Trent Hardacre meets his match Chapter 9 - Resolution
Themes include fisting, gear, tattoos, cum and fucking. Average reading time 10 minutes.
If you enjoy reading this - or any story in the Nifty archive - please make a donation to keep this invaluable resource going. Any and every contribution helps.
Trent was learning new skills every day. Or perhaps - more importantly - he was learning to use his new found knowledge to adjust and refine his own instincts. So far, he'd had a lifetime of using holes for his own selfish pleasures. But now it was time for him to be more than just a machine for splitting tight cunts wide open.
Of course, nothing would ever stop him from being a consummate and punishing top, but now Trent came to realise how he could use his physical gifts (that oh so gigantic dick) and his own considerable experiences (fucking, fisting and more) to deliver unrivalled pleasure.
He had been building up to his new understanding of his place in life for a while. Sure, his journey of versatile discovery had been intense (sucking a cock for the first time, losing his cherry and then both giving and taking fist) but his biggest change had been learning to truly appreciate the calibre of guys he played with.
His continuing journey meant he met all sorts, including those who just wanted him for his muscles and his dick. Or worse, because they just needed a guy to work them open, no matter who Trent was. Soon he realised it worked both ways... remembering that once his only qualifying criteria for a bottom was for a tight hole ready to be pounded open with his pussymaker - never mind looks or personality.
Now he was now meeting FF tops with similarly lax needs, who just seemed to want a hand-warmer for the night. Or guys who didn't understand his hole, who always seemed to be playing around the edges when he needed it deep (and vice-versa), who ignored any signal and who were in a headspace of their own. Of course, when he topped he also met life-less bottoms whose emotions were just as impenetrable as their holes.
He came to realise that fisting was not just an act of destruction but one of creation. And that real - mutual - goals could only be met if each party really `got' each other.
He realised that was the only way he would be able to reach his true obsession: Jacob. After all, Jacob's hunger and desires were so intense that Trent would really have to impress to capture his attention.
And so he went deep.
He used a goodly portion of his porn fortune to equip his house with a full-sized playroom, enough for a pig like Jake Hole to truly wallow in any fetish. He tried out a few scenes in his dungeon with some of his more extreme friends and everyone was impressed: Trent's dungeon was better equipped than the largest gay sex stores, let alone the biggest porn studios.
Trent then took a good, hard look at himself. Was he making the most of what he had? What could he do to make him more appealing to a hardcore fisting bottom, to really show that he cared?
He decided to have a wild progression of depth bands inked over the full-length of his arms. One arm methodically marked up like an obscene ruler, the other with thick and thin bands at intense intervals. During play Trent had discovered the powerful satisfaction that could be gained from hitting a new depth target... why not give both of them something to aim for?
He also underwent a slightly crazy genital beading operation to his mighty dick. Countless beads of different sizes were inserted between his skin and the muscles of his shaft. His dick permanently went from being a large and broadly smooth ride (well, except for his pronounced helmet and thick veins) to a bumpy and brutal mind-fuck. He knew that Jacob had spent years supersizing his cunt to proportions that probably made even Trent's big dick an easy fuck. He had to do something that would open Jacob's eyes, right? Even if that bought a tear to the eye...
His very last stop was seeking out cutting-edge supplements and hormones that would increase his cum production. The drugs cost a fortune and had some unfortunate side-effects, but the volume of his loads went through the roof. He was determined to be able to meet all of Jacob's needs, no matter how extreme the bottom's cum intake had become.
Deep down, he knew all of these were just shallow, surface characteristics though. It was how they all came together that mattered.
Trent found his chance at that year's FistFest - a yearly handballing event in the forests outside his home city. It was a big affair with a global reputation, and Trent wasn't all that surprised that a bottom like the infamous star Jake Hole was slated to attend. After all, the play was bound to be extreme. Trent had heard of disused army barracks with aisles of slings, fetid outhouses, night-time fires surrounded by countless fuck benches, and a crowd that rarely bothered with limits. He was going to have to be at the very top of his game.
Four hours in and Jacob was already feeling jaded. He'd lent his image to the organisers to advertise the festival (an admittedly hot photo of him showing his lubed and chapped arse, his inked and muscular upper torso turning back to the camera, a devilishly smile in his deep blue eyes) and promised to attend for the full weekend. But really? He shouldn't have come.
FistFest was always the same. He wandered the play spaces, seeing the same sights over and over again. Everyone was too interested in their own pleasure or constantly keeping one eye out for something better.
Previously Jacob would have happily been in the sling queue, waiting for a top to trash his hole. (In fact, the hole dysmorphia Jacob had been hypnotically programmed with years earlier made that inevitable... he had no idea how big his cunt truly was, just that it needed to be bigger, oh so much bigger...). But now he felt different urges and needs. Maybe he was even breaking the programming? He'd slowly realised the needs of his hole weren't the only game in town. It needed to be give and take, not just take, take and take.
Meanwhile, Trent wandered the barracks and pig-dorms with a very different perspective. For him, everything was new: a bunch of like-minded men gathered in one space to play, socialise and fuck. There were lodges to hire, dormitories to share and slings to rent by the quarter day.
He walked around unsure of himself, eyes wide at times, but totally focused on finding his target. To help his goal he was determined not to reveal his true identity to anyone there. He wore an executioner's style leather mask that covered half his face. Disguising his cock had been more difficult though... it was so big that finding gear that hid rather than enhanced was tough. This wasn't fake modesty on Trent's part: his cock was one of his most identifiable features, as distinctive as a cleft lip or a silicon-enhanced ball sack that stretched to the knees... he had to hide it though as he wanted his new beading to be a surprise when the big reveal finally came. To this end, Trent had settled on a leather kilt - the thick black folds of animal skin seductively hiding his meat, even whilst still giving his dick plenty of room to grow down his thighs. Of course, his new tattoos (unknown to any of his porn acolytes) and re-sculptured body went a long way to hide any semblance of his old life too.
Feeling sure he was unrecognisable, Trent wandered the play spaces looking for Jacob. Every bottom, every gaping snatch and pulsating pussy lip got his careful appraisal: was that guy in the sling the man he was looking for? To his surprise though he caught sight of `his' boy not taking part in the action at all.
No, his boy was standing to one side, leaning against the wooden walls of the barracks with an air of resignation. Yes, he was chapped and booted, dressed for action, but distant from it all - as if nothing new was to be found here. Trent found Jacob's reticence more horny than he ever could have possibly believed. He felt his dick swelling and hoped to god that no-one would see the heavy trail of dickslime he was now openly leaking onto the floorboards below.
It was time to move in.
Trent walked across the room with confidence, ignoring the slings, moaning bottoms and performing tops. He moved with such determination that Jacob could no be in doubt that he was in this man's sights. Jake Hole took in the total package in one glance. He saw heavy boots, then thick and hairy calves that lead up to a heavy and bulbous kilt (what was that leather hiding he wondered?!). Then there was a hard abdomen, hairy and broad pecs, before a strong face covered by that hot and sculptured leather mask.
However, there was much more going on than just the physical. There was a determination, like he was prey to be hunted. Jacob felt the hairs on his neck rise, his skin goose-pimple and his desires fully awaken. Sure, he'd seen many hot guys that day, but none with quite so much intensity. And those tattooed arm bands? Anyone who had the mendacity to permanently ink their wrists, forearms and biceps - to turn their arms into depth and tide markers - had to be a skilled and generous lover, right?
The two eagerly made contact.
They kissed, one of Trent's hands tenderly finding Jacob's jawline and the other firmly cupping Jacob's meaty arse. Trent had been waiting for this moment for so long that his passion was extreme. Meanwhile Jacob - not realising their long-history and connection - experienced a freshness that couldn't be ignored. The fact this man was anonymous made it all the hotter.
It was time for Jacob to make use of the biggest perk the organisers had given him: a private sling. No bystanders, just fully equipped with never ending supplies. Jacob led his hunter to his reserved space, every step a dialogue between the two, exploring their ffucklust and boundaries. Was it possible that Trent was tweaking the lips of Jacob's giant cunt before they got to the private sling? Who will ever know? The foreplay was enthusiastic and free-wheeling...
It wasn't long before the chapped and muscled bottom was spread in his sling. Both top and bottom took a moment to take it all in. Trent saw every detail. How Jacob's body had changed over the years since they'd first disastrously played together. He saw Jacob's formerly flawless skin and body, now worn from his porn antics and made muscular from his gym work. The piercing blue eyes were the same but no longer innocent or naive, just hungry with desire.
Above all, Trent saw the open gash between Jacob's legs. It was a stunning display of cunt control: Jake's pussy blossomed in front of his very eyes. It went from perfect trench to magnificent and juicy rosebud in seconds. It begged to be explored... just as the thick and undulating cunt lips surrounding it begged for attention too. Jacob knew that some tops found his hole overwhelming - they simply didn't know how to feed its hunger - but others found it an open invitation to fulfil their darkest and deepest fantasies. He wondered just how this top would turn out.
Not able to hold back was the answer!
From the first moment Jacob felt the anonymous top's thick fingers in his ass he knew he was onto something special. That this top truly understood big hole, seamlessly interpreting the weaknesses of his pussy whilst capitalising on its strengths. The dynamic between the two was intense, each able to understand the other's signals, knowing when to push and when to hold back.
The moment of real truth came when the mysterious top told Jacob that he thought he could do better' and why the fuck was he holding back and not showing his pussy's real potential?' Trent's long standing pent-up lust and desire for Jacob were overflowing: his passion was on full display. He sensed Jake could take more - wanted more - and so he would.
The top's demands made Jacob look at the determined man who had taken ownership of his cunt with new eyes. Even behind the leather mask Jacob could see the top's disparaging glances at the lowly tide mark on his arms. The message was clear: if you want more of my fists then you need to make it happen. Who cares that you're still inches away from the next tattooed band: that's your target.
Jacob became a bottom possessed - there was no way he wan't going to show off his true abilities in front of this muscular hole wrecker. He concentrated his entire being on his cunt, using his body weight to force his way further onto the leathered top's arms, using every sinew of his mind to open his pussy up. Life shrunk to this singular moment in time: taking his cunt to that next impossible band and the next stage of its development.
Of course, he succeeded.
Jake wanted to make his cunt destroyer proud, to live up to the man's obvious expectations of what was possible. He would show this bastard what a real bottom was capable of.
Minutes... hours... a lifetime later... and both men were spent. It had been anything but play by numbers. This had been play by-fucked-up-tangled-and-twisted-symbolism... Trent's hunger as his fist hollowed out his lifetime's desire for the first time was extreme. He had felt the hollowness inside of Jacob and became determined to fill it with his own life-force.
For Jacob though? Have you ever taken your cunt beyond its limits? Most guys haven't. They feel their holes approach that line and quickly retreat. Not Jacob though... he let himself be broached forever. In a flash he thought back to all the men who had felt his lingering clutch and who had then stepped back from the brink. Men who hadn't helped him over the edge, men without purpose or real desire. This was different. Jacob felt more complete than ever before. Satisfied, sated and yet still wanting a hole lot more...
The two men retreated to Trent's lodge, escaping the meaningless and distracting background noises of impersonal rutting. They walked out in the open - sweaty, exhausted and not caring as to how they looked. Trent's arms had very obvious tide marks revealing just how far Jacob's cunt had been destroyed, though anyone watching Jacob waddle and leak ass juices would have been able to guess that for themselves.
Both were walking on clouds, Jacob from the expansion in his cunt, Trent from finally hooking up with the man of his obsessions. Both were hungry for more, but remarkably for Jacob that manifested itself in a desire for good, old-fashioned vanilla sex. That need was something he hadn't felt for a very long time... the lust for a dick slamming into his arse in the age old way. To feel a body against him and holding him tight. The intimacy was there for the taking.
Inside the lodge Trent felt his nerves rising. He desperately wanted more of Jacob but he knew their history had to be out at some point. How would this crazy fist bottom react to the truth? Spurn him or embrace him? There was only one way of finding out...
Trent flung the bottom backwards onto the giant bed, Jacob instinctively separating and raising his legs to provide the top good access. Trent looked at Jacob's gash one more time in awe - it looked even more inviting for the hours of work. He had to have it. Obeying his desires, he pushed apart Jacob's muscular and leather-clad thighs, diving down to bury his tongue in the ravaged and juicy slot. The bottom's toes curled back in ecstasy - after the long and hard session he'd just endured the feeling of this man's tongue was paradise - it explored every fold and juicy layer with an eagerness he hadn't felt in a long time. Man, this top was a pig!
Trent knew this was the moment. Jacob was so distracted by the tongue mashed into his trashed hole that he could pull the leather face mask off without it immediately being a big deal. In fact, Jacob's eyes were gazing up to the ceiling in rapture so it took a long while before the bottom realised the top had revealed himself and was someone he knew...
"Fuck me! It can't be! Trent-fucking-Hardacre!" he cried.
He seemed to be in such shock that Trent had no idea whether this was good or bad news. He started to pull his salvia and lube drenched mouth back to start talking, but Jacob wasn't having any of it - both of the bottom's hands took hold of the top's head to bury the roaming tongue even deeper into his crack!
"Man alive, you're the last fucking guy I expected to be eating me out! You have got some serious-- fucking-- game--" he tried to say... but the sensations of Trent drilling into his cunt were simply too much. He could feel a pussygasm coming over him in waves, expanding outwards from his hole in exquisite tremors of pleasure. He forced Trent even deeper, prolonging the ecstasy for as long as possible.
Finally, long after, the aftershocks came to an end and Trent was released. He pulled back with a wicked and expectant grin on his face: he knew he'd done a damn fine job - the sound and sights of Jacob cumming almost sending him over the edge too. He stood up, letting the bottom come round to the side of the bed and back to the present in his own pace.
In a moment of calmness, Trent explained why he was there: that he'd been infatuated with the bottom since before they'd first met all those years ago. That he had wanted Jacob for ages but had seen the bottom move further and further away... that he'd been fearful to follow. But his lust had simply gotten too great and now here he was, a changed man with some new skills to his name.
Jacob marvelled at how far Trent's hunger had taken him. But even so... sure, that had been a remarkable rim job and an amazing fisting but Trent had always struck him as a selfish shag. Yes, he could see the tattoos, the gear and the stoked body, but had he really changed?
"Let me do my best to prove it to you" said Trent with confidence, standing up. "Back there in the sling you said you wanted me to fuck you. How about it?"
Trent could see both uncertainty and heat in Jacob's eyes. He knew he had to play his cards right. Not waiting for answer, he released the folds of his leather kilt and threw it to one side. To say the grand reveal caught Jacob's attention was an understatement... Trent had a gigantic dick: 12" long and a punishing 3" thick shaft that never gave up, but it was the new and gnarly beads along his shaft that really caught the eye.
Neither one needed any more invitation. Jacob was on all fours quicker than a jack rabbit whilst Trent worked his glistening dickslop along the length of his thick shaft.
"Ready, cunt? This fucker is ribbed for your pleasure!" he laughed, pressing his mighty helmet against Jacob's pulsating rosebud.
"Stop teasing and fuck, you bastard!" shouted Jacob.
Trent powered forward, every inch of his beaded cock slamming doggy-style into the hot bottom. The operation to insert countless beads between the meat of his shaft and his skin had been long and arduous, but Jacob's cries made it all worthwhile. Jake had often wondered whether he'd ever get true pleasure from being fucked again; his hole was that big and sloppy. But this meat was delightfully proving him wrong: his hole was wracked with amazing sensations.
As Trent started a good fuck rhythm something else came over the two of them. For all the brutality of Trent's cock, there was intimacy and tenderness there. A shared connection - from Trent's crotch slamming into Jacob's muscular arse cheeks to the way Trent's hands roamed across Jacob's broad shoulders and body...
Soon the bottom had been flipped onto his back, allowing the two to see into each other's eyes. Jacob could tell that Trent was rising to climax but no! He wanted, needed to taste this man's cum! He called out, begging the top to oblige, his instincts telling him the Trent he knew wouldn't stop for an instant and he'd simply unload deep inside of him, wasting that precious load. Man, did he need to swallow this man's spunk though!
To his everlasting pleasure and surprise, Trent pulled out of the hungry cunt, wanking his erection to keep his orgasm just on the brink. In seconds he was straddling the bottom's chest and pointing his giant dick straight into Jacob's open face, ass to mouth, just the way Jake Hole liked it.
Now it was the turn of Jacob's tongue to be a revelation, virtually inhaling the first few inches of Trent's big meat. Such eagerness to savour the flavour! That was all it took - the object of his desire consuming his meat - for Trent to fully release.
It was an epic orgasm. The pent-up lust of so many years, but also the result of industrial doses of cum producing hormones. When Trent unloaded, he unloaded! Jacob felt the spunk threatening to overflow his month and it was only his years of cum-sucking practice that meant he managed to swallow it all. Jesus, there was so much, and still coming! He reached down to pull his own dick, the taste of spunk taking him over the edge and-- boom!
The massive eruption of Trent's cum delivered in spades. For years Jacob had been programmed to need high volumes of cum to orgasm himself. 25 suck jobs was the going rate to unlock his own spunk shot. However, Trent had managed it in one. Fucking hell, he was falling in love!
Stunned at their emotions - surprise, shock, expectation defying, overflowing lust - the two laid back on the sweat drenched and rumpled bed. Jacob laid his head on Trent's chest and did something he hadn't done in a long time: cuddled up. He was feeling things he couldn't explain, and Trent was wise enough to let Jacob process it without trying to rationalise it for him. They held each other... and minutes (or hours later, who knew?) Trent felt Jacob stir. The bottom lifted his head off Trent's fur and looked deep into the top's eyes.
"I want to fist you."
Next: Their union is ffinally complete...
Comments and suggestions welcome at stuhadley77@gmail.com
My other stories:
https://www.nifty.org/nifty/gay/authoritarian/the-curse-of-troy-fletcher/ https://www.nifty.org/nifty/gay/authoritarian/the-first-hand-school/ https://www.nifty.org/nifty/gay/authoritarian/the-reintegration-centre/ https://www.nifty.org/nifty/gay/sf-fantasy/the-wish