Becoming a Hole

You might assume that, after my craigslist sexcapade, things for me would go back to a semblance of normality. You might think that, after having been quite literally drenched in urine and semen, that I might have "gotten it out of my system" in some way. As if sex drive were a stomach flu that could, with sufficient expulsion, be cured, or as if it were some precious nonrenewable resource that could be depleted.

Au contrere.

The phrase "furious masturbation" doesn't begin to describe what was unlocked in me in the days following my orgy. As if baptized in cum and thus anointed in the worship of phallus, I felt reborn with a frenzied passion I couldn't control, despite my efforts to sate it. It got to the point where I was skipping class to rub out just one more load (despite having plastered my desk with 4 others earlier that morning); and fascinatingly, porn was no longer my main fuel. It was almost background noise to the snapshot images from that fateful night, the way my hole puckered as if to reenact its forceful initiation, and the tastes that even still seemed to linger on my tongue (the saltiness of the sweaty cocks I was fed, the warmth of my seminal reward trickling down my esophagus, etc.) It almost felt like a joke to pretend to return to the facade I'd spent the last 19 years crafting: this sculpted adonis who stood as a symbol of heterosexuality, masculinity, and domination. All that seemed to matter was my next submission. And each time I craved it, I remembered the business card I was given that night.

"Call me if you're interested," he'd said. "I have a special task I think you'd be perfect for," he'd teased. After what he'd just witnessed me do, I kept finding myself curious about what he could possibly have in store for me - what he could want from me that I hadn't already one for him, let alone the dozens of other men I'd served that night.

All I knew was: I wanted to find out.

The orgy occurred on a Sunday (I know - ironic, right?), and by the time Wednesday rolled around, my craving and curiosity were reaching the point of impairment (I was literally skipping meals to lap up my own cum to mimic the humiliation I so desired), so that evening, I resolved to call the number given to me. I had the thought that I could block my number when calling, but the idea of being identifiable in and of itself turned me on - the potential for future power play at the forefront of my imagination - so I dialed the number unblocked.

After just a few rings, a familiar voice cheerily answered: "Jeff with XXX [redacted for privacy], thanks for reaching out. Who may I ask is calling?"

A pause ensued. I wasn't sure how to answer. "Uh... hi... you gave me your card and asked me to call..."

"Sure, no problem sir! Did we meet at the conference a couple weeks back? Happy to continue that conversation about our collaboration, and in fact, I have so-"

"No no! No... haha... sorry... we met sunday night?"

A second pause ensued, this time on his end.

"... I see. One moment, please..."

For the next minute or two, I heard quite a bit of rustling and activity in the background. I can only assume he'd placed his cell phone in his pocket and got up to find a more private area, but it wasn't my business. So I waited until the rustling ended and a voice greeted me again.

"Hey! I uh... I wasn't sure you'd call." He sounded pensive. Tentative in some way. Almost like he was waiting for something from me, but I really wasn't sure what. This was all so new to me; I had no idea how to navigate this kind of conversation.

"Yeah," i giggled awkwardly. "I'm not sure why I did. I guess I'm just... curious. You seemed like you had things in mind, and I dunno... I guess... yeah, I'm just curious."

"I see... well... hmm... Are you calling from a cell phone?"

I wondered why he'd ask that.

"I am, yeah," I offered.

"Good. Just a sec..."

Not a moment later, I got a notification on my phone from an unknown number. "Please watch," I was instructed. I opened the notification, which revealed a video. Perplexed, I pressed play, and to my surprise, the grainy video featured an unmistakable me. It was a video clearly filmed at the orgy, with me being facefucked and pissed on, moaning in submission and lapping up the fluids being thrown my way; and although the blindfold covered my eyes, recognizability was not an issue.

Blackmail.

"I... I don't underst-"

"It's insurance. What I need from you must remain confidential. That is key. Whether you agree to help me out or not, I need assurance that the content of my request remains completely safe. And this is my guarantee that it will. Clear?"

All I could muster was a timid, "... y-yeah..."

This displeased him. "... is that how you respond to your superiors?"

Superiors. I took the hint. "N-no, sir..."

I could almost feel the grin on the other end of the line. "You're learning. Good boy. Now, to my request." He paused, I assume to scout his surroundings and reassure himself regarding privacy, then he continued. "I need a favor from you. You see, I'm in a new relationship with someone junior to myself. I'm in my early 40's and he just turned 20. He's a decent sub. He blows me and takes my dick, but it's just... nothing like you were. Something about the way you were on Sunday... it's hard to describe, but I need that from my sub. And I need you to help me help him."

Intrigued, I followed up. "Help you help him... how would I do that, sir?"

Another detectable smile. "See? I knew I'd picked the right hole." (Immediate tent.) "Here's what I need: I need to fuck you while he watches. He needs to learn to do what you do better. He needs to learn a lesson about what it means to serve, to treat a cock like it's necessary for survival, to worship his dom like the inferior drivel he is... and using you as a teaching toy could be just the thing I need. He's game - he doesn't have a choice - and all we need is someone who craves cock as much as I need them to. And you... fuck that was hot to watch..." I heard what appeared to be a sigh, as if in contemplative ecstasy. "Well... that's the long and short of it. Questions?"

I surprised myself with the immediacy and resolution with which I produced my response: "When and where, sir?"

He laughed. He knew he had me, and not even through coercion. I was discovering my primal need to serve, and he was dangling the opportunity to serve in front of me. How could I refuse?

------------------------

I was instructed to meet Jeff and his partner (whose name I didn't know, though I suspected his identity, much like mine, mattered much less than his role as a cum dump) at their house the following evening. I remember being struck that they owned a house together, though I remember briefly entertaining the passing thought that Jeff must be footing the bill while his partner reaped the benefits through service. Upon arrival at the house, I remember being struck by the architecture. It was large for the area: a brick two-story house (with a fenced-in yard that appeared professionally maintained, even) was hard to come by this near to an urban city on the east coast, but there it was in all is splendor. In contrast to my experience several days prior, I was given no specific instructions this time, so I showed up fully clothed and without a make-shift blindfold. I rang the doorbell, which had an ornate, almost old-world quality to its tune, and after a brief period of waiting, the ornate oak door began to swing back and gave way to my solicitor - Jeff.

He really was a handsome gentleman standing there under the threshold, and I'd had that thought when I'd initially seen him several nights ago, but I finally had a moment to really take him in. Slender green eyes sat like matching thrones above a strong, Roman nose; 5 o'clock stubble; and a heavily defined jawline. Lips were thin but shaped into a sheepish sexiness, but the waves of his longer-than-average brunette hair served only to enhance his elegance and, interestingly, reinforced the confidence of his masculinity. He greeted me in a bathrobe, clearly minimizing barriers to the acts to come, and donned a sly grin. "Thank fuck you're here" he said, one hand keeping the door open, and the other visibly groping his crotch through the robe. I smiled hungrily and took the invitation to enter into the foyer.

While Jeff guided me, I couldn't help but take notice of the extravagant decor that lined the walls. Portraits, paintings, and photography of the highest class framed the walkways, occasionally interspersed with what appeared to be family portraits. From the few that I saw, I surmised that Jeff had a wife (nothing to write home about, standard blonde woman with a medium-length bob) and an adult son - green eyes and brown hair like his father, with what appeared to be a small mole/birth mark (a "beauty mark" a la Marilyn Monroe) on the corner of his mouth. I wondered when they got out of the picture, such that he's able to live with his lover in this veritable palace. Eventually I dismissed the thought - not my place, I figured.

After crossing what felt like an acre of Jeff's estate, we came to the threshold of what I'd later know to be the master bedroom (aptly named, in this instance). Inside was a massive canopy bed - it must have been a California king - with extravagant decor adorning the walls. But none of this drew my attention because, as it turned out, we were not alone. Jeff's partner was kneeling on the floor waiting for us (or, more pointedly, for his master). He was kneeling on the floor, knees spread in front of him with his feet resting gently under his bubbly cheeks. The first thing I noticed was his apparel - he was in black fishnet stockings that traveled halfway up his slender thighs, and he was wearing a skirt; though, frankly, "skirt" is a generous term given how short this thing was. His ass-crack was visible beneath the skirt, and his cheeks were on full display as they rest on his laced-up feet. He also appeared to be wearing a collar of some sort, though the outline of this was barely visible under the medium-length wavy brown hair that was neatly tucked behind his ears. Upon hearing us enter, he gently turned his head to acknowledge our arrival. And then I saw them: the green eyes. The beauty mark. It hit me.

This was Jeff's son.

The demanded assurance of confidentiality, the blackmail, it all suddenly made sense to me. Jeff had recently started fucking his son, and it was his son that he wanted to train up to competence as a sub.

The realization immediately sent blood to my pleasure center, and my dick rose to attention. This all felt so fucking dirty, so naughty, so taboo. Jeff wanted to fuck me in front of his son to teach him how to better worship his dad's cock as the focal point of his existence. And I couldn't fucking wait.

Jeff's voice broke the pause of my stunned realization. "Don't acknowledge it," he instructed me, clearly referring to his son. "It knows to sit and watch, and it knows it'll be punished if it so much as touches its clit while it's learning." I nodded. Pretend like he's ("it's") not there. Treat it like it's nothing. Fucking hot.

Just then, Jeff began loosening the tie on his robe. I began to move in order to kneel down, but Jeff's hand grabbed my shoulder to stop me. "I haven't told you that you're allowed to begin. If I'm your God, then my cock is my alter. Giving worship to the alter is the most effective way to worship your God, but ceremony must take place. And our ceremony requires permission. You don't act because you want to - you act because your God demands it of you. So instruction is a key commandment. You will never act without instruction. Understood?"

I gulped - not out of fear, but because my salivating was uncontrollable. "Yes sir. Anything you want, sir."

"Good. Now... finish untying my robe, take it off for me, set it on the bed, and then strip for me. Now."

I dutifully did as I was told. Though Jeff had clearly fucked me before, I had never really seen his body or his manhood, so this was really a first for me. Parting the cloth almost made me gasp. First of all, the world would be a much hornier place if every 40-year-old had a body like Jeff. Juicy pecs, well-defined abs, rounded shoulders, and beautiful, veiny arms. His toned stomach revealed a well-defined treasure trail that led down to a monster cock. Though I didn't know it at the time, it became clear to me - the 8.5" monster that gaped me that first night at the orgy was Jeff. And I could now see my brutalizer up close and personal. Even soft and hidden beneath a jungle of untrimmed bush, his cock was monstrous, and his sack carried literal egg-size sperm banks nearly halfway down his thigh. I couldn't wait to earn the reward of Jeff's hardness.

As I slipped Jeff's robe off his back, I was taken aback by a wave of his natural musk, and I let out a shivered sigh. I neatly folded the robe and placed it on the bed, and then I got to work on my next task.

I knew the function of my stripping. It wasn't just an act to get me naked, and it wasn't even really for visual appeal. It was a task to demonstrate to Jeff's son what it looks like to yearn for and earn cock - to so decidedly prioritize the pleasure of your superior that *literally* every move you make is tactfully and deftly executed to maximize the likelihood that your master is pleased. This unspoken directive was to guide not just what I did but how I did it. And I knew I was up to the task. As such, with every move I took - bending down with straight legs and arched back to untie my shoes; shimmying with purposeful bounce out of my khaki shorts as if to the beat of Jeff's racing heartbeat; lingering with my head caught in the neck hole of my shirt to portray my body as yet another object on display; all of it carefully titrated to maximize Jeff's appeal. And I could see that it was working. Each time I turned around, his penis displayed increasing tumescence, its thickness ever more forbearing. When I'd stripped down to my underwear, master commanded me to stop. He stood up, cock bouncing proudly as he stepped towards me, and after glancing at me up and down and nodding with approval, his palm made sudden contact with my chest, and I landed flat on the bed. "Don't let me down, whore," he bellowed.

What happened next still fuels my masturbation sessions to this day. While I lay on my back sprawled on the bed, Jeff began to climb over me, straddling me on all fours. When our faces met, he lowered his face onto mine, ensnared my lower lip between his teeth, and bit until blood was drawn. He then licked his lips, smirked, and continued slowly climbing over me. He eventually stopped at the point that his balls were dangling across my forehead, mixing the sweat from his sack and my brow together, and lifted his upper body to a kneeling position. He then spread his cheeks, and with a simple command, my task became clear: "tongue my hole, slave." And as he descended onto my mouth, my tongue reached to greet his puckering hole, making blissful contact as he continued to lower himself onto my face. He eventually settled his entire weight onto me, and I was in fucking heaven. First, while my tongue was worshipping Jeff's opening, my nose was blanketed by Jeff's scrotum, and the pure, unadulterated scent of male genitals would have buckled my knees had I been standing; additionally, as he wriggled back and forth, his hefty balls massaged my cheeks; and given that my eyes were right below Jeff's cock, my view of his throbbing undervein, his pulsing mushroom head, and the drips of precum that would occasionally bless me with a splash were pure heaven to me. But nothing compared to the dynamic of being forced to worship Jeff's hole. In a sense, it's an incredibly vulnerable position to offer one's opening for analingus - it's the most feminine part of a man, the part that can most easily be subjected to invasion - and yet here he was, asserting his power over me with his most vulnerable part, turning me into nothing more than a pleasure seat in the process.

The taste, the sights, the smells, and the dynamic - I almost came right then.

After a while, and after reminding me of my place ("filthy fucking pig, you like that don't you? You like it when a real God grants you some hole to worship?"), he suddenly threw his leg over the side and dismounted my face. Suddenly, I found myself being flung over, belly on the bed, and then I heard a sharp ripping noise; before I knew it, my ass (which had previously been covered by boxer briefs) was being eaten as well. Where I was worshipping his hole, he was dominating mine - biting my cheeks, furiously penetrating my ring with his forceful tongue-jabs - all the while reddening my ass with a multitude of furious spanks. My moans filled the room.

I couldn't help but look back as he tongue-fucked me, and out of the corner of my eye, I saw his son, still sitting prostrate in his lingerie. Noticeably, though, his tiny skirt was now suspended with a skinny but impressive hard-on, though importantly, he was obeying his master's (father's) orders and refraining from touching it.

He liked watching his dad take his pleasure from me.

"I can't take it anymore," he said, and without further warning, he slammed his cock inside my spit-soaked hole. Though the semblance of lube helped, his bulging rod was still too much for me, and I shrieked in response. This emboldened Jeff. Slap. My face reddened, and he began to take his time, pumping his fuckstick in and out, as if to relish in the friction and the warmth he was taking from my insides. Eventually he lowered his chest on top of me and wrapped his arms around my neck - at this point, he loosed any fuck restraints he may have had prior, and he began furiously pounding me. As he humped, his grip on my throat got tighter and tighter, and I felt a high come over me - almost like a trance. "Good boy," he whispered hungrily in my ear before licking my cheek. "Your god is pleased."

Eventually, the rhythm of his breathing shifted, and his humping became more irregular - cum was close. I knew he'd cum inside me - that was never a question. I was a thing to conquer, and the imposition of a load solidified the conquest. And conquer he did. His breath quickened, and I felt his cock tighten inside me; he roared like a lion, and I felt the force of his ropes spraying my insides, completely draining himself and his sex. He fell on me, sweaty and drained, and he slowly pulled his softening member from my throbbing hole. I felt cum leak, but before I could savor the sensation for too long, I heard Jeff bark an order:

"You. Eat what you failed to earn yourself."

It was then that I heard the first sign of noise from the corner of the room. I turned my head slightly to see Jeff's son timidly walk toward the bed, lower his face between my splayed legs, and dive his tongue into my cum-soaked cavern. I felt him deftly scoop the liquid, savoring the seed that had both created and degraded him. I heard a swallow, I heard another slap, I heard the sound of spitting, and I heard Jeff order his son back to the corner.

Following this, I turned over, exposing my still throbbing boner. Jeff caught sight of this, and rather than instructing wrap-up, he seemed to get another idea. Gesturing me towards his son, Jeff instructed the following: "You - cum on its face."

I'd been dying to cum since I'd tasted my master's hole, and frankly, being a tool for my master to further humiliate his disgraced sex toy sent me into overdrive. I hobbled over to my master's son, rubbed my precummy cock all over his face (which elicited moans of appreciation from my dom), and began jacking. My balls hurt from being thrown back and forth so rapidly, but I was craving release, and I wanted to give my master his treat - a degraded son. Eventually, I reached the point of no return, shouted in my own turn ("Oh fuck, oh fuck, FUUUUUUCKKKK") and sprayed at least 10 blasts all over its face, its skirt, it's clit, and its stockings. Afterward, I used my deflating cock to rub the cum around its face, as if playing with paint on an easel, to further rub in the power differential.