One man's incredible month of sex, and the twisted aftermath.
I was sitting at seven up, seven down. Plus a bonus night with Charlene. Pretty effortless, thus far. Being a young guy, I anticipated the simplicity would continue at Rico’s house party. I wasn’t wrong. The party was already rocking when I got there.
While I did anticipate tough middle weeks as the month continued, I also anticipated a potentially tough Christmas Eve and Christmas Day. Because on those two nights, the bars were closed. Most people were dedicated to their significant others or staying home. These were possible hooker nights. A small price to pay for fame. I could probably get a freebie off a hooker. After all the old bastards they had to service, they would be thrilled to do a specimen such as me.
The house was packed, the music was jumping and girls were everywhere. It was a true pussy haven. You couldn’t take three steps without running into some. Young, hot, tight, plenty of bare skin, nobody here for intellectual conversation or to find a friend. It was pick and choose. More fish in a barrel.
My good Amigo and party host Rico introduced me to Meagan and Teagan. Twenty-two year olds they were. A weird duet of small girls who looked identical, but weren’t related. They didn’t really look identical, but their clothes, hair and makeup were exactly the same. The girls had short, pitch black hair, almost bowl cut. They wore ripped white tee shirts. They had the same tattoos on their forearms and shoulders. The same ear and nose and eyebrow piercings. The same shredded jeans. The same black booties. The same skinny arms and legs, and they were the same height as little Meena. Where little Meena was gorgeous, these girls appeared dirty. Trashy. Yes. I think I may have seen them on Jerry Springer. A little creepy, this copycat thing. I was getting a whiff of lesbian from them.
This wasn’t the midget Euro duo Sara and Teagan with the awesome music, but these girls were pretty damn close. This night was going to be an easy double, with plenty of bodywork.
Despite the attitude these two tried to exude, they were simple little fuck pigs. My kind of fuck pigs. The punk rock generation was long gone, we were all raised in mediocre American comfort and the revolution against authority was over before it began. We spent way too much money on clothing styles, tattoos and hair colorant in a sad attempt to change what we were born as.
Change us to what we wanted to be. Help us find our real selves. What bullshit. You were who you were. Simple. Coloring your hair or plastering tats all over your body changed nothing. Except your bank balance.
Today, there wasn’t anything to rebel against, but these two were trying hard. Perhaps they were ugly little cretins under those masks. The harder I looked at them, the more I realized they were far from the female ideal. Skinny chickens, not curvy, not great asses, nothing for tits.
What was my motivation?
The number counter, my friend, the number counter.
And weird or creepy was always okay, wasn’t it?
You bet it was.
Hold the phone, because within five minutes of being introduced, the girls made it crystal clear they did everything together. Everything, they repeated. Got it girls, I am not a retard. Jeez.
I was glad I wore my wristwatch. With the glow-in-the dark numbers. I would have to do one before midnight, and one after midnight. The first one might be tricky. Because the record I was chasing stipulated dumping seed into each participant. I would have to shoot and pinch it with the first one. Or fuck the first one, and then play with the second one for ten or fifteen minutes before doing her.
Ah, the challenge of this hunt. What a man must put himself through in the pursuit of glory. My mind was working the angles as I sipped my beer.
The dainty duet was guzzling identical pink drinks on the rocks. Getting identically drunk. Running off to the bathroom together. Coming back together, reeking of pot. Giggling together.
I checked my watch. Eleven twenty-five. Time to start this juggling act. I knew Rico’s old two story house like the back of my hand. Bedroom number three I would use for tonight’s wet work.
Beer in hand, I hustled the girls up the stairs and down the hallway. I chuckled to myself. On a hard party night such as this, it might be wise for Rico to number the doors and hand out little keys. The coupling would get pretty heavy as the drinks and pot were ingested in ever increasing amounts.
This was kind of a replay of the six chick night. Teagan and Meagan were both pretty hammered. The kissing started. Me and Teagan. Then Meagan cut in. Then Meagan started kissing Teagan. Nice. Then they turned on me and began to strip my shoes, socks, pants, shirt and underwear.
They reminded me of little piranha fish. Drunk, yet fast and efficient. They peeled off each other's clothes as I lay back on the bed. In the gloom of the bedroom I couldn’t tell which one was which. One of them began to eat my cock and the other slid beside me to neck. The one I was necking with had no tits to speak of, there wasn’t a lot for me to grab onto. I found her ass which was small and tight, and then I found her pussy which was small and tight. Soon her pussy was finger wet. I pulled her on top of me, sliding her crotch up to my face. She twisted completely around, facing her buddy, pushed down on my mouth and began to grind.
My tongue was up to the challenge, especially with my cock in her buddy’s warm mouth. The chick on top of me bent forward, my cock felt cool air, then it was warm and wet again. A bit of sixty-nine action. The girls were taking turns slurping on my monster. Probably deciding who would go first. The girl on my face pulled off, the other chick was right there with her mouth, kissing at me, slurping at her friend’s pussy juice.
I was able to check my watch. Eight minutes to midnight. I needed one of these tighties on me pronto. I lifted the one eating pussy off of my face, positioning her over my sword. Then slowly lowered her down. It was a damn tight fit, and I could sense the pain of discomfort through the darkness.
Oh well. When you run with the bulls…..
I was gentle with her. At least until she was down all the way. I thought my cock might push up into her stomach, into her organs, she was so small.
She was a trooper. She was doing her bodywork. For sure. Or, she was a veteran fuck pig, and had taken many, many cocks in her short time on earth. Because she immediately began the ride movement. Slowly at first. Then quicker, with control and rhythm. With expertise. Okay, okay, this girl was a veteran.
Her friend was watching. Watching and waiting for her turn, I expected. The one on my cock pulled herself off, and her friend climbed on. She was wet from my tongue, and she sat right down on the beast. All the way down. With a loud grunt and a snort of pain.
Another veteran fuck pig. Lots of cock, for sure.
How else to explain the acceptance of my monster?
Surprise, surprise. You never knew with these little girls.
I felt her clamp on and shift to bronco riding. She bucked up and down, grabbing a nice healthy rhythm. A veteran rhythm. She moaned and drooled. Her friend climbed back on my face in reverse position, to watch the impending orgasm.
As I ate away, I was sure the girls were doing something to each other. Touching or kissing. Maybe playing Sudoku. Damn, I couldn’t see any of it.
I thought about the two girls, kissing on top of me, my entire cock in one of them, my tongue in the other. Such young girls, very adept at riding big cock. These thoughts and the hot, bucking clamp on my cock sent me over the edge. I thrust hard, impaling the girl on my en-gorged rod. She yelped as I crushed into her.
A damn big cock, right honey?
I began to blow, flooding her with hot seed. Her friend was grinding at my face, nearly suffocating me. Thrilled her little buddy had orgasmed. The girl on my cock slowed her bucking. She was sweat soaked and spent. She kind of flopped off my cock and slid to the floor, gasping and panting. The cunt on my face slid off and she moved her head between my legs. She lapped at the pussy and cum combo dripping off my cock.
Better than Dairy Queen, right?
I checked my watch. Eleven fifty-nine. Close call.
The counter rolled off another. Check. Number eight.
Number nine was already engaged.
My own chest heaved as I recovered. Not only had I cum, but I wasn’t able to get much air with the little cunt clamped over my mouth. Number nine was crawling down on the bed, cleaning up the excess sexual drippings. My cock was spent, but seeing what she was doing began to tickle my balls.
I grabbed my beer off the end table and took a deep swig. I passed the bottle down to Meagan or Teagan, and she also took a long swig, in fact, she finished the bottle. Then she was back to my balls, and thighs. My cock was stirring. I could smell nothing but pussy and my own cum. A rather intoxicating brew. Number nine lapped at my balls, a mewling cat, and now my balls responded by filling tight. She covered my softened cock with her mouth. No problem honey. Let’s see if you can maintain your position and decorum over the crucial growth phase.
I sat up on the bed, grabbed her short ugly haircut and forced her to stay on my cock. She sucked away at it, the growth starting to fill her little mouth. The growth pushed against her gag reflex. The sucking had stopped and she was mostly gasping. Survival. I kept my hands on her head and she tried to work it, the game little cunt. My bell was moving into her throat, and she was struggling. The base of my shaft was visible, about three inches worth. Number nine had at least six inches, with some of the inches breaching her throat. With a violent back pressure, she blew off my cock and began to vomit. The beer she had consumed, plus the fancy pink drinks, spewed across Rico’s bed.
Nasty. So much for decorum.
Hey, when you run with the bulls……
These two little girls would have lots to talk about tomorrow. One of them spent, crumpled at the side of the bed, this one gagging, trying to stop her heaving.
To my surprise, the little tiger mounted my stiff cock, gasping for fresh air, stifling her puke reflex. Good for her. I let her slide down the pole at her own pace. Then let her get comfortable. She rode a bit, as her breathing returned to normal. Then she began a slight moan. This was my cue.
Because her buddy had recovered enough and was sitting back against the wall watching us.
I flipped the weightless waif over, sending her onto her back, me falling on top, all two hundred and ten pounds of muscle. Her eyes bugged out of her head as my body weight and full cock landed on her, and in her.
‘Oh shit’, she must have thought, now I am in trouble. This big bull is angry.
I wasn’t angry. The big bull was horny.
I glanced at my watch. Seven minutes after midnight. This was awesome. Talk about a stud. I loved myself at this moment. Actually, at all moments. I was ready to hammer number two. I did. I folded the tiny legs up, pointing her pussy towards the ceiling. I pounded her a few quick shots, then looked over at the friend. The friend was wide-eyed. I didn’t know if it was because she wasn’t involved, or because she and her buddy had never been fucked this way. I think it was both. This made me hornier. I picked up the pace, driving the tight, wet pussy harder. I was pulling halfway out, then slamming back in.
You could hear this from anywhere in the house. Every time I hit her she yelped. Then moaned. The pleasure pain combo was happening. She was a solo act. No tag in from her buddy. No sharing. Every cunt for herself. I lifted her off the bed, impaling her with my cock. Then slammed her down, rocking the bed and the floor beneath. I think her eyes were rolling around in her head. I couldn’t be sure, I could only sense. I felt my balls fill and my cock engorge. This chick couldn’t separate from me if she tried. I was stuck in her. Deep. Probably rearranging her internal organs.
I kept the plowing up. Glanced at her friend. Her friend was mesmerized. Or horrified. I didn’t know which. I didn’t care. I had a gigantic orgasm forming, down in the base of the pipe. It needed out. I was rag-dolling the chick, she had nothing left in her. Resistance was futile. Resistance was gone. I stood up, pulling her with me. Carried her around the bed. Slammed her into a wall hard enough to knock a picture down. She gasped, moaned, screamed. Followed by an animal sound I thought meant pleasure.
I stepped back and slammed her again. Same result. Gasp, moan, scream, and grunt. I sat back on the bed, and let her finish it. She seemed to be trying to get off me, but my cock was too engorged. She recognized her plight, understanding her only ticket off was a spent cock. Surprising me, she began to bronco ride, wrenching my cock hard. I started to shoot. I shot so much I thought my balls would invert and die.
Finally as I spent out, number nine was able to disengage and climb off. Her thin legs trembled as the white spunk dripped out. What a load. My cock stood, mostly erect and glistening. Her friend came to aide her buddy, but I had a better idea. I was able to grab her by the hair, bring her down to my crotch, and push into her mouth. I pushed in deep and hard.
I wanted a true double. A double barf.
I felt my cock breach her gag reflex and yes, within seconds the gag reflex began to rebel. Number eight choked hard, her spreading throat swallowing my cock head. The gagging grew fierce, and at the correct moment, I released her. Sure enough, the vomit spewed out, more of the fancy pink drinks. Tears streamed from her eyes as she heaved. I had two naked, black haired, anorexic, tattooed pixies, both fucked out, both fully purged on the head of my giant cock, trembling before me.
At my altar.
This was good.
The dominator and the dominated.
Indeed, these two pals would have stories to tell.
Tick, the counter rolled over to the number nine. Meagan and Teagan. Or Teagan and Meagan. Didn’t matter. Both done. Both done with flair. I had to be careful with the scorecard. Think. Think.
Which was which?
Hole number eight. Teagan. Seven and nine. Hole number nine. Meagan. Seven and nine. Sevens for being the dirty duo, a pretty cool shtick after all. I wasn’t sure where it would take them in life.
A big nine for the double barf. The haggard heaving of a naked, anorexic cunt. Beautiful, times two. The skinny girls made my cock look enormous, like a freaky appendage.
I didn’t need skinny girls to make such a claim.
I didn’t make it through the movie last night. Well, tonight I would. I passed on the leather getup. I passed on the booze. And the little brown bottle. Just finish the movie and get it over with. Solve my stupid curiosity. Destroy the thing. Move on.
Hopefully in a different direction. For sure in a different direction. Because anymore of this crap was no direction at all.
The living room curtains are closed tight. I am back on my couch, ready to roll. I fire up the TV and start the movie. Immediately, I am taken aback by what I see.
‘Fuck me. Fuck me please’.
I replay those awful words again and again.
‘Fuck me please’ echoed through my living room. Echoed through my brain. Burrowed deep into my brain. Latched on tight, a burrowing leech.
Holy shit. I did say it. I did. I said it out loud.
‘Fuck me’ was bad enough.
I had added ‘Please’ to it.
Asking, no, begging for it? Begging to be fucked by a guy?
How many girls had begged me for it?
After working my magic tongue on their horny clits, they begged. Wet, mewling, hungry, dogs.
I begged Stevie, didn’t I?
I was now one of them, a wet little dog.
I needed a drink.
I pushed the stop button.
Off to the kitchen, I took a bottle of beer from the fridge. Make it two. I returned to the couch and sat down. Twisted the cap and drank. Half the bottle gone. The next gulp finished the bottle. I twisted cap number two and hit play. The camera angle is back above us. I can see Stevie’s long white cock slide slowly into my ass. Disappear into my ass. All the way in. My face is contorted in pain and discomfort, and something else. This is surreal. I am amazed at how gigantic our cocks look on video.
His and mine.
Moving quickly, Stevie strikes again, the side of my face this time. It is enough to spray blood from my swollen lips. The sound has gone out again, and the camera zooms in on my face. The face of a beaten boxer, who has endured twelve rounds of punishment. The camera pulls back.
My cock is hard in my pants.
Again. It shouldn’t be. Not watching this shit. I tell my cock to stop it. To smarten up.
My second beer is empty. I hit pause, walk to the kitchen, grab two more beers from the fridge, and make a pit stop in the bedroom. Five minutes later, empty beer bottle number three is in the bedroom, and I am back in the living room. I sit on the couch, the leather crackling against the leather. I open beer number four and continue the live porno flick. I am fully geared up. Sliding sideways back into the movie. Back to the ugly dark side.
Stevie is pulling out of me, then pushing in. Developing his rhythm. His cock is slicked with ass lube. Stevie stops briefly, placing my hands on my own legs, forcing me to hold myself apart for him. I am mesmerized as I watch.
Why would I do this?
Push off the guy, or at least drop my hands.
Why am I helping him? What is wrong with me?
I glance at my crotch. The bulge in my leather pants is full. Shiny and full. My cock has not listened to my explicit instructions. My cock has a brain of its own. A life all its own. Ask those December cunts.
Back on the screen, Stevie is beginning to thrust. He is pounding me good. The sound is back on. I hear Stevie grunting, an animal rutting in heat. The fag on the bottom is moaning, groaning, panting and slobbering. The fag’s eyes are closed or swollen shut, it is hard to tell. The fag looks to be in pain. He also looks to be enjoying his pain. Stealing some measure of bliss from the pain, a thief in the night.
My cock is twitching in my pants. Commando again. Bare cock against my leathers.
The fag on the bottom is thrusting his ass onto the cock inside him. Yes he is. His ass is chasing Stevie’s cock.
I was unscrewing the little brown bottle. Lifting it to my nose. I caught a whiff of the chemical. Warm, mysterious. On the edge. Trouble. I took a deep, deep draw, capped the bottle, waited about ten seconds. Here it was. The thudding in the skull matched by the thudding in my groin. I peeled off my tee shirt as the perspiration began. I felt the heat run through my body as Stevie hammered away at the fag.
The fag was crashing against the back mirror wall, his ass sliding across the bed as Stevie worked. Stevie would yank the fag back over his cock, and then pound the ass harder. The noise coming from the room was impressive. Two men in heat. A blind, raging heat. This was not the wailing, high pitched sound of a chick calling for god, but deeper sounds, gruffer sounds. Animal sounds. The sounds of conqueror, and conquered. A fight for survival. Ancient. Prehistoric. Eat or be eaten.
The camera angle swung back to the side. I gasped at what I saw. Stevie was wearing his leather pants and stomping boots. His white cock was pulling completely out of me, my ass gaping and dripping and raw, then Stevie was slamming back in. There was my giant cock, quivering with Stevie’s thrusts. Veiny. Throbbing. The biggest, most beautiful cock in the world. Good Christ. Mine. Me.
The twitching in my balls was past the point of no return. I frantically dropped my zipper, yanking out my meat. My cock on the screen was both mesmerizing and erotic. And it wasn’t gay, because it was mine. Too late. My cock blew hard across my chest and up under my chin. I was actually thrusting on the couch. Thrusting and bucking against nothing. Against no one. Not Cindy. Not Charlene.
My chest heaved up and down, sweat soaked. The madness on the screen continued. Stevie’s hands were caressing my neck. My mouth was open. Gasping for air. Stevie’s hands tightened. Harder. I could tell. Stevie shifted on the bed, applying more pressure to my neck. He had me folded on the bed, my legs nearly on my shoulders, grinding with his ass, his cock completely inside me. This gave him plenty of leverage to choke me out.
And damn, he was doing it.
My face began to redden. Dark red. Nearly purple. My neck twisted, trying to free itself. As the camera moved back to the top view, I could see my hands faithfully holding my legs apart.
I was holding my legs apart while he choked me to death.
An obedient, suck ass bottom.
I was sweating again on the couch, watching this. My hand caressed my throat in sympathy. The fag on the screen was going to die. My bare cock began to twitch.
Finally, Stevie released his grip. The fag gasped and coughed, horribly loud on my speaker system. It seemed as if the two guys were here, present, in my living room.
I sighed with relief.
It was over.
When suddenly, Stevie took back his grip, pulling the fag off the cot. Stevie shook the fag violently, the fag’s head looking ready to separate from his neck. Stevie bucked hard, with a force I had never used or seen before. Stevie’s groin slapped hard against the fag’s ass. I could see the spray of perspiration where the collision impacted. When the camera closed in on the bottom fag’s cock, the damn thing was standing straight up. Pulsing and raw.
Two triggers were pulled at the same time. The fag on the screen. Me on the couch. The cock on the screen blew up and out. The ropes of white cum arcing, reaching as far as the fag’s own face. The cock on my lap blew as well, the first shot hitting my nose. I stared at the cock on the screen, counting eight, nine, ten, eleven, twelve shots. Twelve full shots of cum. A fucking geyser. When the shooting stopped, the cum continued to flow, lava from a pipe. Spreading over the fag’s tight six pack belly. My cum sprayed in unison.
Christ almighty. Two cum shots in two minutes? Talk about instant recovery.
I had to settle my breathing again. I had gotten so worked up. I gulped for air, feeling the phantom choke hold around my neck. Come to think of it, I can feel exactly where he had his fingers on my neck. The maniacal look in his eyes as he was throttling me. Obviously, the idiot got off on the choking and the punching and the ass pounding. The total domination package. Is this why my cock was twitching again?
Was it? A third fucking time? Yes it was.
Why? The domination? Or the submission?
Which mind fuck was messing me up more?
[to be continued.........................To download the entire 164,000 word text, go to SMASH WORDS, BARNES & NOBLE, FLIP KART, SONY, APPLE or KOBO]
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