Untitled @dippingredneck - Tumblr Blog

It was Robby’s first college party and he was understandably pretty nervous. Being a freshman at a party full of juniors and seniors could be pretty intimidating. Besides that, he only knew two other people at the party, and had always been pretty shy.

That’s until he turned the corner into the living room and saw Brett his R.A. shooting pool at the table they had set up. Robby recognized Brett’s cute face and short red hair. But most of all, he noticed Brett’s huge badonkadonk ass sticking out as he leaned forward to make a shot.

Brett’s ass was a thing of legend. Everyone on his floor joked that if you broke any dorm rules, Brett would smother you with his ass until you swore to never break the rules again. As a junior, this was Brett’s second year as an R.A., so who knows how many guys he allegedly sat on for punishment.

And if you really pissed him off, he’d wait until after a baseball game, where he was the team catcher, and he’d skip the shower after the game was finished, come find you and smother you with his sweaty ass.

Robby was in awe of Brett’s booty, and he’d only seen it close up a couple of times. It was indeed impressive, and Robby could only dream of what it smelled like in between those hot cheeks.

“Alright, that’s two down!” Brett yelled as he sunk the eight ball to finish the game. “Who wants to be number 3?” he asked looking around the room.

“Come on, five bucks to buy in who wants it,” Brett said, with a cocky grin. “Hey you, from my floor,” Brett said, pointing his stick right at Robby, “play me, man.”

Robby froze, not sure if Brett was talking to him, and secretly wanting to disappear into the wall if he was.

“Come on, Robby, right?” Brett said re-racking the balls. “One game, five bucks.”

“Uh…no that’s fine…I’m not too good at pool…I don’t have five bucks any way,” Robby said, thinking he would get out of this.

Brett slowly walked over to Robby and put his hand on Robby’s shoulder. Robby could feel the heat coming off of Brett and could smell the testosterone teaming from his pits.

“Don’t worry man, I’ll put up my five if you win. And if I win, I’ll come up with something,” Brett said as he pulled Robby to the pool table.

“You’ll sit on his face, won’t you B.!” yelled one of Brett’s buddies from the other side of the table.

“Yeah man, give him the Brett Booty punishment,” another joked.

“Please that would be a prize for winning,” Brett said smiling and giving his ass the slightest jiggly toward the group behind the table.

Robby had no idea what he was getting in to, but he had some experience with billiards, and God knew it was too late for him to back out now.

The game was quick, but competitive. Robby got the first two balls in, and Brett was pretty impressed. Then Brett went on a four ball run, and started taking control. It was back and forth for a while, and before any one knew it, there was only the eight ball left.

Robby probably would have done a lot better if he wasn’t constantly picturing Brett’s monster ass each time he bent over. Of course, everyone who walked by the game would give Brett a good luck slap on the ass, to the cheers of all Brett’s buddies.

Robby came within a few inches of making the eight ball, but just missed. With the final shot only a few inches away, Brett easily sank the eight ball to the cheers of the crowd.

“That’s three, baby!” Brett yelled. “Undefeated!”

Robby, embarrassed and wanting to leave tried to slip away from the crowd.

“Don’t worry Robby, I’ll find a way for you to pay for this,” Brett smiled as he patted Robby on the back. For such a cocky guy, Brett was actually not as mean as he could be.

Robby sunk away and joined his other friends, not telling them what had just happened. The night drug on for an hour more, and Robby was getting ready to head back to the dorms.

Wanting to pee before he left, Robby snuck upstairs to the bathroom, with no one else in sight. After taking care of business he washed his hands and headed down the hall toward the stairs.

And then he saw Brett standing right at the landing of the staircase waiting for him.

“Hey Robby, great game man,” Brett said, smiling. “You were my best competition all night.”

“Oh thanks Brett, it was fun,” Robby said, trying to make his way around Brett’s big ass and down the stairs.

“Yeah, it’s too bad you didn’t have $5 to bet, it would’ve saved you a lot of trouble,” Brett said as he put his arm around Robby’s shoulder and pulled him close.

“Yeah, I’ve got some cash back at the dorm I can give it to you tomorrow,” Robby said, trying to pull away.

“Nah, man, I think I’ll taking my prize right now,” Brett growled as he pushed Robby toward the open bedroom door. Brett’s body was so much bigger than Robby’s he was able to force him into room without even using his arms or legs.

Robby fell to the ground as Brett locked the door behind them. There was a single lamp on, dimly lighting the room.

Robby cowered in front of Brett’s hulking frame, as Brett kicked off his shoes and stood in front of Robby. Robby could smell Brett’s sweaty socks as well as the other pheromones that were leaking from his muscular body.

“There really isn’t much to explain,” Brett said calmly. “You made a bet. You lost the bet. Now it’s time for you to pay. And I don’t want you to think that my buddies were joking when they said that my ass is how you’re going to pay.”

“But Brett, I…” Robby tried to speak.

“No faggot! You lost means you pay! On the bed now, your feet at the head of the bed, your head hanging off the end, belly up! Now!” Brett yelled like a drill sergeant and Robby was too scared and too turned on to refuse.

Robby laid motionless, afraid to look at what Brett was doing. He peaked open in his fear, to see Brett removing his white basketball shorts from his huge ass. When Brett bent over his ass spread wider and looked even bigger, if that was possible.

Brett threw his shorts in the pile with his shoes and bent over a second time to remove his skin tight boxer briefs. Now Robby was getting a look at the real thing. Brett’s white skin stood out in the dark room and Robby could see the enormity of Brett’s backside.

Before he could savor it too long, Brett tossed his boxer briefs right at Robby’s face. They hit him straight on and besides the feeling of the soft fabric, Robby could smell the masculine scent of Brett’s balls, taint, and ass all over the underwear.

Unable to control himself, Robby let out an audible moan.

“Oh you like that, huh?” Brett said as he walked over to Robby’s reclined body. “Well if you think that was good, just wait until you experience the real thing.”

Brett grabbed the briefs from Robby’s face and threw them on the ground. He turned away from the bed so his ass was right above Robby’s face.

“Kiss my cheeks,” Brett said calmly. Robby needed no more instructions. He lifted his neck slightly and planted two wet kisses on Brett’s massive ass cheeks.

“Aw yeah baby,” Brett moaned and slowly squatted down onto Robby’s face. “Now just sniff, boy. No licking, just smell.” Robby did exactly as he was told, taking a deep breath in of Brett’s masculine scent. His nose was touching the hairs of Brett’s ass crack, and he could tell that Brett’s trench was soaking wet. The scent was strong and heady, and very masculine.

“How does it smell boy?” Brett asked.

“It..it smells amazing,” Robby moaned.

“Like a man?” Brett asked.

“Yes, like the ass of a most masculine man,” Robby responded.

“Do you like it, boy?” Brett asked.

“Yes,” Robby said, completely unashamed.

Brett started moving his ass over Robby’s face, marking him with his sweat and his scent.

“You’re gonna reek of it once I’m done with you boy,” Brett said.

Robby could feel his face getting drenched in Brett’s ass sweat as his crack hairs ticked Robby’s face. He wanted so badly to taste Brett’s ass but knew he had to wait until he was given permission.

After a few minutes of Robby’s face getting smothered, Brett calmly said, “Lick.”

Like a starving animal, Robby started licking Brett’s ass with a ferocious hunger. He lapped at Brett’s crack, tasty the salty, sweaty flavor of Brett’s trench.

“Come on dude, open me up,” Brett commanded, and Robby took that as an invitation to spread Brett’s massive cheeks wide open. This was the first feel of Brett’s ass that Robby got, and he loved the feeling of the two massive globes in his hands. He jiggled them back and forth as he licked Brett’s eager ass.

And as he spread the cheeks, he could feel his tongue touching Brett’s most intimate place: his hole.

Robby strained his tongue to get at Brett’s sweat hole. With each swipe, Robby heard Brett gasp as Robby’s tongue touched his pucker.

“Oh fuck yeah,” Brett whined. Robby could tell that Brett was stroking his cock by now, and he was figuring out that Brett had lost control of this situation. It was Robby who controlled Brett now, as he pleasured his huge ass with his hungry tongue.

Robby went deeper and deeper with his tongue as he spread Brett’s ass wide. With each whimper from Brett, Robby licked harder and harder, sniff deeper and deeper. His face was completely immersed in Brett’s ass sweat and his own spit.

“Oh God, boy, I’m gonna blow,” Brett yelled as he started to buck against Robby’s face.

Robby felt his tongue touch the inside of Brett’s hole as he gaped open with each spurt of cum from his jock cock.

Brett somehow stayed squatting against Robby’s face as he unleashed his cum. And without even touching himself, Robby felt his cock, straining against his tight jeans, release his own load of teen boy cum all over his briefs.

Brett collapsed onto his knees, releasing Robby’s face from the heavenly prison of Brett’s ass cheeks.

Brett turned toward Robby and wiped the sweat from his brow. He then leaned in without saying a word, and gently kissed Robby on the mouth.

“You smell like ass, bro,” Brett said smiling, and gave him another deep kiss.

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Shower time with Dad. Enjoying His huge Godcock and eating His shithole. Dad let me have a nice big lip of spiked cum after.

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“Sure, fag. I’ll give you a ride to the polls. And on the way, I’m gonna tell you who you’re voting for.”

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Cam.

It had begun so innocently, well maybe not entirely innocently. I’d been listlessly scrolling through porn sites one night having a half hearted wank when I came across one of those adverts for live cam sites. You know the sort, good looking guys that go on camera for tips, flirt with the guys watching and, if you’re willing to pay, will give you the kind of show you want in a private chat. I’d looked at these sites before and I admit I found it kinda hot to see these guys interacting in real time rather than the forensic memory that is porn, and I’d dipped in now and then at just such moments.

Bored, I clicked on the site. It turned out that my browser remembered some log in details I’d forgotten so I signed in, pleased to see I had some tip tokens left from whenever I’d joined. I decided to browse the guys online and just give the tokens to the first guy to get me hard.

There was a broad mix of types of guy available, smooth twinks, muscle dudes, college jocks, daddies. I’d always had a soft spot for college guys, you know the kind, preppy, clean cut, athletic, confident to the point of arrogance. Maybe it was a throwback to my time in college, or even in school, when I’d secretly lusted after half the football team. They, of course, had barely registered my existence, and then only to look down on me. Strangely enough that had only made me want them more.

Memories of those times were in my mind as I scrolled through the images, each handsome young face reminding me of one or other of the guys I would have done anything to get close to. Then I saw one that took me back to a specific moment I hadn’t thought of in a long time.

It was in the dying weeks of my senior year of highschool and the whole class had turned into a constant prank war as the kids finally saw the light at the end of the tunnel. Naturally some of these pranks were really just an excuse for bullying and, at lunch of the Monday of the second to last week of school I was ambushed in front of the whole lunchroom by blond haired, blue eyed Brent Hammond and two of his wrestling team buddies. His buddies grabbed my arms and easily pulled me to the ground so that I was on my back, legs flailing. Before I could do anything Brent was over me. I saw a brief glimpse of his laughing face before it was eclipsed by his ass as he lowered it towards my head. I turned away as best I could but there was no avoiding it as Brent let rip the loudest fart I’d ever heard. It seemed to echo around the room, or maybe it was just my head. Enough people heard because I began to hear laughter from nearby. The smell was pretty bad, but nothing compared to the humiliation I’d felt. They let me up quickly enough but the damage done, and I ran from the room and locked myself in the furthest bathroom. As I sat there on the can, reliving the experience, I found my dick was hard and started I jerking it, images of Brent’s ass and his smug, laughing face in my mind until I hard the hardest orgasm of my young life, painting the cubicle wall with my cum. I was so confused and ashamed by what had happened and by my reaction to it that I had put it out of my mind for decades since, but it was now flooding back to me.

When I saw the pic come up on the screen I thought for a second that it actually was Brent. He had the same short, blond hair and cool blue eyes, chiseled jaw softened by a boyish face and an amused expression, but this guy was calling himself Cam. I guess he didn’t look far for an alias when signing up. But, of course, it wasn’t Brent. It couldn’t be, he’d be 40, my age now, and when I clicked on the room and Cam’s cam came up I saw that he was clearly his own man.

Cam was sat on his bed, back against the head board. He wore a white tank top that draped over his broad chest, his lightly hairy armpits exposed as he lounged in a posture of supreme comfort and confidence, sometimes bringing his arms down to type a response to one of the many compliments flooding his chat feed. His thick, muscular legs were spread in front of him, his thighs appearing early from the bunched up fabric of his athletic shorts. Cam definitely looked like he could wrestle, I thought.

I just sat at my home office desk, watching for a while, admiring this young athlete’s body. Broad shoulders rounded into biceps like small hills before on to forearms where the faint blue of veins meandered under soft, white skin. I looked to his thighs again, muscles straining at the nylon of his shorts. I followed them up to his crotch, full of masculine promise. Finally I looked at his taint, and then his meaty ass as it pressed into the cushioning bed and I was back again under Brent’s ass, smelling him. I started rubbing at my crotch, my dick growing all five inches. That was the deal I’d made with myself and so I pulled out my dick and with my free hand clicked and tipped the remaining credits I’d had to this perfect blond jock. I settled down to slowly finish myself off watching Cam, with his hot body and his hotter attitude but I saw him type something and a private message came up on my screen.

Cam - You can do better than that.

I’d be lying if I told you my dick didn’t throb when I read it. Being addressed directly by a young god like Cam was already a real turn on, but to be given a direction…

Me - You think I should?

A moment and I saw him smile before typing.

Cam - I think you need to, don’t you?

Cam then reached down and grabbed his crotch and I could clearly see the outline of his dick. Either he was seriously boning up or he was seriously huge. Either way it looked bigger than mine was at that moment, which was as big as mine ever got. I was so turned on that I didn’t want this interaction to end so I took my hand off my dick and added some credit from my card to the site. Once the transaction was clear I quickly sent another tip to Cam, larger than the first. A few moments passed as I watched the feed. Cam had brought one leg up to cross the other at his thigh, his big foot now visible. I’d always had a thing for a hot jock dude’s feet and Cam’s had me drooling both ends. He typed a reply.

Cam - Good boy. Let’s take this to a private show.

I looked over the page and found the icon to request a private session. It would cost more but I was too horny to think about that and thirty seconds later a new video chat window opened as the other closed, though the view was the same.

“Hey, boy.” A deep voice came from my PC speakers, surprising me. “Can you hear me, boy? I can hear you.” I hadn’t expected this. I guess voice chat is a benefit of the private shows. I hadn’t realised I had my mic switched on, though.

“Yes,” I said, a little discombobulated. “Yes, I can hear you.”

“Ok, turn on your cam.” He said. “I like to see who I’m talking to.

I quickly pulled the webcam from the desk drawer where I’d stowed it months ago and clumsily fiddled to plug the cord into the PC.

“Faster.” Cam said. “I don’t like waiting.” Anyone would have thought he was the one who had paid for the show, but there I was less than two minutes in and I was following his orders. But, damn, it was hot. This guy seemed to exude confidence and authority in spades, from his body, to his demeanor, to his deep, masculine voice that belied his youthful face.

“I’m sorry,” I said as I finally felt the plug go into the appropriate hole. I sat back down and quickly tried to compose myself before clicking on the little camera icon on the screen that would start my feed. I saw my face appear in a small box in the corner, just next to Cam’s foot. The image was dark and I was mostly just a pair of glasses reflecting the screen so I turned on the desk lamp, illuminating me. Man, I looked tired and old, I thought. Maybe it was just the unfairness of the comparison to Cam that I was being forced to make.

“Good boy.” Cam replied, smiling. It felt strangely thrilling to be called “boy” by this guy who looked to be half my age. Perhaps Cam noticed some sign of excitement on my face. “So, you like to be called ‘boy’?” He asked.

“Er, yes. Yes, it’s kinda nice.” I replied, smiling nervously. It was strange to see myself react, it was almost schoolboyish the way the shyness spread over me at his words.

Cam laughed. “So, boy. Tell me. Why did you pick my room tonight?” He leaned back with his hands behind his head again, showing those deep, sweat damp armpits, those peaked biceps, that broad chest slowly rising and falling. Cam clearly already knew one answer to the question, but I gave it anyway.

“Well, you have an incredible body.” I said, more at ease now. Cam smiled and flexed a few poses from the sitting position.

“Yeah, I get a lot of fags get wet for my body.” I was taken by surprise by his use of the word “fag”. That’s something else that hadn’t happened since highschool, being called “fag”. Pretty sure Brent had done so on several occasions and so rather than feeling insulted I felt my dick twinge. I reached for it instinctively and jerked myself a little. Cam laughed again.

“Looks like we found something else you like being called, huh faggot?” Cam was grinning now, eyes full of mischief. Damn, he looked so fucking handsome, even more so for the derisive amusement playing in his eyes and at the tips of his smile. I found myself stroking faster.

“Yes.” I said.

“It’s ‘yes Sir’ to you, fag. It’s time you learned what I like to be called.” Said Cam. His own hand was now at his crotch and he was lazily fondling his fat dick and big balls through his shorts. I stroked myself faster and I could feel myself getting close. “Hands of your dick, faggot. You cum when I say, and I’m just starting with you.” Cam’s smile had disappeared, as had the laughter from his voice. I quickly pulled my hand away. “Good faggot.” Cam said. “Now keep your hands on the desk where I can see them.” I promptly complied and placed both hands palm down on the desk, the surface felt cool after the heat of my dick.

“Yes Sir. I’m sorry Sir.” I said, feeling more like a schoolboy than ever.

“That’s okay, faggot. I know you can’t help yourself. My body makes you weak, doesn’t it?” Cam lifted the hem of his tank, exposing his perfect eight pack, smooth and white but for a light dusting of hair making a happy trail to the bad of his shorts. I licked my lips, memorised.

“Yes Sir. It does. You’re perfect.” I said, and he was.

“Why don’t you show me how weak you are for me, faggot.” Cam said. “Send me another tip. Make it a big one, faggot. You know I deserve it.”

Fuck, he was pushing my buttons hard now. Cam clearly knew what he was doing as little by little he was becoming more domineering, using his looks, his body, his words and voice to manipulate me.

“Yes Sir,” I said and straight away was adding more credit. I added twice what I had the time before and hit send, my dick throbbing hard in anticipation of his recieving it, of pleasing this young god who had so easily gotten me hooked on his line.

“How did that feel, faggot? Did it make your little dick twinge when you hit send?” Cam was looking into the camera, his clear blue eyes fixed on me. He knew he was right, he just wanted me to say it.

“Yes Sir, it felt good.” I said and Cam flashed his perfect, white teeth.

“I thought it would.” He said. “I had you pegged for a cash faggot as soon as you went private with me. When you’ve had as many losers throw their cash at you as I have you learn to spot them.”

I was speechless for a moment. I’d vaguely heard the term before but hadn’t really understood it. “What do you mean, Sir?”

Cam sat forward, coming closer to the camera. “I mean,” he said, suddenly serious, “that you’re the kind of faggot that gets off on handing over money to men like me, men who are half the age but ten times the man, men who treat you like the little bitch you know you’ve always been. Tell me I’m wrong, faggot. Tell me your little nub isn’t hard and leaking right now.”

His words seemed to be bypassing my rational mind. Everything about what he was saying should have made me close the video there and then and forget all about it, about him, but I couldn’t do it. My dick was fully in control now, or rather Cam was in control and he was using my dick to do it. Either way the effect was the same as, with a rush of both deep shame and exhilaration I whispered. “Yes Sir.”

“Speak up, faggot.” Cam said. “Tell me what you are.”

“I’m a cash faggot, Sir” Fuck, that shame again. It seemed to race from my guts straight to my dick, making it twitch again.

“Louder, faggot.” Said Cam. Damn, he seemed to be enjoying this.

“I am a cash faggot, Sir.” I said again, louder this time. The words echoed reprovingly around my office walls.

“Who’s cash faggot, bitch?” Said Cam, his own voice getting louder.

“Your cash faggot, Sir.” I was revelling in the control this young jock had taken of me. Cam had so easily subdued me, and the powerlessness it had engendered in me was more erotic than anything I’d felt.

“That’s right, bitch. You’re my cash faggot. My wallet, my ATM. Man, I’m gonna enjoy emptying your bank account bitch. Are you ready for it?” My dick was saying yes but something in me still resisted a little.

“I’m, I’m not sure Sir.” I said.

“Then lets make you sure.” Cam said. “You got any poppers? All you losers seem to have them”

I was ashamed to say he was right, I had a sealed bottle in the drawer next to me. I’d spent many nights in front of that computer, sniffing poppers and edging to porn. That’s probably what I’d have ended up doing that night had I not clicked on that link.

“Yes Sir, in the drawer.” I said, still conscious of keeping my hands on the desk.

“Get them.” Was all Cam said and I quickly pulled the drawer out, rummaged for a moment before pulling out the small bottle and showing the camera.

“Here Sir.”

“Good boy. Now open them. When I start counting down I want you to start sniffing, and keep on sniffing until I tell you to stop. Got it faggot?” I looked again into Cam’s eyes and saw that authority again.

“Yes Sir,” I said, quickly unwrapping and opening the bottle.

“Ok, homo. Bottle to your nose and ten…sniff deep faggot, feel your head start spinning….nine…deeper bitch….eight…. imagine my big, fat jock dick…seven…it’s rock hard, dripping precum…six…it’s lining up at the lips of your wallet pussy…five…teasing the lips with the head, getting you nice and wet…four…feel the head pushing in, stretching you open…three…your begging for it now, begging for me to thrust into you cash pussy…two…you’re going crazy, you want to get fucked so bad…one..thrusting hard, I’m deep inside you now, fucking the cash out of you. Now, bitch, hit that send button again. Gush that cash to me.”

His words were hypnotic and the poppers were making my head spin, turning my usually dull office into a carnival ride. The combination had the effect that I’m sure Cam intended. I could almost feel his dick in me and all I wanted to do at that moment was to please it, to please him. Despite my blurring vision and racing heart I was able to type in a new amount and hit send. It was more than last time, a lot more, but at that moment I had completely lost control to this cruel, blond Adonis.

“Haha, yeah faggot. That’s what I’m talking about. How’s it feel to get that pussy opened wide?” Cam said, leering at me.

“Great Sir.” Was all I could say.

“Damn right it did, faggot. That’s because you’re doing what your meant to, what you’re on this planet to do, bitch boy. Opening your wallet for real men to rape.” Cam had sat back again now. His bulge had grown and I could see the end of his long dick poking out of the left leg. He stroked it.

“Yeah, you like having this big dick deep on that cash pussy don’t you, queer?” He said as he continued to grope his fat hard-on.

“Yes Sir, I love it. I love you.” I said. Whatever resistance I’d had was utterly gone now. I was completely under the thumb of this douchebag young jock and he knew it.

“I know you do, faggot.” Cam said. “All you pussy boys do. All you want is a real man to take control and show you what you’re good for.”

“Yes Sir, thank you Sir.” I said, and meaning it.

“You’re welcome, loser. Now, enough with this tips bullshit. Time to start raping cold hard cash from you. You want that?”

“Yes Sir, please. I need it. I need your dick in my cash pussy.”

“Then open up PayPal, cunt. I wanna leave you poor.” Cam said. I clicked open the PayPal app and entered the details.

“It’s open Sir.” I said.

“Good bitch. Now start sniffing again. I want you to take a deep, long sniff and then beg me to empty your account.” I brought the poppers to my nose again, sniffing hard and deep until I was buzzing hard again.

“Please Sir, please empty my account. I want you to wreck me Sir.” Cam grinned that malevolent grin and I melted. Damn, he looked so much like Brent in that moment, it was the same expression Brent had had as he lowered his ass onto my face, the expression of joy that a stronger man has at subduing and humiliating a weaker one.

“Sure thing, homo. Since you asked so nicely. Open wide and gush that fag cash again. Show your Master what a good little pay bitch you are.”

I don’t know what came over me but I found myself typing in half of what I had. Fuck, Cam was truly in my head. I hit send. Cam burst out laughing when he saw it come in at his end.

“Damn, slut. You really are thirsty, arent you?” He had pulled his dick out fully now. It stood out a good nine inches from his lap, the same soft skin over unyielding hardness that made up his whole body.

“That was half, Sir.” I said, trying to make him proud, trying to get some approval.

“Only half?” Was Cam’s reply. “I think I’m gonna need the rest, don’t you fag? You need to give it all up to your God, don’t you?” He flexed again, cockily kissing his biceps.

“Yes Sir. Please take it all.” I replied.

“Ok fag, get ready. One more deep thrust. Sniff those poppers, turn that faggot brain into mush and zero out for me. Wreck that pussy.” Cam got up on his knees, bringing his hard dick closer to the camera, jerking it. I hit the poppers again, then typed in the last of the cash.

“Ready Sir.” I said.

“Ok, cunt. Stroke that nub as you send. I want you to cum as you lose the last of your cash, bitch. I want you to cum knowing your Master has emptied you out.” I started stroking furiously until, as my climax approached it’s crescendo I hit send for the last time that night. Cum erupted from my dick, more than I’d cum since I was at highschool, in that bathroom, with the stink of Brent’s ass in my nose and the sound of laughter still echoing in my ears.

“Yeah, that’s it faggot. Yeah, fuck.” Cam was stroking furiously now. I watched his hand become a blur as it moved up and down his cock until, grunting, he shot strand after strand of thick white cum, splattering the bed in front of him as I had splattered myself.

We both spent a moment in the privacy of our own post orgasm comedowns, breathing heavily. It was Cam who broke the silence.

“So, how’s it feel to get your first cash rape, pig?” He said.

“I, er, I don’t know Sir.” Was all I could find to say. My head was in pieces. Cam laughed.

“Yeah, it’ll take a while to sink in, bitch, but there’s no turning back now. I’m in your head, I’m in your wallet, and I’m never leaving.”

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“Go get in a pen and stay there. Gays are just stupid animals that are easily domesticated. Ain’t that right? You’re gonna go do it just cuz I said so, ain’t ya?”

“If I do it, do I have to stay there very long?”

“Hahaha! I can’t believe you’re actually gonna do it! Just fucking go get down on all fours and stay there the entire weekend since you’re gonna do anything I say.”

“Yes, Sir. Just another stupid farm animal.”

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I Was Just Being Ironic, Bro

That’s how it started, you see. With irony. With a joke. A joke Daniel made about grabbing em by the pussy. Jared said it was kinda offensive, man. Daniel doubled down, saying he was just being ironic, explaining how he’d never be that misogynist, obviously.

Jared did end up laughing, just not wanting to be rude more than anything. I mean, they were friends and obviously Daniel didn’t swing that way.

But one joke turned into another joke, days later. And another. And the ways things were spiraling, soon the two roommates – they lived in a shared house of four – were joking about it all the time. Pretending to be alt-right. Pretending because it was fun, it was funny, it was something to do, a way to make fun of guys who acted like that while simultaneously getting to feel what it was like to be that sort of guy themselves.

They were pretty regular guys. But it became funny to pretend they were jock studs, too. “I dare you to work out, bro,” Daniel goes one night. “I fucking dare you. If you can do 100 pushups consecutively, I’ll even let you grab me by the pussy,” Daniel goes, grabbing his own cock and balls through his shorts for emphasis, which wasn’t hard since he was freeballing that night.

“Oh yeah?” Jared said, “Watch this, bro.” He only made it to fifteen, laughing, but they kept up their dare. Jared was building some pipes on those arms. And months later, after a few shots of whiskey, he hit one hundred pushups for the first time in his life.

“Dude, if I’m gonna grab you by the pussy, I want to see you wearing those Old Glory shorts.” Yeah, the shorts Daniel bought to be ironic. Jared knew those.

And he did grab Daniel’s cock and balls through the shorts, holding onto them tight, laughing, squeezing. “Ouch, dude, that fuckin’ hurts,” Daniel said. It was hilarious. They were so drunk.

But then it was Jared’s turn to dare Daniel, saying he should get as pumped as he was, that is if he could ever catch up. “I’m working on 120 pushups, bro, and look at you. Fuckin’ puny. Little Daniel. I dare you, bro. You can grab me by the pussy if you ever catch up.”

Daniel wasn’t one to back down from a challenge. And soon his guns were just as big, if not bigger. Their jokes were becoming almost infamous in the house.

“Drop and give me 20, Daniel. ‘Merica!” “Come on, tiny hands, let’s see if you can beat me at arm-wrestling.” “Aww, so hot, bro. You and that MAGA cap. I bet you’ll be able to score all the pussy you want if you wear that out to the bars.” “Lock her up, lock her up!” Daniel said to Jared when he was drunk off his ass, trying to tie him to his chair with rope. The guys loved horsing around.

Jared and Daniel both had American flag shorts, now. They had flag tank tops, t-shirts, hats, even MAGA caps. They were getting to be pretty buff guys. Acting like right-wing jockbros had been ironic, but now they looked pretty convincing in the part after working out so much and buying the gear they bought. Vocal inflections, ironic at first, now sounded more and more legit as they got their impersonations down pat. Sometimes they’d go out and hit the bars, ham it up, see who they fooled, which was pretty much everybody.

They were good at this. It was fucking funny and fun as hell.

Drunk one night, Daniel found himself confessing to Jared that he thinks it’s really hot when Jared acts like a MAGA guy. “Yeah bro?” Jared said, “I think it’s hot too. Makes me feel hot. It’s like everything I secretly want to be when I’m like this.”

“Yeah bro?” Daniel said, “I think that’s so fucking hot, man. You look great as one of those guys. I almost feel like I could grab you by the pussy for real, bro.” “Why don’t you do it then, bro,” Jared said, “When we’re home. I fucking dare you, bro. Get those tiny hands on this big cock of mine. Bet you don’t have the balls.”

But turned out Daniel did have the balls, and when he took Jared’s cock in his mouth behind that locked bedroom door, all Jared could say was, “Fuck, bro. MAGA, bro. That’s so fuckin’ hot, bro,” before he came, five minutes later, flooding Daniel’s mouth with white hot cum.

Their workouts accelerated. Their jock act accelerated, too. And the sexual interactions began to pick up steam. It took a few weeks until they had the guts to get drunk enough for the second encounter. “Dude, I just… I swear I’m not queer or anything like that, but when you pull off your red-blooded true American act, when you really sound like you live to vote red, it just does something to me. It’s like a trigger. And you know I don’t swing that way either, but when you do sound really convincing… sometimes it makes me wish you would, even. Is that bad to say?” Daniel said.

“Nah, it’s not bad, bro,” Jared said, giving him a deep-tongued kiss. “It just means you’re in love with a real man and what a man’s meant to be. I think it’s hot, too. We should try to act like this all the time. Like, not break character even and really perfect it.”

And soon they weren’t even breaking character, buff as hell, jocked up as hell, and their secret sex life, well, it was getting hotter than ever. “Suck my cock, MAGA bro,” Jared would say, as Daniel, in nothing but an American flag jock strap and MAGA hat, worked his meat for a full hour, heavy metal blaring, Jared was just flexing and smirking down at him. Damn, this was hot. Look at the muscle Daniel has put on. And he was still putting on more all the time.

“Dude, sometimes I feel like you really are gonna vote Trump, like you really mean it. And you know how that makes me feel? So fucking hot dude, like hot enough that I’d even let you fuck my ass.” “Fucking awesome, man. Yeah, if you said you are gonna vote Trump, I would want to suck your cock even, man. I would fuck your ass for hours.”

“You dare me, bro? I’m starting to feel like we really should. I mean, the thought it so hot to me. I know it’s wrong but maybe it’s not. I don’t know why I think it’s so hot but it really is.”

“It’s because libtards ruined masculinity, man. Nature made us this way I’m pretty sure. Like I didn’t choose this. Nobody would.” “That’s so hot, man, oh my God, that’s so fucking hot. Hearing you say libtards.”

“Yeah, man?” Jared said. “Libtards. Fucking retarded limp-dicked libtards.”

Daniel was boned as hell. “You can say that to me anytime you want, man. I hope you do. Take it as seriously as you want to, all this MAGA stuff. I think it’s so much hotter when you really get into it. I want to get all the way into it. Fuck, man, I want to vote Trump.”

“Do it, dude. It makes me hard to hear that. I think I’d be rock hard at this point if I voted for Trump on November 3.”

“You should fucking do it, dude. If you swear you’re voting Trump, you can fuck me. I love you like this. So hot, bro.”

“Fuck yeah it’s hot, bro.”

It wasn’t long after that until the guys were really pushing it with each other. Jared would even choke Daniel, getting him to swear that he was proud to be an American and that he was voting Trump. That was hot. “Lick these MAGA pits,” Jared would say, and Daniel would, drooling and slobbering and moaning over the fur, sweat and musk there.

Jared got down on his knees and sucked Daniel’s cock for hours while Daniel streamed a litany of MAGA-related lines to him, told him everything he wanted to hear about being a real man, told him everything about what he was becoming. It was almost hypnotic. It was hot as hell so the guys just kept doing it with each other. What was Verboten was hot.

Their roommates thought they were acting crazy, which was kind of funny because they didn’t even see the sexual encounters or seem to catch on to any of it. As least Jared and Daniel hoped they didn’t, and part of them thought, fuck it, if those guys really saw any of it or figured it the fuck out, they were just libtards anyhow. Who really gives a fuck what libtards think? And it was hot to snicker about what losers their roommates were, even though they liked this living arrangement. It was hot to just casually chill around the house in American flag shorts or in a flag bandana or in Jared’s flag tank top from Urban Outfitters. If the roommates asked, they usually just tossed it off as being ironic or made a joke about it. “’Merica, bro,” Jared would say and laugh.

“You closet case,” Daniel would say, pulling Jared in behind the door and locking it, pulling him in for a kiss. “Yeah, you like this though, bro,” Jared would say, kissing back. “Real men would never admit to this stuff. If I were a fagtard you wouldn’t be into me.” “Damn straight I wouldn’t,” Daniel said, squeezing his bro’s biceps. “Wouldn’t be into you if you were a wimp like you used to be, either.” “Fuck yeah, bro. You used to be so fucking weak, too. Now look at you. Total MAGA bro. So fucking hot, man. You’re like the American Fag Wet Dream or some shit, fucking love it,” Jared said, slobbering all over him in a passionate kiss.

“Dude, I fucking love it too, man. You should fuck me, man. Fuck me in the pussy, bro. I want your big, hard MAGA cock in there.”

“Yeah? Let’s fucking hump, man. I want to ride you like a cowboy, bro. It’s time, bro. Say you’re into Trump, bro.” “You know I’m into Trump, bro. Fuck my ass, dude. Make my pussy great again. This is so fucking hot, bro. I want you to take my cherry, bro. Lick my cherry, bro. That’d be so hot, bro.”

Jared found himself on his knees behind Daniel’s hairy ass, spreading apart his furry hole, teasing it with a finger, teasing it with his tongue. “MAGA, bro,” Daniel was saying, looking back at him as best as he could. “Fuck me in the pussy. You can do anything. Use my ass. Fuck my furry hole, bro.”

It was so hot. Jared was diving in with his tongue, slobbering on Daniel’s hole, getting it sloppy and wet, moaning and groaning, really getting into it as best as he could, grabbing his friend’s asscheeks with his hands and pulling them apart like a man in command. “Fucking MAGA!” Jared said, his voice sounding rough, wild, and beastly as he came up for air. This was so fucking hot.

“Fucking MAGA is right, bro,” Daniel said. “Eat my ass, bro. Eat my pussy. Kiss it. Grab my by the pussy, get your hands in there. I want you to wreck my fucking pussy, bro. You can do anything.”

Jared was going nuts on Daniel’s ass, and then he was mounting him, probing him at first with his cock and then sliding it in up to the hilt. “Take it, you fucking fag,” Jared said, gasping for air, feeling a shift, feeling a change in the air.

Just a minute before Daniel had been bossing Jared around. But with his cock in his friend’s pussy, he was having some sort of revelation, almost like the Book of Revelations, he thought, flashing back to Bible school, remembering the value of making a turn back to… it was confusing, hard to explain. This was such a profound moment. He didn’t want to fuck it up. He didn’t want to let his friend down. But he was realising something… he was the guy in command and Daniel, poor, bent-over Daniel below him, was being humiliated by having taken a cock up his ass. Daniel wasn’t a real man at all. Daniel was more like some sort of fag, Jared thought, realising that it had been almost instinctual to call his former friend a faggot as soon as he slid it in. And then Jared realised the truth: he already thought of Daniel as a former friend.

“You fucking fag bitch, take it,” Jared shouted, louder this time, hearing his own masculine voice echo off the walls in the small bedroom. Daniel was just moaning and panting like the fag he probably was. And when Jared finally came, reaching around to grip onto Daniel’s broadened pecs, his firm, thick-ass MAGA pecs, Jared realised that Daniel was now just a fag to be used. A MAGA fag was better than a regular fag, though, and so Jared fully intended on making a lot of use out of his former friend’s newly widened hole. But never again would Jared be the one getting on his knees and sucking Daniel’s cock, oh no, as that would be wrong.

This would be about humiliating his former friend and ripping his clothes off him behind locked doors from now, about making him suck cock only to spit on his face and make him lick the soles of Jared’s feet while Jared beat his meat. This would be about capitalising on Daniel’s need for a real man and getting him to hand over $50 if he wants a lot of kissing and heavy petting, which he was bound to agree to because he was such a sweaty, pathetic fag of a man. This would be about the kissing and heavy petting leading to drugging Daniel with roofies and raping that faggot’s hot hungry hole from now on. This would be about Daniel trying to cuddle in the morning and Jared pushing him the fuck off him, saying “I don’t cuddle with fags, so hands off me,” as Daniel just got even harder and beat his meat on the side of the bed just looking at Jared relax with his hands behind his head, smirk on his face. This would be about Daniel begging to lick Jared’s MAGA pits. This would be about Daniel desperately falling onto his knees to suck Jared’s MAGA cock, only to be slapped upside the head and spit on. This would be about Daniel waiting with his bare ass and exposed hole in the air, silently, on Jared’s bed when Jared got him so that Jared could get pissed off, call him a fag, slap that ass, and ram it in raw, saying “I hope it hurts, you fucking faggot, I’m gonna teach you a lesson you’ll never forget.”

But one thing wouldn’t change: even when the pain of taking a raw cock and receiving raw seed was so humiliating that Daniel had silent tears streaming down his face, even when Daniel was choking on Jared’s cock as he was being skull-fucked against his pillow, eyes glazed and staring upward at the face of a real man, the guys would still say “MAGA, bro” and fist-bump. Daniel knew it still turned Jared on to hear it, even from a fag such as himself, and he couldn’t help but use it as much as he could. Because Jared, after years of this hot reinvention of himself, had become the man of his dreams. And Daniel, fag that he was, serviced Jared in every way Jared could make use of, too. A fag was just a fag, but a hole was a hole, and Jared’s stretched out cunt was more than serviceable, even as it widened into an every more embarrassing, stretched-out cunt of a hole.

“Grab me by the pussy,” Daniel would still grunt when in the thrall of his lust with Jared. But by this point in time, Jared wasn’t using a finger or two, he was sliding his whole fist in there only to later hump and pound that ass until that hole was totally wrecked, jizz streaming out of it, the whole thing wide and brokeback as shit.

“You fucking cunt,” Jared would say. “You’re nothing at all anymore, just a sad excuse for a man, just a slutty, wide-open fag for me to use all night long. And I know you’ll love it, too. MAGA, fag boy.”

obedientdrone37-deactivated2020

I love the escalation into MAGA bros, but I’m still not into the degradation. I’m a MAGA bro that likes to take it up the ass by a real man, but I want to be loved and cared for.

playernber17

Ya me to bro

fagwhore4fratjockalphas

magafag1987

A God

realhankmccoy

Aware Wolf

“You’re a fucking fascist,” the subRedditor from 4chan said to me. I could picture his nattering little voice in my head. “Can’t anyone take a joke anymore?” I tried to argue back. “I was being ironic.” “Well, ContraPoints said in her video on the alt-right that ironic usage often leads to actual fascism, which is why it’s this sort of material is not acceptable to use, and why it needs to be stomped out. Before he transitioned to female, he noted that he was just ironically dressing as transgender, and look what happened, now he’s a she.”

These lefties were so paranoid, so crazy, so outright delusional. I took a swig of Fireball. I didn’t see myself as a leftie, more of a centrist. I voted for Obama, and held my nose and voted for Hillary, but I did thing the right-wingers had some points and were good Americans, too. Now even I’m the fascist? I took another swig. “What if there is truth to that?” I started to wonder. “What if I’m really turning alt-right and just ironically mocking them because it really is the path I’m headed down? I did know that sometimes, when I pretended to get all Fight Club, or when I interacted with right-wing ideas, even to mock them, it did get me kind of hard. It did get me kind of turned on. It was weird to admit. It wasn’t the ideas themselves, really. It was the barechested, testosterone-infused masculinity of it all. Most lefties were the sort of wet noodle who made itself hard to be attracted to, always calling me daddy, always insisting I pay for dinner, even though they were the ones with rich parents who still contributed to their bank accounts and fixed problems for them. They had nothing to offer. It was so frustrating, man. I’m a good person. Why does the world have to be so fucked up right now?

I slammed down the bottle on my desk. Sometimes just acting like a pissed off man felt good to me. I didn’t really act like that, but just would act so for myself – for effect – when nobody’s around. I took one more swig. Just because this had been such a crazy day and they were being such. little. bitches. online… I took a swig. I seriously feel like I could punch through the particle board of the basement door right now just for effect. Just to see what punching through a board feels like. I wonder if it would hurt my hand. The door was probably weak enough… it needed to be replaced anyhow due to a hinge not fitting the frame right…. POW it goes. I hit it as it splinters. That was the trigger, I realised three months later. The trigger online that caused the change, that helped me find my true nature, the trigger that brought me to my true identity. That was the moment I decisively answered the call of my own destiny and fought back.

I searched out scientists. I found my injections, which helped me find the muscle and body hair my body had previously been lacking in. My cock started leaking more pre, and I had to cum at least twice a day now most days, not once, because my sex drive was just so much naturally higher now, in part from all the active activity instead of online activity. I took up weight training, folkstyle wrestling, and Taekwondo. I started reading about the symbology, from the wolfsangel – I sometimes now refer to myself as a wolf trap – to the black sun – love that song, black hole sun by Soundgarden – to the Labrys, anything a lot of guys use to wash away the pain caused by these folks trying to push their degradations on the world.

There’s fur on these forearms now, fur that wasn’t there before. It just makes me feel hot, like I’ve wolfed out, like I’ve freed this beast that they had caged so long. It’s on my chest, too, crawls up above the collarbone even. Guys love it. Nothing like a furry chest rubbing against another furry chest, the feel of the hair entwining, the feel of your lover’s masculinity, the musk of his scent getting tangled up in your own fur, too.

My armpit goes from this smooth, shaved, clean place I used to hide under t-shirts to thicker and wilder by the day. The scant hair, week by week, was filling in, getting bushy, brambly, wild and thick, and with such a scent, man, sometimes I just flex and my own scent fills these nostrils and I feel like such a man. Such a fucking beast. A werebeast of sort, born of the hate and control mechanisms sent my way, and nothing gets me harder than the idea of utterly destroying the American left. Socialist Europe is too full of wimps, and the Eastern Bloc has seen a lot of masculine revival, which it never really lost hold of, it being a part of the culture for so long, so much depth there, man. Communism tried to kill the beast there, but it couldn’t. It’s different than our sissified nation. And these lefties, they love a guy like me, loathe as they are to admit it. Gets em so hard. So wet and leaking at the tip. I love to choke em and hurt their ass in bed, fuck knows they don’t have any skills so might as well make the experience violent. They don’t know how to be sensual and make a partner feel good, so why should I have to know it? Only I do know it, man, and I do make them feel good, but at the same time I know how to cunt them hard and make em scream. Just think how much hotter, how much more vain and sensual, how much more full of fucking sex and hot passion the world would be without them all…

I used to never show off this body in public now, but now I do. Love trying to catch guys catch a glimpse of this sweaty, ever-denser, increasingly-wiry pit fur and act like they aren’t trying to look. Act like they aren’t noticing… but I can see a lot. Call it the electric eye of a truly woke wolfman. Makes em hard. And I got an injection to get tonight, man, and just watch as a week or two from now, it’s gonna be even hairier, thicker and wolfier… there’s no other word for it, man, wolfier, I feel like a fuckin’ wolf now… and it feels soooo got when I got a tongue in there, even better a real man’s tongue, a man with the same values, same code signals, same highly sexual sensibility. You know what I mean about real men, dude. And if you want to know more, well… I highly encourage you find out. It started with just a little irony out of me, but look at me now.