Growing up I was the anonymous child. In a family of five children, I was number three. My eldest brother, the firstborn, was a total hell-raiser. Number two, my sister, was a drama queen. Number four, my second sister, was the ADD/ADHD Ritalin sibling among her many other disorders, and number five my youngest brother was the darling of our tribe. He could do no wrong and always got away with murder. My entire childhood was a never-ending soap opera. The one thing that I, Mr. Anonymous, had above all the others was that I was born with a brain. Collectively, their combined intelligence wouldn’t amount to a double-digit IQ.
When I graduated from college, therefore, I made sure to find a job as far away from them as possible. Parochial as my family was, I was also absolutely sure that I would be rid of them for good. I wasn’t exactly sent on my way with a stash of money to start my new life, but my freedom more than up for that. Initially, I would phone home once a week but these calls were always cut short by some or other drama because of Ms. Ritalin or Mr. Hell-Raiser. Shortly, these calls regressed to a bi-monthly routine followed by a monthly call, which thereafter, became standard practice.
I had long known that I was gay, but having grown up in a family where homosexual people were referred to as queers I was sure the word gay would’ve raised confused eyebrows. Strangely, I was never asked about my love life during one of my phone calls because I presumed that being the nerd I was, my family would not have been able to process the idea that I was even capable of caring for a goldfish. Thankfully, I did not care.
In my new environment, I was able to give vent to my sexual suppression and soon became part of a gay clique. We referred to ourselves as ‘the girls.’ Please understand, I was not a crossdresser and had no intention of doing the transvestite thing, but I was a bottom and loved being dominated by butch guys. I always gravitated toward big men, the rougher and bigger they were, the better I like them.
One of my new ‘girlfriends,’ Peter, told me that you never knew how good-looking guy was until he pulled his underpants down. I totally subscribed to that philosophy. Only being five-foot-six tall and very slight of build, I was like a magnet to the daddy types. Nothing pleased me more than having my arse pummelled by a huge and hairy well-hung hunk.
I was, therefore, elated when Peter told me about a fraternity of outdoor rough-fuckers that got together on weekends. These daddies were mostly bikers and would find very secluded places where they could indulge in a carnal free-for-all. The action was apparently hectic and once you arrived, especially as a bottom, your arse was public property. You had no say and would simply be used as a general cum-dump, simple as that. I must confess that I was somewhat nervous prior to my first outing.
Most of the guys that attended these gatherings brought their on tents along, but Peter said that would be waste of time for us because our ‘accommodation’ was guaranteed. We did, nevertheless, take along two sleeping bags that we could use in his vehicle, if and when we needed a break from the action. Truthfully, I had little conception of the ‘orgasmatron’ I was embarking upon. Having grown up as Mr. Anonymous, however, I felt sure I would be able to cope with the gratuitous sex that awaited me. The namelessness of the impending fuck-fest delighted me, and Peter’s descriptions of the men that we would encounter excited me enormously.
We arrived at the remote venue six p.m. As we got out of Peter’s vehicle my eyes were arrested by a sea of testosterone and fornication. I had arrived in butch-land. Being the middle of summer, Peter had advised me to wear shorts with no underpants, a t-shirt, and sandals. Peter had also mentioned that we should take along a second similar outfit because in his words, ‘things could get a little dirty.’
As we moved towards the masculine throng, Peter’s eyes lit up.
“I have to introduce you to Jake,” he said, motioning with his eyes.
Jake was an uber-daddy. He was ugly, huge, and ominous looking. As we approached Peter mentioned that Jake was an ex-convict, with the dick-of-death.
When we engaged Jake, Peter said, “Hi, Jake, this is a friend of mine. His name is…”
Before Peter could say my name, Gary, Jake interrupted him.
“Bitch, that’s his name,” Jake growled. Then looking at me he affirmed, “What’s your name?”
“Bitch,” I replied. Jake then cocked his head as if he had misheard me.
Peter immediately whispered, “Sir,” in my ear.
“My name’s Bitch, sir,” I quickly responded.
With an evil grin, Jake then commanded, “On your knees, Bitch, and polish my leather.”
Jake was wearing leather trousers. His plaid shirt was unbuttoned and showing off his hairy gut. I got to my knees as instructed and began to lick the leather covering his crotch. After a few hefty slaps to the side of my face, his huge right hand clamped the back of my head and he smeared his leather-clad crotch into my face.
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Peter kneel beside me and commence licking the large daddy’s crotch that Jake had been in conversation with.
I cannot say that licking leather was really my scene but the hardening bulge that I sensed beyond the leather, certainly began to arouse my attention. For the next couple of minutes, I licked the bulge as enthusiastically as I could, before huge hands lifted my body and spun me around. Next, I was pushed down over a sturdy wooden table before my shorts were pulled off my body.
“Now listen up, bitch, I hate loose sloppy cunts and so your arse muscles better be able to pay homage to my dick. I want it tight and energetic. I want to feel your butt milking my shlong like you mean it. Are we fucking clear on that,” Jake pronounced, authoritatively.
“Yes sir,” I excited replied, thinking that Peter had delivered me into nirvana.
I then heard copious spitting before a very large object nestled itself against my pucker.
“Fuck yeah… fuuuck yeah, I love the resistance I’m feeling,” Jake barked.
There was nothing subtle about Jake’s entry as he rammed his knob into me. The pain was excruciating but awesome, and I was afraid that I would see my tonsils exploding onto the table before me. There was no respite from Jake as he began to hammer my butt vigorously. My arse was numb and shortly vicious slaps began to reign down on my cheeks.
“Show some respect,” Jake grunted, “Tighten your fucking pussy,” he growled.
As feeling returned to my butt-hole I did my best to clamp my sphincter onto his cock.
“Yeah bitch, now I’m feeling your respect. Jesus, Bully,” Jake said, referring to his buddy whose cock was being serviced by Peter, “This is one tight fucking bung-hole.”
As I lay on the table getting my backside pummelled, I was totally gobsmacked by all the fucking going on all around me. There were guys in every conceivable position and combination, fucking to their heart’s content. The anonymity was exhilarating. Gratification was the sole motivation for the get-together and that suited me perfectly.
After Jake began to roar once he began breeding my arse, Bully took over. Bully was not as well-endowed as Jake but a lot more animated. Above all, he had the strongest hands that I had ever encountered and the bruises on my backside, afterward, bore witness to his crushing hands. It was simply fan-fucking-tastic! When Bully came, I thought that I was about to be pounded through the table.
Not long after my Jake and Bully episode, three huge hairy bears got hold of me. Being the focus of the three large sweaty bodies was incredible. While one of them had me firmly committed to his bushy crotch as he skull-fucked me, the other two took turns humping and slapping my backside. Finally, I was pushed to my knees before all three sprayed their spunk all over my head.
As Peter had predicted we didn’t need our own accommodation. That night, my mouth was moved from side to side like an amusement park dummy as my head was commandeered, and my arse became an excavation tunnel. I was fucked anally and orally, like an adult blow-up doll that had just been purchased by a group of sex maniacs. Guys came and went and cocks were thrust into me in a melee of erotic domination. Being used indiscriminately and fortuitously was totally mind-blowing to me, like a roller coaster ride into sexual paradise.
Our heaving bodies and sexual grunts and groans were like a symphony of mesmerizing primal indulgence. When Peter and I finally made our way to his vehicle drunk on cum, we were totally replete with carnal overindulgence. I also knew I would be back regularly.