Headbangers Ball

Headbangers Ball - Chapter 6

If you can, make a donation to keep Nifty online. Go to https://donate.nifty.org/.

So this is the sixth installment of a true story about how I developed a unique fetish. It is not for everyone, but if you discover that you are turned on or even curious, feel free to reach out to me (my email is posted at the top). I'm actually hoping to talk to, and even meet, others who are into this, especially if you are the active type who wants to inflict this fetish on me.

I wrote 5 chapters on how this all started with my buddy when I was 16 years old. I hope I did a good job laying the foundation and exploring the science that explains why getting my head banged against a wall or other hard surface while giving another guy oral sex has turned into such a strong addiction for me and such an important and necessary part of my not only my sex life, but my life as a whole. I know this is a strange fetish and I know I am sick. But I've accepted that and I am okay with both of these facts. Over the last 8 years this addiction has progressed and I'm at the point now where I do indeed acknowledge it is an addiction, and I do indeed know for a fact that head banging is not the healthiest thing to do. I know the risks. I've had some injuries. And like all addicts, I admit I have overdosed a few times, gotten so into this that I have done too much of it in a single day or even over a string of days, and there have been some adverse effects and possible damage that cannot be reversed. But like any other addict in the grips of a powerful addiction, I simply don't care about the risks or the "what ifs" and "maybes" that could happen if I continue doing what I'm doing. Yes I've had multiple concussions. In the beginning I sought medical treatment a few times, and not that I am particularly embarrassed about how I got the concussion, I just don't need some person I don't know lecturing me about how unsafe my sexual activities are. So when I did seek medical advice or treatment, I always said I got injured playing contact sports, always being clear these were not school sanctioned activities. If you say you got hurt during school sanctioned sports, it opens up a whole bunch of questions and there are some mandated reporting requirements about certain types of injuries that occur on school property or at school sanctioned events. So I was always sure to say it was just friends and guys in the neighborhood playing football and shit like that. One time when I had a concussion I went to the Urgent Care department at my local hospital and I made up a story that me and my buddies were playing baseball and I got hit in the back of the head with a bat by accident. That was my explanation for the bump on the back of my head that was actually caused by getting repeatedly head banged against a sturdy wooden dresser during a very rough face fuck session. I'm not embarrassed by that at all. I just didn't want to open up all those questions and preachy lessons that medical professions are obligated to say. It's easier to blame it on amateur sports and carelessness and just get lectured about wearing batting helmets and not getting too close when one of my buddies is batting. Accidents happen, so the advice is usually limited to being more careful. If I told the truth about how I got the concussion I would probably still be in the exam room getting lectured and judged. Anyway, seeking medical attention for concussions and other injuries that result from my addiction to head banging face fucks is a waste of time. The exam is always the same: they check my vision, my hearing, and they ask questions to test if I am oriented to day and time and what season of year it is and where I am. And they ask questions that test my short term recall memory. I've had at least three CT scans and there was never any signs of detectable bleeding. Those are the basic things they look for. And the treatment is always the same: go home, rest for 2 to 3 days, make sure I am not alone for the next 24 hours, blah blah blah. Call or come back if my symptoms get worse or don't go away within 3 days. The symptoms I had the times I did seek medical attention were usually dizziness and long lasting headaches, sometimes blurred or double vision, and I would have sensitivity to bright lights and loud noise. Basically I felt like I had a bad hangover that wasn't going away. Eventually I stopped seeking medical treatment because by now I already know the signs and symptoms of a concussion, and I know the typical self-care I need to do to deal with the symptoms. Concussions are not as serious as everyone thinks. And the ones I get from being head banged are gradually built up. It's an extended period of getting my skull knocked against a wall or other hard surface, which is way different that experiencing one huge jarring impact as an athlete or a boxer or as someone involved in a car crash. The most serious concussions usually occur with whiplash and with high intensity impacts, such as a fall. It is my theory, based on experience, that the brain can tolerate a series of lower intensity impacts and, I believe, adjust to it over time if this is something that happens often. The human body (and I imagine animals and most living things) are very complex, amazing, adaptable inventions. I've had some jobs that involved a lot of physical labor and I'd develop callouses on my hands. That's the body's way of protecting itself, as the skin is very thin and when it is subjected to repeated prolonged periods of friction, the brain just somehow programs the skin to grow thicker and harder in these areas. If you spend a lot of time working outdoors, you develop a tan or a darker complexion, and this is another way the body changes and adapts to protect itself. I believe years of head banging face fucks has caused my brain to anticipate this is something that is just going to keep happening and I believe I have adapted to it and there are things happening in my brain and skull that are natural protective responses. Over the years it feels like the back of my skull has become a little thicker and harder. It would make sense under my theory that just like callouses, the brain has programmed the skull bone to become thicker and programmed the body to divert more calcium and whatever it takes to strengthen that particular area. Maybe I can donate my body to science after I die and they can measure my skull to see if it is thicker than usual back there where my head has been impacted millions and millions of times. Maybe there's a pathologist reading my stories (or who will discover them at some point) and would be interested in researching whether or not my theory is true. But based on what I know about evolution, and based on lived experiences and things we all have in common (like developing callouses), my theory certainly makes a lot of sense. Anyway, I stopped worrying about concussions and injuries a long time ago. My addiction for getting head banged is to the point where none of that is even a factor anymore. There is no doctor or psychiatrist or anyone else who is going to convince me to stop. I don't want to stop. In fact, I want to keep doing this as long as I can and keep escalating as much as I need to keep getting these awesome feelings in my brain that I crave and need. I have mentioned it a few times, however, that I do want to write all this down while I still can. Perhaps there is some foreshadowing of the future, or a little doubt and concern left inside me that is telling me that someday, like all addicts, I may take things too far. Most addicts who overdose do not intend to do so. Those who die from an overdose most certainly didn't intend to. And I won't lie and say the thought of some type of irreversible brain damage is not a possibility in my case. It certainly is something I have thought a lot about and have calculated the risks versus the rewards. And right now in my life, the rewards I get from getting head banged far outweigh any risks of injury or even permanent brain damage. I accept that could happen and even embrace it as a possibility, even going so far as to prepare for that in case it does happen. I know a guy who suffered brain damage in a motor cycle accident because he didn't wear a helmet. He walks with a limp, slurs his words, but he is able to work part-time at Walmart. I've talked to him and he has no regrets. He also gets a decent disability check and all his needs are met. It's not such a bad life. I also knew a local guy who owned a business and he fell off a roof and ended up with brain damage. Sure he had to stop working, his son took over the business, but he still seems to be a happy guy. If that happens to me, I like to think that I'd still be happy and have no regrets about the intentional choices I made or any of the random shit that could happen to me. I could get hit by a bus tomorrow. Who knows, who cares.

On a side note, while we are on this subject, I will make another confession. I have talked to guys who are really into head banging a cocksucker like me and there is always a discussion about limits. The best sessions I have are totally without any limits at all. Sometimes a guy will say, "well I don't want to give you brain damage." And I get that and I respect that. I'm not out there seeking that or hoping it happens. I just know the possibility exists and there is that risk. But other guys I have talked to are actually turned on by that risk and that possibility. And I say if it excites them and makes them have a more intense orgasm thinking about these risks and possibilities, then I'm all for it. There are a couple guys I meet with for sessions who like to talk about it at least. It certainly makes them more aggressive face fuckers and head bangers when they get turned on thinking about it. And I am not embarrassed to talk about it or say the things that get them hard and amped up for a good long head banging face fuck. I've even "begged" guys to try to turn me into a drooling cock sucking retard by causing brain damage. If that gets me what I need, and especially if it helps them get a stronger, more pleasurable orgasm hearing that and thinking about it while they nail my skull to a wall, then I'm happy to go along with it. If one of these guys should actually succeed in turning me into a cock sucking retard because of over doing it with the head banging, what I said earlier still stands. I'm okay with that and I accept that risk and possibility without any concerns, and hopefully without any regrets should it actually happen. You might be thinking, "wow that's a little too extreme!" But is it? I feel the same way about other risky sexual activities. I don't just do oral you know, although that is the focus of this true account I am sharing. I take cock up the ass. And I only do bareback fucking. I bottom only, never top. And there are all sorts of risks about diseases. HIV is still a possibility, although full blown AIDS seems to be a thing of the past. And I know a lot of you guys reading this prefer bareback. I hardly meet a top these days who actually wants to wear a condom. I mean they will if the bottom insists upon it, but if the bottom doesn't care either way, the top will always choose bareback. And sure, everyone plays the "DDF" game, and some will agree to bareback fucking by adding "as long as you're clean." And it's like an honor system, even though the vast majority of guys out there have no idea if they have an STI or if they are HIV positive. That's why they get spread so easily. I'm only talking about this now because I wanted to clear the air about my sex life and explain that I don't just do oral because I'm also a cock whore and take it up the ass, and always bareback. If the top doesn't cum up my ass or in my mouth/down my throat, then it aint sex. A lot of you agree with this I'm sure. All sex comes with risk and you need to weight the risks against the pleasure. Hell I've even been fucked by HIV positive guys who were actually honest and upfront about it. Now I don't let just any guy fuck me. He has to be hot to me (and I have a wide range in tastes, and what I consider "hot" spans across races, age groups, body types and cock sizes), and he has to be a top (I don't do anything mutual and I refuse to hook up with someone who wants to flip fuck: I only bottom, every time, all the time), and he has to be aggressive and get off on giving rough sex (I cannot do vanilla sex: I get nothing out of it and it's boring). So yeah, the guys who use me have to be hot aggressive tops. The rest of his stats, including location, really don't matter to me. And let me back up to that whole "I've even been fucked by HIV positive guys." I am not, I repeat NOT a bug chaser. I am not out there purposefully trying to catch STIs and HIV and that is not my fetish. I understand and appreciate the guys who are into that and who do classify themselves as bug chasers. One could argue that is a different kind of addiction, or at the very least an obsession. For me, whether a guy has an STI or is HIV positive is not a factor. If I meet a hot aggressive top and prior to him putting his dick in one on my holes he tells me he has chlamydia or gonorrhea or HSV or HIV, I'm still goanna let him fuck me bareback. As long as he is a hot aggressive top, the risks are outweighed by the benefits. And yes it has happened. And yes I've had to get some meds for gonorrhea once (swabs tested positive for my throat and ass after sex with a hot guy who didn't tell me he had gonorrhea). The sex was great though and worth it. I've even had hot aggressive tops tell me they are HIV positive but "undetectable" and on PrEP, so that's pretty much the same as negative as it is almost impossible to pass it on when you are undetectable. And there are very few hot aggressive tops out there who are positive and not on medication. Some even promote themselves as toxic tops, some are into the whole conversion thing and looking for bug chasers. I always make it clear I am not a chaser and it doesn't matter to me either way if they are positive, on meds, or not on meds. As long as a guy is a hot aggressive top (in my terms), I will want him to fuck me and I make it clear I don't allow condoms or pull outs. Every time, no matter who the guy is, they are always okay with bareback and prefer not having to wear a condom, even if they know they have HIV or an STI. So everyone is happy. I always say if I'm gonna get fucked by a guy who wears a condom and wont cum inside me, I might as well stay home and sit on a carrot that's inside a Ziploc bag and call it a night. Neither one is sex in my book.

So yeah, in almost all sexual situations, the risks are outweighed by the benefits. And I know having multiple concussions is risky, and I know there is a real possibility of brain damage if this goes too far. I won't stop. I can't stop. I know what I need and I need my skull banged hard and often.

So as I said at the end of the last chapter, I want to wrap up my experience with my school buddy and start talking about other guys I met who are into head banging. I already described a session where we did 2 head banging face fuck sessions out in the garage within about a 3 hour period. I also described how I felt during and after that experience, and while I didn't know it at the time, I have learned to recognize that pounding headache that lasts for hours, the dizziness, blurred vision, and episodes of nausea are symptoms of a concussion. And I think that afternoon I had my first concussion, and on the scale of things I'd classify it as a mild concussion. Mild and even moderate concussions do not require medical treatment and the symptoms clear up on their own in a matter of minutes or hours which is why I stopped going to get checked out. In later years I have had concussions that might be classified as "severe" based on the symptoms I had, which included brief periods of unconsciousness. These types of concussions only happen when I meet up with a face fucking head banger who wants to take things that far. Of course when I find guys like this I absolutely let them go as extreme as they need to. Severe concussions have a lot more risks and they take longer to recover from, but I still say the risks are outweighed by the benefits of these extreme sessions. Anyway, the buddy I've been writing about only gave me mild concussions, and that day we had that first double head banging session was the first one he gave me in my opinion. He was leaving the next day on a family vacation for 2 weeks, so I had plenty of time to recover. If he wouldn't have been leaving and we met up the next day, I wonder if he could have turned that fist mild concussion into a moderate or even severe one. I'd have to wait quite a while before I experienced them at that level though.

Anyway, those two weeks with no head banging was rough. After 4 days I grew so desperate I tried banging my own head in the garage to try and get the high I needed, but it didn't work. I already wrote about how I need all the elements to be there, including another guy's hard cock in my mouth to make this work. I was definitely showing signs of withdrawal. I kept myself busy by doing yardwork, going on long bike rides, and meeting some of the older guys in the neighborhood who enjoyed receiving blow jobs. I was at least getting my quota of cum. I also started jerking off a lot while visualizing and reliving past experiences in the garage. It never really dawned on me to ask if and of the guys I sucked off would be interested in banging my head. Most of these guys were the type who like to get naked or maybe just take off their pants and sit on a couch with their legs spread wide while I gave them head until they'd cum in my mouth. None of them were the aggressive types. But I made it through even though my anxiety was high and I was depressed. My mom even thought I was sick. But I managed to keep it together for those two weeks and I couldn't wait for my buddy to get home. When that Saturday he was supposed to be back came around, I took several bike rides through the neighborhood and past his house looking to see if they were back yet. I was needing it bad. They eventually did get back but it was around 8 PM by then. I'm sure my buddy saw me biking by a few times because they were carrying stuff from the car into the house. I went home and emailed him and then waited. You might remember from earlier chapters that me and my buddy didn't talk a lot about what we did together. He wasn't really a verbal kind of guy. Sure he would say things when he was close to cumming, and there were a few conversations we had about the head banging stuff, but he was really pretty shy about openly discussing sex and stuff. But emails were one way we communicated more openly and he was willing to express things in an email that I guess he just didn't feel comfortable saying out loud in a conversation. It was around 10 PM when he emailed me back and I already knew by then it was too late for tonight. And that's basically what his email said. I emailed back and asked if we could hangout tomorrow. He wrote back "definitely" and wrote that he needed to cum and he was gonna jack off. I immediately wrote back and begged him not to jack off. I even said I'd come over and blow him in the backyard. It was dark enough to do that now. He wrote back and I knew what his answer would be even before I opened the email: NO. He's still very afraid of getting caught and he's a real pussy when it comes to risk taking. So I just asked him not to jack off tonight and come over tomorrow. He could sense my neediness because he wrote back asking how hard it was for me to go 2 weeks without his cock or any cum. I wrote back and told him how much I struggled and how much I need it and redoubled my efforts in trying to get him to change his mind about meeting tonight. My dad was still up, my older sister was out, and everyone else was in bed for the night. I told him no one would need to be out in the garage anymore tonight so it would be safe. When he replied, again I knew what his answer would be before I even opened it: It's too late, he was tired, we could do it tomorrow. I just replied with a simple "OK." I decided I would get ready for bed. I checked my email one last time and saw another message from him. I guess he thought maybe I was mad or something, because he wrote that he knows I need it and he admitted he needed it to. He said it was hard to jerk off the last 2 weeks because they stayed in different places and he usually had to share a bedroom with a cousin and sometimes he slept in a sleeping bag on the floor in the same room with his parents. He said he had to jack off in the shower mostly but he didn't feel comfortable doing that so he only actually jacked off a few times in the entire past 2 weeks. I appreciated his candor and willingness to share this with me. He added he decided not to jerk off tonight because he was tired and he would rather have me swallow it tomorrow. I wrote back and thanked him and asked what time we were meeting tomorrow. I waited 30 minutes and there were no more emails that night, so I assumed he went to bed and I did the same. I convinced myself that I waited 14 days, I could wait one more. But I also knew that I couldn't wait much more than that. I was excited to get back to the activities I did with my buddy and I couldn't sleep, so I decided I better jack off. I thought about him standing in front of me and I visualized a view of him banging my head into the cinder block wall as if I was another person watching it happen. I could kinda see myself sitting on the floor, but my vision was mostly focused on his bare ass pumping as he thrusted and banged my skull as hard as he could until he got off...and I shot my load on my stomach as I thought about him blowing a huge pent up load of cum in my mouth and down my throat. I wiped up, rolled over, and fell asleep.

I was up early Sunday morning. I checked my email. Nothing. I was very anxious, nervous, you could even say desperate. I pissed and then came back to check email. Nothing. I took a long hot shower then checked my email. Nothing. I got dressed and probably checked my email three times while doing it and nothing, nothing, nothing. It was still early and maybe I was expecting too much. But Jesus Christ it had been 15 days since I got my head banged and my brain sensed an opportunity was in the air. I had pretty much nonstop thoughts of being in the garage with my buddy. I was thinking about it all the time now and desperately trying to contact my "dealer" to get the next fix. Looking back, this was textbook drug addict thinking:

• Intrusive or compulsive thoughts about your substance of choice – and my substance of choice is kneeling or sitting in front of a hard surface, opening my mouth, and letting some guy fuck my face so hard that my head repeatedly slams into that hard surface behind me until I get a concussion and/or he cums;

• Feeling a desire to use substances when you think of or look at something that reminds you of your use – shit every time I went into that upstairs bathroom where this all began and saw that wooden vanity, every time I was in the garage and saw the wooden work bench and the cinder block walls, and every time I looked at any hard surface as a possible place to get head banged (including tree trunks, brick walls, metal dumpsters)... everywhere I looked I saw a surface to get head banged against and it only made me want to do it more and more;

• Wanting to reconnect with people you used substances with from your past – I was desperate to reconnect with my buddy who used me...I really didn't know how long I could wait anymore.

I kept checking my email, refreshing the browser multiple times and coming back to check every few minutes. This was not good for my anxiety. I decided to take a break and go down stairs and get something to drink. I was standing at the sink drinking some cold water when my mom walked into the kitchen and she seemed surprised but also over-enthusiastic to see me up so early on a Sunday morning. She asked me how I slept and I replied "lousy." She asked if I was hungry and if I wanted her to make some breakfast, and I snapped back that I wasn't hungry. My stomach was in knots and food was the last thing I needed. What I needed was a load of cum in my belly but I wasn't about to explain that to her. More than that though, I needed to feel that rush from the pain of getting head banged against a wall again. Then she asked if I was going to church with her and my sisters this morning and that made me swear out loud. She asked if I was feeling okay and I yelled, "Jesus fucking Christ, Mom, I'm fine! Just leave me alone." She looked shocked and told me not to take the Lord's name in vain, especially on a Sunday. But god damn it I needed my fix and that's all I could focus on. Just like I explained earlier how I was thinking like a drug addict, I was also acting like a junkie in withdrawal. That same text book describes some of the physical and behavioral symptoms of substance use addiction including anxiety or depression, confusion, poor appetite, irritability or impatience, mood instability, and poor distress tolerance. And right now I was experiencing all of these. And right now I wanted to get back to my room and check my email. On my way back upstairs I passed my dad who was headed out to go golfing like he does on most Sundays. I bolted up the stairs to avoid a conversation with him.

When I got to my room I immediately checked email. Nothing. I almost started crying. I refreshed the browser about 100 times over the next ten minutes hoping to see a new message pop up in the inbox. At the risk of appearing desperate and needy, even though that's exactly what I was, I decided to email him again. It was a short, simple message that read something like "hey I'm up. my dad just left to play golf and wont be back until this afternoon and my mom and sisters will be leaving for church soon and then going to brunch after so I'm gonna be home alone for a few hours if you wanna come over and hang out." It took over a half hour before he finally replied and it was something like "you don't want to hang out. You just wanna suck my dick again." I immediately replied and confirmed that I did indeed want to suck him off, but I boldly added that I needed head banging real bad. He wrote back and wrote something about me being a "sick faggot fuck" and I wrote back and apologized and tried to explain that I can't help it and that I needed this and that it's been so long I was going crazy not getting it. I mentioned in previous chapters that my buddy and I rarely talk about what we do together, even less in person, but occasional over email he felt more comfortable typing things that he probably didn't feel comfortable saying out loud. He did write back and wrote something like if I need it so bad he will give it to me and he added that he didn't jerk off last night or this morning yet so he was ramped up and wanting to do it soon. He wrote he'd come over around 9 AM after my mom and sisters left for church. And that was the end of the emails for now.

I was a nervous anxious mess. My obsession of refreshing the browser every few seconds when I was waiting for his message earlier this morning was replaced by the obsession of checking the clock. The time passed slowly. At about 8:40 I heard my mom calling up the stairs for my sisters and then I heard her go out to the garage and I heard her car start up before she started backing out on to the driveway. She tooted the horn and I heard my sisters rush from their room and down the stairs and the back door slammed shut. I heard two car doors shut and then the car backing out of the driveway and then there was silence, at least in the house. Inside my head, however, I could hear my heart beating. My brain knew something was up, and I think it was preparing itself for another possible concussion. This was becoming a predictable pattern and my mind and body anticipated what was about to happen. I ran down stairs and out the door and out to the garage. I closed the big garage door for privacy and then opened the back door so it was ready for him to come right in. I stood looking out the back garage door toward the direction he would be walking. I swear to god my heart rate doubled when I finally saw him cutting through the backyard toward me. When he got a bit closer I waved at him and his response was to grab his crotch while he was still walking forward. I stepped further into the garage and was pacing around when he finally appeared in the doorway. He said nothing as he closed the door behind him and I walked to the cinder block wall and sat down. It was good to be back into this position after more than 2 weeks without getting a good head banging. He walked up to me and right in front of my face he started undoing his belt, then the button on his cargo shorts, and the sound of the jingling belt buckle and his zipper going down made me lick my lips. He stood between my spread legs and let his shorts and underwear drop to his ankles. His dick was already hard. I knew that since he didn't have many opportunities to jack off while he was on the family trip, and that he purposefully skipped jacking off last night and this morning, he would have even more urgency to cum and I hoped that would translate to aggression and that he'd be even rougher banging my head against the wall. I was ready for it. I needed it. I open my mouth wide and leaned forward to take his hard cock into my mouth. He moaned as lips and tongue made his cock wet with spit. He started thrusting right away and my head hit the wall with good force and I quickly pivoted forward on his pull back stroke to accept that next hard thrust. He quickly set a solid, sustained rhythm, and I succumbed to the need of my sick addiction. He was banging my skull real good, but on instinct my hands traveled from the cement floor of the garage to lightly rest on his hips and side of his ass. This was my way of begging him to go harder. He didn't have to stop, pull out of my mouth and hear me beg him; simply feeling my hands resting on his hips and ass was all the begging he needed from me. He started thrusting harder and my head was banging the wall harder in response to his increased force. He also increased the speed and that familiar electric buzzing was already starting to hum through my brain. After another minute or two the colors appeared; beautiful metallic greens and flickers of electric blue. All I had to do was keep my mouth open, keep my teeth out of the way while still making a strong suction with my lips and tongue around his shaft and throbbing head of his cock, and lean forward to follow him on his pull backs. That was it: keep good, wet suction and keep leaning forward so he could thrust hard enough to make my skull hit the wall over and over. From time to time I would adjust the position of my hands on his hips and ass, and each time it triggered him to fuck my face harder and faster. The back of my head was hurting and a bruise was developing on the back wall of my throat, but the pain I was feeling was part of my sick addiction. I wanted him to hurt me. But at the same time I wanted his pleasure to be maximized. I wanted him to feel good as he hurt me. Shit I'd let him crack my skull open if it made his orgasm more intense. As usual, there would be no orgasm for me. My cock didn't get hard from this. If it did, it was mostly in the beginning, out of anticipation, and also from the sights and smells of having another guy's crotch in my face. But once the head banging started and the buzzing and humming and colors appeared, and for sure once I started to feel pain, any erection or thought of sustaining a hard on, and any expectation that I would have an orgasm or get any sexual pleasure out of this quickly dissipated. My addicted brain had no interest in allowing my body to experience sexual pleasure or release. My addicted brain wanted and needed those chemicals to get released, to be flooded with dopamine and other endorphins that made all my anxiety and depression and insecurities disappear for a while. Even thought my body sought no sexual pleasure for itself, what me and my buddy did together certainly was sexual. I enjoyed the smell and taste of his sweaty cock and balls and I definitely craved eating his cum and semen and sperm. I also found it erotic that he would use me like this just to get himself off and not have any concern for me and without any desire that this be a mutual sexual act between us. He became the model for the types of guys or "tops" that I submit to, the ones who are selfish and the ones who could care less if I came or not, so long as they get a good pleasurable release. I actually even prefer to submit to guys who not only don't care whether I get off or not, but who actually forbid me to get off or get any sexual gratification at all. But like I explained, there is always some sexual benefit for me, just in seeing and smelling and tasting a guy and eating his sperm. I don't think it is possible to separate that because this is still a sexual act, even if it involves banging my head so hard I get a concussion. And it is always better if there is a definite connection between my pain and his pleasure. After doing this for 8 years I tend to rate whether or not a session was good based on how much pain and adverse side effects I have afterwards, in combination with any evidence I have regarding the intensity of his climax. This might be the volume of cum he shoots, how hard he cums, how quickly he reaches that climax, any sounds he makes (including moans, grunts, swear words, and heavy breathing) and any descriptions or information he voluntarily provides regarding how he felt during and after the session. I have learned not to ask if it was good or not. Some guys say nothing (but the fact that they come back often tells me something), and some guys are vocal and will volunteer statements like "damn that was good" or "I came so hard." The only praise and admiration given, by him or by me, is only in regard to his performance, his abilities as a face fucking, head banging stud. For me, as the submissive, I remain humble and thankful at all times, knowing that I am just a hole and he can find many other women, faggots, and cocksuckers to pleasure him. I am nothing special. Like I said earlier, all I have do is sit there, keep a strong wet suction, keep my teeth out of the way, control my gag reflex and my breathing so as to not interrupt the rhythm he establishes, and keep leaning forward on the pullback strokes so that there is good distance for him to power thrust my skull back into the wall as hard as he wants to repeatedly. And probably most importantly, as a submissive, I can never stop him, no matter what. Even if the head banging is so hard it hurts my skull real bad, even if my brain is vibrating, even if I'm bleeding, or feeling like I'm going to pass out, I cannot stop him. I've been lucky enough to meet some head bangers who make this a challenge for me. More than one guy has told me something like "You wanted this so bad you need to take it." And I totally agree with this.

So after more than 2 weeks without it, my buddy is giving it to me: I wanted it so bad, so I had to take it no matter what. In my memory, at least, I think this was the roughest and most urgent head banging face fuck he ever gave me. He really did need to cum, and unfortunately that meant while this was probably the hardest head banging he gave me, it was also probably one of the shortest ones. Even though my head hurt, I would have sat there against the wall for an hour if he was able to go that long. But being 16, and not having jerked off much in the past 2 weeks, he didn't last more than 5 minutes. All the telltale signs of an impending orgasm were there: the sudden increase in speed and force, the grunting, and the words: "I'm gonna cum...I'm gonna cummmmm... fuck...gonna cum you sick...faggot...fuck..." and then the final hard slam of my skull against the cinder block wall and being pinned by his cock as he shot a pretty big load in the back of my throat. I gagged because of the volume and the force. But I swallowed it all. He backed up and I coughed a few times. The buzzing in my brain was loud and my head hurt. But I felt so damn good even with the pain. Still seeing the colors of the fireworks from the last minute or so of the face fuck when my skull was banging the wall really hard and fast, and with the buzzing so loud in my head that I couldn't hear what he was saying, I leaned forward and licked his cock clean. Then drawn by the masculine scent of his sweaty balls, I started sniffing and licking them. His hands rubbed my head and it hurt whenever he rubbed over the bump on the back of my head. He made some comment but the buzzing was still so loud I didn't make out what he said, but I think he was commenting on the bump on the back of my head because he kept rubbing it while I licked on his balls. It was very obvious he didn't shower this morning and I was so grateful for that. My hearing was impacted, and my sight was a little blurry, but luckily my sense of smell and my taste buds were not affected at all, and my tongue tingled with the tang of his salty sweat. After licking his balls clean, I started sucking them, one at a time. It feels so cool when a guy's testicle pops through my sucking lips and I can lightly tongue it in my mouth. I'm always gentle though, because I don't ever want to cause him or any other guys any discomfort. I am also careful to keep everything in perspective: while I enjoy the smell and taste and feel of sweaty balls in my face and mouth, this ritual I do is not really about that. Cleaning a guy's cock and balls after he uses me is a submissive act of respect and gratitude. I think I ended up sucking on his balls longer than I sucked his cock this time. He came so fast. But what was lacking in length of the session was balanced by the roughness of the face fuck. In just 5 minutes he gave me a headache and a sore throat and a bump on the back of my head, plus the electric buzzing in my brain that I needed so desperately. Usually these things only happen during longer sessions. So out of thankfulness and respect for his abilities as a head banging face fucking stud, I took extra time to clean his cock and balls. But I noticed something. He was still rock hard. His erection that normally starts to deflate within seconds of his orgasm was not going down. I could feel his hard cock on my chin and nose and cheeks as I moved my head around to clean his sweaty balls. As long as he stood there rubbing my head I was willing to keep my face in his crotch, licking and sucking on his balls. By now all the salty sweat was licked away and his sack hung loose and low. Maybe 10 minutes passed before his hands left my head and he stepped back from me. His cock was still rock hard. And it throbbed. He was making it dance. I think he was a little surprised that his erection was not going down. There was the smallest bead of residual cum right at the piss slit. I leaned forward and kissed the head of his cock and felt the slimy substance coat my lips. I licked his cock head. I flicked my tongue under the head. I leaned forward farther and wrapped my lips around his cock head and started lightly sucking. My hearing was returning because I heard a light moan come from him. After a minute he pushed me away. I thought for sure he was done as he bent down to grab his shorts and underwear that were still around his ankles. To my surprise, he didn't pull them up. Instead he worked them over and around his sneakers and took his shorts and underwear completely off and kicked them to the side a bit. And then he said the words I have grown to love to hear from a guy, but this was the first time he ever said them to me: "I wanna cum again."

I was still sitting on the cement floor with the cinder block wall behind me. I leaned forward and opened my mouth. But he backed up and was no longer standing between my legs that were spread in a V. He told me to close my legs. And when I did, he walked up to me again, this time his feet, still wearing his sneakers, were on either side of me. This was a new stance for him. He was always so afraid of getting caught that he never took his pants all the way off and they stayed bunched around his ankles so he could never spread his legs like this before. We were both about to learn that this new stance would increase the force of his thrusting and after this we never used the old stance anymore. I opened my mouth and leaned forward to get his hard cock back into my mouth and he started thrusting immediately. Over the past few months since we moved out to the garage, his body definitely developed some muscle memory and was using it now. The rhythm was set and the motion of his hips was automatic, and my skull was once again banging against the cinder block was at a solid pace. The buzzing hadn't stopped from the last head banging face fuck that just concluded about 11 or 12 minutes ago. The buzzing got louder right away and the colors that never had time to fully dissipate were back in full brightness from the first impact. The bump on the back of my head hurt even more than it did when he was rubbing it while I sucked his sweaty balls clean just minutes before. And his cock head was a battering ram against the tender bruise on the back wall of my throat that he managed to create even though it was a short session earlier. The jarring on my brain each time my skull banged increased the buzzing and in a way, dulled some of the pain as that bump on the back of my head continued to bang the wall. With a wider stance, and without the restriction of his pants bunched around his ankles, and with his hands on the wall like he was doing pushups while standing up, he was able to thrust harder. We both enjoyed that for different reasons of course. For me it increased the buzzing and the release of chemicals that I was addicted to, and for him it increased the physical sensations that brought him pleasure, as well as the mental rush he was getting from knowing he was fucking my face as hard as he could, banging my skull as hard as he could, and knowing he was hurting me. It was a magical combination of things that made this work for us. There was that yin and yang thing going on that I described in earlier chapters. There was also a dual addiction here and we were both getting what we needed in different ways but through the same means. You already know what head banging does to me. But it did different things for him and for the other guys I've met over the years who get off on head banging a cock sucker into near unconsciousness (and sometimes beyond!).

This was the first time we did two head banging face fucks this close together. For him, unfortunately, this would be a rare occurrence. Even for a normal, healthy 16 year old, there can be limits on how many times he can cum in a day and how much recovery time he needs between orgasms. He did stay completely hard after he came and he was able to start face fucking my skull against the wall within about 10 minutes of having a powerfully intense orgasm. The last time we did a "double header" (pun intended) like this there was about 3 hours between them, and he obviously went soft after the first one and had some recovery time. Today we were at it a second time after just 10 minutes and he did not go soft or have much recovery time at all.

I've been lucky through the years to meet guys with all kinds of variations in their fucking abilities and orgasm control. I've met head bangers who need to go at least an hour NON STOP before they can cum. I've also met some who head bang for the typical 15-20 minutes and then cum, stay hard, and go again right after with no break in between. Most of the time it takes them a lot longer to cum again, so it makes a good long head banging session. I've also met guys who cum fast but often. I knew this one guy after college and he even let me stay at his place for a couple months until I was able to get an apartment. He could cum 5 times in a row without stopping but it only took him about 30 minutes start to finish. He wasn't much into head banging and he preferred to fuck my throat by having me lay on the bed on my back with my head off the edge and he'd just plow my throat for 30-40 minutes non-stop and drop 5 or 6 loads in my gullet. After that he was done for a couple days. I do meet a lot more throat fuckers than I do head bangers, and me on my back with my head off the edge is a popular position. If I'm hosting and they come to my place, even if they are not head bangers, I found a way to sorta mix the two together. I have a tall bed which works well for throat fucking, but I cut some planks that I can tuck between the mattress and the bed frame, so when I hang my head off the edge my skull is up against solid wood and not the mattress. Most are unaware of this, and those who are aware of it are either indifferent to it (one guy thought it was weird but ended up saying "to each his own" and fucked my throat hard enough to make my head hit the plank) or they are kinda turned on by it, and while they are not trying to bang my head on purpose, they don't mind if it happens while they throat fuck me and in some cases it makes them fuck my throat harder. My favorite guys to hook up with are the ones who are aware of my addiction and who are turned on by it and who do get more pleasure and magnify the intensity of their orgasms by banging my skull against something hard like a wall, a door jam, a piece of sturdy furniture, a bathroom vanity, a work bench, or even a tree, light pole, fence post, or a boulder if we happen to be outdoors. And it is always a bonus when the guy using me has STAMINA and can either provide a very long head banging face fuck session or string 2 or 3 shorter face fucks into one long hard session. And of course, the best of all, are the guys who take 2 hours to cum and need to be fucking nonstop that entire time to get off, and then can do it one or two more times with NO BREAKS or maybe with short breaks in between. I don't set up a timer or record start and end times, but over the years I have had some long sessions. I remember one guy who provided a head banging face fuck session that lasted about 5 hours with no breaks (other than a few seconds to change positions and locations/surfaces to use); he came 3 times during that session. I've also spent a day or an overnight or even a weekend with different guys who provided multiple head banging face fucks while we hung out, but with breaks in between lasting 1 to 2 to even 3 or more hours in between. With the exception of the guy I stayed with who could cum 5 times in about 30-40 minutes without stopping his thrusts, in almost every case, with every other guy, the length of time fucking my head to cum again increases after each orgasm, no matter if he goes non-stop with no breaks in between, or if he takes breaks to recover. I think that is just natural; the more orgasms a guy has in one day, it usually takes him longer to reach the next climax. So the guys who want multiple orgasms during a session, and who have the ability to cum 2, 3, or even more times are my favorite because I know I'm going to get hurt and get my addiction satisfied for a while. I'm not knocking the "one and done" guys by any means. It just means I gotta look for multiple guys to get to the level I crave. That is still fun, but ever since COVID and also with the dawn of multiple hookup apps, it seems like it's a lot more work to find head banging face fuckers these days. I will admit that one of the reasons for writing and publishing this story on Nifty.org is to hopefully find more guys who want to head bang me, and some of you are reaching out to me by email and I truly appreciate that. But the main reason I am spending the time on this project is to make sure I get it all written down while I still can. I do have some memory issues and I am having vision problems with my left eye. And my primary care doctor thinks I might have had a TIA (transient ischemic attack, or "mini stroke") a couple weeks ago because for about 30-40 seconds when I was at work I couldn't talk. It was like my tongue froze and I had some confusion and my coworkers were concerned. But it hasn't happened again so I don't think it was anything really. But my doctor says my blood pressure is high but she knows I don't want to start taking medication for it. Anyway, I'm really not downplaying things. I mean it is entirely possible that I had a small blood clot somewhere in my brain and that it might be from all the concussions and the fact that I can't (and won't and don't want to) stop head banging; but it is also just as likely that it is just high blood pressure because it goes hand and hand with my life long anxiety disorder. To be honest, I really don't care either way. And I'm hoping that some of you reading my stories also do not care and still want to meet up for some head banging sessions. I still need this and want this.

So anyway, I need to finish this chapter and wrap up this part of my story so I can document some of the more extreme experiences I have had and still continue to seek out. With that wider stance, my buddy was able to thrust harder and I was explaining that since he just came 12 minutes earlier, I was about to learn how long it would take him to cum again. The first head banging face fuck that just ended only took about 5 minutes start to end. For this second head banging face fuck, we had already doubled that and were passing the 10 minute mark and there was no sign of my buddy slowing down, nor any signs that he was nearing another climax. He was back in machine mode. He still had an urgency to cum, and I could tell he was focused on his fucking; it must have been feeling good because he kept going, maintaining a good speed, keeping that solid rhythm we both liked, and the force of my skull impacting the wall was consistent and harder than it was during the first face fuck. While he was zoned out in machine mode, keeping his hips moving and thrusting, I was zoned out in head banger bliss. My eyes were closed and the colors flashed with each impact of my skull against the hard cinder block wall behind me. I could feel the impacts, I could hear the sound of my skull bone hit the wall, but it was muffled and almost completely overpowered by the buzzing in my brain. Remember the rocking I mentioned I used to do as a self-soothing coping skill when I was anxious and stressed out? Well I was still rocking, but in a different way, as I pushed myself forward to follow each of his pullback strokes and then letting his hard cock drive me backwards to bang my skull on the wall as his cock head continued to pummel the bruise on the back wall of my throat. It hurt. And so did the bump on the back of my head. But I didn't want him to stop. I didn't want the buzzing and colors in my brain to fade. The rocking motion helped sooth the pain somewhat. This is what I needed. This is what I waited for while he was gone on a family trip for two weeks. This is what I begged for when I contacted him when he got home. This is what I am addicted to. It's now been 15 minutes nonstop and I'm loving every second of it, despite the pain. Without even being aware of it, my hands moved to lightly rest on his hips and ass again. This was the nonverbal "begging" for him to go faster and harder. I was unaware of the conscious decision to place my hands there. It was as if my brain knew what it needed and was doing the begging for me. As always, my hands resting on his hips and ass did what it usually does and his thrusting moved to a higher gear. Another 5 minutes passed and I was barely even aware of the pain anymore. The buzzing in my brain was so loud and so electric it was thrilling, and the colors were more vibrant, the flashes starting to get brighter each time my head banged the wall. The bangs were harder and coming faster. Another 5 minutes passed and my buddy now maintained a sustained head banging face fuck for 20 minutes, by far the longest we had gone. I was lost in it and then without warning it stopped. My eyes were still closed so he slapped my face and I opened them. The buzzing was so loud I didn't hear whet he said but I saw him point to the wooden work bench and I knew what that meant. I scrambled as fast as I could to lean against one of the solid wood beam legs of the work bench. I felt light headed as I crawled to the bench. Out of habit I had my legs spread out in a V like we always did, forgetting that he had removed his pants and no longer had that restriction. When he walked up to me, his hard wet cock bobbing, he kicked my left leg and said something I couldn't hear and then he kicked my other leg. I understood and closed my legs so he could get back into the wide stance that he just discovered. He leaned over and rested his hands on the top of the work bench; I leaned forward with my mouth wide open. The first thrust was powerful and my skull banged the wooden leg of the work bench really hard and I saw a flash of white in my brain. It hurt but I didn't care. I still needed this badly, and I rocked forward on his pullback stroke and let him resume his machine-mode thrusting. He nailed my skull to the bench repeatedly. It hurt a lot, the bump on the back of my head knocking hard over and over. His pace was fast like before. And it was steady, sustained, nonstop. I could feel every impact but I could not hear them. The vibrations made my brain tingle. The buzzing sounded like the noise you hear if you ever walked near an electric transformer substation, you know those places where there are lots of power lines and metal boxes with coils coming out the top connected to the lines, and the whole area is fenced off with "danger: high voltage" signs on them. Google "electric transformer substation" if you don't know what I mean. Anyway, it sounded like a loud, angry electrical device inside my head. Even with my eyes open I was seeing colors, but when I closed them they were so much brighter and actually beautiful. I was mesmerized which I think distracted me from the pain in my throat and the back of my skull. With his wider stance he was able to thrust so much harder and he knew it and took advantage of it. He has never face fucked me this hard before, nor as fast. And subsequently he had never made my head bang a surface as hard as it was now. And by far this was the longest he has ever sustained such a steady, non-stop face fuck; the only break was the few seconds it took me to scramble over to the work bench. I estimate it was a good 10, maybe 15 minutes at the work bench before he came. It was an explosive orgasm and a big load being his second one within the hour. And although I couldn't hear him, I'm almost certain he was vocal and warning me he was about to cum, because he had a pattern of punctuating his orgasms with really hard thrusts as he shot his load, and that's what he did this time too. I saw bright white flashes each time my head banged the wooded leg of the work bench and there were about 7 or 8 of those really hard bangs right before he stopped moving and I could taste cum. Once I realized he was done and he pulled out of my mouth, the pain started to throb. I no longer had the distraction of his thrusting cock or the flashes of color, and I was no longer rocking back and forth which was also soothing some of the pain while he was inflicting it. But now it felt like my head was cracked open. I did feel the back of my skull and the bump was definitely bigger and tender to the touch, but there was no blood. I was worried that there might be. Now there are times when I do bleed from head banging face fucks, but it doesn't worry me in the least. Back then it did, and mostly because I was worried that I might get blood on my dad's work bench or on the cement floor of the garage and I'd have to explain it to him.

I watched my buddy put his underwear and cargo shorts back on. He buttoned them and pulled up the zipper and buckled the belt, but I couldn't hear the jingle of his belt buckle. I think he said something a few times. I just sat there, leaning against the work bench in a daze as I watched him. When I didn't reply to him he got closer to me and waved his hand in front of my face. Then he offered his hand to help me up off the floor. I was unsteady when I stood up and stayed leaning against the work bench. I felt lightheaded, dizzy, even nauseous. I had a pounding headache and still couldn't hear anything but the electric buzz in my brain. I felt the pain, but I also felt the surge of dopamine still flooding my brain. Nature's pain killer. Other chemicals were also being released as buffers and healing agents after the jarring my brain took for the past 35 minutes or so, not to mention the quick but hard banging that preceded this much longer one. My buddy punched mey playfully on my left arm before walking out the back of the garage to head home. I stood there a few minutes, almost stunned, but also feeling very euphoric at the same time. I took a few steps and the garage started to spin. I steadied myself and took it slow, keeping one hand on the wall as I walked toward the back door of the garage. Once I got out into the back yard the sunlight seemed so bright to me. It made my headache worse. And as I turned to walk toward the house, I suddenly became very dizzy and dropped to my knees. I vomited right on the lawn. I hadn't had anything to eat yet today, and only had water earlier. But it was still gross to puke and it tasted awful. There was probably cum in my vomit, and that made me sad that my buddie's load was wasted that way. Despite all this, and even with the splitting headache, the sore bruised throat, and the tender painful bump on the back of my head, I still felt amazing and quite high. I crawled away from where I puked, and then laid in the cool grass in a shady spot of the yard and closed my eyes and rested. I saw the colors and they were so pretty. There was no white now, only the electric blues and greens, with some pink on the peripheral edges. I laid there a while because I still felt dizzy. Resting my head in the soft grass didn't bother the bump on the back of my head all that much. My throat hurt when I swallowed, so I tried not to do that too much. I remember falling asleep for a little while, maybe about 20 minutes. When I woke up the buzzing wasn't as loud but it was still there. The headache I had was throbbing again. When I sat up, I was lightheaded a little, but not dizzy. After sitting there a few minutes more, I stood up and walked toward the house. I got into the kitchen and had another glass of cold water, mostly to rinse the bad taste out of my mouth. I walked up the stairs slowly and made it to my room. I laid on my bed and closed my eyes and still saw the colors. The buzzing was still there and although my head and throat hurt, I was feeling a blissful calmness and it felt that all of the stress and anxiety and depression were gone. Then I heard the car pull into the driveway and my mom and sisters were home. I didn't let that destroy my high though. I stayed lying on my bed watching the colors and feeling the electric charge in my brain as chemicals were still being released. This was like a runner's high, only it was a head banging high, and I wanted it to last a while and give myself time to enjoy it.

My buddy and I never had another session that extreme again. Even though I wanted it and hoped it would happen. We still met up in the garage, but it was down to an average of about 2 times a week through the rest of the summer. It was still good. We used the cider block wall mostly, but sometimes the work bench, and a bunch of times we used both: starting with the wall and ending with the work bench, and a couple times the opposite way. When summer was over and we were back in school, the number of times we met for head banging face fucks didn't increase past twice a week, and sometimes dropped down to once a week. It was barely enough to keep me going. My anxiety and depression got worse again, for a number of reasons. I really needed this more often then what I was getting. Sometime right before Thanksgiving my buddy started going steady with a girl in the senior class. He felt like a big shot dating a senior and apparently she was putting out because our hook ups were getting less and less. Plus it was getting colder and the garage was not heated, and my buddy didn't want to go back to head banging me in the bathroom. And that was fine with me, because that was not enough for me anymore. I did go through withdrawals. I had guys I was sucking and some were into the rougher face fucking and throat fucking that I like too, but it took me a long time to find another head banger. It made me question if what my buddy used to say was true, when he called me a sick faggot fuck. Maybe this was too sick for most guys to be interested in. I dated some girls and was getting head and pussy on the regular, and still sucking off guys like I said. The other thing I did was get a job and I worked almost every weekend, and a few school nights a week. My family is not poor by any means; we are average middle-to-upper class I guess. But my parents have an expectation that if there are things we want, we should work for them. And there were two things (besides sucking cock, getting face fucked and brutal head bangings) that I really wanted: a car and a cell phone. My parents helped with both, but I had to show I was able to pay the phone bill and cover gas and all that. Having this as a goal helped me focus and work hard and by Christmas time I had both a decent used car and my own cell phone. Both of these helped me find ways to feed my addiction. And over the next few chapters I will describe some of the guys I met and the experiences I had that really pushed this addiction to new levels.

Thanks for reading so far, and I hope to get more chapters posted sooner than later. If you want to chat about head banging me and maybe see if we can hook up in real time to do this, you can reach out to me. My email is listed at the top of each chapter.