Disclaimer:
This is a purely fictional story, but please do let me know if it does turn out to be non-fiction ;-P.
i love to hear from all of you.
xoxo - jasper proseinourdreams@gmail.com proseinourdreams.wordpress.com
p.s. don't forget to donate to nifty! http://donate.nifty.org/donate.html
< BREAKING BAKER MAYFIELD > < entry two >
Baker, after that first breakdown on the side of the road, forced himself to drive away and lock it all away in a locked box wedged deep inside his head. It meant nothing. It was just a blow job. Nothing more.
The ensuing summer months in Texas flew by in a dull blur. Baker's will power had only lasted two weeks at home before his feeble facade cracked. He completely caved. He was on edge and losing his mind. One the fifteenth day, Baker found himself, hours away from his family, in the middle of the night, on his knees, stripped naked on his own accord save his new Nike sliders and Sooners cap drawn backwards, slobbering and sucking a stranger's cock through a glory hole inside a steamy darkroom of yet another sex shop. He couldn't help himself. He was crazed beyond all rational senses. He didn't even try to get his own cock sucked as his new obsession and addiction replaced his old fetish so completely and thoroughly.
The thrill Baker felt was unexplainable and incomprehensible that night. The humiliating and demeaning epithets he heard and endured compelled him to lick faster, suck harder, swallow deeper. Old, experienced perverts in that backroom spotted the fresh meat from a mile away. All eyes lurking in the dark corners were on Baker as he nervously descended into the basement dungeon and traversed the unfamiliar and dark corridors, hearing the sounds of his bare feet flopping in sliders, the vague waft of aftershave and soap lingering in the air mixing with the raunchy smell of dirty cum and sweat and ass and feet and more cum.
Men flocked around Baker's cubicle. They spied on him strip naked and watched him voraciously slobber and lick and suck on the first cock that popped through a glory hole. Baker was wild with abandon, buoyed by his distance from school and his family. He sucked that first cock - short and skinny and nothing like that big black cock that ruined his everything - like he was on a mission to win the Super Bowl. Without missing a beat, spotting a bigger cock fall out of empty glory hole on adjoining walls, Baker kept sucking that pathetic excuse of a cock in his mouth and reached out to his right and began stroking the second cock with fervor. Instantly, another cock popped through on his left, and Baker, on a mission, grabbed it with his left hand and began pumping the two cocks while feverishly working to get that cock to explode in his mouth.
His ears were open now. He heard all the men on other sides of his tiny cubicle jerking off, sucking each other, groaning, moaning, grunting. Baker didn't care; he was high from being in that dungeon. He was driven by pure lust and horny desire as he knelt there, his own beer-can cock bouncing in the air between his thick, muscular thighs as he swallowed the second load of his life, albeit pitiful dribbles compared to his first.
More cock. More stroking. More sucking. Another load. More nasty name calling. Degrading slurs. Bigger cocks. Bigger loads. Cock erupting in his mouth. Cock spurting in his right hand. Cock drenching his left hand and arm. One after another. Then two at once. A bigger cock. A forceful face fucking. Men shouting at him, taunting him, verbally tormenting him, deriding, jeering, applauding, commending, ridiculing, mocking, praising.
...
Baker sat in his car in the lot outside the shop. He didn't know how long he'd spent on his knees that night. He didn't have to flee like last time because everyone had already left. The sun had started to rise when he emerged alone from that dungeon. His jaws and arms and hands were sore. His knees were bruised, and his tank top, which he used again to wipe up all the cum on himself, was so completely drenched Baker didn't even bother putting it back on. He could feel creamy cum between his toes and on his sliders as he emerged shirtless and wearing just basketball shorts. He didn't care what the old man behind the counter thought of him as he marched past all sticky and sweaty, though still with his OU cap drawn low over his eyes.
As soon as he got in the car, Baker broke down again in tears. Smelling the cum on himself, on that drenched tank top, thinking about every cock he sucked, stroked; every load he swallowed that night, the athlete suddenly swung open the door and threw up.
Feeling completely wasted, completely spent, completely used, Baker locked his doors and screamed. He struck the steering wheel over and over, slapping himself across the face, cursing at himself, berating himself, bawling and repeating every nasty name he was called that night, repeating every putrid and disgusting name they'd barked at him.
"FAGGOT!"
"OPEN UP!"
"SWALLOW!"
"NASTY BOY!"
"PIECE OF SHIT!"
"MORE!"
"PUSSY!"
"SLUT!"
"COCK SUCKER! COCKSUCKER! COCKSUCKER!"
Shoving his cum-soaked tank top in his face, Baker pulled out his cock and began jerking it for the first time that night and screamed into the cummy tank. Over and over, smelling the cum of all those men, tugging on his cock and balls so hard they hurt and bruised, until finally he shot the biggest load of his young life all over himself and the steering wheel. He kept stroking, now sobbing breathlessly until he felt nauseous and had to throw up again.
To be continued...
More on... proseinourdreams.wordpress.com proseinourdreams@gmail.com