If you've made it this far and don't know you're about to read gay erotica, then you must be the most naive Christian on the planet, or just plain stupid.
Figure it out.
A summary:
Paul, the 6' 3" dark-haired quarter back was seduced by his coach, Coach Simons, a hairy chested 6 ft, barrel-chested, muscled stud, who fingered Paul's ass for an enema, then shoved his dick up Paul's virgin ass to hold the enema in there.
Paul's making the annual rounds of Halloween trick-or-treat donations for the football team and his costume is Tarzan. To keep the costume clean, the coach administered an enema, then put a cock cage on the boy to keep fluids off it. His first donation is from Mr. Struthers, a blonde, burly farmer, who shoved a dick down his throat, then had Paul eat his burly ass. Paul made little progress when a police officer, Thomas Skincaid, a former water boy, fucked Paul on his father's truck hood. Paul next met Stan Cavale, a muscled and smooth man, and Royal, a sweaty, toned, light brown-haired kinky guy with an 11-inch dick. The pair used Paul, and sent him to the next house dressed as a dog. At the next stop, Paul got done doggie style while sucking the married dick of Mr. Barriston, a man who reminded Paul of Tom Selleck. Paul enjoyed the married man at a party attended by 100 football donors. What Paul didn't know was he and the attorney were being watched while Paul was used through a 2-way mirror.
Now, Paul, dressed as a dog with a tail shoved up his quarterback shithole, is headed to his last house to pick up a donation. Paul looks at the last stop on the list and realizes it's just an address, no name. Paul's cock is ready to blow, but he knows instinctively that he can't. He's had dicks down his throat, up his ass, he's eaten ass, he's swallowed, he's been used for men's pleasure. Paul thinks about what he's done. In just a few hours, he went from being a virgin into being a sex toy for men, and he's enjoyed it. The men turn Paul on. Older, some hairy, some muscular, some not, some smooth, all really not concerned with Paul's pleasure. Paul considers skipping the last stop. All the men have hinted that something more awaits him at the last stop: "See you later". Paul guides his father's pick up truck into the lane to "Treyback Manor".
Treyback Manor is an old country mansion, but over the last few years, has been converted into a resort spot. The resort was owned by Michael Treyback, a young guy, barely 23 years old, as far as Paul had heard.
The rumors swirled around Treyback Manor when it first opened. Drunken orgies, week-long parties, all sorts of things the churches were preaching against, until he plunked down a HUGE donation to the local school. The rumors didn't end, but the sermons did.
Treyback brought a lot of out-of-towners to the area, having huge parties. Those attending usually had money and dropped lots of it in the area.
Michael Treyback was a different sort. He was 6'1", lanky, redheaded, almost having the appearance of a junior high student who still had to grow into his looks. "Gawky" was a word Paul had heard someone describe Michael as.
The lane to the Manor was long.
Paul could see lights on in several windows, from the first floor to the gabled windows of the fourth floor.
Cars and trucks were along the sides of the lane almost as soon as Paul pulled into it, but he kept driving. He was, after all, expected. Paul wasn't sure what to expect, except that he would be used, humiliated, and treated to dicks down his throat, in his hands, and up his ass. He was now a sex toy for men.
He still was having a hard time accepting that he had little choice in the matter. A tear ran down his left cheek as he parked the truck outside the double front doors and walked up the stone stairs that lead to those huge doors.
Paul paused before pushing the doorbell. He heard the grand chimes as they toned, signaling his arrival.
He held his head up as he waited. He wasn't sure exactly what was in store. The doors swung open wide and Paul saw blackness beyond.
"Enter," commanded a deep voice.
Paul walked forward, confident, but with anticipation. He stepped into the darkness.
Coach Simons sat naked on the velvet coach, 2 fingers stuffed up Stan Cavale's smooth ass.
"So you liked the boy's butt?" he asked Cavale.
"Yeah, I'm looking forward to a piece when he gets here," the engineer said. "Pop another finger in my ass, Coach."
Across the room was office Thomas Skincaid, who was bent over bench and getting fucked by Randall Dicer, a farmer from the next county. Dicer was a short plug of a man, 5'5", 220 with bugling muscles and a 6-inch cock that made beer cans blush with shame. The dark haired farmer had a hairy chest, but there was barely a treasurer trail that lead down to his obviously shaved crotch. The farmer was pumping Skincaid's hairy ass hard, forcing grunts and whimpers from the waterboy turned policeman.
"Fuck, yer as good tonight as you were a few years ago," Dicer said, smacking Skincaid's left ass cheek.
"Harder, Randall. I know you can," Skincaid commanded, backing up on the fireplug dick.
Michael Treyback was naked like the rest of his dozen or so guests, but he was busy plugging wire and cable in the back of a large screen TV. It was a custom television that was large enough to show people in their real size.
He'd just hung up the phone with Mr. Barriston and received the transmission.
The party had started an hour or 2 ago; Michael didn't really keep track of time. The point was for his guests to enjoy themselves. Thomas Skincaid had shown up unexpectedly, much to the delight of everyone, especially when the now-burly water boy had walked through the door with his uniform shirt unbuttoned down to the crotch, and his dick and balls swinging free from the zipper.
Coach Simons had jumped him first, swallowing him whole, popping up for only a second to say, "Hm, tastes like ass", then diving back down.
Other guests had arrived, stripped, and paired or tripled off, finger fucking, eating ass, fucking, sucking, spanking, nip play, everything.
Michael looked around; his guests were fucks and fuckers. Burly men, smooth men, hairy men, thin, muscled, couple of paunches, handsome, plain, cute, rugged, even one butt ugly. All into man-on-man sex, all playing until the "new" boy arrived.
Michael smiled. The mayor was on his back, eating the ass of a mechanic while Royal shoved 3 fingers up the mayor's shitter while the mechanic sucked Royal's 11 inches, totally!
Michael ran a test of the entertainment equipment to make sure it was working. He didn't want any surprises when the doggie-dressed quarterback arrived.
The mansion's chimed rang, signaling another had arrived. Michael was sure it was the guest of honor. Everyone but Mr. Barriston was here; the attorney had said he'd try to make it, but promised nothing.
The stable man doubled as Treyback Manor's greeter. Augustus opened the doors wide and said, "Enter" to the quarterback dressed as a dog.
Paul walked into the darkened entry and followed Augustus.
In Michael's play room, with the entertainment center ready to go, the men line up. Royal, Stan, the mechanic, mayor, Coach Simons, Mr. Struther, office Skincaid, Dicer, a couple more farmers, an accountant, florist, and Archer McRath, a welder whose face was scared by an accident.
The naked guests had pulled themselves off each other and were standing, lying, sitting in the play room, a huge room with the larger television, leather couches and chairs, a sex bench, and Michael's private St. Anderws, only used by friends. Guests could not pay to use it. Tonight's partiers would also not be using it.
Michael started the entertainment on the television, with the sound off, as Paul entered the room through a door on the same wall as the television. Paul could not see it.
"Gentlemen, I give you our dog for the evening," Augustus said, attaching a leash to the collar around Paul's neck.
Paul looked from face to face of the men in the room. He knew them all; public officials, businessmen, farmers, fans in the stands, and men who'd broken him in for tonight.
"I'm Michael Treyback," Michael introduced himself. "I hear you're a good dog."
Paul faced the redhead, "yes, sir."
"Then get on all 4s and suck me, quarterback dog."
Paul was on all 4s before anyone could blink, sucking down the Manor's owner's 7-inch, uncut cock.
The dog quarterback was sucking Michael in front of the television and the mayor was gulping down a whiskey when he saw the scene on the TV and spit the whiskey out! He was viewing Paul being used at his last stop, on the 4-poster bed at Ms. Cunningham's!
"Holy shit!" the mechanic gasped.
Augustus pulled Paul's tail from his moist, warm pucker and Michael walked around Paul, shoving his cock up the quarterback's hole.
Paul glimpsed the television and his jaw dropped.
"When the fuck did they video me!!!" his mind reeled.
He'd find out later that the full-length mirror in that bedroom had a camera behind it.
"Bark for us, dog boy," Michael said, thrusting his dick deep in the football endzone.
"WOOF!! WOOF!!" Paul barked.
The accountant, Paul's father's accountant, stepped up to Paul's mouth. His dick curved up from his crotch, looking like an obscene coat hook that Paul draped his face on.
Paul immediately tasted precum which leaked like a faucet from the accountant. The curved angle of the counter's cock was a challenge for Paul in this position. It hit the top of his mouth more than sliding down his throat.
Paul would change that position as the night went along, and all the men took a turn on his mouth and ass, chewing his nips and petting his cock, which was leaking a LOT of precum.
Loads streamed down Paul's throat and up his ass, on his back, on his face, in his fair. Paul was suckling on the welder's uncut 6.5 incher when Coach Simons spread the boy's ass cheeks and started eating Paul's ass for the first time since the quarterback arrived at Treyback.
The Coach was eating loads of cum from the quarterback's ass and reached under the quarterback's abs and started milking his cock like a cow.
"He looks better out of uniform" the welder grunted, dumping a load down Paul's throat.
The coach stood and licked his lips.
"Stand up on yer feet, doggie boy," Michael said.
Paul stood in front of the men. Cum streamed from his shitter, off his face and all over his body.
He'd been left in costume, not allowed to cum for at least 3 hours since he'd arrived at Treyback Manor.
"Paul, have you enjoyed being used tonight, son?" the coach asked.
Paul paused a second before answering, clearing his cum-slicked throat and said, "Yes, sirs. Thanks for introducing me to sex, sirs."
"We kept you from cumming all night, boy," Mr. Struthers said. "At this point of the evening, you get your treat."
"You obviously like getting fucked," the mechanic said.
"Sucking dick," the mayor said.
"Eating shit holes," Royal said.
"So your treat is you get to pick one of us," Augustus said.
"To fuck," Stan said.
Paul looked around the room.
All the men, all of them has turned their backs to Paul and bent over, reaching back and spreading their cheeks.
Except Michael.
"You've eaten each of these asses tonight, Paul. Now, you get to choose which ass yer going to fuck," Michael said, then instinctively asked, "Paul, have you ever fucked before?"
Paul turned beet red, head to toe. Paul wasn't just a virgin to man-to-man sex. He was a virgin, period. He talked the macho talk, but his dick hadn't been anywhere but his hand.
"Yes, sir. I'm a total virgin, sir. Or I was," he grinned.
Paul looked at the buffet of asses before him.
Smooth and hairy asses, wrinkled and smooth puckers, all were before Paul.
But one caught his eye. The hairy men had appealed to Paul. And the hairy asses were getting his eye, most. He stepped toward one and pulled a saliva slick finger from his mouth and slid it into the ready ass.
Coach Simons sighed. He was content. Paul had made the decision none of the other players had made.
Him.
Paul slipped his finger from the coach's hair shit chute and placed his throbbing, precum slick cock at the coach's hairy opening.
When he hesitated, the coach impaled himself on the quarterback's cock.
Paul shot when his balls bounced off the coach's hairy ass cheeks. He held it in and dumped. When he was done, he pulled out and Royal shoved the boy's face into the coach's ass.
"Clean him out, dog," Royal said.
Paul did.
He feel asleep in the middle of a mass of men, content.
What did the future hold for Paul?
Who knew.
Men, thanks for the kind words. This story line is concluded, such as it is.
I do plan other stories, but Paul's is done for a while. If I add to it, it will not be part of this series.