The evening felt like a twisted dream, maybe even a full-blown nightmare. I pushed the door closed behind me as I entered my musty room, still on the phone with Amy. I had called her midway between Tony’s room and my own, desperate to reach her before she went to bed and avoid any unwanted suspicion. Guilt washed over me as I turned my attention to the TV, which was still on, showing the start of the third quarter, my futile attempt to inject some semblance of masculinity back into my life. Coping with the reality that my entire sense of self had been shattered in the past forty-five minutes was excruciating. I had gone from a man confident in his identity to an ass-eating bisexual, manipulated by a 110-pound, flamboyant twink with a man bun. The worst part was that the one thing I had come for, the gigantic prize I so desperately sought, had been withheld from me, leaving me feeling used, discarded, and utterly defeated.
It was heartbreaking as Amy recounted her OBGYN appointment from that day, completely unaware of what her husband of a decade had just done. I struggled to get through the call with her, my mind prioritizing thoughts of Tony over my own wife and soon-to-be mother entirely against my control. Her voice blurred into the background, overshadowed by the lingering taste of Tony in my mouth that no hotel towel could erase. Each word intensified my guilt, amplifying the flashbacks I knew I would never escape. Yet, even amidst this guilt, the image of the man who had discarded me like a piece of trash loomed large in my mind. The weight of the evening bore down on me, wrapping me in a suffocating blanket of shame as I grappled with the reality of having crossed over the rainbow’s edge.
The remainder of the evening was a mix of emotions, marked by insecurity and fear. I fought off the desire to jerk off with all my being, trying to stave off the deep regret that I knew would inevitably engulf me once the guilt-laden release in my shorts became unavoidable. I struggled to focus on the presentation that awaited my attention. I was more obsessed with refreshing the chat with Tony, praying for a message that would summon me back to his room to finish the job I so desperately wanted, a chance to purge all my wrongdoing in a single evening. I’d become a broken man, suddenly gripped by the fear that I might have seen the last of Tony. What if I had failed his test, leaving me unworthy of a second encounter? I became unrecognizable to myself, caught in a dizzying mix of desire and self-doubt.
The morning arrived quickly after a restless night, and a shower did little to wash away the shame of the previous evening. Even after brushing my teeth multiple times, Tony’s phantom taste still lingered. When my alarm went off, he consumed my thoughts, leaving no room for anything else. I refreshed the chat even before responding to Amy’s "good morning" text, gripped by anxiety over whether he had replied. While I had managed to resist the urge to relieve myself, I knew that the guilt I had artificially suppressed from the night before would eventually surface, forcing me to confront the monster I had become.
I quickly dressed and rushed down the elevator and through the drab, deserted lobby, passing Amy's younger doppelgänger still at the front desk. Her curious eyes seemed to pierce through me as if she had been in the room watching my every move. What would typically be a flirtatious vibe with someone like her was instead replaced with a look of judgment, as if the events of last evening were somehow plastered all over my face. Overwhelmed with shame, I quickly looked away, unable to meet her gaze. By the time I reached my rental car, the weight of last night bore down even heavier, and Tony’s hold on me felt completely inescapable, leaving me trapped under his spell.
It felt like the longest day of my life, dragging on more painfully than any agonizing waits in hostile territory during my deployments. With each passing hour, my fear intensified that I would return home to my pregnant wife, burdened not only by the guilt of cheating on her with another man but also by how it happened. I struggled to focus on client work; every minute felt like an eternity. My phone was locked away on the military base and accessible only during brief breaks and lunch. Each time I checked it, it felt like waiting for a job callback, my desperation fueled by blue balls I refused to address until Tony was finished with me. Each anxious refresh of the chat was met with silence, amplifying my dread that I might never hear from him again.
Meetings blurred together, overtaken by a relentless stream of images my mind replayed like a photo album from the night before. I felt desperate, consumed by the detailed acts I envisioned performing on him if given the chance. Just after 4 PM, the long-awaited message finally arrived, igniting the same nervous anticipation as his text from the day before. “6 PM, my room,” it read, more a command than a question. Tony had dismantled me so thoroughly that I felt like someone who had just hit the lottery, exhilarated yet terrified of what was to come.
“Sounds good,” I replied, attempting to restrict my nervous exuberance from coming through the phone.
During the last hour of the day, anticipation nearly incapacitated me as I fixated on the thought of worshipping at the feet of the very man who had discarded me less than eighteen hours earlier. Time raced forward, and before I knew it, I was slamming the door of my rental car and stepping through the sliding glass doors of my shabby hotel at 5:20 PM. I passed the front desk, again unattended, and took the elevator. Upon exiting, I paused briefly to glance down the hallway I would soon traverse before heading toward my room.
The next half hour was a blur as I tried to settle my nerves. I quickly switched out of my business casual attire and into my usual athletic wear, replicating my choice from the night before. Though I wanted to avoid wearing another Marine Corps T-shirt out of respect for what was to come, it was my only option since I hadn’t packed anything else. A mix of nervousness and excitement enveloped me, intensifying my anticipation to see Tony. The unresolved tension in my shorts was fueled by desperation, knowing I wouldn’t find relief until long after I left his room that evening. I did my best to brace myself for the guilt and shame that would eventually come pouring out of me into the hotel shower drain when I returned to my room later that evening.
As I stepped into the corridor and pulled the door closed behind me, the reality of my situation hit me hard. I quickly texted Amy, letting her know I was about to grab dinner and would call her later, ensuring no notifications would pull me back to reality while Tony violated me. The hallway seemed to close around me as I swiftly covered the 500-foot distance to his door, which was slightly ajar from not being pushed closed. I hesitated, feeling my life flash before my eyes again as I contemplated the stark contrast between the man who had checked into this hotel just a day ago and the one standing before Tony’s door now.
My arm lifted, and for a moment, I hesitated, reflecting on how yesterday had offered the chance to walk away unscathed and return to my wife as a straight man. That option was now irrevocably lost. Just before I knocked, my phone vibrated in my hand, a timely acknowledgment from Amy, accompanied by a selfie of her smiling as she held up paint swatches in Home Depot for the room that needed to be ready in a month. It felt like the latest visual reminder of my betrayal, almost as if it had been planned. But the hormone-driven desire coursing through me quickly washed away any guilt, nearly forcing a knock on the door.
“Coming,” the distant, familiar feminine voice replied, barely penetrating the heavy door. My heart suddenly pounded in my chest.
As the heavy door creaked open, my gaze immediately fell on Tony, who stood almost entirely nude, a grin still plastered across his face, save for the rainbow-striped tank top he had worn the night before. Unlike yesterday, when he had stuffed his bike shorts to their breaking point with his nearly footlong kielbasa, he now appeared completely relaxed; his flaccid cock, still an impressive seven inches and draped over his gigantic testicles, dwarfing me even in my most-excited state. My firsthand knowledge of how imposing it would become only heightened my sense of intimidation.
“Hey, Steve, come on in,” he said, holding the door open and stepping aside, allowing me to enter after a brief moment of hesitation.
Though barely twenty hours had passed, stepping into the dingy Alabama hotel room felt like entering a sexual crime scene. My life had been upended, and this place wasn’t done with me yet. The memory of last night lingered, an inescapable part of my reality. Aside from the absence of a football game on the TV, the room looked exactly as I had left it. The duffle bag lay on the bed, while the white towel I had used to clean myself off remained crumpled at the foot. The loud hum of the air conditioning filled the heavy silence, amplifying my discomfort.
"Hope you didn’t get in trouble with the wife," Tony sneered, shutting the door behind me with a grunting push. His words were soaked with mocking amusement, fully aware of my ignored notifications. His grin grew more expansive, the taunt hitting hard as he played on the anxiety he knew it triggered. My gaze drifted to the shredded bike shorts hanging over the trash can, serving as some fucked up monument to my transformation and only amplifying my shame.
I laughed nervously, unsure how to react to his remark. Tony hadn’t mentioned Amy once the night before, but now he taunted me, asking if she knew about this. His sudden curiosity made my stomach tighten. It was clear he was savoring the control he held over me, and with every word, he intensified the humiliation. Knowing I had a wife waiting at home seemed to fuel his cruelty, making the degrading acts he'd coerced me into the night before even more unbearable.
As Tony moved further into the room and approached the bed, my eyes locked onto his bare ass, the same one my face had been buried in the night before, now freed from its spandex prison. He climbed onto the bed, sliding into the familiar doggy-style position, his head turning just enough to glance back at me through his glasses. My heart sank. The anticipation and dread of repeating the act surged within me, the moment's weight pressing down as I braced for what was to come.
“Just kidding!” he exclaimed, abruptly pulling out of the doggy-style position and standing at the foot of the bed before I could fully process what was happening. His grin widened, a clear indication of his delight in taunting me, a constant reminder that he could put me through it all over again and make me beg for it if he chose to. With his hands on his hips and that playful smirk plastered across his face, I found myself staring at his flaccid cock, still impressive in size, putting most men to shame even in its relaxed state. Despite everything that had just transpired, I felt ashamed to meet his gaze.
Before I could react, Tony grabbed the crumpled towel from the foot of the bed and let it fall back into place, just as he had the night before. “Lay down with your head here,” he instructed, his tone more serious this time as he pointed to the edge of the bed. I obeyed without a word. I still hadn’t adjusted to my new reality, reduced to nothing more than a tool for his satisfaction. There was no small talk, no interest in who I was or what I did; my identity had been stripped away, leaving me with no significance beyond what I could provide in this encounter. Yet, I complied, trapped in this unsettling new normal. I settled onto the bed; head tilted slightly off the edge, the Marine Corps logo on my T-shirt almost mocking the dignity I had given up.
From my upside-down vantage point, I could see Tony standing behind me, his rainbow-striped tank top and crooked grin in view. He gazed down, his wry smile unwavering as he let me fully absorb the vulnerability of my position. “Are you ready?” he asked, stepping over my head before I could respond to his rhetorical question. In an instant, my view of the ceiling was replaced by his flaccid cock brushing against my lips as it passed by. His massive balls settled heavily on my nose and mouth, their weight almost suffocating. The height of the bed, combined with his shorter stature, made the contact inevitable, forcing me to look up into the ass crack I had begged to service the night before.
Tony lingered for about fifteen seconds as if he were giving me a moment to process my reality. With cruel precision, he reasserted his dominance, his massive sack enveloping my face and suffocating my every breath, leaving me feeling utterly humiliated. The weight of his balls constricted my airflow, while his occasional lifts onto his toes provided fleeting moments of relief, allowing me just enough time to gasp for air before he settled back down. The sheer degradation of having another man's balls pressed against my face was overwhelming. Unlike the night before, Tony began to taunt me, amplifying my humiliation with every mocking remark he made.
“How do you like my big balls?” he shouted, his lisp lending a mocking tone to his words. Though I couldn’t see his grin, the delight in his voice was unmistakable as he reveled in my humiliation. As his sack descended again, my attempt to respond became a muffled sound, lost beneath its weight. “Which one do you want first?” he teased, swaying his hips from side to side. Each of his massive testicles brushed against my lips, which instinctively remained sealed shut, deepening my sense of degradation and muffling my uncertain mumblings even further.
“Open up, Steve,” he commanded, pressing forward and shifting his asshole so it rested on my nose, nearly pinching it shut as it became a human butt plug. My view was now framed directly through his ass crack, guiding my gaze up his pale back to the greasy man-bun blocking the ceiling. The weight of his massive left testicle pressed against my closed lips, causing them to part against my will. Tony gently nudged it into my waiting mouth with his fingers, stretching it beyond its normal capacity.
At that moment, I felt utterly emasculated, consumed by the reality of another man's testicle stuffed in my mouth and the sheer size of Tony. This was a stark contrast to the fantasy I had imagined while pursuing my desire to give oral sex. I wasn’t meant to be in this position, enduring such intense humiliation while gasping for breath. It seemed he was determined to make me pay for the vague “only interested in giving oral” label I had carelessly included on my profile, dragging me through a level of degradation I had never anticipated.
Descriptions only go so far, and the best way to capture this moment is with a physical prop because words alone will never fully convey how massive Tony was. If you’re up for it, pause your reading, head to the fridge, and grab a Grade-A egg, preferably a jumbo one. Don’t worry; your significant other won’t notice it missing. Are you back? Now, go ahead and stuff that egg into your mouth. Open wide and keep it there. That’s it. Don’t worry, no one’s watching. Pretty big, huh? This is as close as you’ll get to understanding what I dealt with, short of experiencing Tony firsthand.
I struggled to consume him, my vulnerable position providing no relief as he alternated between stuffing each testicle into my mouth. Each reentry elicited a feminine grunt from him as my mouth stretched to its limits. My breathing was restricted, with only fleeting moments to catch my breath between what felt like a cruel game. Tony deliberately kept each ball in place just long enough to make me squirm, forcing me to seek oxygen through my nose, wedged between his butt crack, as I fought against the suffocating pressure.
The head of his still-flaccid cock hung down past his balls, occasionally brushing against my chin and neck with his movements. His limp state was a clear sign that the current action was more about humiliating me than inducing pleasure. “Do you like my balls, Steve?” he taunted, his voice muffled by his body. I responded with a muted mumble of agreement before he swiftly lifted himself onto his tiptoes and stepped back, causing the ceiling to come back into view. His abrupt stop felt like part of a pattern, as if he were following a timed schedule.
As I looked up at an upside-down Tony, still clad in his rainbow tank top, I struggled to catch my breath and process the shame of what had just happened. Suddenly, he shifted to the left, moving toward the desk and the grimy yellow chair. “Come here,” he commanded. I rolled over and slowly pushed myself to my feet, the blood rushing back into my body from my head that had hung off the bed, causing me to stumble as I fought to regain my balance like a boxer getting off the mat. Before I could fully steady myself, Tony sunk into the yellow chair, releasing another feminine grunt as he did.
I hesitated before stepping toward the chair just a few feet away. The grin on Tony's face and the way his legs naturally opened made my next instruction clear. His balls, still glistening with my saliva, rested against the stained yellow fabric of the grimy chair, which had likely borne witness to countless scenarios like the one about to unfold. Dropping to my knees, barely a foot from his flaccid cock draped over his balls, I struggled to reconcile the sight of the man attached to it peering at me through his oversized glasses. My gaze flickered between his cock and the discolored fabric, deliberately avoiding his eyes.
Time seemed to stand still. Despite Tony having already shattered my self-image beyond repair, I knelt on the grimy carpet, anxiously awaiting his command. The embodiment of my desires over the past decade was now just inches from my face. Even after everything he had put me through, it felt surreal to realize that I hadn't even touched his cock yet. Though I could physically overpower this twenty-two-year-old twink with ease, I was trembling, desperate for the nearly footlong kielbasa I had witnessed the night before to reappear. My nervous anticipation echoed every degrading act he had already subjected me to.
Tony shattered the silence with a provocative question: “What do you think your wife would say right now, Steve?” His words struck me like a lightning bolt, sending a jolt through my body and causing my heart to skip a beat. I looked up at him, his wry smile and piercing gaze amplified by his glasses. The mention of Amy, now a tool for his taunting, brought me back to the harsh reality of my situation. Stunned and at a loss for words, I shifted nervously, feeling the grime of the carpet pressing uncomfortably into my knees.
“Show me what she looks like,” he demanded, cutting me off before I could acknowledge his previous comment. Paralyzed by shock and compelled to comply, my hand moved almost involuntarily into my shorts pocket. At that moment, Tony was the puppet master, and I was his puppet, helplessly following his lead. I fumbled with my phone, nervously unlocking it with my thumbprint and navigating to my messages before hesitantly expanding the selfie Amy had sent just minutes earlier. The situation had suddenly turned personal.
“Oh, my goodness, she’s cute,” Tony remarked, his lisp becoming more pronounced as I turned the phone toward him. He snatched it from my hand, bringing it closer to his face for a better look. After studying the picture momentarily, he flashed a taunting smirk and said, “Nice work, Steve.” Fully aware of how unsettling it was to lose control of my phone and have my wife suddenly thrust into this moment, he reveled in the discomfort he was causing. “Aww, it’s a girl!” he exclaimed, his eyes sparkling with mischief as he took notice of the pink paint samples Amy displayed in the picture, which only intensified my guilt.
“How far along is she?” he asked, leaning back in the chair and widening his legs, a gesture that only served to emphasize his dominance. His inquiry felt more like a taunt than a genuine question. Suddenly, his limp cock began to rise from his hefty balls, still slick with my saliva, seemingly stirred by the weight of my guilt and the thought of Amy. I hesitated for a moment, my heart racing. “Eight months,” I finally managed to reply, my voice barely above a whisper, but I could tell he didn’t care about my response. His playful smirk never wavered, as if my answer was irrelevant in the grand scheme of things.
“That’s great!” he exclaimed, his taunting exuberance fading into the background as I became entranced by the transformation of his flaccid seven-inch cock into its infamous near-foot-long length in just seconds. Instinctively, I reached for my phone, desperate to shift the focus away from Amy. However, my attempt was thwarted when he slapped my hand away.
Tony pulled the phone away from his face but didn’t return it to me. Instead, he turned it around, screen facing outward, and propped it against his stomach just above his belly button, secured by the hem of his flamboyant tank top. “I think she wants to watch,” he taunted, a wicked grin spreading across his face as Amy's image unwittingly became the backdrop to the fully erect kielbasa now pointed directly at my face, its mushroom helmet seeping pre-cum. “What do you want to do, Steve?” he asked abruptly, the air conditioner cutting off and plunging the room into near silence as he looked down at me, awaiting my response.
“I want to suck your cock,” I muttered, my desperate plea echoing in the silent room as I stared down the barrel of Tony’s fully loaded salami doing everything I could to avoid locking eyes with the digital image of my wife resting against the rainbow backdrop of his stomach. Words that felt foreign just a day ago flowed effortlessly from my mouth, the shame of voicing my desire melting away.
“Tell her what you want to do, Steve,” he commanded, his eyes behind his thick glasses urging me to focus on the phone. “I want to suck his cock,” I blurted out as Amy stared back at me, almost as if she were there in person, my voice trembling. “Say her name, naughty boy,” he taunted with a smirk. “I want to suck his cock, Amy,” I responded without hesitation, feeling every ounce of shame dissolve into the air around me.
“It’s all yours, Steve,” he said with a giggle, reclining as far back as the crusty chair would allow, spreading his legs wide within the limits of the chair’s arms. He laced his hands behind his head, exposing his bare armpits, my phone resting in plain view on his stomach, moving up and down with his breath. My momentary hesitation, triggered by the sight of Amy staring back at me, quickly faded. Instinctively, I reached out with both hands, pausing briefly before wrapping them around Tony, his massive mushroom cap still protruding from my double-fisted masculine grip.
Hands typically reserved for handling some of the most advanced weaponry on the planet were now reduced to gripping Tony’s thick, beefy cock. The unfamiliar sensation of another man in my hands was overwhelming, almost embarrassing. I began to stroke him. “Oh, that feels good,” he taunted, his voice oozing satisfaction, fueled by the discomfort he knew I felt with Amy’s image staring back at me. With each stroke, the swollen mushroom head, too large to be covered by my double-fisted grip, began to glisten as beads of pre-cum accumulated on the tip, thick and slick, growing with every pull.
“Look at her, Steve,” Tony commanded, directing my gaze past his gigantic salami toward his stomach, where Amy stared back at me. My attention was split between her, witnessing the downfall of the man she wouldn’t even recognize, and the increasingly explicit scene unfolding before me. “Ohh, yes, Steve, lube it up!” Tony yelled, his lisp-laced voice mixing with the wet, lewd sounds now filling the room. The rhythmic squelching of my hand sliding up and down his thick shaft, as wide as a shaving cream can, became a steady cadence. At the apex of each stroke, I caught the warm, thick pre-cum pooling at the tip, glistening under the light. With each pass, his cock grew progressively juicier, creating a vivid symphony of slickness that filled the room.
“Do you like my cock, Steve?” he taunted, his grin evident in my peripheral vision. I was too distracted to realize my hands were now completely coated in Tony’s pre-cum; all I could manage was a breathless, “Oh my God.” Captivated by his sheer size, my eagerness intensified as I lifted my arms, resting my elbows on his spread thighs, and began to stroke him faster, my instincts taking over. Treating Tony’s cock like a new toy on Christmas morning, I explored every inch of his massive member, stroking its entire near-foot-long length with a desperation that felt foreign to the man I once was.
“Put your mouth on it,” he commanded, and my hands froze mid-stroke as I stared down the glistening barrel of the type of wiener I had dreamt about for a decade, quickly realizing the shift in expectation. My ultimate fantasy was about to come to fruition. “Keep stroking,” he added, snapping my hands back into motion as I leaned forward, my mouth hovering just inches from his cock. Hesitation crept in, the scent of his pre-cum filling my nose. I glanced up at his acne-scarred face, grinning from ear to ear, then down past the phone where Amy still watched. My eyes settled on his enormous flesh helmet, and I moved closer, feeling a pull that defied my will.
My mouth opened as I moved in, hesitating briefly as my entire life up to that moment flashed through my mind. I took one final glance at Amy on the screen, still staring at me from the phone propped up on Tony, her expression an unsettling blend of shame and encouragement. Finally, I wrapped my lips around his mushroom tip, drawing a feminine grunt. The foreign taste of his pre-cum hit my tongue, a strange, tangible sensation I had only experienced through the screen and could have never prepared for. As I stretched the corners of my mouth to take him in, new textures, tastes, and smells overwhelmed my senses. Tony, arms still behind his head, wore a broad smile as he looked down at the latest straight man he had broken, savoring every second of my submission and relishing the culmination of ten years of desperation I had suddenly unleashed on his cock helmet.
"Keep stroking," Tony commanded, his lispy voice a blend of authority and satisfaction, compelling my hands back into their double-fisted rhythm. My lips remained sealed around his swollen tip, struggling to adjust to his girth. I quickly realized the pre-cum gathering on his meaty tip had no escape but into my mouth. His essence seeped in with each pull, warm and slick, filling me more with every upward stroke. The salty flavor coated my tongue, creating an overwhelming urgency as it pooled. Filled to capacity, I had no choice but to let it spill out, trickling down his cock, cascading over his hefty balls, and pooling beneath us in the disgusting chair.
“Oh, Steve, so sloppy!” he taunted, as I remained attached to his kielbasa like it was a lifeline. My double-fisting motion, now enhanced by the slick combination of saliva and pre-cum, began to elicit genuine moans of pleasure from Tony as I looked up at him, doing my best to avoid the image of Amy still staring at me from my phone. He peered down through his glasses, his acne scars more pronounced under the dim light. “Holy shit!” he screamed, his moans acknowledging my effort, the sound of his juices swirling in my mouth blending with his satisfied groans. His mouth opened in a wide grin, revealing his snaggled teeth as he reveled in the sight of my submission, and in that moment, I suddenly yearned to please the man attached to the cock.
“Oh fuck, Steve!” Tony shouted as the air conditioner hummed back to life, blending with the symphony of slurping sounds and his moans. He lowered his arms from behind his head and patted me on the head, mockingly and oddly affectionately, before removing the phone from his stomach. He turned it around to take one last look at the screen with a sly grin before glancing back down at me, still attached to him. Like every other act we’d performed so far, Tony abruptly ended it as though he were operating on some internal schedule.
Placing the phone down on the arm of the chair, Tony’s hands gripped the sides of my head, gently but firmly pushing me off his cock. “Let’s go over to the bed,” he said, his tone calm and matter-of-fact, moving on without hesitation. I used his skinny, pale thighs to push off as I rose to my feet, catching a brief glimpse of him still seated, his gaze fixed on me. As he stood, I wiped my saliva and pre-cum-coated hands on my shirt, smearing the mess onto the fabric and unintentionally shaming the service I represented. I brushed off the bits of lint and dust from my knees, the filthy carpet beneath me a stark reminder of the seedy place where Tony had stolen my manhood.
He walked past me, leaving me standing by the chair, a swirl of anticipation and confusion coursing through my veins. Moving to the foot of the bed, he retrieved the worn towel he had previously spread out, its frayed edges betraying its countless uses. As he reached the side of the bed, he fanned the grimy towel over the pillow, a taunting smile creeping across his face as he glanced back at me. His gaze directed me silently, conveying his intention without the need for words, urging me to lie down on the bed and submit to whatever was about to unfold.
I hesitated before climbing back onto the bed, mirroring my earlier movements and resting my head on the grimy, towel-covered pillow, conveniently angled at a forty-five-degree tilt. I had seen enough porn to anticipate what was about to happen, yet I still found myself in denial about the reality of the situation. Tony stood at the foot of the bed, hands on his hips, grinning as he waited for me to settle in. His cock remained fully erect, slick with the mix of saliva and pre-cum I had created, glistening under the harsh light.
“Put your arms by your side,” he commanded. I complied immediately, positioning my arms beside me like a rigid board. My horizontal position made it impossible to hide the hard-on straining against my basketball shorts, which paled in comparison to Tony’s impressive size. Although only half his length and girth, it was the only thing standing between lust and shameful regret, fueling my fantasy even though I knew its eventual release would plunge me into shame I’d carry for the rest of my life. As I lay there, nerves tightened in my chest, causing my breathing to become shallow. A mix of anticipation and anxiety left me feeling exposed and vulnerable. My body was tense as I watched Tony slowly begin to close the distance between us.
“Someone’s excited!” he playfully exclaimed, noticing my shorts as he approached. He knee-walked toward me, climbing me like a ladder, his legs parting mine. I was entranced, unable to look away as the rock-hard kielbasa advanced toward me in what felt like slow motion. As he drew nearer, I began to open my mouth, eager to accept him even before he crossed my torso. The glistening mushroom head that topped his gigantic salami moved closer, stopping just short of insertion into my mouth, leaving me there pathetically with my awaiting mouth wide open. Finally, he settled down on my chest, bearing the total weight of his 110-pound twink frame.
Looking up, I met Tony's gaze as he peered down at me, his hands now firmly planted on his hips. He flashed a teasing grin, one final taunt before he paused, the engorged mushroom head hovering just above my lips. Then, with a sudden movement, he nudged forward, stuffing my mouth with his impressive girth. As he pushed in, a loud moan escaped his lips, echoing in the air. With nowhere for my head to go, now nearly pressed against the headboard, I was left in a vulnerable position, desperately trying to please him. I swished his head around in my packed mouth the best way I knew how, feeling the enormous tip stretch my lips as the tangy taste of his pre-cum was quickly reintroduced, mixing with my saliva as I instinctively began to work my tongue around his mushroom.
A couple of minutes passed before Tony, suddenly growing impatient, seized his shaft with his right hand. He pulled out just enough to create a bridge of pre-cum between my mouth and the tip of his cock before reinserting it with the same rhythm he had used when he had stuffed his gigantic testicles into my mouth. With each extraction, he let out a playful giggle, clearly enjoying the lewd sounds echoing in the room. As he began to jerk himself off with a steady motion, the slick mix of our combined juices squelched with each stroke. Each thrust of his nearly footlong shaft released a generous dollop of pre-cum into my mouth, serving as a stark reminder of what was to come. Although I had always known how this would inevitably end, I remained in denial as Tony unleashed a series of degrading taunts that would forever haunt me.
"Are you ready for my sperm, Steve?" Tony teased, stuffing his swollen tip back into my mouth, forcing my reply into a muffled, pathetic mumble. I glanced up at him, the overhead light catching the rainbow pattern of his tank top, which only amplified the exaggerated "s" in the word "sperm" as it slipped from his lisp-laden voice. "Do you want my cum?" he demanded, louder this time, his gaze shifting to the ceiling as his hand quickened its rhythm. From my vantage point, I could see his crooked smile growing wider with each feminine grunt, his body responding to his own stimulation as he reveled in his dominance.
I quickly realized how ill-prepared I was for this moment as I found myself in the very position of the hundreds of female porn stars I one day envisioned swapping places with during their finishing scenes. The impossible search criteria I had once counted on to shield me from this reality had utterly failed. As Tony pulled himself out of my mouth and looked down, waiting for an answer, I instinctively let out a “fuck yes!” a response driven purely by cruel hormones and the pathetic hard-on threatening to explode in my shorts.
“Oh yes, Steve, you are a nasty boy,” Tony yelled, his hand jerking his cock with a rhythm that, as a man, I recognized as unsustainable. I knew he was close, and the moment I had been both dreading and craving was almost upon me, the cherry on top of my transformation. Despite the nervousness gnawing at me, I felt a strange acceptance, even pride, in knowing I was about to be the one he would finish on. I thought back to the desperate tension of the day, the anxiety of each phone refresh, praying for his response. Now, all of that had led me here, and I felt lucky in this twisted way. I was so horny at that moment I would have done anything. My mouth stayed open as Tony continued to stroke his flesh-toned shaving cream can aimed at me. “It’s going to be a lot,” he giggled, the wry smile just visible from my peripheral vision as I focused on his bare midriff.
My focus on Tony shifted as he adjusted his legs, which had been positioned outside my arms. He suddenly moved them inward, pinning me beneath him, wrapping his legs around my arms down to my wrists like anacondas immobilizing their prey. Shifting his weight back a few inches, he sat lower on my chest, his 110-pound frame in the exact spot that limited my lateral movement. My head was now pressed against the headboard, trapped on all sides, entirely at the mercy of a twink with a fully loaded footlong salami. With his engorged mushroom now out of reach from my mouth, Tony continued stroking himself without missing a beat, his control over the situation growing with every motion.
Ready to accept my fate, I relaxed under his firm restraint, concentrating on syncing each pull of his cock with any subtle audible cue that might signal the first rope of twink glue about to shoot from his beef cannon toward my face. In due time, the air conditioner shut off, plunging the room into a dead silence, save for Tony’s moans and the squishing sound of his shaft, continuously slick from the endless supply of manmade fluid oozing from his helmet. My mind briefly wandered to thoughts of Amy, who was likely swiping a fresh coat of pink paint across the walls at home just as Tony was about to make his masterpiece on her husband. And then, just as I braced for the inevitable, something unexpected happened.
As Tony continued yanking himself, I watched in confusion as his left arm suddenly disappeared behind him. Before I could fully process what was happening, I felt his hand grasp the top of my hard-on, beginning to play with me with his fingers through my shorts. The unexpected contact sent a surge of anxiety through me, making my heart race with a mix of confusion and dread. Instinctively, I bucked my chest upward, doing everything I could to make him pull his hand away. But my efforts were futile. Tony tightened his grip around my arms with his legs, pressing more of his weight strategically onto my chest, immobilizing me even more than I already had been.
My initial plea was silenced as Tony stuffed his swollen tip back into my mouth. The hard-on I had resisted touching since meeting him, the driving fuel behind this twisted encounter, was now dangerously close to erupting beyond my control. “Yee-haw!” he exclaimed playfully, releasing his grip from my cock and raising his hand in the air like a bull rider as I bucked beneath him. My body thrashed under his control, but his tiny frame mirrored my movements effortlessly, staying firmly in place. Trapped, I suddenly surrendered, accepting my fate, ready to go along with whatever he had planned. The dread of climaxing before he was done with me hit like a wave of fear, far more intense than anything I’d felt before. The usual guilt I felt after indulging in my secret fantasies was nothing compared to the overwhelming shame that would consume me if I lost control now.
Tony’s arm snaked back down behind him, his fingers again wrapping around the tent in my shorts while his other hand continued to jerk himself off into my mouth. I fought not to climax, but my body ultimately succumbed to his unplanned touch. After hours of building tension, the blue balls that had ached for release took over, and I lost control as it started gushing out against my will. His flesh helmet muffled my moans, amplifying the shame I felt as I came. With each squirt into my shorts, the lust left my body, replaced by an exponential rush of guilt that settled deeper within me. Sensing my climax, Tony tightened his grip around my head, releasing a taunting giggle at my release. I had never cum so hard in my life, yet the weight of my shame overshadowed every wave of pleasure.
As Tony released his grip on me, the remnants of my remains dribbled out unassisted into my shorts, my passion and lust for the bisexual lifestyle evaporating in an instant as my cock pulsated from the aftermath. I looked up helplessly at Tony, who gazed down at me with a different grin, hinting at a first-hand knowledge of the regret that came with my release, a sentiment he had experienced enough times to recognize. Undeterred, he used his free hand, the very one that had just shattered my will, to join his gigantic kielbasa. With a steady rhythm, he began double-fisting himself, his head still firmly lodged in my mouth.
Regret crashed over me like a wave as images of Amy flooded my mind, but Tony’s grunts quickly drowned out my thoughts. “Oh shit!” he yelled, pumping himself with both hands into my stuffed mouth, utterly indifferent to my feelings. “Oh Steve, I’m gonna cum!” he shouted again, abruptly slowing his rhythm and removing his left hand from his salami. My heart raced as I looked up at him, his head tilted back and mouth open, revealing crooked teeth with metal braces that gleamed in the light. An unmistakable expression spread across his acne-scarred face, signaling the inevitable.
“Ugggg!” Tony screeched, his high-pitched, almost melodic feminine grunt perfectly synchronized with a powerful jet of sperm that struck the back of my throat like a liquid missile. The force of his release magnified my shame, leaving me feeling utterly trapped, pinned against the headboard at the mercy of his dominance. My head slammed back, the pillow offering little protection as my body reacted to his initial barrage, instinctively trying to pull away from the onslaught. Just as I was reeling from the first wave, another grunt escaped his lips. In a sudden twist, he pulled out mid-shot, the output of his second rope of cum filling my mouth, with its remainder splattering squarely between my eyes.
I began to cough involuntarily, struggling to adjust to the first shot that still lingered at the back of my throat. Just then, a third powerful rope erupted from his kielbasa, skipping off my forehead and splattering against the headboard behind me, the noise echoing in the quiet room. I could feel his heavy balls, still resting on my chest, shift as they reloaded his cum cannon. “Oh, God!” Tony exclaimed, his voice laced with pleasure. A fourth shot struck me squarely in my left eye, causing me to turn my head to the right instinctively. This movement placed me directly in the path of a fifth shot, which hit me in the right eye with the same relentless velocity as the first, sealing my eyes shut and completely blinding me in a warm burst of humiliation.
I’d have done anything for this to end, to somehow vanish from Tony’s room and reappear in my own, where I could drown in my regret and bad decisions alone. But instead, everything seemed to move in slow motion, each second dragging out and prolonging an agony that had been lust just moments ago. The desire that once consumed me had vanished, left behind in the gooey mess now soaking into my basketball shorts through my underwear as my cock retreated in shame from Tony’s forced touch. My eyes were glued shut by his barrage, but his grunts ensued, echoing through the room. He continued to unload onto my face, each squirt somehow finding a spot he hadn’t already covered in what felt like a punishment that would never end.
Suddenly, his mushroom head pressed forcefully against my lips, and I opened my mouth to take him in, as if I had any other option. He grunted again, sealing my mouth shut as the dwindling force of his fountain released its last remains inside me. Through the semen-laced fog clouding my vision, the familiar squishing sounds of Tony stroking himself filled the room, squeezing out the final drops from his grapefruit-sized balls. Even with my sight blurred, I could sense his shadow looming above me. I didn’t need to see his smirk to know it was there, the moment lingering as he paused, giving me time to process what had just happened.
"Woo, what a mess," he taunted with a giggle. The pressure from his legs against my sides suddenly subsided as he untangled his hold, freeing my restricted arms. Instinctively, I reached for the towel beside my head, yanking it over my face in a desperate attempt to clean off the mess and restore my vision, as if that would somehow bring my dignity back. My eyes still stung as my sight returned, just in time to watch Tony’s near-footlong salami returning to its seven-inch flaccid state before my very eyes. He remained straddled over me, hands on his hips, that same shit-eating grin now embedded in my soul.
Finally, Tony dismounted me and climbed off the bed, leaving me sprawled like a human Jackson Pollock painting, splattered with semen. He glanced back at me, wearing the same expression from the night before, his look silently indicating that it was time for me to leave. "That was fun, Steve; welcome to the club," he said, his grin fading into a more serious look. He paused at the bathroom door for what felt like ten seconds, giving me one last chance to take in the man-bunned twink who had just altered my life. With a final grin, he disappeared into the bathroom. As he moved away, his voice echoed over his shoulder, "See yourself out; it was nice meeting you," barely audible over the sound of the shower turning on.
I lay there for a moment to collect my thoughts, the sound of the shower penetrating the thin wall and blending with the chaotic thoughts swirling in my mind. After gathering myself, I rolled off the bed and sat on the edge, my feet flat on the floor as I tried to process everything that had just happened. My vertical position now caused Tony's remains to drip down my face, so I grabbed the rough, cheap towel, struggling to wipe my skin clean. The worn fabric was thin and scratchy, and instead of absorbing his juices, it smeared them further across my face, creating streaks that felt like a permanent reminder of my degradation.
As I rose to my feet, my eyes were drawn to the headboard, where Tony’s second rope, clearly missing its intended target, clung to the wood. The opaque goo dripped slowly down the dusty surface, each droplet a stark reminder of my degradation. It was almost as if he had intentionally missed, contemplating my shame at this moment. The headboard served as a symbolic tombstone to my submission, a silent testament to my new sexual identity, marking the irreversible shift of what I had become.
Gathering myself, I grabbed my phone off the arm of the chair and made my way toward the door, desperate to escape, pretending that I could compartmentalize what had happened and forget it all once I left the room. However, I was cruelly confronted by the full-length mirror hanging on the back of the door, forcing me to face the unrecognizable man staring back at me. The wet spot from Tony’s unwanted extraction had seeped through my underwear, leaving a large stain on the crotch of my basketball shorts. Yet, that was the least of my shame as I struggled to meet my gaze, facing the broken man Tony had left in his wake for the first time.
The sound of Tony washing away the remnants of the evening through the bathroom door faded into white noise as I fixated on my reflection. Spots of his sperm that I had missed with the towel clung to my face, while my goatee became ground zero for an embarrassing magnet for his essence. The harsh glare from the cheap can light in the foyer only intensified the smeared cum I wore as a mask, creating a striking contrast against my flushed complexion. I was an absolute mess, unable to bear the sight of myself for another moment, acutely aware that I would never again look in the mirror without reliving the memories of the man who stared back at me in that instant.
Taking one last look at myself, I pulled the door open and shut it behind me, bracing for the 500-foot walk of shame that lay ahead. I knew my life would never be the same. In a few days, I would go home to my pregnant wife, and a month from now, I would be a father, burdened with the shame of this evening for the rest of my life.
