Home by Jay Dee

May 6, 2017

Once in His office, I strip and approach Him humbly. He is sitting at his desk, fully clothed again in a suit. He barely looks toward my direction, before He rolls back his desk chair, opening up my entrance Home. I crawl underneath. Since the last time I was here, He had installed a stainless steel D-ring on the back panel under the desk, the curve of the ring was heavy-duty thick and glistened even in the darkness. Attached to the ring is a leash about four-feet-long and punctuated by a thin leather collar.

My body freezes when I see the leash hanging under the desk as I contemplate what is going on. It’s obvious, but I need the pause because my body is trying to tell me to run. I can leave. I can be dressed in a few seconds and still make it to school on time. But my dick is rock hard. My heart is pounding against my breast plate.

“Welcome Home,” he says, cheerfully.

I put the collar around my neck. It’s thick, dark leather and cold against my skin. He reaches over and fastens the buckle. The collar is secure but he keeps fiddling with the mechanism until I hear an unmistakable click. I reach up to finger the small padlock that is threaded through a latch in the collar. I am locked here.

 

http://www.nifty.org/nifty/gay/authoritarian/home/

 

Date: Mon, 19 Nov 2012 01:06:19 -0700
From: Jay Dee <jd.alphaslave (at) gmail (dot) com>
Subject: Home part 1

Disclaimer: The following story and subsequent sections is fiction. All
similarities to actual living people is purely coincidental. Also,
imaginary people do not need to use condoms, but in real life we do. So
please be careful.

Please submit all suggestions, comments and tips to
jd.alphaslave(at)gmail(dot)com.

Home

I don’t know what it is about this online ad that captivates me so
completely. This one isn’t like all the other personal ads searching for
sex by faggots for faggots. Those ads asking for well hung, height weight
proportionate, white guys. I don’t want to look at you. I don’t want to
talk about marriage rights. I don’t want to listen to diva pop songs. I
want one thing and this was the first ad I’ve seen that promised. This ad
is colorless, almost soulless. It’s perfect.

“Seeking sex in my hotel room

46 year-old, married man looking to drain my balls in a tight ass. I won’t
send pictures, so don’t ask. I’m fat and ugly, it doesn’t matter. Picture
who you want. You’ll be facing the other way anyway.”

I regularly read through the M4M personal ads. They’re a good source of
free porn that I can access on my phone at any time without anyone
knowing. I can find pictures of cocks, assholes, some dudes even post
penetration shots. There’s enough in the personal ads to cause a precum
leak in my boxers. I even gathered enough courage a couple of times to
answer a couple of ads but never followed up after my initial reply. Yeah,
I’m that guy, that flake. Until today, I’ve been too scared to move beyond
an introduction, but I have a good reason. I’m a virgin. A closeted virgin
in a small town. I’m also only 17.

Do you remember what it’s like being 17? Is it normal to be this horny? I
beat my meat at least three times a day, sometimes as many as seven. And I
still have wet dreams. By the end of the school day, my crotch reeks from
all the precum that has been pooling and drying all over my
cockhead. Sometimes, I even have to pull back my thick, dark foreskin to
break apart the crust before taking a piss. Still, if walking around with a
permanent boner were my only problem, my life would be perfect.

I am a center on the high school basketball team. I stand at 6’2″. My hair
is pitch black and, thanks to my mom the dermatologist, my caramel-hued
skin is as clear and smooth as the day I was born. I have to admit, I am
all American boyishly handsome. I have a cowlick and everything. Add to
that, my uncut cock hangs as low as a venti cup from Starbucks. Trust me,
if pussy did it for me, I would be swimming in it. But I learned early on
that I’m not interested, not in the least.

In the sixth grade, I noticed a friend was growing a nice patch of armpit
hair while I was still smooth. He’d sit in front of me in class and on days
he wore a tank top, I would get lost staring into the dark thicket. I
wanted so much to touch his pits, sniff them, lick them. I was 14 years
old, my voice hadn’t even changed yet, and I wanted to fuck my best
friend’s armpits. My infatuation with men only increased from there. If you
are a guy and I have met you in the past three years, I guarantee that my
mind drifted at some point to where in your body I could stick my dick. If
you were wearing flip-flops I fought every urge in my body to suck your
hairy, sweaty toes. I’ve never met a pair of hairy legs that I didn’t want
to lick from ankle to ass. My point is that I am gay, I’m a virgin, I’m
always horny and I want to fuck you.

But in a town like this, where the roar of a pickup truck is the national
anthem, that kind of behavior could get me hurt, if not killed. I don’t
even want to think about how my parents would react. So that has led me
here, a walking fucking hard-on haunting the online personal ads too scared
to meet up with a guy, way too horny to stop looking.

Now, there is this ad. There’s no picture attached, but the fact that he
was in a hotel room caught my attention. It’s unlikely that he’d know me,
or anyone else for that matter. I admit, I like that he is also an ugly,
fat guy. I like the idea of using my good looks to intimidate him into
letting me into his ass.

My hands tremble as I type my reply:

“Hey man, saw your ad. You still looking? 6’2″, 165. 19 year old.” I’m
lying about my age. I really don’t want to scare him away because I’m too
young. My heart is beating in my chest with large, quick thuds. I can’t
believe I am actually going to do this. I feel a faint stress ache in my
lower back. I am serious this time. I hit `Send.’

I immediately cover my face with my hands and inhale deeply. I can smell
rubber from the basketball I carried home with me from school. I exhale
even slower. My brain starts to offer valid points, I am starting to come
to my senses. What in the hell am I doing? I’m not really going to some
ugly dude’s hotel room. I could get hurt, murdered. I could get an
STD. This is stupid. Then my Inbox tone. One new message.

“Holy shit,” I whisper to my computer.

I inhale deep but quickly this time, using my hands like a gas mask. His
reply is four words. And yet I am suddenly terrified. I can feel it, my
life is about to change forever and there is nothing I can do about it.

“Can u cum now?”

I’m fully erect. My cock is pushing against my jeans so hard it physically
hurts me. I unbutton, unzip to relieve the pressure. I slide my fingers
into the slit of my boxers and rub my cock. This could happen. I actually
have the chance to make this happen. Sex, fucking. My head is spinning as
if I were panicked. A few seconds pass before I realize I had pulled out my
cock and am rubbing my foreskin over the head, my hips lightly thrusting.

“Fuck,” I whisper to myself and pull my hand away. It’s a very conscious
motion. I can’t come now. If I did, then this is over. I’d shoot a load and
descend into a pit of guilt and erase the message. This happens all the
time. Not this time. This is going to happen. I’m going to fuck. Which
means no coming, not until I taste cock.

I know it’s a common joke, but I really think my boner has taken over all
motor functions at this point. My brain is still offering rational
arguments against moving forward, but my hands are already typing a
response.

“Yes. Where are you?”

He replies instantly with an address. I said I’d be there in 30 minutes and
jump out of my chair. My cock, bouncing in front of me, is on fire from all
the activity. I pace in my room several times running both hands through my
hair roughly, as if I were holding my head on my shoulders. “Fuck. Fuck,
fuck, fuck, fuck!” I can’t stop cussing. This is really going to happen. My
cock has set me on a course that my head can’t rationalize. I am going to
fuck. “… Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck …” My heart is beating like a
riot. Both fists clutch handfuls of hair.

Now notice, my pits stink. “Ah, shit,” I say sniffing my right hand, which
was massaging my cock only a few seconds ago. The cockstink is
undeniable. My cock tip is shiny with precum, which isn’t going to help
with the smell. There is no way I’ll charm this guy into sucking me off
like this. I jump in the shower. I don’t know what to expect. I wash my
cock, pulling back the foreskin fully to thoroughly wash the head. It’s
sensitive under the hot water and I am so horny I have to stop myself from
jacking off again. I wash my asshole, sticking my ring finger inside. It
hurts. This signaled my biggest alarm. How could I let some guy shove a
cock in my ass if my finger hurt too much? I’m not sure I can do
this. Maybe, I thought, once he sees my smooth, boyish face, my young thin
frame with the foundation laid for some serious muscle mass and my
eight-inch cock, he will be overtaken. I would be in charge soon after
removing my clothes, I figured. I throw on a pair of running shorts and a
t-shirt. As far as everyone is concerned, I am going for a run.

It wasn’t a lie. I run most of the way to the hotel, though at a leisurely
pace. I don’t want to sweat too much. I get to the parking lot the
hotel. My brain is screaming against what I am about to do. There are
hundreds of reasons not to knock on this guy’s door. Disease, violence,
shame. My first time should be in candle light, with some beautiful,
clear-skinned stud from the team. It should start with a kiss and end in an
embrace. My first time should not be in the Paradise Valley Inn and Suites,
with a fat, ugly man.

But logic, reason, love, none of that matters against cock. Mine, his. I
need to fuck. There is a machine protruding from between my legs and it
can’t be stopped. It has taken over my life at this point, as if the rest
of my body is on autopilot. I am a zombie, following my cock. I need to
suck, get sucked, fuck, get fucked. My heart is punching my chest, I am
breathing rage.

I walk up the concrete staircase.

Nothing matters anymore. I have no homework here. There is no rival team. I
have no family. I only have cock. I only need cock.

The hotel is shit. I walked past a room with an open curtain, children are
watching TV. It’s here that I notice that I have been holding my cock
through my shorts. My hand is pushing down the black fabric, revealing the
perfect hard-on shape. I don’t know how long I’ve been doing this, who has
seen me? But even that doesn’t matter. I stick out my chest as much as I
can and march down the walkway, breathing deep. His room number, 223.

The world is gone. Everything in my life is behind this door.

I knock.

I will enter this room a pathetic virgin. But I will leave it a fucking
champion. I am here to spill seed. To breed.

The unlatched door drifts open on my knock.

My cock is rock fucking hard. There is no hiding it, it’s sticking out in
front of me pointing to heaven through my running shorts. I follow it
inside. I followed it all the way here.

I walk inside to see a couch facing away from the door. With the curtain
closed, the room is dim, mostly lit by the glow from the TV. I can see the
back of his head. Completely bald on top, with hair grown full on the sides
and back. Fucking ridiculous.

My brain is screaming. This isn’t right. This isn’t my life. I can still
turn around, leave. But my cock is master here. All cock is master.

“Hey.” He speaks without turning his head, his voice deep, solid, smooth.

I shut the door, lock it. This guy is looking for an ass to fuck. I’m
looking to rape.

To be continued.

Date: Mon, 26 Nov 2012 23:25:13 -0700
From: Jay Dee <juliet.delta88 (at) gmail (dot) com>
Subject: Home part 2

Disclaimer: I own all the rights to this original work and give license to
the Nifty archive. Copyright 2012. All characters are fictional, any
coincidences to living people are entirely coincidental.

If you haven’t already, please consider donating to Nifty, this is a
wonderful project. Comments, critiques: juliet.delta88 (at) gmail (dot)
com. -thanks
For the first time since I left my house, I pause. I’m standing inside the
dim hotel room. The light from the TV is flittering a bright silver
radiance casting everything in silhouette. During my jog over, my cock and
my brain have been in a tense battle.

He turns his head to look me over. I’m not sure in the darkness, but I
think I detect a faint raise of his eyebrow. I convince myself it’s a
reaction to my boyish good looks. I’m standing as straight as I can,
puffing out my thin chest as much as possible to properly display my six
feet, two inch frame. My armpits are moist from the jog, but I don’t think
it’s enough to cause wet spots on my grey t-shirt. My only betrayal, as I
try to look as stoic and forceful as I can, is my aching hard-on poking out
through the fabric of my black running shorts. My body is tall, smooth and
thin. My hard-on, especially through my shorts, is obvious, even here in
the dark.

The man, who had promised in his online ad that he was fat and ugly wasn’t
lying. Even before he turned his head to look at me I could see he was
completely bald on top, but grew out the hair on the sides and back of his
head. It was comical. When he did turn around, I could see that he also had
a thick mustache.

He doesn’t know that I’m 17, and I will not tell him, but he looks like
what you’d picture in a child molester.

“Why don’t you come on over here?” he asks in a deep, smooth voice. He
sounds friendly, encouraging.

Now that my eyes have adjusted slightly in this light, I can see that he is
missing a front tooth. My brain once again starts screaming at my body to
run. This is not how I’m supposed to lose my virginity. Not to a fat, bald
toothless man in a dirty, dark hotel room. For the first time since I left
my room, my cock is starting to agree. My erection is waning. My heart is
pumping hard, but now more out of fear than excitement. I should turn
around and leave, right now.

He can see my apprehension. “Come on!” His voice is so encouraging,
comforting. I walk over so I’m on the other side of the couch, facing him
directly. He is wearing a black polo shirt. He is holding a Styrofoam
container in his right hand and eating off of it with his left, but I’m too
busy studying his face to bother to see what he is eating. He puts down the
container on the couch, smiles and extends his right hand.

“I’m Gary,” he says. I notice two things. He isn’t actually missing a
tooth, but he does have a big gap between his front teeth. And his hand, as
I grab it, is a little smaller than mine but a lot thicker. It’s also
covered in calluses, so he must work outside or something.

“Jim,” I say, lying. I continue to size him up, it’s hard when he’s sitting
down, but I think I’m taller than him, by at least four inches. His body is
thick, barrel-chested.

He grabs his container again. “You hungry? Want something to eat?”

“No,” I say. “I’m good.”

“Are you sure?” he asks, and I’m annoyed at first before I realize for the
first time that his cock is hanging out of his pants. It is massive, lying
heavily across his hip and digging into his open zipper, like a tree
root. My heart surges as if it were taking in a quick, deep sigh, a
gasp. How did I not notice it before? It’s possible I missed it in the
dark, but it’s resting on his lap for the world to see. No. For me to
see. Just me. I’ve been in the room for a minute with a fat slab of sausage
laying out just for me and I didn’t notice it until now.

This is not my first time seeing a cock. I see them regularly in the gym
before and after basketball practice, and after gym class. But there I’m
limited to quick glances. The high school locker room is a no fag zone and
any guy caught casting eyes anywhere below shoulder level is met with
suspicion. An extended look downward will get you ostracized and branded a
faggot, a name that will carry outside the locker room and into life.

So, I’ve managed to see enough cock to know that my own is above average in
both size and shape. Fully erect I stand at just over eight
inches. Flaccid, it hangs low, with my foreskin closing over the tip like a
set of dark, puckered lips.

But here, in the dark, I stand before a dick that looks bigger than
mine. It’s circumcised and practically alive. It’s monstrous, like a full
grown appendage, sleeping on his lap. For the first time in my life, I get
to look at this cock. I’m not stealing a glance from the corner of my eye
or diverting my vision as I tie my shoes. I stare at it,
hungry. Starving. It’s like I’m hypnotized, but I’m fully awake. It’s like
I’m seeing food for the first time, feeling warmth, entering sunshine for
the first time. It’s a dick, I’ve been dreaming of this moment for years
and now that it’s right in front of me, I could cry.

“Come here,” the man says, waking me up from my transfixed state. I notice
that I’m smiling, an unabashed smile like a toddler seeing the vast ocean
for the first time.

I look him in the eye and notice a smile of his own, but of a different
sort. His right cheek is lifted just enough so his lips curve, showing his
teeth. It’s just as much a snarl as it is a smile.

I get on my knees. If I were paying attention, I would have noticed here
that my erection has waned significantly. I was guided here by my cock, my
hard-on, but now that I was in the presence of this monstrosity, I no
longer mattered. This monster cock, sticking out the zipper of dark denim,
resting under his big round belly, was all that mattered now. I reach up
with my right hand to grab it, it’s soft and warm. In fact, it feels like
it radiates heat. This is the first time I get to hold a cock. It feels
natural in my hands. The man extends his left hand once again and rubs his
palm down the back of my head. I feel the bottom of his palm brush against
my ear, dragging in a soft whisper. It’s a skin-on-skin contact that I’ve
never felt anywhere before. Not even when a guy’s bare back brushes against
my bare chest in a pickup game at the park. This is softer, more
intentional: Mine. “Go ahead,” he says, seeing the desire in my eyes.

I’ve never sucked a dick before. But I’ve dreamed about it every day for
years. I’ve seen plenty of porn videos to know that it’s pretty basic. With
my heart pumping like a street rumble, I lean into the man’s crotch. It’s
clean. He must have washed before I got here. I realize, just as the cock
head is nearing my lips that my mouth is dry. I quickly push my tongue
against the roof of my mouth to produce moisture before opening wide. I
stick out my tongue to welcome the cockhead. It’s warm, smooth. I wrap my
lips around it. The man grabs the hair in the back of my head softly. I
push my face forward enough so I can fit as much of his cock into my mouth
as I can.

It’s official. I am sucking a cock. I am a cocksucker. I have dreamed of
this. Although, in my dreams it was different. It was salty, maybe a little
more smelly. But his clean cock gives no taste or scent. It’s still
flaccid, so I open my mouth wide and take as much of it as I can. I get my
nose right to the zipper of his pants, which are still fastened.

“Let’s see if you can get me hard,” he says.

It’s an alarming comment. I didn’t even consider it an option that he
wouldn’t get hard. Now he has introduced a scenario in which I could
fail. I could lose, and he would take the cock away.

I wrap my hand around the base of his flaccid dick to lift it up. It’s like
a lazy serpent, the head still falling to the side. I focus on the tip,
closing my lips around it and start bobbing. I run the tip of my tongue
under the head.

I can feel it get warmer. In my closed hand, the base of the dick gets
firmer. And in my mouth, the cockhead grows fuller. I start to suck harder,
sealing any airways between my lips and his flesh. I bob my head faster. As
my lips glide over the ridges of the cockhead, air escapes making sucking
sounds that become rhythmic. My own dick starts to stiffen so I grab it
through my shorts.

I have no idea how much time has passed. It might have been 30 seconds. It
might have been two minutes. I am enraptured. There is a dick growing
inside my mouth and there is nothing else I want. My hand is still wrapped
around the base, I try to reach my thumb and forefinger with my lips, but
as it gets longer and thicker, the cock bumps the back of my throat before
I can make contact.

“Yeah, look at that,” he says. “Even with your hand wrapped around it,
there’s still plenty of cock for you to suck.”

If this were a porn scene, I’d laugh at the ego on the asshole that is all
too pleased with his big dick. In real life, my heart skips a beat because
it’s true. It’s massive and it’s in my mouth. I love this cock. It doesn’t
fit, but I know it belongs inside me.

He pushes my face from his dick. For a second I think he is done and a
sliver of doubt creeps into my being: He’s not happy with my mouth. He’s
taking the cock away from me. Instead, he unfastens his belt buckle, the
metal clinks as it swings to the side. Then he unbuttons his khakis and
spreads his pants wide, revealing a trimmed patch of pubic hair and a
smooth pair of balls that are almost too small for the monstrous dick they
hang from. He pushes his pants down to his ankles.

As soon as his bare ass is planted on his couch, I hone in, wrapping an arm
over his thigh and pick up the cock that is pushing into his round belly
with my lips and start sucking.

“Lick my balls.” His voice is still firm. It sounds neither light nor
strained as I expect at this point, mostly because in a porn scene, he
would be nearing some point of excitement. In fact, he sounds bored. For
the first time, I realize that he is still watching TV.

I spread his thighs apart and push my face into the dark, sweaty space. I
run my tongue over his sack. The skin is softer, there is a little stubble
but still no taste. His cock, saturated from my own saliva is brushing
against my cheek. It’s wet. I dive in, pushing my face deep. I can feel his
belly on my forehead and his thighs on my cheek. My spit on his dick is now
pooling around his balls and it’s cold.

I wrap my lips around his nut sack. I suck them into my mouth and use my
tongue to massage them as best I can. I slide my lips off his balls and
then run my tongue flat against both of them, licking them until I am at
the base of his shaft. He is finally paying attention to me. He lifts up
his knees. It is here that I get my first sense of a scent. A sharp musk
that I figure is a mix of body odor, sweat and even a faint sign of shit
from his nearby asshole.

It smells like a fucking man.

I push down the webbing of his khakis and underwear to gain access and I
dive in to lick his taint. He releases his first sigh of pleasure. I lick
him again. Then again. Then I stick my face as deep as I can, pushing into
his soft body and lightly bite the skin between his balls and asshole,
dragging my teeth across it until release.

“Get back on my cock,” he says, his voice only slightly labored.

I ignore his face, but obey. I start sucking his cock furiously. Bobbing my
head down in quick rhythm. Each time, I create the sucking sound as air
escapes between my lips and the ridges of the dickhead. Each time his cock
slams against the back of my throat. My hand is wrapped again around the
base of his dick to keep me from trying to take in too much. At this point,
I can barely control myself.

“Hey, hey,” the man says. I stop sucking, my mouth is still wide open and I
can feel his cockhead pushing against the side of my mouth, stretching the
skin of my cheek into a bulb. “Watch your teeth.”

“I’m sorry,” I say immediately, truly hoping he accepts my regret. However,
his cock is still in my mouth so the actual words may have been difficult
to understand. He looks me in my eyes, my mouth full of his penis and
suddenly seems to understand that this is my first dick.

He smiles again. It still looks like a snarl.

“You have to use your lips,” he says, opening his mouth and wrapping his
own lips over his teeth. “Cover your teeth, so they don’t scratch my dick.”

I nod. That makes sense. I was stupid not to realize that before. I do as
he says. I have to stretch my mouth a little more in order to engulf his
cock. I can feel some strain at the corners of my mouth. But I get back to
work. He’s right, it feels more comfortable this way. It’s natural.

“That’s right, get it nice and wet,” he says, stroking my head softly. His
voice is calm. “So I can slide in and out of your mouth easy.” He is
guiding my head, pushing it down lightly, then releasing allowing me to
come back up.

“Like a nice, wet pussy.”

I pause. My heart starts beating in a quick, solid rhythm. The word hangs
in front of me, like a challenge. Pussy. The word is a haunting more than
an actual thought. I’ve come to terms with being gay—I’m obsessed with
dick, and not just mine—but I have no interest in being a faggot. He
wants me to be his pussy. He wants me to be a girl? I get off his dick and
look him in the eye. He is still smiling. Snarling. I’m not sure he
realizes the chord he has struck in me. My breath comes hard. He didn’t
call me a faggot, a slut, or a whore, which are degrading terms but still
associated with people. Not even a vagina, which has reproductive use. He
wants a pussy, a host for his dick. He didn’t want to see my mouth, which
can talk, he wanted a pussy. I can’t shake the feeling that this fat, bald
fucker just drew a line in the sand and smiled as I stood in front of
it. This is the moment in which I help define what comes next. I could tell
him to fuck off with that degradation bullshit. I could make my point
concrete and leave. I stare him in the eyes, heart racing, breath pumping.

“Yes, sir.”

My dick is so hard, it feels like it is stretching my foreskin tighter than
it ever has before. I have literally pumped my cock with my hands several
times a day since I was about 12, and I’ve never felt it this hard
before. And not once during any one of those jack-off sessions have I ever
fantasized about some old, fat, ugly, bald guy with a huge gap in his teeth
as the target of my hard-on. And yet here I was, completely surrendering to
his massive cock. I have no idea how big it is. I know, after mentally
comparing to the guys on the team, mine is above average. But, fully erect,
I think I only stand about two-thirds of this huge organ.

We both know we’ve crossed a line when this mother fucker called me his
pussy. In unspoken words, we knew what he meant. He wanted a tool, not a
person, to service his massive dick. He suggested it with a sneer of a
smile. It was a look that initially made me want to punch his gap-toothed
face. When he called my mouth his pussy, I should have erupted in rage and
attempted bodily harm on this worthless fat sack. Not only did he dismiss
me we as a human, but he did so using the most emasculating term
possible. And yet, with an obedient answer and my lips sealing themselves
around his cock, I agreed.

The truth is, I hated this guy already. We had only met about 30 minutes
ago. And for 29 of those minutes, I’ve had my face buried in his crotch. I
was eager for his meat. I acquiesced not to him, but to this magnificent
penis. If I lived in a town with a gay community, or if I was old enough to
openly cruise for sex, it would be different. But I have wanted cock so bad
for so long and this was the one. I didn’t want to lose it, ever. Even if
it meant this douchebag could call my mouth his pussy.

I had tasted the most personal parts of his body. I pushed my face as deep
as I could into the darkness of his thighs. And my only regret was that he
was too clean: This massive cock was not rancid with dried cum, piss and
sour body odor. When I obeyed, I knew I wanted it all and worse.

My pre-cum had saturated the front of my underwear and running shorts, I
ran my fingers over the outline of my cockhead and the syrupy fluid webbed
from my shorts to my forefinger and thumb. It’s as if I had already cum, I
couldn’t believe all the ejaculate that had pooled in my shorts. I’ve never
been his horny before, but coming was the farthest thing from my mind.

My greedy obedience to his cock only made the man confident.

“Yeah,” he said. “Nice mouth-pussy.”

The word stung. But I continued bobbing my head on his cock. Sucking,
slurping and trying to breathe through my nose without losing rhythm.

“Get it nice and hard, so I can slide it into your real pussy,” he said,
sounding like a bad porn actor.

My heart thud in my chest. He wants to fuck me. I had become so enraptured
sucking his dick that the thought escaped my mind entirely. I could not fit
this cock in my mouth, and he wanted to stick it inside my asshole. I
remembered taking a shower earlier. I stuck my ring finger in my hole and
the pain was intense. Now I am confronted with this raging appendage that
seemed thicker than the circumference of all four fingers and my thumb
combined. It’s impossible. But I wanted it. I needed it.

It must have been a 45 minutes in which I spent slobbering on his dick. He
finally pushes my face away and stands up. Standing before me, the cock is
pointing directly at my forehead. I rose up to meet my master and wrapped
my lips around it again, grabbing his flabby ass cheeks as I sucked some
more. He slipped off his shoes, his pants and his white cotton briefs.

“You love that cock, don’t you?” he says, almost sounding impressed. I
tryto mumble in affirmation as best I could with my mouth full of dick.

He grabs the sides of my head then thrusts into my face.

“I love an eager mouth-pussy,” he says.

I wrapped my right hand into a fist around the base of his dick to keep it
from choking me. He fucked my face with such force, I worried that I could
break a tooth every time my hand pushed into my lips and teeth. He fucked
me faster, his belly shaking, pressing gently into my forehead with each
thrust.

He moans, an obvious, guttural sound of pleasure.

“Fucking sweet mouth-pussy.” His voice stretches each word into strained
whispers.

He pulls out of my mouth completely. I have completely lost both sense and
interest in time. He turns and walks toward the bed. He takes off his shirt
and throws it against the sliding, mirrored doors that run parallel to the
queen-sized bed. Naked, he has a strip of hair running down the center of
his back and a light sheet of hair covering his round, surprisingly smooth
ass cheeks. His belly sticks out like a misshapen orb, dropping into just a
slight overhang above his hard cock.

“Get over here.” His voice, still solid and friendly ends each word
abruptly. These are definitely commands.

He lies back on the bed.

“Take off your shorts,” he says. I pull down my shorts and boxer briefs
together, with quick force and walk directly to my target. I rest my weight
on my arms and crawl toward his dick. He grabs a fistful of hair behind my
head and aligns my mouth with his penis and pushes me down. I fight the
urge to push away his hand because of the force he uses to pull my hair. It
doesn’t matter. I just suck cock.

With his free hand, he reaches over to the bureau next to the bed and grabs
a bottle with a shape I recognize. He offers it to me.

“Here,” he says, as I grab the bottle of lube. “Get your pussy ready.”

Even if I wanted to say “no,” it is too late. I’ve come this far. My
asshole is destined for a deep fucking, here.

I steal myself from his dick and squeeze out a handful of the clear liquid
and get to work on my asshole. Still holding a handful of hair, the man
pushed my face back on his dick.

“Yeah,” he said, again sounding like a porn cliché. “You don’t stop
sucking that cock until I tell you to stop sucking.”

I once again hum an affirmative with my lips wrapped around his penis,
“Mmhmm.” He grabs my hair tight, sending a flash of pain in the back of my
head. He lifts my face from his crotch.

“Do you hear me?” he says.

It’s clear what he wants. Once again, I fight the urge to punch his ugly
face.

“Yes sir.”

He pushes and pulls my head along the length of his dick as I slather my
lubed fingers on my asshole. I start by rubbing my fingers over my hole,
wiping as much of the lube as I can in the cup of my butt cheeks.

I picture in my mind, what it looks like. I’ve done this before. In the
rare instances, when I am home alone, I spend as much time as I can,
playing naked in my room. Before I got my own, I used my dad’s shaving
mirror from his bathroom. I’d lay it flat on the floor and squat over it,
naked so I can get a good look at my asshole. I started this when I was
about 15. It seems I’ve always been obsessed with my asshole. I remember
the day I first noticed small sprouts of dark hairs growing around the
puckered button, a sight that immediately filled me with pride and sexual
energy.

Then, one day, for no reason other than pure curiosity, I started fingering
myself, watching in the mirror as I punctured my hole with a finger. I had
seen enough porn scenes online to know that ass fucking was possible. It
seemed almost unfathomable in real life. But I’ve seen even the most girly,
weak-looking dudes take monster cocks. If they could do it, I should not
have a problem. I remember that day, as I squatted naked, perfectly framing
my dark asshole over the mirror that my dad would be using the next morning
to guide a razor over the thick stubble on his face. I covered my
forefinger with baby oil I took from my mom’s shelf and pressed it against
my hole. Nothing happened. I pushed harder. Still, my hole was too tight
for anything to go inside.

It was impossible. How did anybody get anything inside an ass? I might as
well have been trying to insert my finger into my bellybutton. I tried
again, and again. I sqatted over my dad’s mirror so long that my legs
started to cramp. I would have given up, if I hadn’t been watching a porn
scene of a twink, even skinnier than me, take a cock as thick as my
wrist. I refused to believe that a faggot like that could take something
that I could not. I even thought about some of my more healthy shits. I
knew my asshole could stretch to accommodate some big chunks that surely
felt thicker than my finger.

I pressed harder. It wasn’t working. In desperation, I pushed into my hole
and tried squeezing my ass muscles. I tighten my asshole from within. That
didn’t work. Then I pushed out, as if I were taking a shit. Suddenly, the
tip of my finger disappeared. It was inside. I remember my heart
immediately started racing, my dick stiffened and oozed precum. My finger
was inside of me, just past the fingernail. It felt unreal. I was filled
with fear and excitement more than anything else.

I pushed further inside. The top knuckle disappeared. Then the second
knuckle. I was breathing heavily. I had to reposition my wrist so I could
push my forefinger in to the base. I pulled my finger out and it felt like
I was shitting. I look down at the mirror to check. Nothing. Just my
finger, with the fingernail peaking out of the dark wrinkles of my
hole. It’s a relief, so I push my finger back inside to the hilt. Then
again.

I wanted the full experience. I fingerbanged my asshole as hard and deep as
I could. Over the years, I would finger myself occasionally, sometimes
testing myself with up to three fingers at a time. I know enough that I
enjoy getting fucked. Although, I usually prefer playing with my dick
instead. I was always positive I was a top. And yet, here I am, ready to
take a pounding. My fingers are not enough. I am ready for this fat man and
everything he can throw into me.

 

Date: Mon, 3 Dec 2012 01:13:54 -0700
From: Jay Dee <juliet.delta88 (at) gmail (dot) com>
Subject: Home part 3

Disclaimer: I own all the rights to this original work and give license to
the Nifty archive. Copyright 2012. All characters are fictional, any
coincidences to living people are entirely coincidental.

If you haven’t already, please consider donating to Nifty, this is a
wonderful project. Comments, critiques: juliet.delta88 (at) gmail (dot)
com. -thanks

The man rose up from the bed and stood beside me.

“Lift your pussy up,” he said in a stern voice.

I stopped fingering my hole and complied.

“Higher. Stick your pussy hole as high into the air as you can.”

I arched my lower back as deep as I could. My butt cheeks spread, pulled
apart by my tight skin.

“That’s it,” he said. “Spread it open for me.”

He rubbed his fingers through the length of my ass crack. I gave in to the
energy building in my body and released a small moan as he brushed against
my aching asshole.

“I didn’t tell you to stop sucking that dick.”

I immediately tilted my body and went back to work on his monster cock,
pushing my face deep into his round body. He traced his finger around my
hole and I let out another moan through the mouthful of cock. He pushed a
finger inside of me and as a reflex, my hips bucked up. I moaned again,
this time sounding more like a whimper.

“That’s a nice pussy,” he said. “Tight. Hungry pussy.”

He shoved his finger deep inside. Even with his cock pushing against my
throat, I whimpered loud enough to make me feel shame for emitting such a
feminine sound.

“Is this a real virgin pussy,” he asked. “Don’t you lie to me.”

I take my mouth off his dick and look up to his face.

“Yes, sir.” I pause, almost relishing this moment in which I have
surrendered all free will to the point where I have to beg this fat
man. “Please sir, be gentle.”

He smiled another snarl and pushed my head back on his dick.

“Of course I’ll be gentle.” He pushed his finger inside again, making me
whimper. “It’s my hole, isn’t it?”

He didn’t pull his finger out. It was buried completely inside my asshole
and made no movement. He was waiting for a response.

Reflexively, I arch my back deeper, as if I were trying to swallow more of
his finger, which was impossible. “Yes, sir. It’s your hole. Please,” I
feel shudders in my body again, “take care of it, sir. Please take care of
your hole.”

As if that was his cue, the man waved my face from his cock. He walked to
the end of the bed. He was behind me. I hadn’t touched it for over half an
hour, but my own cock had sprung to full erection. My ass cheeks are spread
wide and a naked man with a monster 12-inch cock was standing behind me. I
was so excited, I could feel pre-cum oozing out of my dickhead like a
fountain. This is finally going to happen. I’m going to get fucked.

My heart is a sledgehammer in my chest. I can’t catch my breath. He wraps
his hand around the inside of my thigh and pulls it so my knees spread,
lowering my ass. The tension in my muscles strain, but I forget the pain as
soon as I feel a warm, ridged rod dig into my ass crack. He was rubbing his
cock between my buttcheeks as if he were fitting a sausage into a bun. I
didn’t think it possible, but it feels even harder, more concrete, now than
when it was in my mouth. I moan lightly and rest my weight on my elbows,
exposing even more of my desperate hole.

I feel all the pressure concentrate into one sensitive spot. His dickhead
was pressed against my hole, fighting its way inside.

Almost instantly, I can feel it’s impossible. The pressure against me is
enormous. His finger hurt enough, this was easily four times thicker and
more than three times as long. He grabs my hips and starts to pull me back
against him. Tense with fear, I push out as if I were taking a shit, hoping
it will ease his entry. His dick breaks the surface of my asshole and I am
flashed with one strobe of pain that stabs my entire body. The pain is
thick, monstrous. My body surges and throws itself forward. My arms
collapse and my face hits the mattress.

“FUCK! Fuckfuckfuckfuckfuck!” I’m acting purely on reflex. This is the only
word I can form, a primal reaction to this intense pain. “FUCK!” A few
eternal seconds pass and I realize that I just failed. I failed at being a
faggot. I failed at getting fucked. I push my face into the mattress, as if
I could bury it both to escape the pain and hide my shame. “I’m sorry,
sir. I’m sorry. It hurts. It hurts.” I try not to picture the man standing
behind me, assuredly frustrated and annoyed at the failed faggot writhing
in pain before him. “I’m sorry, sir. I didn’t think it would hurt like
this.”

The man lays next to me on the bed. My face is still buried in the
mattress.

“That’s okay.” For the first time, his voice sounds natural, if not
reassuring. “Most girls can’t take my dick the first time.”

He was obviously pleased with himself. I should have been annoyed at his
hubris. But the pain, which was just now fading, convinced me that he spoke
the truth. I feel his hand lie against the side of my stomach. His thick
fingers dig into my side. I can feel his damp body hair from his firm, fat
stomach on my smooth lean back. “My wife can’t take it in her ass either,”
he says, running his hand up to my ribs.

I am finally catching my breath. My body, which was tense like a solid
block, is now easing.

Now, I notice my ass is still in pain. Unlike the rest of my body, the
muscles surrounding my asshole never stopped burning. It’s because he was
pushing inside me. The thick monster cockhead is penetrating my puckered
hole.

“Wait, wait,” I protest.

The man makes no pretense to stop. I feel his mustache on my ear. He
shushes me with a harsh breath. “Shut up,” he whispers hard, spitting on my
ear. “This is how I get into my wife.”

I have no course of protest. There is nothing I can say to make him
stop. And the truth is, I don’t want him to. My ass continues to strain and
burn. I can feel the ring of my hole stretch. I stifle a whimper and writhe
on the bed. My back folds back and forth. The man senses that I’m trying to
squirm away from his dick so his grip on my stomach tightens, holding my
hips in place. I am helpless. My movements are restricted. All I can do is
push my face into the mattress. I stop fighting it and moan, whimper, cry.

“It hurts, sir.” My voice is desperate, helpless and loud. I can’t help
it. I know it doesn’t matter what I say. “It hurts, sir. It hurts so much.”
If anything, I am feeding his ego.

“I know it does,” he says, not bothering to comfort me.

I am passed the point of pretense. I start whimpering and moaning like a
faggot. A woman.

Then I feel something new, coarse bristles against my smooth ass
cheeks. It’s his pubic hair. He is inside me entirely. The thought makes me
horny all over again, but the feeling is eclipsed by the pain that starts
at my asshole and radiates to the front of my stomach.
“Holy shit,” I say. I reach between my legs. His balls, sweaty and hairy,
are pressed directly against my ass. “I can’t believe you are inside me.”

He starts to pull out. For a moment, I worry that I am releasing a massive
shit. But I know this feeling. He pushes it back inside. I squeeze shut my
eyes and squeal. He does this again. Then again. His speed picks up. Behind
me, I hear his breathing become more rapid. Each thrust makes me squeal.

“I knew you could take it,” he says through his ragged breathing. “You have
a nice hungry pussy. It doesn’t want to let go of my cock.”

He is right. The pain is almost unbearable. But now that he is inside me, I
can’t picture life not stretched to my limit like this. The pleasure is so
intertwined with the pain, I can’t figure if there is even a difference
between the two.

When he is satisfied that my ass is loose enough, the man pulls out,
causing a massive surge of burning energy throughout my body. He lays on
his back. “Get on,” he says. I jump at his command. “Ride me, little
pussy.”

Lying on his back, his belly rises up like a perfect, hairy bulb. Still,
his massive cock stands higher than the mountain of flesh just above
it. “Yes sir,” I say as I squat over him. I sit on the master dick and
ignore the pain as best I can as my pussy envelopes the appendage
entirely. I ride this fat man as hard as I can. My ass cheeks claps against
his thighs, the headboard lightly bangs against the wall and the bed
springs squeak. Combined, it all creates a pornographic rhythm that
solidifies my cock.

Having regained some form of composure, I try to stifle my moans, which are
driven purely by pain. Even here, as I enact my deepest dream come true, I
remember in the next room, just passed this wall that the bedpost is
lightly banging against, the children watching television, with plastic
toys lying on the floor. My lungs want to release loud moans. I want to
sound like a man mired in this web of pain and sexual arousal. As I stifle
the moans, they come out as strained, high-pitched squeals. I sound like a
porn actress in one of those virgin scenes. This visibly pleases the man.

“Ride it with your sweet pussy. Ride it hard.”

I slam down on his God-like penis with the full force of my 150 pounds. My
only regret, even as my ass aches, is that I can’t fit more of him inside
of me. My life has disappeared; school, the team, my parents, nothing
matters but my asshole and his dick. I didn’t care about anything but
feeling his massive cockhead punch the inside of my stomach. My own cock is
only semi-hard and flopped about with several silver threads of pre-cum
trailing the puckered lips of my foreskin. The only indication of time
passing is in my knees, which aches from the constant squatting and
grinding. My thigh muscles start to cramp, but even that pain can’t
distract me from this sacred totem. I continue to work my ass on his dick.

I don’t realize that the longer I am riding the man, the louder I get. My
moans are now less strained, deeper and louder. The man suddenly shoots up,
as best as he can with that huge belly constricting his movements. He
pushes against my chest, obviously trying to get me on my back. Taking my
silent command, I lean back and wrap my legs around his wide torso. He has
a little trouble finding his position, but I squeeze my asshole muscles as
tight as I can, refusing to let go of this massive probe.

My legs are stretched wide around his massive torso and the man is firmly
in place. He wastes no time and starts fucking me in perfect rhythm. With
my legs up, it feels like his cock was reaching a deeper level inside
me. The pain is new again. I start to moan with a full voice, unable to
stifle any part of it. Unable to care. His face betrays a sign of worry
about the noise I am making. Simultaneously, he is obviously pleased with
the damage he is causing inside me. He pumps his cock even harder, causing
me to release a full-blown yell.

“FUCK … me!” I say, dragging the final vowel for several strained
seconds.

The pain is growing with such magnitude in this position. His weight, which
I’m guessing tops nearly 300 pounds, intensifies each fuckpump he drives
into me. As if every single pound of this fat bastard is concentrated on
his humongous dick that is repeatedly punching into me.

“Please, sir,” I am completely out of breath, as if I had been playing ball
for the entire evening. “Please, wait. Stop. I need a minute. Please, sir.”

Once again, I realize I am helpless. Entirely at the will of this man and
his cock. I push my hands out in an effort to stop him from pumping into
me. It does nothing. He keeps fucking me uninterrupted. If anything, he is
pushing harder now.

“You don’t want me to stop,” he saysin a condescending voice. “This is what
you came here for, isn’t it?”

It was true. I wanted this. I still do, despite the agony that increases
each time his heavy, sweaty body slams into my butt.

He wraps each arm under my shoulders and pulls my body toward him as he
simultaneously thrusts into my hole with a sledgehammer force. My face
tightens like a fist, tears flood my eyes and a yell escaped my lungs.

“Isn’t it?” He yells directly into my flinching face.

My eyes are sealed shut as my body tries to resolve the jolt of pain. “Yes,
sir,” I say in a strained whisper.

He shoots two more concrete thrusts into me, like a punishment. Each thrust
is timed so they stress the verbs when he says: “Look at me, when you talk
to me.”

I press my hands into my face as hard as I can, then ball them into fists
on my forehead. I force my eyes open to look directly into his ugly face,
tears are streaming down to my ears.

“I’m sorry, sir.” My voice is shaking from the pain and anger. “Yes,
sir. You’re right, sir. This is what I came here for, sir. This is all I
want, sir.”

He stops his fuck rhythm. “Good, pussy,” he says. He pulls out of me and
for a second, I am relieved to be free of the pain. Then I realize that I’m
empty. I’m only a gaping, sloppy hole.

The man slides the mirrored closet door open and picks up a t-shirt from
the floor. He throws it on the bed and, with one hand, lifts my legs by the
ankles and positions them on his shoulders. I am completely doubled over,
my knees digging into my chest and my hairy calves run up, framing his
disgustingly lascivious face. Immediately, I feel my asshole shift as if it
were allowing his monster dick even further inside of me. I let my head
fall back, with my mouth wide open as I contemplate my ability to withstand
what is coming next. My chest is thudding like a machine.

“Sir, I don’t think I …” I try to talk in smooth, even words, but my
adrenaline is boiling.

“Yes you can,” he said, like it was a command. “It’s my hole. I say what it
can and can’t do. This pussy is ready for a real pounding.”

His smile is now a full snarl. I have nothing, except what he wants to give
me. I spread both hands out to my sides, as if I were blindly feeling for
salvation. I get nothing but the blanket over the bed, which I ball into my
fists. It’s the only power I have, grabbing the sweat-soaked blanket.

The man starts to fuck me. He fucks me hard. By the third thrust, he is in
a full push-up position, balancing his weight with his hands, his toes and
his dick, which is pounding into me with a force that feels like it splits
me in half. I have lost all control. I can’t let go of the blanket. I can’t
open my eyes. I can’t stifle my screams. Each thrust pulls out of me a deep
throated moan.

The man grabs the shirt he pulled from the closet and stuffs it into my
mouth. It’s not clean, it has a strong scent. It smells like sweat and
rancid sugar. It’s a grey t-shirt and I can see browned splotches. Against
my cheek, I feel jagged crust scratching from the shirt. I know this
feeling, this scent. I have this exact same shirt at home, in my room,
under my bed. It’s my cum rag. The shirt I use to wipe off the loads of
semen that I spill on my stomach, my bed, my desk. It’s the shirt I have to
hide from my mom, so it hasn’t been washed for weeks, if not months.

I don’t know his excuse, but this heavy cum rag also hasn’t been washed for
a while. The scent wafts heavily from the crusty fabric. It’s
simultaneously grotesque and exciting. I inhale deep and quick in between
moans, as if I were huffing his dead, dried semen. I am screaming into the
shirt. Even if he weren’t penetrating me with 12 inches of thick cock, his
weight crushes me. I can’t tell if I still feel pleasure, or if my fear and
pain has become unbearable. Not that it matters. I am at the will of this
fat man who has not slipped his fuck rhythm for 15 minutes. The sweat is
beading all over his face. He cranks his neck and wipes the sweat from his
fat face onto my bare chest.

My saliva continues to collect in my gagged mouth. It creates an acrid
taste as it saturates his cum encrusted shirt. I have to concentrate on my
breathing, which is limited to my nose. Each exaggerated breath I suck in
is dull and stale from the scent of his cum rag.

Finally, probably 10 minutes after I’d had too much, the man pulls the
shirt out of my mouth and his cock from my asshole. Once again, I feel
shame from my exposed hole, stretched and slathered in lube. In my mind, I
picture a gaping void in between my butt cheeks, glowing red to the
world. He leaves me contorted with my ass in the air and lays back.

“Suck me off,” he says.

I get into position but hesitate when my face gets close enough to his cock
that I can see the dirty lube in smeared splotches across his shaft. It
smells like moist plastic and shit. My shit. I hesitate at the thought of
sucking the discharge from my own asshole.

The man pulls my hair and tries to shove my face down on his dick. “Suck
it.” He is making a clear order.

For the first time in what I guess is two hours, his cock is not inside me
and it’s cold agony. Realizing this, I swallow his cock and suck. The sour
taste makes me retch, but I ignore the reflex and keep sucking. I
concentrate on his massive flesh rod and bob my head as fast as I can.

“I want you to swallow my load,” he says, grabbing the sides of my
head. “Swallow every drop that I give you. It’s a gift.”

His arms stiffen and he takes control of my head, guiding it in a fuck
rhythm. I just focus on keeping my mouth wet and my suction steady.

“You know, sperm is a protein,” he says. “You swallow my load and digest
it, it will help make you strong. My gift to you will help you build these
smooth muscles you’ve got. My cum will feed you and become a part of
you. When that happens, you won’t need another man’s seed inside you. Do
you understand?”

He pulls my head back. I try to fight his grip and wrap my lips around his
dick, but he doesn’t relent.

“Yes, sir,” I say, hoping he’ll let me go.

Instead, he pulls my hair harder. “I own your pussy. That means I also own
your mouth-pussy.” He pulls my hair again.

“Yes, sir.”

“Say it.” He pulls harder.

“My mouth-pussy is yours, sir. My pussy is yours, sir.”

“Once you swallow my gift, I don’t want you to swallow another man’s seed.”
He yanks again.

“I will not swallow another man’s seed, sir.”

“I don’t care if another guy shoots a load in your pussy. It’s a worthless
hole, a garbage can for dead sperm. But, it’s my hole. Only I can say who
comes in your pussy.”

“It’s your hole, sir. Only you can say who fucks me, sir.”

He continues to hold my hair with one hand. With his other, he grabbs the
base of his cock and swings it against my face. It’s a heavy, fleshy baton
that feels like light punches. I keep my mouth gaping open, hoping he would
let me go so I can continue sucking. I think he finally notices exactly how
enthralled I am by his cock. He brushes it against my lips and I follow
suit with my tongue, trying to taste any cock residue.

“From now on, my dick belongs inside you.” His voice is still friendly,
almost pausing between each syllable, as if he were talking to a
child. “When I say it, you get on your knees and suck.”

“Yes, sir. I will suck your dick at your command, sir.”

He traces his dick head around my lips again. I fight the urge to extend my
tongue just to get a taste.

“In fact, that is your home, now.”

Both of my holes are aching and sore, but hurt even more that they are
empty. I want nothing more than his cock inside me somehow.

“My home is in your crotch, sir.”

“In fact, that is your first lesson, hole. I will say `Home,’ and that is
your command to come home.”

“Home, sir. In your crotch, sir.”

“Do we understand each other?”

“Yes, sir. I understand, sir.”

He doesn’t let go. He continues to hold me by my hair and stairs into my
eyes, as if he were trying to re-write the programming in my head with his
stare. He rests his dick against my bottom lip, but holds firm to the back
of my hair.

“Please, sir,” my voice sounds like I’m sobbing, which isn’t far from the
truth.

“Please what?”

“Please, sir. Please, sir.” His grip tightens.

“Please what?”

“Please sir, let me su…” He pulls my hair with a new force and slaps my
face with his cock three times, in perfect beat with his words when he
says: “Please what, Hole?”

“Please sir … Let me go home.”

He finally releases my hair. I eagerly start to swallow his cock. He grabs
my head with both hands and guides it up and down his cock. I focus on my
lips and tongue, ensuring I suck as hard as I can.

He mutters sporadically as I work over his dick. “Make me cum,
hole. Swallow my load. Accept my gift.”

His thighs start to tighten around my thin frame. His pelvis starts to
thrust up. I suck harder and bob faster, then faster. I get ready. His
breath becomes strong and ragged. With his cockhead at the back of my
throat, I feel the entire probe convulse. Then I feel a hot squirt, a
strong stream that makes me gag. I ignore it and keep sucking. Another
squirt. Then another. The man is releasing a heavy, strained sigh.

“Don’t waste a drop,” he says, still holding my head.

I stop bobbing my head, but suck from as close to his base as I can reach
and slowly work my way to the tip. I try to milk every drop of cum from his
dick. His pelvis surges lightly and I keep sucking. He finally lets go of
my head and I keep sucking. I want everything he can possibly give.

When I’m sure I’ve sucked out all the cum he can offer, I gently kiss the
head of his dick.

“Thank you, sir.” I’m talking to the dick. I want to thank it for the two
and a half hours of agonizing ecstasy.

I look at the naked man with the massive, round, hairy belly lie in front
of me. This monstrous cock is now limp, lost in his bulbous, hairy
thighs. For a second, I have no idea what to do. I’m on my knees on the
bed. He shows absolutely no interest in further acknowledging me. I am not
needed here. I am not wanted here.

I slip on my running shorts and shirt. I sit on the floor to tie my shoes
but the blunt floor shoots a pain into my sore asshole. Instead, I take a
knee to tie my shoes. As I’m doing so, the man starts to talk, without
bothering to lift his head.

“Do you work?”

“Yes,” I lie.

“What time do you go in?”

“I have to be there at 8:30. I usually leave at 8.”

“Keep an eye on your email account. I need you to stay prepared the next
time I need your pussies.”

“Yes, sir.”

There is no movement. No sign that he’s going to acknowledge me again. I
walk out. It’s dark. I start the run home. Each step, as my weight crashes
down, my asshole thuds with light pain. My mouth smells like a bathroom
urinal, I can still taste cum. The thought makes me hard. I run home,
following my still aching hard-on.

 

Date: Wed, 30 Jan 2013 01:07:56 -0700
From: Jay Dee <juliet.delta88@gmail.com>
Subject: Home part 4

Disclaimer: I own all the rights to this original work and give license to
the Nifty archive. Copyright 2013. All characters are fictional, any
coincidences to living people are entirely coincidental.

If you haven’t already, please consider donating to Nifty, this is a
wonderful project. Comments, critiques: juliet.delta88 (at) gmail (dot)
com. -thanks

By the time I get home, there is a cold, wet mess in the back of my
shorts. During my run home, the pent up lube and discharge that was
loosened during the marathon ass-fucking session seeped out of my
stretched, loose hole.

My family is in the middle of dinner when I walk in. I dare not walk into
the dining room, choosing instead to stand at the entrance, hoping nobody
catches the whiff of ass sex from my body or semen from my breath. `I’m not
hungry,’ I lie, I am actually starving. `I have a lot of homework.’ I run
upstairs to my bedroom and lock the door.

I stand in front of the full-length mirror on my closet, inspecting myself
as if I were looking for any noticeable changes. Any visible proof that I
am no longer a virgin. My jet-black hair is tousled. I run a hand through
it, tugging at handfuls. I can still feel tender areas of my scalp where
the man yanked at me. My face, I look close to see if there is any proof
that I was choking on cock all evening. Leaning toward the mirror, I
stretch my jaw, which is sore. My mouth is—almost inexplicably
considering the torment I just put it through—still the same shape. My
breath still smells like a dick.

I step back. My grey t-shirt is dark around the pits and the center of my
chest from my run. I peel it off, revealing my lean frame. My chest is
mostly smooth, but there is the beginning of a defined crevice running down
the center. There is a thin pasture of black hairs sprouting around the
line and surrounding my dark nipples. The skin over my stomach is soft, but
taut revealing the subtle waves of my abdominal muscles. Another light
patch of hair sprouts around my belly button. Looking down, I notice my
stink. There is the regular musk wafting from my armpits, but there is also
something new. My body smells. It’s his sweat, which dripped from his
round, mustachioed face and showered me practically all over. I am
saturated in his stink.

I pull down my shorts slowly, the crotch sticks to the tip of my foreskin,
which is glazed in precum. The smell of cock immediately hits my nose. I
inspect my underwear. Sure enough, the back is dark, moist. I dip my face
toward the fabric and smell sex, the plastic scent of lube, my own traces
of shit and precum. My cock starts to stiffen.

I turn around to inspect my butt. The cheeks, usually smooth and pale
compared to the rest of my body, are red. I spread them apart. It’s too
dark to tell, so I grab my shaving mirror from my dresser and lay it on the
floor. I assume the position and squat over it. My hole is a mess. It
glistens in the light. It’s usually a dark color, surrounded with sprouts
of black pubic hair. Now it’s bright red, and swollen, as if it were
puckered, reaching out for a bloated kiss. I rub my fingers over it,
sending dull waves of pain through my body. My cock is now at full
attention, seeping even more precum. I attempt to insert a finger into my
hole, but the pain is sharp, the area is so tender.

I lie back on my bed. My cock stands at its full eight inches, pointing
toward my bedpost, pleading me for release. With one hand, I grab it and
start rubbing the foreskin over the tip. With my other, I twist my nipple,
which sends waves of pleasure everywhere, an intense transmission. I shoot
my load almost instantly, the white eruption streaming thick ropes into my
hair, on my pillow, even on my wall. It’s one of the strongest, furthest
cumshots I have ever released. Despite the impressive distance, there is a
sizeable puddle lying on my chest and stomach, running off onto the bed.

Suddenly, I’m washed over with regret. The afterglow is only a flash and my
world is now darker because of it. I am ashamed. I hate that I squealed for
the giant pig of a man, I hate that I begged for his cock, I hate that I
begged for more. I hate the faint taste of dick in my mouth.

I had anticipated this. I knew this would happen. Instead of wallowing, I
continue to jack my dick. I lift up my legs and, with my free hand, I rub
my asshole, releasing fresh pangs into my body. The pain is still intense,
enough to eclipse my regret. I insert a finger to further awaken my sore
hole and ignore my reflex to pull it out. I stretch my neck to sniff my
body odor, it’s pungent, but not enough. I grab my dirty, post-ass fuck
underwear and cover my face like a mask. The damp patch is cold on my
forehead. It’s revolting, but I inhale deep.

This time, it takes what I guess is five minutes, but I shoot another
load. Most of it joins the pools on my stomach and chest, but there is
another spurt that lands on my cheek.

I refuse to stop. Another five, maybe even 10 minutes, and I am shooting
another load, this time it seeps out of my cock and collects mostly on my
stomach and pubic hair. I hold out for one more and continue to rub my
dick. My forearm is cramping and my foreskin is red, but I charge through
it, forcing my body to surrender. My fourth cumshot is weak and light. The
accompanying orgasm is unfulfilling and I contemplate one more. But my
torso is already covered completely in my cold jizz. The droplets on my
cheek have rolled into my ear, but I make no move to wipe away any of
it. Instead, I lay back, naked, covered in my own semen, like an animal
lying in its waste. I am content with the mess I’ve created on my body. But
I am even more proud of the sperm that is inside me, germinating somewhere
in my digestive system.

I squeeze my raw, loose sphincter muscles, and relish the flashes of
pain. It’s like I’m proving to myself the massive milestone I’ve
accomplished today. I’m exhausted and asleep in minutes.

***

I slept for 10 hours, over the blankets, naked, with the lights on, and I’m
still groggy. In my drowsy haze the next morning, I instinctively grab my
dick and feel my pubic hair, it’s bristled from the dried cum and I’m
instantly reminded of sex. I feel over my stomach. The dried semen flakes
off. I reek like a cum rag.

I check my phone for the time. My heart skips a beat to see a new email
message. It all but freezes to see His name.

“Home 730”

“Fuck!” It’s almost 7:10.

Luckily, I’m already naked. I jump straight in the shower and get
ready. This is my first shower that I can remember in which I do not jack a
load. I barely make it out the door in 15 minutes and jump on my
skateboard, pushing hard down the street. I have to pick up my board the
last quarter mile and sprint. As I race up the concrete stairs, I pull out
my phone, it’s 7:32.

“FUCK!”

I make a show of my feet slamming against the concrete walkway, hoping He
will notice the hustle. I reach His door and push into it. It’s latched,
unlike last night. I twist the knob, it’s solid, locked. Annoyed that he is
not prepared for the time he set aside, I knock impatiently.

I knock again.

My left hand reaches down and squeezes the length of flaccid cock. For the
first time in years, I am not horny. In fact, I’m still spent from the
marathon cum session I had last night. I am not sure what drove me here so
desperately.

I knock again. This time, I realize something. Unlike last night, the
curtain is spread wide. I peer into the open window and see Him, lying in
bed uncovered and naked. He looks horrible: Bulbous belly extended from the
bed like a hairy mound. His broad, barrel chest juts upward, also
completely covered in dark, coarse hair. His arm facing the window is
extended up, His forearm resting over his eyes. This armpit hair is clumped
and swirled, saturated in sweat. I imagine a musty odor coming out of His
armpit.

At once, my body tenses with apprehension and my heart lightens at the site
of the masculine flesh. I might have even smiled. I tap the window, hoping
to wake Him. He doesn’t move at first. I tap again. And this time, His hand
moves into His crotch. I’m relieved that He is awake, but it is short-lived
when I realize He has no intention of getting up.

Instead, He digs into the dark space under His belly and pulls up His
cock. It is as massive and glorious as I remember. He lays it on his
thigh. The head is pointing directly at the window, at me, a serpent with
its single eye fixated on me, taunting me. Haunting me. I can’t help but
lick my lips. I knock on the window. In answer, He lifts up His cock its
entire length and begins to stroke it. The entire time, His left arm is
still draped over his eyes so he doesn’t even have to pretend that he is
ignoring me.

It’s clear to me now. I was late. He ordered me Home at 7:30, and I was two
minutes late. He is punishing me.

I knock again.

“Please,” I say. “Please, sir.”

There is a flash in my mind of the kids I saw last night in the room next
door. There also must be other guests in this hotel, people who can see me,
holding my crotch, pleading to the window of this fat man’s room. I am
plagued with shame, but at the same time, I don’t care. I try the door
again, as if it had somehow unlocked itself. I return to the window to
watch Him now fully masturbating His gigantic cock.

“I’m sorry, sir. I’m sorry I was late. Please!”

He only masturbates. I know now that I really have no desire to fuck. I
have no will to cum. I barely have the sperm. But I am still completely
enraptured by sex, by His cock. Last night, I was blessed by the massive
tool and now I am once again kept at bay from it, separated by space, a
locked door and my own ineptitude to obey His command. I can see now that I
am repulsed by His body, but I am also close to breaking through this glass
just to please it and to serve at the altar of this monstrous cock. I
suspect He knows this, which is why He is putting on the show. I clench my
asshole to prove that it is still massively sore. It is also empty, useless
without Him and His massive dick stretching me beyond my limits. I know
that if He would have me, I would easily suffer through more brutality and
let him inside once again.

I’ve been standing here for almost 20 minutes, knocking sporadically, but
having accepted the futility. A hotel guest walks past me. I don’t even
bother to look up, I don’t know if the guest looked into His room to see
whose attention I am trying to get. I don’t care. He is jacking his cock
furiously and I can only watch with regret. Suddenly, His back arches and
He cums, sending a large splash into the air and on his belly. My heart is
beating rapidly as I lament the wasted seed that belongs inside me.

The man finally uncovers his face from his arm and sits up. Paying no mind
to me, he rises and walks across the room into the bathroom. I watch,
admiring the dark patch of back hair and his pale butt cheeks.

“Shit,” I say to myself. I leave, rejected and haunted.

My day is all but wasted. It’s almost as if I am recovering from a major
trauma. Literally not a few seconds can pass without me thinking about His
cock. It doesn’t matter where I am or what I am doing. Standing in line to
grab breakfast and I fight the urge to punch myself in the crotch for not
running two minutes faster this morning. In first hour AP English, I
replayed the fuck scene in my head completely, starting from that first
email message exchange. In second hour Calculus, I slowly flexed the ring
of my asshole muscles repeatedly, relishing the dull waves shooting from
the sore hole. Every time I closed my eyes, I could swear the light that
filtered through my eyelids formed the shape of a giant erect penis.

And every few minutes, I check my phone. When I don’t check it, I swear I
feel it vibrate in my pants pocket. My heart skips a beat when I see the
icon for a new email message. But it’s always bullshit. Homecoming
committee, Spanish club, study groups, absolutely nothing that matters. By
fourth hour Drama, I have surrendered everything and stop pretending to
care. I sit in the back of the auditorium staring at the face of my phone,
rubbing my forefinger over my nipple. I am silently begging, praying for
the fat, bald man to send me a message.

The only respite I have to look forward to is sixth hour, Weight
Training. This is the highlight of any given day. It starts with changing
in the locker room, undressing with a dozen other dudes saturated in the
boner-inducing blended scent of industrial pine, deodorant, sweat and
feet. But even here, my joy is ripped. It’s like, the bodies are suddenly
too frail, weak and hairless. Even worse, what used to be an enticing
challenge to sneak a peek at any of a number of hung cocks, is now
meaningless. My dick is bigger than just about everyone in this locker
room. I’ve covertly studied the outline in grey sweatpants and I’m pretty
sure my cock hangs lower and thicker than even the coach’s.

I’m not sure my own dick is big enough for me anymore.

I remain haunted. The second day, nothing changes, except I continue with
my normal jack-off schedule: First in bed when I wake up; the second in my
room immediately after basketball practice and the third in bed, before
going to sleep. The third day, I add two more jack-off sessions, one in the
shower and the other before dinner. By the end of the week, I am seriously
contemplating sneaking off to the locker room during lunch to spill a load
in the toilet. All the while, I check my phone constantly. I curse every
person who sends me a message because they are not Him.

***

“Home 530 dont be late”

It’s been two weeks. I’m not any less haunted. I have only lost the spark
of hope that flashed at every new email message prompt on my phone. Which
is why I wasn’t expecting anything when I opened my messages before
basketball practice. Sitting bare assed on a bench in the locker room, my
cock hanging down with the head resting on the cold, smooth wood, my heart
skipped a beat and dick swelled when I saw His message.

It’s only 4, now. I have time, too much time. My excitement is so intense
during practice that I can’t hide my hard-on, even under my jock. I fake a
cramp so I won’t rub my cock on anyone during scrimmage. Instead I hit the
shower and take a long one, carefully washing my asshole, my cock throbbing
the entire time.

I get to His hotel complex 15 minutes early to be safe and sit in the
parking lot. At 5:25, I climb the stairs and sit on the rail. At 5:29, I
walk to His door and wait a few seconds before slowly pushing it open. It
shuts behind me and the dark room swallows me from the daylight. For a
moment, there is no movement in the room as I walk toward the bed. Then a
sliver of light slices the darkness and quickly expands. He walks out of
the bathroom, naked. Even in the silhouette, I can see His elephantine cock
swinging between his legs. I can even hear it as it slaps against his thick
thighs.

“Why the hell are you still wearing clothes?” His voice is stern,
frustrated.

I stutter. I have no idea how to respond.

“You are useless to me clothed.”

Quickly, I lift my t-shirt. It’s half over my head when he grabs it and
pulls it off me with force before throwing it toward the front door. I pull
out the end of my belt from the loop and He grabs it, yanking my pelvis
toward him with a jerk as he unfastens the buckle. He pulls my jeans button
open with the same force and pulls down my pants and underwear to my knees
with a quick jolt.

“Get this shit off!”

His deep voice sparks fear in my heart and I struggle to yank off my shoes.

“Hurry.”

I’m naked and he immediately grabs the back of my head and pushes me to my
knees. I am as happy as I have ever been. I lean over and tilt my head up
as far as I can so I can reach the tip of His cock with my tongue, like a
child slowly anticipating the lick of the summer’s first ice cream
cone. Within seconds, I wrap my lips around the thickness and slurp
greedily.

It happens much faster than last time, the cockhead warms up and swells in
my mouth. Once again, I am lost in time, I guess it’s been five minutes and
he is rock hard. It’s too heavy to point upward, so it hangs down, solid
right in my face.

I grab the base to point the cock toward my mouth. I concentrate on my
technique, hoping to impress the fat man. The corners of my mouth stretch
as I wrap my lips around my teeth and slide myself over the cock head. The
skin stretches even further as I get to the shaft, sucking at the organ the
entire time. The dickhead pushes into the back of my throat before I slide
my lips back. The man starts thrusting his hips slowly, making sure to push
even deeper into my throat. Judging by my fist wrapped around the base of
His cock, I don’t think I am even fitting half of it into my mouth, despite
it being completely filled.

His breathing turns ragged. He pulls out the cock and I look at it with
longing, hoping to get it back into my mouth. Instead, he lays the
monstrous dick across my face. It’s heavy. It’s also longer than my face
from chin to forehead. He pushes my head under his body, so the cock slides
up my face and his balls hit my chin. I stick out my tongue to welcome them
into my mouth. They are the size of large eggs and I pay equal respect to
each one, sucking them lightly into my mouth where my tongue washes them
thoroughly. The man moans and starts swinging his dick so it slaps the top
of my head.

He pushes my head even further so his balls are soon resting on my nose and
my mouth is working his taint. I can tell he washed, but I can still smell
the sour musk of ballsweat and his asshole. It makes me eager and I push my
face into His crotch with all the strength I can muster. For a second he
reinforces his stance. I simultaneously fear and hope that he is going to
push me into his asshole. I don’t know if I can handle the thought of
licking the smelly hole, but I’m also too horny not to obey.

The man backs away, letting his balls slide across my face until they are
back resting under my chin. I am still on my knees and my head is craned
completely so my face is point straight up. He swings his baton on my face.

“If you’re going to be my hole, you will have to learn to swallow my cock
completely.”

His sentence is still registering in my mind, but my body immediately
starts to shiver.

“Yes sir,” I say, hopeful.

“I mean all the way,” he says, dickslapping me again. “I’m tired of these
faggots who call themselves bottoms but can’t take a dick.”

“Please sir.”

“You are one of the few to take me entirely, but you can’t swallow it.” He
holds my head back but slides his dick so the head is on my lips. “That
only makes you half useful to me.”

“Please sir.” I want it so bad. “I will learn. Let me learn. Let me be your
hole.”

He shoves it into my mouth, holding my head so my neck stays craned at a
sharp angle. I suck it as best I can and he fucks my mouth from above,
using his knees to lower himself in and out. I can feel the thick cock head
collide with my throat. His dick slides a little deeper at this angle, but
still not anywhere near all of it will fit.

“Bed.”

It was an abrupt command. I’m not sure if this is a punishment for not
swallowing his cock but I obey and sit on the bed. He pushes me on my back
and walks to the closet. From the floor, he grabs the same t-shirt, the cum
rag, and throws it next to me. It looks even crustier and more stained than
last time.

Back at the end of the bed, he is stroking his cock with a handful of lube.

“Up.”

I look at him, not understanding.

“Come on!” he says, almost yelling. “Show me my hole!”

I immediately lift my legs.

“There it is,” he says. “Sweet pussy.”

He rubs lube on my asshole, sticking a finger inside as if he were
inspecting a clogged drain. He ignores my whimper and strained expression.

“You have no idea how fucking frustrating it is to get some fancy pants in
here who can’t take it.”

He is finger banging me and I try to ignore the pain, which becomes
difficult when he inserts a second finger.

“How can they call themselves gay and tell me to only put it in half way?”
He pauses, but I know he doesn’t want me to answer. “I tell them to get the
fuck out.”

His cockhead is pressed against my hole. Once again, I feel the pressure
and it feels just as impossible as the first time. I try to quell my heavy
breathing.

“So, I’m really …” He pauses and for the first time since our initial
meeting, he looks me in the eyes.

“I need to fuck.”

He eyes linger for a second and I nod. “Yes, sir.”

He pushes into me and immediately I moan at the stabbing pressure. I bite
the back of my wrist in an effort to stifle my cries. He is moving slow and
deliberate, but he still pushes inside me with no pause. My heart is
beating so hard it feels like a machine separate from my body. I start
sweating profusely and tears stream down my face into my ears. I want so
much to ask him to stop. To take it out and give me a minute to get used to
it, but I can see his face. He has no care for me, none beyond my asshole.

I feel the bristles of his pubic hair brush against my butt cheeks for only
a brief moment before he pulls out, nearly all the way and pushes into me
again. I can feel the inside of my asshole as it seals itself shut behind
his thick cockhead. And when he pushes it inside the second time, I can
feel the path split open. It hurts more the second time he thrusts into me
and I scream.

He pulls out slowly again. And in, taking his time. I don’t even try to
hide my crying and screaming. Wasting no time, he stuffs my mouth with the
cum rag and picks up his fuck rhythm. Soon he is fucking at full strength,
slamming into my butt with so much force I can feel my teeth rattle. I shut
my eyes and rest my head back and enjoy the tremendous force and pain. I am
still moaning and crying but I relish every second. I concentrate on my
asshole, every ridge of every vein on his huge dick as it slides inside of
me.

He places his hands on the insides of my knees and pushes them into my body
as far as they can reach. My thighs lie perfectly parallel to my
stomach. He is fucking me with a jackrabbit pace but an elephants strength,
his entire weight pushing himself into my butt.

Instinctively, I wrap my legs around my shoulders so my calves are resting
on my shoulder blades. I put no thought into this move except that I
sometimes do this at home when I want to suck my own cock. This pushes up
my asshole even further outside of my buttcheeks.

“Yeah,” he said short of breath. “Give me that pussy, little hole.”

He gets in pushup position, balancing himself on his toes, hands and cock
and fucks me even harder. His body odor wafts from his armpits and it is
thick and rank. His heavy belly smashes itself onto my thighs and face with
every thrust. It is pure agony and my paradise. Through the light from the
bathroom, which filters between our bodies, I can perfectly see the
silhouette of his cock sliding into me before it is eclipsed by his
suffocating gut.

Completely enraptured in the moment, I pull the cum rag out of my mouth.

“Please, sir.” I am completely out of breath and my words are stretched as
I conceal moans and whimpers. “Please, fuck me, sir. Fuck me, hard.

“I just want to be your hole, sir. Please, sir. Let me be your hole.”

My words are reflex. I have no control over what I am saying. I don’t even
know what I am begging for, but it seems appropriate.

“Please sir. Please sir, I just want to be your hole. Please … Give it to
me, sir.

“Please, fuck me like your girl.” I don’t know what the fuck I am saying,
but the words keep coming out of my mouth. “Please, mark your territory
sir. Please, please, sir, impregnate me.

“Cum inside me, sir!” I don’t quite realize what I said, but I know that’s
exactly what I want. “Please sir! Mark your territory. Please! Cum inside
me, please!”

With that, I felt it, a massive surge of heat exploding directly into my
gut. The man let out a guttural moan, not unlike an animal, but did not
slip his fuck rhythm. Another surge. And another. He stops fucking and
lifts his head toward the ceiling. I can see my hole and his cock, while
still deep inside me, has about four inches of shaft bridging our
bodies. It convulses and I can feel his sperm spread inside my body, as if
it were blasting out of a pump.

“Fuck yes,” the man says, entirely spent.

He lowers his head and injects his cock into my ass with a hard thrust,
pushing it deeper into me, as if he were trying to split me in two. I can
feel him spasm his pelvic muscles, trying to release every last drop of cum
into my body. He finally pulls out, an act which seems to take eternity as
his cock slides itself out of my hole.

He pushes my thighs into my body.

“You’re not done yet, little hole.”

I’m confused, but I recognize the unspoken command, I keep my legs entwined
behind my shoulders. The man turns on the light and I can directly see my
asshole, swollen and puckered. His cum is bubbling out of the orifice in
white suds.

“You made me cum inside the wrong pussy,” he says. “Remember? My seed
doesn’t belong in there. That’s a useless fuck hole where sperm dies. My
seed is supposed to give you strength.”

He is sitting next to me, next to my exposed asshole. He rubs his fingers
over my puckered hole, collecting the layer of spent cum that has seeped
out from it. He then reaches toward my face, my mouth.

“Take your medicine, little hole.”

I am hesitant. But still bursting with sexual energy. I slowly stick out my
tongue and feel a salty drip.

“Good hole.”

From his fingers I smell sex, it’s sharp and unpleasant. I tilt my head,
reaching for more of his seed. I lick his finger, then another. Suddenly I
am lapping at his entire hand, cleaning every drop of semen. He pulls back
and rubs my asshole again.

“Give me some more.”

The thought repulses me, but I push, the same movement as if I were taking
a shit and more white suds bubble from out of me.

“That’s a good girl.”

Again, I lap at his fingers, eventually sucking all four completely clean.

He goes back, and I push without a command, this time a large, thick dollop
seeps out of my hole. He is impressed.

“Got anymore for me?”

I can see my hole, swollen and puckered, it sinks inward then outward as I
work the semen out of my system. I squeeze out an even bigger stream that
starts as a pearl rising out of my hole then drips over into my buttcrack
followed by about a teaspoon full of cum. He collects it all in his fingers
and lifts his hand above my face.

The cum is thick and a big drop hangs from his fingers but I can’t reach
it. I stick out my tongue eagerly and tilt my body to give me more access
but he pulls away.

“Please, sir.”

“You really want this in your mouth?”

“Yes, sir. I need it. Please.” I feel like I could cry. I am begging
desperately, whining to be fed from my own asshole. Once again, I stick out
my tongue and try to tilt my body to reach the precious fluid. “Please,
sir. I need it. Please. Please.”

He lowers his hand so it is just within reach of my tongue and I attack,
licking eagerly, slurping and rubbing my face into his hand.

“Thank you, sir. Thank you.”

I manage to squeeze out over a dozen batches of ass sludge that He feeds
directly to my mouth. I eagerly lap up every drop and thank Him desperately
each time. I am almost disappointed when my ass fails to produce anymore.

The man stands up with his back toward me. I take this as a sign that he is
done and finally unwrap my legs, which are now stiff.

“You work tomorrow?”

“At 8:30.”

“Be here at 7:30 to wake me up with your mouth pussy.”

He walks to the bathroom.

“Don’t be late.”

I start gathering my clothes, which are in a pile by the door.

Date: Thu, 21 Feb 2013 01:03:18 -0700
From: Jay Dee <juliet.delta88@gmail.com>
Subject: Home Part Five

Disclaimer: I own all the rights to this original work and give license to
the Nifty archive. Copyright 2013. All characters are fictional, any
coincidences to living people are entirely coincidental.

If you haven’t already, please consider donating to Nifty, this is a
wonderful project. Comments, critiques: juliet.delta88 (at) gmail (dot)
com. -thanks

“Home” — Part Five

I don’t like to wear flip flops to school, but today I am dressing minimal,
clothes easy to get off: Baggy basketball trunks and my favorite Lakers
tank top. No sleeves, no socks, no underwear. It should go without saying
that my asshole ached with a thick pain that affected my walk. Pushing
myself on my skateboard was hard enough in these stupid slabs of rubber,
but each time my foot hit the pavement it felt like my guts would come
spilling out of my asshole.

As ordered, I push open the door to His room at 7:30. My shorts fall off my
thin hips and onto the floor as the door latches. I lift off my shirt with
one hand and leave it by my flip flops. Naked in about a second. If he is
awake, he gives no indication. He is naked, on his back with one leg
extended fully and the other jutting out at the hip. I have perfect
access. Quietly, I go Home. I shove my face into the moist, darkness under
his belly. I rub my nose over His flaccid dick and inhale deep the musty
cock essence as if it were crisp, morning mountain air. I stick out my
tongue and drag it from as far down as I can reach, tracing over mostly the
shaft but purposely skimming the folded skin of His ballsack, to the pubic
hair. He’s hard within seconds and I am fully slobbering over the massive
tool.

I’m not sure when he wakes up, but at some point, he grabs my head on both
sides and starts thrusting into my mouth. My only job is to suck as he
fucks my mouth. Once again, he tries to shove the cockhead into my throat
and I try to accommodate, gagging and slurping. At one point, I choke with
a guttural cough and a deep, gagging dry heave. I try to back off from his
crotch. But his grip only tightens. I just keep sucking. My eyes are
burning red with tears pouring down my face. My saliva is pooling off his
nuts and onto the bed. And he keeps fucking.

Then, without warning, I taste semen. I taste it in my nose first, even
before I feel it squirt into the back of my throat. I swallow just as
another squirt hits my mouth. Suddenly my mouth is full but His dick pumps
a river. Swallow, swallow. I choke and slurp. Tears and snot cover my
face. Finally, the gushing stops and I swallow. I am suffocated, completely
out of breath. He lets go of my head. I suck even harder to milk out any
remaining fluid and kiss the head as a sign of gratitude.

Except for the slurping sounds, the entire event was silent. The Man only
released a single, extended raspy exhale when He came. Now, He is simply
rolls over to his side, his belly shifting to hang downward toward the
mattress. I can feel it on my face, I am a mess. My hair is ratted where he
held me. My eyes are dry and presumably red and a mixture of tears, snot
and my cock-scented saliva are streaked down my chin.

My own dick is rock fucking hard. These basketball trunks were obviously
not a good idea considering I have an aching boner and am now heading to
school. I point my dick straight up so it rests against my flat stomach and
is held up by the waistband of my shorts. If I make it to school early
enough, I might be able to jerk off in the gym locker room before anybody
shows up. *** That was on Monday. He sends messages ordering me home both
Tuesday and Wednesday mornings. Both times, it plays out exactly the same:
Completely wordless. And even though He doesn’t acknowledge my
efforts—I’m not sure he has even looked at me either time—I dress the
same. I used to be one of the best dressed guys in school. Now I am
dressing like a bum with my dick flopping everywhere and my mouth smelling
like a urinal. I have to admit, I really liked it.

Then on Wednesday, He called me Home during fourth hour Drama. My life
froze as I read his simple email message. It was like I was wearing heavy
ear phones, I could hear my breathing, deep but muffled. My pulse thudded
an irregular rhythm. I still had three classes to go, as well as
basketball practice. Sitting in the back of the auditorium I was facing a
fork in the road. I had never missed a class since I caught the flu in the
second grade. But my cock was already tense, I could still taste cum in the
back of my mouth from this morning.

I know I am going to obey. I know that immediately. But I need to resolve
this internally. I need to realize and accept that even here, in school
where I have had my life’s greatest successes, I am a slave to a fat, bald
man that I secretly hated but to whom I am drawn with a force as terrible
as gravity. I grabbed my skateboard and bag and walked out of class,
ignoring my teacher’s calls for my attention.

His message was simple, but listed a new address. Luckily, it’s not far
from campus.

I’m at a strip mall. There is a laundry mat on one corner. Next to that is
a Christian bookstore. Then, at the center of the structure is a
contractor’s office. This is it. Him. According to the sign, the company is
based in the city, about an hour away. This is one of its satellite
offices. This could explain why he seems to live out of the hotel room, he
lives in the city and runs this regional office sporadically. I know it’s
none of my business thinking about all of this, but I can’t stop my brain.

There is an electronic beep when I enter. I’m simultaneously alarmed and
relieved to see there is receptionist’s desk in front that is empty.

I walk into the back office and close the door behind me. He is sitting
behind a desk. He looks almost professorial, a black tie, blue shirt tucked
into his slacks and shiny shoes. He glances away from his computer to look
me over. His eyes meet mine briefly then drop down. It’s a silent
command. I strip and leave my clothes in a pile on the floor. He rolls back
his chair as I approach, looking at my swinging dick. He kicks off his
shoes and casts his eyes down under his desk.

“Home.”

I get in my place and climb underneath. This is where I spend the rest of
my day. First He fishes his cock out of the zipper and I suck Him off. He
never acknowledges me, and makes no effort to cum. His monster cock rises,
then it falls. For the next hour I suck. Sometimes it is stiff, though
mostly it is flaccid. I still suck on it. He makes pays me no
mind. Although I don’t care. If anything, I am a toddler happy with his
pacifier. I only focus on His flesh. Eventually, he takes off his pants
completely, so he is naked from the waist down. Because of the position of
the desk and computer, anyone standing at the front door wouldn’t know he
was bare-ass naked much less that I was under the desk, playing with is
giant dick.

At one point, my heart freezes when I hear the office door swing open. It’s
the receptionist. I hear her voice, but pay no mind to the words. She
giggles and He reciprocates, causing his balls to bounce between his
thighs.

I never get up the entire afternoon. The light never touches my skin. I
don’t suck the monster cock the entire time, but I am nuzzled against
it. Admiring it. Studying it. I lightly trace the veins with my
fingertips. I sniff His balls and caress each wrinkle in His sack with the
tip of my nose. Hours and hours pass and my face is never more than six
inches away from His dick. The entire time, he never stops working. He
takes phone calls, and makes arrangements with the receptionist. I never
once stop admiring his monster dick.

Eventually, He lifts one leg and places his foot on my chest. He pushes me
away from his crotch. I’m confused, but I obey. His foot presses against my
chest then slides up. He pushes his foot in my face. I never thought about
it before, but his dick is even bigger than his feet. He rubs my face,
until I take hold of his heel and lick the entire length of his foot. The
skin is dry on the heel, soft and smooth in the arch and callused on the
ball. There is a faint odor at the toes. Then I take the big one in my
mouth. It’s thicker than I had ever imagined. My top lip slides over the
hairs on his toe. My cock is at full attention. I stick all five toes into
my mouth. Once again, I am completely enraptured in my duties and lose
complete track of time.

Suddenly, the day is over. He simply gets up and puts on his clothes. I do
the same, but stare at him with longing, trying to figure out my place
now. I am looking for any kind of command. Any sign of what I am supposed
to do now. He doesn’t say a word as he puts on his coat and walks out the
door. There is still no sign of a command as he locks the front door with
his mess of keys. I desperately stare at Him as he gets into his car and
drives away. Defeated, I start to wonder what am I supposed to do now? But
I hear the hum of his car’s engine brush beside me.

“Hole.” He says this, one syllable, like my friends call me when they
abbreviate my name.

“Yes, sir!” I don’t even try to hide my desperation, my need for him to
call my new name again.

He extends his arm out the window. “I’m going to be gone for a few weeks.”
He hands me a cell phone. It’s a shitty flip phone, though it looks brand
new. “Keep this on you at all times. Always be ready.”

***

It’s weird how life has turned back to normal. It’s been three weeks since
I’ve last served the fat man and I am now dressing normally, acing my
classes, cleaning up on the basketball court and jacking off five times a
day. I’ve even rubbed out a load or two in the gym shower while a few of my
teammates were still in the locker room, changing. I would never had
attempted this before I was baptized in cock. I think I hoped one of the
guys would walk in. I would have gladly accepted the ass kicking, or cock
sucking that followed.

Ok. So, maybe I’m not totally back to normal.

On the outside, I am back to normal. Fully-functioning. Social and
successful. On the inside, I am ravenous, absolutely cock-starved and there
is no end. For lack of a better word, I feel like a pervert. I’m constantly
gauging the crotch of every guy that I come across. I know they all have a
dick and I want to see it, taste it and feel it. My friends, my teammates,
me teachers. God damn it, I have even tried to get a sense of my dad’s
bulge once. I close my eyes, and I can see my own asshole, suffering, split
open wide with the fat man’s master cock sliding in and out. I feel the
need to constantly host something. I don’t care about size of the dick, or
looks of the man. I want my asshole filled.

But on the outside, I’m normal. I’m in class, raising my hand. I’m on the
court calling the shots. I’m at the mall with my friends, making fun of
faggots. Ironically, this is when the phone buzzes. I was laughing, in
mid-conversation, and the vibration still felt like a wakeup call. It felt
like a jolt from a deep sleep. I immediately jump as I yank it out of my
back pocket.

“home” The single word fills my head completely. I might as well be alone
because nothing else matters. I must have a smile, or a look of terror,
frozen on my face. The entire gang is looking at me, anticipating an
explanation.

“I … I gotta …” the phone buzzes again in my hand and I immediately
cast down my eyes to read the new message, “go.”

This time, I hold my breath. I stare into the phone’s screen as if I were
trying to translate a foreign language.

“food court mens room”

What the fuck?

“Dude, you okay?” I don’t even know who asked this.

I have no answer for anything. I have my command. I know where I’m supposed
to be. That is all that matters.

“I gotta go.”

They ask me what’s up. They look concerned. I tell them I’m ok. But I have
to go, and I walk away from my friends. As soon as I turn the corner, I
start running. The mall is crowded so I have to weave through people,
children. Luckily, I’m wearing jeans because my cock is raging and my
zipper is barely containing my pulsating boner. I have no idea what to
expect.

The men’s room is empty. I am disappointed, confused and scared that I
might have misunderstood his command. I walk past the row of urinals and
toward the two toilet stalls. The first has no door, it’s obviously
empty. The second, the handicap stall, has a door that is shut. I push
against it. It’s locked. It doesn’t even occur to me that someone is in
there, actually taking a shit.

“Sir? It’s me. I’m ready to go Home, sir.” I push against the door
again. “Please, sir. Let me go home. Please, sir.”

The door unlatches and swings open. It’s Him. He is sitting on the toilet,
his pants bunched around his ankles. He is stroking the giant cock. My legs
tremble at the site of it. I lock the door behind me and strip, throwing my
clothes behind the toilet. Completely naked, I kneel and go Home,
immediately wrapping my lips around His giant dick. It’s as if He had never
left and I have always been here, where I belong. I push my face as deep as
I can, gagging, coughing and choking on the thick head as it tries to
spread my throat wide open. I don’t care, I just want it inside me. I suck
his balls, though he makes no effort to move to give me easier access, so
my chin rubs directly against the porcelain of the dirty toilet rim. I dig
deeper and extend my tongue as far as I can to reach his taint. I can’t
tell if it’s His ass or the toilet, but it reeks like shit. I push my face
into his massive body even harder.

He pulls me off his crotch. With the delicacy of a folding chair, He turns
me around and bends me over. He pushes down my head as far as he can reach,
then He places his hand on my back and pushes me even further until the
palms of my hands are lying flat on the filthy floor. My legs are still
extended straight, so my butt cheeks are pulled tight in both directions
and my asshole is the highest point of my body.

He pushes into me. Unlike before, He doesn’t take any time to let me get
used to His giant cock. My head is spinning from the blood rushing to my
head, and the pain makes everything flash white. I stifle a scream, which
instead comes out as a sob. With my asshole pointed straight toward the
ceiling, my hands and feet planted firmly on the floor, and completely
naked in the toilet stall of the men’s room in the mall, I cry like a baby
as the ugly fat man fucks me.

As if on cue, the bathroom door squeals open. Someone pushes against the
stall door. The man doesn’t slow his fuck rhythm. In my current position,
the only contact between Him and myself is His dick sliding in my ass. So
there is almost no noise whatsoever except for my whimpering and the light
sound of my asshole slurping on his cock. Luckily, the music blaring on the
PA system is hiding that part, while I stifle my agony the best I can.

In my peripheral vision, I see a pair of shoes as the guy who came into the
bathroom stands at the adjacent toilet. I pray that the shoes don’t point
away from the toilet. Please, please, just piss, dude. Just as his piss
stream starts, the bathroom door opens again. There are voices, young
voices and my heart—which is already beating with rage—freezes as I
try to determine if they’re from the team. My adrenaline is boiling. I
can’t even gather my thoughts long enough to listen to what they are
saying. It’s all just muffled voices. And He keeps fucking me. I hear them
piss in the urinals, and He is sliding out of my hole. The man in the next
stall flushes and He is sliding back in. The guys at the urinal laugh and
He slides out. I let out whimpers and deep sighs. There are tears welling
and pooling over my eyes. I can’t even see anymore. My nose is filling with
snot making it hard to breath, and He keeps fucking me.

The door swings open and I relish the thought of everyone clearing out of
the bathroom finally. I think they did, but I’m not sure because I’m
alarmed to hear new voices. This time it’s a child. From under the toilet
stall partition, I see tiny feet in tiny flip-flops accompanied by bigger
adult feet in running shoes. They both walk to the toilet stall door and I
hear them push against it. The man doesn’t slow down, and in this position,
with this intensity, I could swear his giant dick is splitting me in two.

“Somebody’s in there, daddy.” The child’s father answers in the overly
friendly parental voice reserved for small children.

Thankfully, both sets of feet walk to the next stall where the father lifts
the boy on the toilet. I tilt my head and bite into my shoulder to help
stifle my cries. My heavy breathing through the snot and built up saliva
creates a very audible rhythm.

“What’s that noise, daddy?”

“I don’t know, buddy.”

I am trying with every bit of strength I can muster to not sound like I am
being penetrated to my extreme limit in my asshole. The father definitely
knows something is happening in here, but I am not sure if he can tell
exactly what is going on. I hope he thinks someone is in here crying, or
expelling some kind of explosive diarrhea. Whatever, just please, please,
please leave now.

“Come on, buddy. Let’s hurry it up.”

He does. The toilet flushes and the sink runs. When I hear the hand dryer
engage, I use the opportunity to release a whimper.

The bathroom is finally clear. The Man takes this opportunity and starts
pounding my hole with his full weight, finally creating a rhythmic clapping
between his balls and my butt cheeks. I want to scream, but instead
continue to cry and sob. He pulls out and sits back on the
toilet. Immediately, I spin around and open wide, taking his cock in my
mouth. My face is still clouded with snot and tears, but I suck as hard and
steady as I can muster. He grabs the back of my head and pushes me down
deep on His cock and I feel the hot splash in my throat. I choke but he
doesn’t let me go until my throat is coated in his semen. I suck even
harder as I lift my mouth off his cock, milking every drop I can out of the
dick. I swallow all of it immediately. Then I kiss the cockhead in
gratitude.

He pushes me away to make room as grabs his pants and pulls them up.

“You spend a lot of time at the school,” he says, his voice completely
unfazed.

Oh shit. The phone. The phone that he gave to me. He must have a GPS
feature engaged, which is how he found me here at the mall.

I am kneeling, naked, on the dirty tiled floor of a men’s room. My asshole
is gaping, wet and cold. I’ve been lying to the man about my age. And now,
in the face of coming clean I realize that I could jeopardize the only
refuge I have. I can’t lose it. I can’t not be fucked by that magnificent
probe again.

“I work there,” I lie. “I work in the library.”

The man is barrel chested, from this angle on the floor, I can see under
the bottom of his shirt his hairy belly extend over his jeans. The gap in
His teeth is more pronounced as is that ridiculous mustache. He looks at me
skeptically. I can’t tell if he is buying my lie.

“Don’t lose that phone.”

He walks out, leaving the toilet stall door wide open. I lock it and sit
back on the toilet to jerk off. It doesn’t take long, I lay back and feel
the cold metal of the pipes of the flushing mechanism dig into my back and
extend my legs fully until my toes are pointed straight out. I cum a geyser
that I point toward the wall next to me. My semen splashes the yellow tiles
and drips toward the floor.

I briefly consider licking my seed off the walls. Instead, I choose to
leave it, in hopes someone recognizes my accomplishment here. I walk out
wishing I could wear my stretched asshole like a badge so everyone can see
where I belong in this world.

Date: Wed, 20 Mar 2013 00:32:28 -0600
From: Jay Dee <juliet.delta88 (at) gmail (dot) com>
Subject: Home Part 6

Disclaimer: I own all the rights to this original work and give license to
the Nifty archive. Copyright 2013. All characters are fictional, any
coincidences to living people are entirely coincidental.

If you haven’t already, please consider donating to Nifty, this is a
wonderful project. Comments, critiques: juliet.delta88 (at) gmail (dot) com.
-thanks

***

Home Part Six

The day after He fucked me in the men’s room at the mall, the man called me
Home in His office at 8 a.m. School started shortly after that but this
time, there was no internal debate. I knew where I belonged, so I went to
Him. I arrive before His receptionist, a minor blessing. Once in His
office, I strip and approach Him humbly. He is sitting at his desk, fully
clothed again in a suit. He barely looks toward my direction, before He
rolls back his desk chair, opening up my entrance Home. I crawl
underneath. Since the last time I was here, He had installed a stainless
steel D-ring on the back panel under the desk, the curve of the ring was
heavy-duty thick and glistened even in the darkness. Attached to the ring
is a leash about four-feet-long and punctuated by a thin leather collar.

My body freezes when I see the leash hanging under the desk as I
contemplate what is going on. It’s obvious, but I need the pause because my
body is trying to tell me to run. I can leave. I can be dressed in a few
seconds and still make it to school on time. But my dick is rock hard. My
heart is pounding against my breast plate.

“Welcome Home,” he says, cheerfully.

I put the collar around my neck. It’s thick, dark leather and cold against
my skin. He reaches over and fastens the buckle. The collar is secure but
he keeps fiddling with the mechanism until I hear an unmistakable click. I
reach up to finger the small padlock that is threaded through a latch in
the collar. I am locked here.

I miss the entire day of school and instead spend it naked, under His desk,
nuzzling my face in His exposed crotch, worshiping his dry, smelly feet. He
never acknowledges me outside of pushing His feet in my face, notifying me
that it’s time to clean them with my tongue. At other times, He grabs me by
the hair and pulls me into his crotch until I take His massive cock into my
mouth. But for most of the morning, I simply adore His cock and balls. I
touch it, sniff it, lick it. It is at the center of all my attention every
second.

It must be lunchtime, He gets dressed and leaves without saying a word. I
stare up at Him hopefully but He flips the light switch and walks out,
leaving me alone, locked under the desk. His office has large windows but
they are covered with huge vertical blinds. Only a few rays of light
sparkle into the room and bounce off the white walls, otherwise I am in
total darkness. Despite being naked for hours, I grab my cock for the first
time since I got here as if it could provide me company, and I wait.

I don’t know how much time has passed, but I am sure it is at least a
couple of hours. Even if I was not lying naked on a bare floor, the
darkness makes me feel all the more lonely and useless. I never let go of
my cock once, holding it in hopes it will make me feel more
human. Suddenly, the door swings open and the room is suddenly saturated in
light. My heart is racing and it’s like my entire soul brightens with
hope. I can’t see anything but the back wall so I remain silent, just in
case. Then I hear the unmistakable chime of His belt buckle swinging
open. My breath comes heavy as I anticipate the whisper of his pants
sliding off his fat, hairy legs.

Then they appear in front of the desk, pale legs covered in coarse, dark
hairs. His master cock swings between both legs like a serpentine
pendulum. My cock jumps and I reflexively lick my lips. He sits and pulls
his chair to the desk. As usual, he says nothing. But he does place a
bottle of water on the floor next to the desk. I drink it all in a few deep
swallows and divert my attention where it belongs.

“Oh, sir,” I whisper as I see Home before me. I open my mouth and taste My
Master. I suck His cock as a means to express my gratitude for His mere
presence. He makes a phone call. He taps the computer keyboard. My space is
cramped and I have to tilt my head at a severe angle so I can fully slide
his massive cock through my lips. I am so happy that he is here that I
don’t stop sucking. I think an hour passes and I have no intention of
taking my mouth off the monster dick.

His phone buzzes, he answers and quickly says, “Let them in.” The door
swings open and I loosen my mouth’s grip. Just as I start to pull back, He
grabs the back of my head and pulls me on His cock. I know my place, so I
continue sucking.

“Hey, man!”

There is another man entering the room. The fat man greets back, “Hey
guys.” Shit, there’s more than one man here.

I am immediately terrified because there is no way they won’t notice the
naked teenager under the table sucking the Man’s cock. But I have
commands. The Man explains to His guests that he just got back into town a
couple of days ago. His wife is fine. His kids are fine. Together, they
banter for about five minutes. The conversation is peppered with loud,
thundering laughter, enough to make His balls bounce between his legs. One
of His guests belches loudly. Finally, the men say they have to go. One has
to pick up his wife, the other says he has to get to the gym. They both
confirm with Him that they are still on for the next weekend. The fat man
confirms.

The men talk more shit as they get up to leave. My cock is even harder than
the fat man and leaking pre-cum. Finally the men leave. As soon as the door
closes, the fat man pulls Himself out from the desk and unlocks my collar
from the leash. He pulls me by the collar and bends me over the desk. With
the tenderness of a machine, he slides into my asshole and starts fucking
with a furious rhythm. My asshole is still tremendously sore from the
fucking he gave me in the mall men’s room yesterday. I know the
receptionist is behind the door so I once again try to stifle the screams
that are building up in my chest. Instead, I bite down on my forearm and
sob with high-pitched whimpers. He comes within minutes, shooting a needle
of semen into my guts and pumps more and more inside of me. I am
simultaneously glad, but regretful that this is the shortest fuck session
we’ve ever had.

He pulls out immediately and without saying a word, grabs my collar and
shoves me to my knees.

“Clean my dick,” he says pulling me on the monster cock. I don’t hesitate
and relish sucking on the massive tool. As I’m going down on Him, He then
locks my collar to the leash once again.

“Feed yourself,” He says as He sits back and goes back to work. I am
initially confused by His command until I notice my wet asshole and I
remember his strict rule: His semen is not allowed to waste away and die in
my asshole. It must be swallowed and digested into my body. Laying on my
back on the bare floor and locked under His desk, I rub my asshole with my
fingers as I squeeze out a load onto my fingertips before licking it off
eagerly, like a child tasting honey. I insert my finger and when I pull it
out, it unleashes a spurt of semen that I gather to eat. I moan with each
taste of the salty, acrid semen.

While he was fucking me, I noticed the clock on the wall. It’s 3:45. School
ended 45 minutes ago. On any other day, I would be stretching out,
preparing for basketball practice which starts at 4. Today, I lie back and
take one of His feet into my mouth.

***

Today is Friday. I am fully dressed. The fat man is letting me go to school
today. I told him yesterday, as he unlocked my collar, that I couldn’t miss
much more “work.” He made me beg before He said I could have the day. He
even said He would try to give me most of my days, although He made no
promises. He did have a condition, though. And as soon as I got home, even
before I took a shower, I asked my mom if I could stay at a friend’s house
this weekend. Standing there, in the kitchen, I could still taste in my
mouth the cum I ate from my own asshole an hour ago when I talked to her.

I felt a pang of guilt when she immediately agreed. She trusted me so
deeply. She had no idea that her high school basketball star son has turned
into a groveling cock slave. She probably thought that smell that emanated
from my body was from a heavy workout at basketball practice and not from
spending the day being locked up, sucking dick, licking feet and getting
assfucked. Who knows what was going to happen over this weekend.

I pack a bag with only one change of clothes, the clothes I’ll be wearing
when I come home on Sunday. On campus, I am reluctant to approach my
friends. I left them in such a hurry and with no explanation the other day
when I got the call to go Home at the mall. They haven’t seen me
since. When I do catch up with them, I explain dismissively that everything
is ok. I tell them that I just had to take care of some things. I don’t
think they believe me. But they know I won’t say much else and so, for now,
they leave it be.

It’s a normal school day except for my raging boner that haunts me almost
nonstop. I have to wear a cup and jock strap in practice to help keep it
contained. I have to take some shit from coach for missing practice
yesterday. He warns me that the season starts with our first game in two
weeks and blah blah, discipline, blah blah, teamwork … all I can do is
nod my head while I try like hell to picture his hairy nut sack swinging
between his thighs.

I get to His hotel immediately after practice. He gave me a key yesterday,
so I go right inside and strip, as per His commands. Naked, in the dark
room, I climb into bed. He said I’d know what to do, and sure enough, there
is a leach with a collar lying over the pillows. The leash leads behind the
head of the mattress and under the headboard where I assume it is attached
to another D-ring or a bedpost leg. I fasten the collar around my neck and
hesitate for a couple of contemplative minutes before I click the
padlock. The lock sounds heavy and permanent.

My dick is rock fucking hard. Partly because of His cold sheets against my
body. But mostly it’s because of the anticipation of what is in store. I
slowly stroke my dick, moving the thick foreskin over the head. A bead of
precum develops from the tip and I sweep it with my fingertip before
licking it off. I have no idea what I’m supposed to do. Based on the days I
served Him at His office, I knew he gets off of work at about 5. I assumed
he would be back a little after that. But it’s now dark, several hours have
passed and there is no sign. So, I lie back, waiting for Him. I’m not
particularly tired, but in the complete darkness, I start to drift off
anyway.

I smell beer before anything else. I wake up again on my stomach,
crushed. I struggle to breath. The only air I do inhale is thick with beer
and His rotting breath. From behind me, He wraps an arm around my neck. I
feel the monster cock stab into my asshole, lubricated only with His vile
spit. He fucks me with a hard, fast, but sloppy rhythm. I manage to keep
composure for about 20 seconds before I start whimpering. After the first
minute I am openly sobbing, tears pooling on the pillow, at the pain that
is shooting from my asshole to every nerve in my body. For 30 minutes, He
fucks my ass with full velocity, creating a deep clapping fuck-rhythm in
the darkness. He never changes position, He never says a word. He just
masturbates with my asshole.

He unleashes a load into me. He stabs into me harder as the master cock
convulses, emptying His balls. Another deep stab. Then another. Finally, He
pulls out and rolls over onto His back. I’m restricted by the leash and
can’t reach Home. He makes no effort to move. Instead, I reach over His
huge round belly and grip the master cock with my fist and wipe it clean. I
clean off my ass sludge and cum off my hand with my tongue before cleaning
His cock again. He’s already asleep. I feed myself the load He left for me
in my asshole before falling asleep.

When I wake up again, there is daylight filtering into the room. There is
also a massive cock tracing my sleeping lips. My eyes are squinting tight
at the light even though it is eclipsed by His bulbous body. I open my
mouth as a reflex and He seizes the opening and shoves Himself into my
mouth. My morning eyes are barely opening and He is already fucking my face
with deep, slow strokes. His cock stinks and His balls are sweaty emitting
a thick musk that is spreading all over my chin. Unlike the late night fuck
session, He is groaning through each exhale. My mouth is stretched to the
limit with the corners of my lips straining each time he thrusts deep. I
can fit a little more than half of the gigantic organ into my mouth before
it stops at my throat. He pushes harder and harder with each thrust, trying
to open my throat completely.

“Fucking … take it …” He says through gasps. This goes on for a while,
at least half an hour, maybe even twice that. My throat is taking a beating
and it hurts more and more. I want this to stop, but I want His cock in my
mouth.

Finally, as if completely frustrated, He pulls out and grabs my leash,
pulling me to the side of the bed. He places me on my back with my head
hanging over the edge.

“You are going to learn to take this fucking cock.”

He shoves it into my mouth with a raping thrust. I choke but He doesn’t
relent. My throat is gurgling and my chest heaves as I try to force out a
cough that is stifled by His dick. I force myself to breathe through my
nose, and focus on my throat. I stretch my neck. It’s getting harder to
breath. He doesn’t release the pressure on my throat. I choke again, my
chest convulses for air. He keeps pressing the fat cockhead against my
tonsils. Finally, I give in, out of desperation—a fight or flight
response. I literally make a swallowing motion, like I am forcing down a
chunk of unchewed food into my throat. All of a sudden, He slides into my
face, His balls hang over my eyes. My nose breaths in nothing but musky
ballsweat.

“Yeeeeaaaah,” He says, imitating a horrible porn scene. “That’s a good
girl.”

He slaps my cheek lightly but, compounded with the lump literally in my
throat and what feels like an air bubble in my chest cavity, it echoes in
my skull.

“Now you have two fully-functioning pussies.”

He slides out completely and a load of saliva spills out following his
cockhead and covers my face. Then He slides back in until His balls bury my
nose. He starts slow, with these new deep thrusts, then picks up the pace,
eventually rough fucking my face, His balls slapping me with significant
force. The experience is new and frightening. It’s unpleasant, but
triumphant. I start to moan out of reflex. It’s hard to breath. There is
pain and it feels unnatural each time His cockhead wedges my throat open. I
don’t even realize that I am reaching around, grabbing His asscheeks,
trying to pull Him even deeper into my mouth.

Meanwhile, my cock is pulsating. With this new skill, I feel like I
belong. I am accomplished. I have a use. I am lost in sex. I have no idea
how much time has passed. I just know that I now have another hole to fully
serve Him. Then I feel the sharp spurt, warm and pungent, He shoots while
balls deep into my mouth. It makes me choke violently and I feel cum in the
back of my nose. He pushes deep into my head. His balls convulse over my
face pumping His seed where it belongs, inside of me.

He is finished. He pulls out of my mouth and I lie there, triumphant,
traumatized. He grabs one of my ankles and pulls my leg to the foot of the
bed, making room for Himself to lie back down. He unlocks my collar and is
asleep in minutes. I use this time to take a shit. I clean myself out in
the shower. Then I go Home on His sleeping, stinking body. He sleeps
throughout the morning, and I spend it buried in his crotch, mostly sucking
His dick. At one point, shortly after He fucked my mouth, he grasps my head
tight and pulls me onto his cock. In my mouth, there is a spasm of
heat. There is a taste, it’s flat, acrid and pungent. I choke and feel
fluid everywhere and when I cough it jolts into my nasal cavity and the
thick taste is everywhere, stinging my nose, my eyes and my throat. Holy
shit, it even feels like there is a sharp pain in my ears. It takes me this
long and this flood of senses to realize he is pissing in my
mouth. Reflexively, I try to pull off His cock but his grip tightens
aggressively. I choke again and it feels like the motion floods my entire
skull with piss. With no option left, I swallow deep, then again. I chug
His piss until He loosens His grip and His bladder is empty. The entire
experience was revolting, but appropriate. Now that I am back to aimlessly
sucking His dick, I know it was my duty to drink everything His body wants
to feed me. It was my pleasure.

He doesn’t let me take my mouth off His dick for the entire morning. It’s
flaccid the entire time. There is nothing sexual about this prolonged
blowjob. He keeps my mouth on His cock purely as a feeling of comfort.

Comfort for the both of us.

***

We spend the day like that. He is naked the entire time, even when he
orders and pays for food that afternoon. I am never outside the immediate
vicinity of His cock or His feet, even when he pays the delivery guy,
though I was kneeling behind the door. I’m not sure the delivery guy saw
the naked teenager, fixating on the fat, bald man’s gigantic swinging
dick. It doesn’t matter. He spends the rest of the day on the couch. The
television is on, but he spends most of the day on his phone. I spend it
kneeling in front of Him, sucking cock, licking balls and worshipping His
feet.

Through the edges of the curtain, I can see that the light outside is
dimming. He checks the time, 6:30. He sighs, before pushing me away from
His crotch and talks to the kitchen. I admit, His body is disgusting, there
is a thick, dark patch of hair on his lower back, just above his pale
flabby ass. His shoulders are also hairy, but I watch Him walk away
longingly, wanting a part of Him inside me.

About 20 minutes later, the room is lit with a slice of light from the
bathroom. I look for Him hopefully. He is thankfully still naked. He opens
the closet, and for a moment I fear He is going to get dressed, meaning He
is planning to leave. But He only pulls out the cumrag, His t-shirt that is
caked in dried semen. I smile, knowing that he has regularly used that as a
gag for me. He also has in His hand a bottle of lube that He places on the
bureau next to the bed. He climbs onto the bed, resting his back on the
headboard.

“Home.” He says this with a sinister grin. The word pours out of His mouth
almost unnaturally cheerful.

I rush Home. My face diving in between both of His fat thighs and I suck
His flaccid dick. He wraps the collar around my neck and I find security in
the sound of the lock clicking shut. It seems like an otherwise
unremarkable night. I knew how it would wind up: I would suck His cock
until He fucked me into the mattress. It is a routine, but one that I am
more than happy with. If my mouth weren’t filled with flaccid cockflesh, I
would have smiled.

What is not routine is my heartbeat, which suddenly thuds three successive
times, an abrupt and unpleasant rhythm. It’s loud and rattles against the
walls. Within a second, I realize this doesn’t make sense, it isn’t my
heartbeat. It’s worse. It’s the fucking door! Someone is knocking at the
door. I pull off of His dick reflexively to look at the door as it knocks
again, three quick beats. Suddenly it’s dark. It stinks. It’s stale
sperm. He has wrapped the cum rag of a t-shirt around the top of my head
above my nose and ties it on the back, at the base of my skull. I’m
blindfolded.

“It’s open.” He yells at the door, simultaneously pulling my face back to
His cock. My heart is beating a riot. Every muscle in my arms and legs is
tensed and shivering. The door opens and doesn’t immediately close. This is
a small room, whoever is at the door opened it to see a skinny naked
teenager on all fours hesitantly sucking the flaccid albeit gigantic cock
of a fat, bald, ugly man.

“Hi.” This new voice sounds sheepish, masculine and old. I try to picture
what he looks like, the curiosity is like torture. “I guess this is the
right place?”

“Yeah,” says the fat man. He slaps my back with his palm, a surprising and
firm jolt that makes me jump and whimper. “Come in. Check it out.”

The door closes. I hear the whisper of cautious footsteps on the
carpet. His cock starts to stiffen in my mouth. I suck even harder. There
is a cold hand on my back that makes me shiver with surprise. My cock jumps
from completely soft, hanging low between my legs, to rockhard digging into
my flat stomach.

“Beautiful,” the new man whispers. “Just like your ad said.”

The cold hand caresses my back, around the lean sides of my stomach and
grabs my dick. I let out a slow whimper at the sensation. I feel another
hand on my ass, first caressing a butt cheek, then soft fingers tracing my
ass crack, down my taint and finally cupping my balls. I can’t see him, but
someone is jacking me off with one hand and lovingly cupping my balls the
other. I realize now, that despite all the sex I have had in the past few
weeks, this is the first time anyone, other than myself, has touched my
cock. My body jumps again when I first feel beard stubble on my butt cheeks
then a tongue on my asshole, another first. Sucking the fat man’s dick, I
exhale through my nose a loud moan.

“You better get to it,” the fat man says. I feel His body shift toward the
side of the bed, then it shifts again, suddenly forward. I imagine that he
reached for the lube on the bureau and tossed it to whomever it was that
had his face buried in my butt. “There were a quite few people who answered
the ad.

“You’re just the first.”

 

Date: Fri, 7 Jun 2013 01:19:22 -0600
From: Jay Dee <juliet.delta88 (at) gmail (dot) com>
Subject: Home Part 7

Disclaimer: I own all the rights to this original work and give license to
the Nifty archive. Copyright 2013. All characters are fictional, any
coincidences to living people are entirely coincidental.

If you haven’t already, please consider donating to Nifty, this is a
wonderful project. Comments, critiques: juliet.delta88 (at) gmail (dot)
com. -thanks

***

Home – Part 7

Growing up, I had dreams about my first kiss. I knew early in life that I
wasn’t interested in girls. So I’d dream about guys. As a child, I wanted
to kiss them on the cheek. Then my dreams advanced to include kissing boys
on the mouth, soft pecks of puckered lips ending with a quick smacking
sound at the end. At 13, I wanted something messy – wet, open mouth
kisses. As I got older, my dreams of kissing only became more
elaborate. I’d imagine the smelly breath against mine, running my hands
over bony shoulders and embracing a slim, warm body next to
mine. Eventually, my dreams evolved to include coarse beard stubble
scratching my face and my neck. And this time we are shirtless, giving me a
chance to relish the sensation of my nipples grazing against his, my smooth
lean stomach against his.

I am not that guy. I don’t get those moments.

***

Cockslave training i have a true cockslave. a beautiful twink who can’t get
enough of my 12 incher. looking for other tops to help train him. smooth
lean with a sweet pussy that can’t get enough. i’ll blindfold her, you come
into the room and find him naked, pussy up, fill her up and leave. rougher
the better. strictly tops only. looks don’t matter, she won’t ever see you
anyway. just be hard and ready. message for address.

***

“FUCK, your tight pussy feels fucking sweet with all that hot cum up
there.” It’s a masculine whisper, sharp and spitting into the side of my
face. I can feel thick, coarse hair on my neck, cheek and ear. This guy has
a bushy beard. He just slid his cock into my asshole. He’s the third man to
fuck me since I’ve been blindfolded and leashed to this bed this
evening. And although it’s been less than a minute, I can feel his body is
soaked in sweat as he leans to whisper into my ear. His thick chest and
stomach hair is drenched against my lean back. With two loads of cock juice
inside my ass already, the hairy man didn’t even need lube. He just slid
right inside. I strain to arch my back just a little more, hoping to
swallow more cock into me.

I’ve been tethered to this bed for about 30 minutes, it seems. There is a
putrid, stained and stiff cum rag of a t-shirt tied around the top of my
head, just over the nose. I am completely naked, except for the leather
collar around my neck and attached to the leash, and bent over on all
fours. Men have been coming in and fucking my ass. The entire time, I am
sucking the massive cock of the fat bald man, almost nonstop. I’ve only
taken my mouth off of His cock a couple of times to let out moans of pain
and excitement from the nonstop assfucking.

The first man jerked my hard dick and ate out my asshole for a few minutes
before the fat man ordered him to fuck me or leave. He lubed up and pushed
into my butt his thin but long dick. It hurt with a piercing pressure that
was nothing like when the fat man stretches my hole to its limit. He pushed
into me with a soft, unfulfilling rhythm. I timed his thrusts and push back
my butt at the right moments to intensify the fuck.

“Fuck’im,” the fat man said. His words were harsh, enunciating sharply the
consonant. He grabbed a fistful of my hair and pushed my face into his fat
belly, His cock stretching into my throat and held me there. “Fuck her
pussy.”

I gagged hard, a genuine choke that convulsed my entire body right through
my asshole. The man fucking me let out an extra moan and finally picked up
his fuck rhythm on his own.

There was a knock at the door. My heart, which was already raging a ragged
beat sped up even more. I’ve never fainted before, but I felt like I came
close at this point. There was too much going on, too many sensations and
this added adrenaline almost pushed me over the edge.

“Come in,” the fat man yelled, making his cock jump in my mouth. I didn’t
hear the door open, but I did hear it shut. “Holy shit,” the new voice was
soft, just above a whisper.

“Hey, have a seat, this guy is almost finished,” the fat man said. “Right
guy?”

As if on cue, the man fucking me leaned over, he was still wearing a shirt,
I could feel the fabric and row of buttons on my back. I felt warm, deep
breaths on my neck. “You’re such a sweet … young thing,” he whispered in
my ear before wrapping his arms around my chest. He squeezed me so hard, I
temporarily lost my breath. Then all I heard was his desperate grunting and
his skin slapping against my butt cheeks. He squeezed harder and his dick
thrusts became more firm. I moaned a deep, guttural sound that was almost
stifled by the mouthful of cock. Then it came, first his deep exhale,
blowing his bad breath over my face and a final push of his cock into my
ass that shot the hot razor of cum into my body. He stayed there, as deep
inside of me as possible, and I pushed out my pussy as much as I could
feeling his cock convulse and pump.

“That’s a sweet hole,” the man said, his voice now full and nonchalant. He
pulled out and I immediately hear the clanging of his belt then the door
shutting. I feel incomplete, almost inhuman, empty and lonely. My asshole
is cold, gaping and unprotected. For a few seconds, the only sound in the
room is my mouth slurping on the fat man’s cock. Then I heard the
unmistakable sound of a zipper. The second man wasted no time. The bottle
of lube clicked open and the liquid lightly farted coming out of the
bottle. The anticipation was murder. I couldn’t wait to feel what type of
dick was coming into me. I didn’t care. I wanted it, I needed it inside me.

God, please hurry.

There was one hand on my waist. Then the other swept across my back, the
second man was wiping off the lube from his hand on my back. He grabbed my
hips with both hands and suddenly my eyes teared up. I coughed out the fat
man’s monster dick and let out a reflexive scream. The second man thrust
into me with such force, I lost complete control. My arms and knees went
completely limp, I almost crumble onto the fat man. Behind me, the second
man was punishing my butt with jackhammer thrusts. I couldn’t even gauge
his cock size, it was all just pain. I hated myself, but I couldn’t help
squealing high-pitched moans that sound like one of those sluts in straight
porn scenes. I took too long adjusting to the pain. The fat man grabbed my
hair and forced me back Home, where I belong.

The door knocked again. The fat man called out and I hear two new voices,
they’re laughing.

“What the fuck?” said one, still laughing. The other voice, also laughing,
was louder, right beside us. “You weren’t kidding. This is a total fucking
cock faggot!” There was a slap on my back that genuinely startled me, but
the fat man was still holding my head so I couldn’t jump up.

“Jesus,” he said, I assumed to the man behind me. “You’re really giving it
to him.”

“Get the fuck outta here,” the first words from the man fucking me were
harsh and flustered. The fat man told the new guys to have a seat on the
couch. The man behind me kept fucking me with fury. His sweat started
dripping on my back. His balls were hung low and slapped against my own,
the sensation was amazing. All I could hear was my mouth on the master cock
and the thunderous clapping of the man fucking me.

Then he stopped and pulled out. My heart skipped a beat because I thought
it was over. Then the sound of his belt, his pants button, then the
panicked brushing of denim. He was taking off his pants. Holy shit. I
couldn’t wait. The bed shifted, first on my right side, then the left. The
man behind me was standing on the bed. Then I heard a small, familiar
crack, it was his knees. Then, fuck: The man pushed into me the hardest,
harshest and meanest fuck thrust I had ever felt. Reflexively, my body
bucked forward but that only forced the fat man’s gigantic cock deeper down
my throat. The man behind me was pile driving his dick into my butt. All of
a sudden, his cock weighed a ton and split my cheeks wide open like a
sledge hammer.

I tried to hold it, but the faggot squeals escaped my mouth pussy again and
the guys on the couch burst into hysterical laughter. One of the guys
mocked my squealing and punctuated it with, “Take the dick, faggot and shut
the fuck up.” But I couldn’t, the man was fucking me with such force and
weight. Once again, it felt like I could faint. The fat man laughed a deep
belly laugh. Then from behind me, rough grunting that intensified
quickly. I didn’t think it was possible, but he fucked me even harder, then
he shot a load inside me. His thrust paused as his dick pumped his seed
into me, then he pulled out and slammed into me again, making me
cry. Another one. And another. “Fucking!” Another. “WHORE!” And then it
became clear he was stabbing into me with fury deliberately.

He pulled out of me quickly and pushed my ass forward, forcing my body into
the fat man and his cock deep into my throat. Then I heard a tinny sound,
and a shot of moisture on my back. He spit on me. The fat man, and the guys
on the couch all laughed hard. “Jesus. This kid is fucked,” one of them
said.

I could hear the second man putting back on his pants when one of the men
from the couch walked over. “I think this is the kind of shit this kid
wants,” he said. His voice sounded lively, and harsh. I imagined him to be
in his 30s. “Is that right, pretty boy? You want to be a cum rag for real
men, like us? Don’t you?” His shirt whispered across his chest as he
removed it. Then a loud, solid slap on my ass that brought tears to my
eyes. “Don’t you?” The fat man chuckled.

With a mouthful of cock, I agree, emphatically. “Jesus Christ, kid. You
couldn’t even take that giant cock out of your mouth for a second to answer
me properly, could you?” Then other guy came walking over,
laughing. Another hard slap on my ass. “Someone has to fucking teach you
how to respond when a man asks you a question.”

The fat man laughed again before saying, “Well, hole. Answer the man.”

For the first time in what seemed like forever, I take my mouth off the
master cock. “Yes, sir. I can’t bear living without cock.” I have never
before used the word, “bear” in that context. It was a sentence I didn’t
formulate in my brain. It just came out of my mouth naturally,
instinctively.

All three men laughed loud. My head started spinning again. As if it would
hide me from the shame, I started sucking His giant cock, causing the men
to laugh even harder.

“You were serious, this cock slave can’t get enough.” The fat man affirmed
almost with pride in his voice. “Is that her name? `Hole?'”

“I don’t know, I call her just about anything: `Hole,’ `Pussy,’ `Girl,’ the
fat man said. “Don’t matter.”

Someone grabbed my waist. “That is a sloppy hole.” At first I thought it
was a finger tracing my asscrack, but there was no flexibility. It was
pure, hard cock. “You are leaking cum everywhere, dump.” I could feel the
cooling semen dripping down my buttcrack and could tell the man was using
his cock to scoop up whatever of the precious fluid that he could. “That’s
what I’m going to call her, `Dump.’ As in cumdump.” The men laughed at me
again. Then he slid into me.

“FUCK, your tight pussy feels fucking sweet with all that hot cum up
there.” His body is warm, really warm. There is a deep and sharp body odor
that fills my head and my cock. It makes me wonder if his sweat-drenched
body hair is the result of a recent workout. He leans over and his beard
brushes against my face, it drives me crazy.

“Dump, you have a pretty pussy. But it’s stretched the fuck out. You need
to learn how to please me better.”

The fat man laughs and lets go of my hair. I pull off His cock, “Yes, sir.”

His cock isn’t huge. It’s quite average. But he fucks with energy. He slams
into my butt and holds the position.

“Squeeze your pussy, Dump.”

“Sir?”

He pulls my hair, craning my neck at a sharp angle. “You have this nice
muscular ass. You see these cunt flaps?” With his free hand he slaps one of
my buttcheeks. There is a sliver of hatred flash boiling deep inside
me. `Cunt flaps’ was such a demeaning term. But he didn’t care. “Their only
purpose is to make men like me feel good. Understand?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Good. Now squeeze your pussy around my dick.” I do as I’m told. His pubic
hair is pressed right against my asscheeks, which I squeeze tight. It
doesn’t feel quite right. So squeeze deeper, inside my hole and it makes
sense. It’s as if I can grip onto his cock with my hole.

The bearded man lets out a deep exhale, which I take as a good sign. “Nice,
Dump,” he whispers into my ear. Now let go and do it again. I obey.

“Again.”

“Again.”

I catch on to the rhythm. Without being told, I massage his cock from
inside my body. It takes work, and I can feel whatever muscles I am using
are already growing weary. But it’s euphoric. It’s as if I am proving to
myself that my body is truly meant to host and serve cock.

“Now you’re not so useless, are you, Dump?”

“No, sir.”

“I’m going to fuck you now. Your job is to take my cock as deep as
possible. When you feel my balls slap against your pussyflaps, you squeeze
as hard as you can, as I pull out. Squeeze as if you don’t want my dick to
leave your cunt, because you don’t, do you?”

“No, sir. Never.”

He started fucking me and I did as I was told, squeezing his cock as he
thrusted out of me. It was exhilarating but exhausting. But he was right, I
didn’t want his cock to leave my hole. It was my duty to prove that I
wanted it inside me. This also took concentration, as I had to make sure I
squeezed the right muscles and that I squeezed hard enough to show the cock
the proper respect. I didn’t realize that I had overlooked my cocksucking
duty.

There was a harsh and sharp tug of my hair. “Hey, Dump! There is a cock in
front of you that is unattended!” He pushed my head onto the master dick
and I suck as commanded. “Jesus. Even as a faggot you are fucking useless,
Dump.”

It takes a few minutes, but I eventually get the rhythm, sucking the giant
dick, sticking my ass out as far as my hole can extend and squeezing my
pussyhole at the right moments to properly serve the bearded man. He pounds
me harder and I have trouble tightening my pussy in time. “Don’t get lazy
on me, Dump.”

I am in pain. I am confused, exhausted and even scared. It’s heaven.

The third man, who has been silent through this ordeal, snickers and I
immediately realize something is happening. That’s when I sense something
new. My head is filled with a sharp, organic but sour and rotten scent. I
have no idea what it is. Then there is a heavy pressure on my head, pushing
me down onto the fat man’s cock. It’s a foot. It’s the bearded man’s foul,
sweaty foot. I can’t even imagine how he looks, fucking my ass with one leg
protruding over my body, pushing down my head. Even the fat man
reacts. “What the hell, dude?,” he said with a forced chuckle. “That is
rank.”

“You like that, Dump?” the bearded man says. “Can you smell my stink? We’ve
been playing soccer for hours before coming over here. Like real men, we
are drenched in sweat and stink.”

He rubs his toes into my hair with a sloppy rhythm but the stink is
there. I gag, partly because of the monster cock that is forced into my
throat, partly because the stink of the bearded man’s foot is overpowering.

A knock at the door.

“Fuck, yes,” the bearded man says. “Come in!” The fat man doesn’t seem to
mind that the bearded man has all but taken over. His cock is hard,
though. He must be enjoying watching the men own me.

“Hey,” the bearded man says to the new guy. “Shut the door and get in on
this.”

He pulls out and I am relieved I can rest my pussy muscles, but immediately
lonely, empty and sloppy.

Throughout the evening, the bearded man and his friend never leave and the
fat man never makes them. In fact, he rarely makes a sound outside of
laughing when they make fun of me. The men come trickling in. To be honest,
I lost count of how many men fucked me. The fourth guy was old, I could
hear the wheeze in his breathing as he fucked me. His cock was not as hard
as I would have liked, but the bearded man ordered me to serve and I
appropriately massage the dick with my pussy. There was another guy who
blew his load immediately after his cock entered my pussy. “That’s ok,
dude,” the bearded man said. “It happens to the best of us.” The bearded
man reassured that guy, which I found ironic considering his hostility
toward me. There was even a massively obese man who, when he fucked me, my
lean frame pushed back loads of his body fat. I felt as if I were buried
under mounds of sweaty flesh. The bearded man encouraged the obese man as
he pounded into me. During gaps, while we waited for the next man to show
up, the bearded man would fuck me, making sure my pussy didn’t lose its
grip.

He notes that it was 11 p.m. With his dick buried inside of my pussy, he
asks the third man to hand over his phone. The bearded man dials a number,
never losing his fuck rhythm.

“Hey baby,” he says, thrusting into me with rigorous speed. “No. We’re
still scrimmaging. I know. It’s late. Sorry, babe, I should have called
sooner. But they don’t shut down the park until midnight, so we thought
we’d take advantage.” His breathing is labored, but his voice is
surprisingly solid. “I’m gonna go out with the guys afterward. Maybe get
drunk or something. Nah. We ate a little between games. I’ll grab some
appetizers or something.” He leans forward and wraps an arm around my
neck. Slowly, he starts to squeeze. The other two men try to stifle their
laughter, but I can still hear them. “Tell the kids I love them.” I can
hear the woman’s voice from the phone, but my blood is rushing and I can’t
make out the words. I stifle a choked cough. The bearded man squeezed my
neck even harder and lightly whispers into my ear, “Not a fucking sound,
Dump.” Then he focuses back to the phone without losing a breath. “I love
you too, baby.”

The flip phone clicks shut and he tosses it on the floor before focusing on
his grip around my neck. “That’s why men like us need faggots, Dump.” He
thrusts into my pussy harder, meaner. “I love my wife. I respect my wife.”
I gag deep. My heart, fueled by pure adrenaline, pounds furiously. “I make
love to my wife.” His arm closes in on my neck. My head, spinning. I could
feel another cough coming, but I know that another jolt to my body would
definitely knock me out. “I don’t give a shit about you, Dump. And
sometimes, men don’t want to make love. We want to fuck and dump cum. You
are nothing to us men except a hole for our semen. That’s all we want from
you. And your job is to obey. Got it?”

He is full force choking me at this point. My face is hot, all the blood is
flooding my head. I can feel my face contorted in a smear. I did my best to
answer, and barely managed to nod my head.

“Good,” the bearded man said and released his grip, pushing me into the fat
man’s body. The other two men laugh uncomfortably as I cough and try to my
breath leaning my head in the fat man’s stomach. It’s only now that I
realize the bearded man came inside my pussy as he was choking me.

“I do believe you have yourself a trained cockslave,” the bearded man said
after he pulled out of my pussy.

The fat man laughed. “Thanks, man. I think he’s ready for next weekend.” I
was still on all fours recovering from being choked. My asshole was empty,
and leaking semen from at least half a dozen men. But my mind immediately
caught on to the mention of the weekend. Then it hit me. These voices,
these are the guys who came into the fat man’s office the other day as I
sucked His dick under His desk. They weren’t strangers. That’s why He let
them stay all night.

“I’m gonna take a shower,” the bearded man said. “You coming with us to the
bar?”

The fat man said he would, but needed to “dump” a load, which made the
bearded man laugh.

The bathroom door shut. The shower sprays.

“You didn’t get a shot,” the fat man says. I almost stop sucking cock to
ask him what he means before I remember there was one more guy in the
room. “You want a fuck?”

The third man has been silent all night and he remains so as he takes me
from behind. I am exhausted, even traumatized. I doubt my ability to take
another fucking. But, he is a man. He needs me.

I feel callused hands run over my back, a harsh caress. It’s almost as if
he were trying to dig into my skin with the palms of his hands. He
stretches the skin of my back and guides his hands over my ribs and my firm
stomach. Suddenly, he lets out a guttural growl. It’s almost a snarl,
predatory and alarming. He lets out another one, as he explores my skin, an
animalistic grunt. My adrenaline starts boiling again when I feel pressure
on my pussy. It’s thick. I can feel that my cunt is worn out, it’s
stretched, gaping. I can’t even squeeze it hard enough to keep the semen
inside from gushing out. But his cock is thick. Holy shit, it must be as
thick as a soda can. He grunts again and I can feel the deep vibrations it
makes in his cock head as it presses against my pussy. Oh fuck.

“OH FUCK!” I scream as he grabs my hips and hammers into me one thrust. He
is not as long as the fat man, not anywhere near. I don’t even think his is
as long as my own dick. But his cock is definitely thicker, oh my god it is
thicker. I feel less like a man, less like a faggot. I feel like a hand
puppet, controlled completely by this fat dick. It’s so thick, I can’t even
squeeze my cunt muscles partly because I am exhausted but also because it’s
impossible. I have no room left in my pussy whatsoever to squeeze.

The third man grunts, and grunts like an animal. His body odor wafts and
makes me drunk. He gets into position and pile drive fucks me and I
cry. The fat man laughs. But I can’t stop crying and whimpering. The fat
man doesn’t care. He grabs my hair and guides me back Home. And I suck as
best I can, whimpering between each breath I take through my slobbering
nose. The third man’s grunts get deeper, rougher, his fucking gets
heavier. He is pile driving into me with so much force the entire bed rocks
and my chest cavity echoes. I’m not sure if it’s my mouth, or the sight of
his buddy sledge hammering me in half, but the fat man is rock hard and his
dick starts to spasm.

It’s almost too much cum. My mouth is flooded with a sharp stream and my
pussy is stabbed with another. Both men grunt and both cocks pump into
me. Both men push my body away, forcing me on the bed beside the fat man. I
collapse relieved. Fulfilled.

“Hey, you done yet?” the fat man yells into the bathroom. The door
opens. “I gotta piss.”

I lie on the bed on my back. I focus purely on my pussy and the phantom
pain that resides within. I feel the sludge from men leak out of me and I
fight every urge in my body to scoop it up with one hand and eat it. But
the fat man gave me a rule, that I would only swallow His seed.

Suddenly, the bed shifts and my breathing is interrupted. There is weight
on my body. It’s the third man. The weight from his heavily muscled body is
crushing my torso. Then there is warmth on my chin. His breath. It stinks,
but I feel blessed. There is a trace of stubble on my lips. I lift up my
head, hopefully, magnetically drawn to his hot breath. And it happens, his
lips. I am kissed. I am kissing. His tongue enters my mouth with
force. It’s thick, almost as if I were sucking another cock. He kisses me
with such force that it pushes me against the mattress and my head writhes
on the bed, knocking off the cumrag blindfold.

Then it’s over. I open my eyes for the first time in hours and it’s sticky
from my tears and the dried cum from the blindfold. I squint in the light,
eager to see my first kiss and the owner of the thick, monster cock that
tortured me to heaven.

“Oh shit,” it’s the first words the third man said in hours.

My eyes focus. I can finally make out his face. “Oh shit,” I say.

“Coach.”

We stare at each other speechless. I don’t even try to cast my eyes down to
his thick cock. The bathroom door opens and the fat man comes out. “Don’t
tell me you gotta shower too? We’ll never get out of here,” He said.

“No,” said Coach, noticeably, distracted. “I was just thinking.” He looked
at my naked body and lifted a foot that he pushed into my waist as if he
were trying to shove me off the bed. “Your faggot is disgusting. She smells
like asshole. You really want that smeared on your bed all night?”

The fat man looked at me. “Sleep on the floor, Hole. Right there next to
the bed.”

He looked at coach, “I don’t think I’ll need her for the rest of the night
anyway.”

The two of them laughed as I climbed in the space between the bed and the
sliding doors of the closet, too ashamed to look up. Too scared to grab a
blanket.

 

Date: Fri, 14 Jun 2013 18:18:43 -0600
From: Jay Dee <juliet.delta88 (at) gmail (dot) com>
Subject: Home part 8

Disclaimer: I own all the rights to this original work and give license to
the Nifty archive. Copyright 2013. All characters are fictional, any
similarities to living people are entirely coincidental.

If you haven’t already, please consider donating to Nifty, this is a
wonderful project. Comments, critiques: juliet.delta88 (at) gmail (dot)
com. -thanks

***

Home – Part 8

I was afraid of dribbling semen out of my ass and onto the fat man’s
carpet, where I spent the night naked and uncovered, so I slept on my
stomach. Apparently, at some point, my sleeping body started humping the
floor, rubbing my undying hard-on into the carpet tile, a scratchy swath of
dirty fabric. The foreskin under my dick was visibly burned and there was a
wet spot on the floor.

My body ached in places I didn’t know existed. I could feel a weary
soreness tug at my guts, the bearded man trained me to use my cunt muscles
and now it’s causing me a new kind of pain I have never before felt. My
cunt. Fuck. I mean my asshole, holy shit. I realize now that I dreamt
horribly that I was lying on my stomach and my asshole was a wide crevice,
exposed to the size of a basketball. I reach around to my hole, to reassure
myself. It’s not a gaping nightmare, but my fingers are instantly slick
with cold, dead cum. My hole is a mess.

The room is empty. The bed is made. The clock says it’s just after noon. I
slept for 12 hours. On the bed is my bag, and my clothes in a messy pile. I
realize now that I haven’t seen my things since Friday night, after I
undressed and locked myself to this bed. He must have hidden them. On top
of my shirt is the key to the collar around my neck. The cell phone is also
there, blinking. I check the phone before unlocking myself.

“next weekend. all weekend.”

My dick instantly gets hard, stretching my foreskin enough to inflame the
carpet burn.

I have been naked for almost 48 hours, mostly locked and leashed to this
bed. During that time, I have drunk piss, I’ve been ass fucked by so many
men that I can’t remember how many. One guy spit on me. I stink an ungodly
stench of piss, semen, shit and sweat. It hurts to do so, but I am actively
squeezing my asshole to keep in the loads of semen. I am starving. First I
have to shower. I rush to the bathroom , but the door is locked. I knock
gently, but both the echo from behind and the darkness framing edges of the
door tell me that it’s empty. He’s not here, but he still locked the
bathroom door?

“Fat motherfucker.”

In a rush, I head for the kitchen. I’m going to have to piss in the
sink. And yet, I realize there is an unspoken command. My clothes, the key,
the phone and the locked door. He wants me gone. I hate this man. And I’m
starting to see that he hates me. But, inside, in my mind I know I will not
disobey. I have no choice. I get dressed and leave, deciding instead to pee
in the bushes behind the hotel.

“Didn’t expect you back this early.” When I get home, my dad was mowing the
lawn. He was refueling the machine when I approached. It was weird when I
first stepped out of the fat man’s room. The sunshine, the air. It was
almost as if I had forgotten that I belonged in the light, clothed. People
could see me, my face and I could see them. That feeling was intensified
when my dad talked to me. I belonged here, more than anywhere else. My
family, my father, mother, sister. And yet, my weekend haunts me as I
approach my father, the man who almost 18 years ago, carried me into this
house and probably shed a tear at the thought of what kind of man his only
son would someday become.

A cockslave. He’d shed another tear if he knew I had become a cockslave for
a fat, bald and ugly man who is at least five years older than my father
himself.

“Yeah,” I say to my father. “I just wanted to be at home, I guess.”

As he filled up the mower from the plastic gas container, he asked
something about the guys. I begin to answer, but my words evaporate as I
trace with my eyes his hairy legs, solid muscular stumps that pour out of
his khaki shorts and plant into the ground at his bare feet, soles
grass-stained green. In those shorts, at the apex of his thick, masculine
legs, is the bulge. He’s not wearing any unde … What the fuck?

“Fine,” I say, catching myself. I realize now that my most traumatizing
moments have defined my psyche. I have been naked, molested and
hate-fucked. Now, my entire life is defined by sex. Not even sex, by
cock. By men. Jesus, even my father. “We had a good time. Played a lot of
ball.”

More small talk. Our first game is in two weeks, he reminds me. His cock is
hanging to the left. He advises that I work on my defense, I can’t just
rely on my speed and shooting skills. His feet are sweaty, and need to be
cleaned, I could …

“Son?” I snap to attention. I apologize. He says again, there is something
wrong with the choke on the mower. Yes. I will start the machine as he
holds down the choke button. Jesus, my mind is a mess. I get into position
behind the machine and my dad kneels down to push the button a few
times. The sun is beating down and his skin is glistening. There is an
elongated patch of moisture darkening his t-shirt at the center of his
muscular back. He looks directly at me and sniffs. Oh shit. He sniffs
again.

He makes a guttural sound. “You guys didn’t spend much time showering this
weekend,” he says, half-joking. I laugh, but my heart sinks. Oh dad. You
are smelling my asshole. It’s filled with the cold dying sperm from a bunch
of men I never saw. I’m sorry. He focuses back on the choke, but pauses
again. “Seriously. Did you guys get into something?”

No, I say. I just didn’t get time to shower before I left. He continues to
sniff, faster. It’s like, he recognizes something and I can see his brain
working, trying to pinpoint the scent. I rush and pull the starting cable
with all the strength I can muster. Thankfully, the machine roars to
life. I hand the kill switch to my dad and point upstairs and mouth the
word “shower.” Over the motor, he yells with a smile, “Hurry!”

Sorry dad.

***

It’s hard to masturbate with the carpet burn on my dick. One of the
blessings of being uncircumcised, I can pull the skin back as far as it
reaches and massage my cock head. I unload four orgasms in the shower, then
two more on my bed afterward.

The week exists through a filter. I see everything differently, I see
everything in scales of fuck. I see a guy and try to picture his dick and
imagine his fuck style. I see girls and picture how a man would fuck her,
how his muscular ass cheeks would tense with every thrust he threw into
her. I can see that Principal Smith was probably hot 30 years ago, not that
I wouldn’t want to see his wrinkled, naked package today if he’d let
me. Even Mrs. Windell, my calculus teacher, she is the most overweight
faculty member at school. She’s at least 60. But she has kids and that
means a man has fucked her. She has had dick, and I envy that. This, this
is how I see everything, through dick-colored glasses.

The week passes frustratingly slow. I keep the fat man’s phone on me, but
I’m pretty sure I won’t hear from him until Friday. On the other hand, I
have not stopped thinking about Coach. My basketball coach was somehow
friends with the fat man. He was the last man to fuck me Saturday night
with his unbearably thick cock. While I was still blindfolded, gave me my
first kiss. It was magic. But he nudged me with his running shoe and told
the fat man that I was too disgusting to sleep on the bed when he found out
who I was. Coach knows my secret, but I don’t think he’ll tell. He knows
I’m only 17, he knows I’m a student at the high school and not an
employee. He doesn’t know that I want his fat cock inside me forever.

At practice, we ignore each other. He never calls me out, not even when I
made a bad pass during scrimmage and he had every right to read me an
act. I overthrew it on purpose. I want him to yell at me. I want him to
order me. But we never so much as look at each other the entire week.

Other than that, I try to resume a normal life. I must admit, there is a
part of me, deep within, that holds more than a sliver of guilt over what
the men do to me. I have lost a part of myself that I now realize I might
never get back. In an effort to do that, I ingratiate myself with my
friends. I tell them there isn’t much going on in my life. My buddy, and
teammate, Jim, suspects something more is going on. He was with me at the
mall the day the fat man called me home in the men’s room. And he covered
for me over the weekend when I told my parents I was staying at his
place. He has agreed to do the same this coming weekend. Thankfully, he
doesn’t push for more information, partly to respect my privacy, partly
because he is too enamored by Stacy, his girlfriend.

Stacy must know about my weekend secret, or that a secret exists. But she,
too, is too preoccupied to push me for info. I watch them in the cafeteria,
she sits on his lap, they feed each other fruit. They smile. I envy my
friends, their connection and the fact that it’s so public. I flash to a
picture of me imitating those acts in my world. What if I had a tall, lean
stud sitting on my lap during lunches, and we walked down the halls
spooning each other, and we made out at my locker in between classes. We
wouldn’t last long in this small town. Jim once joked that he’s going to
propose to Stacy during our graduation. He’s just going to drop down on one
knee after they both get their diplomas, right in front of everyone. I’m
starting to believe that he is going to go through with it. And the crowd
would love it. They’d make loving sounds and applaud young love. My mystery
stud and I, we would get lynched.

I mourn my loss of love and build my resolve to meet my master on Friday.

Friday. I don’t bother telling coach that I’m going to miss practice, I’m
sure he knows. I follow my orders and go straight to the fat man’s room
after school. There, I strip and put all of my things in the large duffel
back that is waiting for me at the door. Naked, I get on my knees, facing
the door, and wait. It’s a bright fall afternoon, but the drawn thick
curtains cast the room in almost complete darkness. An hour passes, and I
want to get up to stretch my legs, instead I follow my specific orders to
kneel here, right in front of the door, waiting to greet Him and His master
dick. Suddenly, my heart jumps as I hear the door knob twist. I bow my head
to the floor. My eyes are closed, and I expect some type of touch,
hopefully to lift my head so my lips can meet his flaccid cockflesh.

Instead, I hear footsteps rush beside me. Then I feel harsh fabric on my
back.

“Put this on,” He says.

It’s his cumrag of a t-shirt. He used this as a gag to keep me quiet when
he was training me to take his massive cock. He used it as a blindfold last
week when he invited random men to help further train his cockslave. The
shirt is splotched with brown protein stains. It stinks of yeast, rotted
sugar and oddly a cheap bleach scent. I have to pull apart the fabric,
which is pasted together at certain points. It makes a static, almost
plastic sound as the months of dried semen breaks up.

“Put it on,” his voice is harsh.

The shirt feels inhuman, cruel, against my skin. It’s huge, I could fit two
more guys of my size in this thing. I can almost feel the dried semen that
clings to my hair as I slip my head through the collar. The shirt hangs
down to my thighs. If I stand fully erect, my cock head hangs down low
enough to see under the shirt.

“Let’s go,” he says.

I pause and wait for him to throw me something else. Some shorts. Fuck,
even a towel. Then I realize he has no intention of doing so. He senses
this. And orders me out the door. I want to argue. I want to rebel. I look
at the front door, the floor, and … fuck. The duffel bag with my
clothes. It’s gone.

“I can get the collar and leash and lead you out of here,” he says,
matter-of-factly. I obey. I hunch my back as much as I can and walk out
onto the cement walkway. We’re on the second floor of this hotel, which is
really more of an apartment complex. I try not to hold the bottom of the
shirt against my thighs, which would make it too obvious that I am naked
under this. Then, I get to the stairs around the corner. And fuck. On the
bottom three steps are two boys playing cars. I walk down, carefully, in my
bare feet. Each step I take, I also tighten my hold on the bottom of the
shirt, holding it close, hoping to hide my cock and balls. I hate to admit,
but I am partially erect. The boys stare at me as I walk down the final 10
or so steps. As soon as my back is to them, I hear high-pitched giggling.

The man takes me to a pick-up truck, shining black. My heart skips as I
approach and see someone sitting inside. He is much younger than the fat
man. He is lean and has wide friendly eyes framed by his kempt bushy brown
beard. He smiles when I approach the passenger door.

“Hey Dump!” He laughs hard and looks to the fat man. “What the fuck is she
wearing?”

The fat man chuckles. “Trust me, you don’t want to know.”

The bearded man orders me to take off the shirt. I hesitate and look around
the parking lot.

“Hey!” he says. “A man just gave you an order!”

I remove the shirt.

He opens the door, and reaches down to unfasten his seatbelt. He is
deliberately taking his time as I stand here, bare-ass naked in the hotel
parking lot. The fat man is already in the truck, starting the
ignition. Then I realize that the bearded man has no intention of
moving. Instead, he lifts up his butt just enough to pull down his pants to
his ankles. He pushes the entire seat back as far as it will go. With a
smile on his face, he looks directly into my eyes. I climb into the floor
of the cabin, at the bearded man’s feet. It’s cramped and his knee slams
into my jaw when he pulls shut the door. I dig into the musty pubic hair to
find his cock and get to work.

I focus on his cock and balls for the entire hour-and-a-half drive. He
never acknowledges me, never touches me, he doesn’t even really get
hard. Instead he talks to the fat man about contracting work, sports and
the news. It becomes clear, based on their conversation that the bearded
man is a local employee at the fat man’s contracting firm. The fat man is a
relatively new addition to the bearded man’s circle of friends.

It’s dusk when we finally park. We are in the woods. At the fat man’s
cabin. The air is soft and sweet. The bearded man orders me out of the
truck. The air is instantly frigid on my naked body. The men immediately
start to unload boxes from the truck bed and into the cabin. I have no
instructions, so I follow suit and grab a box. It’s a case of beer. Holy
shit, they have a lot of beer. Food. And bows. There are three of them,
they look high-end, titanium compound bows each colored just a different
shade of camouflage. That’s when I know, we are deep in the mountains. The
only legal hunting this time of year is bow hunting and that’s strictly in
bear country.

The boxes are unpacked in no time. The fat man orders me to kneel in the
main commons room of the cabin. Other than that, the men both never say a
word to the naked teenager. Not even when they finally settle down on the
couches next to me. Each, with a beer in his hand, sit right in front of
me.

“So,” said the bearded man. “How do you want to do this?”

The fat man takes a deep swallow from his can and immediately tries to
stifle a gassy burp. “Like a band aid, I guess.” He then unfastens his
pants buckle and pulls down his pants to his ankles.

“Home.”

I leap into action. The bearded man laughs at my quick response. “Home?
That’s a good one.” He pauses a contemplation. “Would it do that if I gave
that order?”

“She better not,” the fat man answered. Jesus, with all these
pronouns. “She only has one home. Right?”

Proudly, I look the ugly fat man in the eyes. “Yes sir.”

It doesn’t take long for the master cock to become fully erect, massive,
godlike. I love this cock.

He orders me to ride it, but first he sits on the floor. My heart leaps in
anticipation. I leave behind an extra glob of spit on the cockhead as I get
up to turn around. The cock presses against my asshole and enters
smoothly. I exhale, trying to contain the pain, absorb it into my soul. And
with no trouble, my butt cheeks are pressed directly against the fat pillow
under his pubic hairs. His warm, firm, massive belly is pushed directly
into my back. I use my knees to elevate my ass so I can more effectively
ride the full foot of cock. I stifle my whimpers, but the bearded man still
shakes his head in disgust.

Then the sound of crunching earth, engines. Another vehicle has
arrived. The bearded man looks out the window. “Showtime,” he says. It’s
not until one of the engines stop that I hear the second one. Two vehicles
have arrived simultaneously. I can feel my pulse in my throat. I can
almost sense what they have planned, but I’m too scared to guess exactly
what it is.

The bearded man races to the kitchen and comes back with two six packs of
beer. He heads to the front door to greet the visitors.

“What’s up, fellas?” I can hear him, his voice betraying nothing of what’s
happening just inside that door. I hear a voice call the bearded man
“Jared.” That same voice continues “So, Danny says you guys have some treat
waiting for us.” Danny, that’s coach’s name.

I can hear beer cans splash open.

Jared’s voice: “Yeah. You guys remember Vegas, a couple years ago?”

There is laughter. “You didn’t get another hooker, did you? That was …”

Jared interrupts. “… A disaster. I know, we really fucked her up. But she
was just in it for the money, that was our first mistake. You guys have to
be patient and trust me. This is so much better. But you have to hear us
out first.”

I wish the fat man would blindfold me. I want him to cover my face. I can’t
stand this. The screen door squeaks open and I hear a herd of heavy boots
clunking over the porch and inside. My knees are shaking so bad they start
to buckle, which is a bad move considering any slip in my balance would
impale me on the master cock. Please, cover my face. I can’t do this. I am
panicking completely, and yet I have not lost any rhythm as I ride the
giant cock in my asshole. I have made no move to get up. My face is boiling
hot. My head is spinning. This is it.

Instinctively, I try cover my face, but at the first sign of movement, the
fat man grabs my wrists and pulls my arms behind me. First there is loud,
forced, laughter. That’s followed immediately by at least four of the men
yelling, “What the fuck is this?”

I can’t look away. The fat man is pulling back my arms so far, I lean
forward, toward the men. Squealing under my breath, I scan the entire
group. There are six men who walk into the room. Coach is with them, but he
is in the back, the last to enter. Jared has to force the men to come into
the room, most stopped in their tracks as soon as they saw the teenaged boy
riding a 46-year-old man’s gigantic dick. The men are dressed for a hunting
weekend, they might as well be posing for an outdoors catalog. They were
all wearing dirty jeans, hiking boots and most of them had on some
variation of long sleeved plaid shirts unbuttoned and open chested. There
wasn’t a clean chin in the group, each man had at least thick, dark beard
stubble, if not a full beard. Two of the men were completely bald, and
those were the two with the biggest beards. One of the bald men was
fat. The shortest man seemed to be about 5-feet-five-inches, he also had a
beard and thick-framed glasses. The tallest man was huge, he was also
burly, shaped like a football and carried a belly. The last man was tall,
scruffy and broad shouldered. He could have been the bounty paper towel
guy.

My dick was aching at the sight. Each of the men looked upon me with
disgust.

“Who the fuck is this, guy,” asked the Bounty man, his voice betraying fear
and rage.

The short guy followed up immediately. “He’s just a boy.”

“Guys,” Jared shouted, fighting for attention. “This is not a boy. It’s
definitely not a man.” He took a swig from his beer. “This is 100 percent,
pure faggot.”

The men answered with disbelief. They protested the use of that word, the
use of me.

“No, it’s not gay,” Jared said. “Listen to me. This is not a gay man. A gay
man is still a man. A faggot serves men, gay, straight, fat, old. Trust me
on this. We tested it last weekend and this is a pure faggot.”

The protests had quieted, but not completely. Every word he said stung me,
in my heart, my brain, everything that makes me a human, it hurt hearing
what Jared, the bearded man, thought of me. I was ashamed. He was telling
the truth, and it hurt me to realize it. Coming to terms with what I am: It
stings.

“This isn’t a `he’ or a `him.’ It’s just, a faggot.”

Sorry, dad.

A couple of the men had calmed down and started sucking on their cans. The
short man, shook his head, as if he tried to wake himself up.

“Wait. You have sex with him … it?”

“No. Not sex,” Jared said. “We fuck it. Sex is what men have with our wives
and girlfriends or even our boyfriends. That is mutual. We have to respect
them.” He paused and let the men absorb what was going on. “Carl, when is
the last time you had sex with your wife?

The tallest man answered meekly, at least two weeks ago, he says.

“And what kind of sex was it?” Jared asked. Carl shrugged.

“I know we all love women,” Jared said. “We love our wives. We make love to
them like men should, right? But we have to wait. They have to be in the
mood. We have to clean ourselves up. We have to use condoms and
chemicals. We have to be hygienic. Shit! Even when we tried paying for it!
That hooker in Vegas still had a bunch of bullshit rules for us.”

He definitely has everyone’s attention.

“Aren’t there times when you just want to FUCK?” Jared punched the air in
front of him. “When you want to just rip something apart with your dick?”
He grabbed his crotch. “Don’t you ever want to drop a fucked up load into
something and walk away leaving it a crying, cummed up mess?”

I’m not positive, but I think I see the Bounty man and both bald men
slightly nod their heads.

Jared walks over to me and grabs my face. Surprisingly, he lightly caresses
my cheek. I can see now, he is quite baby-faced under the dark beard. His
eyes are almond-shaped and shine with kindness. “Don’t you ever want to
take something smooth and perfect …” Suddenly he grabs my hair and yanks
so hard I can hear dozens of strands break and uproot. He slams my face
into his crotch, the force was so abrupt that my wrists slipped out of the
fat man’s grip, although to some degree of pain in my shoulders. “… and
FUCKING RAPE IT?”

My head is spinning. I can’t see anything but Jared’s stomach and the hair
from his belly that is sneaking out, just over his jeans. But I can hear
several of the men snicker.

“That’s what faggots are for!” Jared was enthusiastic, yelling,
preaching. “They have evolved to serve that need in men.” He drinks more
beer. “The faggot is born to serve men. We don’t have to wait for it to be
in the mood. We don’t have to give a fuck if it feels love. It only loves
cock. This faggot here, it is just two holes meant to host cock. It has a
pussy where its mouth should be and a cunt where its ass should be. And
either of these holes will take your cock whenever in the hell you want to
give it.”

By the looks on the faces, I could tell that no one was going to leave the
cabin. Although, I’m not sure all of them were sold on Jared’s “gift.”

“Faggot,” he says to me. “What do you want to be when you grow up?”

I didn’t know what to say. I didn’t know the answer, I have no aspirations
beyond this moment right now.

“Sir, I want to be …” both my mind, my mouth are running on autopilot,
“… your …” I struggle to find something, but the words are pouring out
of my mouth on their own, reflex, pure instinct. “… your underwear, sir.”
The truth.

The room erupts in deep, masculine laughter that hurts me just as much as
excites me.

Jared looks at me surprised, puzzled, disgusted. Laughing, he asks, “What
the fuck does that mean, Dump?”

The fat man’s dick is splitting me open, He now has both of his arms hooked
around my shoulders and pulling me down onto the throne of His cock with
full force. I whimper a faggot’s cry.

“I … I want to soak up every drop that comes out of your beautiful dick,
sir. I want your cock stain.”

From a quick gaze, I can see most of the men react to my revelation with
shock, maybe disappointment, mostly disgust. What the fuck was I saying?
That wasn’t true. I want to play basketball. I want to be a writer. I have
a family that I love, I someday want my own family that I’ll love even
more. But I look around the room at the eight men who are watching me ride
the monster cock. No one has left. No one has ordered me off the monster
cock. No one has beat me. On some level, they have accepted what I am doing
and I find solace in that. The tallest man, Carl, is grabbing his crotch,
adjusting for comfort. The movement catches my eye immediately and I am
fixated. My soul is targeted on his crotch and I know I want it. I don’t
care what size it is. I don’t care if he has showered. I want it in me, I
want what’s inside. I never want to be without it.

I do. I want to be his underwear.

I build up my strength. I make a major leap of faith and I speak out of
turn. “Please, sir.” I’m still looking directly at Carl, the tall man who
grabbed his crotch. Jared follows my gaze to the man and smiles when he
sees the target of my pleading. Carl looks startled. He immediately looks
at his comrades, guilt-ridden, and lightly steps back.

I am not trying to manipulate my voice, but it comes out high-pitched,
desperate. As if I were days into the desert, begging for the last ever
drop of water. “Please sir. Please.” My voice sounds like I’m on the verge
of uncontrollable sobbing.

Jared places an arm around the man and lightly nudges him forward. “It’s
just a pussy,” he says. “It was created for this, for us.”

The man approaches gingerly and stops directly in front of me. I unlatch
his belt, unbutton his jeans and take down his zipper as quickly as I can,
panicked, starving. There is a yellow stain on the front of his white
jockey shorts and I immediately press my face against it and inhale life. I
pull down the band and a thick shrub of pubic hair pops out, my heart skips
a beat. I reach down and grab the mostly flaccid cock. It seems about four
inches, circumcised. It is almost entirely buried in his unkempt pubes and
there is a strong fishy odor of stale piss that I inhale like life
support. “Thank you, sir,” I whisper directly to the cock and take it in my
mouth.

I can immediately feel it stiffen in my mouth. This act brings me no
physical pleasure, not like getting fucked. But in my heart and my soul, I
can feel the sunshine warming the entire world. I feel baptized. I don’t
even notice that I am moaning deep until I hear a voice from the
room. “Jesus, he really loves that.”

“It,” says Jared harshly. “Remember, it’s just two holes. And they both
belong to men. To us.”

Fully erect, the cock is just big enough to enter my throat, it creates a
deep, satisfying swallowing sound every time his musty balls hit my
chin. My lips slurp over the edges of his cockhead as he pulls out. One
hand lies limp at his side, the other is holding his beer can close to his
face. He has no interest in touching me, which is disappointing. I reach
around and pull on his buttcheeks, trying to create a forceful fuck
rhythm. His breathing is ragged. Eventually, he takes over thrusting his
hips into my mouth to the point where his pelvis smashes my face. I moan
even louder. Behind me, the fat man starts making his own sounds, deeper
breathing and light groaning.

“You see?” says Jared. “Unlike a woman, or a real gay man, the faggot is
always ready to serve. It will never turn you down. It will never ask you
to cuddle afterwards. What it does have is a man’s libido, which makes it
willing to take the most brutal fucking you wouldn’t dare give your women.”

The fat man is groaning louder. The sound is like a wakeup call. I remember
all over again, the promise I made to Him. I cannot swallow another man’s
seed. Just in time, the tall man starts moaning and I can feel the cock in
my mouth begin to spasm. It’s happening. With no time to plan a strategy, I
pull off the cock and rub it against my face. A thick, heavy blob spurts
out, directly in my eye. Another follows and covers one of my nostrils. The
third spurt seems to warm the rest of my face. I am completely plastered in
cum.

I look back to the fat man, my way of showing him my cum-caked face,
silently proving to him that I have kept my promise. With that, he thrusts
hard and deep into my asshole … my cunt that it instantly makes me yelp
and tear up. His massive cock shoots into my guts then continues to
convulse and pump his seed into me, impregnating me with pride.

He pushes me off of his dick. For a second, I’m not sure what to do. I
suddenly feel exposed and scared until He saves me with that word.

“Home,” he says, frustrated that he has to remind me. Shit. I have to clean
His cock.

Without pause, I kneel before him and suck the master dick clean. Behind
me, there is a baritone chorus of disgust. The voices of men groaning at
the faggot. “That was just in its asshole,” I don’t recognize the
voice. But I do recognize Jared’s, which admonishes: “Its cunt.” There is
another voice. “Jesus, look at the cunt, it’s leaking a pint of jizz.”

Oh shit.

“Feed yourself,” says the fat man in a sinister whisper. Immediately, I am
filled with regret. But my duty is simple. It’s clear. The cum on my face
is cooling into a glaze. The larger globs have dropped down to my chest,
although, my left eye feels sealed shut. I start to lean my face to the
floor, targeting the semen that dripped out of my cunt before the fat man
speaks again. “Start with what’s inside.”

I move slowly, and lie on my back. I lift my legs, so my asshole is pointed
toward the fat man. He grabs one of my ankles and forcefully spins me so
the men can see directly into my cunt hole. They have no idea what is going
on. I work my cunt muscles, the same muscles I use to shit. My cum-stained
cunt is winking at the men and I can see the confusion and shock on their
faces. Simultaneously, I feel a glob of semen seep out of the hole and the
eyebrows of the men rise in shock. A few of them release groans of
disgust. One of them asks, “What the fuck is it doing?”

I bunch together the four fingers of my right hand and press them against
my cunt crack, just below my hole. I shit out another glob of cum, a big
one, then I comb my fingers over the hole, carefully gathering all of the
precious semen. For the first time since we kissed last week, I look Coach
directly in his eyes. With nothing else to lose, I take my fingers from my
ass and hungrily lick off the semen, thoroughly sucking between each finger
and licking every crack of my knuckles. Greedily, I moan with pleasure,
eating my cunt sludge. The room completely erupts in horrified laughter and
groans. The sound of men is thunderous, it shakes my chest cavity. I sense
complete disgust from them. The fat man and Jared both laugh,
accomplished. I shit out another load and feed myself, and the chaotic
groans seem to evolve to hatred. The men call me a faggot. This time, at
last, realizing what it truly means.

The men, that is, except for coach. I stare into his eyes throughout the
ordeal. He doesn’t yell, he doesn’t groan. He is stone faced. I can’t tell
if he is angry, or if he is mourning.

When my cunt is clean, I turn over, lifting my hole high, and slurp up the
cold semen on the floor.

“The faggot, fellas,” says Jared, turning the attention back to him. “We
are here all weekend. Both holes will be here and exposed the entire time.”

A few of the men laugh. Some of them cheer. Naked on my hands and knees, my
body shivers from fear and excitement. My dick is so hard, my foreskin
actually hurts.

2 Responses to “Home by Jay Dee”

  1. The Devil's Advocate Says:

    I loved the story. I especially like your writing style. I like the small details you add like the smell of the basketball on his hands. It seems almost insignificant at first glance. Yet, it not only tells us something about him (that he likes basketball), but the thought of that smell brings back memories of our own. Not that many kids that have never handled a basketball at least once. I will have to use this technique in my own stories.

    The only thing that disappointed me was the ending. You seemed to be leading up to something but it turns out to be basically a repeat of what we read in the prior orgy scene… only in a new setting. I thought for sure you were going to have the coach show up with a few of his team mates. One possibly being the friend who was covering for him. It was still a good ending, just not quite as exciting as I thought it would be. Granted, if it was me I probably would have gone WAY overboard and had the fat guy auction the boy off with the coach winning the bid and taking over as his master. Then the story ending with the fat guy putting a new ad online. I’m a little dark that way sometimes.

    — The Devil’s Advocate

  2. Suzy sissi Says:

    I love


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