In Defiance, Deference, and Servitude to Others
by Xanderboy
DEFIANCE
Universally speaking, cocky jocks rate somewhere below Republicans on
the karmic totem pole. The universe likes to share, like a huge cosmic
buffet that we are all eating at and everyone wants a pot sticker. So
the prick that grabs the last ten on his plate and won’t give any of them
up isn’t going to be getting any good karma cred.
Bruce Summers was that guy. Perfectly tall and muscled, strawberry
blond hair, blue eyes, he was used to having everything handed to him from
birth. He never really had to struggle much to get things in life, and
he liked it that way. He always kept a harem of admirers around him, at
first the cheerleaders and such in school, then a montage of girls in
college. He even started letting one or two of those leery fags around
him, y’know, as long as they weren’t too faggy. They often did have
some great connections he would use, and they always knew where to find
the best pot. Finally, he graduated to a nicely consistent stable of
women at work, in his social life, and even a neighbor or two who would
feed him pretty regularly. Bruce couldn’t even conceive of having to do
all of these things these people did for him on his own. Why should he?
These were often all people who were sadder or uglier or (most often)
fatter than he was, so it’s not like they weren’t getting anything out of
hanging out with him! If anything, he was getting gypped. Sometimes he
really had to work for the free meal or blowjob, bitches just didn’t
know how to put out what he wanted and get on with it already. That was
just how women were, though.
Walking to his friend’s house he considered his options for the night.
He knew there would be plenty of beer and hooch at the party, so he had
his bases covered there. But he was more than a little horny; some mid
or post party action wouldn’t be totally unwarranted. He started
running through the list of girls who would be there for the least resistant
to giving him head.
“BRUCE!” a large, similarly muscled jock yelled while opening the front
door.
“HEY! ALPHA! PHETA! KAPPA DOGS, GO!” they chanted together.
“What’s up, Kyle?” Bruce greeted, coolly reaching his hand out to
Kyle’s.
“Not much, dude, except the party can finally start now. Want some
Jager?” Kyle shut the door behind Bruce .
“Sure, man. How’s the chick scene tonight?” Bruce inquired.
“It’s okay, but Brittney’s not here tonight,” Kyle grinned while
leading Bruce through the house. “Looking for some action, bro?”
“You know I always am!” Bruce laughed back. “Can’t get enough bitches
for this meat.”
“I hear that,” Kyle said before sipping his beer.
“Yeah, I think I need some bitch to worship my cock tonight,” Bruce
sighed while pumping the keg. “It’s been awhile. Like a day or two.” Bruce
chuckled, put the keg handle down, and glanced around the room.
“You wanna do a line, bro?” Kyle hit Bruce on the arm.
“Not yet, dude, I wanna check out the babes first,” Bruce decided.
“A’ight, I’ll be in my room,” Kyle exited. “Hoo RAH!”
Bruce glanced around the party, finding a couple women to his liking.
While pondering who on earth let the fag in the corner into the party,
he headed over to the freshest meat there. “Hey, I’m Bruce,” he greeted.
“How you doin’?”
The girl instantly giggled.
“Hi, wow, thanks for talking to me,” she perked up. “I’m kinda, like,
new in the area, and I don’t know many people here. My friend Lindsey
brought me, and now I can’t find her. Oh my gosh, I’m Candy, by the way!”
“That you are. That you are indeed. Well, I can definitely show you
what to do here,” Bruce insinuated, leaning closer to the girl, ready to
move in for the kill.
*******
Bruce shouted, as always, while he came in the girl’s mouth. He was
always so silent right up until the moment and then, bam! It hit him with
full force, almost sneaking up on him by surprise. It, apparently, had
surprised Candy as well, as both her eyes at the moment and choking
afterwards attested to.
“You could have warned me,” she complained once she had regained her
breath.
“Why are you still here?” Bruce shot back. “I’m done with you now.”
Candy, looking horrified and shooting daggers at Bruce, wiped off her
mouth, picked up her heels, and stormed out of the room. “Asshole!” she
yelled at him on her way out.
Bruce sighed contently and headed to the bathroom to clean up. Washing
his hands off in the sink he winked at his reflection. Suddenly, a man
walked into the bathroom from the other door. Bruce pulled his pants
up, trying to cover his unbuckled, semi-undone groin area. The intruder,
however, had gone right for it with his eyes and was even grinning
somewhat it seemed.
“Fucking faggot, what are you, cruising the bathroom for a chance to
check out a real man?!” Bruce shoved the guy back through the door, and
hard. He looked confused and hurt before Bruce also slammed the door
shut.
“Fuckin fags….,” Bruce whined. He fixed his underwear and belt, checked
himself out in the mirror to make sure his hair was still perfect, and
walked out the other door.
******
It was at this point the universe had finally had enough. Using women
constantly was enough, and adding on rudely shoving a (not in the
slightest bit gay) cancer researcher and head of a charity foundation was
apparently where the straw that broke the universe’s back. And Bruce
Summers was now finally going to have to cash in his karma. And he
undoubtedly would not like his cash prize.
******
In his dream, Bruce was nearly naked. He was wearing some kind of
extremely tight and uncomfortable shorts (What is that material? Bruce
wondered. It hurts but feels so good…). He was on his knees, and as he
slowly took in the measure of his surroundings he also realized he was
squirming about while getting jacked off.
“Is this a dream? This all feels so real,” Bruce mumbled.
“Quiet, boy,” a voice commanded. Bruce suddenly realized he was
kneeling in front of a man in full leather gear, from head to toe. He wore a
black rimmed leather cap, a leather harness, leather chaps, leather
bands around his shoulder and hands, and leather boots. He was a bald,
muscled, sweaty man who clearly knew how to take control. Bruce was
kneeling in front of him while the man was jacking him off and talking to him.
Bruce wasn’t really taking any of it in, though, as he was still very
confused about what was going on. Something really did not feel right
to him.
And yet clearly something felt very right to Bruce, for he was rapidly
approaching orgasm, even in his confused state. He started to moan
louder and louder, his knees buckling. He was looking up at the man in
front of him and somehow it was only making him harder. It felt right to
Bruce, in that moment, for this man to be having his way with him. Mostly
right, anyway, as part of him thought it was wrong.
But the important part came all over the floor, and quickly lapped it
up when ordered to. “What is going on here?” Bruce asked as he looked up
from eating his cum, which was one of the best things he had ever
tasted.
“You don’t need to know that, boy, and you won’t,” the man answered.
“Not until the end anyway, but don’t worry. It’ll happen quickly. Just
let it happen, and you’ll have all the more fun.” The man was grabbing
his cock and pulling it out. He grabbed Bruce and started pushing him
down toward it. “And it’ll begin tomorrow, boy. Now get on this.”
Bruce’s mind started fading away slowly as he knelt over towards the
man’s cock, suddenly ravenous for it. As he drift away he marveled at how
wonderful it tasted and how right this all felt. And slowly, the
universe’s revenge began……
In Defiance, Deference, and Servitude to Others Part 2
DEFERENCE
By Xanderboy
Bruce woke up and felt amazing. The sun was shining, he felt
awake and buzzing, if there were any damn furry woodland creatures around
they’d have been singing and chit-chatting away. He felt so on top of
the world today.
“Damn, that bitch must have been just what I needed,” he muttered out
loud. “Woh, guess I needed a replay!” Bruce’s hands found the cum
stain in front of his shorts.
“I’ve just got too much manly seed for one bitch!” Bruce laughed as he
sauntered into his family room. He felt so alive with energy he felt
the need to do something. He decided a run would be the best idea, but
first he’d need his Ipod from his car.
Bruce ran out to his car, ignoring his half nudity and cum stained
boxers as he was too focused on spending this energy. He also did not
notice two of his apartment complex neighbors smoking cigarettes in front
of their place a couple doors down.
“Damn, I wish that boy’d dress in tight revealing clothes like that all
the time!” one of them commented.
“You said it,” the other replied. “I’d sure as shit visit you more
often then!”
“Bitch!”
Bruce grabbed his Ipod and suddenly felt driven to go into his house
and change his clothes. After all, he needed to be ready to jog today!
He grabbed a large pair of Adidas shorts and a comfy old T-shirt (never
being one to show up much while working out around town, at the gym
was one thing when hot chicks were around, but there were too many fags
around town, he didn’t want to give them a show).
However, when Bruce walked out of his door, he had on an extremely
tight pair of Under Armour black briefs which left nothing whatsoever to
the imagination, and no top at all.
“Damn, ask and ye shall receive,” Bruce’s stereotypical neighbor
exhaled.
“You said it, queen,” his friend replied.
And the universe snickered right along with them.
******
After jogging Bruce did not know what to do with himself. He had the
day off, and still had all this energy. Maybe he needed to get high.
That would definitely calm him down some, plus, it wasn’t like he had to
do anything today. Heading out to get high, maybe grab some yummy
food later, hit up a bar; suddenly his day unraveled in front of him like
a slinky falling down the stairs.
So he called one of his stable of fags who he let appreciate him
(visually, of course, and only from afar, nothing gay, really), asking if
they could get him any pot.
“Bitch, I ain’t heard from you in weeks, and now you suddenly expecting
me to deliver? Whatever!” the fag bitched out Bruce.
“Dude, I’m dieing here, and you won’t even have to come to me this
time! I’ll come to your place in…..uh, where do you live again?” Bruce
begged, suddenly overwhelmed with the need to follow his slinky plan.
“Downtown, bitch, by Ramrod! You know, you borrowed my TV once? The
one I never saw again?” the fag ranted.
“Ramrod? That fucking fag leather bar? Whatever, man, can I just get
some pot or not, Bob? I’ll owe you one.” Bruce pleaded.
“Owe me one, you owe me one already. You owe me enough where you
should be coming into that fag leather bar and doing whatever I want! But,
fine, I need the money anyway, you can come over in half an hour.” Bob
gave in, planning on way overcharging him.
“Thank you so much, dude,” Bruce said. “I’ll be there!”
“I’d like to see you in here, in leathers and begging like you should
be, bitch,” Bob muttered while he hung up the phone, thinking no one was
listening.
The thing is, someone’s always listening. Just ask any celebrity
that.
******
Bruce sauntered into Bob’s apartment in his usual jockboy gait. He sat
down and glared at Bob in his usual bored, I’m-just-here-to-use-you
way. And he brought his wallet right out in an effort to hurry along
business like always.
However, this time, he was decked out in leather shorts, a leather
harness, leather wrist bracelets, leather boots, and a leather collar, with
a tight fitting leather jacket on top. He was a perfect, muscled,
tight vision in leather.
“Very fucking funny, Bruce,” Bob yelled.
“What are you talking about?” Bruce shot back. “Can I just get my
pot?”
“Sure, once you get on your knees and beg for it like the horny leather
boy you APPARENTLY are!” Bob shouted back, clearly losing his
patience.
“Okay,” Bruce shrugged. He got right off the chair and onto his knees,
looking up at Bob, and pleading with his hands up in the air.
“Please, sir, may I get my pot?”
Bob was too stunned to continue being pissed, and couldn’t help but be
a little turned on by this situation. Plus, he never even imagined
Bruce would ever do anything like this. Was he getting Punked or
something?
“I’ll do anything, sir,” Bruce said, suddenly seeming like he was in a
daze.
“Stand up,” Bob tested, half expecting at any second a camera crew to
jump out, or just for Bruce to deck him.
“Yes, sir,” Bruce answer, unflinching and unchanged. He stood right
up, never breaking
his gaze from Bob’s. Bob didn’t even think he’d ever looked him in the
eyes this long.
“Kiss me,” Bob ordered. And Bruce leaned over (was Ashton Kutcher
coming through Bob’s door?), walked a step closer to finish off the
distance (any arms being raised up defiantly?), and kissed Bob, full on the
lips.
Bob was floored. Here was the walking king stereotype of macho jock
guys. Maybe it really was true what they said about all homophobic
guys……Bob couldn’t even think for a moment, as all of the possibilities of a
leather covered Bruce hit him at once.
But he certainly knew where to start.
“Get on your knees, bitch!”
******
Bruce walked out of Bob’s place hours later, slightly sore, wiping cum
from his mouth, and utterly unsure of why he had done anything he just
did. He didn’t enjoy any of it, it was completely unlike him, and yet,
he did it without hesitation. Would he do the same again? Was he gay
now that someone came on him and fucked him up the ass? What the hell
was happening to him? He walked past a couple of houses and then
forgot about walking entirely, he was so confused and scared.
He kept thinking over the long list of things he and Bob has just
done. Where all of those things even, like, legal?! And suddenly, trying
to come to grips with all this, he realized he was covered in leather.
Where the hell did these clothes come from? What the fuck was going
on?! And why, above all else, was his cock suddenly hard?
Bruce was so confused; he did not know a lot of things. Like, for
example, the fact that the clock and date had changed, or that, on a fine,
fair weekend night like tonight, the leather bar was jam packed to the
filling, and many of it’s customers were out enjoying a smoke (cock or
otherwise) and a boy in the yard. He also knew nothing of the universe
and it’s many tricks and schemes. Or that he was about to enter into
his third and final stage of universal revenge.
“Hey, boy!” some random voice yelled from the bar across the street.
Bruce immediately turned around and responded.
“Yes, sir?” Bruce inquired, suddenly getting harder (and he was aware
of it, and while most of him was scared, a growing part of him was
loving this).
“Get over here, boy, my cock needs attention now!” the voice
commanded.
“Absolutely, sir!” Bruce squealed, suddenly overfilled with lust and
glee. He ran towards the voice, suddenly so hot and hard, and it felt so
good. Fuck all that other stuff he was worried about, it was time to
have some fun!
While once again, the universe chuckled.
And maybe touched itself a bit, too.
SERVITUDE
In Defiance, Deference, and Servitude to Others Part 3
By Xanderboy
Tight, sweaty muscles encased in leather. A hand on his head.
Drool escaping from the corners of his mouth as he vigorously sucked.
Dirtiness upon dirtiness only making it hotter. A burning need boiling
up from within, forcing his body to move, his mouth to work, his mind
to degenerate, his needs to the forefront. Cock. Leather.
Muscle. Naked. Manliness.
Bruce blinked and refocused his attention, his mind having wandered
off, and suddenly felt an increased rush of awareness. Why was he
standing in front of this bar? Why would he even come to this bar?! Then he
let his physical body catch up with him. The tight, constricting
material that constantly lit his body and desires afire. His hard (what?)
cock barely held back in his tight shorts. His submissive gaze and
posture to this large, burly, hairy stranger he had just met in front of
him. He felt so lost and confused, so alienated and wrong, and yet so
incredibly, blissfully right. Whether he wanted to admit it or not, he
wanted this. With each passing second, he wanted it and accepted it
more and more. He did feel almost supernaturally connected. Like this
was his destiny, like it was meant to be almost.
Bruce shook his head again. No, he thought, surely this wasn’t right!
He had never imagined or wanted anything like this! He wasn’t some
pussy bitch to be taken by some old, ugly guy. He was a real man, his
own man, nobody else’s man! He never liked men. He was determined to
just walk away from this pervert. He decided that was just what he was
going to do, get up, and walk away. He stood up from the table, and
looked at the man who minutes ago had beckoned him over.
“Where you going, bitch?” the man demanded, after slowly sucking on his
cigar and staring his boy down.
“Nowhere, sir,” Bruce responded.
The man chuckled, and patted Bruce on the ass. The man’s hand on
Bruce’s ass felt amazing. Bruce immediately wanted to stick it out and rub
it up against his hand, begging for more.
“Then sit back down, boy, while I finish my cigar.”
“Yes, sir,” Bruce said, with a bit of a lisp. Bruce immediately sat
back down, wondering why he was doing it. At the same time, he reveled
in his hard cock, in the smell of leather, and the memory of the feeling
of this large man (whose name Bruce didn’t even know) and his hand on
Bruce’s ass.
“I like to suck on a nice cigar before I get my cock sucked,” the man
added after Bruce sat.
“Mmm,” Bruce involuntarily moaned, “Yes, sir.” He didn’t mean that,
why did he say that? Bruce wondered. Earlier with Bob was one thing,
there was something wrong then, he was like a robot or something. Maybe
he ate something weird and was sick or whatever, but now he was fine.
He knew what he was doing, and he did not want this. And he really was
going to get up and walk away now.
The man reached under the table while smoking, interrupting Bruce’s
rebellion planning, and fondled Bruce’s groin. Even through the tight,
thick, sweaty leather, his hand felt like electricity. Bruce felt almost
honored that this man was even caring enough to touch him there. This
big, hot, hairy man whose entire chest (sagging breasts and gut and
all; which at first made Bruce sick but now only made him hotter) could
be seen for anyone as he had no shirt on. He also wore a tight pair of
leather chaps (clearly too big for him) and a leather g-string which
barely held his cock. As it was his balls sagged out on the bottom. His
hairy, delicious to Bruce looking balls….
“Damn it!” Bruce yelled.
“What the fuck is wrong, bitch,” the man yelled back at him.
“I’m sorry, sir, I don’t know what is going on, sir” Bruce whined, a
look of definite fear in his eyes. He swore he wanted to leave, but part
of him was so drawn to this man. Even just the smell that wafted over
in front of him. Part of Bruce wanted to climb up on that hairy body
and lick that smell of him, that smell of real man. He wanted to shove
it up his mouth and nose and worship it fully. Yeah, Bruce wanted his
hairy Master.
“Don’t worry, boy,” the man said, putting out his cigar in the ash
tray. He got up and stood up in front of Bruce, standing above him and
slightly into him, forcing Bruce to move back a bit and let this man on
him.
Bruce’s cock felt alive, Bruce’s skin was on fire. The leather made it
even more intense. Bruce felt so good he no longer cared about
thinking or getting out there as much. He pushed that worry to the back of
his mind as he ground his cock against his Master’s invading knee, and
then hand. He leaned his head back giving his Master access properly as
his mouth was invaded. He felt the warm, hairy body above him start
to press down on him and claim him as he the inside of his face and
groin were mauled and felt up. And it got Bruce so excited he couldn’t
even breathe right, he couldn’t think, he could only feel how good this
felt. How right.
“Get up and come with me, boy,” his Master growled in his ear.
“Yes, Master,” Bruce complied. He quickly jumped to his feet once his
Master moved off of him and walked right behind him, as his Master
latched two fingers onto the front of his shorts, right by the tip of his
cock, and pulled him along. Even just this little act made Bruce feel
so warm and sexy. How had he never done this before? It really felt so
good, better than anything he had even done with a girl.
“Come along, faggot,” Master barked.
“Yes, sir,” Bruce surprisingly quickly responded.
“And thank you, sir,” Bruce added after thinking for a moment. It felt
like the right thing to say.
“What’s your name, boy,” Master questioned while he led his boy through
an extremely crowded club. Bruce was somehow turned on even more by
this, all these people brushing up against him. Especially that they
were seeing him like this, not only in these hot, tight clothes, but
being led by this sexy man. Seeing him as Bruce was realizing he truly
was, like the hot leather bitch he should be.
“Bruce, sir.”
“Heh,” Master chuckled. “Faggy name for a faggy boy, no big surprise.”
“Thanks, sir.” Bruce giggled as well, not noticing he was now speaking
with a bit of a lisp. And also that when he “dropped character” a
little bit out of his slave boy mode, he was prancing around a bit with
his hands. Even now while walking his right hand was limp and out, in a
position he was always conscious of never allowing before. But he was
too caught up to notice. He was just letting it all hang out, letting
these sexy new feelings overwhelm him and lap over him like an ocean of
forbidden, new lust. More and more, he wanted to drown in it.
He had been led through a large club full of other sexy many in various
stages of nudity, into a smaller area in the back, through a couple
rooms, and into a dark, red room, where lots of moaning and smells
reverberated throughout. Bruce inhaled it all greedily.
Master stopped in front of him, and reached down, releasing his
magnificence from it’s g-string confines. Without a word, he grabbed Bruce’s
head and started to push him down.
The universe held it’s breath, as this was the moment. Time froze for
Bruce, and all of his
emotions from the night came rushing back. His detachment and
confusion with Bob, his lust for this man, his new feelings of hedonism and
sexuality, his straightness, it all came smashing together, as he knew he
was supposed to get down on his knees and take this man’s cock in his
mouth. He knew he wanted to as well, but that he shouldn’t want to. It
wasn’t right, it wasn’t who he was.
His cock felt so good, though. It kept pushing to the front of his
mind. Absent mindedly, he was even stroking the front of it through the
leather confines. Drool had formed on the side of his mouth, and of all
the things he could be looking at he was still staring, unblinkingly,
at his Master’s cock. What was he so worried about? Did he really
care anymore? He just wanted to feel this, to feel hot and good. He
moved forward, getting on his knees, and time sputtering caught up with
him.
“No,” Master slapped Bruce’s hand away from his groin. “Only I touch
you there without permission.” Bruce nodded, still getting onto his
knees and getting in position.
“Yes, sir.” Bruce looked up at his Master’s hot body, his amazing,
thick, huge cock, and into his dark, penetrating eyes, and gave up. He
didn’t care what it made him. Queen Fagra of the Fagazons he may be, he
wanted this hot man’s cock in his mouth right fucking now.
And he leaned forward and took it.
It was like nothing he had ever before experienced. So salty and yummy
and hot. From such a normally gross and sweaty region, which was now
suddenly the sexiest thing he could imagine. He licked all over his
Master’s cock, his balls, his hairy, red, hot groin. Licking and
consuming everything there. The more he saw his Master get hard and pleased,
he himself got hotter and harder. Without even touching himself he
could feel the pre-cum pile up in his leather shorts. He was barely
breathing through his nose and still going to town on this cock. It felt so
good, he felt so good. So hot, so real, so gay. He was a faggot.
And he loved it. He LOVED it! He loved cock!
Without realizing it was about to happen or even thinking about it, he
grunted hard, stopped his sucking involuntarily, and came. He came the
most incredibly orgasm of his life. He came so hard he forgot who he
was and what he was doing. So much so that he was horrified when he
remembered he was on his knees in front of a hairy, gross old man, with
his drippy cock centimeters away from his face. And he loved it. And
that horror and shame only made it hotter, made him gayer, made him feel
sexier.
“Bad boy!” Master shouted, yanking Bruce up by his collar and turning
him around. “Now you don’t get to suck my cock anymore!” Bruce whined
and felt horrible all of the sudden, ashamed of his lack of self
control. He let his body go limp so his Master could move him around as he
pleased, hoping this would appease him.
“And now I’m also not gonna bother with any stupid lube, either!”
Master shouted, having forced Bruce’s body to turn around fully in front of
him. He then firmly and quickly smacked Bruce’s ass and shoved his
back.
“Now bend over, bitch!”
Bruce bent over, slightly confused and upset, still, but rapidly
forgetting about it as even just his Master’s hands on him made him feel
hotter. Let alone the realization of what was about to happen to him.
“Now, just to make it clear, boy, no touching yourself and certainly no
cumming without my explicit permission,” Master ordered while yanking
Bruce’s head back firmly from his hair. Bruce could hardly stand the
pain but he attempted to stay bent over for his Master and nodded his
obeisance. “Good.”
Master suddenly and swiftly jammed his cock into Bruce. Bruce’s ass
lit up with pain, and he could barely stand it, let alone stay bent
over. But he grit his teeth and bore it, still hard and determined to
please his Master. Even with all the pain he had to stop himself from
jacking off, for just the act of being a good slave for his Master turned
him on so much. He would have to learn quickly it was not his cock
anymore, it belonged to his Master.
Slowly the pain began to ebb, and he felt even hotter. Bruce was
getting cock up his ass, getting fed his Master’s masculinity, getting
bitched. And he loved it. He grunted and groaned, taking it like a champ,
more and more feeling his prostrate and ass come alive with pleasure.
“Yeah, take it, boy, while I bitch you and make you mine,” Master
grunted. “I knew you’d have a nice, sloppy ass.” And even though he’d
never been fucked up the ass before, he did. Bruce didn’t question it,
either, as if he truly did have a sloppy, used ass all along.
“Oh, thank you, sir,” Bruce grunted. “Oh, yes.” Bruce felt like his
mind was gone, all that existed was this man’s cock and his ass. “Oh,
god, yes, fuck me!” Bruce lisped. “FUCK ME, SIR!”
“Yeah, faggot, you take it, bitch!” Master shouted, fucking him harder,
almost knocking him over.
“Yeah, fuck my faggot ass! Make me your bitch, sir! TAKE ME! I need
your cock! I love it! I want it!” Bruce couldn’t stop himself; it was
like the floodgates had opened. “Oh, yeeeesssss! Fuck me fuck me
fuuuuucccckkkk me!”
“You may cum when I do, boy,” Master whispered, on the precipice.
Both of them started grunting and moving harder and harder together,
until finally Master yelled and grunted, cumming into his boy’s ass,
right as Bruce let out a high pitch squeal and cum started pouring out of
his boy cock. Bruce moaned a high pitched moan all the while he came,
and rubbed it around his body.
“Mmmm, thanks, sexy,” Bruce said after, climbing of the cock. “I
really needed that.” Bruce, lisping away, also absent mindedly reached into
his asshole. He dipped his finger in the cum and suckled on it, while
his other hand traced his own cum around his chest.
“That was one fierce fucking!”
“No, problem, boy,” Master sighed, still reeling from his intense
orgasm. Bruce stood, half naked from the waist down, cum dripping out of
his ass, hands all limp wrested, lisping, and post coital; and he
realized he felt the best he had ever felt. He loved cock so much. And he
quickly forgot about anything else.
*****
That night Bruce had one final, vivid dream. He was in his leather
chaps, assless, fucking himself with a dildo and jacking himself off, in
hog heaven, when two men walked up to him.
Both men had strange blurs in front of their faces. Bruce could not
understand why but he could not see them, almost like he was watching
Cops or something. They had the same kind of body type, and were the same
size as Bruce. In fact, when Bruce stood up, he realized they were
exactly eye to eye. The man on the left looked like your typical frat
boy; cheesy, silver jewelry, Greek letters on his shirt, jeans, nothing
special or different. The man on the right was a hot leather god;
collared harnessed, pierced, tattooed, muscled, sweaty, smooth perfection.
They both stood like automatons, and Bruce felt like he was supposed to
present something to them.
“What do you want, faggot?” the man on the left scowled.
“You are fucking hot, bitch,” the man on the right lusted.
Bruce kneeled in front of the man on the right, automatically, and was
overwhelmed with the feeling of lust. He suddenly was writhing under
the man as he was fucked by him, was sucking him off while on his knees,
was jutting back and forth into all kinds of sexual positions with
him. All the while the other faceless man stood in scorn. Bruce looked
over at him and felt bad for him. He reached one of his free hands out
and started jerking him off. At first, the man stayed soft and
resisted, but quickly he started to harden and moan. And suddenly a glowing
light surrounded both men. Bruce was thrown off of his partner, and
lied on the floor in front of the two of them as they lit up. They
reached over to each other and walked into each other, becoming one. Bruce
could no longer look at them and looked away, realizing the light was
dimming.
Just as the light stopped Bruce started to feel an empty longing in his
and mouth. He realized the light had stopped and he looked up and saw
himself, encased in leather, hot and sweaty, hard cock in hand.
“Bend over, faggot,” he told himself.
“Yes, sir!” he squealed in delight, immediately bent over.
And the universe finally came.