Here's a story about a faggot I hooked up with on Grindr. Please donate to nifty.org, it's a great site.
First, a little about me. I'm the archetypal privileged white guy, 6'2", decent hairy body, square jaw, blue eyes, dirty blond hair that grew wavy when it was long. At 32 I'm a suited professional so I keep it short and well cut and in winter I grow a matching beard. I'm also self aware enough to know the effect I can have on those around me. Women and men of all ages and type will automatically treat me with respect and many with adoration and I admit I enjoy the feeling and the opportunity that this brings to me.
My looks have allowed me my pick of sexual partners. That sounds boastful, but it's a simple fact that I am a lot of people's sexual fantasy; a tall, masculine guy with the appropriate amount of self confidence and who is happy to take what he wants from those who are desperate to give it. It gives me an awesome sense of power to know that I can approach almost anyone, male or female, ask them if they wanna fuck and, even if they say no (and not many do), it will still be the highlight of their week. Even straight dudes grin like school girls and faggots, well, let's just say it's fun watching them turn into a puddle in front of me.
In fact faggots have been some of my most fun encounters, especially in my twenties when I would occasionally hit a gay bar to get bought drinks all night and have a string of guys flirt with me. It's a real ego boost. I guess I'd consider myself bi, since more than once I've let a fag hang on my dick and I gotta say I liked it. In those fag bars there's no sense of decency, so the dudes would just get down and ask to blow me right there. Fuck, it got me a special kind of hard seeing those queers look up all needy, and after letting them beg in front of everyone I'd let them get my dick out and start making out with it. I'm eight inches, fat, uncut and my foreskin looks like a pair of lips when I'm beginning to bone up, so I'd get them to kiss it awake.
It certainly awoke something in me and I found I'd get more demanding as they'd get more compliant, especially if there was an audience. The idea of another man kneeling for me and, even for just a few minutes, was mine to use, and that everyone there could see and knew it, that blew my mind and my dick. I developed a few regular cocksuckers this way, fags who would just show up and blow me whenever and wherever. It was a great time in my life.
My job took me to a new city and I lost my previous cocksuckers in the move, which brought me onto Grindr. Now, I've usually avoided that app, finding it completely unnecessary. I want to find the nearest willing hole? I don't have to look far usually, but I was horny late one night and couldn't be bothered with a bar so I downloaded it.
I looked through the profile pictures and decided to go for a standard neck down body shot for mine, wearing a pair of grey gym shorts, nothing else. I admit I looked good. In the bio I put "bi man, top, dom. you should be clean and very eager to please." Simple and straightforward, I thought.
I got a bunch of messages that I just ignored. I can afford to be picky. Then, about fifteen minutes in a message catches my eye.
-Hello Sir. Please allow me to say that I would be honoured to kneel and serve you. I have experience as a cocksucker, fuckhole, urinal, footlicker and domestic servant.
The last part made me chuckle. I'd heard about naked cleaners and things like that but I had always found it a bit comical. Looking around at my place and seeing the detrius of a week without any real house work the idea seemed less ridiculous. He'd called me Sir, too. I guess I'm old fashioned but that affirmation of status from a sub does makes my dick twinge. I clicked his profile.
Mike was the name he'd put. It's irrelevant whether it was his real name or not, and I never bothered to find out. He was mid thirties, dark hair and eyes and was not unattractive in an obviously beta kind of way. He had that hurt look in his eyes that all true faggots have. I decided to message back
-what makes you think I need any of that from you, faggot? What makes you think I need a pathetic little cocksucker like you sniffing around me like a fucking dog? Now beg for forgiveness and tell me what a fucking waste of skin you are.
Yes, it was cruel, but something about that puppy dog waiting to be punched look on his face made me want to test this fag a little. The response prompt.
-please Sir forgive this pathetic faggot loser for offering it's meagre service to such a superior man as you. It is less than the dirt under your shoe Sir.
Now this was something new. I'd had fags call me Sir, but seeing this guy talk about himself like that felt good. I was intrigued enough to meet, so I sent the following message back.
-meet at the corner of High Street and Baxter Street, next to the 7/11. Fifteen minutes faggot.
I knew he'd know the place as his profile had him about a mile away. Of course I didn't intend to hurry there myself, but I wanted him to. The thought of making him wait, of teasing him and fucking with his mind made my dick get fatter in my shorts. The corner I'd described was visible from my apartment so I'd wait until he got there and watch for a while, maybe mess with him a little.
I decided to crack a beer and sit by the open window enjoying the night air. After about ten minutes I saw the fag come into the halo of light outside the convenience store. He was wearing a dark hooded sweatshirt, blue jeans, white sneakers. He was nervously glancing between each street and his phone screen and seemed to shake a little despite the relatively warm night.
My phone pinged, a message from the fag. I let him hang for five minutes before replying.
-pull your pants down and wait for me faggot. Now.
Hitting send I grinned. This would test him. If he ran now I'd have lost nothing but a disobedient fag. If he complies then that shows enough promise to let him come up. I looked down as he got the message. He seemed to read it four or five times, then looked around even more furtively. Then, to my surprise, he hooked his thumbs into his waistband and pulled down, bringing his pants and underwear together, exposing his obviously excited pecker. It literally sprang out. I was impressed, but not by his below average ding-dong. I had only specified his pants, but he took the spirit of the task and ran with it. However, not wanting to have him arrested just yet I decided to cut the fun short and go get him.
As I left my building and crossed the street I saw the fag stood by the wall trying to look as inconspicuous as you can when your dick is out in public. A small group of girls had obviously just passed him and were still chatting animatedly.
I stepped closer and he saw me, shirtless in my shorts and sneakers. Now, I've seen the look a dog has on his when he sees his master. It's a very distinct look of unfettered excitement and gratitude that you rarely see in humans. I see it more than most, but the look on that faggot's dumb face when he saw me was full Disney. Scratch that, it was Looney Tunes, with his eyes popping out and his heart bouncing out of his chest.
I appraised this sight a moment as he caught his breath. Meeting his eye with a steady, penetrating look I said, "So, I guess you're the faggot. Pull up your pants and follow me." With that I turned and headed back to the apartment building. After a few seconds of panicked fumbling I heard his irregular footsteps behind me as he must have decided to attempt both tasks at once. This faggot was going to be fun.
I entered the lobby to my building and heard the fag catch the door behind me. The place had a couple of cameras but no security guard and was quiet this time of night. I stopped before the elevator and turned to him. He stumbled to a stop still panting with excitement.
"From the moment we get in until the moment I kick your sorry faggot ass out you obey every fucking order I give you, and I mean anything. Now is the time to back out, fagboi. Do you understand?"
"Yes Sir. I understand Sir." He replied, wanting to look me in the eye but scared to at the same time. I see that look a lot and it's always hot.
"Then show your obedience by getting down and kissing my sneaker. Show me what a weak, desperate little pig you are." I said this right into his ear and I knew he'd be able to feel my hot breath. He trembled again before dropping down onto all fours and eagerly kissing my right sneaker. He has giving it lots of soft peck so I said "make out with it, bitch. I wanna see you use that tongue".
Quickly he switched up a gear, giving big, open mouthed kisses with plenty of tongue to the ends of my dirty shoes. He seemed to have forgotten where he was and was focused on treating my sneaker like it was the love of his fucking life. Sad thing is it probably was the love of his life up to that point, but only because he hadn't gotten to know the rest of me yet. That would soon change.
I kicked the fag in the face, not hard enough to hurt but enough to snap him out of his needy little fag trance or whatever it was. He looked up, his dark eyes refocusing on my face again and I smiled down at him. He gave me a wide, dopey grin back. I told him to get up and we took the lift to my floor.
I could practically feel the faggot's eyes on my ass and back as we made our way to my place. Or maybe it was my feet he was checking out, I've know some faggots go nuts for the feet of a guy like me. Hell, one or two preferred them to my dick. It doesn't really matter what the faggot likes, but it's sometimes useful to know. I'll have to find out what his thing is, what he goes weak for. Maybe it's ass, maybe it's dick, maybe it's feet, maybe it's something else but I'll definitely have fun finding out.
We got to my apartment door. "Strip, now. You're to be naked when you're here. Got it, pussy?"
"Yes Sir," he said before pulling his sweatshirt and t-shirt off. As he finished stripping I unlocked the door and walked in.
"Throw your clothes inside and come in on all fours. Close the door behind you." And with that I went into the living room.
I took my seat on the coach and put my feet up on the coffee table. I flicked the TV on and turned it to some dumb action movie that was just starting. I heard the front door close then a moment or two of shuffling later the faggot appeared on all four in the entry to the room.
"Get me a beer from the fridge, faggot," I said, gesturing to the adjoining kitchen. "Then get to work on the soles of my sneakers. Looks like they got dirty going out to get your faggot ass."
"Yes Sir." He said, trying to sound clear and eager, and I had no doubt that he was eager, but his nerves showed like an uptuned note in his voice. Remaining on all fours he skirted the coffee table and entered the kitchen. I heard the first the fridge and then two cupboards open and close. The fag came crawling back with a glass and, after a return trip so hurried he almost skidded on the floor, an opened beer. He poured the beer and knelt with it presented to me in one hand. I took it and the faggot said "Thank you, Sir." Before crawling to where my big feet lay on the table and without hesitation began licking the dirty sole of my sneakers clean. I felt that power buzz come back, of making another man degrade himself for me and my dick started tenting my shorts. I wanted to push this further. I got out my phone and started the video camera.
Pointing it at where the faggot was diligently tongue cleaning my shoes I hit record and said. "Tell me what you are, faggot. We both know you know it. Say it for me boy."
He glanced up and saw the phone obviously recording. He hesitated a moment so I gave him a kick to remind him who's in charge.
"I'm a pathetic, dumb, shoe licking faggot loser Sir." He said. He almost looked sad about it but a flush of excitement came with it too.
"And what are you here to do, faggot?" I said, tapping him on the head with the foot he wasn't making out with.
"I'm here to serve Master and do whatever he orders Sir." He said. I could tell that saying it out loud, especially in front of a camera, made him feel vulnerable. That all most sluts want, male or female. They want you to spread their legs, either literally or figuratively, make them feel vulnerable and have them at your command. I was spreading this fag's legs already. I could see it in his eyes. He was open for whatever I gave.
I put the phone to one side for now. Seeing that little beta sucking the dirt off the soles of my shoes had got my dick fully hard. I wanted to feel that throat of his massaging my cock head so bad, but I was gonna make him work for it.
I pulled my feet away from him and sat forward, placing them in the ground and my elbows on my knees. I gave him that alpha look again, the one they all get wet for, and sure enough he starts practically drooling. "Come sniff your master's crotch, faggot."
I couldn't help but laugh out loud at how eagerly he scurried forward. Within two seconds he was between my legs with his grateful bitch face mashed into my crotch, sucking the air in through his nose.
"Do you like that, faggot? Do like how a real man smells? Addictive isn't it?" I said, and he replied with a muffled "get master, I love it master", that warmed my balls.
"Good faggot. That's the smell of the man that owns your sorry faggot ass. Remember it." He nodded his head eagerly as he replied "Yes master", and took a long, deep huff of my ball sweat.
I leant back in the seat and drank in the moment myself. My dick was hard and leaking in my boxers, throwing a huge bulge in my shorts, party blocking the view of the faggot's head as he got to know his place. The feeling of his pressing face and hot breath through the fabric of my clothes felt so good, but even better was the knowledge that I was driving this little faggot crazy, that I was putting him in a special kind of submissive place that only an alpha dude like me can. He's probably been searching for something like this his whole life, the poor dope.
Not wanting to wait any longer I gave him a sharp tap on the head and said "get it out and make out with it like a good girl. I wanna see how much you love it. You need to show you're a good slut before I'll let you suck it."
"Yes master, thank you master." He replied before quickly, yet carefully, pulling down the waistband of my shorts and boxers. He had a little trouble with the latter as they were hooked on my dick, but with careful fingers he extracted it. He was met eyes to eye with my thick, wet, uncut dick. It was bouncing lightly in anticipation. He instinctively took a long sniff, his nose just an inch from my dick head. I like a pig who uses his nose. Then, reverentially, he leant in and began kissing the end, his lips sucking at my foreskin a few times, drinking in my precum, before his tongue loped out to catch a trickle that had just run along the sensitive underside. His hot, wet lips and tongue felt electric on my cock and I shuddered. I must have squirted more precum because I felt him suckle at the end a little harder and he hummed contentedly, gratefully. This was enough for me and my hands found his head, my fingers spread like the talons of a hawk as I pulled him onto my dick. It was sudden and I had hoped to catch him off guard, to make him choke and splutter but his face then his throat opened and took me. I could see it was a struggle, his eyes began to water and I felt his throat try to spasm around my dick as I pressed his nose into my pubes, but he held it for five, then ten seconds before beginning to choke and hitting his palms against my hard thighs. After three more seconds I let him off and he pulled back until my dick head was on his lips. My dick was slick with his spit and throat slime and obscene strands of it hung from his lips and nose and dribbled from his chin. He was breathing hard, sending snot bubbles out of his left nostril. This was more like it. This fag was now beginning to look the part as well as act it. I pushed him back onto my dick, though not as hard this time, and I let him go to work and show me his skills as a cocksucker.
The bitch wasn't half bad. He could take it deep, but he also didn't neglect the niceties like tickling the head with his tongue or lapping at my balls and taint. A blow job is a great way to interview a faggot, you can tell whether they are really there to please you or themselves. This fag definitely seemed like he was here to please me as he took to sucking my dick if not like a pro then like a very enthusiastic and capable amateur.
I began to feel the fuck fog descend, when my thoughts and objectives become fucking a hole and cumming into it, so I took control of the blowjob, grabbing onto the fags hair and hammering into his throat. The wet, gulping sound his throat made as my dick popped in and out and his body beginning to writhe under the assault drove my orgasm further and I hit the home stretch, the point of no return as my balls began to churn. The faggot could be choking to death and I wouldn't have been able to stop as the first pulse of cum left my body and started coating the faggot's throat. I visualised it mixing with the mess I'd made in there as more followed and I spent myself inside him. It's strange how we become philosophical at moments like that, but I thought of an animal marking it's territory, my grunts, my stench, my seed, surrounding him and entering him. A conquest.
Sometimes the universe provides happy accidents for us, and it was at that moment that I realised I needed a piss. I grinned and gave the universe a wink back and said. "Stay there faggot, you're not done yet."
Leaning back still I relaxed my bladder and let my piss start squirting into the cunt's mouth. His eyes widened but he didn't pull away, swallowing instead with only a slight unconscious grimace. I let more go, and then more before he was chugging it down and I was just letting it go. The bitch was definitely an enthusiastic amateur at this too as he managed not to spill any and even licked my dick clean. Didn't stop me wiping it in his hair but I appreciated the initiative.
"Ok faggot," I said, giving the dumb fuck a swipe across the face with my hand, just because I can, "my kitchen needs cleaning. Bring me another beer then get to it, ok dumbass?"
"Yes master, right away master", he replied before he's crawled off to the kitchen, his little pecker trailing slime as he went. He'd be cleaning that up later too, but he had all night.