0 comments/ 102627 views/ 86 favorites Baseball Star and the Little Guy By: Coxswain Big athlete becomes a runt's bitch This is a true story, as told to me by an acquaintance. Names and locatioBaseball Star and the Little Guy ns have been changed. I'm on a national league baseball team--we'll let the name go unmentioned, and for a name for me, let's just call me "Noname"--hey, "Nome" for short. Anyway, off the diamond, I'm in the most fucked-up situation I can imagine. Couldn't tell it, though, by my play during games. I hit homers. We win. I get TV interviews. And pay raises. The whole thing started about a year ago when alone in my hotel rooms on away games or in my condo at home, I kept thinking about sex. I mean, I've always wondered about fucking. All right, I'm not a virgin, okay? I've had my share of hot ladies. But I always wondered. According to the stories, the woman always moans in pain as the guy sticks it to her. It always hurts. It hurts them? Even when their cherries are long gone? Mine never complained. Did it hurt and they just didn't let it show? Did it always hurt? How much? It couldn't be that bad--how did the population of the earth ever develop? On the other hand, why was "the woman screamed as I sank it into her" always a part of porn stories? I'm not into conquest, victory, establishing my power over a partner, that sort of thing. I wouldn't say this in the locker room, of course, but I didn't want to hurt anybody. Could a man fuck a woman without hurting her? Did it truly hurt? And how much? What did it feel like? I decided to try something. I sent off for a dildo, a cock "modeled on Super-hero, himself!" The Super-hero in the picture was a guy posing in a red cape, but what stuck out from between his legs was a bar of pure Kryptonite. When it came in the mail (in a plain, brown wrapper) I scurried up to my condo and locked the door. In my college critical-thinking classes, I learned the scientific way. I stripped down, noted how I felt at the moment (fine), and lay back on my bed. I looked at the big dildo. Damn, that guy had a cock like this? Three times as long as mine and twice as thick. Wonder what it would feel like to suck it. What the hell, I tried it. Nothing special, really. To feel my mouth wow out around a big, flaring cock was a minor turn-on but otherwise like sucking on a bicycle tire. If that was what blowjobs were like, I couldn't understand the popularity. I knew what it felt like, of course, but why did women always want to do it? The first time pressing the rubber cockhead against my ass was almost a deal-buster. The plastic head was slick from my spit and the Vaseline I slathered over it, but damn, it hurt! I couldn't believe it. Worse than a runner sliding in to the plate with his spikes up to stab you in the balls. It's bullshit, all bullshit! Nobody could take it up the ass. All those porn stories about women moaning at first but then coming to love it--and the stories about guys loving it up the ass are lies! Nobody can stand this, let alone crave it! Didn't try it again for a week. But gradually my curiosity grew: Men do fuck each other, there's no denying that. And women take it in the ass as well as the pussy. How can they stand it? It had to be an acquired taste, something the victim is trained into. I could identify with that. Plenty of things in baseball aren't "natural" motions. Everything takes training. I picked up the dildo again. Okay, let's take it slow. I pushed it against my asshole again. It hurt. I pushed harder. It hurt more. I gave up. This can't work! Then it hit me: start smaller. I grabbed a candle and slicked it up with Vaseline. Yeah! With just a little Yipe as it popped open my rectum, the candle slid into my ass easily. And once I held it in there for a few minutes, my hole got used to the stretch, and the burn faded away. I still don't get it. This just feels like I've got a candle up my butt, nothing more. Then I pulled it back out. Oh--my--God!! Like a bow pulled across the violin strings of my ass, sizzling sensations shot through me, hardening my dick like intravenous Viagra! Damn, what a thrill! I played more with the candle, finally ending with a jackoff session splattering a giant load all over my chest. After that I experimented with bigger stuff: sawed-off broom handle, a piece of PVC pipe, backing up to take the arm of the rocking chair up my ass. Always taking it slow, waiting, adjusting to the pain with each larger size. And as I got used to the bigger ones, I wanted to go still bigger. The day I lay back on my bed, raised my legs, and got my tennis racket handle up my ass, I celebrated with a jackoff that ended in a toast--I drank my own cum, scooped up off my belly. I was ready to take on the Super-hero dildo again. Once more, the big bazooka burned as I pushed it against my asshole, but I was trained: I could stand it, and--I'll be damned--once it popped past my sphincter, the thing slid in me up to its rubber balls! I did it! I took Super-hero. Once I rested and allowed myself to get used to the big thing, sliding it in and out slowly radiated such hot sparks through me that I grabbed my cock and brought myself to a roaring orgasm in about three strokes! Couldn't believe it. Hottest jackoff in years just from stimulating my asshole. Much better than beating the meat by itself. It's true! Men can fuck each other! I writhed over the bed, still pleasured from the rubber loverboy still up my ass. God, an afterglow from a rubber cock. It felt wonderful, and I left it in for a long time. Even thought about leaving it in and spending the day with it up my ass. But when I stood up, the dildo, too slick with lube and my juices, slid from between my buttocks. Had to catch it before it hit the floor. My newly trained asshole meant a big change in my thinking--I became a switch-hitter. I started noticing guys in the locker room, in the shower, even on the street. Once always on the lookout for a woman with nice tits and a nice ass, I found myself admiring a guy with a nice cock and a nice ass. But that was a real can of worms. If it got out that I was interested in cocks, my baseball career would be over. The negative publicity would end my contract, to say nothing of getting the shit beat out of me in the locker rooms. I settled down to a secret life, an amazed time of enjoying the beauty around me--the world was full not only of beautiful women, but of beautiful men, too--and I had a pass-key to their inner world. I got a hardon in the locker rooms, so I had to stay dressed, leave on my jockstrap, or cover myself with a towel nearly all the time. That was frustrating. Since I had discovered what I could do with my asshole, I wondered how to take advantage of that discovery. Without ruining my career. Couldn't figure out how to do it, though. Then everything changed. They got a new towel guy. After a home game, I passed by the new guy with the stack of towels, grabbed one, and glanced at him. A little guy (at first I thought he was just a kid) but no, he was about my age but short, very short. Probably not much more than five feet. A runt. He wasn't eye candy, so I passed on. Before I could open my locker, though, I got a call from the front office--I had to go back out to pose for some pictures with some civic group or other. The "photo opportunity" took longer than expected. It ended up in interviews with their magazine reporters, more pictures, etc, etc. When I finally got back to the locker room, everyone had gone. Damn. I did enjoy my daily dose of naked men. As I turned down the row with my locker, I spotted somebody--the new little towel runt about to take a shower after the team had finished. He'd put his shirt in an unused locker and was pulling off his shoes. I looked at him more carefully. Italian descent--black hair, olive skin, hooked nose. Nice eyes: blue. His long, thick, curly hair didn't look carefully cut. Lower class. Probably got the job from an employment agency. The runt was more muscular than I thought, though. In fact, with his shirt off, the little fucker had a build like a brick shithouse. Weighed 125, maybe 150 pounds. Belly like a stone wall, pecs hard and jutting, two brown nipples that stuck out like olive pits. And everything perfectly in scale--a little guy, sure enough, but his body was perfect, in proportion, like a football linebacker or some of the big guys on my own team--but in miniature. What a turn-on, a weird horniness unlike the clear, understandable arousal at seeing a naked big guy. Something about his economy-size body got to me. An eerie feeling like looking at a Ken doll and wanting to pull its Clothes off and pose it humping the Barbie. He looked up, saw me, and said, "Oh, hi. Everybody's gone. Didn't think they'd mind if I--" --"No, no problem." I walked over to him. "You're new. What's your name?" "Pete Dumone." "Well, welcome to the XXXs, Pete." We shook hands, and I went back to my own locker unbuttoning my uniform. I glanced back at the runt. As he dropped his pants, my mouth dropped, too. What was in perfect scale above his waist was a mind-boggling monster below. Look at that thing! A horse would be proud to own that cock, let alone any of us over six feet tall. And Pete stood just five feet! Damn, if they added the length of his cock, he would be over six feet like the rest of us! Unbelievable. Damn! He had to be a good baseball player--had his own bat. You're staring at it, stupid! Turn away! I turned my eyes away--but peeked back. Couldn't help myself. Like lightning struck me or something. For some reason I just couldn't stop looking. The weirdest, strongest arousal I ever felt in the locker room. The guy was equipped better than anybody on the team (or any paratrooper I ever saw when I was in the Army) but he was such a little runt! I mean, trotting around with that thing had to be uncomfortable--like a woman with huge tits trying to run. He walked away into the shower room, and I ripped off the rest of my clothes to get in there with him. I turned on a nozzle two down from where he stood--not at the far side of the room as if I were a prude or unwilling to shower with the hired help, but not so close that I looked like coming on to him. Amazing. His head was about the level of my chest. I could look down on the top of it, which he began to shampoo. As the soap turned into a white foam, he brought the suds down to wash his face. As he did, he rotated slightly to get out of the shower stream, which turned him to face me. I looked carefully--his eyes were Closed, covered with soap suds; he couldn't see. My gaze dropped back down to his crotch. Damn, that cock is something else! Not only was it long, it was thick. Possibly thicker than the broad end of a baseball bat, but certainly thicker than the handle-end. I bet that thing made the women scream. He was uncut, but I saw the outline of his cockhead under it. Thicker even than the shaft. A club. Suddenly one of his hands dropped down to it! I looked up at his face, but his left hand still rubbed around in the shampoo bubbles. He still couldn't see. I looked back down. To my astonishment, he was stroking himself! And it was growing. Longer. And thicker! And the foreskin was pulling back. His cockhead was a colossal flare that would bring a gasp from any woman. Or hell, any man. I felt funny. Dizzy like a double shot of rum. What in hell is wrong with him, he's jacking off in the showers! Fucking pervert! But I couldn't stop staring. The big thing got hard, tawny brown, darker than his body, textured with big blue and maroon veins and smaller ripples of skin. Gouging up through a poor woman's cunt, that thing would ream her out like an augur. Pete kept stroking, and the big thing reached full hardness, the flare standing shiny purple, jutting proudly out of the folds of foreskin. Almost glowing. It hit me: That's the most erotic--no, the most beautiful thing I've ever seen. I looked up at his face. Oh, shit! The foam had rinsed away from his eyes, staring up at me. "Like what you see, Nome?" My face burning with embarrassment, I turned away. "I said, do you like what you see?" The voice was much Closer, right behind me. Startled I turned around, and there he was, a step away. He moved still closer, and the huge cock touched wetly against my thigh--his crotch didn't reach high enough for him to touch my cock with his. But the touch of that thing on my inner thigh was like a huge soldering iron. Like straddling a blowtorch. I jumped back! "Hey, what the hell--" --"You like it, don't you, big guy?" "Naw! Don't mean nothing to me!" "Then why are you breathing hard? Why don't you tell me to get the hell away?" I gulped. "Yeah. Get the hell away." But my voice came out soft and weak. And he didn't move away. Kept rubbing that big, throbbing thing against my inner thighs. "Reach down and touch it," he said in a low voice. "It's okay. You know you want to." He stepped back to give me access. "Go ahead, heft it." This is fucking insane! Anybody comes in here right now, and we're caught dead to rights! "I ain't queer, you little runt." But my voice cracked and squeaked. "Course you're not. You just like my cock, and you want to touch it." His voice was smooth and mellow. Probably had a good singing voice. "Go ahead. Touch it." Don't do this, you stupid ass! Don't! But my hand reached out, almost against my will, and I grasped Pete's giant dong. Hot to the touch. God, it's huge! Couldn't close my hand around it, and I have big hands. My pulse pounding in my ears, I slid the foreskin back and forth, and he let out a low groan. "Yeah," he murmured, "that's where your hand belongs, right?" I felt drunk. I've got my hand on another man's cock! My head spinning, I gulped, "Yeah." Oh, shit! What the fuck did I just say? As I struggled to get myself to let go of the damned thing, I felt Pete's hand grasp my cock. Fuck, I was at full erection! "Yeah, you're hard for me, man." His voice smooth, Italian silk: "You like me, don't you?" Couldn't think straight. My hand jacking Pete's cock had my heart pounding, but his hand stroking my cock had me completely out of control. "Yeah," I grunted, "you're a nice guy." "You like my cock, don't you?" Again, I could hardly breathe. "Yeah. Nice one." His thumb diddled my piss-hole, sending electric shocks through me. "Why don't you bend over and get a closer look?" Somehow, in my aroused confusion, that sounded like a reasonable thing to do. I bent over to bring my head closer to Pete's crotch, then sank to my knees when I realized how low I'd have to bend over. Damn, it was handsome. Jutting up from the black thatch of his pubic hair. Beautiful. Like a painting. Up close, redder than a Cincinnati baseball cap. Strong. Powerful. "Suck it." His voice sounded in my brain almost like I hadn't heard it through my ears. Booming. Echoing from one side of my skull to the other. Commanding. Ordering me. My thought-processes came to a complete, frozen stop, and the huge cockhead came closer, closer, closer--I opened my mouth. Jesus God, I couldn't get it into my mouth! I could only glom my lips over the glans, slobbering over it, licking at it with my tongue. "Yeah, that's it, Nome. Suck that big cock! Jack it with your hands." I did as I was told, kneeling in the warm spray of shower water, sucking at his cockhead while I stroked the shaft up and down. And faster than I thought he would, Pete crouched a little, stiffening for his orgasm. Before I could move my mouth away--I wanted to but for some reason didn't--like a dam-burst, a tidal wave of hot, slimy sperm shot into my mouth, and I gulped it down in sheer self-preservation. Gobs of it splashed around inside my mouth before I could swallow them, and I got to taste him. Strong taste. Heady. Male, pure male. Made me think of wife-beater shirts, wiry underarm hair, peace symbols tattooed on big shoulders, Western belt buckles, steak and beer. And testicles. Broad, heavy balls writhing in their soft leather bag, pumping out the manseed to breed me. God, I love this stuff! At that instant I felt my own balls contract--I had been stroking myself as I brought Pete to his pleasure--and a muscle-hardening orgasm swept over me, spreading out from my cock in a wave of fiery heat and stunning pleasure. The last sober thought I had before I floated away into the ecstasy--the fucking little runt seduced me! Like two dancers in an ancient ballet, a dance of iron, squared-off moves, Pete and I welded to each other in pleasure, my left hand and mouth urging his ecstasy to endure, my right hand powering my own rapture. His cock shot me the proof of his satisfaction with me. My own capitalized it. I loved it. God, I loved it. I suddenly realized that what I had been yearning for in the months since my dildo discovery stood before me in the steamy shower room. That cock! Now that we've come this far, I want that cock up my ass! When I sucked the last drops of cum from his big weapon, I sat back, catching my breath, relaxing. He, too, leaned back against the wall. "You're one fine cocksucker, Nome. Who woulda known?" My mind buzzed. All these months of jacking off in my hotel room with a big dildo up my ass led up to this! I had to have the real thing! I slowly leaned back until I lay in the water, looking up at him. I smiled and spread my legs, lifting them so my asshole came into view. I took a deep breath. "How fast can you get that big thing back up, runt?" "God!" He reached down, grabbing his big organ, which had already begun to fill out, and he worked it furiously. The foreskin pulled back from the big, purple nozzle, still slick from all the cum. Then I suddenly looked up in horror. Fuck, am I crazy? Out of my mind? That goddamned thing will never fit in my ass! It was three times wider than anything I ever used! Bigger than Super-hero! Suddenly I got religion. I lowered my legs. "Wait a minute," I said stupidly. "That thing's not going to fit!" Fuck, how am I going to get out of this now?? I wasn't: Pete was on me in a flash, pulling my legs back up, and he pushed that big thing into my ass crack before I could struggle away--Damn! Quick reflexes. He would be a good shortstop--and suddenly he made horny, teasing sensations come from my crotch. Damn, that felt good! Pete's voice was low, a growl. "You want my cock up your ass, you really want it. You big cocksucker, you want my cock to show you who's boss!" The big thing thrilled me as it slid up and down my ass-crack. God, it's true! I want him! Want him to--to overpower me! At that moment, a red-hot bazooka rocket burned a hole in my ass! The pain was a motherfucker! My asshole on fire, all that "overpower," "who's boss," psychological shit vanished like a drop of water on a hot grill. I was dying! All I could think of was getting that big moose and his giant cock out of my ass! I screamed! I yelled in agony! I wrenched and jerked, but the big man controlling me was stronger, quicker, outsmarting me! Suddenly he crammed a jockstrap into my mouth, turning my screams to muffled groans. God, it was nasty! Soaking wet, it tasted like drinking from a toilet bowl. And where did it come from? I choked. God, it must be one of his! Brought it in here with him. It hit me. He's been planning this all along! I was his prey! The taste in my mouth nauseated me. Is this what piss tastes like? Nothing like his cum. Pete's jockstrap was base, vile, disgusting. But he didn't care. His huge organ slid further in, spreading my asshole, rearranging my guts, skewering me. Baseball Star and the Little Guy I writhed, and I screamed into the jockstrap, but the courtship went on. Jesus God, how it hurt! Like nothing I'd ever felt, so bad I was in too much pain to move. My only occupation was to survive, to live through this. A thought flashed through my mind: what would have happened if I hadn't already trained my asshole to take Super-hero. As a tight-assed newbie, he would have injured me, split me open, sent me in an ambulance to the hospital. As it was, I was going through hell! I gritted my teeth as he pushed into me. I was his tame little rabbit. Big fucking bully! Somebody should kick his ass! I felt his big balls press against my butt. Pete's baseball bat was in me. He owned me. Made me. Got my cherry. The big bastard! The courtship was over, and the honeymoon began: Peter's peter pulled back, then rammed down my shitter again, but faster, fiercer, like an animal. Then back out again. Then back in. And he speeded up, screwing the hell out of me. Big son of a bitch! What a cruel bastard! I would beg him to stop, but I couldn't--mouth full of funky jockstrap. What a sorry mess I got myself into! All that damned curiosity about my asshole brought me to that point, lying naked on a wet shower room floor, a lion reaming out my ass, stretching out my guts so much I might need surgery after all. I hated him. The big son of a bitch had overpowered me, bullied me into this, raped me just because I was smal-- Smaller? SMALLER?? What in hell have I been thinking? He's just a five-foot runt I outweigh by 100 pounds! Suddenly aware that I could flick this mosquito off my ass, I gathered my strength, but suddenly-- --Jesus! My rectum and my guts began to glow. Pleasantly. Wonderfully! Can this be happening? He had stretched my body open to the point of snapping. All my nerves sharpened to needles, and the grunting strokes of the damned dwarf suddenly surpassed pain in an unearthly combination of agony and ecstasy! Like pouring rye whiskey on a gunshot wound--but the sensation was fiery pleasure! All my discoveries with the dildo came roaring back. God, it's true! Man-sex is mind-blowing! All the fears of being gutted by the little man's big cock dissolved in a red fire of lust, and I found myself sucking on the jockstrap! Yeah! The taste of his fucking balls! His crotch sweat! God, yeah! I was drunk. I wanted to swallow the funky rag! I wanted to tell him, urge him, beg him to fuck me harder! I loved the hoarse sounds of his heavy breathing, the heat of his body, and his hypnotic eyes. He didn't see me, though; he looked straight through me. But that very disdain, that I was merely the meat-hole to shoot his jism into, made me so hot, I yelled out a giant shout--actually spitting out the jockstrap. Then, "Yeah, Pete, do it! Fuck me! Harder! Harder, you big sonofabitch! DEEPER!" Oh, yes! Glorious! His eyes cleared as he stared down at me. "Like this, Nome? Knew you would." Even his voice was sexy, a hoarse, husky growl raising the hair on the back of my neck. "Harder, Pete! Make it hurt! Fuck me to death!" But the little bastard was a master at fucking. He'd done it before, and he knew how to slow down, tease me, stimulate me into a begging, whining, helpless baby hanging on the end of his cock like a flag. His pet dog. Do anything, let him do anything--just as long as he fucked me, as long as-- --Ohmigod, it's happening! I was coming undone! The pleasure his big cock generated in me looped in ever greater cycles until the atomic bomb went off in my crotch! Oh--My--God! Wrapping my legs around his heaving ass was my last conscious act, straddling my lover as I flamed into blazing ecstasy! My cock was a flamethrower, jetting out my fiery sperm in a hellish rapture. Hadn't touched myself. Pete had fucked me to glory. When I came to a while later, he still plowed away, working toward his own climax. And floating in my own afterglow, he kept me at near-orgasm as I watched and admired his skill, his masculinity. His shoulders flexed with every stroke, and his hips slammed against mine. The monstrous rod sawed through my sensitive flesh, already burned-out from my orgasm, but he kept me at fever pitch. Finally, with a big groan, he rammed it in to the max, collapsed on my panting body, and his burning sperm pumped into me, warming my belly, making me feel even fuller. Incredible! His climax in me was such a weird, overpowering sensation--I pleased my man!--I actually had another orgasm, myself! Didn't think I could reload that fast. The most powerful moment of my life! Overwhelming! My whole life was starting over. A new birthday. When Pete caught his breath, he rose up from me, strings of my cum dripping from his chest where he had wallowed in it on my belly. His big tree slid out of me, and I tightened my ass--I didn't want it to go. When he sat back on his haunches, I looked up at him with--love. God, can this be true? It felt like a connection, an invisible cord from my heart to his. Couldn't tell if he felt the same about me. I didn't care. All I knew was that the big guy--No, dammit, he's little!--had pressed buttons in me nobody ever had. And I wanted him to do it again. I would do anything he wanted if he would. Pete stood up, rinsed himself off in the shower stream, then walked out. Without a word. I lay there in the warm, splashing water, a white stream of slime running out of my ass and watched him go. My man. Weird, but I knew it: I was in love. My life changed. From then on, I couldn't get the taste of his cum out of my mouth. My asshole remained warm, remembering. I had gone far beyond the dildo. Suddenly fucking a man seemed as normal as eating an apple. Basic. The other guys on the team didn't know, of course. And I didn't know how to show them. All I knew was that I dreamed of spreading my legs for Pete again. From then on, I always showered last, hoping Pete would join me. But he didn't. I grew more seductive when I took towels from him--touched his arm, patted his butt as athletes do, even grabbed his crotch once when no one was looking. Finally one day he came up behind me as I was stripping down for my shower. I was alone, thinking I had struck out with him again, so when I felt two hands grip my buttocks, I jumped a foot in the air. I turned around. "Yipe, you scared the shit out of me!" "You want to get together again, don't you?" "Yeah. Yeah, I do." I reached out and massaged the big bulge in the front of his pants. He still had on his clothes. "Can't do it here," he grunted. "Too dangerous. I can't lose this job; I got bills." "Yeah, sure. Where do you want to go, Pete?" By then I had unzipped his fly and groped inside. "How about your apartment?" "You want to go to my place?" I had the big thing out and was stroking it. "Yeah. Let's make it a date. You can take me to dinner, and instead of a movie, I'll show you some good old Chicago meat-packing." I dropped to my knees, bent my head down, and started sucking his cock. "I'll take that as a Yes." He pulled his cock back out of my mouth. "We can't do that here! Too dangerous. I'm lucky I didn't get caught last time. Here." He gave me a piece of paper with his address. "Come pick me up tonight at 8:00." Then he walked away. I was so horny I had to jack off in the showers. Lucky everybody was gone--I don't think I could have held back even if the whole club was in there with me. That night I drove to his place. Scary neighborhood. I took him to one of my favorite restaurants, a little Italian joint, and we sat at a table in the back, a dark one. While waiting for the food, I felt his hand touch my thigh under the table. I smiled. "Ah, Pete, you turn me on, you horny little fucker." I reached over under the table and squeezed his cock-bulge. "Who's the horny one?" He looked me in the eyes. "You want to be my bitch for the night?" Wham. Bitch? Never thought of it that way before. I was no man's bitch. But wasn't it the truth? Wasn't my man-pussy aching to feel that big cock of his? Didn't I love it when he treated me like a whore? I took a deep breath. "Yeah, Pete"--God, listen how husky my voice is --"Make me your bitch." I was so horny after that, I could hardly eat. Pete, though, the cocky male, dawdled his way through the meal, eating everything on his plate, even asking me if I was going to "finish that spaghetti?" By the time we left the restaurant, my cock was so hard (and for so long) it hurt. I made a new speed record getting from the restaurant to my condo. Once I closed the front door behind us, I started pulling off my clothes. Pete, on the other hand, walked through the place. "Damn, so this is how the superstars live." He walked out onto the balcony. "Hey, that's the water, ain't it. Look at those boat-lights." I followed after him, leaving a trail of clothes, finally standing behind him on the balcony, stark naked. I reached my arms around him and snuggled down to his back. "C'mon, big boy, show me what that Big Boy can do." He turned around. "You really are a horny bitch. Let's go back in the bedroom." I lay back on my bed, watching him strip down, stroking my throbbing cock, so hot I could hardly stand it. "Damn, you're sexy," I murmured. He smiled. "Over on your hands and knees. I want to take you like a bitch." I did as I was told. Dropped my head to the pillow to raise my ass for him. Problem was, the distance between my knees and my asshole was longer than the distance between his knees and his cock. With the monster he had, he could reach me, but not get in a full stroke. He had to stand, then bend his knees, mounting me in a deep squat. "Come on, Pete! I'm horny for you! Do it!" He did. Worked his cockhead inside my rectum, then rammed the whole, heroic thing up my ass in one home-run hit. I groaned. Hell, yes, it hurt! But a good hurt. When he was in to the hilt and stopped to let me stretch out, the pain faded away into that pleasure/pain super-feeling. "Ah, yeah, you big fucker," I groaned, "you got me again!" I shook my ass. "God, what you do to me!" "Know what that is, Nome? It's the Spoiler. Spoiled you for any other kind of sex." He began humping me with in-and-out strokes in a slow pace and lowered himself onto my back. "You've gone over, you know." I heard his voice behind me--with his cock in my ass, he couldn't reach to whisper in my ear. "You're a bitch now, Nome. Feel that cock in your ass? It's the only way you can go from now on." Shit. Can that be tr-- --"You know it's true. You've been thinking of me for days. Can't get me out of your mind." His thrusting cock already had me at the joyous level. "With a man's big piece of meat in your ass, you can let go of the macho armor you carry around all day." Jesus, he's right! "Ain't that right, Nome?" I gulped. "Yeah." "I didn't hear you." "Yeah, you're right, Pete." Somehow those words were the sound of the floor collapsing under me. I was falling. Into what? Could it be bad? Pete's fuck-lunges and even more the sound of his voice had me soaring. God, he's been fucking me only a minute, and already I feel about to cum! "You're a natural-born bitch, Nome." Ohmigod! "All you need is to feel a man's cock up your ass, and then you'll beg, borrow, or steal for him." Jesus! He's right! I would do anything for the little bastard! "Ain't that right?" I couldn't answer. He was right, but I still had some male pride. I was bigger than he was, after all. He stopped fucking. Pulled out his cock. Instantly I was empty, abandoned. My approaching orgasm evaporated. "Ain't I right?" Panting, desperate, I hissed, "Yeah, Pete, yeah! I'll do anything you want! Give me that big cock!!" "Okay, bitch, you cocksucking fairy slut, say hello to the big cum-lion again!" And with that he slammed it in all the way, blasting past my ass-ring, thrusting past my prostate, his hips smacking against my ass as he sank in to the max. "Motherfucker rich boy, you're mine now! My property. Gonna breed you till you beg to carry my baby!" JesusMaryJoseph! Pete's abuse shot me straight to an orgasm! WHAM! Boiling over with lust and ecstasy, I glowed in being his doggy! I craved the sweaty man rutting on me! I shot into the heavens, glowing and burning with a rapture so powerful it was scary, superhuman, life-threatening. Out of this world, bobbing in a red universe of pleasure, I felt shackles falling away, ropes holding onto me snapped, and heavy weights vanished. I was free! Free to let a man fuck me! My cock gushed out the biggest ejaculation of my life. Felt like a gallon. Magnificent orgasm. And that was just from his insertion! When Pete began fucking again, he raised me back up to the level of ecstasy I had slowly floated down from. I swear, for as long as he humped me, he held me in orgasmic rapture, so long I probably would have croaked of a heart attack if it went much longer. But when he let out that groan, my favorite sound, and I felt his big load anointing my guts, he took me still higher! I didn't cum again--the pleasure was all in my ass, all from my tortured, stretched, loving asshole! When he finished, I was a limp rag. Slumped forward onto the bed, purring, dizzy, fucked-out. Pete's slave forever more. He moved into my condo with me, of course. My problem now is handling my baseball career with the added problem of a man I'm head over heels in love with--actually that's "heels beside my head" when he rolls me up into his fuck-ball. We're both careful, naturally, but I'm putting money into investments to support us if (or when) I get outed. ~~~ ~~~ ~~~ ~~~