A gay story: The Other Side of the Tracks Ch. 02 Author’s Notes: I continued off an inspiration from a fellow Litster. If gay sex, BDSM, interracial sex, or cats and dogs living together in sin bother you, you may want to skip this story. Any resemblance to real persons other than my own perverted self are purely coincidental. I hope you enjoy it; there are more chapters to cum, and it digs deep into the abyss.
Rough Day, Rough Night
I looked at the text message again, and again chills rain down my spine as I considered the ramifications.
It wasn’t bad news; no relatives in the hospital, no work emergencies, no friends asking for help moving. (God, I hate moving even when it’s ME!)
No, it was from you, and for an outsider, it might seem a bit cryptic.
“My day’s been bad. Expect bad night. Parkland, 627, 7 for 8.”
I looked at my watch; 7:00 p.m. was only 3 hours away. I needed to go home, grab my special “go bag,” which lay prepared in the back of my bottom drawer, stop by the drug store, and get across town to the Parkland hotel. As I drove home from the gym, I had to think up a quick cover story to explain my night’s outing.
*****
“Yeah, the boss wants me to go with him to do the presentation, since he’s new…yeah, I know, Saturday morning, right? Who does stuff like this on a Saturday?…Yeah, I know. And the worst part is, the new guy lives out in the sticks, and apparently they have virtually no cell service, not even wifi…Look, I’m sorry, I don’t really have a choice in this! Why don’t you take the kids and go to the aquarium or something? Just put it all on the American Express, I just paid it off…Yeah, I’m going to swing by the house, grab a couple of things…When? Um,”
I hadn’t thought about that. Will you kick me out when you’re done with me? Send me down the road, like a used, blown out tire?
“Well, I’m not sure, it depends on how long this takes. If it’s going to be late, I’d rather not drive over the mountains in the dark, especially since we’re supposed to get some storms in. How about this? If I’m NOT going to make it home by tomorrow evening, I will get word to you…By text or email or something…I don’t know, I’m sure I’ll have reception SOMEWHERE. Yeah, I know, I owe you & the girls a break. We’ll do something before they go back to school in August. Okay, yes, Love you too…Bye…” Frigid bitch, I fail to include.
Cover story is handled, and within a few minutes I’m wheeling into our driveway. I wave to Carl next door, out watering his petunias. Carl the Creeper we refer to him as; we’ve caught him looking through the fence twice, watching the wife and daughters in the pool. I’d raise hell with him…but I’ve watered his wife Janet’s “petunia” a few times while he was off at the casinos in North Carolina for a weekend, so I give him a pass.
And besides, considering the night, maybe even whole weekend of debauchery I have ahead of me, I really don’t have room to talk about anybody else’s sexual quirks, do I?
I’ve learned to be prepared for your texts, even though they are very infrequent. Perhaps that’s WHY I stay prepared with a go bag and a lie. As taxing as these encounters are, both physically and emotionally…I practically live for them. And the infrequency gives time for the welts and – last time – cane stripes to heal. A couple of the marks from the cane were still visible just a week ago. Fortunately, albeit sadly, the wife stopped paying any attention to my body long ago, or I’d have had to endure a Grand Inquisition. Then again, maybe it would be best to have all of this out in the open. Oh, well. No time for thinking about that!
I’m in and out of the house in about 10 minutes, waving again at Carl and now Janet, who has joined him outside, giving him an earful about something he undoubtedly did wrong. Janet smiles at me when she returns my wave, a wistful look on her face. At 45, she still has an ass that stops trains and tits that naturally suck men’s attention away from their own wives. She then turns and launches right back into her tirade at poor Carl. I smile as I drive away. Couldn’t happen to a nicer guy.
The local Dollar General is right on the way, but I don’t want to be caught buying what I’m buying by one of the nosy neighbors. Paranoid? Maybe a touch, but my guilty thoughts run far deeper than what anyone would deduce just from the purchases. I wait until I am just a few minutes from the Parkland and stop at a Walgreens. Ten minutes later, I’m pulling into the Parkland parking lot. Inside, the front desk clerk, a tired old woman who has probably seen more sordid trysts pass through verifies my identification and hands me a key. “The only ice machine working is around the corner from your room,” she offers flatly. I’m sure she’d have a few things to say about a man picking up a key that another man paid for, but she’s gone a bit numb to it all, I suppose. A minute later, backing up outside the last room on the back side. Not much of a crowd here tonight, I notice; the closest car is about 5 or 6 rooms down.
At 6:45 in the evening in July, it is still light outside, but once I close the door behind me, the room is dark. I click on a lamp which gives off a dingy yellow glow. I sigh. The cheap, crappy hotel room is nowhere I’d stay if I was travelling for work or family, but for the nature of these encounters,…it is somehow appropriate. “Cheap room for a cheap slut,” you told me once, as your cock battered my sore and striped ass. I might have debated the value of comfort and cleanliness, if I’d been able to speak intelligible words, not just grunts. Grabbing the ice bucket, I leave the door slightly ajar and walk quickly around the corner to fill up the bucket. I hustle back to the room, set the bucket down, and work a couple of items down into the ice to chill. I look at my watch; 6:55.
Sixty-five minutes should be plenty of time to prepare for you, but procrastination is not a luxury I can afford tonight. I quickly strip naked, grab my bag and the Dollar General bag, and head to the bathroom. A hot shower, ending with me shaving everything below my waist. It’s an indication of the sourness of my marriage that my wife hasn’t even noticed that I’ve been keeping the bottom half of my body utterly hairless. And it’s been three months since the first time I stripped off all the fur. Not once has she noticed, or if she did, she didn’t care enough to remark. You, on the other hand, love to run your hand over my smooth bare skin, especially right after you’ve heated it with your hand, your paddle, your cane or my belt. Because it pleases you…I keep it bare. Touching it up tonight takes far less time than that first night, and I have become quite adept at it. It is an act of service to my Master, and as I run my hands down my ass crack, checking for anything I’ve missed, I look forward to your inspection later.
I’m tempted to toy with my little boi pussy a bit, but I resist, knowing that you want to always be the one that pries that hole open.
I step out of the shower onto a towel and finish drying off. Kneeling on the towel, I reach into the bag and withdraw three of the enemas. Coming down onto my side, one leg cocked up, I reach back and push the first one into me. My ass is still tight, but I don’t even think about it, much less flinch, as it enters me. I squeeze the bulb, and the fluid rushes in. I relax my hand, then squeeze again, and clamp my hole tight behind the exiting nozzle.
For ten minutes, I lay there, thinking about this…life I’m in. A year ago, scenarios like this only occurred in the depths of my imagination, hidden inside of secret crevices and caves of my head. Occasionally, I’d see them pop their heads up, but I always walked past them to more “normal” fantasies. Hear no evil, see no evil, get fucked by no evil, I guess.
That all changed with a single message one day. A reply of mine to a conversation board thread, a PM response from you, and a dialogue that escalated into shared images and past escapades and fantasies. And then you moved. A position opened just 30 miles away from me. I wasn’t a factor in that move, of course. It just happened to be an excellent opportunity for you, that’s all. Right?
That first night…that first hotel room, so much nicer than this one…I…I just still struggle to wrap my head around that sometimes. I mean, I was completely willing, but it still felt like…rape. And I, well, I…lost myself in that. Giving up, surrendering, even welcoming and finally…begging for it… That was so unlike me…and yet so absolutely, truly, incontrovertibly the real me.
My watch tells me it’s been ten minutes, so I carefully sit up on the toilet and empty myself. I wipe myself clean, flush, and lay back down again, this time taking two of the enemas. The bloated feeling, the cramping; they aren’t pleasant feelings at all, but the discomfort helps me enter the “zone” while also making sure I’m clean for Mas-, I mean Daddy’s cock.
The last time we were together, you slipped that word into the equation. “You like Daddy’s cock in your ass, boi?” At the time, it caused me a brief mental hiccup, although I quickly responded that I did, indeed, LOVE Daddy’s cock in my ass, pounding it, drilling it, breeding it. As the words left my lips, so did all hesitation, and the new dynamic began to turn me on. It had nothing to do with my own long-dead father. It had to do with your absolute custody of me, your dominance over my will.
I empty myself of the double load, and I’m pretty satisfied that the cleaning is complete. I wipe and flush, then jump back in the shower just one more time to make sure I’m completely clean for…Daddy. I hang up the towels, retrieve my items, and enter the room. I have only ten minutes left.
Quickly! You have to be ready! I scold myself. Ring, off. Watch, off. Phone off, check. All three in the night stand. Lacy red thong panties, on. (God, that was so embarrassing, going into Victoria’s Secret for those! I must have been as red as the panties as I explained what I was looking for, and the size. She was professional, but I saw that smirk on her face…) Ice bucket on the floor; I hope you notice it and its contents, before you ask for them.
I kneel at the foot of the first bed, just as I did the first time. Only three items remain, well, four, if you count nipple clamps as two. Taking a clamp in my right hand, I pause to take a deep breath, steadying myself. With my left, I tease my left nipple, getting it erect as I stroke, squeeze, and pinch it. When it is fully extended, I slip the clamp over it and gently release it. It pinches hard, and sends a jolt straight to my libido. I repeat the process on my right, and suddenly I feel like a 110-volt appliance plugged into a 220-volt circuit.
I struggle to maintain enough composure to manage the last two items. The trusty blindfold immediately plunges my world into utter darkness. For some reason, this step always relaxes me, helps me begin to ease into my little “subby space,” as you explained it. Lastly come the handcuffs, a brand new pair of stainless Smith & Wessons. I smile as I begin to put them on, remembering my days in the Army, where I put cuffs on “bad guys.” Now here I am putting them on myself for a “bad guy” so he can have full rein over me. I slide the one over my right wrist, then join my hands behind my back, locking the other over my left wrist.
And now, I wait…for Daddy.
*****
How long? 5 minutes? 10? 20? I lose track, but it’s long enough to make me nervous. What if you couldn’t come? What if you’d been in an accident? What if room service found me here in the-
I breathe a sigh of relief when I hear the door open. Which is kind of stupid if you stop to think about it: I’m virtually naked save for a pair of red panties, blindfolded, hands securely cuffed behind my back, key on the worn TV stand/desk 6 feet away, on my knees, in a back-corner room of a seedy hotel on the other side of town, and I’m relieved because SOMEONE, someone I can’t even SEE, opens the door! Really??
So I smile. Like an idiot, I smile.
Or maybe like a slut, a slut eager to please his or her Master, I smile. Yeah, maybe that.
You swing the door open, exposing me to anyone who might be walking by. Though it’s not likely, the thought gives me a flash of fear – and excitement. Indeed, it seems you intentionally leave the door open several seconds longer than necessary before I hear it close and click, then the sound of you closing the additional lock. That sound…flicks a switch in the recesses of my mind.
It’s play time.
You come to me, I feel your hand come to rest atop my head. You lean my head back, turning my face towards you.
“Good evening…slut,” you greet me.
“Good evening, Master,” I respond softly.
‘Slut, what are you?” you ask. This has become our ritual. It formalizes my acceptance of whatever is to come, and opens the door to my stubby space, although it will take a while for me to crawl into it.
“I am my Master’s slut. I am here to serve you, to receive whatever you give, give whatever you request, obey your every command.” I keep my tone humble; I said it back with pride the second time, and bore extra stripes from the cane across each nipple for it.
“Very good, slut,” I hear, as I hear you unbuckle your belt and unzip your pants. Your hands go to my head.
“And what is your safe word, slut?” you ask.
I am confused by your question. “S-sir, I-, uh, your slut has no…safe word.”
“And why is that, slut?”
“Sir, because I belong to you. Possessions don’t limit owners…” I am confused; we already talked through all of this. You wanted me to choose a safe word; it was the only thing that I refused, besides the poop/pee thing. So why…
“Are you still sure of that? No limitations? Anything I tell you to do?”
“Your slave is yours, Master,” I say, trying to conceal my irritation at your apparent loss of confidence in my dedication.
“Easy, slut,” you chide me, sliding your semi-erect cock abruptly into my mouth, silencing any further insolence on my part. Immediately I set about pleasuring you. “I just wanted to confirm that. We will be stretching your boundaries tonight.”
No shit, I think to myself. We’ve been stretching my boundaries every time we meet. And stretching every hole I-
My thoughts about my ass and throat being irreversibly stretched are interrupted when you hit me in the side of the face with something. I’m not sure what you hit me with; a club or bat or something? No, the texture isn’t- what the hell?! Why are you hitting me with this-
And then it hits me again, and stays pressed against my cheek.
And it’s warm. And it is big. Huge, I realize. Even bigger than your cock…in…my mouth…
Panic hits me, and I reflexively try to pull back off of your cock, which has quickly gone fully erect in my mouth. However, you anticipated my reaction, didn’t you? Not only do you not allow me to retreat, your grip on my head tightening, but you shove your growing rod deeper into my mouth, lodging it near the entrance to my throat.
“‘Whatever I choose,'” you remind me. “Isn’t that what you said, slave? That ‘possessions don’t limit owners’, you meant that, didn’t you?” you taunt me.
My own words…echoing through my mind, damning me.
“It’s my desire that you serve my business partner, Clarence. I’m trusting that won’t be a problem…will it?” It might hypothetically sound like a question, but it isn’t said that way.
Boundary…stretched. And judging from what I feel against my face, stretch is going to be the theme of the night.
By way of answer, I resume my licking of the underside of your cock, and bobbing as much as your tight grip allows. Sensing my acquiescence, you loosen your grip slightly, then essentially begin using my mouth and throat to masturbate your cock. Soon, drool is flowing down my chin and throat.
“Here, Clarence,” I hear you say, “have the slut’s throat a bit. I need to do a couple things. Teach him how to choke on that python!” you say, laughing, as you pass your scout’s head to your partner and step away. “You’re in for a rough night, slut!”
I turn fearfully towards this unseen stranger. I nervously lick my lips.
“Relax, boi.” Oh, crap his voice is deep! “We’ll take it easy…the first time. Why don’t you introduce yourself to Big Boy Clarence? Give him a kiss,” he instructs me, rubbing the colossal head along my lips.
Tentatively, I obey, kissing as it happens right on the tip, at the half-inch long slit. No, I couldn’t see it, but when I put my tongue out, that’s where it went, and I stroked it from bottom to top.
Clarence reached down, and pulled this flesh log up, laying it down on my face, and it stretches from my chin up across my forehead. In my head, I roughly estimate this is about 9-10 inches long, and, while substantial, it is still not erect. Yet. Clarence knows what’s going on in my head, I guess: “Yeah, that’s about 9 and a half inches of beef, boi. If you manage to get it all the way hard, and you will, it will be a foot. Now show me if your Master was telling me the truth about how good you are with that mouth.” A colossal, meaty hand covers the top of my head, not pulling, just asserting his control.
My logistical mind cranks up. There is no way I can take this pillar into my throat, not even now, when it is still flaccid. There simply isn’t room; the human body can’t do that. I don’t even know how I could fit it into my mouth, for that matter. I begin to lick and kiss it, starting from the tip down the left side, then back up to the tip to work my way down the right. I can’t get over the sheer size of this thing. At the tip, i lift it with my tongue, and the heft is incredible. I work about half the head in, and already it feels like my jaw is about to unhinge. How am I supposed to satisfy this man, this…THING, if i can’t even get it in my mouth? If I could get both hands free, I could maybe stroke it off while I suck the head, but with them cuffed behind me, all I can do is give the tip a tongue bath.
The obvious answer is probably in my head, but I guess I’m blocking it. That would be…inconceivable…right?
“Up on the bed, slut,” I hear you command. “Put him up there on his knees, Clarence.” Clarence puts a hand under each armpit, and stands me up, then walks me over to the other bed. I feel the bed at my knees, and with Clarence steadying my by my left arm, I get up on my knees at the edge. Your hand in my back tells me to bend over, so I do, feeling pillows under my hips, until my face rests on the bed. A hand on each side, you pull the red panties down to my knees.
“You’re learning, pet. I saw what you did with the ice bucket. You’re getting to be a kinky little fuck toy, aren’t you?” you say, teasing me. Beneath the blindfold, I blush. Hearing you talk about me, revealing my secrets, in front of someone else…that humiliation makes my face hot with shame and lust. Funny how those two emotions have become almost inseparable for me lately.
I hear Clarence chuckle. “Is that what I think it is?” Evidently, you confirm it silently. “And you’re gonna put that…?” Another nod? “Damn, that is some kinky shit!” There’s a few moments of quiet, some rustling, and I hear a whisper but can’t make it out. Clarence chuckles. “Man, you ain’t right!”
These enemas come with a lubricated nozzle; it’s not a lot, but it means when you basically jam them into me, there’s no real pain, just shock. So I’m a little surprised when I feel your fingers apply a cool gel right on the hole, pushing the dollop in just slightly with a fingertip, before you follow it immediately with the frigid enema. Quickly you squeeze, and I feel the icy fluid fill me. Immediately I feel my insides clench, and I suck in my breath. I try to relax, knowing another one will come right afterwards, but it doesn’t. In fact, nothing happens for almost a minute, except I hear you both whispering and laughing very quietly. Quickly I begin to enjoy the frigid water; it leaves me with a tingle and a fresh feeling and…a burn?
My sphincter, which is not numbed by the ice water which flowed the wrong way into it, is the first to feel it. How…? Why is it…? Oh, crap! What the hell? The poor hole becomes a ring of fire. I begin to writhe, futilely trying to find a way to ease the torment. “Ah! Ah! Burns! Master, it burns! What- Oh, please, make it stop!”
Behind me, you and Clarence no longer try to contain your laughter. “What’s the matter, slut? Your boi pussy feeling a little…icy hot?” you tease me.
Oh.My.God. Tell me you didn’t. Please, tell me you didn’t… But of course you did. I catch a whiff of the metholated bane of my existence, and I realize that you weren’t lubing me up for the enema, you were just spreading napalm on my poor boi pussy. Damn, you’re cruel, Master!
“Twelve more minutes, slut. Twelve minutes for you to hold it. And you’re going to want to focus, slut. Because Clarence and I want to redecorate your little bitch ass.” And with that, I feel the first stroke of a cane; a line of fire erupts across both cheeks, dead center. I don’t even get a chance to gasp, much less cry out, as a second stroke lands just above it. A choked gasp barely escapes before a stroke below the first, and then for the next eternity, it seems, blows rain down on me as you and Clarence, each on a side, seem to be trying to establish a rhythm AND compete for Cruelest Bastard in the World at the same time.
I’m not sure of who is on what side, nor do I care. All your bitch knows right now is pain. Pain outside, pain inside, my world is pain. Maybe three minutes in, I’ve lost all dignity. I’m crying, sobbing, begging, and cursing, tears and snot running out of me, soaking the mattress beneath my face. Part way through, you both stop, but that’s just so you can switch sides. Soon the firestorm starts again.
Of course, through all of this, besides the air strike besieging my bottom cheeks, I have two other concerns. One is the very different but equally painful matter of the IcyHot on my asshole and just inside. That exacerbates the other concern: The other concern is that during all of this, I am holding in the enema. The icy cold enema.
I’m not sure if Hell is doing any hiring right now, but I think I’m going to submit my resume. Pretty sure it would be a breeze compared to THIS! I could just sit my naked ass on souls and they’d catch on fire.
My subby space? I’m in there, door locked, hiding under the couch, the light off, cringing at the flashes of lightning.
And then it stops…well, the strikes do. The pain just…abides. I hear your voice, trying to coax me out, but I’m not fooled. I don’t want to go back out there! I just want to stay under here!
Vaguely, the Outside reports in, four of the senses sending reports. Being lifted up, then carried to the bathroom, set on the toilet…somehow figuring out how to release the fluid…groaning as somebody wipes toilet paper over my fiery anus, not realizing it is my uncuffed hand that is responsible. Picked up again, bent over the vanity, looking at myself in the dingy mirror, detached from the reality that I am he and he is me. Apparently you and Clarence are a little dismayed by the sight of what you’ve done. Clarence says something to you in a gruff voice, and you disappear from over my shoulder, then come back.
The next thing I feel is a BIG hand – has to be Clarence’s – smoothing some kind of cream over my backside. I flinch, partly at the pain, and partly in fear that this is a repeat of the IcyHot trick, but it’s not like I could stop Clarence if I had a locomotive handy, and the cream actually begins to soothe the pain. I’m still in my subby place, but I’m out from under the bed, peeking out the door to see whether the storm is over. Slowly, subby me begins to emerge just a little, wiggling his ass a little bit, encouraging the hand in its explorations.
One of Clarence’s huge fingers teases around my asshole, and I groan, but the burn is not really there anymore, or rather it’s faded. It’s reduced to an odd itch, not horrible, but one that, for some reason, I begin to feel could best be satisfied with a hard cock. He doesn’t try to push the finger in, for which I am grateful, because without lube, even his fingers could probably tear me. But I am beginning to want that finger in there. The storm is over, and now it is safe to come out and play. I can’t see either of you; the blindfold is still on. But I do turn my face towards where I hear the big man breathing. I smile.
“You okay to play?” Clarence asks me, supplanting you wordlessly.
“Yes…sir,” I respond, establishing his role in this game. That might irritate you a little bit; I don’t know. I kind of hope so; it will be enjoyable to have to reassert your ownership later. Painful, but enjoyable.
“Good, good. Because I’m gonna enjoy tapping that ass in a little bit. You think you can take Big Boy Clarence up in that white boi pussy?” you ask. I’d pretty much figured Clarence was African American; I pick up on nuances of linguistic differences, even subtle ones. Years of education and experience. Somewhere outside of Chicago, I’d guess. What I hadn’t picked up until now was the fact that the initials for his pet name for his cock (A cock this big DESERVES three words!) also helped define it: BBC, as in Big Black Cock.
I still couldn’t see this magnificent appendage, but now my hands were free, so I reached down and wrapped my hand around it; well, part way around it, anyway. I gently lifted it and stroked up and down it a couple of times.
“Well, sir, I don’t know…but I’m sure going to try,” I say, smiling.
“I think you’ll do just fine. I think your OTHER Master should go first, though. Open that hole up for me a bit.”
“Yes, sir. As you wish.” I am really enjoying submitting to Clarence. Not just to get you riled up about “taking me back” later, and not just because he’s naturally dominant without having to be forceful. No, part of me – a masochistic part, to be sure – really wants to see if I can take that long, fat cock. I don’t know what’s come over me, but what’s cum OUT of me is the slut you’ve revealed and released. And I don’t think she’s going back into that shell anytime soon.
You come and grab me by the neck, no gentleness at all, and pull me back to the bed. “Bend over and put your hands on the bed, slut,” you demand, and I comply, resting my forehead on the bed. I hear no rustling of material, so I am assuming you’ve already stripped off your pants, which is confirmed when I feel your cock in the furrow of my crack, rubbing up and down. You pull back, removing your cock, and I hear you spit and a glob of your saliva lands right above my asshole, running down until you move your rock hard cockhead there, spreading it around.
“Sluts like you, that’s all the lube you need,” you sneer at me, and then drive your cock into me.
Clarence’s cock is gargantuan, but yours is still a struggle to take, even after I’ve had it several times. With plenty of lube and patience, the pain is still substantial, but without it…
I scream. “AHHHHH! NO! NO!, Please, NO! Fuck…sir, please, please, put lube on it!” I beg you. I wanted to arouse you, maybe even provoke a bit of aggressive fucking, but this, this is too much. You ignore my pleas, though, and shove again, fully seating your big cock in just two hard thrusts. I scream again, to which you pull all the way back, then slam it home again. Again a wail erupts from my mouth, this time wordless.
“Hand me that, Clarence,” I hear you say, and the next thing I know, your belt is in my mouth, you holding either end, effectively gagging me and providing you with reins. Again, you retreat and thrust. This time, with your cock buried inside me, you pull back on my reins, pulling my head back, bending my back almost in half. I feel your breath in my hear, and you growl into my ear, saying, “You listen to me, slut. He may have that big fucking cock, but don’t you ever forget that you belong to ME. Understand?” You punctuate this last word with a rapid full stroke out and back into me, forcing a whine out of my soul and around the belt.
“Yfff, Mstr,” comes my muffled response.
You pull the belt from my mouth, but I can feel it still in your hand. You begin to pound my poor boi pussy relentlessly, full strokes, wringing all manner of moans and groans and pleas from me.
“Clarence, why don’t you come over here and give him something to shut him up,” you say to your business partner. I hear Clarence move between the beds, then I feel the mattress depress where he sits in front of me, then scoots down before me. His legs brush my hands, and I pick them up, resting them on tree-trunk thighs. What ARE you, Clarence? I wonder. Although you are still hammering away at my poor bottom, I smile blindly up at Clarence. My hands slide up each leg to come to the base of his cock.
Gone is the stuffed sock I felt earlier. Evidently all of this, or maybe the prospect of putting that big thing up a white boi’s pussy, has him excited already. Now I’m holding a baseball bat made of meat, it seems. The feel of it both excites me and terrifies me, and I begin to stroke it with both hands as my mouth descends on it. I lick and suck, letting drool flow freely from me, down over the head, along the shaft, lubricating my hands as they pump him. You’re still pummeling my hole back there; it’s as if my body has separated into two different departments: Boi pussy department, receiving a hard, harsh fucking, and Mouth department, pouring all kinds of customer service onto an impossibly large cock. Business is good at both ends!
Clarence reaches down and puts a massive hand on each side of my head, and pulls my mouth straight onto the head of his cock. An apple would be an exaggeration, but a large plum…that’s what it feels like. I cover my teeth with my lips, and his cock is making that covering very thin. Impossibly, I feel his cock enter my mouth! I immediately set to licking around it as much as I can; it’s not easy when you have something this big in your mouth. I pump up and down, giving friction to about three inches or four inches of Clarence’s big dick. Not great, but I’m proud to have just got it in there.
“Very good, cocksucker,” I hear the owner of this massive tool tell me. “Now, there’s only one thing, one problem… See, I won’t be able to get it back out past your teeth without catching them on me, and that is NOT an acceptable thing. So, you’re going to have to suck me until I fill that mouth with much cum.” Somehow, it does NOT sound like Clarence is terribly troubled with this concept. “So, you better get to work, huh, slut? Besides, that’ll take the edge off, which means I’ll be able to spend more time getting to know you and that white ass. You see what I’m saying?”
“Yff, frr,” comes my muffled response, and I set myself to the task of sucking the first load out of those big black balls, which I have been stroking with one of my hands for a moment. I set about giving him all the pleasure I can. I really want to taste him, to see how much seed he pumps into my mouth. Being too big to go down my throat means I will taste him, too.
It’s one of those moments. Even though I have one big cock rooting deep in my tortured ass, and I’m slobbering all over an even bigger one in my mouth, time just seems to stand still for a moment, just so I can see my debauchery in my mind’s eye.
Six months ago, I could say I had only had one dick in my mouth, and that was decades ago. Six months ago, I was a straight, married man, with 35 years of marriage to a woman, six kids. My biggest distraction was a proclivity for Asian and Latina women. Picture of straight, right?
That was then. This is now.
Now I’m blindfolded, bent over a bed in a seedy hotel on the wrong side of town. One man is hammering in and out of my ass, a black giant is about to force-feed me his cum. My ass and legs have been shaved clean, and a pair of red lace panties somehow still clings to my left ankle. Across my bottom and the backs of my thighs are innumerable stripes and welts from them punishing me for their own entertainment. (Okay, maybe I enjoyed it a little bit).
And I’m as happy as I can be.
My mind is brought back to the here and now as Clarence begins to grunt at me. “Gonna cum in your mouth, slut. Come get your supper, whore!” He rips the blindfold off of me roughly, and after a few blinks, I open my eyes and look up into his deep brown ones. And with that, his cock begins to pulsate in my mouth, and burst after burst of thick cum fill my mouth. My hands continue to pump his shaft, my mouth still locked on his pumping hose, lips trying to pull more cum out. I keep my eyes on his. The volume is overwhelming, and I struggle to swallow what I have, only to feel more fill me up. Finally, his hips stop pumping, his cock stops twitching, and I am able to carefully slip his member out of my mouth. Even though I swallowed twice, my mouth is still full, and I carefully open my mouth to show him the sign of my accomplishment, then swallow, still holding his stare. As I gulp, his cock spasms one more time, shooting a thick dollop of hot cum onto my cheek.
I guess the sight, and the knowledge of what I had just done in obedience ultimately to you, must be a great stimulation, because with a hand gripping each hip, you give me a series of brutal full thrusts, pulling me back hard into them, and I feel your cock shooting your load into my depths. If it were a possibility, then I have no doubt you would have impregnated me with just these last few strokes.
Even as you defile my boi pussy with your seed, I am stroking Clarence’s cock. Remarkably, he never really went soft after filling my belly with his seed. The pleasure of feeling you cumming in me distracts me, and I close my eyes for a moment as I focus on squeezing you, massaging out every last drop with my ass.
This is the point of justification for me; this is where I feel validated, when I feel your orgasm within me, assuring me that I DO have value, I DO have something to offer someone. I relish your orgasms even more than my own, which are rarely any more than a convenient side benefit I get as I please you. My orgasms when your cock is strumming over my prostate are stronger than any I have ever experienced inside of even the tightest, wettest pussy.
As I feel you begin to withdraw, I open my eyes slowly, looking at Clarence, and I smile. As your big cockhead makes a soft, wet “Pop!” as it leaves me, my mouth is sinking back down to service Clarence again. Within a minute of my attention, he pulls my head up, then begins to pull me up over him. “This’ll make this easier for you…” he explains. I shake my head at him, then explain.
“Sir, Master, please…no. I don’t like it like that. I know, you’re just trying to make it easy on me. Please, sir…I…please, don’t be soft on me. Don’t worry about me. Just take me and…and fuck me, sir. Please.”
Clarence just looks at me for a few moments, as if I’d sprouted horns or something. Then he smiles. “Fine, we can do it your way. Either way, I’m getting that white ass, and once I start, well, you’ve never been fucked like what you’re gonna get tonight. You may be begging to climb on top of Big Boy in a little while.” I just smile at that. Throw me into that briar patch…
Clarence rolls over, allowing me space. First I crawl up on all fours, my ass in the air, but then Clarence evidently has an idea. He turns me around, facing the foot of the bed, then rises from the bed. Going over to the desk, he takes the mirror from behind it and sticks something behind it at the top, steps back, checks the image, then takes one of YOUR socks and puts it behind the right side of the mirror.
I look into the mirror, and see myself. What a lewd image I make, crouched down, naked ass in the air like a slut! I realize that now he and I will BOTH be able to see each other, and my face as I take this monster cock into my ass. Ugh. Not sure how I feel about that, but…we’ll see. Literally.
I see him go to the ice bucket, and I can’t help but grin. Clarence in turn smiles at me as he returns, walks past me, and climbs on the bed behind me. I hear him whistle.
“Damn, Charlie!” Clarence says to you. “You tore this hole UP, man! You nasty, man, not using no lube on an ass like this!” I hear the lube cap snap open, and then the cold, cold lube flows over my ravaged hole, soothing a bit of the burn from your forceful sodomy. Then I feel Clarence’s big middle finger catch the flow, and smear it around and into my brutalized boi-pussy. I see my mouth drop open in the reflection, and my eyes tear up a bit. More lube, more pushing, and then even more as he begins to pump a finger that is probably bigger than many men’s cocks. I can almost see the moan as it crawls out of my mouth.
My eyes go wide when he adds another finger, and my mouth opens wider. At this thickness, his two fingers are as wide as my little weenie. Clarences literally never misses a stroke, just stretching me out as he goes. Your cum has seeped back down, and as it mixes with the lube, the slick sounds get louder and louder as his fingers piston in and out, in and out. My reflection shows me panting, and I begin to rock back into the thrusts.
I see you take a front row seat, pulling the chair up next to me, but not blocking my view. You’re fully dressed, which has me confused. I turn my head to look at you. In spite of what you’ve done to me tonight, or maybe even more so because of tonight, I have a connection to you. You’re my first: First person to cum in my mouth, first person to restrain me, first person to discipline me, and, of course, the first person to fuck me. You took my virginity. I am forever in your debt for opening doors that released me to be who I am.
“He’s going to fuck me, Master.”
“Yes, he is, slave.”
“His cock is huge, sir. I know it’s going to hurt, isn’t it?” At this point, I groan, and my eyes roll back in my head a bit. Third finger now.
“Yes, I’m sure it is. Are you still wanting to let him fuck you?”
“Do you…oh, oh, do you…want…oh…me too, sir?” My voice is broken by Clarence’s pumping his tripled fingers in and out a little more forcefully.
You look at me. I can’t read your face. “What if I say no? What if I make him stop, and you never get to know what it feels like, with a cock that big?”
“I belong to you, sir.”
“And if I tell him to fuck you until you scream, until he makes your ass bleed…what do you say to that, slave?”
Clarence opens me wider, tucking in his pinky, making my eyes bulge a bit, my breath skip, and my heart stop. A small, weak cry comes from me. Yet I smile at you, a single tear coming down my cheek.
“Possessions don’t limit owners. I belong to you…Daddy.”
You smile at me, and place your hand before me. I kiss your knuckles. You look up over my shoulder at your partner.
“Fuck him, Clarence. Fuck him hard…but don’t hurt him, okay?”
“Of course, my friend.” I feel a fresh flow of the cold lube, and his fingers are sliding in and out of me more easily now. But when he withdraws, slathers his big fuck stick with oil, and begins to align the big knob with my abused hole, I can tell…it still isn’t enough prep that this won’t hurt like hell.
“I’m going to leave you with Clarence now, slave. He will have you for the night. Obey him, slut.” You rise and stroke my cheek.
“I will, Daddy,” I assure you.
As you walk to the door, Clarence grabs my hips. I exhale hard, then take a deep breath.
Just before the door closes, the last sound you hear is my pitiful shriek as Big Boy Clarence is shoved up my boi pussy.
*****
I’m not a virgin…but I used to be one. And right now, I’m feeling like I’m one again. Only this time, I’m being “deflowered” by a fire hydrant.
A fire hydrant named Clarence.
Clarence’s hard thrust into my upturned bottom was timed so that you would hear my response. He never said that, but I’m fairly sure of this. It’s like one male bear coming into the territory of another male bear and pissing all over the second bear’s favorite tree. “I’m taking what’s yours!” taunts the bully bear.
Here I am, just an innocent (Ha!) tree. Only Clarence wasn’t pissing on me; he was splitting me wide open. That’s what it felt like, anyway. He took me by surprise; well, I mean, obviously, I know he wasn’t pressing his cock against my boi pussy just to remind me that it was there. But mentally, I was still dealing with the fact that you were leaving me with Clarence.
Why did you leave? Why are you leaving me with this giant with the tree growing between his legs? Are you coming back? What am I supp-
Letters can’t express the sound that come out of my mouth. A scream? A shriek? The sound of a soul tormented in hell? All I know is that it was loud, it was pitiful, and it was decidedly not the most masculine sound I’ve ever made. I guess I sounded just like what I was: A slut being sodomized by a beast. After that initial burst of outrage, though, my next words came jumbled but intelligible.
“NOOO! Oh, God, fuck, please, NO! Killing me! Fuckpleasenopleaseno!, I can’t AHHHHH! NOOO!” Clarence’s second thrust interrupted my pleas. I can only guess how much cock he just forced up my bottom; my closest guess at the moment would be about 32 feet. Might be a little off there.
“Shhhh, quiet now, easy, that’s the worst part. I know it hurts, but it’s better to get that part over quick. It’s like pulling a splinter or taking a bandaid off. Better to do it quick, get that part behind you. The head is in; that’s the worst part. It will get better soon, baby,” Clarence tries to soothe me, his left hand stroking over my back, his right hand still holding my hip, in case I tried to escape.
Or like sitting on a pine tree, I think. Full of rough bark, pine cones, squirrels, and-
Wait. What did he just say? The HEAD is in? The HEAD?
At that moment, Clarence pulls back, and I feel my poor ring stretch again as the head breaches it again, this time pulling back. All air and intelligent thought is sucked out of my head as I again experience the biggest expansion of my boi-pussy yet, made worse by the fact that he stops right there.
I feel a splash of the lube, cool but no longer as frigid as it was. Clarence is being generous with the lube, thank God. He pulls back a bit more, actually clearing my distended anus, and he squirts some up into my gaping hole. I also can hear he is anointing his big cock again, making sure it is thoroughly slicked up.
Before I even finish the thought that I am grateful for all of this, Clarence is pushing back into me. I give a little yelp; the lube helps tremendously, but I doubt I could ever get used to that initial invasion from him. This time, he slides in farther, a good bit farther, actually, but the lube at last eases the friction. He pauses here, and I realize he is giving me time to adjust. I suspect mine is not the first ass Clarence has tapped. I’m grateful for that experience, and try to relax and retreat in my mind from the trauma going on “back there.”
Soon, though, he begins to rock back and forth, just an inch or two at first. I moan, long and slow. I’ve never experienced anything like this. It is like my entire being is trying to accept and wrap around this entity inside of me. Sounds like a horror movie: White boy on the table, everybody trying to find out what’s wrong with him, and suddenly Big Boy Clarence bursts out through his belly. Right now, though, it doesn’t feel like a horror movie. It’s…something else.
His rocking becomes more intense, steadily building the length of his strokes while the rhythm remains the same. Three inches at a time…then four…then six…then oh, holy hell! Eight! And then…he stops. Pulls back until only that swollen plum remains inside me. His massive right hand comes to my chin, pulls back, bowing me almost in half. He looks down into my teary eyes, half slitted with lust, but focused on him. And then he bottoms himself out in me.
I try to scream, but his mouth comes down over mine, swallowing my protest. His tongue invades my mouth. Weakly, I try to respond, but it’s all I can do; my mind is trying to process the overload of information coming from my completely ruined little boi pussy. Still in lip-lock, he pulls back, almost all the way out, and thrusts again. I am undone. Completely, utterly destroyed.
I told you early on that the idea of kissing men did nothing for me. Just nada. I suppose if it was a really feminine trans person, and maybe if I could pretend, fool myself into ignoring the male part of their identity…but only then. I mean, I’m straight.
Uh huh. Try telling that to the bitch boi on the bed in the cheap hotel, a huge black man with an enormous cock buried in his bottom, while the bull kisses him, fully in command of his body, mind and spirit. Yeah, go convince HIM. Because right now, here…he feels completely right with what is going on.
Only two men have had me like this, Master: First you, and now Clarence. With both experiences fresh in mind, I cannot help but compare the two of you. You are not just my owner, you’re…Daddy. I don’t just mean that in some corny roleplay sense; you own my dedication. You earned my trust and my loyalty long before I knelt in that first hotel room, waiting for you. You snap your fingers, and I’m there. Daddy will always have a special place in my heart and mind.
Clarence, on the other hand, is like a Category 5 hurricane, a tsunami, and an earthquake, all rolling into town at once. The sheer size of that man-cock can change, no, WILL change a person forever. There may be bigger ones out there; I know that. But I feel pretty confident that a bigger one will never visit my boi pussy. You own me, Daddy, but, at least right now, in this night, Clarence has conquered me. I hope that doesn’t hurt you to hear.
Clarence releases me from the kiss. Looking up into his eyes, I speak with a low, husky growl. “Fuck me, Master C. Fuck me. Breed me. I want you to cum in my little white boi pussy. Will you do that, sir? Please?” Clarence doesn’t respond, only smiles. His hands return to my hips, and he begins to pump me deeply. Full, foot-long strokes seem to push at the back of my throat. I have never experienced anything like this, Daddy. I feel like I am being turned inside out; and I may well be down there. That thought should terrify me, but all I can think of, all I can comprehend at the moment is the reality, the stark, hard, hot, painful reality of this mammoth cock plundering me.
I turn back to my image in the mirror, and I’m shocked by the combination of seeing and hearing. My face is wet from tears, my mouth hanging open, and I hear all manner of sounds coming from me. Yes, it is still painful; all the oil in the world can’t change that. So there are yelps and cries. Yes, it feels good; your girth means my prostate is being perpetually rubbed, creating an unending whirlwind of pleasure that distorts my reality; I’ve never had a drug or drink that so befuddled my mind. So there are moans and groans of pleasure. Yes, it is scary; I half expect that my insides are going to burst or something; a new organ has just been placed inside me. So there are cries of alarm. And yes, it is emotional; at any moment, I’m afraid I’m going to profess love for this man, when in reality I should just speak it directly to his magnificent cock. Later. When it is done with me.
Clarence comes down on my back, and I buckle into the bed. I’ve watched a number of “prone bone” porn scenes, and I’ve always imagined being on top of a beautiful woman doing that. Now, I’m in her place, and it feels so good, so intimate. His hands come around and under my shoulders, hooking on top, giving him leverage and control, and his pumping of my boi pussy gets even harder.
I don’t even think I’m conscious of the fact that I’m coming at first. With all of this going on, my focus isn’t on my own cock; I’m only barely aware of its existence. Pretty funny for a straight guy, right? But somewhere in the midst of all of this, A surge of pleasure runs through me, an electric tingle, as if I were laying on a bare wire, running just below my little cocklet.
“Ahhhhh! Master! I’m…I’m going to come, sir! Please, sir! Keep fucking me! Come in me, sir! Breed your bitch! AHHHH!” Beneath me, I feel a puddle of my own cum forming, pooling beneath my cock. Every one of Clarence’s thrusts correlates to a slide of my little boi clit on the sheet in the warm puddle, which in turn just deepens and widens the pool of sticky warm wetness. I catch a sight of myself in the mirror, and I notice that even with my undeniably male features, my face looks like that of an amateur woman in a porn film having a REAL orgasm.
My orgasm doesn’t end; it just changes from a crashing wave into a tsunami, pushing on and on towards shore. Twitches and spasms inside me mean his cock is getting a massage to go with the fuck, and it gets to him, pulls him over the edge.
“FUCK! I’m gonna cum in your ass, baby! Gonna breed that big white ass! Gonna put my seed WAY up inside you. You’re gonna feel Clarence for a LONG time. Fuck! Your ass feels SO good! Here it comes, my little bitch!”
Reaching back, I place my arm around Clarence’s neck, pulling him down closer to the side of my face. I turn to him, look him in the eyes and say, “Fuck me, Master. Fuck that ass like you own it. Fuck it full of your baby juice. Fuck it so hard I can’t walk without thinking of you. Please?”
My words have the effect I wanted, as my big black bull begins to batter me unmercifully. I encouraged this, but it still pushes painful cries from my lips, and tears from my eyes. My hand is still behind his head, and I feel his breath hot on my neck and shoulder as he rounds the final curve and heads for the finish line. Like the thoroughbred stallion that he is, he gives his all, his hardest run down this home stretch. I suspect my poor ass will hurt for a week. Hopefully this night won’t end with an embarrassing trip to the E.R. But there’s no time for worrying about that; I have a stud that needs my attention.
Clarence is grunting hard, then breaks into a roar as he begins to cum inside me. He continues to pump through the first two bursts, and I feel my insides getting lathered with his thick seed. He gives a heroic plunge to the hilt, and continues to fill me up with spurt after spurt, pulse after pulse.I do my best to squeeze and milk him, but I don’t know how effective I am, considering how stretched out he has me.
His full weight on me should be crushing, but somehow, I just feel…safe. He is softly kissing my neck, my shoulders, my ears. Slowly, his cock softens, and then shortens a bit, but it does not withdraw; there simply isn’t room for it to go anywhere, and neither of us are in a rush for it to leave me, anyway.
*****
Later, Clarence takes me yet again. This time, it is a slower, even more intimate experience. With Daddy, it is about the control, the submission, my surrender of my masculinity. With Clarence, it is like he has fucked a bit of femininity into me. In spite of his size, both overall and his amazing endowment between his legs, Clarence is more tender, even passionate. This time he takes me in a missionary position. No need for a mirror; now he’s looking directly into my eyes as he takes me, sees my eyes pop open, my mouth open in an open cry, sees me holding my legs open for him even through the pain. He witnesses the shock on my face as he pushes deep, his well-oiled cock sliding slowly but unceasingly inward until I feel his balls hit my lower back. He sees me bite my lip as he begins to withdraw, my shoulders quaking at the sense of loss as he nears my entrance, then he watches as my eyes roll back in my head as he pushes back in.
And I…I look up into his handsome dark face, strong features. Eyes full of concern and heat and desire and passion. A smile pulling at the corner of your mouth when you see my face as you push inward, penetrating my very soul with that magnificent cock of his. And a confidence of a lover very sure of his ability to master his partner’s pleasure.
And that is confidence well-deserved. Having already deposited two heavy loads of cum into me, he is in no danger of spilling a third soon. A sense of alarm comes to me early on as he takes me this time; Clarence isn’t just fucking me. I get the feeling he is trying to fuck the straight completely out of me. Up to this point, everything has been tied up in the purely sexual realm. Sure, he was kind to me when he was fucking me before, but this…this is far more intimate. It’s as if Clarence is trying to make me fall in love with him, or at least with his cock. Deep strokes to my core, looking into my eyes. Kisses he holds even as he drives into me, capturing my moans in his mouth, kissing them back into me for the next thrust, amplifying it.
I feel like I should stop him, or at least say something to him. “Clarence, please don’t make this into something more. I enjoy being with you; you’re the most man someone could ever hope for. But I’m straight, Clarence. This to me is just about the sex. It’s about the mental rush of submission to Daddy, to you. It won’t be anything more than that. I’m straight, sir. Straight as an arrow. Tomorrow I will go home to my wife and my kids, and this will just be a dirty little secret I keep hidden away. It isn’t who I am. I’m straight; don’t fall in love with me.”
That’s how it should go, and that’s how it goes in my head. And the emphasis on the word straight, every time I say it…that’s for Clarence’s sake. That’s to make sure it is clearly defined; I want him to understand that. I’m telling him that.
Right?
Yeah, that’s what I should tell him. It’s not exactly how it came out of my mouth, though; not word for word, anyway. It sounded a little different.
“Oh, fuck, Master! Your cock feels so good in my little pussy! Oh, fuck me, you magnificent beast! I want your cum deep inside me, baby! Breed me deep!”
You see the similarity, right? Yeah, me too.
With my legs around his lower back, my arms around his broad shoulders, fingers lightly stroking at the back of his neck, I’m kissing Clarence with absolutely no shame. My cock is hard between us, flopping around with each thrust, but right now, it is inconsequential. My world is centered a foot inside my boi pussy, where his big cockhead is battering into the back of my soul.
Finally, this magnificent man begins to submit to the sensations of my ass milking him. I’ve been meeting his thrusts, squeezing at his deepest point, relaxing as he cycles in and out. He begins to get erratic, and his huge balls pull up tight against him as he prepares to fill his little slut again. My fingers clutch now at his muscular back. If I had nails, they’d be digging tracks right now. Between us, I feel my own little clit/dick begin to twitch, but I pay it little mind. Clarence is panting as he feels his orgasm approaching.
“Yes, Clarence. Cum in me, baby! Fill me! Give me that cum! That’s MY cum in your balls! Fuck it into me!” I gasp to him.
And with that last little encouragement, Clarence hammers home his own claim on me. Again and again, he thrusts and spasms, thrusts and spasms, thrusts and spasms. My ankles cross and lock behind him, pulling him into me each time, as if he needed help reaching my hot core with his baby batter.
As he regains his breath, his head next to mine, I turn and plant kisses on him, on his neck, on the ridge of toned muscle from his shoulder, and along his jawline. He pulls back slightly, and looks at me. Looking into his eyes, knowing this is an incredibly risky thing to do, considering the concerns I had earlier, I kiss him fully on the lips, our tongues coming out to duel.
And then he pulls back, breaking the kiss, and fucks up my world.
“I love you, baby.”