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Big Bad Wolf
I'm sure you've heard the stories of the big bad wolf. It's a trope of every culture, a story we teach to our children and one that continues to fascinate us as adults, though we tell it in different ways. There's something tantalizing about the dark silhouette in the night and the promise of menace it holds.
Yes, a wolf hunts at night, and so at half past midnight I enter the club, passing through the cloud of neon lit steam that hugged the doorway. The bouncer, Dan, built like a brick shit house and only a little less scary than he looks knows me, of course. We exchange a nod and smile.
"Alright Vince." Dan says. "Group of college kids in tonight." He nods towards the stairs to the main floor and gives me a wink. Yeah, Dan knows my type and I return the gesture.
"Nice one. Been here long?" I ask. Always good to get intelligence on your prey. A nice, naive, drunk little college boy would be just the ticket tonight. I'd been on a work conference for four days with nothing but a surprised bell boy's face to fuck and I needed to unwind hard in some pretty little faggot's cunt.
"Not long." Said Dan. "But they seemed liked they'd had a fair bit already. I reckon they'll be pretty wasted by now."
"Sweet. Thanks for that. If I get lucky maybe I'll share." I said. Me and Dan had tagged teamed a pussy boy before once or twice. I tell you, it's a sight to behold seeing some 5'8" twink get bent like a pretzel by that brute, especially when I'm cutting of the faggot's crying with my cock. Dan smiles, maybe remembering the same thing.
"Yeah man, just hang around after closing. I'm locking up tonight." Said Dan. Well, that's was a bonus, I thought. Getting some dopey lad to stay after closing is easier than getting him to go home with you, and a bar is as good as a bed for the kind of fucking I had in mind.
Anyway, I was getting ahead of myself. I said see ya to Dan and headed inside to scope out the potential. I immediately saw the group that Dan had mentioned and saw why he'd singled them out to me. It was five or six lads, all around 18 or 19. They were obviously new to the world of grown up activities like drinking and dancing and were taking to it with an infantile verve. Perfect.
I went to the bar to get my usual, a neat whiskey with one cube. I sip it gingerly, preferring to stay sober and focused for now as I observe my prey. At first the group all merge into one, the way such groups do. All were dressed similarly yet just differently enough, all in some combination or colour of trousers, polo shirt, t-shirt, cap, a typical blend of safe fashion. These are boys who have not yet found who they are, the thing that makes them special and different, but perhaps tonight one of them would learn. But which one?
My attention focuses on one of the group. Any group of men will spontaneously form a hierarchy, however indistinct it can seem at times. If we are truthful as men then we all know this, and the most honest men know that there is nothing to be ashamed about finding and accepting your place in that pyramid. The frustrations many young men feel stem from their resistance to understanding and accepting this fact. And so as I observe the group I see their strata clarify, I see the leaders and I see the followers, and it's the followers that interest me. The boy that my instincts had focused on appeared to be one such follower. I watched as he engaged with the others, always being the first to laugh at their jokes, or step to the bar, and I saw his eyes follow his friends' asses to the dancefloor a couple times. He looked about 18, but only just, blond hair left just long enough to style and a cute, compact, to toned body that would look just perfect on the end of my 9". Yeah, the kid was ripe for taking. I saw him wander off towards the toilets and so I decided to follow.
Now, this club isn't strictly gay, but it's pretty mixed and definitely has a reputation for having a relaxed attitude, shall we say. That's partly what attracts groups like those lads, they treat it as a daring place to go. It always makes me chuckle when one finds out how relaxed it's can get here, and how relaxed they can get.
I got in the toilets and the kid is already at the urinal, trousers open and cock out but not doing much. Being the aggressive dick that I am I take the urinal right next to him, despite there being five other free spaces. Yeah, I'm not messing around. Of course, this is a public space and I'm not breaking any real rules so he just has to stand there trying to overcome his now no doubt very shy bladder as I casually unzip and flop out my fat, uncut meat. I admit I'm already semi hard by now, something about the nervous fear I feel radiating from the lad stood next to me turns me on. I'm bigger than him. I don't just mean that, at 6'2" I'm a head taller, and I don't mean that he looks like I could carry him like a gym bag, and I don't even mean that my dick makes the thing he's holding look like a different kind of organ entirely. I mean that he sensed what all men sense, that he was in the personal space of a predator.
He stood there in silence as I let out a sigh and let my heavy piss stream hit the back of the urinal, giving the kid plenty of time to see my dick doing one of its jobs. The spray came faster as my dick rose a little more, giving him a show. I decided to give him a little more so, aiming the stream further towards him I made the spray start to spatter the pale fabric of his trousers, my piss even landing on his hand, which he quickly withdrew. He didn't say anything, of course, and that's when I knew I had him. That's when I knew that this was exactly the kind of weak pushover that's perfect to be used and discarded.
Knowing now that I could push things further I finished my piss and, very deliberately this time so that there was no doubt in his mind that I knew exactly what I was doing, I turned to him with my dick still dripping piss and wiped the end in three strokes on the ass of his trousers. Though the kid still wouldn't look at me in the eye I knew I had his undivided attention as he stood there, almost shaking now as I leaned closer. My mouth found his ear and I took a breath of the scent of my prey. I whispered it out.
"I'm not sure I got it all. Get down and check." I told him, a growl in my voice that must have filled his ear along with my breath. I know a faggot's weak spots, that's what makes them so easy. I knew that by now his primal desire for self preservation will be urging him to be submissive to such an obvious superior, especially away from the supposed support of his group, cornered here alone. I also knew that his mind would still be full of the sight of my thick cock, a cock that had touched him, marked him. Like I said, this is some primitive stuff, but faggots aren't complicated. They respond best to simple messaging. I leaned in closer, forcing him to step back a little, away from the urinal and back against the adjoining wall, his little pecker still sticking out, unmistakably hard now. Still, he was putting up a pretense of a fight and so I pursued, pinning him against the wall. My hands landed either side of him creating a barrier with my big arms and he eyes them with a mixture of fear and fascination. Boys like this are always in awe of the shape and substance of a real man. What they have isn't the same, and they know it. Even those faggots that manage to squeeze in some work outs between checking out guys' crotches at the gym and get a decent physique know that it's never gonna be the same as a real man. Still, it doesn't hurt that I kept the build I earned playing rugby when I was younger, which with the body hair and beard attracted these daddy issue beta bitches like flies to shit.
"I said, I don't think I quite got my dick clean when I was wiping it on your trousers, dipshit. So, why don't you be a good little boy, get down in your knees and have a little look for me." The kid continued to avoid looking directly at me, but I could tell that he was taking all of me in as discreetly as he could, and I could see that little dick of his still poking out hard and glistening. I knew that he'd be able to smell my cock own by now. I'd been saving up my dick stink for four days, knowing that I'd be out faggot hunting tonight. If you want a nice boy then wash your dick, but getting your new bitch boy to tongue clean your cheesy cock teaches them a useful lesson in humility. A dick sucker is one thing, but a dick cleaner is fucking low, and I love making these cunts feel as low as possible, just like this one.
"Er...I..." He finally managed to stammer out. It was almost cute, but now was the time to push it.
"I said GET DOWN!" My voice echoed off the toilet walls, emphasizing to the boy how alone he was. He didn't take any more prompting and he began clumsily climbing down to his knees in the small space I'd left for him between me and the wall. Finally he was facing my dick, which had risen to it's full length and was now an inch from poking the kid in the nose. As I expected the sight and smell of my cock, as well as the commanding presence of its owner worked their magic and the boy, now no longer feeling in as much immediate danger, having complied, was beginning to realize the lust he felt.
Lust is the faggot's primary motivation. If the inside of a faggot's head was anything like the movie Inside Out then Joy would be giving Anger blowjobs all day under that control desk thing. Put a dick in front of a faggot's face and it doesn't matter how old he is or whether or not he's found out the truth about himself yet, they all turn into the same open mouthed, drooling piece of prospective fuck meat. I know that when that look descends fog like across their face then any idea of saying no, of refusing what to come is gone. It's like hypnosis, if you believe that stuff, or something like it. It's as if they're all born with the same trigger, and that trigger just got plucked hard in the kid now kneeling on the dirty, piss wet floor of the toilets. I waved my cock in front of him and his eyes followed.
"Well," I said, looking down at him. He seemed to remember me again and looked up, and I saw all resistance gone, only desire now barely contained. "You gonna make sure the job is done then, faggot."
He flinched when I called them that. They all do, some from surprise or offence, some from arousal, some from both, but they never say anything. He looked up at me, reading my eyes, knowing what I wanted, and like a good little fuck puppet that cute little mouth of his opened up, all red and wet like a bitten strawberry, and his tongue emerged, tentatively at first, and found the head of my dick. I could tell this faggot was a newbie at cock sucking, but as proud as I'm sure his father would no doubt now be at such a milestone for his son I am not so patient and forced my dick between those lips, the thick head, now unsheathed, pushing into his warm, wet mouth. To his credit he responded quickly, opening his jaw and shaping his lips to take it better. I looked down as he struggled with his new responsibility.
"Good girl." I said. Yeah I know it's cheesy, and I don't just mean the dick, but fag boys like this turn to butter if you talk to them like they're some bitch you're fucking. I don't know if it's some part of their fucked up daddy issues but it's like calling them a girl, or a bitch, or a ho gives them permission to be the cum hole they so desperately want to be. Whatever works, I guess, and it really does work cos pretty boy here starts going to town cleaning my dick head and pretty soon it's turning into sloppy head as my hand finds his hair and pulls.
Putting a faggot though some discomfort is a great way to fuck their minds as you fuck their skull, keeping them in pain as you get your rocks off reminds them in a very real way that if hurting them is what it takes to get you off then that's what it'll be for them for a while. Not to mention the motivating power of a little pain. With that thought I give the kid a mild, but still more than noticeable slap to the face, focusing his attention as I positioned him right against the wall, my legs straddling him giving him nowhere to go, as if he'd move anyway. My dick was now only about half in the kid's face, not nearly good enough yet, and I told him so.
"Open up that fuck hole of yours nice and wide, boy. You're taking the whole thing even if you you throw up all over that nice shirt." I laughed, seeing that his shirt already had a few spatters of drool from the kid's lips to add to my piss still drying. The boy did what he could, but he was pretty stretched already, and so leaning my weight forward I pushing in deeper, watching tears well in his eyes as my fat dick filled his mouth and throat like it had filled his mind since I'd first baited him with it. Man, he looked so cute all red eyed and scared, but clearly more turned on than he'd ever been. Yeah, he was beginning to feel what it's like to do what he was meant to do. My dick throbbed knowing that in years to come, when this bitch is just another washed up old faggot paying rough trade for dick, he'll remember me as the man that started it all, that changed his life.
And change it was exactly what I was gonna do, but not yet. Now that I had the faggot hooked it was time to real him in properly, and so just as he was entering that submissive, cock hungry state of mind I stepped away, pulling my meat from his hungry mouth. I looked down at him, he was now looking confused and a little hurt at my withdrawal, at my having taken away this joy he was discovering inside if him. You see, if I continued right now, and used this boy like I know he needs it, then in the morning when delusions, like dreams, are stronger, then he'll still be able to tell himself that I had coerced him, and to use that lie as a fortress against the shame he needn't feel. When he submitted to me it there would be no doubt that he had knelt willingly, eagerly.
"If you want more then look for me at closing. I might be around." And with that I left the kid kneeling where I'd put him.
Hey, that's the end of part one. Feel free to shoot me any comments of criticism or ideas for part two to devonguy12345@gmail.com
Happy fapping.