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Straight No More

Category: Gay Male
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I was getting ready for a trip to Washington on business, for work when Bill, a guy I didn’t like at all, said at coffee, “If you are in D.C. you have got to go to the Iron Rod.”

“The what?” I asked, barely listening since all the guy did was bullshit.

“The Iron Rod is the best pick-up bar in Washington. You are literally guaranteed to get fucked,” he explained.

In retrospect that was the hint of what was about to happen to me, but I didn’t catch it. His smug smile should also have been another clue. I quipped, “Yeah and you will fuck anything.”

“True,” he agreed, “but this place is legendary. I fucking guarantee even an average looking dude like you will be a sure thing.”

I said I already had plans but we would see what happens.

The second night in D.C. after a long boring day of meetings, a supper with clients that included a little too much booze and goggling at hot waitresses in short skirts, I returned to my hotel drunk and horny.

Remembering Bill’s mentioning of that sure thing bar I figured what the hell, I would check it out, maybe even get laid.

The bar was a bit out of the way, so I got a taxi to get me there. On the drive, I concluded although I was not hammered, I was feeling pretty buzzed.

Buzzed enough to pay the ridiculous thirty dollar cover, buzzed enough to not question when the massively steroid built bouncer insisted that they keep my driver’s license till I left the club, buzzed enough to sign a piece of paper just to get into the bar and buzzed enough to not notice the complete lack of women in the place as I sat at the bar and ordered a drink.

I had one good long sip of my drink before I surveyed the bar. It took me only a few seconds to realize Bill had sent me to a fucking gay bar. There was not a woman in the place, unless you counted some of the fairies wearing punk scarfs or prancing around like queer pipe blowers and poop chute takers they were. I instantly cursed Bill and texted him.

You fucker, I will get you back for this.

I decided to shoot my drink and get the fuck out of there before some queer thought I played on their fucking side.

As I shot my first drink, the bartender placed a second drink in front of me.

I said, “I didn’t order a second drink.”

“It is from Bulldog,” the bartender said, as if that ended the conversation.

There was no way I was accepting a drunk from some faggot. “No Thanks,” I said, pushing the drink back.

The bartender looked at me alarmed. He leaned in and whispered, “You don’t say no to Bulldog.”

“Who is Bulldog?” I asked, amused by the name.

“The master of the house,” he answered, before adding, “and he loves fresh white meat.”

“I am not a fag,” I said.

“Oh you will be by the time Bulldog is through with you,” the bartender promised with a knowing smile.

Curious who supposedly had so much power, I asked, “And who is this Bulldog?”

“See that big muscular guy with all the tats,” he said, pointing to a table in the corner.

I looked to the table where a big, bald, black guy was sitting staring at me. “Holy shit, he is huge,” I gasped.

The bartender agreed playing with my words, “That he is, even with his pants on.”

I glanced back at him, he had his drink in the air and was clearly giving me a toast.

Not wanting to offend the man who could break me in two with his bare hands, I took the drink he had bought and raised it to him.

He gave a nod, as if giving me permission to have a drink. Trying to prove I was a man I downed the drink.

As I looked at him again, I noticed something I hadn’t before. Some queer’s head was bobbing up and down, assumedly on Bulldog’s cock.

Shaking my head after the instant buzz from the drink, I quipped, “Looks like he already has some queer blowing him.”

“Be careful what you say, straight boy, or you will end up in the hospital,” the bartender said, not offended but clearly issuing a warning.

A guy who looked a lot like Matt Damon, but younger, came to the bar and said, “Ken, Bulldog wants another cocktail and another one for his new friend.”

“Of course,” Ken the bartender replied.

The ridiculously good-looking guy who could easily get any chick he wanted with just this looks alone, was obviously a knob polisher, which I bet a ton of woman felt was a shame, said, “Bulldog would like you to join him for a cocktail.”

I was proud of myself for not saying what I was thinking, which was shit you are a cocktail (he had a cock and he takes it in the tail). But I replied, “Um thanks, but I was just leaving.”

The pretty boy said, “Well, you have a drink to finish and it would be very impolite to not at least say thanks.”

Every time he kept saying cocktail I had to hold back laughter, men did not say cocktail. Finally, I realized it would be easier if I just ended this personally. As Ken returned with my whiskey, I gave a nod and said to the pretty boy, stressing the word ‘cocktail’ as two separate words, “Lead the way cock tail.”

Oblivious to my intended insult, he smiled, his voice going disconcertingly high, “Right this way.”

Bulldog’s eyes never seemed to leave mine as I walked over to his table, the faggot still bobbing up and down, oblivious to how absurd he looked sucking cock in public, even in a gay bar.

Arriving at the table, I took control, “Thanks for the drinks, but I’ve really got to get back to the hotel.”

Ignoring what I had just said, he spoke, his voice soft yet strong, “Where you from?”

“Detroit,” I answered, my eyes gravitating against my will to my first live queer scene.

He kept talking to me as if it were natural to have someone sucking his cock while having a conversation (which for him it probably was). “Cool, I am a Red Wings fan.”

I am a diehard fan and not realizing I was being pulled into a conversation I had come over to prevent, I said, “Me too. I grew up when they sucked in the late eighties and have met Yzerman on a few occasions.”

“Very cool. I loved Yzerman too, too bad he ended up in Tampa Bay, not really a Mecca for hockey,” he said.

“So true,” I laughed.

“Take a seat,” he said, not rudely, yet it was clearly an order and not a suggestion.

I don’t know why I obeyed, but I felt my legs bending and soon I was sitting on the opposite side of the cocksucker.

Closer now I could see the blow job clearly and my jaw dropped open even wider, when I saw how big Bulldog’s cock was. It was obvious why he was called Bulldog: his cock was long and thick. It made my five inch cock look like a child’s toy.

“Eleven inches,” Bulldog said.

“What?” I asked, only partially hearing him.

He said matter-of-factly, “My cock is eleven inches long.”

Trying to act casual, I commented, “That must get you a lot of action.”

Ignoring my assessment, he asked me, “So why are you in D.C.?”

“Work,” I said, trying to avoid what was natural to want to look at. It was like driving by a car accident, you don’t want to look but you can’t resist.

He chuckled, “Want to replace him?”

“Pardon?” I asked realizing I was staring. I quickly looked away at what was the biggest cock I had ever seen not in a porn movie and quickly clarified, “I’m not gay.”

“Then why are you here,” he asked.

My eyes gravitated back to the older white guy sucking away on the massive cock. “A co-worker of mine told me I was guaranteed to get fucked here,” I admitted.

He laughed, “Well that is a guarantee I can make you too.”

I began to get up knowing I was getting in way over my head and quite nervous about the implication of his guarantee.

As soon as I stood up he ordered, his tone firm and authoritative, “Sit down, Martin.”

I didn’t sit down but instead asked, “How do you know my name?”

Pulling something out of his pocket he read what appeared to be my drivers’ license. “Martin White, born April 3.”

I demanded, “Give that back to me.”

“All in good time. Now sit,” he ordered, his tone more aggressive and clearly absolutely intolerant of any insubordination.

This time I did as I was told.

“So we have a bit of a predicament Martin,” he began.

“And what would that be?” I asked, shooting down the rest of my drink and getting rather annoyed by the whole situation.

Bulldog snapped his fingers and the Matt Damon looking faggot got up and went to the bar, assumedly to get me another drink.

“You see when you entered here you became part of the Iron Rod family,” he continued.

“Which means?” I asked, glancing back to the white dude still slobbering up and down on Bulldog’s cock. A thought of sucking cock flashed in my head and I just as quickly dismissed it.

“Still in denial aren’t you Martin?” Bulldog asked.

“What!” I asked, just as another drink arrived.

“You are having flashes in your mind of sucking my chocolate perfection,” he correctly assessed.

I stammered, after taking a long dug at my drink, “I-I-I am m-n-not.”

“Liquid courage,” he said, before continuing, “Do you remember signing a paper when you entered the club?”

The booze beginning to get to me, I vaguely remembered signing a piece of paper and joking I was signing my life away, the irony of that statement now becoming crystal clear. “Yeah, so what?” I shrugged.

“Every person here, a top or a bottom, signed the same confidentiality waiver, but as you probably know waivers aren’t worth the paper they are written on,” Bulldog continued.

“Are you getting to the point anytime soon?” I asked, trying desperately to ignore the temptation to look at the cocksucker sucking Bulldog’s cock, while trying to look tough and straight.

“The tough man bullshit doesn’t impress me, if anything all it does is further convince me you are a bottom in denial,” he said, calling my bluff.

“I don’t even know what a bottom is,” I countered.

“You will soon enough,” he laughed. “So where was I?”

“Explaining that waivers are shit,” I offered, my years in legal experience confirming he was right.

“Of course, you are a good listener Martin. So anyway since waivers are not legally helpful and utter discretion is needed to protect our clientele, many who are celebrities, or in positions of power, we need to have something damaging on you to make sure you don’t out any of our members.”

“Why would I do that? I don’t even know anyone here,” I asked.

“Don’t you?” he asked. “Say hi, Judge Wellington.”

The cocksucker took the huge black cock out of his mouth and looked up and said, “Hi.”

It took me a moment to correlate that the man who had been slowly sucking on Bulldog’s huge cock was one of our countries federal judges.

Bulldog snapped his fingers and one of the most powerful men in the country returned to sucking cock. “Did you take a good look at the men in the bar?”

I still was in shock but really I hadn’t in retrospect. Once I realized I was in a gay bar, I got disgusted and avoided eye contact, although truth be told I was always rather oblivious to my surroundings (something that drove many ex-girlfriends nuts). “Not really,” I admitted, adding, “once I realized where I was I quickly decided to finish my drink and head back to my hotel.”

“Yet here you are,” Bulldog smiled.

“Not by choice,” I countered.

“You always have a choice Martin,” he responded, before suggesting, “Look around. Take a good long look.”

Curious, I did as suggested. I turned around and was suddenly overwhelmed by reality. First off there was a stage at the back that I couldn’t see from the bar earlier. Currently on the stage was a male stripper dressed as a fireman, a guy who was easily one of the most ridiculously good looking men I had ever seen. Although I am not gay, I know when someone is good looking.

As I continued scanning the room I became overwhelmed with the shocking reality of what I was witnessing.

At another table was Senator Hawkings and he had some young black man bobbing furiously like his life depended on it. At another table a middle age white guy was seemingly riding the cock of a similarly aged white man. On the dance floor guys were making out, slow dancing and so forth.

Yet, the biggest shock came as I was turning back around to Bulldog. In the corner, Carter Harper the tough guy for the Washington Capitals, was bent over getting fucked by some older man in his early fifties. It was unfathomable that such a tough guy could be a faggot. Even more shocking was the clear facial expressions of pleasure that was on his face; he loved getting ass fucked by this old dude and didn’t seem to care who saw.

Bulldog laughed, assumedly at my stunned face as I couldn’t stop watching the tough guy get roughly fucked by some old dude. “You see that is the luxury of the Iron Rod Martin, complete anonymity. No one in the city knows that the resident tough guy loves nothing more than to be fucked in the ass. He will take a half-dozen cocks up his backdoor in one night regularly, although his record is 21.”

“Fuck off,” I said to know one, still unable to believe what I was seeing.

“Look at me, Martin. You can fuck him later tonight if you want,” Bulldog said.

My cock flinched in my pants at the thought even though before today I had never once considered fucking a guy. I reluctantly quit watching the bizarre scene and returned my gaze to Bulldog.

“When you signed that waiver at the door, you agree to be filmed tonight and any other night you are here,” Bulldog informed me.

“I won’t be here again,” I responded, desperate to hold onto every last straight fibre in my being.

“Oh, I have heard that before. But they all come back,” he chuckled, confident in his words, before repeating, “they all come back.”

I didn’t respond as I just tried to process everything going on around me.

He continued, “To guarantee the protection of our clientele we have to make sure you never have any inclination or temptation to reveal what happens here or who frequents our establishment.”

“I won’t,” I promised, thinking who would believe me anyway.

“Oh, I believe you,” he said, before adding, “but your word isn’t enough to guarantee your silence.”

I was beginning to understand his unsaid intent. “You are not serious.”

“Deadly,” he said, with not even a hint of a smile. Snapping his fingers, the judge who had been slowly bobbing up and down for over twenty minutes sat up. Bulldog’s facial expression didn’t change as he said, “Your turn.”

A million thoughts ricocheted in my drunken brain, yet his big cock saluting me was blurring my straightness. I could feel the urge to suck his cock growing, thinking to myself no one will ever know. Yet, the lingering masculine side of me, the one that made gay jokes and mocked gay men was yelling for me to walk away.

Assumedly seeing my inner struggle, he said, “Go on, Martin, fate led you here, and woke up a long repressed inner desire you didn’t even know existed. Just relax and let it happen. I know and you know you want to suck my cock. Don’t fight it.”

His words no longer seemed ludicrous like they had earlier, instead they seemed logical. Yet, I was still paralyzed by indecision.

He chuckled, “Plus, my cock is going in one of your holes Martin, and I am not sure your little ass is ready for me.”

My eyes went big and suddenly I rationalized I was going to obey not because I wanted to, but because I had no choice. I was trapped in his gay bar and clearly wasn’t going to be allowed to leave until they had me in a similarly compromising position as they obviously had everyone else here. Slowly, I moved closer and leaned forward, taking his cock in my hand. I couldn’t believe how rock hard it was and suddenly imagined him fucking me with it.

As if reading my mind, he smugly said, “All in good time. But let’s start with making you a good little cocksucker.”

The name should have offended me, but yet instead I felt my mouth opening as I leaned forward and took the mushroom top of his huge cock in-between my lips.

“Good boy,” he purred, “enjoy my big chocolate stick.”

Another condescending name and yet it only made me want more. I blamed the booze, I blamed the bizarre situation and I blamed Bill, but those were all just excuses. In the end I wanted to suck his cock. I slowly took more of his long, thick cock in my virgin mouth, suddenly feeling determined to not suck at cocksucking, I know, ironic.

“I think you were born to suck cock, Martin,” he complimented when I had a third of his cock sliding in and out of my mouth.

Each sly compliment only deepened my submission and enhanced my eagerness to please.

“Fuck, you have a suction grip on my cock,” he groaned as I tried to replicate the best blow jobs I ever received, which always had a girl making her mouth feel like my cock was tight like in a glove.

“Faster, Martin, convince me you want to taste my cum,” he ordered, over half his cock now in my mouth and I obeyed, suddenly hungry to do just that, taste his cum.

“You look so hot with a big cock in your mouth, faggot,” he moaned, a minute later, the derogatory name became a harsh quick hit of reality, yet instead of a burning shame I should have felt, I heard myself moan on his cock as I tried to take more of his monster in.

“Shit man,” he groaned, “you really are a natural little cocksucker. I bet you are already imaging my cock in your virgin little man pussy.”

The suggestion and term man pussy should have been absurd, yet the idea suddenly seemed like a natural next step, my cock dying to break free from its restrictive home.

“Proof of your worth, faggot,” he grunted and without warning shot his cum in my mouth. I don’t know what I expected it to taste like, but it was shockingly salty sweet. I swallowed as much as I could but I gagged on the excessive amount and some came out my mouth. Much to my own shock, I apologized, “Sorry, it was just too much cum.”

“It’s ok, cocksucker, you did pretty good for a virgin,” Bulldog replied, “getting over two-thirds of me in your mouth on your first time was pretty impressive.”

“Thanks,” I said absurdly, oddly flattered by his compliments, proud I had impressed him.

“Ready for your movie?” he asked.

“Pardon?” I asked, thinking I was done.

“That was just your appetizer. To guarantee your undying loyalty we need you in a very compromising position,” he informed me, his cock surprisingly still fully erect.

“What else am I expected to do?” I asked, although deep down I already knew.

“You must first get naked, get a cock nice and hard with your mouth and then have him take you in your man-pussy,” he informed me, casually like he was talking about the weather.

“My man pussy?” I questioned as if that were the only odd thing said.

“Yes, straight faking faggots like you get fucked in your man pussy, or your ass if that makes you feel better,” he said, before ordering “Get naked.”

“Here?” I asked, praying there was somewhere private having accepted the reality that I was going to get fucked, Bill’s promise coming true. Oddly, an acceptance had come over me and instead of fear and disgust, I felt instead intrigue and excitement. My cock was rock hard and had been for awhile.

“No, go onto the stage,” he pointed.

“Please no,” I pleaded.

“This isn’t a negotiation,” he replied firmly. “Now, go. We have a pretty big surprise for you, both literally and figuratively.”

Anxieties now filling me with dread and fear at being the center of attention, I slowly walked to the currently empty stage.

“Our newest dancer is Martin, he is a marketing representative out of Detroit here to seal a deal with Parker’s House. An hour ago he was as straight as an arrow, but one look at Bulldog’s magic wand and another straight one is converted. Without further ado I give you our newest addition to the Iron Rod family, Martin,” a speaker said over the intercom like you would hear when a stripper was introduced.

Music started to the obnoxious ‘Sexy and I know it’ song as hoots and hollers began from the crowd.

I stood frozen at first but after looking to Bulldog who just nodded and I noticed the judge had returned to the slow up and down on his big chocolate stick. I couldn’t believe how my mouth instantly watered and I felt a hunger to suck his cock again even though his semen aftertaste was still in my mouth. Suddenly wanting to impress him, I started my dance. It was awkward and uncomfortable at first but when the first whistles came followed by money thrown on the stage I began getting into it. I just let go and allowed the rhythm to pulse through me. After the first chorus, I took off my shirt and tossed it in the growing crowd on the dance floor. More whistles, comments of take it all off and crumbled money had a huge adrenaline rush flow through me. I flipped out of my shoes as the spotlight stayed on me.

As the second chorus ended a chant began, “Pants, pants, pants….”

I obliged, adrenaline taking over as I unbuckled my belt and in one quick pull it was off. I tossed it on the floor as I unbuttoned my dress pants and unzipped it slowly as I looked directly at Bulldog.

Finally, I pulled my pants down, again awkwardly, and was standing in front of over sixty men in my boxers, my erect cock poking out.

I continued dancing, feeling somehow liberated at being almost naked. And as the song ended, I went for broke and pulled down my last remaining piece of clothing, revealing to all my six inch erect cock.

The guys on the dance floor hooted, hollered, whistled and clapped as I stood in my birthday suit in a gay bar.

An announcer returned, “What a riveting performance from our newest member. And now for his initiation.”

Anxiety again pulsed through me. “Walker, please join us on stage.”

My eyes went big, my face red as I saw Mr. Parker, the CEO of Parker’s house who I spent all day with trying to convince him our company was best for his upcoming campaign, sauntering towards me.

He smiled as he joined me on stage. “Surprised, boy?” he asked, his southern accent heavy.

“S-s-sorry,” I stammered.

“Sorry, who do you think set you up? Bill became a good little bottom for us last year when he got the account and he suggested you would be a perfect addition to my boy harem,” he revealed, unbuckling his pants.

I was stunned. Even after sucking a cock and doing a strip tease, this was a shocking turn of events. The boss of the company I was trying to win over earlier today had somehow set this all up.

The look on my face must have been equivalent to what I was feeling as he chuckled as his fully erect cock was unleashed. “How willing are you to get this contract?”

A part of me wanted to punch him in his smiling face, yet another part of me knew I would do almost anything to get this deal and the promotion that would likely go with it. Yet, both these conflicting realities were overpowered by an undeniable hunger to suck his cock. I don’t know what changed in me, as a couple hours ago there was no way I would even have considered sucking cock or any other faggot activity, yet there I was the thought of sucking cock overriding anything else.

So instead of talking, I did what felt suddenly natural, I crawled to his stiff appetizing cock and took it in my mouth.

“Good boy,” he groaned as I began slowly bobbing back and forth, on his much more reasonable six inch cock. Determined to do what I couldn’t with Bulldog, I continued taking more of Mr. Parker’s delicious cock in my mouth suddenly wanting nothing more than to get him off. After a couple of minutes of adjusting to his cock in my mouth I finally deep throated him.

He grunted, “You are one determined little cocksucker aren’t you?”

I moaned on his cock and was literally disappointed when he pulled his cock out of my mouth.

“Time to make you forever a bottom,” he said, just as I felt hands on my ass and cold liquid between my ass cheeks.

I looked back and saw some young guy rubbing my ass with what was apparently lube. Three hours ago if any guy would have even vaguely touched my ass I would have put him in the hospital, yet now I was thankful for any assistance that would ease the impending pain.

Mr. Parker moved behind me and said, “Beg me to fuck your ass, Martin.”

The added instruction enhanced the humiliation factor and yet I was no longer resisting my reality, but embracing it. The words out of my mouth sounded so absurd. “Please fuck my ass,” I said.

He rubbed his cock in-between my ass cheeks and said, “You can do better than that. A good bottom is an eager one.”

His cock rubbing between my ass cheeks was driving me crazy with anticipation and I didn’t even hesitate as I moaned, “Please, sir, I need your cock in my ass so badly. Make me your bottom.”

“My personal faggot?” he questioned, his cock now at my anal ring.

“God, yes,” was all I could muster as the only thing on my mind now was his cock inside me. The thought so unthinkable a few hours ago was now all I wanted.

“Tell me what you are,” he demanded, as his cock head pushed forward.

“Fuuuuck,” I whimpered, as I felt my ass opened up and I admitted the inevitable. “I am a faggot, your faggot.”

“Good boy,” he purred, as his mushroom cock broke through my last weak resistance.

I don’t know what I expected to feel, but the actual feeling was a blend of euphoria and pain. The feeling of letting go, giving in was intensely satisfying and yet the burn inside my ass hurt with a sharp pain that enhanced the pleasure-pain principle ten-fold. The sound out of my mouth was a similar moan of confusion, “Aaaaaaahhhhhoooooh.”

Mr. Parker’s laugh, his hands on my hips, seemed to vibrate through me enhancing the stimulation and humiliation equally. He moved slowly forward, each inch inside bringing new pleasure and pain. My cock ached for attention as it stood erect even while I was being sodomized.

I closed my eyes to control the pain and enjoy the pleasure, the conflicting feelings tossing and turning inside me. Time stood still as this odd equilibrium of pleasure and pain cascaded through me inch by inch.

Suddenly he announced, “Good boy, my little bottom, you took all your Master’s cock.”

I felt a rush of pleasure at knowing I had taken it all, yet was shocked at Mr. Parker referring to himself as my Master.

“Say it faggot, say you want your ass fucked by your Master,” Mr. Parker ordered, his tone shifting to authoritative and dominant.

His cock was lodged deep inside me and all I could think about was having him fuck me. His cock had me feeling so full, yet the pleasure I wanted was just simmering below the surface and I hoped when he began fucking me the pleasure would come in waves.

I didn’t care about the audience, I didn’t care about my dignity, I only cared for what I suddenly craved…to be fucked. So I replied like a good eager bottom, which apparently I had become, “Please Master, fuck your faggot’s virgin ass. Make me your fuck-toy.”

“You are way more eager than your colleague,” Mr. Parker said, as he began pulling his cock out of me.

“Fuuuuck,” I moaned as he began slow deliberate strokes.

“You like that faggot,” Mr. Parker asked.

I couldn’t deny how good it felt to have a cock sliding in and out of my ass. I moaned, “Yeeeeeeees.”

His strokes continued moving in and out slowly as I got used to having my ass filled and when another hard cock suddenly was tapping my lips. I didn’t even hesitate to open my mouth, without even opening my eyes to see who it was, and I simply allowed another stranger’s cock in my mouth.

On all fours, it was awkward to suck, so I just allowed what came natural, I allowed him to fuck my face. Thankfully, his cock was small, but with each forward thrust I could feel his balls hitting my chin, which made the submission seem more humiliating and dirty. Yet, like each act of submission, I instantly craved the stranger’s cum.

After only a couple minutes, I heard a grunt and felt my mouth filled with the stranger’s hot seed. I swallowed it all and opened my eyes to see a very flamboyant young man pulling his cock out of my mouth.

“Welcome to our side,” he said, his high pitched voice making my submission more humiliating as he was the stereotype of a queer I had always mocked so scathingly.

An older gentleman replaced the queer, his cock still only semi-erect. Without instruction, I opened my mouth unbelievably still hungry for more cock.

Mr. Parker asked, “James, ready for a back and forth?”

“Sounds like a plan, Walker,” the old man groaned, as his cock grew in my mouth, a feeling which was oddly satisfying, knowing it was my mouth making him grow.

“Faggot, are you ready to fuck us both,” Mr. Parker said, letting go of my hips.

It took me a couple of seconds to understand his expectations. I was to fuck myself on his cock. Yet, another additional humiliation to this bizarre day. Yet, my eagerness to please him was all that mattered, and I began to slowly move back on his cock. Once it was fully in me, I moved forward, taking the older man’s now fully erect cock completely in my mouth. I started slowly moving back and forth, taking all of Mr. Parker’s cock in my ass and then all the older man’s cock in my mouth. As I got into a constant rhythm, I began to pick up the pace wanting to be fucked faster, harder and deeper. It was unthinkable but true all I wanted was to be used.

A couple of minutes of the back and forth, my ass slamming back onto Mr. Parker’s cock, his cock going even deeper inside my ass, and I thought I may come without having my cock touched. Suddenly, the older man pulled his cock out of my mouth and furiously pumped his cock until I felt his sticky seed on my face as he used me like some cheap sorority whore. The act built on the humiliation and yet it only seemed to make me want more. Another cock replaced the last one and I continued my cocksucking train.

“Where do you want my cum, faggot?” Mr. Parker asked.

I didn’t hesitate when I took the small cock out of my mouth and begged, “Fill my ass, my man pussy with your hot cum. I want to feel you fill me completely.”

“As you wish,” he grunted and in a few more strokes I felt the incredibly bizarre yet ultimately satisfying feeling of being filled so full. My own cock quaked and shockingly I came harder than I had ever come before, as pulsation after pulsation shook my cock.

Mr. Parker chuckled, “Wow, coming from having your man pussy pounded, you really are a little faggot aren’t you?”

“Yeeeees,” I trembled as the greatest sensation ever quivered through me.

Wanting more, I took the small cock back in my mouth and hungrily bobbed up and down again like I was some slutty co-ed.

As Mr. Parker pulled out, I felt his cum leak out of my ass, again adding to the complete humiliation.

To my surprise, a few seconds later my ass was full again with some stranger’s cock which I couldn’t see because I had a mouthful of cock.

An hour later, my mouth had serviced over a dozen cocks (I lost count after six) most which I swallowed, a couple who coated my face and had my ass fucked by almost as many.

By the time they were done with me my knees were throbbing, my ass burning and my jaw aching.

Mr. Parker asked, “So did you enjoy your initiation?”

I weakly answered, “Yes.”

“We have one more treat for you if you have any energy left,” he said.

Although my whole body was aching, my cock was still hard. I looked up my face sticky with cum, and answered, “Sure.”

“Well, it’s your turn to top. Choose anyone you want, they will likely bend over for you. We are very accommodating here,” Mr. Parker said.

“So it seems,” I replied, laughing slightly.

I looked around and saw my hockey idol, but he was already being fucked by some large black man.

I looked around suddenly hungry to fuck a man, again something that had never been a thought before today. Scanning the crowd, I saw the most flamboyantly gay guy I had ever seen and knew instantly he was who I wanted to fuck. In reality, he was almost a girl.

I walked over towards him at the bar and he smiled instantly, as if knowing my intentions.

He looked down at my cock fully erect and smirked, his voice disconcertingly high, “They always come to me.”

I suddenly was speechless. If he was a girl I would know exactly what to say and how to play the flirt game. Yet with this queer I was suddenly lacking confidence and feeling inferior to him.

He said, “Use a line on me, baby.”

His high pitched voice which I would have made fun of before today was suddenly a turn on. I tried to be suave as I said, “I like your outfit.”

“That’s all you got,” he said.

Sighing, I said, frustrated that he was making me work for it, “Look, I find you incredibly sexy and I choose you out of all the available men.”

“Kiss me.”

“P-p-pardon,” I asked.

“If you want to fuck me you have to kiss me,” he said, knowing that he was trying to push me. Oddly, I had sucked cock, swallowed cum and been ass fucked and yet this seemed more gayer than any of those.

“Here?” I asked.

“Right here,” he replied, smiling.

I strangely found his smile sexy and suddenly kissing him was not so gay; instead it seemed natural. I leaned forward, tentatively, and kissed him. His lips were softer than any woman I had ever kissed and before I knew it I was being pulled into him. I slipped my tongue inside his mouth, hungry for more.

Oddly, it was he who broke the kiss. “And you were straight before today?” he asked.

Just as quickly as I was pulled in, I was pulled back to reality. “What? Yes, I am straight,” I protested, even though such a declaration was really absurd now.

“Yes, you are as straight as they come,” he laughed, grabbing my hand and leading me to a corner booth at the back of the bar.

I followed him, my eyes on his tight ass the whole time.

“So what do you want, Sugar?” he asked as we reached a somewhat secluded part of the bar.

I wanted to fuck him, but saying the words suddenly seemed difficult to say. “I um, I….”

“You are so cute,” he said, waving his fairy hand at me.

Again what would have followed before today was my fist in his face, instead it had me blushing.

“Aaaah, am I making you blush,” he purred, as his hand went to my erect cock.

I moaned on contact as he moved towards me and said, “I warn you, baby. Once you have had me, no woman will ever be good enough.”

As I looked at him speechless and horny, he slowly fell to his knees and took my cock in his mouth. His tongue swirled around my sensitive mushroom top slowly drawing me in. Somehow creating a whirlpool sensation on my cock with his mouth and saliva. I could see why he was so confident about his promise as it was easily the best blow job I had ever experienced.

He easily took my whole cock in his mouth, not stopping until he had completely deep-throated my cock

He then wowed me again as he grabbed my ass cheeks and pulled me deeper into his mouth somehow. “Shiiiiiit,” I whimpered, his mouth doing things to me I didn’t even know were possible.

Suddenly desperate to fuck him, I reluctantly pulled out of his perfect mouth and demanded, “Bend over faggot.”

He stood up and said, his tone surprisingly manly and in charge. “You are not in charge here, faggot, I am. Is that clear?”

I stammered, “S-s-sorry.”

“Tell me you’re my faggot,” he ordered.

“I am your faggot,” I instantly repeated.

He pulled his skinny jeans down and revealed he was wearing a bright pink thong.

Take my panties off, straight boy,” he ordered, his tone dripping with sarcasm.

I grabbed the thin fabric and pulled it down his legs revealing he had at least an eight inch cock which seemed so big on his petite girl-like body.

“Go ahead, suck it cocksucker,” he ordered.

I had come to fuck him and now I was back to being a submissive and oddly loving it. I took his cock in my mouth and tried to replicate what he had done to me. I don’t know how he created so much saliva while having my cock in his mouth, but I tried.

“Stop making love to it, queer,” he said, “bob up and down like the eager little cocksucker you are.”

Again such verbal insults should have infuriated me but instead had my cock flinching. I obeyed, trying to take as much of his cock in my mouth as possible.

After a couple of minutes of cocksucking, he pulled out and bent over the couch. I assumed he was finally going to let me fuck him, but instead he demanded, “Come lick my asshole, fag-boy.”

Again a new low of humiliation for me, yet the thought that he would eventually let me fuck him had me doing the disgusting task. I moved between his ass cheeks and paused as I stared at his white cheeks.

“Hurry up bitch, I don’t have all night,” he impatiently demanded, before adding, “now get licking.”

I put my hands on his ass cheeks and pulled them apart revealing the small rosebud. It was hard to believe looking at the tiny hole that it could fit my cock in it. I leaned forward, extended my tongue and began licking.

“That’s it straight-boy, become the ass-slut you were born to be,” he ridiculed, as I swirled my tongue around his rosebud.

The taste was surprisingly not disgusting, not great by any means but no worse than some of the slut pussy I had munched on over the years.

After a brief amount of time, he ordered, “Fuck my asshole with your tongue ass-licker, get it ready for your cock.”

My cock flinched at the implication that he was going to allow me to fuck him. I obeyed again, pushing my tongue like a small cock at his anal entrance. Slowly, but surely, I slightly penetrated his asshole and, although the act itself was so dirty, I felt a strange sensation of accomplishment at completing the task and hearing him moan.

“That’s it my pet,” he moaned, “you love my ass don’t you?”

“Yes,” I admitted awkwardly without taking my tongue out of his ass.

“And what are you willing to do to fuck it?” he asked.

“Anything,” I said.

“That is a pretty big scope of possibility,” he said amused.

“Anything,” I again repeated, so intoxicated by him.

“You will take me on a date tomorrow night?” he asked.

My eyes went big at the question and yet such a concept no longer revolted me. “Yes,” I agreed.

“Out to dinner and a show?” he asked.

“Wherever you want to go,” I offered.

“Hmmmm, and you will hold my hand and kiss me in public?” he pushed.

I hesitated briefly as he was clearly seeing just how far I would go. Yet realizing I was in a city no one knew me, I figured such acts would be humiliating but worth it. Plus, if I changed my mind tomorrow, I already would have fucked him. “With pleasure,” I finally answered.

“Tell me how sexy you think I am,” he asked.

“You are beautiful, um,” I began, realizing I didn’t know his name.

“Char,” he offered.

“You are beautiful, Char. Your lips, your eyes, your tight body and your ass are perfect,” I complimented, as I surveyed each curve.

“And my cock?” he questioned.

“As delicious as the rest of you,” I admitted.

“Fuck you are a cute little submissive straight boy, I might just keep you as my personal plaything,” he smiled.

“I am yours to play with,” I replied, without even realizing I had said it, the suggestion such a turn on.

“Hmmmm, I can’t wait to see what you say when you wake up in the morning,” he smiled, before adding, “Now come fuck me straight-boy. Learn what it is to really be pleasured.”

I didn’t need to be told twice as I quickly moved up behind his perfect ass and placed by cock between his ass cheeks.

“Slide it in, princess,” he purred.

I obeyed, pushing forward and slowly sliding inside his tightness. For a guy who I assumed has been fucked many times in his ass, it was tighter than any cunt I had ever been in. He easily took all six inches of me and once I was fully in I paused in such awe of how perfect I fit in him.

“Fuck your cock feels great in my ass, baby,” he moaned, his voice back to his girly gayness.

I slowly started moving in and out and each stroke seemed tighter than the last as if he was somehow tightening his ass around my cock.

“Fuck, you are so tight,” I groaned, as I began pumping faster.

“Just for you, princess,” he moaned back.

Being called princess was again a reminder of what had become of me and yet I just continued fucking his amazing ass. Thankfully having came a while ago on stage, I had a reasonable amount of stamina left in me.

“Harder bitch, fuck your boyfriend’s ass harder,” he demanded.

Being called his boyfriend surprised me and yet suddenly the idea was exciting. I obeyed, slamming into his tight ass as he continued to milk my cock with his ass.

“Tell me what you are,” he grunted, as I continued pounding him from behind.

“I’m a faggot,” I grunted; “a cocksucker,” I groaned; “a submissive queer,” I declared.

“And what else,” he asked, tightening his ass even more.

“Your boyfriend,” I admitted as I felt my balls explode into his ass.

“That’s it princess, shoot your cum in your boyfriend,” he grunted, meeting my thrusts with his ass.

“Fuck, yes, fuck,” I babbled, as the most exhilarating orgasm off my life filled me with a pleasure way more intense than I thought possible.

“Tell me you love me, princess,” he said.

“Oh fuck yes, I love you Char,” I declared, the words seemingly real even though they were absurd.

Spent, I pulled out of his ass and he turned around and ordered, “Suck me, bitch.”

I took his cock back in my mouth and bobbed back and forth desperate to take his cum.

As I sucked him like the cocksucking whore I had apparently become, he said in his high faggot voice, “You love being my boyfriend don’t you?”

I moaned in the affirmative.

“You will take me home to your parents and introduce me as your boyfriend,” he added.

The thought of my military father seeing me on my knees sucking cock suddenly popped into my head and fear cascaded through me.

“Say it cocksucker, tell me you will take me home to mommy and daddy,” he demanded, pulling his cock out of my mouth.

I stared up at him, pleading for him not to make me declare such a thing.

He tapped his cock on my lips and said, “Do as you’re told, faggot or you will never have me again.”

The thought suddenly seemed impossible. I had to feel his lips around my dick, I had to feel my cock in his ass, I had to taste his cum shooting down my throat. Finally, I told him what he wanted to hear, “Fuck yes, I will take you home and introduce you to my parents.”

“And show me of to your friends,” he added, outlining my lips with his mushroom top.

“Yes,” I agreed, so desperate to have his cock back in my mouth.

“Good boy,” he smiled, shoving hic cock back into my mouth. Surprisingly me again, he grabbed my head, holding me tight, and ruthlessly fucked my face, his balls bouncing off my chin each time he filled me.

I struggled desperately to not gag as he used me as his personal cum deposit. Thankfully, his load came quickly as he coated my throat with a full load of gooey sweetness. There was so much cum I couldn’t swallow it all and some dripped out of my mouth and onto the floor.

Without even thinking, I lowered to the floor and licked the small pool of cum I had not swallowed.

“And you used to be straight,” Char said amused.

Sitting back up, I took his cock back in my mouth searching for any last remnants of his addicting seed.

He laughed, “I told you once you had me you would be addicted.”

Finally allowing his slowly shrinking cock to leave my mouth, I looked up and admitted, “I can’t believe how good that was.”

“So where are you taking me tomorrow?” he asked, looking down at me.

Standing up, I pulled him in for a kiss. As our tongues swirled around each other exploring every crevice of each other’s mouths, I realized I had long sobered up. I also realized that everything I had just done with Char was of my own cognition. Although I wasn’t sure I loved him, that seemed pretty extreme after just one time (even though my parents fell in love at first sight), but I strangely had feelings inside me right now that were unlike anything I had ever felt when I thought I was in love.

Breaking the kiss and looking into his crystal blue eyes, I said, “Wherever my boyfriend wants to go.”

“You are such a faggot,” he joked.

“Your faggot,” I quipped back.

“That you are,” he smiled as he bent back over and said, “Now come clean your boyfriend’s ass. Your cum is leaking out of me like crazy.”

One final test, one final humiliation…eating my own cum. Yet, willing to do anything to please him (when had I become submissive?), I looked around at the bar that had changed my life (had this all began just a couple of hours ago with me hoping to get laid?), shook my head at the craziness of it all (had I really been the centerpiece of a gay orgy?), before falling to my knees (I was getting pretty used to being in this position) and burying my face in my boyfriend’s ass (did I really have a boyfriend) to retrieve my cum.

If this wasn’t love, I don’t know what was.


Back at my hotel, after having my ass-fucked by Char once more in a lengthy fuck session, I checked my phone messages and saw two from Bill.

I hope you are enjoying yourself.

No reply. You must be buried deep in cock.

A smile crossed my face as I texted him back:

When I return tomorrow your ass is mine Bill!!!

My cock suddenly hard again at the revenge I had in mind, I returned to the bed and asked Char, “Ready for one more round, baby?”

The End

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Robert Anderson wrote

Sounded heavenly!! Nicely written, wish it were me. Though I wouldn’t have had to be ‘forced’ much!! Yum.