Tim's Tale Pt. 01

It was Friday night and I was all alone, bored laying on my bed watching stupid reality repeats on Bravo. My roommate hadn't gotten home from work yet. We had plans for the weekend but my heart just wasn't in it. I really wanted to do something different. Out of the ordinary. And I was horny. As a gay man, I have no attraction whatsoever to other gay men. I wanted a man. A real red-blooded beer drinking football watching truck driving pussy eating heterosexual man to service. There're a few of them out there. Ones that know they can fuck a man and not be gay. They know a good thing when they come across it. They know a natural born cocksucker will do a much better job and likes to do it more than their girlfriends. And they don't have to mind their manners.

Much to my delight, an unexpected text message popped up on my cellphone with an invitation to join a friend to hear some live music at a nearby club. It was from Timothy. A very cool straight guy I had met watching football games at a neighborhood bar a couple of years ago who had recently moved into my neighborhood. I was intrigued by him from the moment I saw him. Tall and slender with swarthy good looks. Interesting and atypical. Mysterious with a sharp, biting wit. We got along well from the start. He must have known I was into him. I'm certainly not shy about flirting with straight men, in fact I love to. And he toyed with me in a way that just made me want to obey him. I'm usually assertive with people but he turned me into a heaping pile of submission. I kept my private fantasies about him simmering on the back burner while our friendship developed. I happily jumped on my bicycle and headed to the club.

It was good to see him and we enjoyed our drinks and conversation while the band was finishing their set. He had lots of friends at the bar, all straight and almost just as hot as he was. I could have stayed there all night. Sitting on the stool next to me, he nudged me with his elbow and held out his hand, "Here're my keys. You know where my house is. Go into the basement below the kitchen and bring me back my wallet. I forgot it and I need to settle the bill." I took them dutifully, excited to be able to run this errand for him.

The house was just down the street from the bar. His furnishings were very tasteful which belied his brusque manner. As I passed through the bedroom, I had to stop to examine some of his belongings. A pair of dirty jeans was lying on the bed and I stopped to immerse my face into them, breathing deeply remembering their position to put them back where I found them. A pair of his sneakers with worn socks lay clumsily on the floor by the bed. Jackpot. I took what little time I could get away with inhaling the essence of his musky scent. I knew I had to get back soon. I went through the kitchen and down a wooden staircase that led to the basement. Only one dim hanging bulb illuminated the room. There was hardly anything down there. I looked around for where down here he might keep his wallet. I couldn't find it.

Then I heard something. Footsteps. Quick paced and determined. And laughter. Hard heels pounding the wooden floors above and getting nearer. I must have taken too much time and felt ashamed that I didn't complete the task that I was sent to do. I recognized that laugh. But this time it had a sinister quality that I wasn't used to. The footfalls stopped. I looked up to see Tim, appearing as a black silhouette standing at the top of the stairs.

"Having trouble?"

Embarrassed, I muttered, "I'm sorry, I can't find it."

He approached me in slow deliberate rhythm stepping down the stairs, stopping right in front of me. "Do you really think I sent you down here to get my wallet?"

I was stunned. I didn't know what to say. I just stood there looking up at him and finally managed to utter, "I, I thought you might have forgotten where you left it."

He gave me a haunting look. "You must be more perceptive than that." He hesitated. "You want to know what I think? I think you know what's about to happen to you. Not only that, I think you're looking forward to it." He cracked his knuckles.

"I don't know what you're talking about. And you're starting to scare me."

He started laughing to himself. "Don't play stupid with me, boy. Do you really think I haven't noticed you looking at me when you think I'm unaware? I see you eyeing my crotch, looking at my thighs and at my feet. You're a desperate and pathetic fag." He pushed me down by the shoulders to the ground, his large shoe pinning my neck down to the floor. My cellphone fell from my pocket and slid across the room. I grabbed his ankle trying to ease some of the pressure, struggling to breathe. "I'm going to make you show me how much you like my feet, how much you want them. That is what you want, huh, bitch?" I didn't answer. "Take off my shoe," he ordered, "Now!" Struggling against his weight, I untied his shoe, loosened the laces and pulled it off his foot. He pressed his socked foot over my nose and onto my mouth. "Smell my foot, trash." I breathed in the masculine spicy odor, my resistance suddenly weakening. "Disgusting queer. Likes the smell of men's feet. I almost feel sorry for you." He continued to rub his foot all over my face. "Open your mouth, bitch." I slowly did as I was told. He dug his toes between my lips trying to part my teeth. "Smell my stinking foot. You like that, don't you?" As soon as I opened my mouth to respond, he had his foot inside. "That's right. Taste my foot, you nasty bitch. Open your mouth!" He had all his toes pointing into my mouth stretching my lips. "Now, pull the sock off, slowly." I obeyed his command. Then he pressed his warm bare foot evenly over my face. "Open." As I did, he shoved his long toes into my mouth. I licked and sucked all around them, wanting to taste everything about them. He made me do the same thing to his other foot. I had nearly lost all conception of time.

When he'd had enough, he took his socks and used them to tie my wrists and ankles behind my back. Then he knelt down putting his handsome face right over mine. With an intense glare, he took his time hocking up one of the hugest cobs I've ever heard anyone produce from deep within his sinuses. With his large, powerful hands, he separated my chin from my forehead and hurled it into my mouth with the force of a tsunami. It echoed throughout the empty room. I had no choice but to let it squirm its way down my throat.

He stood up, gathered up his shoes and headed toward the staircase, leaving me laying bound on the floor. Then he turned to say, "I'm not finished with you." With that, he left the basement. Moments later I heard his heavy footsteps again, this time getting farther away and ending with the slam of the front door.

I couldn't tell how much time had gone by since he left me there alone. My limbs were beginning to ache from the awkward position I was tied in and I was getting cold. I just wished he would come back. He knew his leaving me alone would make me want him all the more. I enjoyed his cruelty while he was there to dispense it, but without him it was difficult to bear. I wanted to hate him for it but I couldn't. Now I needed him.

Finally I heard the front door slam; again the pound of footsteps getting nearer. This time there were more than one. As they got nearer I could tell that there were many more. And men laughing. Loud drunken laughter. I heard the door several times. Many male voices and more of those hard footsteps on the floor above, having a good time. There was lots of drinking going on. The laughter was getting louder amidst the din of clinking bottles.

The anticipation was excruciating. What did he mean he was not finished with me? I hoped that these were his same friends from the bar, a few of them so hot I had not been able to forget, their images as clear in my mind as a photograph. Could it be possible? Did they even know I was there?

My torment at last came to an abrupt halt. The door at the top of the stairs swung open, the light from the kitchen pouring down, Timothy's long arm on the doorknob.

"There it is fella's. Take a look at your perverted little cock loving cum sucking bitch boy, there to use however you please, my gift to all of you. He's been down there all this time by himself. He's got to be thirsty for company by now."

One by one they filed down the stairs toward me until I was surrounded by men. Beautiful hot straight men. I was in a sea of sneakers and bulging jeans, hairy muscled legs in cargo shorts and flip-flops. All of them drunk, rubbing their crotches determined to fuck something, and I was their bukkake boy.

Timothy made his way to the center of the circle and up righted me onto my knees. "I bet you're thirsty, you dirty little faggot. Aren't you?!"

"Yes."

"Yes, what?" He held the back of my head by the hair.

"Yes, Sir."

"These are my friends, you cock whore, and you're going to take care of every one of them, do you hear me?"

"Yes, Sir."

"They're going to use you like the toilet you are, understand?"

I was too scared to answer. I couldn't believe what I knew was about to happen. The last thing I remember hearing was the unbuckling of belts and zippers coming down. Then all I heard was the splashing torrent of their many streams of hot piss all over my face and chest.

"Open his mouth!"

Two of the men stood on each side of me and held my mouth open by the teeth. Then my mouth was filled with their hot salty urine running all the way down my body. I could hardly breathe.

"Hold his nose."

One of the men pinched my nostrils. I had no choice but to swallow if I wanted to stay alive. I had to gulp it down as fast as it was filling my mouth. They were laughing through it all. It tasted bad, dull and salty, but not as bad as I thought it would. It took all my strength of mind over matter to continue until finally all the guys' beer-filled bladders were drained and the flow of piss stopped.

"Now what do you say?"

I looked at Tim confused not knowing the answer.

"Say thank you for letting me drink all your piss."

"Thank you for letting me drink all your piss."

"Untie him and dry him off, then bring him over here." Tim motioned to the staircase.

Several of the men cut the knotted wet socks off of my wrists and ankles. I was stripped of my wet clothes down to my briefs. One of the friends that I liked the most gently dried me off with a towel, almost lovingly. Too stiff to walk yet, they carried me to the staircase and laid me on my back, feet over head hanging down at cock level. Timothy supervised the restraining of my arms and legs leaving me practically upside down and immobilized. The others stood around and watched as Tim positioned his crotch right in front of my face. I could feel the heat from his jeans as he pressed his hardening bulge onto my face.

"I hope you're ready to take some big dick down your throat, cocksucker. And if you aren't, there really isn't much you can do about it, is there?" He needn't have worried himself about that, though; I was completely ready and could hardly wait. I was about to come just having that crotch staring me in the face. Then he pulled out his semi-hard cock through the zipper hanging it right in front of my mouth and nose.

"Open your mouth. Wide. And if you even think about biting me I will hurt you."

I did as I was told.

Still not fully erect, the cock head nearly filled my mouth. He steadily worked it to the back of my throat several times preparing me to go deep. Then with one skillful thrust, he got the whole huge cock embedded deep down my throat. The others were amazed to see my throat expand in my neck as it went all the way down. I knew they wished this was something their girlfriends could do. He didn't move for a while as he allowed my throat to adjust to the onslaught. All I could feel was the pressure of his hard cock periodically throbbing in my throat as he let it expand my airway. With the timing of an expert, he pulled out just in time for me to catch my breath. I took a huge gasp of air.

"Something tells me this boy's done this before. You like sucking cock, huh boy?"

I nodded with watery eyes.

"How long you've been sucking men's cocks, bitch?"

"Since I was twelve."

Turning to his on looking friends, "He's still a bit dry. Spit in his mouth." One by one the guys hocked up their biggest cobs and spit them into my mouth. One even plugged a nostril and blew his snot right in. Now my mouth was almost full.

"Take it down, faggot."

I swallowed the thick liquid down in a couple of gulps. Then he undid his belt letting his jeans fall around his ankles. He stepped out of them, kicked them aside and got himself into perfect position.

"Deep breath. Hold it. Open."

This time his hard cock slid more easily down my throat. Like a pro, he used the spit to lube my throat and open it up like the tightest of cunts. Now he began to thrust. In no time he was pumping his cock all the way down to the balls in and out of my gaping throat. He slowly pulled out. A backwash of thick deep throat juice poured out of my mouth and down onto my face.

"Good boy."

Now the others were gathering around anxious to get their turn. I was pulling hard on the restraints at my wrists.

"Free his hands."

Now when the next one started to fuck me, I could guide him with my hands on the backs of his thighs and ass. This went on for what seemed like hours, one hot big dicked straight dude after the other taking turns fucking my throat like it was their favorite pussy.

God, if I could only see them gang fucking me like this! I had to ask in between cocks, "Sir, may I have a mirror for back here and a pillow for my neck, please?" I was sure I was going to get a permanent dent on the back of my neck from the edge of the hard stair.

"Why?" he replied, "So you can see yourself getting face fucked by all of us?"

"Yes. Please, Sir. Please, may I have a mirror and a pillow?"

He thought it over. "I don't see why not. How do you like that, guys? This faggot wants to watch himself being used. You really are one sick, twisted bitch, you know that?" He went up the stairs and returned shortly carrying a square framed mirror and a pillow under his arm. He lifted my head by the hair and stuffed the pillow under my neck. Then he positioned the mirror so I could watch myself upside down getting gang raped down the throat by all these magnificent men. One of the most beautiful of them stepped up to be the first to fulfill my request. He was tall and lean, naturally muscular with a perfect tan and the sexiest body hair I had ever seen. He was stroking his big cock just waiting to get a go at me. I opened my jaws as wide as I could for him inviting him to approach. He positioned himself perfectly; his big cock having a straight shot directly down the throat. Then he let me have it. He sunk that gorgeous hard cock down to the balls. I reached behind him grabbing his hard ass, pulling him into me as far as he would go, his ball sack covering my nose. Now I could see the back of his hairy legs and the perfectly shaped muscles of his hot ass thrusting into me, his big hanging balls slapping me on the face. It was so fucking hot I could hardly stand it. He pulled out for me to breathe.

"Fuck me. Just keep fucking me," I pleaded, pulling the backs of his thighs back into my face. I could tell it stroked his ego that I was more turned on by him than the others so far. He wanted to give his best performance.

"You like that? You like that big straight cock fucking your throat?"

"God, yes. You're perfect. I'll do whatever you say. Whatever you want. Just don't stop fucking me."

That flawless specimen of man continued to plow his cock down my throat with precise, masterful rhythm. Sometimes thrusting, sometimes slow. Sometimes he'd just sink it and not move at all, knowing exactly when I needed to come up for air. And I got to see it happening to me in the mirror.

The others were crowding around impatient for their turn which made it all the more exciting for me. The hornier they got, the more verbal they got. Different men were saying things like, "Fuck him." "Yeah, fuck him good." "Take that cock, bitch." I could hardly believe the greatest sexual fantasy of my lifetime was actually taking place, and it was much better than I had ever imagined.

Then something very surprising suddenly happened, but I was the only one surprised. A bright amber colored light was instantly turned on. Through my watery vision I could see Timothy perched halfway up a ladder positioning what looked like a stage spotlight. A tripod holding an expensive looking video camera had been placed in front of the staircase and it was focused right on me. This is what they had all planned to do. I remembered a conversation we had when Tim told me he had studied filmmaking in college. A rush of panic swept through me as I thought about my job and family. But I put that out of my mind immediately. I wasn't going to let being a documented cock whore ruin my wildest fantasy come true. And besides, I wanted a copy for myself.

They continued taking turns fucking me in the face one after the other while Timothy got it all on tape from many different angles.

"Make him eat you asses," Tim directed.

The first one bent over putting his dank ass crack right on my face. I lapped it up like a hungry kitten. It was my pleasure to eat his hot straight asshole. I considered it a privilege.

"Lick his ass!"

Then the next one put his hot hairy asshole in my face for me to eat. One after the other, eating ass. I would have been happy to eat all their asses.

I couldn't maintain this position for much longer. The blood was rushing to my head and I was becoming faint.

Tim continued directing. "Alright, take him down now and put him on the mat right here in the center."

Several of the men moved a large wrestling mat to the floor in the middle while others loosened the restraints on my ankles. They carefully laid me down on the mat and encouraged me to sit up slowly. My face was covered with thick deep throat mucus and saliva and it was all up in my hair. My nose was running and my bloodshot eyes were filled with water. They wiped me clean and someone handed me a bottle of beer and a cigarette to smoke. Timothy and a few others seemed to be setting the lighting for another scene. I was allowed to go upstairs to use the bathroom.

I splashed my face with cold water and rested in the bathroom while my lightheadedness faded. Just as I felt back to normal, I was startled by the presence of a mysterious sensation entering into my consciousness; definitely something I had never experienced before. A euphoric state of blissful elation enveloped me, rapidly increasing in intensity. I picked up the almost empty bottle of beer and held it to the light. I had most certainly been drugged with something powerful taking fast effect, and it was absolutely wonderful. I was filled with an overwhelming need to please, taken over by an uncontrollable eagerness to give myself over completely to satisfy, taken possession by a desperate need to get fucked, overpowered with anticipation of what was to come next. I gladly swallowed the rest of the beer in one loving gulp then hurried back down to take my rightful place in what I was born to do.

I could tell they were waiting for me as I descended the staircase. All of the men were standing naked in a semi-circle around the mat stroking their hard cocks. Timothy was up on the ladder, camera ready on his shoulder.

"How are you feeling?"

"Absolutely incredibly un fucking believable."

He nodded slowly giving me a long knowing stare.

No directions were necessary. I knew exactly what I was expected to do. I was down on my haunches at the center of the mat before another moment of this indescribable feeling could be wasted. The circle of men quickly closed in on me.