Catch: Three Refugees Tore My Married Hole! I’m James, a 45-year-old dad, ripped apart by three hung refugees in a filthy alley. My tight ass torn, I’m now my nephew Kyle’s bitch, humiliated by his brutal texts and cock. Soaked in piss and cum, I crave young studs to wreck me. Dive into my shameful descent into depravity!
I’m James, 45, a corporate hotshot turned cock-hungry slut, my life shattered by my own nephew, Kyle. After those refugees tore my married hole in Texas, I became a pathetic bitch, owned by his 19-year-old cock. My tight ass, still scarred from that brutal gang-fuck, throbs with every step, a reminder of the whore I’ve become. My wife and 18-year-old son, Ethan, are clueless, but I’m too far gone to care.
Kyle’s made me his slave, and we fuck everywhere—my office, dark alleys, even my own goddamn house. The thrill of sneaking around with my family home drives me wild. One night, with Ethan gaming in his room and my wife asleep, Kyle slipped into our guest bathroom. “On your knees, bitch,” he whispered, his voice dripping with dominance. I dropped, my mouth watering as he unzipped, his 9-inch cock springing free. He fucked my throat raw, my gags muffled by the sound of the shower I’d turned on to cover us. His hands gripped my hair, slamming my face into his sweaty pubes, calling me a “filthy cumrag” as he blew his load down my throat.
But last week, I fucked up. We were in my basement, my wife upstairs cooking dinner, Ethan out with friends. Kyle had me bent over an old couch, his cock pounding my torn ass, the pain and pleasure blurring into ecstasy. “You like that, you dirty whore?” he growled, slapping my cheeks till they stung. I couldn’t help it—his brutal thrusts hit my spot, and I came hands-free, my cock squirting like a chick’s, cum splattering the floor. I moaned, lost in the high, but Kyle’s face darkened.
“You fucking slut,” he snarled, yanking his cock out, leaving my hole gaping. “Did I say you could cum?” He grabbed my throat, his fingers digging in. “You’re my bitch, and you cum when I say.” I whimpered, “I’m sorry, Master,” but he wasn’t having it. He kicked me to my knees, his boot pressing my face into my own cum. “Lick it up, pig,” he ordered. I obeyed, my tongue scraping the sticky mess off the concrete, shame burning through me.
The next day, Kyle showed up at my office with a package. “Strip, bitch,” he commanded, locking the door. My hands shook as I dropped my pants, my torn ass still sore. He pulled out a steel chastity cage, its cold metal glinting. “You don’t get to cum without my permission,” he said, smirking. He grabbed my soft cock, roughly shoving it into the cage, the tight ring clamping around my balls. I winced as he locked it, the key dangling from his neck like a fucking trophy. “Now you’re really mine, you pathetic cunt,” he sneered, slapping my caged cock. The pain shot through me, but my locked-up dick twitched, desperate for release. He fucked my throat right there, my gagged moans echoing as he called me a “worthless cock-sleeve,” his cum flooding my mouth. I swallowed, the cage a constant reminder of my submission.
I’ve become a good bitch slave, craving Kyle’s abuse. I grovel, beg, and obey, my torn hole always ready for his cock. Last night, in my garage while Ethan was at a movie and my wife was at book club, Kyle fucked me against my car, his hands choking me as he whispered, “You’re such a good slut, Uncle James.” I melted, proud to please my master. Afterward, he sat me down, his tone softer. “You’ve been good, bitch. Let’s talk. What woke this whore in you?”
I hesitated, my face burning. “Texas,” I admitted. “Those three refugees… they tore my ass open, made me their bitch. I loved it.” Kyle’s eyes gleamed, a wicked idea forming. “You miss that, don’t you, you filthy pig?” I nodded, ashamed but honest. “Good,” he said, smirking. “I’ve got a reward for my favorite slave.”
The next evening, Kyle texted me. “Meet me at 9, same spot as Texas. Wear this.” A blindfold arrived at my office, black and thick. My heart raced, but I obeyed, telling my wife I had a late meeting. Ethan was at a friend’s, so I slipped out, my caged cock throbbing under my jeans. Kyle met me in a dark lot near that same seedy Texas street, the air thick with danger. “Blindfold on, bitch,” he ordered. I tied it tight, my world going black, my body trembling with anticipation.
He led me to an alley, the same one where those refugees broke me. “Kneel, slut,” he said, his voice cold. I heard footsteps—multiple, heavy, drunk laughter. Panic crept in, but my caged cock twitched. “Who’s there?” I whispered. Kyle laughed. “Your reward, you dumb whore. I’m your pimp now.” Before I could process, rough hands grabbed me, tearing my clothes off. Voices, slurred and aggressive, spoke in Arabic. I realized they were a gang—young, drunk Arab thugs, their breath reeking of liquor and malice.
“Filthy pig,” one growled, spitting on my blindfolded face. They didn’t care who I was—just a hole to wreck. One shoved his thick cock in my mouth, choking me, while another rammed into my torn ass, the pain reigniting the Texas scars. My hole tore again, blood slicking their thrusts, but I moaned, the brutality awakening that sick hunger. “Take it, you married slut,” another sneered, slapping my face. They were relentless, three or four—I couldn’t tell—taking turns, their cocks stretching my throat and ass, their hands bruising my hips. One pissed on my chest, the warm stream soaking me as they laughed, calling me a “cum-hungry bitch.”
I panicked, my blindfold trapping me in darkness. “Kyle! Master, help!” I screamed, my voice muffled by cock. But Kyle just laughed, close by, his phone recording. “Shut up, you worthless cunt,” he taunted. “This is what you wanted.” They fucked me harder, one shoving two fingers in my torn hole alongside his cock, the pain blinding. I came hands-free again, my caged cock leaking, my body shaking like a whore’s. They roared, unloading in my ass and mouth, their cum dripping down my face, mixing with my tears.
When they were done, they left me sprawled in the alley, cum and blood pooling beneath me. I heard Kyle’s boots approach. “Good bitch,” he said, unzipping. He jerked off, his hot load splattering my blindfolded face. “This is your reward, you disgusting slut.” He ripped off my blindfold, and I blinked, cum stinging my eyes. Their loads coated my face, dripping into my mouth. Kyle leaned down, grabbing my chin, and kissed me, his tongue forcing their cum deeper. I gagged but kissed back, my body his.
“If you keep being my good bitch slave,” he whispered, “I’ll reward you like this again.” I looked up, my face a mess of cum and shame, and gave a lustful, whoreish smile. I wanted more—more cocks, more pain, more of Kyle’s control. “Thank you, Master,” I croaked, my caged cock aching, my torn ass bleeding. He smirked, pocketing his phone with the video. “Let’s go, pig. You’re mine.”
I stumbled home, cum and piss soaking my torn clothes, my wife asleep, Ethan still out. I didn’t shower, craving Kyle’s mark—their cum, my blood, his power. My chastity cage locked away my pleasure, my torn hole a testament to my fall. I’m James, a wrecked, humiliated bitch, and I’ll do anything for my master’s next reward.
