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This story is mostly fictional and definitely aspirational :).
Portions may be fictionalized accounts of the author, EXCEPT WHEN INDICATED.
It contains descriptions of sexual interactions between males.
All copyrights belong to the author. All Rights Reserved. May not be republished outside of nifty.org without the author's permission.
Comments very much welcome at breedpig@gmail.com
Owner Operated, Part 1
by
Breed Pig
My buddy called me: "Hey, how about coming by to hang out? Hot tub it, maybe?"
I wondered what he meant by hanging out. Certainly the idea of a soak in his hot tub was appealing, no matter how he meant it: it was private on his deck, but there was also a nearly unobstructed view of the City. Plus, I wouldn't be taking any swim trunks to wear.
At first I thought his timing was random, but then I remembered that out of the blue a couple of weeks before I had remembered that he owned a speedo. Granted, I hadn't seen him wearing it since we were together a very long time ago, but something made me think of it. I had asked him about it and he said he believed he still had it.
Still, if I was going to be hot tubbing it with Frank, I had no plans to be anything but naked.
"So? What do you think?" he asked again. "Let me put it another way, what time will you be here?"
"See you in 30."
He hung up abruptly. So I guessed that was a `yes'.
On my way over to his place, I started getting hard. It didn't generally do to make assumptions about what, if anything, might happen. But I couldn't help it: I kept thinking about how great a fuck he was and how thick is cock was and how he was so into my furry hole that we had fucked in a whole bunch of different places around San Francisco just because that can't-help-it madness hit him. I was already used to him running his fingers down the back of my jeans and digging a couple of fingers into my hole: he especially liked to do it while I was talking with someone else. He liked to make me work to keep my composure: much as he loved my ass, I seriously fucking LOVE having my hole paid attention to. Fingers. Tongue. That spike-hard fat dick of his. The casual brutality of his decision that he needed to cum in me.
And holy hell, can that guy cum. Once, a long time ago, I asked him to pull out and shoot all over my face (I was trying on the idea of being that kind of `whore' about cum). He did and I nearly drowned. Rope after rope of this cum blasted hard against my face. He'd ordered me to stay put and not move while he went to get a towel. My guess is that both my eyes were covered, and probably my nostrils as well.
But for as long as I can remember now, whenever we'd end up hooking up he'd want me naked and either facing away from the door or actually blindfolded when he was needing to fuck me. He'd text me first: "I need to cum in you."
I'd always get instantly hard, and then naked, and then up on the bed. He'd always arrive within 10 minutes. I'd hear him getting fully undressed. Try that one sometime you're about to get fucked: close your eyes and just listen to a man taking his clothes off. I'm actually surprised I don't shoot my own load before he'd ever get on the bed.
Sometimes in these sessions he'd eat my furry hole for a long time, and other sessions he'd eat my furry hole for a long, long, LONG time -- like I said, he was really into my furry hole.
I'd always end up with his full load in me, sometimes actually feeling each of his power-spurts as it hit the walls of my insides.
I was already nearly at his place when I realized that all these thoughts had terribly distracted me while I was driving. Bad idea. But I was still hard because I knew the hold he had on me: the promise of a hole-stretching fuck and a load as big as any other three men's.
As I parked the car, I realized that there was never any promise of anything happening. That didn't relieve my hard-on, though, because whenever it was just the two of us -- or I should say, whenever he could make time for it to be just the two of us -- I'd end up having my hole paid attention to - a LOT.
So I knocked on the door and Frank answered. He smiled, saying nothing but welcoming me into his house. As I turned the corner into the living room, my spirits -- and my erection -- dropped: there was someone else there. A very handsome, bearded someone else.
And while I love looking at beautiful men as much as any man, I knew categorically that his presence meant that it was going to be a social visit. And only social.
Frank followed me into the room before I had a chance to introduce myself, letting the back of his hand rub against my butt (through my jeans, of course).
"Joe, John. John, Joe."
"Hello, John," I offered, and since John was moving to stand up, Frank could keep his hand against my ass. I reached my hand out and took John's, giving a warm, social handshake.
Frank's hand was still on my butt, but now it was his palm against my ass and his fingers pressing against the middle seam of my 501s.
"Beer?" Frank asked me.
"Of course," I replied.
"Me, too," John said, not interrupting his smile or his looking at me.
We toasted with the bottles, and the small talk began. We sat down on his sofa exchanging pleasantries, and background information, and the longer this went on, the more certain I was that my ass wasn't going to get what it needed, what I needed, what I was expecting: Frank's hard cock balls-deep in my hole, pumping ropes of cum all over my insides.
Goddammit, I said to myself.
Eventually, I had to piss, and so I excused myself to the restroom. It took a bit longer than usual because unlike some -- unlike Frank, for example -- I cannot piss when I'm hard.
It had been a few minutes and when I returned to the living room, John and Frank were standing near the glass doors looking out at the view.
"Something in particular out there?" I ventured.
"John hasn't been here in a while, so we were just looking. Oh, like you don't do the same thing every time, too."
It was a strange admission, acknowledging in front of someone else that I have been to his place on a regular basis, making me wonder what else he had told John. "True," was all I could manage.
They'd moved apart a bit and I walked up to the glass doors between them.
"Hang on a sec," Frank said, crossing the room to turn down the indoor lights. John was still standing quite close to me.
And when Frank returned, he positioned himself almost imperceptibly closer to me.
"There, that's better," Frank said.
John followed quickly with, "It sure is."
I turned to look at Frank and he leaned in some, hesitated, then went in for the kiss. A DEEP kiss. Much as I enjoyed making out with Frank, we weren't the only two people there. For Frank, at least as far as it went with me, this was full-on exhibitionism.
Ending the kiss, but keeping his head close to mine, he said, "Yeah, I saw your hard-on when I answered the door."
And before I could protest, he resumed the kiss -- WE resumed the kiss -- and Frank started to unbutton my jeans. He grabbed at my rock-hard cock through my briefs and moaned into the kiss.
When I reached out to touch the front of his jeans, he broke the kiss again, pushed my hand away and just nodded side to side.
"I need to cum in you," he said.
I stammered, "uhhhhh..."
"And you need a big raw cock up that furry hole of yours, don't you."
It wasn't a question.
I felt the back of my jeans being pulled down, my briefs along with them.
I started to turn my head, if only to acknowledge what was happening, but Frank wouldn't let me.
He went back to talking quietly, right into my ear, "Bet you didn't think you were gonna be gettin' bred after you got here, huh."
Again, not a question.
"I know you can't say no to me when it gets like this."
Like this? I thought to myself. Someone I don't know is behind me.
As if he read my mind: "Focus on me. Look at me."
I made eye contact and he continued, "You started taking my raw dick because you couldn't help yourself. And you started taking my loads in that fucking hot furry hole of yours because you needed it."
"I need your cum in my ass," I replied.
"That's not what I mean. You needed me to own your hole."
I groaned. I might have even whimpered.
The onslaught continued: "You know that every time I've drained my balls into you it just made you that much less able to say no."
I knew my cock was now leaking like a faucet, and I felt fingers digging into the thick fur in my ass crack.
I was going out of my fucking mind in anticipation.
"Tell me you need cum in your hole."
"I need your cum in my hole."
"Tell me you want to feel a wet cock head rubbing around on your hole."
"I need your cock rubbing around on my hole!"
I was getting close to losing it. I was shaking.
"Tell me you need fucked right now."
"I need you to fuck me right now!" Jesus Christ! I didn't know what was happening.
Frank planted his mouth on mine and reached up my shirt to gently flick at my nips exactly how I liked it.
And that's when everything went white with pain. I started to tense up all over, but something else -- let's call it sexual instinct -- took over and I was just as quickly relaxing my entire body, and pushing my hole out towards the cock head against it.
"Fuck me, Frank." I was a goner, I was begging. Pleading, really.
"That's John's big meat going in your fuck hole. And you're ok with it."
Not a question.
I did start to push Frank away from me, but he held on tight: "You're going to take John's raw cock in your furry hole because that's what I want."
I grunted.
"I didn't fucking hear you!"
"Anything you say. Any cock you want me to take. Anything. Need cum. Need to be what I am. Need to do what you say." I was rambling.
"See what you are? Feel John's big dick in you? No, don't turn around! You don't even know him and you're taking his raw dick. Tell me why."
"What do you mean--" ¨ "Tell me why!"
"Because I'm a cum whore." I wasn't entirely convinced of that myself and it sounded like it.
"Yeah, you're a fucking cum whore, but WHOSE cum whore? Who owns that furry hole of yours?" ¨ ¨"You."
"I can't fucking hear you."
"YOU."
"John can't fucking hear you!"
"YOU FUCKING OWN MY CUM HOLE."
"Goddamn right."
I wasn't finished, "YOU'VE ALREADY SHOT SO MUCH CUM IN ME. GALLONS OF IT. YOU OWN IT. YOU OWN MY HOLE."
"Attaboy."
And that's when my cock shot off, flooding the pouch of my briefs.
"Fuck! I can feel his puss squeezing my cock while he's shooting!" That was John who said that, I told myself.
Frank asked, "Who's letting John fuck your hole?"
"I--"
Frank smacked at my super-sensitive cock still hard in my briefs.
"YOU! You are letting John fuck my hole."
"AND?"
"And you're going to let him cum inside my hole?"
Another smack at my cock.
"Try again." Frank again.
"YOU'RE GOING TO LET HIM CUM INSIDE A HOLE YOU OWN!"
As my reward, Frank put his mouth back on mine, kissing deeply.
And that's when John grabbed my hips and started power-fucking my already-battered hole.
It was hurting like hell, but I was loving it.
John asked Frank, "Seriously I can drop my load in this hot piece of ass?"
"Sure, buddy." While you're in town, what's mine is yours.
TO BE CONTINUED