wooden door into the basement that looked like some animal had tried to claw it’s way through it to get out. The BBC bull said, “It’s rare that houses around here have a basement, but I had it added for extra when the house was built. This a place where the brothas can come, hang out, chill, watch a game on the big screen, drink, smoke or do whatever they want and when things get really rolling and we happen to find that whore hole that can handle being tagged by a mandingo pack who are all swinging big double digit dicks, then we also got a special place for that…” I stood outside a white door off to the side as he stepped into the next room, flicked a switch and had to smile as the dim lights barely illuminated a dark den of twisted sin. I followed him over to a credenza that was against the wall and watched as he started to roll a fresh blunt. I turned and looked around at the fuck bed in the middle of the room, the benches, pillows, a TV that he used the remote to turn on that was playing BDSM porn. I turned back when he slid a plate my way and said, “Snort up chem slut.” I then watched as he emptied several small baggies of pills into little candy dishes including one he piled high with Viagra. He then opened a drawer and pulled out huge bags of weed, then bags of Tina, and more. “Are you a drug dealer?” I asked. “Fuck no,” he replied, “You ever watched Power? You know the TV show with 50 Cent? I’m the distro. Fucking baby mamas drain me dry, so…well let’s just say I need to keep my side hustles going, but this bit of shit? This ain’t nothin. This is just same Candy Crush for the brothas. Here’s how shit going down - this ain’t about hanging out and becoming Facebook friends - it’s about a hot hole meeting a hot shaft and taking hot cum. These niccas will roll in, find you ass up/strung up - rape that shit, nutt, and bounce or maybe hit it again and repeat as some of the brothas are fucking long winded especially after they start dropping the pills. We may be professionals, but behind this door we can let the street thug in us out! We WILL hurt you. We WILL rape you. We WILL knock you out. We WILL chem you up until you pass out. The whole basement is sound proofed and this room is done like double, so you can fucking scream, cry, whatever as no one will hear and frankly that shit will make our dicks drip. I got one bro with 14-inches who will make you scream no matter what and I love fucking pussy after he’s dug around in it. What you want or say from now on don’t matter as we don’t give a fuck cause you’re getting fucked the way we want, how we want, when we want. You understand?” I shook in excitement and fear as I snorted more Tina and my eyes rolled back in my head as before I could catch my breath a dry, 12-inch BBC shaft was ripping back up my ass, “YOU READY FOR SOME MORE KING-DOM CUM IN THAT BUSSY? BEND THE FUCK OVER AND LET ME DIG BACK UP IN THERE. I LOVE SEEDING PUSSY THAT’S ALREADY WET WITH MY DNA. EVERY MANDINGO THAT COMES THROUGH IS GOING TO FUCK YOU RAW AND BREED YOU AS THEY TAG IN AND OUT.” The bull paused as he took another hit of his blunt, set it in the ashtray, reached into another drawer and pulled out a chewed up, brown leather belt. With his dick in my ass and my body pressed against the credenza he slipped the belt over my head, across my mouth, and like a good sub I instinctively opened my mouth as he worked the rough leather between my teeth like a harness bit. He yanked my head back and demanded, “RIDE THAT FUCKIN DICK! RIDE IT! WANT THIS KING NUTT? THIS DOM CUM? THIS KING-DOM CUM IN THAT PUSSY? FUCKIN TWEAKED OUT FAGGOT WHORE MAKE THAT ASS BOUNCE AND CLAP IF YOU WANT THIS SHAKE SHACK MILK IN YOU! FUCKING NASTY TAGGING SLUT - CUM SLUT. ARCH THAT GOD DAMN BACK! SHOW ME YOU’RE A SEX FREAK PUSSY HOLE. LET ME WRECK IT DEEPER - YOU WANT THAT 14-INCHER JIZZING YOUR GUTS? HUH? SHOW ME YOU WANT IT. I DON’T CARE IF YOU THINK YOU CAN’T FUCKING TAKE OR IT WON’T FIT. SMASH YOUR HOLE BACK ON MY DICK - THAT’S IT - SLAM BACK - LET ME SEE YOU BREAK YOUR OWN HOLE OPEN AS I BEAT IT DOWN WITH THIS LEO NIGHT STICK! TURN YOU INTO A JIZZ JUNKIE!” I was chewing at the leather belt in my mouth, spit drooling from the edges of my lips as I gripped the edge of the credenza with my cuffed hands and pushed back as hard as I could onto the BBC bull dick that was cutting and splitting me wider. “PUT IT BACK IN! PUT IT BACK IN!” I frustratingly pleaded as he yanked his dick out, dropped the belt on the floor, kicked the buckled end with his foot, then stepped beside me, relit his blunt, picked up his cell and checked the status of the other taggers. Fuck I hate when tops do that! Just as my hole opens up and I get into the groove they pull up sort. He exhaled, turned, pointed to an orange loop hanging from a dark length of chain from the ceiling, “See that?” he asked, “That’s my newest bitch fucker. Here - look at the site on my phone - https://www.mr-s-leather.com/suspension-hand-slings - It’s a Mr. S suspension sling. Me and the guys are going to chain you up just like this and fuck the livin shit outta you!” Two text messages popped up on the screen, he smiled, hit the blunt, set the phone down and said, “The brothas have started to arrive. I’ve got about 30-seconds before I have to start sharing that cunt - now bend the fuck over and take this KING-DOM CUM!” (*From the author: If you like the story let me know - post a reply or give a reputation. Thanks to everyone who takes the time to read these stories and for the continued support!)

Part 2 – Mandingo Tagger Tag Teams: I could smell his need to fuck as I walked past the security guard who had unlocked and opened the office door for me. Maybe it was because he partially blocked the door as I came through so that in order to get past him I had to rub my ass against the firm bulge in his pants. The office door clicked and locked, four sets of eyes stared me down, but like I said, being tweaked out on Tina makes me bold. “Pay to play huh?” I asked rhetorically, “How’s that saying go? Don’t let your mouth write checks your ass can’t cash? Well my ass is flush, ready, willing and fucking able to take whatever the fuck you guys got!” While one guy huffed in frustration, as he had to help someone who had stopped at the desk, the other three shoved me into the small bathroom, blocking any chance of escape. I looked around and screwed up my face in disgust - these fuckers were filthy! That bathroom looked like it had never seen a cleaning and smelled like an outhouse. One of the new guys turned and slapped the two that had been there earlier on the chest and said, “Yo, cover for us for a few. I need to teach this fag a lesson.” The bathroom door closed and it was just me and him. I backed up to the brown, crusty sink as the drip of the faucet mixed with the beat of my heart pounding in my ears. This security guard looked pissed, mean, and like he wanted to beat the fuck out of me and for a brief instant I questioned my tactics. He then closed the gap between us, grabbed me by throat, bent me backwards, and as he snarled and spittle flew he said, “I AIN’T DOWN WITH ALL THAT FAG SHIT AND MY DICK ONLY FUCKS PUSSY - REAL WOMAN PUSSY YOU FEEL ME? BUT MY BABY MAMA LEFT ME WITH BLUE BALLS THIS MORNING WHEN I TRIED TO GET SOME, SO I WILL - FUCKING PAY ATTENTION - I WILL LET YOU SUCK ME ONLY AND YOU WILL SWALLOW MY NUTT. NO HANDS. DON’T FUCKING TOUCH ME. JUST GET ON YOUR KNEES AND LET ME BLOW DOWN YOUR THROAT.” I gasped for air for a sec, got on my knees, tried to angle back and forth to unzip my pants and got a swift kick in the balls, “YO FAG BOY - NONE OF THAT SHIT,” the security tagger said, “I TOLD YOU. I AIN’T LIKE THAT. NOW SHUT THE FUCK UP AND GIMME SOME NECK. SHOW ME WHAT A CUM HUNGRY FAG YOU ARE FOR THIS BIG BLACK DICK AND TASTY CREAM NUTT!” A few minutes later he flung the door open and announced to his buddies, “Fucked that bitch ass good,” then proceeded to the desk. The next security guard came in, closed the bathroom door, and said, “You trying to get that ass tagged again? Bro out there said you was slutted out by the homies upstairs - used like a fucking whore - banged out in the window and all kinds of crazy shit. That true? Yeah? Fuck yeah! Gimme a snort and let me up that ass, I got a huge fucking nutt to drop.” I grimaced as his big dick split my hole open, cracking apart the dried Mandingo Tagger loads, reopening the cuts and scrapes in my ass, peeling back the fresh scabbing and sanding my gut lining smooth with his rough BBC. “DID MY CO-WORKER BREED THAT ASS? HUH? YEAH? YOU SURE? FEELS AWFUL FRESH, BUT THEN I GET TO BUST IT OPEN. I KNOW THAT NICCA FRONTIN - PLAYIN LIKE HE A FREAK ASS MOTHA FUCKA BUT HE AIN’T - NOT LIKE ME. I LIKE THAT FREAK SHIT - RAUNCHY SHIT - NASTY SHIT. OH HELL YEAH, SMELLING THAT NICCA NUTT NOW DRAINING OUT. FUCK YEAH! HITTIN THAT SLOPPY PUSSY - YEAH BITCH BEND THE FUCK OVA AND TAKE MY DICK - TAKE IT! TAKE THAT DICK! TAKE IT! TAKE THAT DADDY DICK - HELP A DADDY OUT - DADDY DICK-EM - DADDY DICKIN THAT PUSSY!” the second security guard tagger exclaimed as he added his load. The long BBC was yanked from my slimed hole, “Oh fuckin hell,” the security guard said as he looked down at his pants. They were crusted and stained with mandingo nutt juice and white bussy ass slime. I smiled, kneeled in front of him and started lapping at his polyester uniform pants. My tongue swiped, swabbed, and suckled the curdled mix and in addition to getting his pants Spic-n-Span clean, it made his dick rock hard again. “God damn it!” he growled as he tried adjusting himself. Without a word I bent over the sink, looked in the mirror and met his eyes and said, “Come on man, push another load in, see how deep your dick can go now that I’m opened up.” Good thing the sink was bolted well to the wall as I had to hold on for the BBC rollercoaster fuck he threw down and knew I would have big bruises at the top of my thighs from being slammed into the dirty porcelain sink as he seeded me with another mandingo load. Finally satisfied, and his uniform clean, the security guard opened the door, stepped out, and was replaced by the guard I had shared my Tina with when I first got into the building. He turned and locked the door, then paused and looked at me. He was handsome, younger than me, and on the outside looked like he was clean cut, but his eyes showed a freak flare - a flame of nasty that burned bright. The security guard held out his right hand, palm up, a fat baggy of white offered, “Thought you might be needing some more meth. The way you putting that shit down, would be a fuckin damn shame if you started to come down. I like cum sluts that are fucked up - you fucked up? You need some more mandingo dick? Yeah? You ain’t been filled yet? I got 10.5 inches that’s as fucking thick as my wrist that says you will be.” I grunted as he dropped his drawers, started digging at my hole with his long nails, held my breath as I felt him slice my gut lining, then cried out as he slammed into me and pressed me against the wall, “YOU LIKE THAT?” the security guard asked, “SUBMIT TO ME BITCH BOY - ARCH THAT FUCKING BACK AND LET ME IN THAT BLOODY HOLE. I FEEL ALL THAT NICCA NUTT SLOPPING AROUND - JESUS YOU GOT A DEEP PUSSY! EVER TAKE A FIST? NO - HMM - WELL THAT’S GOOD. COME ON SLUT - PUSH YOUR HIPS BACK - RIDE ME - WORK THAT NUTT OUTTA MY BALLS - WORK IT - TWERK THAT PUSSY ASS. HOW YOU GOING TO PAY ME BACK FOR THE METH? YOU ALREADY SNORTED SOME SO WHATCHA YOU GOIN TO DO FOR ME? ANYTHING? THAT RIGHT? ANYTHING? HELL YEAH, I KNOW EXACTLY WHAT YOU CAN DO - FUCK YEAH. SEEDING YOU RAW - FILLING YOU WITH MY SPICEY JIZZ! HELL YEAH! TAGGING THAT BUSSY WITH MY PAINT - TAGGING YOU WITH ‘CUM HERE’ WRITTEN IN BBC JIZZ - THE BEST SORTA PAINT FOR THEM GUT WALLS.” I leaned against the wall, breathing heavy like I had just spent a long, hot summer day doing manual labor. The Tagger security guard who had just bred me chuckled, smiled, held out his hand and said, “I’m Raymond.” I was going to reply then my ass cramped, burped, and BBC nutt and ass juice sluiced out the back and sprayed the wall. “Oh fuck!” I said, thoroughly embarrassed. Raymond’s face got serious. His left hand came up and smacked me good as he said, “Get the fuck down there and lick that up. I didn’t drop a nutt for you to waste it. Now use that fucking tongue!” OK, the walls were streaked with dark, yellow stains from all the piss that had missed the toilet, so I got a mouthful of nutt, ass juice, and dried, old piss, and my dick twitched and hole needed more. I started to pull back and Raymond slammed my head forward into the drywall, “SHOW ME WHAT A SUB HUMAN BITCH HOLE YOU ARE - LICK THAT SHIT UP - THAT’S IT - OBEY YOUR FUCKING MASTER!” My tongue scraped the spooge and filth off the wall and then I yelped as Raymond squatted behind me and slammed his dick back in, “THAT’S IT YOU NASTY SLUT - USE THAT FUCKING TONGUE! DON’T MISS A FUCKING SPOT. THEM WALLS BETTER BE SHINY AND CLEAN IF YOU WANT SOME MORE NUTT IN THE HOLE. JESUS CHRIST YOU A FREAK! YOU JUST A SUB-HUMAN FAG FUCK HOLE AREN’T YOU? SPIT SHINE IT - SPIT ON IT - COME ON NOW - THIS CRAZY SHIT’S GETTING ME CLOSE. MILK MY DICK. MILK MY PIPE - LET ME LAY THAT PIPE IN THEM GUTS YOU NASTY FREAK! LET’S MAKE SOME OREOS AND I GOT THE MILK - COME ON NOW - FUCKING JIZZ WHORE - FUCKING JIZZ DUMP - SLURP THAT SHIT - SLURP IT - OH OH OH OH!!” “You going to give me a ride home?” I meekly asked as Raymond stuffed his now deflated dick back into his pants and zipped. He gave a look, a dismissal wave, and a “PHEW,” before opening the door and leaving me standing there, my tongue coated in bathroom funk and my ass coated in Tagger nutt. His fellow security guard had his dick out and was spitting on it before the damn door even closed. “MY FUCKING WIFE IS PINGING ME WONDERING WHERE THE FUCK I’M AT. YOU MADE ME LATE. AIIGHT - TIME TO HIT THAT SHIT - I GOTTA BLOW THIS NUTT AND BOUNCE OUTTA HERE!” Far too quickly my ass was reloaded and I was alone in a rank bathroom that was cleaner then when I started. I felt like I had to piss, but nothing came out, so I got my pants on, did a few huge snorts of Tina for the road, and walked back out to the office. The two security guards now on duty ignored me. There were folks coming in and out of the lobby and while not morning, it was getting closer so the clubs must have let out and folks were coming home and those real freaks were heading out for their second wind to party, play, drink, or whatever. I knew the general direction back to the city and made my way out of the parking lot and started hoofing it down the sidewalk. The streetlights cast a hazy, spotty glow and only about 1 in 4 were actually working. I was too tweaked out to be scared or give a shit and paid no mind to the cars whizzing by. I was mumbling to myself as I walked, pissed that the Mandingo Taggers took all my cash, pissed that no one would give me a ride, but then smiled as I felt the warmth of nutt seep out of my banged out ass hole. “YO - YO - FUCKING YO MAN!” a voice sounded from my left. I paused, turned, and white car slow rolled up beside me with green/gold letters on the door that said ‘PARKER SECURITY’. It was Raymond, who had been by far the best fucker out of the four Mandingo Tagger security guards. I stopped, smiled, walked over to the open window, bent forward and placed my arms crossed on the door and asked, “What’s up officer?” Raymond put his right hand forward on the seat and leaned closer to the open window, “Get that fuckin ass in this car man,” he sniped. I opened the door, slid in, shut the door, Raymond cranked up the tunes and picked a lit joint out of the ashtray and hit it, then offered it to me. I declined, reached into my pocket and pulled out the baggy of Tina and took a big snort then rubbed some on my gums. He smiled, shook his head as smoke streamed from his nostrils and out the open driver’s side window. We drove for a few minutes then I looked around and said, “Hey man, the city’s back that way I think. Where we going?” Raymond exhaled, shook his head, “I need to stop at the house first, don’t get your fucking panties in a wad.” He knew about the red lace panties I wore to meet the Mandingo Taggers? No, I was just paranoid. Several minutes - another joint and more meth later - we pulled into the long driveway of a good sized house at the end of a Cul-de-Sac that looked like about every other house we had driven by in this suburban dead zone. It seemed like even the crickets new not to make noise. All the street lights worked, a few lawns had automatic sprinklers going, there was even a paper boy that we passed on his bike as he artfully tossed the extra-large weekend edition up onto the porches and walkways. The garage door slowly raised up, Raymond eased his cruiser in to the left of a full-sized, pickup truck, set the car in park, and finished off his blunt while the garage door closed. “Come on,” he said. I got out of the car, walked around the front, “After you,” Raymond said as he pointed to the steps and the white door that led into the house. Just as I got to the bottom step and placed my hand on the railing, Raymond grabbed my right wrist, yanked it back, clamped cold steel around it that pinched deep into my flesh, then in my state of confusion and wonder he grabbed my left wrist, and did the same as he cuffed my hands together behind my back. “WHAT THE FUCK?” I bellowed. Raymond shoved me to the side and slammed me face first into a set of metal tool cabinets, “SHUT THE FUCK. YOU OWE ME FOR THAT BIG BAG OF METH YOU GOT STUFFED IN THEM POCKETS - TIME TO PAY UP.” I chuckled, smiled, turned my head and said, “Damn dude. All you had to do was ask. You know I’d let you fuck me again.” Raymond shook his head and the right side of his upper curled in a wicked smirk, “Yeah, it ain’t me man that will be breaking that pussy open.” I stumbled up the steps, Raymond reached past me and turned the knob, we entered a dimly lit kitchen right out of the 1980s filled with yellows, avocado greens, and dark browns. I was left standing in the middle of the kitchen floor as Raymond walked over to the hallway and peered up through the stair opening towards the second floor and hollered, “POPS - YO POPS - YOU UP NICCA? POPS! I KNOW YOU AWAKE AND BAKIN - CAN SMELL THAT JAMAICAN SHIT - COME ON DOWN AND LOOK WHAT I BROUGHT YOU.” While we waited, I heard thuds and sounds from upstairs. Raymond leaned against the counter, lit a half-smoked joint that was in an ashtray, and looked at me with a smile. “Look man,” I said, “I just want to go home. We cool?” Fucking rent-a-cop on a power trip - God damn it! Raymond walked over, fished the baggy out of my pants, pulled a plate down from the cupboard, expertly cut up several lines, then held the plate under my nose with his left hand while pinching a nostril with his right so I could snort up. Fuck that shit burned! I knew I had meth around my nostrils and was ready to ask him to wipe it off or shove it in when the light in the front hallway dimmed, a baritone voice growled and muttered, and the tangy, sweet smell of Jamaican weed hit my nostrils. I turned and gaped as a Minotaur from ancient legends stepped into the room. Tall, black, muscled with tattoos that covered his right arm, ran up the right side of his neck, and looped down to encircle a large animal paw print with extended claws on his right pec. However, his left side was totally free of ink - giving him a sideways/off balanced look. The joint between his lips glowed as he inhaled, making me look at his face. He had on a do-rag skullcap that appeared to be covering his tightly braided hair as some of the braids looped around from the nape of his neck and fell neatly under his chin. I followed his left hand as he removed the joint from his lips, set it in the vacant spot in the ashtray, then reached down and rolled about 3 inches of foreskin back from the head of his bull dick, exposing a bright pick tip that was dripping nectar of the gods. Raymond walked over to him, leaned in, whispered, waved his hand around a bit, whispered, as the BBC bull eyed me. Raymond then headed to the stairs and yelled back, “I’M TAKING THE CHARGER POPS. YOU GOT THIS?” Pops stepped closer to me, his bare feet leaving sweaty, moist marks on the linoleum floor. He eyed me up and down and said, “WELCOME TO FOOT LONG FRIDAYS.” Stay Tuned for Part 3 - THY KING-DOM CUM (*From the author: If you like the story let me know - post a reply or give a reputation. Thanks to everyone who takes the time to read these stories and for the continued support!)

“DOES THAT RAW DICK FEEL GOOD BOY? IS THAT WHAT YOU NEEDED?” The bottom had tried crawling forward, his body reacting to the infectious AIDS T-Bone I had just shoved in his booty hole - dry. He didn’t get far. His doggy masked head shook from side to side as his manicured pink nails - hidden inside his puppy costumed paws - tried to hold their grip on the edge of the bed. “GET BACK HERE BOY! STAY!” I snarled as I yanked my dick out of his rare hole, grabbed his wrists, dragged him back to where I wanted, and then mounted him again. My POZ drip mixing with his bloody hole was all the lube the pup needed. The pup’s dog tags jangled and jingled. “FEEL THAT BIG DICK KNOTTING YOU BOY?” He might have said something, but then arched his back and yelped like a good pup when I yanked out and slammed back in. I yanked out again, took a second to admire his furry little hole - surrounded by a touch of pink, now red, skin. His hole was the only thing on his body not covered by his pup costume, which was just fine by me. All I needed was someplace to bury my AIDS T-BONE. “BIG AIDS DICK IN THAT ASS BOY - FUCKING YOUR PUPPY HOLE!” The boy bucked, I laughed, grabbed the back of his collar, slid the fingers of both hands underneath and twisted and pulled back. The pup bucked and yelped and my AIDS T-BONE buried a little deeper. “I GOT A SHIT LOAD OF HOT AIDS GRAVY FOR THAT PUP HOLE BOY - FULL OF VIRUS KIBBLES AND BITS!” His little paws were useless. I turned my head to the left and admired myself in the full length mirrors he had on the wall. The small lenses of his two video cameras were not easy to detect, but I made sure they got the shots. I hope he enjoyed watching this later. I hope he enjoyed seeing my wasted body, the skin that hung slightly off my muscles, the ribs that showed in my chest, my hollowed out cheeks and lesioned skin. “THAT’S IT - WHIMPER FOR ME PUP. MY AIDS T-BONE DICK IS FILLING THAT ASS UP - TURNING YOU INTO A FULL FLEDGED BITCH!” The pup gurgled his agreement as I twisted the collar tighter and started to long dick that ass with deeper, filling, stretching and wrecking strokes! I had been eyeing the pup online for a while now. I knew his habits, his secret desires, his voyeuristic pleasures. I knew he liked to secretly record and live stream anonymous dick fucking him. I knew he always insisted on safe sex only - something which he was not only vocal about, but condescending to those who held a different approach to life. “I’M YOUR AIDS SIRE PUP! UNMEDICATED DADDY DOG DICK SLICKING UP YOUR LITTLE HOLE - BUSTING IT OPEN WITH MY BIG KNOT - THAT FORESKIN SLIDING BACK, GETTING READY FOR MY POZ NUTT TO SPADE AND FIX YOU!” A loud, clear, yelp escaped the pup’s lips as I tore open a new path of destruction in his guts. I pressed down on his shoulder blades with my left hand, turned my body clockwise with my dick still buried deep in his furry ass. We formed an AIDs’ cross, ready for his crucifixion. I took my right hand and pushed his right leg outward so his hips raised up a bit, giving me head on access to his sidewalls. “YEAH BOY, PLAYING FETCH. TAKING MY AIDS T-BONE SMACK IN THEM ASS WALLS. OPENING THAT FURRY HOLE SO WHEN MY BALLS MAKE YOU PREGNANT THERE WILL BE LOTS OF BRUISED AND BLOODY SPOTS FOR THEM BABIES TO HOOK UP TO!” The pup’s hole was smearing my dick good now, creaming for my AIDS T-BONE. I yanked out, the pup’s body spasmed from the sudden evacuation, and I easily rotated my position. I used my right hand now to press down between his shoulders keeping his body on the bed and adjusted his left leg and held it so I could damage the other side of his ass walls. The pup’s whimpering told me he was hungry. “GOOD PUP READY TO SUCKLE SOME POZ MILK OUT? GET THAT ASS BACK HERE - THAT’S IT - RIGHT ON THE END OF THE BED AND DROP THEM LITTLE HIND LEGS DOWN. I’M GOING TO DRIVE MY AIDS T-BONE RIGHT UP THAT HOLE AND SQUIRT MY VIRAL MILK! GOOD PUP - TAKE THIS AIDS T-BONE! FEEL IT PUP? FEEL THAT KNOT SWELL? YEAH WHIMPER FOR ME LIKE A GOOD PUPPY - WHIMPER FOR ME AS YOUR SIRE BREEDS YOU - BEG FOR MY POZ MILK! BEG FOR IT PUP - BEG FOR IT - FILLING YOUR PUP ASS UP YOU FUCKING BITCH! FILLING YOU UP!” A couple of hours later I got up my nap. Filling a NEG hole up is always the best thing to get me set for a long nap out in hammock in the afternoon sun. I wiped the sweat from my brow, adjusted my eyes, and pulled up the pup’s homepage. Fuck yeah! Folks had liked our scene and had rated it five WOOFS! Lots of comments about ‘what a great set up’, ‘hot role play’, the ‘realistic fake fluids’. I’d give pup a couple days. He’ll come scratching at my door begging to be let in and when he does, I’ll be ready. (*From the author: If you like the story let me know - post a reply or give a reputation. Thanks to everyone who takes the time to read these stories and for the continued support!)

PART 4: I had not even been in DC for a week and here I was ready to be a gangbang-train run-slut whore-raw bottom for any dick that paid $20 at the city’s biggest sex party. If my friends could only see me now - HA! Garrett - my new landlord/employer/fuck buddy led me to the warehouse/parking garage he owned where the sex party was going to be. We stopped in an alley between the warehouse and a few apartment buildings that faced Rhode Island Ave. He leered at me, held out a brown bottle of coke, had me sniff up, then asked, “WANT A QUICK LOAD UP THAT ASS BEFORE WE GO IN? BEFORE YOU BECOME THE QUEEN - APOLOGIES - THE KING OF SPEED BREEDING? IS THAT ASS READY?” Garrett’s ugly troll dick spewed thick sludge like a sewer pipe and I was tempted to ask if I could stay there in the alley to get fucked, but sighed when he insisted we go on in. The place seemed deserted, but as we walked towards the front, I saw people setting things up - running wires, stocking basic bars, dumping bags of ice into chests full of cans of beer, and more. Garrett explained as he gave me the grand tour, “These parties started out small. Some little basement up off Florida Ave, but after I bought this place, I offered to go in as a partner with the guy who does most of the organizing, and it didn’t take long to literally blow up. This is a warehouse/old parking garage, so lot’s of great spaces to use. We get all the DC queens, but guys come in from Virginia, down from Maryland and Baltimore, fuck we even have some die hards from Philly who come spend the weekend. There’s music, drinks, places to sit and chill and smoke or snort like that area with the couches - and this bed - one of my prize finds - gets a lot of action, but most of it is for show. You get a few die-hard sex hounds who enjoy fucking in front of everyone. Just like that tub over there by the bathroom - that’s for the piss pigs. This is the one night you can find the leather men from the Eagle, the sweater queens from JR’s, the dance queens from Southwest, the street trade from the Fire Place, the sleazy boys from the Green Lantern, all mingling in one place.” A few of the men setting up paused to look at us as we walked by. A couple smiled in a way I would come to learn meant they wanted some raw ass and were down for anything quick and dirty. Garrett clearly knew everyone, but was focused on the tour. I was impressed, even more so when he said, “I clear more money just from the door charge than most of the bars in Dupont do in two weeks. Add in the drinks and other ‘extras’ and that’s another four weeks easy.” I tried to quickly run the numbers in my head and while I did not know what total sales were for all those bars, I knew about what Garrett pulled in at the one where I met him where he was majority owner - damn! We walked up a ramp to an area where there was basically nothing and Garrett explained, “This is the ‘back room’. No lights get turned on up here. There’s a little ambient light from those top windows, but barely enough to see your hand in front of your face. For those guys who can’t loosen up to play around down below, they eventually find their way up here. I know more than one sweater queen who got more than he bargained for when he wandered into the wrong group of guys fresh from the Eagle up here.” I asked if he was worried about the cops raiding the place or anyone getting seriously hurt. “No, not really,” Garrett said. “I know all the cops around here and several of them will work security for the party when they are off duty. I also have a few other guys who wander around, keeping an eye on things, and if on the rare chance someone doesn’t like what is happening fuck this place is crawling with people so easy enough to step away.” My mouth must have been hanging open as I stared around at the ‘back room’, the stains on the floor, imaging all the cum and man sweat that would be shot in here soon. Then I asked, “If you have all this, then why would anyone pay for Speed Breeding? I mean, it sounds like there is plenty of ass here if people want it.” Garrett handed me the bottle of cocaine as he lit a cigarette and shook head, “Yeah, of course. But like I said, a lot of what happens is just looking, touching, a quick suck here and there. People come for the ‘possibility’ of the taboo - few actually have the balls to jump into the deep end. That’s why I have Speed Breeding. True, it’s a little extra cash, but for a lot of guys, all the drinking, teasing, and stimuli would leave them so frustrated they would never come back so I make sure they can get a release. Speaking of - get on your knees and suck my dick while I finish my smoke.” I was slobbering his dick, jacking mine, silently begging for him to shoot in my mouth. He flicked his cigarette butt against the wall, stepped back, I asked, “Can you cum?” He laughed and said, “Not yet. But I will - maybe. You know there’s going to lots of pretty young ass prancing around here tonight and I do so enjoy corrupting the innocent.” Back down on the main level we worked our way through the various areas being set up to the other end of the warehouse/parking garage. Garrett pointed back the way we had come, “Down at the end closer to 15th Street is where cars would enter and that side door is where everyone comes in. Always good to have a line out front as no one wants to go in someplace that’s dead. I also will have porn playing down there just off to the side so that as people come in they hear the sounds of sex. Make them think there is a lot going on. I first tried having the VIP area down there and the Speed Breeding, but works out better this way. Just up there - the end closer to the 14th Street - is the EXIT. This is the VIP area …” Garrett held the door open to what appeared to a couple of old offices. The windows had been covered with black paint. It was very dim and already smoky as the guys doing the set up were all smoking. The guys were all eye candy too and seemed to represent the various groups from a guy in chaps to a preppy guy and more. Through the next room was a door that led into a hall and on each side of the hall was another office. The windows facing into the hall had been painted black. There was a small bed in each room, stacks of paper towel rolls, a garbage can, a small ice chest, a chair, a small TV playing porn with a stack of porn videos beside it, an ashtray, a mirror for cocaine and a few straws, poppers, an assortment of bottles of lube - but clearly absent - no condoms. What I assumed was a closet was actually a toilet and hand basin. “These are the Speed Breeding rooms,” Garrett explained. “While folks may want sleazy, for $20 they expect more than a corner with a shower curtain hung up in front. The process is simple. I have a guy who sits at the hall door at the front there. He collects the money and the men walk into whatever room is free. There is no choosing - they get whatever ass is available - yours or C.O.’s boy. When you shut the door, there is a red bulb that turns on in the hallway and in the room and a timer starts. They get 5 minutes. When the timer runs out both lights go off. My guys will give them a few seconds to get dressed, but then they will open the door if the have to and send them on their way. They can do whatever they want for that 5 minutes - have you tell them a nursery rhyme for all I care, but the goal is to get them to have fun and let loose - literally.” I nodded, understanding. Garrett reminded me, “Remember it’s all about the taboo, the risk. Some guys may want it totally dark - some may want you to suck them first - but 5 minutes goes by awful fast. See that lit box under the red bulb? That’s an old flip timer my electrical guy installed in both rooms - got it from a bank or something. It will count down from 5 minutes so you can keep an eye on the time and speed things along if you need to. Here - let me show you.” Garrett closed the door, the red bulb went on casting a devilish glow, and the timer started to count down from 5:00 with a CLICK as the metallic number tabs turned and the gears whirred; 4:59 CLICK; 4:48 CLICK; 4:57 - fuck that was going to get annoying. Garrett pointed at the timer, “5 minutes to get your ass loaded. Most of the guys will blow in 30 seconds, but if you feel like a guy is not there, ease off, wait out the timer, tell him to circle back around and you will be happy to given him another 5 minutes - for another $20 of course. Be that naked, hungry cum dump I know you are and work those fucking dicks and get their loads. A few rules: If you need to let any of it out, use the toilet there but tell my guys you need a minute, leave the door open and make it quick; Same if you need to snort some lines, drink, or whatever; Don’t drink anything unless it’s from a can you opened and don’t let it sit around so no one slips anything into it - same with the cocaine; There’s a box by the door for TIPS right by the chair and whatever gets put in there is extra and for you only; See the walls here? They only go up to 7-feet so everything that goes on in here can be heard in the main VIP room - faintly - but it can be heard - so the sounds of fucking will get you more dick for sure; The first few hours may be a little slow but things will really start picking up by midnight and then it gets balls crazy from there until 4:00 AM when we have to ‘technically’ close; Don’t leave the room. I need you boys here the whole time; I will have a guy at the other end of the hall so when the men are done fucking, he guides them out that way as the next ones come in the front. They can leave if they want, or come back, or go back to the main event. With your ass I expect you will have a few repeats as I always get a couple perverts - like myself - that hits its early and then again later; and Finally, if you feel for any reason that something’s not right like the guy is too drunk, or gets rough - not play rough, but you know like want to hurt you rough, or anything at all you just holler and both my guys will be in here in seconds. The doors don’t lock. “Give me your keys to the house and anything else you got on you. OK, Any questions?” Garrett asked as he lit a cigarette and absently stroked his bulging troll dick through his pants. I stepped to the door, pulled it open slightly, the red light shut off, the timer whirred and clicked back to 5:00, I shut the door firmly, the red light came back on, CLICK, the timer started. I stepped over to Garrett, unzipped his pants, and started sucking his dick like my life depended on it. “OH JESUS,” he said as he guided my head with his left hand while holding his cigarette in his right. I had not swallowed his cum before and I wanted to taste it - to taste that dirty semen and to have his cum coating my throat for the rest of the night. “SWALLOW THAT FUCKING LOAD - SWALLOW IT ALL - GET EVERY DIRTY DROP - OH CHRIST!” Garrett proclaimed. A few more contractions of my mouth and I eased back, stood up, wiped the spittle and dick juice from the corners of my mouth, looked at the timer - 2:15 - then to Garrett and asked, “Feel better?” He just shook his head, sighed as he stuffed his dick back in his pants, “Ah the eagerness of youth,” he said as if that explained everything. His load was ashy, earthy, sour, and thick and I told myself I wanted more of that sometime too, but now time for business. I followed Garrett as he completed one last walk around. There was just under an hour before they would open the doors and start letting guys in. He introduced me to the host of the event, several of the guys who worked there, and then about 30 minutes out C.O.’s boy Kip showed up. There was just something about Kip. We didn’t click the first time I met him and not then either. I did smile though knowing I had pleased his pimp, C.O., and thinking about the BBC gangbang C.O. had taken me to and then him fucking me in Garrett’s backyard made me horny as hell and raring to go. I stepped away from the group, turned into a corner, did a huge snort out of the brown bottle and told Garrett I was going to go get ready. The music had cranked up, voices were louder, sounds of a party wound and weaved through the warehouse/parking garage to where I was near the VIP section. The big guy sitting out front collecting the $20 fee didn’t give me his name, but seemed nice enough, told me he would take care of me, and I could not help but eye the bulge in his crotch. The guy who sat at the back end looked like C.O. at first - rough, street looking dude - and in the dim light I could see he was tall, stocky, and the small glare from his smoke showed a full beard. As I approached he got off his stool, towering over me, set his cigarette in an ashtray placed on another stool beside him and said, “May I help you?” He then looked up the hall to the front and I turned and saw Kip leaning out of his room who then yelped and ducked back in. “I just wanted to introduce myself,” I said, “I’m helping Garrett out and….” He didn’t take my offered hand and just noted, “I know who you are.” I turned to go, paused, then sort of stumbled back a step right into the man. I innocently turned my head as I slid my shorts down and quietly said, “No one’s around yet. You want to fuck me?” OK, I am usually not - OK, I am NEVER, that bold, but between the cocaine, the nutt in my ass from earlier, the taste of Garrett’s second load in my mouth, the anticipation of what was to come, I needed my hole poked. His calloused black hand came around my throat, pulled me tight against his body, his denim jeans doing nothing to hide the steel pipe shaft snaking down his right thigh, “YOU TEASING THE WRONG MAN BOY,” he growled, “I ONLY FUCK WHEN I KNOW IT’S ALL GOING IN - EVERY INCH - ASS OR PUSSY - EITHER ONE AND IF THAT MEANS MAKING THAT SHIT BLEED AND TEARING YOU OPEN TO GET IT, I WILL. I AIN’T PLAYIN. I TAKE WHAT’S MINE. ANOTHER TIME, ANOTHER PLACE, YOU’D BE SCREAMING YOUR REGRETS RIGHT NOW. BUT MY MAN’S BEEN GOOD TO ME AND MINE SO I’M NOT FUCKING WITH HIS SHIT. TONIGHT’S HIS BUSINESS AND YOU NEED TO DO YOUR PART AND I’LL DO MINE.” With a grunt he released me, sat back down on the stool, picked up his smoke, and smiled at me through the haze. I boldly reached out and ran my fingers up and down the dark outlines of his manhood and said, “Don’t worry. I’ll handle my business. But when the party’s over, I may need someone to walk me home.” With that invite hanging - along with his ginormous BBC - I went down the hall to my Speed Breeding room, got naked, sat on the bed, snorted a few lines of cocaine, jacked my dick, put some porn on and waited for my first John. I was lost in a movie when the light grew dimmer, the door closed, the red bulb turned on and the timer started - CLICK. The man was short, balding, paunchy, had on glasses, and leered at me with a snaggle toothed smile. I smiled back. I stood up, bent over the bed, and he said, “Oh no, no no. Kiss me.” What? I turned and looked at him. His physical looks didn’t really bother me - hell as a bottom the ‘ugliest’ tops were some of the best fucks - but this guy was effeminate too. It took me a second to remember the saying the guys in Texas used to blurt, “HE OPENED HIS MOUTH AND A STRING OF PEARLS FELL OUT!” or some shit like that. I just was not into fem guys. Clearly I had discovered I had few limits, and a broad range of men I would let fuck me, but this? This was too much. CLICK - the fucking timer. I looked at him, the mirror full of coke, snorted some lines, stood up, and leaned down and kissed the little man as he touched my dick. I had to be the aggressor and slid my tongue between his small, dry cracked lips. He moaned - CLICK. I reached down to touch his dick, “No, no, no. Kiss me.” OK, whatever. Back to his mouth - CLICK. My tongue darted in his mouth. I reached up and held his head - CLICK. I flicked my tongue side to side and up and down - CLICK. He moaned. I added some spit - CLICK. I explored his teeth - CLICK. He pulled back and shook, shivered, and had a small convulsion. Fuck was he having a heart attack? A dark stain appeared on the front of his Khakis. Damn - he just blew his load! The man turned, yanked the door open, and scurried down the hall like a rabbit with a fox on its tail. The big black man - fuck I still didn’t know his name, calmly pushed the EXIT door open, the small man hurried through, then the door was shut. I waved for the black guy to come to the room as I furtively looked to the front and saw the guy who took the cash but no one else waiting. “What the fuck was that?” I asked. The black guy looked at my white skin, reached out and circled my pink nipple as he licked his lips. He smiled. I crossed my hands over my chest and said, “What? Now you want to fuck me?” He just shook his head and went back to his post. I snorted some more coke and waited. The door to my room was slightly further down the hall than Kip’s. I heard his door open, a man walk by who looked at me and smiled as he slicked his hair back and left. Kip’s door closed. OK, tonight was not off to a great start. I didn’t have to wait long for my first load: The next guy that came in was a little drunk for sure, but had a nice, thick uncut dick and like Garrett predicted, he cummed in my ass within about a minute of sticking it in. I had barely lubed my hole up before he got behind me, shoved, pumped, and spurted. A few more guys came through, each much like the last, nothing special to remember except hot nutt in my ass and not one of them asked about safe sex, or a condom, or status. The next guy though - fuck I had to stop and sort several lines of cocaine just to deal with him. Fucking high maintenance. He wanted more light, less light, not that video, did I have condoms, how many loads had I taken? What was my status? Did I know the importance of safe sex? I barely saw his dick before the timer stopped - thank God. When he left I motioned to the guy taking the money and told him, “I will not deal with that asshole again.” That’s all I had to say. More coke, more raw dick, more cum. The music seemed louder, the voices sharper, the shadows darker - damn I was fucked up. Sad though as I barely felt the fucks. I mean nothing against the guys at all, all seemed like nice dicks, but nothing so special that it cut through the high, made my ass ache after, or made me wish I was theirs to take home. That all changed when he walked in. HOLY SHIT! WHAT WAS HE DOING HERE? I had just finished using the closet toilet and wiped the man spooge out of my crack when I sat back on the bed, snorted some lines, and looked up. He walked in, shut the door, unbuttoned his pants and with them around his ankles turned around and stopped - it was one of my friends. One of the guys I had stayed with when I first came to DC. His eyes got wide - he mumbled and fumbled trying to pull his pants up. I stepped over to him, he stood up, I grabbed his dick and stroked and asked, “You trying to fuck or what?” So the backstory recap on why this was weird: The guy who just walked in - I will call him Mr. M - he and I were bar friends, pool table buddies. Nice guy. Big executive in a multinational company, but married and just ‘coming out’. Sort of. Mr. L - who would become his lover - was someone we all met the same night at the bar. He was new to the neighborhood, we asked him to play pool with us, he and Mr. M spent the night together and the rest was wedded bliss. Well things got weird when Mr. M asked me to let Mr. L have one of the spare rooms at my house. He was living in a bad place, had to get out ASAP. Sure, no problem. Well when Mr. L moved in we became friends, sort of best friends I thought. Mr. M seemed a little jealous at times and even once accused me (while at the bar drunk) of sleeping with his new lover Mr. L - which never happened. We were friends. Not my type. I was helping someone out in need, blah blah blah. Anyways, things were just always a little weird after that. Mr. M and Mr. L became a hot power couple, moved to DC, we kept in touch, when my life went to hell they invited me to stay with them but Mr. M always still seemed a little surly. Now here I was, buck-naked and Mr. M had his dick hanging out. They always said they were monogamous, but fuck - I didn’t give a shit. If he was here, he wanted to fuck. I spit in my hand, pressed Mr. M against the wall as I pushed back on his dick and rode his shaft for all I was worth. It took me close to 4 minutes, but he cummed in my ass then quickly wiped his dick off and left. HA! I watched Mr. M practically run out the back door. The black guy at the back looked at me - I looked up front and no one was watching - I stepped into the hall, bent over and spread my cheeks so he could see the fresh load of cum coating my ass pussy. I smiled and walked back into the room, his low growl echoing over the music and sounds of the party. The next few hours were a bit of a blur - too much cocaine. There was a guy who I thought must have been homeless from his stink but he had a huge dick that stretched me good, so I was happy. A couple jock Daddy types who seemed to enjoy fucking rough. Another dude who insisted I find a condom and finally I flung the door open and shoved him into the hall - end of that. Overall the night was OK - not great - but OK. Frankly I had a much better time at the BBC gangbang a few nights prior. Those men were ALL well hung. They fucked with no strings, no drama, and all they wanted was a raw hole to cum in. Drugs, drink, smoke, all on deck along with balls to the wall hardcore fucking. The VIPs at this sex party were just a bit too tame and vanilla for my tastes. Yeah I looked the vanilla part, and could play a JR’s ‘sweater queen’ on TV, but inside I was more of an Eagle slut, or BBC hood slut. I heard there was a bar called Bachelor’s Mill where the BBC went, but the BBC there were only into black holes – not pink ones. Sigh! Garrett was in the tiny doorway of the closet toilet. He handed me a wad of bills and smiled, “From your TIP box,” he said. I blushed, took the cash, not sure exactly where to put it so handed it back to him and said, “Can you…..” Another voice interrupted us as a black hand snatched the cash, took the keys to my apartment Garrett was holding, and as Garrett stepped back, smiling like the twisted fucker he was, the black guy I had teased earlier filled the doorway and said, “HIS PARTY IS OVER. MINE IS JUST BEGINNING. YOU READY FOR SOME BBC SLOW, DEEP, ROUGH BREEDING? NONE OF THIS SPEEDY SHIT - I PLAN TO TAKE MY TIME OPENING THAT ASS PUSSY UP AND FILLING YOU WITH NICCA NUTT” (*From the author: If you like the story let me know - post a reply or give a reputation. Thanks to everyone who takes the time to read these stories and for the continued support!)

Part 5: Hawk gave a wild sweep of his arm, “GET THEM ALL IN HERE. EVERY FUCKING ONE. I DON’T CARE IF THEY SWING THAT WAY OR NOT. I EXPECT EVERY GOD DAMN DICK WITHIN A MILE OF THIS PLACE TO FUCK MR. DEA AGENT HERE. DRUG HIM UP AS MUCH AS YOU WANT. DO WHATEVER THE FUCK YOU WANT. SOMEONE NEEDS TO PAY FOR THIS FUCK UP SO UNLESS ONE OF YOU IS GOING TO STEP FORWARD, THEN IT’S HIM.” My punishment was fast, swift, painful, and complete as one after another of Hawk’s drug crew were escorted into the small room and ordered to mount and breed me. A couple of them did stuff my ass with big meth shards, but not for my enjoyment, it was because they knew the shards would cut and scrape and strip away my gut lining as they were pushed around in my hole by all the dick. The high helped - a little - but what helped more was knowing I had hurt Hawk. He was the biggest meth cooker and dealer in the region and because of his Aryan DNA believed himself to be superior to everyone else. Well that, his huge dick, and his armed men. He suspected, but could not prove, that I had something to do with Chris being picked up. I did. A few years back a buddy of mine who works for another government agency, one far more secretive and into far more shit than the DEA, installed a software program on my phone. While the program appeared to the casual observer to be one of those popular games everyone played, there was a secret level to it that once opened, allowed me to track Chris and whatever phone he was using based on his number. Chris had a long history of drugging out and falling off the deep end and I had to find some way of tracking him down. This program had lots of additional bells and whistles - his phone could be turned on remotely, turned into a recording device of conversations or even other phones around it by creating a small hot-spot. So, between Chris’s phone, and those he was around, I was able to quickly find him, or at least those he had been with recently. The info was uploaded into a secret email account in the cloud as sort of a buffer. It was never real time, but close enough. Hawk and his men would find nothing on my phone. The Assistant D.A. McLeod on the other hand I suspected would have found a great deal that was of interest. Some time later as I laid on the floor covered in the filth of multiple men, shivering from the meth and the shock of abuse to my body, Hawk stomped back in. “Well agent,” he said, far more calmly than he was, “Your phone showed me nothing, although I must admit I was surprised in your taste of music - and porn. Your little friend has now become a risk to me, to this operation, to those I work for. Come with me. We’re shifting operations to a new facility he is not aware of.” I was shoved into the back of an unmarked van still naked except for the tattered remnants of my DEA windbreaker. Hawk slammed me down onto the uneven floor, slid his dick inside my cum filled ass and began pumping me as the van rocked side to side as we turned and drove away. “Head south first,” Hawk instructed one of the armed men sitting against the van wall, “I want Mr. DEA Agent here to know what a true AIDs dump he is when I fill him with another load while we are parked in front of his office building.” Hawk dismissed any feedback about that being unwise and proceeded to fuck me harder, to try to punish me for what he still believed I did. “Since we’re going to be in the neighborhood, why don’t you let me out so I can get back to work? I thought the whole idea was for me to be an asset in the office - not just some fuck toy.” That got me a hard knock to the mouth, a renewed taste of iron as my cut lip opened again, “YOU WILL DO WHAT I SAY, WHEN I SAY. RIGHT NOW - YOU ARE GOING TO MILK A FEW LOADS OUT OF ME. I KNOW EVERY THRUST OF MY SUPERIOR DICK PAINS YOU. I CAN FEEL YOUR BODY TENSE, YOUR MUSCLES QUIVER. YOU CAN FIGHT IT AGENT, BUT IN THE END, I WILL BREAK YOU AND TURN YOU INTO JUST A DEFLATED AIDS BAG. AND OH YES, WHEN WE HAD YOUR PHONE WE USED IT TO CALL YOUR OFFICE AND MY MAN ON THE INSIDE CONFIRMED THE CALL. FAMILY EMERGENCY AND ALL THAT, SO YOU WON’T BE IN TODAY. WE’RE THERE? GOOD. I’M READY TO INFECT YOUR ASS AGAIN AGENT!” Hawk rolled off me, the van pulled away, and I inched closer to the far wall. The two masked guards opposite me were two of the ones who had tortured me earlier. I could see their eyes and I knew somewhere deep down they realized they were marked. Voices rose from the front, the men shifted nervously, Hawk crab walked up to the front seats and shook his head vigorously back and forth and hit the back of the seat with his fist. He turned and glared at me. I wanted to smile, but remained expressionless. The van pulled to the side. Hawk came back, stood over me, raised his fist back and trembled in rage. I stayed still. He then exhaled, lowered his fist, and said, “It appears that my backup lab was just raided by a multi-agency team and a number of my men arrested.” I piled on, “Wouldn’t that be the sort of thing that you would think your ‘people’ inside the DEA, local police, and others would have given you a heads up on?” Hawk growled. I continued, “I could have warned you if I had been at work like I was supposed to be and not here being some fucking chew toy for your pack of dogs. Clearly this is bigger than Chris - or me. I have never been to this other place right? You said Chris had not either so that means you must have a mole. Someone who has been on your team for a while has sold you out.” I looked to the masked men on the other side of the van with a clear, questioning look, then to the two men up front and stated again to Hawk, “Someone sold you out.” Hawk’s head whipped to the side, the front, and back. His eyes narrowed. He calculated loss, risk, safety, and the many forks in the road before him all within seconds. Hawk edged over between the two masked men, placed his left hand on the shoulder of one, his right on the shoulder of the other, leaned in and spoke in a low voice. The two masked guards moved with practiced stealth and grace in a dance of death. Before they could react, the two members of Hawk’s drug gang that had been sitting in the front seats were pulled into the back and any threat they may have posed removed. One of the masked men eased into the driver’s seat, rolled his mask up onto his forehead, and put the van into drive. Hawk looked at his former colleagues, “All threats must be eliminated until I get this under control.” The van rolled over a familiar bump; I was hustled out the side door, up the steps, and into my kitchen. Hawk strolled in and looked around, “For now, we will stay here. What better place to hold out until things settle than a DEA agent’s house, right?” The masked guards did a quick check of the place, confirmed no one else was there, and emptied the chamber of a back up revolver they found in my dresser. Hawk sat at my table like he was king shit. He dumped out two bags of his meth - the Aryan Eagle black and menacing - then proceeded to chop it up. “Come agent. Let’s enjoy ourselves shall we. You and I do not need to be enemies. Frankly I see us as friends who are just - shall we say - getting to know each other. I know you Agent - I know your ass - I know you claim to be a top but when I am inside you and getting ready to spill my toxic seed your hole clenches tight, milking me like a Bavarian maid.” The hours passed. The guards were on high alert, Hawk was on the phone making call after call, trying to get control of a situation that clearly was spinning wild. One of the guards had left to get rid of the van – and the bodies - and when he returned, he had brought with him a large duffle bag that contained a number of bug-out supplies including an entire box of dozens of SIM cards. After every call Hawk switched out the cards and one of the guards would destroy the one just used. Clearly no one was going to track him that way. “Mind if I make some iced tea?” I asked. Hawk shrugged, one of the guards checked the cupboard then nodded. I turned on the faucet and reached over and twisted the little wand on the mini-blinds over the sink. The blinds did not open all the way, but they were open enough - I hoped it was enough. Hawk was calmer and high and still had a trace of meth around his right nostril. He took his shirt off, rubbed his hands over his chest and torso, outlining his tattoos, and admiring his muscled Aryan physique. The guards continued their rounds as Hawk stripped, his massive uncut dick demanding attention being one of those freaks of nature that meth did not make go limp. “Let me just have a little more tea,” I told Hawk as he tried to push me to my knees to suck him. He grunted and stroked his dick awaiting my return. I refilled the glasses of the guards and handed it to them, then returned to the kitchen, knelt on my floor, and let Hawk pummel my throat like I knew he planned to pummel my ass. Had it been enough? Hawk ordered me to bend over the table so he could spit fuck my ass. I handed him a glass of iced tea, “Here. If you’re going to fill my ass with more cum you need to keep hydrated.” Hawk smiled, took the glass, downed about a quarter of it then as he tried aiming his dick into my hole with his other hand the glass slipped, shattered, ice tea spreading across the floor. Was it enough? The grunts and fullness of his dick inside my ass dulled the world around me. Or maybe that was the meth. I barely registered when I heard the first THUD. Hawk paused and asked, “What was that?” He was looking to the front of the house. I slid off his dick, grabbed his wrist, and pulled him down with me to the floor as I begged, “FUCK ME ON MY BACK. YOU’RE RIGHT. I NEED TO SUBMIT AND THIS WAY I CAN FEEL YOU FILL ME DEEP WITH YOUR AIDS CUM. YOU’RE MY SUPERIOR MASTER. I WANT TO SERVE YOU - CAN YOU SHOW ME HOW TO SERVE YOU? PLEASE YOU? OH BREED ME!” Any thought Hawk might have had in his head went WHOOSH and vanished. All he saw was victory. All he felt was my hands clasping at his hips to pull his raw Aryan dick deeper. All he understood was that I was his. Fucking dumb animal! Hawk’s body slumped forward, his weight pinning me to the floor, my arm unable to avoid the splinters of glass that now pierced it. A familiar voice laughed, “Well, well, well, Agent. I must say I didn’t recognize you. Usually I’m the one on my back looking up.” I exhaled then had to laugh as a muscled arm reached down and helped me sit up. Jayce. While Chris and I were best friends growing up, Jayce and I were more like best enemies. We were total opposites in everything from our build to our families. Mine was law abiding, his was the biggest street gang in the city. Yet, Jayce and I alone, together, in bed, was always a good thing and I had dumped plenty of my loads up his sweet black ass. Between my job, and his gang, we of course kept our escapades secret, but on occasion, I was able to help him and let him know when the DEA was closing in on his family’s business and now he was able to pay that all back. We had worked out a secret signal long ago - my kitchen blinds. If they were closed, I had family around or for whatever reason could not see him. If they were totally open, the coast was clear. If they were only partially open, tilted up, then there was danger. I had relied on Jayce’s street skills to figure out the rest and lucky for me - and unlucky for Hawk and his men - he did. OK, well the Rohypnol I might have spiked the iced tea with helped too. I know, I know, who keeps crushed date rape drugs in their kitchen cabinet in a sugar bowl? I was a Boy Scout and I’m a DEA agent and I was prepared. I rubbed my face. Jayce handed me a glass of water. I gulped it down, shook my head, “Thanks,” I said. Suddenly a piercing scream exploded from the next room. Jayce helped me stand, we walked in, and one of Jayce’s guys shrugged and said, “Smurfette just bit off most of his left ear.” Jayce laughed, lit a joint, nodded to the large, black/blue Pit Bull name Smurfette that was knotting Hawk’s ass as he asked, “I don’t think you need both ears to be a bitch do you?” I could only laugh. I never knew what happened to the armed guards Hawk had - the ones I vowed to take out. When I asked Jayce he just shrugged and said, “You see them assholes around anyplace? Ain’t nothing to see man. Nothing to see.” Before Jayce left, and as I watched some of the guys from his family’s gang drag Hawk’s bloodied – but still alive - body out of my house, I went over to the shreds of my DEA windbreaker and pulled out a couple packets of meth with the Aryan eagle mark and a blue shipping receipt. “Here,” I said as I handed him the meth. “When they were preparing to move I was able to figure out why his meth is so damn good. Here are some samples of his latest cook and trust me - that shit is fucking awesome! But more importantly is this. This manifest shows you the extra ingredient he used to make the shit so pure, so kick ass. It’s yours now. Someone needs to step in and become the new, biggest cook and seller in the region.” Jayce smiled, reached down and stroked my dick, then whispered, “So, when do I get to lay on my back again for you Agent?” The next week at the office was fucking crazy. Reports of gang wars, multi-agency task force take downs of the biggest meth cook in the region, connections to Colombian cartels, or maybe the Russians, every day brought some new ripple in the pond created by the small stones I had cast. I was at my desk when there was a large commotion; a TACT Team goose-stepped into the situation room surrounding my cube. The DIC (DEA Agent in Charge) walked through the melee and set a stained, cardboard box on my desk. “This was just delivered for you,” he said while shaking his head. I looked at him, then the box, lifted one flap, then the next, and next, and pulled out a typed note that was resting near the top. The note said, “I DON’T THINK YOU NEED HANDS TO BE A BITCH EITHER.” My eyes wide, I pushed my chair back, stood up, and peered down into the box. My ‘gift’ was wrapped in yesterday’s newspaper. I took a pen and eased back the ridges of paper and my breath caught - there in the box was a set of hands clasped together as if in prayer. Within the hour the lab techs would confirm what I already knew - those hands belonged to Hawk. CASE CLOSED. (*From the author: If you like the story let me know - post a reply or give a reputation. Thanks to everyone who takes the time to read these stories and for the continued support!)

PART 3 of Speed Breeding: All I knew about what was going to happen was when C.O. - a local, thug pimp who ran young twink guys on the street - dropped me off at Garrett’s house and told me, “Aiight, you’re on loan to me tomorrow. Be ready at 3:00. I’ll pick you up. I need a gangbang bitch for a group of brothas who’ll be watching the game tomorrow night. They get off on raping a faggot. They know you can’t call the cops cause they won’t give a shit and they know there’s no risk of baby mama drama. My man says you can handle it. That’s why he’s got you - and Kip - booked for Speed Breeding on Friday. You know you’re taking one of my boy’s slots right? It’s cool yo - business is business, but you got to prove to me - and Garrett - that bussy can handle ANYTHING we fucking throw at it and from what I hear, you still green and fresh to the scene.” Garrett and his two homeless BBC buddies had spent the night keeping me filled with cocaine, Garrett’s troll dick, and raw BBC. Garrett said I needed to be fully trained and prepared for Friday night’s sex party where I would be one of two featured bottoms for the VIPs in the Speed Breeding booths. I would be naked and for $20, the tops - ANY top - could fuck me raw and cum in my ass - no questions asked. This was about 20 years ago when there was no PREP, no sex sites promoting BB fucking, and when safe sex and the AIDS-scare meant that raw fucking was a totally underground, taboo activity. Thus the appeal for these men. No awkward discussions on status. No demands at the last minute to wear a condom. No concern about some bitchy queen making a scene at the bar the next time they had a drink about them not playing safe. While I had never done anything like that before, I knew I wanted to and needed to - bad! So far, anything Garrett had thrown at me I had done and taken from his homeless buddies, to the panhandler up on the corner, to Garrett breeding me raw in the bar with his ugly old troll dick minutes after I met him. OK, so I was high on cocaine - coke - for most of it. But fuck it. Time to live a little. I had recently tested POZ and again - 20 years ago - that meant I probably had on a couple of good years left if that. I planned to go out in a blaze of glory and fucking enjoy life for once. Garrett had broken off from the triple tag play twice during the evening as his regular sweater queen butt buddies showed up apparently needing some troll dick too. Garrett laughed when he came back downstairs to my new basement apartment in his townhouse and slid right back up my ass, “You ever taken a dick right after it’s been up someone else’s ass?” he asked, “Wait until Speed Breeding, that’ll be the least freakiest part of it. Much of the ‘sex’ party is mostly posers walking around with a little grabbing, stroking, and sucking. It’s mostly watching and the tease of real sex. A few guys fuck in the corners for sure, but most folks are still too up tight to go all out so that’s where the Speed Breeding comes in. I need to ensure my guests don’t leave with blue balls.” I awoke sometime Wednesday morning much like the morning before in the midst of a tangle of homeless BBC man flesh and like the pig I was becoming reached back and guided a bruiser shaft into my ass. “Fucking cunt,” my guest said as he slid in my ass and began pumping, which awoke his buddy and soon two more loads were inside me. While they took turns using the shower and bathroom and gathering their shit up, I snorted a few lines of coke off a plate Garrett had left and tip toed up the stairs, pausing at the door to the first floor in case Garrett had company. I peeked around the kitchen and saw it was just him. Yeah the morning light only made his haggard, troll features more pronounced but as a thank you I calmly walked in, he turned, and I presented my cummy hole for inspection. “God damn,” Garrett said as he slid in me, BBC nutt sprinkling the linoleum beneath our feet, “You trying to wear my dick down to a nub? I literally cannot bust a load now no matter how much I try. Here, have some coffee. But, with the party on Friday you need to just do liquids for the next two days. No food. It’s important that you are ‘clean’ during the party if you know what I mean. While a cummy hole is one thing….” I smiled, “No worries. I understand. I’m not hungry anyways.” Garrett laughed, slid out of my hole, and as I kneeled and licked his shaft clean he sighed. Once done he handed me a fresh plate, “Good thing I got enough coke to kill an elephant. Fuck - for a newbie you can put that shit down and have a tolerance that most men would envy - and an ass too.” Well I was up, wired, and with our guests gone I followed Garrett up to the third floor of his town house, which served as his extended office. It looked like it had originally been a couple of bedrooms, but he had opened the walls, and the room was filled with boxes, shelves, papers, and God knew what. He adjusted his dick in his boxers as he sat at an old, oak desk, his coffee cup making a fresh ring of moisture on the wood, “As you can see. I told you I need the help.” Thanks to the plentiful cocaine, time flew and while I’m not sure we really did much that first day, it did make me realize there was clearly much more to Garrett than what one might initially see - both as a person and a business man. A deep voice bellowed from downstairs, “WHERE THE FUCK YOU AT MAN?” It was C.O., the pimp. Garrett looked at his watch and said, “I believe you have plans tonight? C.O. may be rough around the edges, but he will protect you, so no matter how new, scary, or whatever the situation may appear, just know he will bring you back home safe and sound.” Home. Part of me had not been sure I would ever have that again, but within a few days I had found one, and new friends. Speaking of, C.O. bellowed again and I laughed, “GET THAT FUCKING WHITE BUSSY DOWN HERE! YOU KNOW PLAYIN COY AND SHIT AIN’T HOPPIN. WHERE’S DAT WHORE? MY NICCAS WAITING ON THAT TWEAKER ASS BUT FIRST I NEED ME A TASTE SO I CAN PUNISH SOME GUTS! I GOTZ SOME MILK FOR THEM TASTEE-OS, DOES A BOOTY GOOD!” Oh yeah, I liked him! Garrett stayed in his office as I went downstairs to greet our guest. C.O. was standing on the lower landing, looking up, and seemed to enjoy the peaks of flesh my running shorts created as I came down the stairs. I stopped a few steps above him so I could look him in the eye, “YOU READY TO GET SOME MANDINGO DICK ALL UP THEM GUTS?” he asked, “READY TO LET ANY NICCA THAT WANTS IT TO CLIMB UP IN THAT BUSSY AND BEAT IT DEEP?” C.O. got his answer a minute later as I lay on my back on the sheets still moist and stanking from the homeless BBC tag team and begged him to ‘fuck my white cunt’. I stuffed a few bags of coke in my short’s pocket and we as drove to meet up with his friends C.O. blew some smoke out the driver’s side window, grabbed the bulge in his pants and said, “WHEN WE GET IN THE JOINT I WANT YOU TO KEEP YOUR MOUTH SHUT. I’LL SET YOU UP IN THE FRONT ROOM. IF A NICCA SLAPS YOU - SAY THANK YOU. IF HE SPITS ON YOU - SAY THANK YOU. IF HE PINS YOU DOWN AND RIPS THAT CUNT RAW AS HE TALKS SMACK - SAY THANK YOU - NOTHING ELSE. WHORE’S DON’T SPEAK UNLESS SPOKEN TO YOU HEAR ME? YOU UNDERSTAND? WE AIN’T PLAYIN HERE. THESE NICCAS MAY START OUT ONE OFF AND A BIT EASY BUT TRUST - AS THE GAME GOES ON, ADRENALINE PUMPS, DRUGS AND DRINK LOOSEN THE BROTHAS UP - SHIT’S GOING TO GET BUCK WILD.” Well, the night was far more that I could have ever imagined and rare that someone can honestly and truly say they were gang raped. Any resistance my ass had was broken. Any instinct to resist, push back, run, tap out, was fucked out me. It is amazing what one can endure and now when I hear tops speak about a bottom that said they couldn’t take a 8-inch dick I laugh - they have no fucking idea how to be a true bottom - a true slut - a true whore for cum and dick and even if you have to pay for the experience, it makes your future life as a bottom so fucking much better! C.O. drove me home several hours later. He double parked, eased me out of the passenger’s seat, and held me up as we walked down the driveway between the two townhouses to the back yard gate and the entrance to my basement apartment. I fumbled with the keys - my mind and body beyond my control right then. Next thing I knew I was face down in the small patch of grass in Garrett’s backyard as C.O. drove his elongated black dick into my well-used ass. “FUCKING WHORE CUNT. LOVE THAT WHITE PINK PUSSY. YOU BEST BE LEAVING YOUR DOOR UNLOCKED AT NIGHT OTHERWISE I WOULD HATE TO HAVE TO BREAK MY MAN’S SHIT UP TO GET IN AND TAKE WHAT I NEED. NOW THAT I KNOW YOU A TRUE FREAK SLUT, MAYBE WILL SEND A FEW GUYS OVER ON THE REGULAR, OFFER SOME OFF-THE-MENU SIDE SNATCH FOR THOSE CUSTOMERS WHO WANT SOMETHING A LITTLE MORE OFF THE STREET GRID.” Garrett was waiting in my apartment when I was plopped on the bed. Had he heard us in the yard? Had the neighbors? Garrett shoved a couple pills in my mouth and held up a glass to make me drink like I was an invalid and then I was out. “Drink this,” a distant voice said. Once, twice maybe? I rolled over and moaned. Jesus fuck my body was sore. I swiped a hand across my face - fuck I stank too - or it was the sheets - or all of the above. I eased to an upright position and on the small table by the bed was a pitcher of orange juice, slightly melted ice cubes in a glass, and a plate of cocaine - fat, long lines of snow white - fitting as it was an old troll/dwarf who left them for me. I tried to snort the coke first but my throat was so dry I just gagged and coughed and huffed half of it right back out. A glass of juice later I was better, and then a few lines, more juice, and I was raring to go. I got off the bed, threw on a t-shirt and shorts and slowly made my way upstairs. Garrett was not on the first floor, it was daylight out, and the clock said 2:00 p.m. There was more coke in the kitchen and I needed it. Wiping my nose I slowly took step after step up to the third floor and found Garrett behind his desk. He smiled, “And on the third day Christ arose,” he said. I squinted my eyes in question, “Ok, it’s been two days, You’re early. But still.” It was Friday? I had been out like what 30+ hours? A fucking ton of coke later and I was wired and raring to bend over for a donkey dick - literally. Garrett led me to the warehouse where the sex party was going to be. We stopped in an alley between the warehouse and a few apartment buildings that faced Rhode Island Ave. He leered at me, held out a brown bottle of coke, had me sniff up, then asked, “WANT A QUICK LOAD UP THAT ASS BEFORE WE GO IN? BEFORE YOU BECOME THE QUEEN - APOLOGIES - THE KING OF SPEED BREEDING? IS THAT ASS READY?” In response I tried to snap the finger off that he had wedged in my hole, then bent over, opened up like a summer flower, and waited for him to put his stinger in me to fill me with his nectar. Yeah, Speed Breeding was going to be fucking fun! Stay tuned for part 4. (*From the author: If you like the story let me know - post a reply or give a reputation. Thanks to everyone who takes the time to read these stories and for the continued support!)

PART 4: I gritted my teeth as Hawk’s dick punctured my rectum and a moan escaped my lips. Fucking drugs! I had to focus. He clearly liked knowing he was inflicting pain. Fine. I would let him think I was suffering as much as he wanted while I figured out a way to kill the prick. Until then, it was time to take one of the pieces off the board. I just so happened to know a dumb junkie and having him removed from the equation would ease some of the pressure on me. The challenge now was how to get Chris arrested by the local police and locked up for more than a few days without the DEA becoming involved or without it being traced back to me. Hawk grunted as he deposited his cum in my ass and when he did, the seeds of a plan took root. Once Hawk and his two Aryan goons had gotten what they needed and given me what they wanted - three raw dicks, three loads of questionable-status cum, a hole full of meth shards, and of course what I had stolen for them from the DEA evidence locker - I was ordered to get back to the DEA office to dig around for more intel for Hawk. He was vague about what intel and I asked, “You said you have other people there. Why can’t they get it?” That got me a good slap and a snarl from Hawk who said, “Like I said agent. You’re a very smart man and so far, you have done O.K. Remember what I said will happen if you don’t cooperate and that goes for asking too damn many fucking questions and not doing what I ask, when I ask. Understand?” I showered, packed something to eat, and took a minute to crush up the baggies of meth Hawk had left. Too late to come off the shit now. I had to play my part, but also be smart about it, so I tucked the baggies into the top of my sock, secure inside my boot, and figured out I could use the small pen flashlight on my key chain as a metal straw to snort it up with when it was twisted apart. I wasn’t worried about being caught. Hell even if I walked close to one of the drug sniffing dogs, every agent in the place would set off his sniffer. We were around drugs all the time. The only other thing that might catch me up would be if we did urine tests, but that process was about as regular and current as the evidence locker - so again no worries. Back at the office I tackled a pile of paperwork on my desk and tried to focus on the task at hand and not how I was going to take down those low life animals. I about pissed myself when Paulie walked by and slammed his hand on my desk then pointed at me with a ‘don’t forget to ask your mom about her macaroni salad’ smile reminder. Yeah that was the last thing I was focused on right then. Then it hit me - was Paulie the one watching me for Hawk? I looked around. It could be any of them really - or none of them. How could I be sure? I couldn’t. I just had to keep my cool, do what he asked, and figure my way out of this. The meth helped me get through the stack of files on my desk in nothing flat. I then walked over to the intake desk and picked up the folder with the latest tips and call info. We would get rotated to that desk once every couple of weeks to review and handle any anonymous tips that had come in about drug dealers, sellers, or whatever. Most of it never panned out, but sometimes it did. Today however I was looking for something I could take to Hawk. I was flipping through the stack and had found a couple of promising items when my phone buzzed. “GET HERE - NOW.” It was Hawk. This time when I approached the warehouse where Hawk and his gang cooked and packaged and distributed their meth, I was clearly expected and being watched as the steel door swung open when I was a few feet away. I was frisked by two of Hawk’s masked, armed guards, who took my gun, my badge, my phone, but let me keep the papers I brought - and my DEA windbreaker. I was surprised again at how large the complex seemed as I was escorted down hallways, up stairs, down stairs, and finally we came to a cool, wet corridor that had water dripping from large, overhead pipes. We entered a door at the end of the hall, and there was Hawk, strutting in all his Aryan self-glory. At least he had on pants, but no shirt and his muscles rippled as he finished wiping the worst of the blood off his hands. He smiled, “Ah agent. Good. You are just in time. I want you to meet my competitor. In truth he used to be my protégé. I gave him everything. Even taught him a few secrets of the cook. But then, he then disappeared. Just poof! Gone. I presumed he was dead. Imagine my surprise when we raided one of the labs from the intel you gave us and voila! He was one of many happy findings today.” Hawk circled the man like he was seeking an as yet unbruised part of skin which to abuse. I clenched my fists and fought the urge to try to kick the shit out of him right then and there. “AGENT - AGENT! NO WORRIES. THE METH HIGH WILL EVEN OUT IN A DAY OR TWO. YOU WILL EITHER LEARN TO MANAGE IT TO BECOME A FUNCTIONAL ADDICT, OR NOT. AND IF NOT...WELL...AS YOU CAN SEE I DO TAKE FAILURE AND BETRAYAL SERIOUSLY,” Hawk said as he stepped right up to me. He then finished his little tantrum with, “I want you to kill him agent. One shot. To the head. Here. You may use your own gun even. There is only one bullet in the chamber so you may be tempted to shoot one of my men - or even me instead - remember all those other lives that will be lost from your foolish action.” I didn’t have to consider my response. “No,” I said. “I won’t do it. I will stick to the deal, but I won’t kill or hurt anyone. You might have people at the DEA, but clearly they are fuck ups or you would not need me. I got you more in a few hours than clearly anyone else has in a long time. I’m more useful to you alive but I won’t do this.” Hawk showed his teeth, his jaw muscles twitched as he controlled his anger. Clearly this was a man who not used to being told no. He then patted me on the arm, “Very well agent. Let’s you and I spend some alone time then.” Escorted to a small room that contained a filthy, used mattress on the floor and which was littered with liquor, drug, and smoke remnants, Hawk took off his pants, spit on his dick, and stroked it to it’s full hardness. “SHOW ME YOUR ASS AGENT. NO LEAVE YOUR JACKET ON. YOU ARE MY DEA BITCH. I TOLD YOU I WOULD MAKE YOU A CUM DUMP - MY AIDS FAGGOT - BUT FIRST LET ME SEE IF I CAN ADD SOME OF YOUR BLOOD TO THIS TOWEL TOO. I DO LIKE TO INSPECT MY HANDIWORK.” Hawk was rubbing his coated hands up under my shirt, marking me and cleaning himself off at the same time as the latest shards of meth burned into the cuts and scrapes he had created like a Blitzkrieg that was intent on erasing all resistance to his coming, viral invasion. “YOU READY FOR MY POZ ARYAN CUM AGENT? I WILL IMPREGNATE YOU OVER, AND OVER, AND OVER AND JUST LIKE TODAY, EACH AND EVERY TIME WILL BE AS I DEMAND - RAW, BLOODY, AND TO REMIND YOU THAT I OWN YOU LOCK, STOCK, AND BARREL. YOU AND I ARE ONE NOW, TIL DEATH DO US PART AGENT - YOU AND I ARE ONE NOW AGENT AS MY AIDS BUG UNITES US IN A VOW OF POISON!” I lay there and took Hawk’s probing fingers, the digging of his nails, the brutality of his raw dick, and his explosion of eggs inside me. What else could I do then? Nothing. While my logical mind reassured me that fighting back would not gain me anything, that I was outmatched, that I had to focus on surviving and the long game, I could not help but feel ashamed, weak, impotent. When he was done, Hawk spat on my prone body, then reached down and gently tugged my DEA windbreaker back into position, “I MUST LEAVE YOU NOW AGENT. EVEN AFTER ALL I HAVE SAID AND ALL YOU HAVE DONE I STILL BELIEVE THAT SOME PART OF YOU DOES NOT QUITE TAKE ME SERIOUSLY ENOUGH. FOUR OF MY GUARDS ARE OUTSIDE. THEY HAVE BEEN TRAINED IN CERTAIN TECHNIQUES TO ENSURE COMPLIANCE. BONES MAY BEND AND NOT BREAK. SOCKETS AND TENDONS MAY MISALIGN AND STRETCH THE WRONG WAY WITHOUT TEARING. THE BODY MAY BE HIT AND PUNISHED SO THAT ANY BRUISING IS ON THE INSIDE AND DOES NOT SHOW. THESE ARE SKILLS THAT MUST BE PRACTICED AGENT. USED. HONED. SO I HAVE OFFERED THEM YOU. OH YES OF COURSE THEY WILL FUCK YOU TOO AND FILL YOUR ASS WITH UNMEDICATED AIDS AND OTHER VIRUSES. NOT ONLY ARE THEY ANXIOUS TO FLEX THEIR UNIQUE SKILLS, THEY ARE ANXIOUS TO - AS THEY SAY - FUCK A DEA BITCH!” The four masked guards entered the room and circled me. I said not a word, but I marked their eyes - eyes I would never forget - and then they began. While they had left their masks on to prevent me from seeing their faces, in addition to their eyes two of them seemed not to notice as the sleeves on their arms slid up during their ‘training’. The patches of skin showed parts of very distinctive tattoos on their forearms. They took my quietness as acceptance of what they were doing to me - it was not - I was using all of my energy to commit those tatts to memory, and filed them with the images of their eyes now burned inside my skull. I would take these animals down too. Meth burned my gut lining as more of it was shoved up my ass and fingered into my nose and gums by the masked assailants. I had lost track of time, of the numbers of connections of their flesh to mine - of their gloved hands to my limbs - of their booted feet to my body. My DEA windbreaker lay in tatters beneath me as it had been sliced off my body by one of the guards. He was now sitting in a chair, his mask rolled up enough so he could smoke. Another guard was kneeling over my head so I could suck on his dick while his cohort plunged in and out of my ripped ass ring. The door slammed open, Hawk strode in, “WHAT DID YOU FUCKING DO AGENT? GOD DAMN IT WHAT DID YOU DO?” he screamed. Hawk - in his rants and raves - disclosed that Chris, my former best friend/lover who had betrayed me, had been picked up by men driving a dark sedan about 30 minutes ago. One of Hawk’s guys who was watching him saw it all go down. Hawk’s guy also saw that Chris was carrying not only a full supply of meth he was supposed to drop off, but a large backpack of cash from one of the pickups. Hawk had immediately put the word out to the police on his payroll at the local precinct, but Chris never showed there. He never showed up anywhere. Where did the men go? Where was Chris? What had I done? Hawk was livid and spittle flew from his mouth as one question after another pummeled me. With the four guards’ DNA leaking from my bloody ass, the taste of their skin still on my tongue, I sat up, looked at Hawk and innocently asked, “HOW COULD I HAVE DONE ANYTHING AT ALL? I’VE BEEN HERE. FOR HOURS AND HOURS AS YOU KNOW. I HAVE NOT LEFT THIS ROOM SINCE YOU - WHAT DID YOU CALL IT? OH YES - MADE ME YOUR DEA BITCH. AND THEN OF COURSE I WAS JOINED BY YOUR MEN HERE FOR THEIR LITTLE GAME. HOW COULD I HAVE KNOWN WHERE CHRIS WAS? HOW COULD I HAVE TOLD THE COPS? DO YOU HAVE ANY WATER? I’M KIND OF PARCHED.” Hawk clearly didn’t believe me, but he also knew that what I said was true. He said to his men, “GET HIS PHONE. CUT HIS FUCKING FINGER OFF TO UNLOCK IT IF YOU HAVE TO. I WANT IT SEARCHED - ALL TEXTS, CALLS, EMAILS, EVERYTHING. THEN CHECK THE SIM CARD.” As Hawk turned in frustration to leave the room I hollered, “So hard to find good help these days isn’t it?” Hawk paused, turned, and glared. I could see on his face and his eyes he wanted to hit me, kick me, fuck me. I knew I was pushing it, but I couldn’t resist. He had to feel unsure - they all did. Then they would make the mistakes I needed to take them all down. Hawk gave a wild sweep of his arm, “GET THEM ALL IN HERE. EVERY FUCKING ONE. I DON’T CARE IF THEY SWING THAT WAY OR NOT. I EXPECT EVERY GOD DAMN DICK WITHIN A MILE OF THIS PLACE TO FUCK MR. DEA AGENT HERE. DRUG HIM UP AS MUCH AS YOU WANT. DO WHATEVER THE FUCK YOU WANT. SOMEONE NEEDS TO PAY FOR THIS FUCK UP SO UNLESS ONE OF YOU IS GOING TO STEP FORWARD, THEN IT’S HIM.” In the face of the flood to come I just smiled at my Aryan Master - Game on asshole! Back in the evidence locker, in a corner far to the back, on a shelf covered in grime and dust, nestled at the bottom of a box that had seemingly not been touched in years was an old cell phone with a number that had never been traced, or logged into evidence. It vibrated - white letters appeared on the blue-lit screen: “THANK YOU FOR THE TIP AND ACCESS CODE. IT PAID OFF. WE CAUGHT THE GUY AND GAVE A BLOW TO THOSE POISON PUSHERS. PERP ALREADY OUT OF TOWN IN SAFE LOCATION AND NO ONE OUTSIDE ME AND REGIONAL FBI OFFICE KNOW. NO ONE LOCAL IN LOOP. AND AS YOU SAID HE’S TOO MESSED UP TO KNOW ANYTHING OR PROVIDE GOOD INFO, BUT THE LOSS OF CASH AND PRODUCT COUNTS. ALREADY WORKING ON MIRRORING ALL OTHER TECH PINGS. ANYMORE INFO FALLS INTO YOUR LAP, YOU KNOW HOW TO REACH ME. - ASSISTANT D.A. MCLEOD” (*From the author: If you like the story let me know - post a reply or give a reputation. Thanks to everyone who takes the time to read these stories and for the continued support!)