I Can't Stop Assraping

Until just a few years ago, I was a normal, law-abiding bisexual guy. I had a girlfriend (who is now my wife), with normal hobbies like fishing, woodworking, and Playstation. And I would secretly meet up with guys on the side for things I can't get from my girl. Just like everybody else, huh? But nowadays the hottest part of my sex life is the part I could go to jail for. How did I get here? It's a short, sweet, violent story.

Early one Sunday morning a few Septembers back, I had gone to the local knife shop to pick up a hunting knife I'd had resharpened, a really nice 7-inch German fixed-blade. The knife shop is in a strip mall that never gets a lot of foot traffic, and the early hour meant it was even deader. Apparently all the good citizens were in church. Good for them.

I left the shop in a hurry; I'd had several cups of coffee already, and I needed to piss pretty badly. As I emerged from the shop, I startled a guy who happened to be walking past, in the direction of my car. He jumped noticeably, and I muttered "Sorry, man." But we were headed in the same direction, so we wound up walking more or less side-by-side. Always awkward when that happens, huh?

To avoid making eye contact, I checked him out. He was more lightly built than me, a few inches shorter, and with slightly girlish shoulder-length light hair. The odd thing was the way he was dressed. There was a chill in the air, and the guy was wearing only a thin T-shirt and a pair of those 70s-style athletic shorts. I noticed his nipples poking through the fabric. Feeling my dick stiffen in my jeans, I moved my eyes downwards to his crotch. Hey, he had a semi-hard himself! And I could see a drop of moisture in the fabric... mmmm, he was going commando-style. But why was he out walking around like that?

I dropped back a few steps, which relieved the social tension a little. But it didn't do anything to relieve my sexual tension, as now I got to stare at his butt. His asscheeks were bigger and rounder than I expected, and the shorts didn't quite cover them. Also, there was something odd about his stride. I couldn't quite put my finger on what was strange about the way he was walking. More side-to-side wiggle than normal? A little more pelvic roll? Whatever it was, it was making my cock incredibly stiff. I really wanted to get it out of my jeans. At least I didn't have to pee so bad now.

Then I noticed a rectangular shape inside the guy's shorts, between his cheeks and at the bottom of his asscrack. It was a buttplug! This guy was obviously walking around in public like this, nearly naked and with his anus stretched, for his own sexual gratification. What a little slut! Now there's nothing that gets me hotter than sluts, especially anal sluts. Anyway, that's my excuse for losing control.

I pulled out my freshly sharpened knife and said, "Hey, buddy, take a look at this." He turned, giving me a great profile view of his ass and his protruding cock, and he froze dead in his tracks when he saw the knife. I continued, "You'll turn into this alley if you know what's good for you."

He turned, and I followed, into a narrow alley between a nail salon and an abandoned Subway. There was a small green dumpster there, and I said, "Bend over that dumpster and lift up your right leg." The guy was obviously scared (who wouldn't be?), but he complied. He lifted his leg up onto the dumpster lid, and the fabric of his shorts stretched tight over the base of the buttplug, obviously pushing it deeper into his rectum. His shorts rode up to expose his balls, each protruding from one leg of his shorts.

Now I really lost control. I used the knife to slit his shorts straight down the center, along his asscrack. He was suddenly naked below the waist except for the buttplug, and I immediately grasped it and pulled it slowly out of his anus. The plug was pretty thick and long, and generously lubricated, and his asshole made an obscene squelching noise as the buttplug came out. I put my knife back into its sheath and pulled down my own jeans, allowing my cock to spring out. Then I reached around the guy, grabbed him by the base of his cock, and shoved my own straight up his dripping ass. He moaned with obvious pleasure. Just for fun, I used my free hand to pull the knife back out and hold it in front of him where he could see it. That made him stick out his ass to push my cock even deeper inside him.

After a few minutes, I dumped a huge load of cum into his rectum, and then, after a few moments of relaxation, I emptied my bladder into him as well. Piss dribbled out of his ass and around my balls, and a big splash of piss followed when I pulled my cock out. I re-fastened my jeans, said "Good luck getting home, buddy," and walked out of the alley leaving him behind. As I exited, I turned back for a quick look; the guy was leaning up against the dumpster, jacking his cock like a monkey.

That was the best cum I had had in months, and I was so aroused by it that, by the time I got home, I was hard again and I had to fuck the wife. Even though I shot a pretty good load into her, I still felt there was something missing. Then it hit me: the slightly disappointing thing was the fact that she'd consented. Uh-oh.

In the days that followed, I discovered that my experience in the alley had awakened some kind of sixth sense in me: I could detect anal sluts in a crowd, even if they didn't happen to have a buttplug in (as most don't). That meant my knife had a new use: slicing open sluts' pants. I have probably assraped one guy per month, and, although I know it is wrong, my morals take some comfort in the fact that I have never fucked any guy who didn't turn out to be a total ass-slut... at least after I've spent a few minutes raping his bowels. They all eventually stick out their asses for me and spread their cheeks apart, to get me deeper inside them.

I took a big risk yesterday, though, and I am not sure how much longer I will be able to keep this up without getting caught. My wife and I had gone to her niece's wedding (so naturally I left my knife at home). She's 22 and I had heard the guy was 19, and also that people in our family didn't think much of him. At least in part because of his age, there were questions about his commitment to the marriage.

We got to the cathedral and, sure enough, there was a problem. The guy had gotten cold feet! He was holed up in a dressing room and wouldn't let the priest or any of his family inside. The bride-to-be was in tears, and pretty soon my wife was too. She said, "Maybe he'll talk to a stranger. You're a nice, empathetic guy; go in there and help him see some sense!"

Uh, well, okay. I knocked on the door, introduced myself (leaving out the fact that I was on the bride's side), and asked whether I could come in. After a second, I heard a voice say "Okay," and the door opened a little. I slipped in and closed it behind me, wondering what I was going to say to the reluctant groom.

The minute I saw him, I knew I was not going to have a lot to say. Now I understood why he was nervous about the wedding: this guy was the biggest anal slut I had ever run into. He was sitting there in his tuxedo shirt, jacket, and bowtie, and just white briefs. My sixth sense was going nuts, and I was instantly as hard as I have ever been before. I felt a droplet of precum in my boxers. Without another word, I grabbed him and pushed him to the floor. I ripped off his briefs with my bare hands, spread his cheeks and was amazed by what I saw.

He had the hugest, darkest, puffiest anus I had ever seen. I swear his donut was the size of a donut: three inches across, moist, and thick. If you have ever seen a horse's anus, it looked just like that. I spat on it and on my own cock and then speared his shitter more roughly than I had ever done. The sound of his needy moans as I thrust made me cum in less than a minute, and I felt as if I was filling his bowels with quarts of cum in a steady stream.

I pulled out, handed him his pants, and said "Now go marry her if you value your life." After wiping my cock on the tattered remains of his briefs, I pulled up my slacks and walked out of the dressing room.

It was indeed a lovely ceremony. When the bride and groom knelt to receive Communion, I noticed a small wet spot in the middle of the groom's pants. Yes, that was my semen dripping out of him during the "happiest day of his life." It was a pretty good day for me too. I know I am going to have to rape that puckery shitter of his again and again.

I hope he never turns me in; I would miss my wife, and I understand that the amount and quality of the buttfucking in prison is extremely overrated. In the meantime, though, the poor guy's balls are going to be frequently coated with my semen and piss dripping out of that huge loose butthole of his, especially whenever I hear he is disobeying his bride.