Kevin's Place

I'm a late 40s married guy that also likes using boys hard. I've been top, bottom, and versatile, and top is definitely the way to go. I love men that like to talk dirty, and I think that words are hotter than pictures, and words with pictures are a hundred times hotter than either. There is no way in hell that this blog is safe for work or anyone under the age of majority. Sorry, kids, but you have no business here.

I love receiving notes and pictures from guys that like my blog, especially submissive guys that like me talking dirty back at them

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tagged/kevin
My Stories & Articles.

It's great to be a top because...

The Things We Do For Love. (On the emotional nature of the Dom/sub relationship.)
Finding the Fagg.
Maintaining Your Fagg.
(Pt.1&2 of a titilating parody.)
Rapture of Service. (Post series on what a dominant male tries to provide his sub.)
Series on Punishment as Reward.

A Few of My Favourite things
My Boy slaveandy.
My Boy travis.

My pits
Torath's NSFW.
Jaybo's Dudes.
Gabriel's Gear.
fag for real ALPHA Men.
fagg-it.

My Amazon Wish List

Visits since Feb 14, 2012.
Posts I Like
Posts tagged "kevstory"

My tumblr hit a 100k page loads this week. In thanks for your interest, a vignette from a current work in progress.

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With everyone else, including his room-mate, still in classes, the dorm was quiet when Tyler got back to his apartment. He was sick of essays and study, so he tossed his papers on the desk and stripped, tossing his clothes aside carelessly and making a bee-line for the bathroom. He took a long, hot, shower to try to relax and take his mind off Seong. He slowly raised the temperature and let the water pound on his shoulders until his skin was raw and he’d filled the bathroom with steam. When he finished drying, he was overheated, so he retreated to his bedroom and opened the window slightly to the crisp winter air then slipped into bed and threw the blankets back to enjoy the breeze kissing his body. The sheets were cool to the touch, and he let himself relax, closing his eyes and letting his mind clear. He lay quietly for a few minutes sorting through about a hundred random things, from classes and career, to Seong. His cock twitched.

A breeze tickled him, making him aware of his skin and causing him to run his hand down his chest and belly, enjoying the smoothness under his hands, with just a hint of stubble here-and-there because he hadn’t shaved in a couple of days. He wondered if Seong had chest hair, deciding it was probably naturally smooth from his Korean heritage, or possibly carrying a fine soft down. He pictured the soft bronze skin surrounding Seong’s rich brown eyes when he’d helped Tyler to his feet the other day. Tyler ran his hand over his chin, feeling the stubble that had already begun to form in the few short hours since his shave. He moved his hand up to feel his damp hair, short cut, blonde, fine, uniform in every respect, he never had to do anything but dry it. He figured it must be a pain to have hair like Seong, always sticking out in a dozen different directions, yet there was something—alive about it. Dark, silky black, completely out of control, but framing his face in a way that drew attention to it like Tyler’s never would. He pictured the mysterious mark on the back of Seong’s neck; it had to be a tattoo, calling attention to the skin, challenging the viewer to notice the smooth coppery canvas it decorated.

Tyler opened his eyes and pulled the pillow up under his head so he could look down at the body he’d inherited from his Slavic ancestors, skin, pale, his slight tan of last summer nearly gone, unmarked in any way, plain. He looked at his cock, slightly darker than his belly, with a darker ring where he’d been cut. He wondered if Seong had a foreskin. He’d always wanted a foreskin, coveting one of his own whenever he thought about them or noticed one in the change room or showers. He ran his hand up the length of his semi-hard cock, pulling the skin up to try, unsuccessfully, to cover the head. It worked, kind-of, when he was soft, but with even a semi he could barely manage to cover a third of the head. He pictured it fully enveloped, warm and concealed as nature intended, plenty of loose skin left over the top, soft and silky.

He closed his eyes again, his right hand taking a firmer hold of his now lengthening cock and began to massage, the left gripping the skin at the base, shaved as smooth as his chest except for a small, carefully trimmed, patch above. He squeezed the base and massaged the shaft, imagining his ex-girlfriend was giving him an all-too-rare blow job. The image shifted and he pictured Seong’s lips, full, rich, and dark, turning up at the corners in a sly smile when he looked back in class this morning. He removed his left hand and brought it up to run the tips of his fingers over his own lips. His right hand gripped tighter, stroking, rubbing pre-cum up over the sensitive head, sticky, slippery, friction sending shivers up his spine. From Seong’s mouth his tongue barely emerged to run across his bottom lip as it had in the hall earlier. His left hand gripped the base again, squeezing under his balls, his right pumping faster, sweat beading on his forehead. His breath became more rapid and shallow, synchronizing with the slapping sound. The imagined tongue stuck out further, running down his chest, across his belly. He squeezed his thighs together tightly, his sac shrinking and pulling up toward him, his hand flying faster and faster as he pictured the tongue running over the head of his cock, leaving a shiny trail of spit behind. His balls pulled in tight, the skin taught and firm, he grunted and froze, holding his breath as his balls and cock spasmed and went off like a gun, shot after shot of hot cum streaking his chest and belly with hot liquid. His breath flew out in a rapid sigh, deflating his straining lungs, and his whole body relaxed as a warm feeling spread slowly throughout.

He lay there for a couple of minutes, letting lethargy take over, until the cool air began to create goose pimples on his arms and chest. He stirred himself long enough to grab his underwear from the floor beside his bed and clean up, then pulled the quilt over his body and fell into a deep, dreamless sleep.

When I come through the door, andy is waiting on his knees, naked, blindfolded, head bowed, just as I told him to be. The slight twitch of his head and shiver betrays that heard me move. I put my hand on the back of his neck and press him forward into a crouch, his ass naked, exposed. I slide my hand under his chin and grip his throat, turning his face toward me. I lean close and slide the cane across his back, ass, thighs, whispering in his ear, “This is going to hurt, slave, not as much as I’d like it to, but enough to get me through the night.”

He swallows, his adam’s apple pulsing under my fingers, and whispers “Yes, Sir.”

I strike, quickly, firmly, relishing the twitch in his throat as he tries unsuccessfully to suppress a gasp. The blows are hard and fast, reddening his once-creamy flesh to a brilliant bloom in seconds. He is as still as he can be; not perfectly, for the pain is too much, but better than any boy I’ve ever caned before. And as hard, his dick sticking straight out under his naked body, oozing a trail of pre-cum onto the floor. I fill with pride and pleasure that I’ve brought him so far that my pleasure can bring him such pleasure.

Tears are seeping from behind the blindfold, his face covered in sweat. I toss the cane aside and open my fly, tugging my cock out of my pants without removing them, my clothing rubbing harshly against this raw, naked flesh. I grab his shoulders and plunge inside furiously, hard, rough, just the way he likes it. The heat of his red flesh spurs me to greater urgency as I use his ass for my pleasure. He squeezes me, milking me, giving me his all while drawing his own pleasure form my use. My cock is on fire inside him, swelling and rubbing, the friction spreading heat through both of us, Our breathing shortens and speeds up in unison as we fly toward the edge. “Not yet, boy” I caution.”

My boy knows me well. Knows how much it pleases me to delay his pleasure. He needs to go off, but waits, like the slave he is, for Sir’s pleasure, biting his lips and locking his muscles to keep himself from spilling too soon. It’s hurting him to delay, I feel the tension in his guts as he squeezes at me in desperation, using ever trick he knows to get me to cum. I intensify my strokes, pushing harder and lifting him when I bottom out, knowing how much it hurts him, how good it hurts him. I ponder if it will be more fun to punish him for cumming too soon, or to let him off tonight. Before I can decide, fate takes the choice, I feel him slipping over the edge and convulsing as he sprays on the floor under us. I let myself go, flooding his ass before he can finish, but far enough behind that he knows there’s no getting out of it today. He’s in trouble.

I slip out of him, panting, and reach for the cane. He gives a slight sob of mingled fear and pleasure as I slide it across his back again.

(Inspired by slaveandy)

If you haven’t already seen it, you may wish to read Dominating a Fagg: Part One - Finding the Fagg

If you are reading this, presumably you have acquired a fagg, and are interested in getting the most out of your new possession. Once you have clearly identified and made the fagg yours, it’s important to perform a little routine maintenance in order to get the longest and best possible use out of it before replacing it. While the fagg may not be as inherently valuable as something like an Xbox, mp3 player, or even a good cigar, it nevertheless can be costly and time-consuming to replace. You once again face the risks associated with identifying a new fagg, and there can be significant inconvenience in going without while you acquire a new one. It is, therefore, best to avoid any chance of it going wild and becoming tempted to look for another Man to serve, or failing early due to inadequate maintenance. It is essential to remember that unlike Men, a fagg has no natural inclination to participate in sports or get regular exercise or sex to help sublimate its tensions. While they really only have a couple of muscles that are useful, you need to keep them exercising and active or you may face all kinds of health and behavioural problems in the future. Through all of this, you have to remember the key point, that the fagg needs to serve you, and it will be most happy and useful if you allow it to serve via more than simply opening its holes to you.

While having your cock buried balls-deep in a fagg’s ass or throat is satisfying, the early stages of maintaining your fagg can be quite difficult and annoying. Unless you are taking on an experienced fagg, it won’t always have the intellect to understand your requirements immediately. The first stages of isolating it from society for its safety can be confusing and frustrating for both of you, as the fagg struggles to understand that it can’t just go around talking to humans and deciding what to say or eat. It may forget that is no longer posing as a Man, and may actually stand at urinals beside Men, forcing them to take a chance on seeing its pathetic junk. You also may find its initial excitement at being permitted to serve a Man may lead to poor control, and can manifest in such mistakes as the fagg unexpectedly peeing on the floor. Unlike most animals, rubbing the fagg’s nose in its piss as a correction is frequently counterproductive, as it is as likely as not to simply become more excited at having piss on it, leaving you with piss and cum to clean up.

In these early stages it will still be confused by years of hiding its nature among Men. It needs to unlearn years, or even decades of bad habits like jerking off for pleasure. Despite its best intentions, during those initial days, the fagg can be easily set back by accidentally playing with itself. You’ll need to discourage it from touching itself for a while, which can be assisted by requiring it to sit when it needs to urinate. This reminder that it should have no reason to touch its prick is particularly effective in the semi-public environment of gyms and open-stall public toilets, where expecting the fagg to sit with its legs spread wide as it urinates has the added advantage of offering it a little of the public humiliation that it craves so deeply.

You should not underestimate the importance to your fagg of family and friends. They play a pivotal role in every life, and the fagg needs to understand where you fit within that relationship. When you first take on a fagg, you will need to ease into things. Start by encouraging the fagg to invite its friends and family over for a meal. When they have arrived, and been made comfortable, you may find that the fagg becomes anxious about whether its service will be noticed or that you may be annoyed by its family and chose to get rid of it. To allay some of its concerns, you can excuse yourself and the fagg to tend to things. At this point, allow the fagg to open its fly so that you can jerk a load of fresh cum inside its pants to help it remember your smell and feel during the meal. In addition to helping transition the fagg to full-time service, such a social function also gives you an opportunity to assess the suitability of its family members as casual sex partners, and to get a feel for how much money the family has for filling your later needs. Be very careful about fucking the fagg’s parents. That should be reserved for places where the fagg won’t find out, to reduce the chance of resentment on the fagg’s part. Under no circumstances should you let the fagg see you fucking its dad, as it will almost certainly become jealous of both of you, leading to a huge scene and threats of suicide.

If the fagg is going to feel safe and comfortable, it will need to you to take charge. Have it give you all its passwords, so you can change them for its safety, otherwise it won’t know when it’s OK to do things like reply to emails, update its family via Facebook, or ask them for more money. It can be tempting to have it work on your dick while you’re online chatting with its sister or mom, but you should avoid that, at least at the beginning. To keep things going smoothly, you may need it to answer questions in a hurry when you’re chatting with its family, and there’s no point interrupting a blowjob so it can tell you what the fuck its mom is whining about, or what you (acting as the fagg) should say next to get the sister to think you give a fuck so she’ll call you up and offer to put out on the weekend. It can be annoying to spend so long without your dick in it, but that part will get easier, as eventually you’ll have gotten tired of nailing the various family members, and you’ll finish getting what you can financially from its family so that you can just break off all contact with them.

When taking control of a fagg for your use, there are a whole new set of considerations to take into account when acquiring new possessions. While the broom won’t give you any trouble if you replace it with a vacuum cleaner, nor the sink or dishrag when you get an automatic dishwasher, acquiring such equipment once you have a fagg will take on a whole new set of potential problems. The fagg may be jealous of the other equipment, and worried that you are considering selling or donating it to a charity shop. If you are fortunate, this will manifest as renewed determination the slave’s part to fill your needs, but, as often as not, you will need to make some adjustments to keep the fagg running smoothly. Such equipment will free up some of its time, and to compensate for that, you may be forced to fuck it a few more times a week, or at least allow it to give you a handful of extra blowjobs, to keep it from getting bored and out of sorts. Added correction will likely be necessary, and this is a good opportunity to remember that the fagg likes to be hit and used roughly. Presumably by now you’ll have figured out whether it responds better to a back-hand to the face, knee to the balls, or a kidney punch, and can correct appropriately. You can also improve the introduction of new equipment into the home by allowing the fagg to use it, thus giving it an opportunity to imagine that it is in control of the new equipment, and possibly even more valuable than the other property, as unlikely as that may be.

At the earliest convenience, you should simplify the fagg’s life by having it turn over access to its bank account and credit cards. Taking care of its money is often a difficult task for faggs, and trying to do so while properly serving a Man is likely to result in it wasting money on things other than your wants, so getting early control of its finances frees it from having to worry about your bills if ends up out of town or hospitalized for a while because it forced you to be aggressive in correcting its behaviour. Having you in direct control of its accounts also frees it from having to worry when about its parents wondering why it always wants cash instead of a cheque when they are helping out.

Early in the fagg’s training, it may make a few mistakes. After being sent to buy snacks or beer, occasionally, it may get confused (from being allowed to associate freely with Men in the past) and it may ask for money. While this can’t be tolerated in the long run, when there are other people around, you need to maintain your cool for its sake. Having to be corrected in front of others can set back its training. Give the fagg a light cuff on the back of the head, as you scuffle your hand through its hair like it’s a dog, then say something like “yeah, like money’s what you want” and then walk away. Of course, if you are alone with it, it won’t be so worried about making a mess in front of others, so you can simply drag it into the tub, or a safe, easily cleaned corner, and piss on it, saying “Here’s your ‘money’, fagg.” As it shows better and better responses to the correction, you can reward it by prying its jaw open and spitting in its mouth.

One powerful way to keep your fagg motivated is to remind it that it gets your cock only because you permit it. If it’s been giving you any trouble, deny it your cock. Allow it to watch while you jerk off without letting it touch. As much as it may pain you to deny it in this way, you have to be firm. If you weaken and let it suck your load out, it will not have learned the lesson properly and will feel disappointed in itself for days afterward, affecting its operation. If it seems to take well to the correction, you can be a hero by letting it lick your cum up off the floor, or suck it out of its shirt afterward. Aside from such correction, allowing the fagg to act as a cum rag any time you want to jerk off in general, will help your actual cum rags last a little longer between washing. You may even be able to do away with them altogether except a few as security rags when you have to leave the fagg by itself overnight.

You can save money by having the fagg buy everything for you. You can save more of its money for things you want by letting it substitute. A perfect example, as long as it’s good at keeping its mouth clean, you can let it clean your ass and then it only needs enough toilet paper for itself. If particularly short of cash you can do away with toilet paper altogether and have it wipe itself with its hands and lick itself clean.

The fagg is going to need constant reinforcement that it is adequate to serve you. Faggs are generally insecure, and will need steady acknowledgement by you that they are being useful. A constant sharing of you cum and piss will go a long way toward helping it understand that it is being useful. You can easily make your day to day life a part of this maintenance. If you’re big into online gaming, or like watching movies and sports, you can cut down on time lost to breaks by having it crouch between your legs and hold your cock in its mouth throughout, so you can piss without interrupting your activities.

You can both reward the fagg and get a bit more sleep by having the fagg sleep on the floor near your bed most night, so if you need to piss at night it is close at hand. The floor should be easy for it to clean, because if the fagg is slow to get up when you need to piss in the night (or just because you want to), it is will expect you to hold it down by putting your foot on its throat or face then piss all over it and its bedding.

When caring for your fagg, remember that it has a powerful need to be humiliated. There are some specific things you can do to fill that need and help keep it working smoothly.

There will be times when you have to have people present who don’t understand how badly the fagg needs to serve you. You will have to train it to pretend it is a person during those times, to avoid others asking it questions that may cause it anxiety. Faggs can easily start to feel lost during the times when you have people over and it is unable to directly serve you constantly. When you have guests in front of whom the fagg is not permitted to serve, make sure that it gets at least one bottle of your piss at some point during the night, so it understands that even though you aren’t using it visibly, you still understand its needs.

Once you’ve decided that you’ve got all you can out of its family and friends, plan a special supper to start the practice of isolation. When the meal is ready, pull its plate aside to get it “that special sauce it likes.” Return the plate a few minutes later with a nice load on top of the meal. Make sure you bring it close enough to the guests that they can smell your special sauce. As you set it down, comment “Sorry it took so long, but it always takes a while to get it up when I’m surrounded by faggs.”

Once in a while, when you let it lay on on the floor while you’re watching TV or gaming, press your foot hard against the fagg’s groin and allow it to hump itself against your foot until it cums. It’s perfectly fine to look disgusted while it’s doing so, but try not to kick it in the balls hard more than a couple of times a month or it may start to limp and other people will ask it embarrassing questions.

Like women, faggs respond well to surprise treats. There are some treats that are easy and inexpensive to provide for your fagg:

  • Every once in a while, while the fagg is sleeping, be nice and take a few minutes of your time to jerk off and spray cum on its sleeping face and pillow. It will especially appreciate it if you can land some in its nose or eyes.
  • Let it buy itself a gift. It may get special joy if you permit it to buy itself a butt plug to wear to work or when it has a family dinner, or, if you are feeling really generous, let it buy itself a cage for its pathetic prick, so it won’t have to worry about getting hard and making a mess on the furniture when you’re out.
  • After you fill the fagg’s ass with a load, you’ll typically want to have it clean up before leaving for work, but if you do so all the time, you’ll just be causing resentment. Once in a while, say on casual Fridays in its workplace, Allow the fagg to keep your cum inside it all day to remind itself that it has actually found a real Man that is willing to fuck it. It will get hot all day knowing that while it is talking to co-workers and bosses your hot load is cooking inside it or running down its legs.
  • if you’re fagg has been particularly good, or perhaps for its birthday, give it a special weekend by consuming nothing but eggs, beer and popcorn and allowing it to spend the night with its face against your ass. Being allowed to be near a Man’s stinking ass will leave it in ecstasy.

Regular, unexpected, facials are ideal for helping the fag feel connected to the Man that is using it. A surface application of cum to its face has a variety of benefits, from reinforcing the smell of the Man (through activation of its humiliation lobe) to refreshing and invigorating its complexion. While this is difficult to carry out in public, the creative top can soon find a number of public or semi-public places where he can push the fagg to its knees long enough to dump a quick load on its face. An added bonus to this is that keeping a careful eye out for strangers that look like they want to lick you fagg’s face will give you some possibilities if you ever need to replace it quickly or augment its service.

Don’t be stingy with your fagg. Share. If your buddy is sick, send the fagg over to give him a blowjob and maybe clean up the place and do a little shopping for him. You’ll be helping your buddy and making your fagg feel more useful. Just remember that if you’re going to share your fagg with a sick buddy, you’re being really generous, ‘cause you’ll want to do without for a couple of weeks until it gets better, or you’re sure it hasn’t picked anything up.

Your fagg will be in constant fear that it might do something that makes you look bad, causing you to toss it out for a new one. One way to overcome part of that is to get rid of all of its old clothes, keeping only those things that are completely drab and dull, or that compliment your existing wardrobe, or that you will be wearing yourself. By making it unappealing, you will be showing your fagg that you aren’t planning to sell it.

One of the easiest ways to cater to a fagg’s incessant need for humiliation is to occasionally permit it the privilege of serving other Men. An excellent option is to locate a bar or club that will accept your slave as an additional urinal for the use of any Men on the premises. Failing that, perhaps a private home can be found that is on a busy route and will be willing to permit the fagg to serve as a urinal in the yard or back alley. If you haven’t been careful about doing this from the start, you may find that the fagg has the misguided notion that it serves you solely, and/or, may even think it has some control over who it serves. If corrective punishment doesn’t clear that up immediately, you can tell it that the alternative is that it will be expected to serve females orally. That is usually enough to cause any fagg to gag and immediately cease all disobedience.

Faggs can be quite needy, and a regular dose of bondage and hard sex helps them to relax and be more comfortable in their role. The excitement of fear and pain will go a long way toward raising their heart rate and respiration, especially important for faggs that are incapable of participating in sports and athletics. The calming benefits of oxygen deprivation are especially handy in keeping it relaxed for easy penetration. While your fagg will probably want to be strangled regularly, and there is great benefit to the fagg in permitting it to pass out from lack of oxygen a few times a month, allowing it to do so too often can have an undesirable effect on intelligence that may render it unfit to serve.

We all have a tendency to get slack with our faggs, and there is a real danger of this leading to them figuring out that it is possible for them to cum simply by playing with themselves. That can lead to all kinds of problems like surliness and dereliction of duty. Soon you’ll find faggs running around in the street with dildos in their ass pumping their pricks and spraying their filth on car tires and fire hydrants.

It’s important to remember that it should never have a hard cock unless it’s because a Man is fucking its throat or ass. No matter how good it is at chores, waving its hard fagg-prick around should never be allowed. If the fagg can’t control its dirty prick and can’t afford to buy itself a chastity device, you may need to give it a few swift kicks in its pathetic balls before it learns to keep its prick under control.

Faggs must not start to imagine that they hold a special place in your home or heart. It will make them terribly insecure if they think that you care about anything but their holes and what they can do for you. Faggs have been known to become despondent and commit suicide over fear that a Man had been ruined into thinking it had some inherent value.

One essential part of Maintaining Your Fagg is making sure it understands that it is simply a convenient set of holes and a servant. One of the best ways to make sure it doesn’t start to think it holds some special place is to befriend a local prison guard. Then, on an as-needed basis, you can turn your fagg over (with others of its kind) for temporary use by the guards and by inmates that are getting aggressive during their incarceration. The prison gets a lowering of tensions within the confines, you get to deliver an important lesson to your fagg that helps it feel better about itself, and the guards and inmates get a chance to blow off some steam and testosterone on a target that won’t complain or sue the system over excessive force. A win for everyone!

At the end of the day, it’s important to remember that you are doing the fagg a favour when you permit it to serve you. The fagg has an overwhelming need to feel useful. That comes naturally for the Man, who is useful simply by virtue of letting faggs and women have access to his cock and cum and by allowing them to do things for him. It’s much more difficult for a fagg to find a place in the world. Society understands the woman who needs to serve a Man, but doesn’t really give a fuck about the fagg’s similar need. In most settings, even if it finds a place to serve, perhaps as a faceless, numbered cog in some corporate machine, there will be no sense of worth for the fagg. Finding a Man that is willing to let it do what it needs to do, and who will appreciate it properly by expecting more, can be an enormous relief to the fagg, bordering on a religious experience. Allowing the fagg to have your cock in its throat or cunt is perhaps the greatest thing of which a Man is capable.

You are a Man. Each time you kick a fagg in the nuts or deliver a kidney punch to provide correction, every time you allow a fagg to choke on your cock until it passes out; and each time you not only allow a fagg to have your precious load in its dirty cunt, but even allow it to put its stinking mouth on your dick afterward to clean it off, you are proving that you are among the very best of the best. The sheer generosity of letting a fagg serve your needs is a priceless gift, and Men who allow faggs to touch and care for them deserve to be worshipped for their selfless gift to the world.

The above article is parody, and not intended to offer real advice. It is Copyright 2012 by Kevin Shea. Tumblr users are free to repost it on tumblr.com as long as they keep the entire article intact, including this disclaimer and notice of copyright. You are expressly forbidden from altering the article or presenting it as coming from another person. For any uses of this article, outside of tumblr.com reblogs, please contact me for permission at i.like.it.rough@gmail.com

(Inspired by slaveandy)

Watch for the follow-up article, Maintaining Your Fagg, coming later in February 2012.

This essay presupposes there are two kinds of people in the world:
1) Those who fuck (Men)
2) Those who get fucked

Women are pretty easy to categorize in this. Almost all of them like to get fucked, and the only thing you need to be good at is figuring out:
    a) at what stage they are of receptivity, and
    b) what is the best angle of approach.

For men, though, there is more involved as they need to first be separated out into:
    a) Men (Males who like to fuck), and
    b) Faggs.

Since trying to fuck a fellow Man leads to a lot of pain and grief for everybody, telling them apart is an essential skill.

If you’re a Man, and fortunate enough to be able to tell a fagg at a glance, your life is easy. Any time you spot a fagg, it will certainly want you to use it, so you’ve got it made. If, on the other hand, you aren’t able to tell every fagg at a glance, you need to know and understand the signs. Faggs, by nature, need to serve Men, and they are constantly throwing off signs that work together to tell you if you’ve found a good fuck. Some of the signs are present all the time, while others will need to be encouraged through the use of bait. It’s important, when baiting a potential fagg, to remember that the key is escalation. Even a full-on fagg won’t want to be seen as too easy, and will be afraid that you’re just a fellow fagg interested in exposing it in order to remove it from competition. Moving too quickly is likely to drive it in to hiding and cause you more work in the long run. You need to identify it, then slowly cultivate it, working toward the day when it finally understands just how lucky it is, as you take its ass and truly make it yours.

When identifying a fagg, it helps to remember that faggs need to serve men who like to fuck, and they really can’t help themselves, it frequently causes them to give themselves away. In general, if you’re a guy who likes to fuck, spotting the Fag is going to be easy. Faggs will be drawn toward you, and will have trouble resisting you, making the whole thing smoother and faster.  It will constantly be looking for reasons to be near you, to help you, and especially an opportunity to touch a man that likes to fuck. Some key markers are

  • In Public:

Brushing against you in passing, when there was lots of room to avoid it. When passing in hallways and public spaces, the fagg is always looking for Men of breeding age, and will take every available opportunity to get a good sniff at a guy to see if it can detect Man pheromones.

Sitting close enough that its legs end up touching yours, especially if your skin is exposed, so that it can imagine you are actually touching it on purpose. In extreme cases, the fagg will shiver whenever its clothes or skin come in contact with yours.

Sitting at your feet, so that it’s shoulders touch your knee or thigh. Often it can’t resist the urge to let its fingers brush against your feet, socks, or footwear, in an attempt to imagine what it would be like if you ground your foot against its fagg junk or kicked it.

If you are uncertain whether the touch is accidental, or a fagg touch, you can often trap it by feigning sleep to see if it sniffs at you or licks you. If it is desperate enough, you may, by feigning that you are passed out, be able to get it to dry-hump your leg in a desperate attempt to imagine you allowed it to serve you.

In social situations, if you actually have to move a few inches to grab a handful of chips, or a piece of pizza, the fagg will leap up, even from the other side of the room, to get it for you, frequently using it as an excuse to sit near your feet in hopes of physical contact. You can also try inviting it to a party, and asking it to supply the booze, then see if it actually asks for some money. Or have booze at the party, but not enough. The fagg will always give itself away by offering to go get more, and in both cases will bring back lots extra in hopes of being treated as one of the guys.

If you have a pretty good idea that you’ve spotted a fagg, but are not certain, once you’ve had a few, fling your leg over the dude, and rest your foot on its groin. If he’s a Man, he’ll do something like give you the finger and push you off, saying things like “Just cause your girlfriend likes wearing a gas mask doesn’t mean the rest of us do.” On the other hand, If it’s a fagg, it will probably get a hard-on, and press back. If it’s particularly desperate, it may start massaging your foot.

When offering to make sure you get home after you’ve had a couple too many, the fagg always gives itself away by supporting you more than the bare minimum to get you home. It may “accidentally” rub its nose in your armpit or groin, or lick you. If you act really drunk, and call it by a girl’s name and mention head, the fagg can’t resist giving you a blowjob which it will use as a fantasy to jerk off to for the rest of its life.

Faggs that find a Man passed out will often try to cop just a little sniff, but they can never resist another, and another, and soon they end up cumming in their pants and fall asleep from exhaustion. If you wake up after heavy partying and find a dude’s face in your pits, crotch or ass, look for signs of cum on it’s crotch, or drool on yours.

A dude that likes to rough-house, but somehow always ends up on the bottom is probably a fagg. It is probably using you, by mentally masturbating to the thought that you are actually fucking it, rather than just fighting with it. Pay careful attention during and after wrestling for prick twitching, adjusting when it gets up, wet spots on its groin, or a glazed look and drool running from its mouth.

  • Semi-Private (Men’s Room, Pools, Gyms etc.)

There are several indicators of a fagg that happen in the men’s room, but many of them are difficult to catch, as the fag becomes good at hiding its need at an early age.

Standing at a closer urinal than is appropriate in a men’s room. This can be an especially good clue if it is the kind that normally sits in the stall to piss, and it is obvious it is only standing because of the chance to be near you. An easy escalation here is to step back an inch and let your dick get harder. Other Men will simply ignore you and step away, while the fagg will have no choice but to stare, and may start drooling.

If it accidentally bumps into you while you are pissing, it is probably an attempt to get some on itself. You can test this by spraying a little piss across its legs or hands and watch to see the level of anger verses excited embarrassment. You may need to apologize if it was another Man, but really, if the dude is close enough to bump you at the urinal, he’s probably embarrassed anyway so it shouldn’t escalate. On the other hand, if it’s a fagg, having Man piss on it will short circuit its brain and it will be frozen by a wave of pleasure. If the fagg is particularly worked up, getting some of your masculine piss on it may cause it to twitch and cum on the spot.

When walking away from a urinal where a suspected fagg has been hovering, turn around unexpectedly. You can sometimes catch the fagg licking drops of Man piss off the porcelain of the urinal you were at, running its finger across the piss to lick off, or sniffing at the pool of piss in the bottom. Even if it manages to stand quickly, you can often identify them by looking for signs of pubic hair stuck to its lips or nose.

Watch whether the potential fagg makes a habit of going into a stall right after you leave. Sometimes when you shit you leave a streak of sweat or even a little shit on the toilet seat or porcelain. If it tries to use the stall right after you, it may be hoping to lick the back of the toilet seat to catch whatever you left behind. You can often entice them into the trap by regularly forgetting to flush, in order to leave them bait that is difficult for a fagg to resist. A Man who finds a toilet with a log in it will move to another stall, while the fagg will admire it for as long as it thinks it can before flushing it away, or may just sit above it for a few minutes enjoying the stink wafting up between its legs.

Faggs can also be spotted in locker rooms, either before or after sports, or a the gymn or pool. Try leaving sweaty or streaked shorts, or a pair of particularly fetid socks or runners where it can come across them while you step away to shower or piss. You may find they have moved, or have wet spots on them where the fagg has suckled at your stink and taste. In extreme cases, they may have disappeared altogether. You have to remember this is only a short term loss. Think of it as an investment in future fucks.

Ask it to hold your feet while you do situps, then take your shoes and socks off. Once your feet start to get sweaty under its hands, it won’t be able to resist leaning in for a good sniff, and maybe licking its hands. If you have a quiet corner to yourselves, you can escalate here by laying back and sliding your foot up its thighes and belly, then pressing your heel into its crotch as hard as you can while adjusting so that your dick slips out of the leg of your gym shorts. Once the fagg begins to drool and hump your foot, you’re ready to move on.

Set up a dummy email address, then get chummy with the potential fagg and let slip the address and tell it you have a thing for a particular fetish, maybe you “love seeing asses in purple thongs.” The fagg won’t be able to resist getting a hardon at the thought of a Man looking at a picture of it, and you should get your fist photos within a day or two at most. An escalation here, is to leave a printout of the thong-ass by your bed with a puddle of drying cum on it. The fagg is sure to take that as a good sign, and will start looking for new and intersting ways to offer you its ass.

Sometimes faggs will even participate in sports, in an effort to be close to men, and to appear as one of the guys in hopes of getting to touch you. If you suspect a fagg is involved in your game, you can try maneuvering to a point where your sweaty pit is near its face. A fagg can’t resist a sweaty pit, and if pressed hard enough will lose control and will have to stop everything to nuzzle your stink. Once it has your pit-juice on its face, it belongs to you. Be aware, though, that many faggs find deodorant unpleasant, so if you are hoping to catch a fagg this way, you shouldn’t do anything that will cover your natural pit smell.

  • Private (Close quarters)

If you are living in close quarters with the potential fagg, perhaps room-mates, or sharing a barracks or other common area in a business or residence, you have added opportunities for testing. Watch for guys that apologize after you’ve hurt them. You step on their foot in the hall and they say they’re sorry. You bump into them when you’re in a hurry and they say they’re sorry. While trying to make room for your own stuff on the desk you knock theirs on the floor and they say they’re sorry. The fagg is desperately afraid of offending you, since that would reduce the chance of it getting to touch you, smell you, or see you naked.

Leave the bathroom door open when using the toilet. A guy that likes to fuck will generally keep his distance, and tell you to “Close the fucking door and turn on the fan, asshole.” while the fagg will have trouble resisting your scent and whatever glimpses it can get of your body. If you leave it open when showering, it may even be unable to resist the idea that you’re actually trying to give it a show, and will probably end up playing with itself while you’re all wet. When you emerge, watch for puddles or streaks on the floor near the door of the bathroom, or the smell of spunk. Even if you can’t see any evidence, try saying “Christ, it smells like a whorehouse in here. Did you play with yourself?” If the dude is a man that likes to fuck, he’ll probably respond with “In your dreams, homo. If I dropped a load your pillow would be wet.” while the fagg will simply turn red and mutter, and maybe get that look like your dog used to when it pissed on the floor.

Cum is a weak spot for many faggs, and they have a real problem resisting it’s draw. One easy way to identify the fagg is to leave a cum rag laying near your bed, or a pair of dirty shorts that you’ve used to wipe up a load. It may be able to resist once or twice, but if you leave enough bait out, sooner or later it lose control. A particularly effective method is to blast a thick load in your dirty shorts and tell it you’re leaving for a couple of hours, then double back a moment later to see if has gone for the bait. Even if you can’t catch it in the act of sucking the jizz out of the cloth, there may be signs like blobs of fresh cum on it’s nose or lips.

If you have a potential fagg for a room-mate, next time you know it is coming home with a “friend,” or what you think is a “cover-girl,” try being naked when they walk in. A guy who likes to fuck will say something like “Dude! What the fuck?” while the fagg will apologize for not checking if it was ok to come in first. At the same time, keep a close eye on the other people. If the fagg’s friend or cover-girl starts drooling and moves away from the fagg to get closer to you, it’s a pretty good sign that the dude is a fagg. At that point, you can try putting the moves on the other person, and see if the fagg gets angry or excited. As an added bonus with this, you may get to fuck both the friend/cover-girl and the original fagg. If you succeed in this, you’ve struck gold, as faggs are terrific at spotting competition, and you can now send the fagg out to bring back other holes for you. As long as you continue to let it touch you enough that it thinks you care, it will bring you pussy for the rest of your life.

Start calling the potential fagg a stupid nickname when you’re alone and give it orders. Start easy, with things like “Hey, Pussy, grab me a beer.” If the dude is a man who likes to fuck, he’ll probably tell you to “Fuck off and get it yourself, princess.” In that case, you’ll need to back off and reconsider your approach, but if it just turns red and gets you the beer, you’re in solid. If it brings you back two, it’s desperate and hoping you’ll let it drink your piss later.

Check the potential fagg’s computer when it’s not around. If it’s password is your name, or whatever nickname you’ve been calling it, then it’s a fagg for sure.

If the potential fagg offers to do your laundry, there are a couple of things to watch for, rank clothes that take a few extra days to come back clean (it may have been hanging onto them for a few days to sniff and jerk off with at night) socks, underwear and jockstraps that look newer than they should mysteriously appearing in laundry (like they might be newly purchased to replace older items that “vanished”

If your toilet seat and/or the rim are cleaner than the rest of the bathroom it’s a good bet that you have a desperate fagg in the house that is seeking for the taste and smell of Man to satisfy its craving.

Shoes/boots that keep getting moved, or that are suddenly cleaner than normal, or have tongue marks on them, or that appear to have drool inside. There are few things that affect the fagg like Man smell, and used footwear is high on that list.

After being passed out from a night of heavy drinking, you wake up and your feet and toenails are cleaner than normal. The Fagg is incapable of refusing a chance to touch the parts of a Man that smell. Left by itself with an unconscious Man, it can’t resist cleaning his feet.

Try a little tease, something such as a compliment, by saying “You’re almost pretty enough to fuck.” At that point, a guy-who-likes-to-fuck will respond with something like “You should be so lucky, douche-bag, stick to paying for it.”, while the fagg will blush and mumble, and may start dressing more provocatively in hopes that it will actually become pretty enough for you to fuck, or, if it is in particularly bad shape, it may simply drop its pants and bend over on the spot.

There are also some external signs you can watch for, that are viewable when the fagg isn’t at hand. Watch for greasiness or stickiness on your broom handles, or the handles of such things as tennis rackets, golf clubs, and tools like hammers. If you are slow to spot the fagg, it may become so desperate to feel its holes filled that it will start fucking itself with otherwise innocuous household items in order to relieve its need. You have to be careful about letting such things go on too long. Aside from the danger of a fagg thinking that it can get along without a Man to fill it, there are all sorts of risks to your health from a fagg using household items and neglecting to sterilize them afterward..

As you get closer and closer to certainty about the fagg, there are ways to accelerate the vetting process. Because of the danger of triggering a fight with a man who likes to fuck, these need to be used carefully, and only when your level of certainty about the fagg is already quite high. They should be considered equivalent to a final meet and greet with a potential employee, after the fagg has passed all of the initial application and interview processess, primarily used for ensuring that the fagg is of sufficient auality to be worth letting it have your cock and cum. There are few things as wasteful as having to throw out a perfectly good fag because it is a poor match for you.

Try dropping your cumrag on its pillow, or holding it over the fag’s nose and mouth by surprise, preferably while damp, so that you can see if the fagg’s need for man is compatible with your particular pheromones. If it fights you off, it may give you trouble later. If it goes limp and gets a hard-on, you’re good. Just be careful not to stop it from breathing for too long. A dead room-mate, even if it’s just a fagg, will cause trouble.

When it’s walking by, grab it and throw it to the ground, pulling its face into your crotch. Consider the fit. Do you like the feel of its head between your thighs, or is it the wrong size. Too small a head can be overcome by squeezing your legs tighter, but if the fagg’s head is too big, and you will face mild discomfort from having it between your legs over-night, it’s probably not worth bothering.

An acid, final, test is to accidentally cum on it. When you have no real doubt its a fagg, arrange things so it can watch you  jerk off. While it’s watching you, stand up as though to get some fresh porn or something, and “accidentally” spray your load on its face. If you’ve made a gross error and it’s a Man, be prepared for a knock-down, drag-out fight that ends with one of you on the street or in the hospital. But if you’ve done it right, you should have it marked as yours for life. If you aren’t buried balls deep in its throat or gut within 24 hours, you’re doing it wrong.

The above article is parody and intended for humour and titillation, and is not intended to offer real advice. It is Copyright 2012 by Kevin Shea. Tumblr users are free to repost it on tumblr as long as they keep the entire article intact, including this disclaimer and notice of copyright. You are expressly forbidden from altering the article or presenting it as coming from another person, or publishing it anywhere other than a tumblr.com blog without specific permission. For any uses of this article, outside of tumblr reblogs, please contact me for permission at i.like.it.rough@gmail.com

Redheadsub’s Night Out

My boy got 100% on a test and has a birthday coming up when I offered him a treat, this is part of what he asked for.

Kevin sat in his patrol car in the dark, watching distant traffic lights go by and peering into the dark of the nearby trees. It was a quiet spot, between a large park that didn’t get much traffic, and a set of railroad tracks. The road was little more than a pair of tracks in the grass that allowed service vehicles to pass along the railroad. Crossing it was a path out of the park to some homes on the other side of the tracks, used only by handful of kids during the day as a shortcut to the school, and almost never at this time of night. He’d been there about 10 minutes when he finally saw the figure he’d been waiting for. He called out, “Travis! You’re out pretty late, aren’t you?”

The face looked up at him in confusion for moment, then the young man realized who he was seeing. He waved and headed over to the car, “Hi Officer Shea.” He looked around, as though searching for something. “What are you doing way out here?”

Kevin waved him closer to the car. “Actually, I was looking for you.”

“Me, Sir?” Travis asked as he came up to the car window. “I don’t understand. Is there something wrong?”

“No, no. Nothing wrong. Just wanted to say happy birthday. Jim had some of his friends over the other day and they had a bit too much to drink so I had to drag him up to bed. Along the way, he said you had quite the 19th birthday bash.”

Travis looked a little nervous. “uh—yeah. We might have got a bit carried away that night. We partied a bit harder than usual.”

“But not you, though, ‘cause you don’t drink much, right?”  Kevin looked Travis in the eye.

“No, Sir, not too much.”

“But my boy does, right? That what you’re saying, isn’t it” Kevin watched as Travis squirmed uncomfortably.

“Well—umm….”

“So you’re telling me that Jim was probably drunk and confused, and when he said that he woke up to find you sucking his cock, he probably imagined it because he was drunk?”

Travis flushed red, “I—um….”

“And he was probably drunk at school last month when he saw you steal his dirty jock strap in the locker room when he was coming back from the showers, right?”

Travis was completely flustered now. He started backing away from the car, “I think I—have to get home. I—I’d better go….”

Kevin’s land lashed out through the window and grabbed Travis’ by the hair. “I don’t think so, boy, I’m not done talking to you yet.” He kept a hold on Travis through the window as he got out of the car. Once he was out, he swapped hands so he was clear of the window, then pressed Travis against the side of the car. “You stay right here. You hear me?”

Silent and shaking, Travis nodded his head yes. Kevin leaned back into the car and pulled out a camera. He turned it on, then stood beside Travis, flipping through pictures with a soft beep each time he pressed a button. Shortly, he seemed to find what he was looking for, then grabbed Travis by the shoulder, “Turn around!” he pulled him around and looked Travis in the eye again, “Do you think I’m drunk, boy?”

“N—n—no, Sir” Travis was still shaking.

“No? Not even if I say I saw you in the park toilets 20 minutes ago on your knees sucking Ed Thurman’s cock?” Travis, froze, speechless, as Kevin turned the camera toward him. “The light isn’t great in those bathrooms, but still,” The officer hit play, and Travis saw a fairly clear shot of his red hair bobbing up and down in front of Mr. Thurman, whose face you couldn’t see, but who was giving the camera a thumbs-up.

He blushed, knowing at once that anyone who saw it would know it was him. He could see it was near the end. You couldn’t tell from the film, but he remembered. The way the man’s thighs had tightened under his hands. There, where his hands gripped harder behind Travis’s head as he thrust his cock hard into his face. Travis had almost gagged, his throat burning with pain as Mr. Thurman unloaded wave after wave of thick goo into it, coating his tongue with sticky cum. His throat and jaw were still sore, almost half an hour later. The man had wanted to fuck him, but Travis was scared. He’d never been fucked before, and the man was big, so even though he’d actually been hoping for it, Travis was relieved the man didn’t have a condom, and he pretended he didn’t either, so he said they couldn’t.

“You can turn around again.” Kevin used Travis’s shoulder to push him back so he faced the car, then turned off the camera and tossed it onto the front seat. Kevin’s left hand held the hair on the back of of the younger man’s head, while his right slid up the inside of his thighs and under the edge of his shorts. A finger slipped inside his underwear and probed between his cheeks. Travis gasped, and tightened his ass reflexively.

“Mmmm, so hot and wet. You should drop your pants.”

Travis shook, “Please, don’t.”

“Don’t worry, I’m not going to hurt you. I just need to check you for drugs and weapons.” His voice lowered and got louder, angrier. “Now get your fucking pants down, boy, or I’ll take you in to the station and call your family.”

Kevin fumbled with his button, then quickly undid his shorts. He stopped there, uncertain how to proceed. The hand tightened in his hair. “Off boy! All the way to the ground. Everything.” Travis pushed his pants down, leaving only a thin pair of underwear to cover him. Again the hand tightened, jerking his head roughly this time, “I said everything! Underwear too.”

A tear trickled from Travis’s eye as he pushed his underwear over his cheeks and felt it slide down to land in a heap with his shorts. A second later he jumped as a hand cupped his ass and started stroking it. “Mmm. no weapons there—yet.” A finger slid between his cheeks again and started probing at his hole.

Kevin leaned in and whispered in his ear, “C’mon, boy. You know you want to get fucked. All you fags want a real cock up your ass, don’t you? It’ll feel great.” His finger kept stroking and probing at the moist heat.

Travis tried to shake his head against the older man’s pull. “N—n—o. Sir. Please?”

“No?” Kevin sounded surprised. “You don’t want me to fuck you? I promise it’ll be fantastic”

“N—no?”

“Huh. And here I thought a fag like you would be glad to get some real cop dick.” The officer stepped back, “But I guess if I’m not good enough, you might as well get dressed.”

Travis was confused, even a little disappointed as he reached down and pulled his underwear and shorts up. He’d been frightened, sure that the officer was going to make him do things, but now the man had stopped, he was a little sorry. The policeman was a pretty attractive guy. And the uniform was kind of hot, too. “It’s not that, I…”

“Don’t bother!” the man interrupted him and waved his hand. “If I’m not what you’re looking for that’s fine. You should just get dressed and go.” Kevin wasn’t sure how to proceed, so he did up his zipper, and was struggling with his button when the man spoke again. “I wonder what your family will think. And the people at school.”

Travis froze, button half closed. He swallowed, his mouth suddenly dry. He struggled to speak, and finally it came out in a whisper, “About what?”

“Well, the video. Of you on your knees on a dirty floor in a public toilet going down on some guy’s cock.”

“Y—y….” Travis was shaking and couldn’t’ speak properly.

“I’ll try Youtube. They’ll probably pull it pretty quick, but I’m sure some of the guys at school will grab copies.” It seemed like he was talking more to himself than to Travis, as though he had forgotten all about the younger man. “I could try Xtube or one of those. And maybe send a couple of anonymous emails.” He seemed to perk up, “Maybe even one to Jim. It could say ‘Looks like you’re not the only one Travis wants to suck’ I bet everybody in town will have seen it by the end of the week.”

Travis’s mouth hung open, his brain going a million miles a minute and his breath speeding up. “Y—y—you c—can’t?”

Kevin shrugged, “Sure I can. I’m pretty handy with a computer. And if I use the laptop with the 4G stick I grabbed at a drug bust a few weeks back, they won’t even be able to figure out who’s doing it.”

Travis was shaking and a cold feeling flowed through his body like he’d been punched in the gut. His mouth wouldn’t engage. all he could think about was his family and friends seeing him on his knees sucking a cock. “P—please?”

The officer put a hand on his shoulder and looked him straight in the eye. “Please what, Travis? Please fuck your ass, or please put the video online? Which would you like me to do? I’m happy to let you pick which you’d rather have.”

“P—p—please d—dont…” He was crying again.

“Don’t fuck you? I get it. I already said I won’t. If you don’t want me to fuck you I’m cool with that. Although I don’t understand why you’d rather have Ed Thurman than me. I know he was on the construction site all day. He probably smelled like he hadn’t had a shower in a week, but you were sucking on him like he was your favorite candy.”

“P—please?”

“I’d be honored to fuck you, Travis. You’re a very pretty boy and I think it would be great. We could just try it. I’ll stop if it doesn’t feel good. I promise.”

“R—really?” Travis I looked at him hopefully. “Just a try. And you’ll stop if it hurts?”

Absolutely! I promise to stop if it hurts, or even just doesn’t feel good. But I know it will. Relax. I’m not trying to hurt you.” Kevin paused and licked his lips. “I’ll do whatever you figure is best. You just have to let me know if you’d rather have me put the video online, or get fucked. Completely up to you.”

Travis stood, shaking, hoping that something would change, but Kevin just stared at him. Finally, the officer spoke again, “Look, Travis, I haven’t got all night. I need you to make up your mind what you want.”

“Y—y—you c—can….” He trailed off, unable to finish.

“Can what, Travis? Can put the video online?”

Travis shook his head rapidly no. “Y-you can f—fuck me.”

Kevin shook his head, “You can ask better than that.”

“P—please.”

“Please, what?”

Travis’s voice was a whisper, “Please fuck me.”

Kevin took Travis’s chin in his hand and brought the younger man’s eyes up to look at his. “Don’t forget you’re talking to an officer of the law, Travis. Now ask properly, and speak up.” He let go of the chin.

“Please fuck me, Sir.”

“Well, I guess if that’s what you really want I can hardly turn you down, now can I?” He paused, then gestured at Travis’s legs, then the front of the car, “Well? I can’t hardly fuck you with your clothes on, can I? Get em off, everything. You can put em on the top of the hood to lean on.”

Still shaking, Travis hesitated, afraid to himself.

“I’m getting tired of this, boy. You need to make up your mind, fuck, or video. Now.”

Travis swallowed, and did as the officer bid, stripping himself of everything but his shoes and socks, and piling his clothes on the hood of the squad car. He turned to look at the older man.

Kevin grabbed the hair on the back of his head and shook it. “I said everything, fag. Shoes and socks too. Naked. Then face the car, lay your face down on it, and spread your legs.” He gave a final shake of the hair and pushed Travis away from him.

Travis complied, putting his shoes and socks beside the rest of the pile, then leaning across the hood. Despite the warmth of the night, he shivered as he spread his legs. The next moment felt like an eternity as he waited for the violation to come. He tried, tried very hard not to turn and look, but the moment seemed to last for hours and finally he couldn’t help looking back to see what Kevin was doing. As soon as he did, a knee crashed up into his balls.

“Eyes down, cunt!”

Travis cried out in pain at the blow, but he buried his face in the shirt on the hood, and clenched his teeth. Seconds later he felt a hand running up the inside of his thighs and stroking into the crack of his ass. Then a finger began probing at his hole again, pressing at him, forcing inside against his muscles. He tried to relax, to focus on other things. His eyes were closed, and the sounds of the night seemed louder. Still, all he could think of was the finger until it pulled away. Behind him he heard the soft sound of a zipper, then a fresh heat against his ass. He heard the man spit, and felt liquid running down his crack. The feeling made his brain fire. “C-condom. there’s one in my pants.” He pulled a hand up to grab for it, but the man grabbed his wrist and pushed it down against his back, painfully.

“Fuck that shit, fag. I’m pretty sure you haven’t got anything I don’t already have. And if you get shit on my dick, we know you’re good at cleaning anyway.” Like that, the cock behind him was pressing at him, pushing against his hole. His brain screamed not to let it happen, but he knew he had no power here. All he could do was try to stop it from hurting, so he breathed deeply and tried to open his ass like the stories said, pushing down as though to take a shit, while the hot flesh pressed back against him.

The thick, hard, flesh was stretching him, he could feel himself giving away before the onslaught, stretching to capacity and beyond. It was too big. way to big, Travis knew it. But Kevin kept pressing forward. The man gave a hard lunge forward and it felt like someone had shoved a baseball bat inside him.

“No! It hurts! Stop!”

“Quiet! We don’t want anyone interrupting.”

“You said you’d stop if it doesn’t feel good. Please?” He was sobbing.

“Oh, but it does feel good.” Kevin moaned and thrust, punctuating each word with another thrust, “It. Feels. Fan. Fucking. Tastic. You’ve. Got. The. Tightest. Cunt. Ever.” With each stroke, the officer’s balls slapped rhythmically against Travis’s ass.

“No! Stop! Somebody help mmmpgh.” Kevin swept the socks from the hood and stuffed them in Travis’s mouth, holding them with one hand as he continued to fuck. It seemed to Travis like it went on forever, as Kevin thrust into him hard, pushing his own cock against the grill of the squad car. He felt disconnected, unable to figure out exactly what was happening to him, His body shivered and ached, but at the same time, it filled with a heat that he couldn’t describe.

Kevin spoke again, “”Guess what, faggot?” Travis didn’t know how to answer, and couldn’t anyway, through the filthy socks, so he remained silent. Kevin leaned in close, and whispered. “Your dick is hard.” The man laughed, and stood straight, redoubling his force as he thrust roughly into the tight ass. His voice was full of pleasure and superiority now, “You can pretend you don’t like it all you want, but your fag dick is giving you up.”

Travis felt himself flush red, and was glad it was too dark for the officer to see his humiliation as he realized how right the man was. His dick was harder than he ever remembered it, and leaking, leaving a sticky mess across the cur under him. He also felt a heat spreading through his groin as he approached the edge. He bit his lip, and tried not to react, but his body betrayed him, shifting and swaying, thrusting back to meet the policeman’s forward thrusts.

“Oh yeah! that’s it bitch, work my cock. Squeeze it.”

Travis couldn’t refuse, squeezing the cock with his ass to feel a fullness and tightness that made him gasp with pleasure. The friction inside his gut was warm and filled him with a satisfaction he’d never known before. Behind him, he felt the muscles of Kevin’s thighs contract and stiffen, his strokes shorten, the balls that had been slapping his ass stopped as they tightened and pulled up. The thought of what was about to happen sent Travis over the edge, and he convulsed as shot of after shot of cum sprayed across the hood of the car. His ass clenched with the orgasm and pulled Kevin along with him, the man thrust hard, lifting Travis off his feet, and the cock pulsed repeatedly deep inside of his guts.

“Keep still, and keep quiet.” Kevin warned as he pulled the sock out of Travis’s gasping mouth, and pulled his own cock out of the young man’s ass. The officer blew out his breath in a whoosh and wiped sweat from his forehead, then leaned against the car and pulled out a cell phone.

Travis could see the man beside him, cock sticking out through pants the man hadn’t even lowered, rapidly softening to normal. While Kevin waited on the ringing phone, he used his free hand to scoop some stickiness from Travis’s ass, then fed it to the young man. Kevin lapped at the fingers, tasting the man’s cum and feeling a new stirring in his own cock.

“Ed?” Kevin spoke into the phone. “Good. All done my break. You ready?” He listened for a moment. “Yeah, the film was perfect. Can’t see your face at all, but he’s clear as can be. And he won’t be giving you any more hard time about condoms. I’ve got him all lubed up. I’ll see you in a couple of minutes. We’re at the south end by the tracks.” He hung up, then grinned at Travis in the moonlight. “I hope you’re ready for a long night, fag.”

I dropped my bike hard near the end of summer right in front of a half ton. I rolled out of the way and got out with only a few scrapes, but the truck went over top of it and fucked it up for good. A couple of months later I was sick of the weirdoes on the bus so I needed new wheels—soon. When I told my wife, I was gonna start looking, she got all pissy cause she doesn’t like bikes, despite the fact she thought it was hot when she met me. The argument turned into a good hard fuck that night, as she tried to talk me out of it, but she finished by telling me if wanted a bike so much, I could ride it cause I wouldn’t be riding her. After Christmas, two weeks later, the argument was still on, her folks had finally left, my hard-on wouldn’t quit, and I was ready to go postal cause I was still bussing with the freaks and losers, and not getting any on top of it.

I decided I’d had enough, so I started trawling Kijiji for a new ride. The first day out, when I saw Jim’s ad for a practically new VFR800 for eight grand, I just about bust my nut on the spot. It was a fantastic price and I’d been hot for the VFRs since my first ride on a buddy’s a few years ago, before I got my licence. I could still remember the way that fucker throbbed against my dick as I tore down a gravel back-road. I called right away, and got the feel the guy was trying to unload in a hurry, so I made an appointment to look at it the next day, hoping to get the whole thing done and registered before my holiday was over.

I was a few minutes early when I showed up the next day, and it took a minute before a tall skinny guy with long blond hair and a matching goatee met me at the door, looking a little flushed. “You must be Kevin?” he asked.

“Yeah, Jim?”

“Got it. C’mon in.” He looked a little distracted and edgy, but lead me through the house to take a look at the bike in the garage out back. It was perfect, but I figured there was no harm in trying to bring him down a little, so I said I’d have to think about it. He really needed to sell, telling me all about how his wife was scared of it and wanted him to get something safer, so we haggled a bit, but it was already a good price, and he didn’t really want to move. I was ready to buy, but I hadn’t really planned ahead and after the haggling, I needed to take a leak pretty bad, so I asked if I could use the head.

He took me back in the house and downstairs so I could use the toilet in the basement. At the bottom of the stairs, he suddenly stopped in front of me, and got a bit flustered. “uh… Maybe we should use the other…”

I looked around the corner over his shoulder and there was a computer showing a picture of him fucking a hot babe, with her legs up in the air and him driving in hard. I smirked at him “Nice ass. Ex girlfriend?”

He turned a bit red, but muttered “no.”

I wasn’t really getting a shut-down vibe, though, and she was fine looking, so I pressed on. “You still together? She into threesomes?”

He turned even redder, and whispered, “I wish. It’s my wife, and no, she’s not into threesomes.” 

“Holy fuck, wife? Sorry man, didn’t mean anything.” He just shrugged. He was definitely embarrassed, but didn’t make any move to hide the photo, or move on, and he wasn’t acting angry or anything, so I thought I’d go for it. “She looks great.” I kept looking at the picture, and licked my lips. “Got any other pictures of her?”

He looked a bit nervous, and I thought he was going to bolt, or shut me down, but then he looked at his watch, and after a few seconds, he nodded and sat at the computer to begin scrolling through some hot pics of her, and of the two of them getting it on. I leaned over the back of the chair and watched some juicy shots roll by. There was a big-ass mirror mounted on the wall, and every now-and-then he’d loo up at it and watch my eyes. By now, I was getting seriously turned on, and I could tell he was getting into me getting off on her, so I asked again, “You’re sure she’s not into sharing? I bet you and I could take her some pretty fantastic places. Her mouth looks like it’s made for sucking, and I could sure use a blow job, or a tight piece of ass right about now.”

 Mixed signal city. He didn’t say anything, but his eyes got a bit bigger in the mirror, and he relaxed  and didn’t stop showing me pictures of the two of them fucking. We talked a bit about threesomes and what turns us on. He clearly liked showing her to me, but didn’t seem really into having her between us. A minute later, he leaned back a bit in the chair, and his head pressed against my hard dick in my jeans. That’s when I figured there might be an opportunity here. I’m sexual. I like a hot ass, and I don’t care if it’s a woman or a man. So after two weeks without, I wasn’t about to let an opportunity go by without making a play. I leaned forward more, so my mouth was right by his ear and whispered, “‘Course, your own ass looks pretty fine in those pictures, too. Maybe I could try it on for size.” Then I straightened up and rubbed my crotch lightly against the back of his head.

He froze for a second, then closed the picture on the screen. I made to move away, disappointed that I’d read him wrong, but he just switched to another folder and entered a long password to bring up a new list of pictures. I moved in again, and he opened a pic of his bike. He flipped through a few pictures of a few different bikes quickly, then stopped at a pic of him, naked, bent over the 800 facing away, with cock hanging down in front of the seat, blond ass spread wide, and his sweet little cunt winking at the camera.

 The room was silent, except for the click of the mouse as he flipped through pic after pic of him showing off his assets. Some were just simple, bare shots, some with his finger straying toward the hole, as though daring me to look inside. I put my hands on his shoulders, and he jumped a bit as I squeezed a little. I leaned forward again. “Now that, is the finest looking ass I’ve seen in a while. I bet it would look even finer with a cock lubing it up a little, eh?” I slid my hands up the back of his neck and ran my fingers into his long silky blonde hair. “Looks like the kind of ass that was made for fucking. Juicy, tight,” I sent a warm breath into his ear. “Hot!” My fingers gripped his hair and pulled just hard enough to make him gasp. I took his earlobe between my teeth and bit.

He gasped again, and jerked away, but I held his hair tight and he couldn’t move. I released his earlobe, and whispered a little louder, “C’mon man, we both know your ass is hungry for me. I’m not gonna say anything to her.”

He looked at his watch again, then seemed to make up his mind. He got out of the chair, and slid to his knees. A second later he was licking the front of my jeans and moaning. After a couple of weeks without, my dick took about half a second to get rock hard, and he moaned as he ran his teeth over my tube through the denim. I slipped my hands into his silky blond hair and pulled him against my groin, humping his face a bit as I did. His hands gripped my ass and pulled me into him as I felt the dampness penetrate to my cock.

I moaned, “Take it out.” He undid my jeans and pulled them down so my hard-on smacked him on the chin. He rubbed his stubble across the sensitive top, teasing me and sending shivers down my spine. “Fuck yeah! C’mon, suck it man.” He stopped teasing and started swallowing. My cock felt like it was melting as it slipped between his pink lips, across his tongue and sank into a hot, wet mouth and down his throat. He took it like a pro, swallowing and pushing until the whole thing was lodged deep in his throat, and my balls were pressed against his chin as he slid back and forth to jack me with his mouth. 

My head was swimming with the sensation and I knew I wouldn’t last long, so I had to pull him off. “Your ass. Now, I want inside that sweet ass.”

I didn’t have to ask twice. He jumped up and kicked his shorts down and off, then bent over the couch beside us. I kicked off the jeans and went straight for the bulls-eye. It was tight, slippery, but not slippery enough. A little spit later, and I was pushing in. As I started forcing in, he dug his hands into the cushions and I could tell it was hurting, but he never complained. He just buried his face in the cushions and held his dick. I pushed harder, holding my breath until the head slipped in and I slid down the chute like a hot knife into butter. “Fuck yeah!” I groaned at the tight heat. He gave a little cry and clamped down on my dick, which just made it better. I was in for it now, pulling back and thrusting in deep, balls smacking against the blond fuzz on his muscular ass.

I went fast, desperate to get some action in before I blew, pushing hard and fast as I felt my balls tighten and the tube start to swell. He was fisting his cock hard and fast, bouncing back against my groin with each thrust. I went deep, and froze, my ass clenching and toes curling as two weeks of need shot to the surface. I spasmed, repeatedly, unloading a couple, then a couple more when he came himself and squeezed me like he was trying to pull it off.

I slumped across his back for a minute, then stood and started pulling my clothes together while he wiped his cum off the couch. A few minutes later, we were upstairs again and I wrote out a check for the bike, then handed it to him just as his wife came in the front door.

When she came in, there was a quick round of introductions, then I turned to leave. She moved through into the kitchen with a bag of groceries looking pretty pleased, and I whispered, “Looks like I’m not the only one getting some hot ass today.” then I raised my voice so she could hear, “Thanks, I think I found the perfect ride.” I winked at him. “I look forward to getting a lot of use out of it in the future.”

Since I’m not posting any actual images on SOPA/PIPA protest day, below is part of a specially written story for slaveandy The below is part of a story about an encounter between two people who do not exist. Although it gives the appearance of being non-consensual, it is pre-aranged, because there is nothing erotic about being actually hurt beyond your choice by another person. The violence is exaggerated in their minds in order to set a mood for their fantasies. No fictional characters or real people were actually injured during the writing of this story. It contains violence and “unsafe” sex practices. Understand your risks.
——————
Andy felt like an idiot, delivering a package to a back yard garage, but that’s what the guy asked him to do. It was addressed wrong, to Andy’s place, so after a call and some chatting, he was just supposed to drop it off to the right address. He flipped the hand-scrawled paper up one final time, confirmed the address, then stuffed the paper in his pocket and knocked on the garage door. There was a click, and the grinding noise that garage doors make when they open, and it started to slide up. It was hot out, and he was already starting to sweat. He just wanted to get out of the sun and get it over with, and get back in the air conditioning of the car so he could get on with his day without being all sweaty. Impatient and frustrated, he ducked under the door as soon as it was open a bit. It was dark in the garage, and he blinked in the near darkness. While his eyes were still struggling to adjust, the door stopped and slid back down behind him.
Even once Andy’s eyes adjusted, it was pretty dim in the garage, with only a single small-wattage bulb at the far end, and it was still as hot as hell. There was someone walking toward him, but the guy was right in front of the light, so all Andy could really see was a silhouette.
“Uh,” Andy stammered a bit “I’m supposed to deliver something here?”, he held the package out. The guy in front of him was about 6’1” or 6’2” with broad shoulders, but that was all he could really see with the light coming from behind. The large figure reached out and took the envelope from Andy. It flashed through his head that was a bit weird that even in this heat, the hand that grabbed the envelope was wearing leather gloves. Thoughts of the twenty he was supposed to get for the delivery fled. “I’ll just get going then…”
“Wait!” The voice was rough, and had a menacing quality that sent a shiver down Andy’s spine. He stopped, and waited as the guy tore the padded envelope open. He turned it up, and started to slide the contents out. It was a weird mix of stuff; a hard plastic ball on some kind of rubber strap, a weird looking piece of leather with zippers that looked like a hood, and finally a pair of handcuffs. “So,” he said, “Into that shit, are you?”
Andy started backing toward the door. “Look, I don’t know what that’s about, I just agreed to pick it up and drop it off here. I was supposed to get twenty bucks for dropping it off. That’s all I…”
“Bullshit, faggot!” The guy slammed a fist into Andy’s kidney so hard he dropped to his knees. He felt his mouth flapping open and closed, but the pain was so intense he couldn’t breathe or move for a minute. The dude stepped behind him and put his mouth right beside Andy’s head. “You filthy cocksuckers are all the same.” he growled in his ear as Andy felt the handcuffs close tightly on his wrists. As his breath finally started to come back, the gloved hands forced the ball into his mouth and pulled the tight elastic behind his head.
Andy started to struggle to his feet, but the larger man pushed him back to the concrete floor and kicked him in the kidney again. Pain blossomed out from his gut and his vision blurred to red as fire raced through his whole body. Before he got back to normal, the hood slid over his eyes so he couldn’t see anyway, and he felt the tight choke collar lock on his neck.
He could hardly breathe, and wanted nothing but to be gone, but he couldn’t speak around the gag, he could only make some soft mumbling and listen to his own breath whistle through small gaps in the ball. There must have been a handle of some kind on the hood, because without feeling a touch, the dude jerked his head back hard enough to hurt, and Andy felt  hot breath on his ear as another whisper came, “You dirty fags never stop; always wanting real men’s cocks and always afraid to ask. Making up excuses about delivering packages, all the time watching and hoping they’ll let you have a little taste of their cock, or a good hard piece up the ass.”
Andy was trembling, crying, shaking his head, silently begging the man to let him go while drool began to ooze through the gag and run down his chin. A moment later he went still at the feel of something hard, smooth, and cold pressed against his throat. “What do you think, cunt. Is that the feel of a knife against your jugular? If it is, one hard swipe and you’ll be dead. Do you understand me?” He was afraid to move, and couldn’t speak, so he stayed frozen, shaking, gasping through the perforated gag. “I’d like to take your silence as a yes, but so far, you haven’t been a very accommodating faggot. I’m gonna move the knife away from your throat, and I want you to nod if you understand me. OK?” He felt the blade move away, and nodded carefully.
“Good boy.” A hand patted his cheek and the leather slid acros his jaw. “Now I’m thinking of taking the gag out, ‘cause it’s getting in the way. Do you think you can keep your mouth shut if I do?” Andy nodded again, carefully. “Good. See. If everyone plays nice we can all have lots of fun. Just remember, the knife could be right here if you accidentally make too much noise. Understand?” He nodded again, shaking.
Andy felt him undoing a zipper on the back of the mask and pulling the rubber strap out from under the edges. It twisted in his hair and pulled sharply. He winced, but stayed still. The guy finished removing the strap then did the zipper up again before pulling the ball out of his mouth. He worked his sore jaw a bit as the dude spoke again. “Now, I’m ready to fuck your face for a while. You lookin’ forward to that?”
Andy froze, and his mouth got dry. He shook before whispering, “n…no. Please d…. Uh!” He finished with a cry of pain as a boot connected with his gut again. Seconds later, the steel was back at his throat.
“Stupid cunt. The only things that come out of you are ‘Yes. Please. Fuck my throat. Fuck my ass. Harder. Sir. And my cock, when I’m done with you. Get it?” he pressed harder. Andy shook, but didn’t speak. “Do—you—understand?”
“Y…yes”
“Better.” Andy felt the cold steel run up and down his neck. The man’s voice lightened, and when he spoke again it was polite and friendly, as though he was offering his guest a cup of coffee, “”Now, would you like me to fuck your throat?”
Andy was shaking so hard he could hardly breathe and he could feel the tears running down his cheeks as he whispered, “Y…yes”
Voice still pleasant, as though asking if Andy wanttted cream “Don’t forget to say please, faggot.”
Andy swallowed and gasped with despair then did as he ordered, “P…please”
The voice lowered, hinting at anger or displeasure “Please what, bitch?” the knife, scraping against his neck, pressed harder again.
His mind raced, going through the list, afraid of what would happen if he picked the wrong words, “P…please fuck my throat?”
It must have been right, because the voice lightened and grew cheerful again “Is that what you really want, fag?”
“Y…yes, please.”
Now the voice was gravelly, full of heat and desire. “OK, bitch, you asked for it.” Andy got a whiff of sweat and cheese then felt the spongy head of a cock pressing against his lips. “C’mon cunt, we both know you want this. Don’t screw up.”
Shaking, Andy opened his mouth. In a flash, the guy pushed in hard, forcing an impossibly fat cock past his teeth, over his tongue and down into his throat. Andy gagged, gasped. He couldn’t get air. He felt himself choking and struggled to get his hands from behind his back to defend himself against the attack, but the cuffs were secure. “Fuck!” the guy growled, “That is so—Fucking—Hot.” He pushed and twisted. “It’s like the tightest, wettest, hottest, cunt on the planet. I can feel your throat squeezing like its begging.” He pumped hard into Andy’s throat for what felt like an eternity, all the time he couldn’t breathe; his lungs screaming for air; his diaphragm straining to pull them open; his gut heaving. “Fuck you’re a turn on, with your face all purple around my cock.” Andy felt the leather gloves rub over his chin and cheeks slide up over the face of the mask. “I bet if I took that off your eyes would be bulging.” He gave a few more pumps, and then yanked out.
Andy gagged, gasped deeply, then had a coughing fit as he tried to get rid of the burning, tearing feeling in his throat. He wanted to die. The humiliation and pain of having the man’s cock in his throat made him feel dirty, cheap, used.
“Throat sore?” he asked, sounding concerned.
Distracted and confused by the pain and shock, he nodded quickly.
“I can do something about that. Tilt your head back and open your mouth.”
In his confusion, Andy answered without thinking, “What?” His brain screamed ‘NO’ as he felt the boot in his kidney again. He dropped on his side, his cheek against the cool concrete, hands secured in the cuffs behind his back, the paralytic pain lancing through his gut again as the abused kidney screamed silently.
When the pain had eased and he could breathe again, he felt himself yanked by the head up off the floor again and the angry voice hissed in his ear. “I don’t remember ‘what’ being something that’s allowed to come out of your mouth, faggot. Now tell me again. What are the only things that come out of you?”
“‘Y…y…yes. P…please. Fuck my th…throat. Fuck my ass. H…harder.”
“And?” The voice was menacing.
Andy’s mind whirled for a second before he found his mistake. “Sir?”
“That’s right, ‘Sir’, which you haven’t been saying nearly enough, and also my cock, when I’m done with you. Do you get it, whore?”
“Yes.”
His head was shaking, “Yes, Sir! Cunt!”
‘Yes, Sir.”
“All right then. Open your dirty cock-sucking mouth and show me.”
The cool concrete pressed hard against Andy’s ass and scraped the elbow he was leaning on. The cuffs bit into his wrists and his whole body ached from the abuse. This time, though, he did as he was told without speaking. He bent his head back, and opened his mouth, sticking his tongue out, without being told. He shuddered when he heard the man hoarking. That was followed by the sharp sound of him spitting, then, when the lumpy, slimy, mass hit his tongue, a wave of revulsion coursed through him and he started to gag. His head was lifted by the handle on the hood and breathe seared Andy’s ear. “If that comes out of your mouth, it’ll be the last thing that ever does, bitch.” He felt the steel, again, no longer cold, against his neck.
He braced, closed his mouth, and swallowed the foul mess. His cheeks flamed with heat as the disgusting goo slid down his throat. The supple leather of the gloved hands caressed Andy’s throat, stroking his adam’s apple as he swallowed the man’s spit. “There.” he patted Andy on the cheek, “feels all better, doesn’t it?”
It didn’t feel better at all, but fear made him give the only acceptable answer. “Yes, Sir.”
“Good. Now, back up on your knees.” The man yanked upward on Andy’s left arm, sending pain lancing through his shoulder and forcing him to scramble into a kneeling position.
“Open your mouth and look up.” Andy was blind, helpless, powerless as he turned his head upward and opened his mouth. “Good faggot.” A leather covered finger brushed across his lips and then probed into his mouth and rubbed across his teeth and gums. When it pulled out, he waited in silence, mouth open, expecting at any moment to hear him hoark up another wad of spit, but only a faint rustling sound. A moment went by, two? I couldn’t tell how much time was passing. The garage simmered silently in the summer’s heat. His arms ached from the unnatural position of the cuffs and his wrists burned from the tight steel. Sweat trickled down his sides from his underarms. Suddenly he heard a spattering sound, then felt drops on his shirt. An acrid odor washed across his nose and the drops became a flood of hot fluid streaming down the front of his shirt. Andy closed his mouth in shock as he realized the dude was pissing on him.
Bang! A backhand hit the side of Andy’s face like a hammer and he rocked back on his heels. “Open yur fuckin’ mouth, cunt.” He grabbed the hood and shook Andy’s head. “yur wastin’ it.”
Andy opened his mouth and the bitter, acrid fluid poured in. It filled his mouth and overflowed, running down his shirt again. “Swallow faggot! Or I’ll cut yur useless balls off and feed ‘em to ya.” He choked down the hot piss, gagging at the strong salt and bite of the stinking fluid. Finally the flow stopped, and he felt a few last drops shaken across his face. The next thing he knew he could feel the hard cock slapping his face back and forth.
“Was that good, bitch? Huh? Did’ja like my juice?”
The bitter taste was still clinging to Andy’s tongue; his throat felt like it had been shredded. He was humiliated, soaked with piss, and aching all over.  But He knew there was only one answer the man would accept. he felt ashamed as he replied “Yes”
Another backhand to his chin “you need to learn ‘Sir’ pretty quick bitch or this is gonna be the longest night of your life.”
“Yes, Sir!”
Sir’s breath was hot on Andy’s ear again and he could hear the leer in his whisper, “Sick bitch. I know you think you’re lying to keep me happy, but you’re fooling yourself. Your cock is hard as a rock, fag.” Andy froze. He felt his cheeks flame as he realized the guy was telling the truth, some part of him was turned on by the abuse and humiliation. His cock was so hard it ached, begging for release. The dude laughed, then unzipped the mask, pulled it free and tossed it aside. Andy blinked at the sudden onslaught of the light, feeble though it was. Sir waved a scrap of smooth metal in Andy’s face and tossed it aside with a clang “Don’t need the ‘knife’ anymore, do I, cunt?” He gripped Andy’s hair with his hands and pulled tight, leaning in again close against his cheek and ear as he whispered “Now. Beg. For what you really want.”
Andy’s mouth was dry. He opened and closed it repeatedly as he tried to get the words out. He couldn’t speak, couldn’t think, couldn’t act. “Last chance, cunt. Beg, or I take the cuffs off and turf you out in the alley with the rest of the trash.”
“P…please, Sir. Please fuck me.”
“That’s what I like.” Sir pushed Andy’s face down to the concrete, and began fumbling his shoes off and tossing them aside. “Raise your ass, bitch!” he pulled upward on the cuffed hands to encourage Andy’s compliance. A delicious pain ran through his shoulders.
“Harder. Please”
Sir chuckled behind him and reefed his arms up higher until it felt like Andy’s shoulder would tear. “Oh yeah. You are a slut.” Sir said as he yanked the pants and underwear off in one pull. Andy’s shoulders and wrists ached and his cock throbbed at the treatment. He moaned with the mix of pain and excitement and wiggled his bare ass. Sir slapped it hard a few times, till a fresh fire spread across the bare cheeks. “Hold still” He commanded.
Andy waited, head on the concrete, ass in the air, as Sir stepped in front of him and finished removing his own pants. His cock was bigger than Andy’s, uncut, hard, and dripping. He fisted it a few times then stepped closer and spit on it. There was a squishing sound as he fisted the wet tool, then a dribble of sticky fluid fell on the side of Andy’s face and dripped down across his mouth. He didn’t wait for Sir to ask; he stuck his tongue out and captured the slime into his mouth. The man leered down at him and shook his head, “filthy whore.”
Sir stepped back behind Andy and went down to his knees. The wet cock and fingers began to rub against his ass as the guy positioned himself. Even through his haze, Andy knew this wasn’t safe. “C…condom.”
Sir stopped dead, his wet cock barely touching Andy’s ass. “What?”
“N…n…need condom.”
Another moment of silence followed as Sir softly rubbed his head against Andy’s crack. He asked, menacingly, “Did you bring one?”
Andy felt his face flush red again. “No.”
Sir sighed, and pulled away a bit. Despite the heat, there was a chill on Andy’s ass where his cock had been. “Fuckin’ faggots.” he fell silent again for a moment. “Are you telling me you’re not clean? You really think I should let a fucked-up cunt like you have my spit, my piss, my cock, my cum AND shell out a couple of bucks for a condom to keep yur shit off my dick?”
“That’s not…I’m clean…I don’t…. Andy was confused, didn’t know how to answer, so he turned to one of the approved words. “Please?”
“Yes, Sir!”
Sir’s breath was hot on Andy’s ear again and he could hear the leer in his whisper, “Sick bitch. I know you think you’re lying to keep me happy, but you’re fooling yourself. Your cock is hard as a rock, fag.” Andy froze. He felt his cheeks flame as he realized the guy was telling the truth, some part of him was turned on by the abuse and humiliation. His cock was so hard it ached, begging for release. The dude laughed, then unzipped the mask, pulled it free and tossed it aside. Andy blinked at the sudden onslaught of the light, feeble though it was. Sir waved a scrap of smooth metal in Andy’s face and tossed it aside with a clang “Don’t need the ‘knife’ anymore, do I, cunt?” He gripped Andy’s hair with his hands and pulled tight, leaning in again close against his cheek and ear as he whispered “Now. Beg. For what you really want.”
Andy’s mouth was dry. He opened and closed it repeatedly as he tried to get the words out. He couldn’t speak, couldn’t think, couldn’t act. “Last chance, cunt. Beg, or I take the cuffs off and turf you out in the alley with the rest of the trash.”
“P…please, Sir. Please fuck me.”
“That’s what I like.” Sir pushed Andy’s face down to the concrete, and began fumbling his shoes off and tossing them aside. “Raise your ass, bitch!” he pulled upward on the cuffed hands to encourage Andy’s compliance. A delicious pain ran through his shoulders.
“Harder. Please”
Sir chuckled behind him and reefed his arms up higher until it felt like Andy’s shoulder would tear. “Oh yeah. You are a slut.” Sir said as he yanked the pants and underwear off in one pull. Andy’s shoulders and wrists ached and his cock throbbed at the treatment. He moaned with the mix of pain and excitement and wiggled his bare ass. Sir slapped it hard a few times, till a fresh fire spread across the bare cheeks. “Hold still” He commanded.
Andy waited, head on the concrete, ass in the air, as Sir stepped in front of him and finished removing his own pants. His cock was bigger than Andy’s, uncut, hard, and dripping. He fisted it a few times then stepped closer and spit on it. There was a squishing sound as he fisted the wet tool, then a dribble of sticky fluid fell on the side of Andy’s face and dripped down across his mouth. He didn’t wait for Sir to ask; he stuck his tongue out and captured the slime into his mouth. The man leered down at him and shook his head, “filthy whore.”
Sir stepped back behind Andy and went down to his knees. The wet cock and fingers began to rub against his ass as the guy positioned himself. Even through his haze, Andy knew this wasn’t safe. “C…condom.”
Sir stopped dead, his wet cock barely touching Andy’s ass. “What?”
“N…n…need condom.”
Another moment of silence followed as Sir softly rubbed his head against Andy’s crack. He asked, menacingly, “Did you bring one?”
Andy felt his face flush red again. “No.”
Sir sighed, and pulled away a bit. Despite the heat, there was a chill on Andy’s ass where his cock had been. “Fuckin’ faggots.” he fell silent again for a moment. “Are you telling me you’re not clean? You really think I should let a fucked-up cunt like you have my spit, my piss, my cock, my cum AND shell out a couple of bucks for a condom to keep yur shit off my dick?”
“That’s not…I’m clean…I don’t…. Andy was confused, didn’t know how to answer, so he turned to one of the approved words. “Please?”
Sir leaned forward again, rubbed his wet head against Andy’s ass again, softly, teasing. “Here’s the thing, fag. Not—gonna—happen. So you decide. Now. Either I let you have my cock or I don’t. Works for me either way. You can be out of here in five. But there’s not gonna been any fuckin’ condom between me and your ass if I go in. If you get shit on me, you’ll just have to lick it off after. So whadaya want?” He rubbed a little harder, the moist heat pressing softly, but insistently against Andy’s hole. His hand grabbed the cuffs and pulled up, just a little, so another bolt of delicious pain shot through his aching shoulders.
He couldn’t think. Shouldn’t do it. Couldn’t resist the ache in his cock. “Please. Fuck me.”
Sir grabbed his hair again and twisted his head around. His breath was hot as he growled into Andy’s ear, “Bare?”
“Yes.”
“Hard?”
“Yes.”
“Rough?” Andy felt himself start to pant
“P…please.”
“Nasty?”
“Please!”
“Show me your tongue”
Andy stuck it out. Sir hoarked again and spit. Some on his tongue, some on his cheek. He swallowed greedily, another slimy, lumpy mass. As it went down, He moaned, and the guy drove in as hard as he could.
“AAAAAAAAAhhhhhhhmpphhh….” Andy’s scream from the fire cutting through his guts was cut-off as Sir shoved a gloved hand into his mouth.
“Stupid fag, you’ll scare the neightbors” He pulled his cock mostly out and slammed in again. Over and over, tearing Andy’s ass like there was a knife going in and out. “Fuck yeah! You might be stupid, but you’ve got a tight fuckin’ cunt on ya.”
Andy’s head was whirling, the pain in his ass warring with the ache of his own cock for release. It was hard and dripping under his belly. He desperately wanted to grab it and bring himself, but the bite of the cuffs on his wrists reminded him of the futility. As though sensing his need, Sir reached under him, hands rubbing roughly over Andy’s cock, grabbing, sliding in the lubricant. Internally he begged Sir to grab it and bring him off, but instead, the man found his aching balls and wrapped his fingers above them, then started pulling down, hard. Fresh pain coursed through Andy as Sir stretched them unnaturally. He moaned around the glove in his mouth and shook.
“Fuck yeah! Squeeze my dick, cunt. Harder.” he pulled again.
In desperation, Andy started squeezing his ass as hard as he could around Sir’s cock; trying frantically to give him what he wanted.
Sir pumped harder, urgently, “Oh yeah. That’s the way. Getting close now bitch.” He released the balls and started jacking Andy’s cock. He almost cried with relief as he felt his approaching orgasm. He squeezed his ass with all his might and Sir’s strokes shortened and sped up. Andy’s own balls tightening as he started to peak, then he was shooting, crying, firing more and harder than he’d ever cum in his life. He gave a muffled moan of pain and pleasure and squeezed around Sir’s cock. The man stopped moving and gripped Andy’s chin hard, gloved fingers on his bottom teeth, palm gripping his jaw while his other hand let go of Andy’s cock and reched forward to pull back on his hair. Andy was still shuddering and cramping with his final shots as the guy’s cock pulsed repeatedly, his own body shuddering as he filled the aching ass with his cum.
They stayed like that, stuck together for a moment, Sir’s hand slowly sliding out of Andy’s mouth and the other releasing his hair as he began to take gasping breaths. His cock finally began to soften and slip out, followed by a stream of Sir’s hot cum running over the back of his balls and down his own softening cock to drip onto the concrete under them. Sir caught some in a glove and offered it to Andy, who lapped it up, then he grabbed Andy’s head again and turned it up toward him. Sir brought their faces together and licked Andy’s upper lip, then forced his tongue into his mouth to greedily repossess his cum. His stubble scraping against Andy’s chin almost got him hard again, but the kiss, if you could call it that, lasted only a few seconds, then he pushed the spent sub to the floor and began dressing.
Andy gathered his own clothes in silence. Like him, they were wet and filthy, but at least they weren’t aching everywhere. Despite the enormous orgasm he felt hollow, dirty, used as he prepared to leave.
The guy stood with his hand on the garage door button and looked him in the eye. “So? It be OK if I mis-deliver another package again next weekend?”
The aching was fading fast, and Andy was feeling warmer again as he answered, “Yeah. That’d be good, Sir.”
Andy ducked under the door, then turned. As it started going down again, the guy nodded, winked, and said “See you soon, fag.”
 ***  End  *** 

Since I’m not posting any actual images on SOPA/PIPA protest day, below is part of a specially written story for slaveandy The below is part of a story about an encounter between two people who do not exist. Although it gives the appearance of being non-consensual, it is pre-aranged, because there is nothing erotic about being actually hurt beyond your choice by another person. The violence is exaggerated in their minds in order to set a mood for their fantasies. No fictional characters or real people were actually injured during the writing of this story. It contains violence and “unsafe” sex practices. Understand your risks.

——————

Andy felt like an idiot, delivering a package to a back yard garage, but that’s what the guy asked him to do. It was addressed wrong, to Andy’s place, so after a call and some chatting, he was just supposed to drop it off to the right address. He flipped the hand-scrawled paper up one final time, confirmed the address, then stuffed the paper in his pocket and knocked on the garage door. There was a click, and the grinding noise that garage doors make when they open, and it started to slide up. It was hot out, and he was already starting to sweat. He just wanted to get out of the sun and get it over with, and get back in the air conditioning of the car so he could get on with his day without being all sweaty. Impatient and frustrated, he ducked under the door as soon as it was open a bit. It was dark in the garage, and he blinked in the near darkness. While his eyes were still struggling to adjust, the door stopped and slid back down behind him.

Even once Andy’s eyes adjusted, it was pretty dim in the garage, with only a single small-wattage bulb at the far end, and it was still as hot as hell. There was someone walking toward him, but the guy was right in front of the light, so all Andy could really see was a silhouette.

“Uh,” Andy stammered a bit “I’m supposed to deliver something here?”, he held the package out. The guy in front of him was about 6’1” or 6’2” with broad shoulders, but that was all he could really see with the light coming from behind. The large figure reached out and took the envelope from Andy. It flashed through his head that was a bit weird that even in this heat, the hand that grabbed the envelope was wearing leather gloves. Thoughts of the twenty he was supposed to get for the delivery fled. “I’ll just get going then…”

“Wait!” The voice was rough, and had a menacing quality that sent a shiver down Andy’s spine. He stopped, and waited as the guy tore the padded envelope open. He turned it up, and started to slide the contents out. It was a weird mix of stuff; a hard plastic ball on some kind of rubber strap, a weird looking piece of leather with zippers that looked like a hood, and finally a pair of handcuffs. “So,” he said, “Into that shit, are you?”

Andy started backing toward the door. “Look, I don’t know what that’s about, I just agreed to pick it up and drop it off here. I was supposed to get twenty bucks for dropping it off. That’s all I…”

“Bullshit, faggot!” The guy slammed a fist into Andy’s kidney so hard he dropped to his knees. He felt his mouth flapping open and closed, but the pain was so intense he couldn’t breathe or move for a minute. The dude stepped behind him and put his mouth right beside Andy’s head. “You filthy cocksuckers are all the same.” he growled in his ear as Andy felt the handcuffs close tightly on his wrists. As his breath finally started to come back, the gloved hands forced the ball into his mouth and pulled the tight elastic behind his head.

Andy started to struggle to his feet, but the larger man pushed him back to the concrete floor and kicked him in the kidney again. Pain blossomed out from his gut and his vision blurred to red as fire raced through his whole body. Before he got back to normal, the hood slid over his eyes so he couldn’t see anyway, and he felt the tight choke collar lock on his neck.

He could hardly breathe, and wanted nothing but to be gone, but he couldn’t speak around the gag, he could only make some soft mumbling and listen to his own breath whistle through small gaps in the ball. There must have been a handle of some kind on the hood, because without feeling a touch, the dude jerked his head back hard enough to hurt, and Andy felt  hot breath on his ear as another whisper came, “You dirty fags never stop; always wanting real men’s cocks and always afraid to ask. Making up excuses about delivering packages, all the time watching and hoping they’ll let you have a little taste of their cock, or a good hard piece up the ass.”

Andy was trembling, crying, shaking his head, silently begging the man to let him go while drool began to ooze through the gag and run down his chin. A moment later he went still at the feel of something hard, smooth, and cold pressed against his throat. “What do you think, cunt. Is that the feel of a knife against your jugular? If it is, one hard swipe and you’ll be dead. Do you understand me?” He was afraid to move, and couldn’t speak, so he stayed frozen, shaking, gasping through the perforated gag. “I’d like to take your silence as a yes, but so far, you haven’t been a very accommodating faggot. I’m gonna move the knife away from your throat, and I want you to nod if you understand me. OK?” He felt the blade move away, and nodded carefully.

“Good boy.” A hand patted his cheek and the leather slid acros his jaw. “Now I’m thinking of taking the gag out, ‘cause it’s getting in the way. Do you think you can keep your mouth shut if I do?” Andy nodded again, carefully. “Good. See. If everyone plays nice we can all have lots of fun. Just remember, the knife could be right here if you accidentally make too much noise. Understand?” He nodded again, shaking.

Andy felt him undoing a zipper on the back of the mask and pulling the rubber strap out from under the edges. It twisted in his hair and pulled sharply. He winced, but stayed still. The guy finished removing the strap then did the zipper up again before pulling the ball out of his mouth. He worked his sore jaw a bit as the dude spoke again. “Now, I’m ready to fuck your face for a while. You lookin’ forward to that?”

Andy froze, and his mouth got dry. He shook before whispering, “n…no. Please d…. Uh!” He finished with a cry of pain as a boot connected with his gut again. Seconds later, the steel was back at his throat.

“Stupid cunt. The only things that come out of you are ‘Yes. Please. Fuck my throat. Fuck my ass. Harder. Sir. And my cock, when I’m done with you. Get it?” he pressed harder. Andy shook, but didn’t speak. “Do—you—understand?”

“Y…yes”

“Better.” Andy felt the cold steel run up and down his neck. The man’s voice lightened, and when he spoke again it was polite and friendly, as though he was offering his guest a cup of coffee, “”Now, would you like me to fuck your throat?”

Andy was shaking so hard he could hardly breathe and he could feel the tears running down his cheeks as he whispered, “Y…yes”

Voice still pleasant, as though asking if Andy wanttted cream “Don’t forget to say please, faggot.”

Andy swallowed and gasped with despair then did as he ordered, “P…please”

The voice lowered, hinting at anger or displeasure “Please what, bitch?” the knife, scraping against his neck, pressed harder again.

His mind raced, going through the list, afraid of what would happen if he picked the wrong words, “P…please fuck my throat?”

It must have been right, because the voice lightened and grew cheerful again “Is that what you really want, fag?”

“Y…yes, please.”

Now the voice was gravelly, full of heat and desire. “OK, bitch, you asked for it.” Andy got a whiff of sweat and cheese then felt the spongy head of a cock pressing against his lips. “C’mon cunt, we both know you want this. Don’t screw up.”

Shaking, Andy opened his mouth. In a flash, the guy pushed in hard, forcing an impossibly fat cock past his teeth, over his tongue and down into his throat. Andy gagged, gasped. He couldn’t get air. He felt himself choking and struggled to get his hands from behind his back to defend himself against the attack, but the cuffs were secure. “Fuck!” the guy growled, “That is so—Fucking—Hot.” He pushed and twisted. “It’s like the tightest, wettest, hottest, cunt on the planet. I can feel your throat squeezing like its begging.” He pumped hard into Andy’s throat for what felt like an eternity, all the time he couldn’t breathe; his lungs screaming for air; his diaphragm straining to pull them open; his gut heaving. “Fuck you’re a turn on, with your face all purple around my cock.” Andy felt the leather gloves rub over his chin and cheeks slide up over the face of the mask. “I bet if I took that off your eyes would be bulging.” He gave a few more pumps, and then yanked out.

Andy gagged, gasped deeply, then had a coughing fit as he tried to get rid of the burning, tearing feeling in his throat. He wanted to die. The humiliation and pain of having the man’s cock in his throat made him feel dirty, cheap, used.

“Throat sore?” he asked, sounding concerned.

Distracted and confused by the pain and shock, he nodded quickly.

“I can do something about that. Tilt your head back and open your mouth.”

In his confusion, Andy answered without thinking, “What?” His brain screamed ‘NO’ as he felt the boot in his kidney again. He dropped on his side, his cheek against the cool concrete, hands secured in the cuffs behind his back, the paralytic pain lancing through his gut again as the abused kidney screamed silently.

When the pain had eased and he could breathe again, he felt himself yanked by the head up off the floor again and the angry voice hissed in his ear. “I don’t remember ‘what’ being something that’s allowed to come out of your mouth, faggot. Now tell me again. What are the only things that come out of you?”

“‘Y…y…yes. P…please. Fuck my th…throat. Fuck my ass. H…harder.”

“And?” The voice was menacing.

Andy’s mind whirled for a second before he found his mistake. “Sir?”

“That’s right, ‘Sir’, which you haven’t been saying nearly enough, and also my cock, when I’m done with you. Do you get it, whore?”

“Yes.”

His head was shaking, “Yes, Sir! Cunt!”

‘Yes, Sir.”

“All right then. Open your dirty cock-sucking mouth and show me.”

The cool concrete pressed hard against Andy’s ass and scraped the elbow he was leaning on. The cuffs bit into his wrists and his whole body ached from the abuse. This time, though, he did as he was told without speaking. He bent his head back, and opened his mouth, sticking his tongue out, without being told. He shuddered when he heard the man hoarking. That was followed by the sharp sound of him spitting, then, when the lumpy, slimy, mass hit his tongue, a wave of revulsion coursed through him and he started to gag. His head was lifted by the handle on the hood and breathe seared Andy’s ear. “If that comes out of your mouth, it’ll be the last thing that ever does, bitch.” He felt the steel, again, no longer cold, against his neck.

He braced, closed his mouth, and swallowed the foul mess. His cheeks flamed with heat as the disgusting goo slid down his throat. The supple leather of the gloved hands caressed Andy’s throat, stroking his adam’s apple as he swallowed the man’s spit. “There.” he patted Andy on the cheek, “feels all better, doesn’t it?”

It didn’t feel better at all, but fear made him give the only acceptable answer. “Yes, Sir.”

“Good. Now, back up on your knees.” The man yanked upward on Andy’s left arm, sending pain lancing through his shoulder and forcing him to scramble into a kneeling position.

“Open your mouth and look up.” Andy was blind, helpless, powerless as he turned his head upward and opened his mouth. “Good faggot.” A leather covered finger brushed across his lips and then probed into his mouth and rubbed across his teeth and gums. When it pulled out, he waited in silence, mouth open, expecting at any moment to hear him hoark up another wad of spit, but only a faint rustling sound. A moment went by, two? I couldn’t tell how much time was passing. The garage simmered silently in the summer’s heat. His arms ached from the unnatural position of the cuffs and his wrists burned from the tight steel. Sweat trickled down his sides from his underarms. Suddenly he heard a spattering sound, then felt drops on his shirt. An acrid odor washed across his nose and the drops became a flood of hot fluid streaming down the front of his shirt. Andy closed his mouth in shock as he realized the dude was pissing on him.

Bang! A backhand hit the side of Andy’s face like a hammer and he rocked back on his heels. “Open yur fuckin’ mouth, cunt.” He grabbed the hood and shook Andy’s head. “yur wastin’ it.”

Andy opened his mouth and the bitter, acrid fluid poured in. It filled his mouth and overflowed, running down his shirt again. “Swallow faggot! Or I’ll cut yur useless balls off and feed ‘em to ya.” He choked down the hot piss, gagging at the strong salt and bite of the stinking fluid. Finally the flow stopped, and he felt a few last drops shaken across his face. The next thing he knew he could feel the hard cock slapping his face back and forth.

“Was that good, bitch? Huh? Did’ja like my juice?”

The bitter taste was still clinging to Andy’s tongue; his throat felt like it had been shredded. He was humiliated, soaked with piss, and aching all over.  But He knew there was only one answer the man would accept. he felt ashamed as he replied “Yes”

Another backhand to his chin “you need to learn ‘Sir’ pretty quick bitch or this is gonna be the longest night of your life.”

“Yes, Sir!”

Sir’s breath was hot on Andy’s ear again and he could hear the leer in his whisper, “Sick bitch. I know you think you’re lying to keep me happy, but you’re fooling yourself. Your cock is hard as a rock, fag.” Andy froze. He felt his cheeks flame as he realized the guy was telling the truth, some part of him was turned on by the abuse and humiliation. His cock was so hard it ached, begging for release. The dude laughed, then unzipped the mask, pulled it free and tossed it aside. Andy blinked at the sudden onslaught of the light, feeble though it was. Sir waved a scrap of smooth metal in Andy’s face and tossed it aside with a clang “Don’t need the ‘knife’ anymore, do I, cunt?” He gripped Andy’s hair with his hands and pulled tight, leaning in again close against his cheek and ear as he whispered “Now. Beg. For what you really want.”

Andy’s mouth was dry. He opened and closed it repeatedly as he tried to get the words out. He couldn’t speak, couldn’t think, couldn’t act. “Last chance, cunt. Beg, or I take the cuffs off and turf you out in the alley with the rest of the trash.”

“P…please, Sir. Please fuck me.”

“That’s what I like.” Sir pushed Andy’s face down to the concrete, and began fumbling his shoes off and tossing them aside. “Raise your ass, bitch!” he pulled upward on the cuffed hands to encourage Andy’s compliance. A delicious pain ran through his shoulders.

“Harder. Please”

Sir chuckled behind him and reefed his arms up higher until it felt like Andy’s shoulder would tear. “Oh yeah. You are a slut.” Sir said as he yanked the pants and underwear off in one pull. Andy’s shoulders and wrists ached and his cock throbbed at the treatment. He moaned with the mix of pain and excitement and wiggled his bare ass. Sir slapped it hard a few times, till a fresh fire spread across the bare cheeks. “Hold still” He commanded.

Andy waited, head on the concrete, ass in the air, as Sir stepped in front of him and finished removing his own pants. His cock was bigger than Andy’s, uncut, hard, and dripping. He fisted it a few times then stepped closer and spit on it. There was a squishing sound as he fisted the wet tool, then a dribble of sticky fluid fell on the side of Andy’s face and dripped down across his mouth. He didn’t wait for Sir to ask; he stuck his tongue out and captured the slime into his mouth. The man leered down at him and shook his head, “filthy whore.”

Sir stepped back behind Andy and went down to his knees. The wet cock and fingers began to rub against his ass as the guy positioned himself. Even through his haze, Andy knew this wasn’t safe. “C…condom.”

Sir stopped dead, his wet cock barely touching Andy’s ass. “What?”

“N…n…need condom.”

Another moment of silence followed as Sir softly rubbed his head against Andy’s crack. He asked, menacingly, “Did you bring one?”

Andy felt his face flush red again. “No.”

Sir sighed, and pulled away a bit. Despite the heat, there was a chill on Andy’s ass where his cock had been. “Fuckin’ faggots.” he fell silent again for a moment. “Are you telling me you’re not clean? You really think I should let a fucked-up cunt like you have my spit, my piss, my cock, my cum AND shell out a couple of bucks for a condom to keep yur shit off my dick?”

“That’s not…I’m clean…I don’t…. Andy was confused, didn’t know how to answer, so he turned to one of the approved words. “Please?”

“Yes, Sir!”

Sir’s breath was hot on Andy’s ear again and he could hear the leer in his whisper, “Sick bitch. I know you think you’re lying to keep me happy, but you’re fooling yourself. Your cock is hard as a rock, fag.” Andy froze. He felt his cheeks flame as he realized the guy was telling the truth, some part of him was turned on by the abuse and humiliation. His cock was so hard it ached, begging for release. The dude laughed, then unzipped the mask, pulled it free and tossed it aside. Andy blinked at the sudden onslaught of the light, feeble though it was. Sir waved a scrap of smooth metal in Andy’s face and tossed it aside with a clang “Don’t need the ‘knife’ anymore, do I, cunt?” He gripped Andy’s hair with his hands and pulled tight, leaning in again close against his cheek and ear as he whispered “Now. Beg. For what you really want.”

Andy’s mouth was dry. He opened and closed it repeatedly as he tried to get the words out. He couldn’t speak, couldn’t think, couldn’t act. “Last chance, cunt. Beg, or I take the cuffs off and turf you out in the alley with the rest of the trash.”

“P…please, Sir. Please fuck me.”

“That’s what I like.” Sir pushed Andy’s face down to the concrete, and began fumbling his shoes off and tossing them aside. “Raise your ass, bitch!” he pulled upward on the cuffed hands to encourage Andy’s compliance. A delicious pain ran through his shoulders.

“Harder. Please”

Sir chuckled behind him and reefed his arms up higher until it felt like Andy’s shoulder would tear. “Oh yeah. You are a slut.” Sir said as he yanked the pants and underwear off in one pull. Andy’s shoulders and wrists ached and his cock throbbed at the treatment. He moaned with the mix of pain and excitement and wiggled his bare ass. Sir slapped it hard a few times, till a fresh fire spread across the bare cheeks. “Hold still” He commanded.

Andy waited, head on the concrete, ass in the air, as Sir stepped in front of him and finished removing his own pants. His cock was bigger than Andy’s, uncut, hard, and dripping. He fisted it a few times then stepped closer and spit on it. There was a squishing sound as he fisted the wet tool, then a dribble of sticky fluid fell on the side of Andy’s face and dripped down across his mouth. He didn’t wait for Sir to ask; he stuck his tongue out and captured the slime into his mouth. The man leered down at him and shook his head, “filthy whore.”

Sir stepped back behind Andy and went down to his knees. The wet cock and fingers began to rub against his ass as the guy positioned himself. Even through his haze, Andy knew this wasn’t safe. “C…condom.”

Sir stopped dead, his wet cock barely touching Andy’s ass. “What?”

“N…n…need condom.”

Another moment of silence followed as Sir softly rubbed his head against Andy’s crack. He asked, menacingly, “Did you bring one?”

Andy felt his face flush red again. “No.”

Sir sighed, and pulled away a bit. Despite the heat, there was a chill on Andy’s ass where his cock had been. “Fuckin’ faggots.” he fell silent again for a moment. “Are you telling me you’re not clean? You really think I should let a fucked-up cunt like you have my spit, my piss, my cock, my cum AND shell out a couple of bucks for a condom to keep yur shit off my dick?”

“That’s not…I’m clean…I don’t…. Andy was confused, didn’t know how to answer, so he turned to one of the approved words. “Please?”

Sir leaned forward again, rubbed his wet head against Andy’s ass again, softly, teasing. “Here’s the thing, fag. Not—gonna—happen. So you decide. Now. Either I let you have my cock or I don’t. Works for me either way. You can be out of here in five. But there’s not gonna been any fuckin’ condom between me and your ass if I go in. If you get shit on me, you’ll just have to lick it off after. So whadaya want?” He rubbed a little harder, the moist heat pressing softly, but insistently against Andy’s hole. His hand grabbed the cuffs and pulled up, just a little, so another bolt of delicious pain shot through his aching shoulders.

He couldn’t think. Shouldn’t do it. Couldn’t resist the ache in his cock. “Please. Fuck me.”

Sir grabbed his hair again and twisted his head around. His breath was hot as he growled into Andy’s ear, “Bare?”

“Yes.”

“Hard?”

“Yes.”

“Rough?” Andy felt himself start to pant

“P…please.”

“Nasty?”

“Please!”

“Show me your tongue”

Andy stuck it out. Sir hoarked again and spit. Some on his tongue, some on his cheek. He swallowed greedily, another slimy, lumpy mass. As it went down, He moaned, and the guy drove in as hard as he could.

“AAAAAAAAAhhhhhhhmpphhh….” Andy’s scream from the fire cutting through his guts was cut-off as Sir shoved a gloved hand into his mouth.

“Stupid fag, you’ll scare the neightbors” He pulled his cock mostly out and slammed in again. Over and over, tearing Andy’s ass like there was a knife going in and out. “Fuck yeah! You might be stupid, but you’ve got a tight fuckin’ cunt on ya.”

Andy’s head was whirling, the pain in his ass warring with the ache of his own cock for release. It was hard and dripping under his belly. He desperately wanted to grab it and bring himself, but the bite of the cuffs on his wrists reminded him of the futility. As though sensing his need, Sir reached under him, hands rubbing roughly over Andy’s cock, grabbing, sliding in the lubricant. Internally he begged Sir to grab it and bring him off, but instead, the man found his aching balls and wrapped his fingers above them, then started pulling down, hard. Fresh pain coursed through Andy as Sir stretched them unnaturally. He moaned around the glove in his mouth and shook.

“Fuck yeah! Squeeze my dick, cunt. Harder.” he pulled again.

In desperation, Andy started squeezing his ass as hard as he could around Sir’s cock; trying frantically to give him what he wanted.

Sir pumped harder, urgently, “Oh yeah. That’s the way. Getting close now bitch.” He released the balls and started jacking Andy’s cock. He almost cried with relief as he felt his approaching orgasm. He squeezed his ass with all his might and Sir’s strokes shortened and sped up. Andy’s own balls tightening as he started to peak, then he was shooting, crying, firing more and harder than he’d ever cum in his life. He gave a muffled moan of pain and pleasure and squeezed around Sir’s cock. The man stopped moving and gripped Andy’s chin hard, gloved fingers on his bottom teeth, palm gripping his jaw while his other hand let go of Andy’s cock and reched forward to pull back on his hair. Andy was still shuddering and cramping with his final shots as the guy’s cock pulsed repeatedly, his own body shuddering as he filled the aching ass with his cum.

They stayed like that, stuck together for a moment, Sir’s hand slowly sliding out of Andy’s mouth and the other releasing his hair as he began to take gasping breaths. His cock finally began to soften and slip out, followed by a stream of Sir’s hot cum running over the back of his balls and down his own softening cock to drip onto the concrete under them. Sir caught some in a glove and offered it to Andy, who lapped it up, then he grabbed Andy’s head again and turned it up toward him. Sir brought their faces together and licked Andy’s upper lip, then forced his tongue into his mouth to greedily repossess his cum. His stubble scraping against Andy’s chin almost got him hard again, but the kiss, if you could call it that, lasted only a few seconds, then he pushed the spent sub to the floor and began dressing.

Andy gathered his own clothes in silence. Like him, they were wet and filthy, but at least they weren’t aching everywhere. Despite the enormous orgasm he felt hollow, dirty, used as he prepared to leave.

The guy stood with his hand on the garage door button and looked him in the eye. “So? It be OK if I mis-deliver another package again next weekend?”

The aching was fading fast, and Andy was feeling warmer again as he answered, “Yeah. That’d be good, Sir.”

Andy ducked under the door, then turned. As it started going down again, the guy nodded, winked, and said “See you soon, fag.”

 ***  End  ***