4 comments/ 17025 views/ 1 favorites I Can't Stop By: skinnychic Raul and I had been sending flirtatious emails for weeks when I decided to up the ante and show up in front of him in real honest-to-goodness three-dimensional life. Not sure how this could pan out, I dressed as best I could for the occasion: curve hugging skirt, a sheer blouse over a bra-less cami, and black heels. I was fairly certain my clothing passed muster as a few male coworkers paused for an extra beat that day to check me out. I knew he'd be in his room late because he was killing time before a sporting event that evening, but I waited until the rest of the elective hall had cleared out and the custodians had made their way into the other wings of the school. I didn't want to be interrupted. Gathering my nerve I grabbed my ID and buzzed myself in at one of the doors that allowed me to bypass the gates to his hallway. I didn't want to ask a custodian to escort me. I didn't need anyone knowing I was there. Sauntering casually to keep my heels from clicking loudly on the waxed tiles I opened his classroom door and found him behind his desk, as usual, ostensibly surfing the internet. "Good afternoon, Mr. Gonzalez," I said, keeping my voice low. A smile crept across his face as he looked up and responded in his soft Spanish accent, "Hello, señorita. It is always a pleasure to see you." I glanced around the room. Though I knew this wing was empty, I didn't like that his desk was visible from both doors, so I wandered over to one of the armchairs in the opposite corner of the room. "Why are you way over there?" he asked. "These chairs are more comfortable than student desks," I replied. "That is certainly true," he said, rising from his desk and crossing the room to sit in the other armchair next to mine. The chairs were angled slightly toward each other so our legs nearly touched. As we made the usual smalltalk sprinkled here and there with racy suggestions, I pulled my legs up onto the chair beside me, the slit on the side of my skirt revealing a little extra leg. His glance told me he noticed, so I shifted my weight a little more and recrossed my legs, giving him a quick glimpse of the tiny strip of fabric that passed for panties. He stopped midsentence and I wondered if he forgot what he was saying. "You did that on purpose," he accused, his tone soft and quiet. "Did what?" I asked. "I know you're messing with me," he said. "You came in here looking all hot, and now you're toying with me. Don't pretend you don't know what effect your having." He glanced meaningfully down at his crotch, which I couldn't see because of how his leg was situated. Busted, I thought. He got up and walked over to the counter, turned on a lamp, and turned off the overhead light. As he crossed behind the desks he adjusted himself and I could see the hard outline of his penis through his dresspants and my mouth went dry. My eyes flashed to his and I realized he was watching me. He knew what I saw and he was gauging my reaction. As he came back to his seat, he crossed right in front of my chair. Without thinking I reached out and grabbed the side pocket of his slacks stopping him in front of me. It didn't escape my notice that his crotch was eye level. As I held onto his pocket our eyes met and he knew exactly what I wanted. He bent and placed his hands on the arms of the chair, boxing me in with his face inches from my own. "What are you doing?" he whispered. "Is there something you want?" He looked at my lips and I thought he was going to kiss me, but instead he stood back up. "Come here," he commanded and took my hands, pulling me out of the chair and walked me around it so we stood in the corner of his room by the counter. "I like this spot better," he whispered. "It's more versatile." He moved toward me and I automatically stepped backward and ran into the countertop. He stopped a fraction of an inch away from me and stood with his hands in his pockets. He was close enough for me to feel the heat radiating from his body. He lifted my chin with a finger. "I think you are playing games with me," he said, holding my gaze. "I think there's something you want, but you are afraid to ask, so you tease me." "I..." I started to reply. "Shh," he said, putting a finger to my lips. "Let's not talk." He closed the gap between us and ran his hands down my sides. My breasts pressed against his chest and the countertop behind me dug into my back. Fireworks were exploding in my brain as I inhaled his scent and gave in to my own instincts. My hands were everywhere. He was right. I wanted him desperately and my body responded instantly to his touch. His hands were everywhere too. He pulled my skirt up and yanked my panties down to my calves, and his fingers returned immediately to explore the treasures between my legs, finding me already soaked and ready. He hoisted me onto the countertop and pulled my blouse over my head. His hands slid under the cami, kneeding my breasts and rubbing my excited nipples. He unzipped his own pants and pulled out his thick erect cock and wrapped my hand around it. "This is what you wanted, isn't it?" he asked. I stroked his penis and he pulled my body against his. Our genitals crushed together as he pushed against me, and the heat felt intense enough to burn skin. "Are you sure..." I started to ask, mumbling near his ear. "I can't stop," he said. "I need this now," and he pushed inside me. I cried out my pleasure as he filled me, and I wrapped my legs around his waist. He crushed his lips to mine, silencing me, and pumped against me, his tongue invading my mouth and his cock drilled out my soaked pussy. With each thrust he lifted me from the counter, my body glued to his, and my breasts bounced under his chin. When he grunted his pleasure I felt his cock thicken and pulse in me as he shot his load, and his whole body froze until his orgasm had passed. Gently he set me back on the counter and withdrew his shiny, soaked penis from me. He tucked himself back into his pants and straightened some of my clothing for me. He wrapped me in his arms, his mouth nuzzled against my neck, and he whispered, "Are you okay? I didn't hurt you, did I?" My lips found his and we kissed. "I know, you said..." he paused looking for words, "You liked a man to be aggressive, but I..." "You were amazing, Raul," I breathed, and we folded ourselves into each others' embrace. I Can't Stop Assraping Until just a few years ago, I was a normal, law-abiding bisexual guy. I had a girlfriend (who is now my wife), with normal hobbies like fishing, woodworking, and Playstation. And I would secretly meet up with guys on the side for things I can't get from my girl. Just like everybody else, huh? But nowadays the hottest part of my sex life is the part I could go to jail for. How did I get here? It's a short, sweet, violent story. Early one Sunday morning a few Septembers back, I had gone to the local knife shop to pick up a hunting knife I'd had resharpened, a really nice 7-inch German fixed-blade. The knife shop is in a strip mall that never gets a lot of foot traffic, and the early hour meant it was even deader. Apparently all the good citizens were in church. Good for them. I left the shop in a hurry; I'd had several cups of coffee already, and I needed to piss pretty badly. As I emerged from the shop, I startled a guy who happened to be walking past, in the direction of my car. He jumped noticeably, and I muttered "Sorry, man." But we were headed in the same direction, so we wound up walking more or less side-by-side. Always awkward when that happens, huh? To avoid making eye contact, I checked him out. He was more lightly built than me, a few inches shorter, and with slightly girlish shoulder-length light hair. The odd thing was the way he was dressed. There was a chill in the air, and the guy was wearing only a thin T-shirt and a pair of those 70s-style athletic shorts. I noticed his nipples poking through the fabric. Feeling my dick stiffen in my jeans, I moved my eyes downwards to his crotch. Hey, he had a semi-hard himself! And I could see a drop of moisture in the fabric... mmmm, he was going commando-style. But why was he out walking around like that? I dropped back a few steps, which relieved the social tension a little. But it didn't do anything to relieve my sexual tension, as now I got to stare at his butt. His asscheeks were bigger and rounder than I expected, and the shorts didn't quite cover them. Also, there was something odd about his stride. I couldn't quite put my finger on what was strange about the way he was walking. More side-to-side wiggle than normal? A little more pelvic roll? Whatever it was, it was making my cock incredibly stiff. I really wanted to get it out of my jeans. At least I didn't have to pee so bad now. Then I noticed a rectangular shape inside the guy's shorts, between his cheeks and at the bottom of his asscrack. It was a buttplug! This guy was obviously walking around in public like this, nearly naked and with his anus stretched, for his own sexual gratification. What a little slut! Now there's nothing that gets me hotter than sluts, especially anal sluts. Anyway, that's my excuse for losing control. I pulled out my freshly sharpened knife and said, "Hey, buddy, take a look at this." He turned, giving me a great profile view of his ass and his protruding cock, and he froze dead in his tracks when he saw the knife. I continued, "You'll turn into this alley if you know what's good for you." He turned, and I followed, into a narrow alley between a nail salon and an abandoned Subway. There was a small green dumpster there, and I said, "Bend over that dumpster and lift up your right leg." The guy was obviously scared (who wouldn't be?), but he complied. He lifted his leg up onto the dumpster lid, and the fabric of his shorts stretched tight over the base of the buttplug, obviously pushing it deeper into his rectum. His shorts rode up to expose his balls, each protruding from one leg of his shorts. Now I really lost control. I used the knife to slit his shorts straight down the center, along his asscrack. He was suddenly naked below the waist except for the buttplug, and I immediately grasped it and pulled it slowly out of his anus. The plug was pretty thick and long, and generously lubricated, and his asshole made an obscene squelching noise as the buttplug came out. I put my knife back into its sheath and pulled down my own jeans, allowing my cock to spring out. Then I reached around the guy, grabbed him by the base of his cock, and shoved my own straight up his dripping ass. He moaned with obvious pleasure. Just for fun, I used my free hand to pull the knife back out and hold it in front of him where he could see it. That made him stick out his ass to push my cock even deeper inside him. After a few minutes, I dumped a huge load of cum into his rectum, and then, after a few moments of relaxation, I emptied my bladder into him as well. Piss dribbled out of his ass and around my balls, and a big splash of piss followed when I pulled my cock out. I re-fastened my jeans, said "Good luck getting home, buddy," and walked out of the alley leaving him behind. As I exited, I turned back for a quick look; the guy was leaning up against the dumpster, jacking his cock like a monkey. That was the best cum I had had in months, and I was so aroused by it that, by the time I got home, I was hard again and I had to fuck the wife. Even though I shot a pretty good load into her, I still felt there was something missing. Then it hit me: the slightly disappointing thing was the fact that she'd consented. Uh-oh. In the days that followed, I discovered that my experience in the alley had awakened some kind of sixth sense in me: I could detect anal sluts in a crowd, even if they didn't happen to have a buttplug in (as most don't). That meant my knife had a new use: slicing open sluts' pants. I have probably assraped one guy per month, and, although I know it is wrong, my morals take some comfort in the fact that I have never fucked any guy who didn't turn out to be a total ass-slut... at least after I've spent a few minutes raping his bowels. They all eventually stick out their asses for me and spread their cheeks apart, to get me deeper inside them. I took a big risk yesterday, though, and I am not sure how much longer I will be able to keep this up without getting caught. My wife and I had gone to her niece's wedding (so naturally I left my knife at home). She's 22 and I had heard the guy was 19, and also that people in our family didn't think much of him. At least in part because of his age, there were questions about his commitment to the marriage. We got to the cathedral and, sure enough, there was a problem. The guy had gotten cold feet! He was holed up in a dressing room and wouldn't let the priest or any of his family inside. The bride-to-be was in tears, and pretty soon my wife was too. She said, "Maybe he'll talk to a stranger. You're a nice, empathetic guy; go in there and help him see some sense!" Uh, well, okay. I knocked on the door, introduced myself (leaving out the fact that I was on the bride's side), and asked whether I could come in. After a second, I heard a voice say "Okay," and the door opened a little. I slipped in and closed it behind me, wondering what I was going to say to the reluctant groom. The minute I saw him, I knew I was not going to have a lot to say. Now I understood why he was nervous about the wedding: this guy was the biggest anal slut I had ever run into. He was sitting there in his tuxedo shirt, jacket, and bowtie, and just white briefs. My sixth sense was going nuts, and I was instantly as hard as I have ever been before. I felt a droplet of precum in my boxers. Without another word, I grabbed him and pushed him to the floor. I ripped off his briefs with my bare hands, spread his cheeks and was amazed by what I saw. He had the hugest, darkest, puffiest anus I had ever seen. I swear his donut was the size of a donut: three inches across, moist, and thick. If you have ever seen a horse's anus, it looked just like that. I spat on it and on my own cock and then speared his shitter more roughly than I had ever done. The sound of his needy moans as I thrust made me cum in less than a minute, and I felt as if I was filling his bowels with quarts of cum in a steady stream. I pulled out, handed him his pants, and said "Now go marry her if you value your life." After wiping my cock on the tattered remains of his briefs, I pulled up my slacks and walked out of the dressing room. It was indeed a lovely ceremony. When the bride and groom knelt to receive Communion, I noticed a small wet spot in the middle of the groom's pants. Yes, that was my semen dripping out of him during the "happiest day of his life." It was a pretty good day for me too. I know I am going to have to rape that puckery shitter of his again and again. I hope he never turns me in; I would miss my wife, and I understand that the amount and quality of the buttfucking in prison is extremely overrated. In the meantime, though, the poor guy's balls are going to be frequently coated with my semen and piss dripping out of that huge loose butthole of his, especially whenever I hear he is disobeying his bride.