John sat on the bed in the motel room, anxiously waiting for the man from the agency to arrive. He had come directly from the office, having already told his wife that he was going to be working late, possibly all night. Such things weren't terribly out of the ordinary so she had grudgingly accepted it. He just hoped he could still face her in the morning.
John was a normal guy, or at least he had always regarded himself that way until recently, until the dreams. He had been a star on his high school's football team. He had graduated from college with honors. He had been a successful advertising executive for most of his adult life.
He had always loved women; he was extremely attractive, with dark curly hair, a sweetly dimpled smile, and light fur covering his chest, forearms, ass, and legs, and he had had a reputation as something of a womanizer until he finally settled down with his wife, whom he had always been faithful to her ever since. They had two kids together. And now in his early thirties, he had what could only be described as a healthy family life, a successful career, and an active social life to boot. He had never thought he might be attracted to men...
Beads of sweat popped out on his brow. He had never done anything like this before; never imagined that he even needed something like this. But he did. He needed it bad.
It had started with the dreams. They aren't always exactly the same; sometimes they take place in a dark alley, sometimes a field; once it was at the old running track where he had gone to high school. The important thing is that he is by himself, or thinks he is by himself, until his assailant, his tormenter, arrives.
John can never remember his tormenter's face; just that it's hard, and that grin. That grin as he shoves him to the ground. That grin as he forces John to his knees, and opens his fly, and pulls down his pants to reveal the hairiest, beefiest legs John has ever seen, and then takes out his cock...
Oh God, the cock. It's huge. John got hard, just sitting there on the motel bed thinking about it. But it's never like that in the dream itself. There is no pleasure for John. His assailant grabs him by the hair, and forces his mouth down on that... that monster. It is a monster cock. At least ten inches and as wide as John's wrist.
"You like that, don't you, sissyboy?" his assailant mocks as he forces John further and further down his shaft. "Why don't you take it all, sissyboy?" John moans almost inaudibly as he feels the giant cock slide down past the edge of his throat, and down, down... it must be stretching his throat so much, it's so fucking huge... how doesn't it tear it?
His assailant is moaning too, with pleasure. He holds John down as far as he can go (it's never very far, the first time) for what feels like forever before withdrawing his cock; he grunts a bit as John's mouth slowly comes off it... and John opens his eyes, looking it straight in the slit. His assailant slaps him in the face with it a few times. This goes on for a few minutes, and each time his assailant's cock is forced down his throat, it manages a little more, a little more... until, incredibly, John's nose is right in his tormenter's copious bush. "You like the smell, don't you? I bet you do, you faggot." Does he? John can never remember the smell when he wakes up, but he's curious. He holds John down for so long, holding his nose, not letting him release that mammoth cock even an inch from John's sore and aching throat, that John feels like he's going to pass out... "Choke on it, bitch," his assailant teases, that grin on his face... then he is allowed a breath. Then he takes it again... and again... and again... John's muffled cries of anguish more than matched by his tormenter's moans of pleasure.
"Yeah, your hot mouth feels so good on my cock, sissyboy. Why don't you turn around and we'll see how your ass feels?"
"Please, no," John says, feebly. He doesn't think he can handle it; that cock will split him in two. But is there not a certain excitement, a certain curiosity there, as well?
