I
My best semester at university started in September 2015, right after I turned twenty-one. It felt like the stars had finally aligned—my classes weren't a grind, I had plenty of free time, and the professors were actually good. One of them, my PE teacher, wasn't just good at his job; he was fucking gorgeous.
I’ve always loved being used. I like being degraded, having feet shoved in my mouth, being choked out by filthy boxers or sweaty briefs. I like being pissed on, having toys way too big for me forced up my ass, and deep down, I crave the humiliation. If I catch a few hard slaps along the way, even better. It just makes me filthier. And I’d made up my mind that Jorge was going to be the one to do all that and more to me. He was the PE teacher, supposed to be teaching us about "inclusivity" in sports for our future students. I spent the theory part of every class completely zoned out, picturing him stretching my hole open with four oil-slicked fingers as easily as parting a pair of lips. During the practical half, I stayed as close to him as humanly possible. I’d volunteer to set up or pack away the gear, wanting to be his right-hand man... just so he’d shove that right hand deep inside me.
Sometimes I’d drop a double entendre, making sure my classmates were out of earshot. But Jorge either didn't catch on or was playing it incredibly cool.
We had his class on Wednesdays and Fridays. After two months of getting nowhere, I was starting to get desperate. That magnificent bastard had to claim me. He had to wreck my ass.
One of those Fridays, realizing I was about to head home for another weekend with a brutal case of blue balls, I offered to help him carry the basketballs to his car. On Fridays, he took as much gear home as he could because stuff had a habit of disappearing from the gym.
"That’s very kind of you, Jaime. Nobody else steps up like you do."
"You can bet on that. If you knew what I was willing to take in my mouth, your head would spin."
"Sandwiches, I assume?"
"Yeah... sandwiches. Thick meat-filled rolls with a bit of yogurt sauce on the tip."
"Kebabs? I like those too," he said, oblivious. "And I’m lucky enough to burn it all off at work."
There was no other way. I had to go straight for the throat. Point blank.
"Jorge, I want you to rape me."
He was shoving a net full of basketballs into the back of his van when he stopped and stared at me for a long time. He looked stunned.
"Can you repeat that, Jaime? I don't know what I was thinking about, but you don't want to know what I thought I heard."
"I want you to take me to your place, tie me to the bed, fill my hole with cream or whatever the hell you’ve got in the fridge, and just destroy my ass. I want you to shove your cock in my mouth afterward, even if it’s covered in shit, and force me to lick it clean. I want you to sit on my face, on my nose, and smother me with your ass—and if you let out a long, loud fart while you're at it, even better. I want you to treat me like a pig, do every filthy thing that pops into your head. Piss on my face, shove a baseball bat up my ass while you yank my hair. Do everything to me you’d never dare do to anyone else. I want to be yours."
Jorge swallowed hard. His eyes had gone wider and wider with every word.
"I’m home alone this weekend," he said tentatively. "But I don't know if I’m capable of doing all that."
"I’ll help you. Are your balls sweaty?"
"What?"
"I asked if your balls are sweaty."
"Yeah, I think so."
"Rub them. Get them good and slick, then turn me around, press me against your body, and cover my nose with that same hand."
Jorge looked around. The parking lot was empty. He reached into his shorts, grabbing and kneading his balls right in front of me. Then he grabbed me—a bit too gently for my taste—pressed his massive, growing heat against the crack of my ass, and slammed his hand over my face, covering almost my entire profile. The smell of stale, raw musk was incredible. As foul as it was intoxicating. My mouth watered instantly.
"Are you coming to my place then?" he whispered in my ear.
"Only if you force me to stay the whole weekend."
II
I spent the entire drive touching his cock. Every single second of it. Jorge was clearly into my proposal for the weekend. He stayed hard—rock hard—for the entire forty-minute trip from the university to his place on the outskirts of town.
He parked on the street and told me to get inside fast. He didn't want the neighbors catching a glimpse of me.
Once we were safely behind closed doors, he asked if he could fix me some dinner.
"No, fuck that. The only thing you’re feeding me is your cock."
"Okay..."
"Get it through your thick skull once and for all. I’m your whore. Treat me like your fucking whore."
"Fine. But you don't have to talk to me like that."
"Then slap me."
"What?"
"Show me how I’m supposed to talk to you."
Jorge gave me a pathetic little pat on the cheek.
"Like that?"
I laughed right in his fucking face.
"What kind of pussy are you? Hit me, goddammit!"
My teacher gave me a hesitant, half-assed slap.
"Better?"
"Jesus. Maybe we should just forget it. Don't bother driving me home. I’ll call a cab."
I turned for the door. Jorge grabbed my shoulder, his grip tightening.
"Wait, please! I’ll do better!"
"But... you can't ask me 'please,' for fuck's sake! Are you an idiot?"
This time, he delivered a real slap. I smiled. But instead of telling him he was improving, I pushed him harder.
"If this is how you’re going to treat me, you worthless eunuch, I’m better off—"
CRACK!
The blow was so hard it snapped my head around and sent me reeling. I literally saw stars. I tasted copper in my mouth—I must have sliced my tongue against a tooth. I didn't say a word; I didn't want to kill the vibe now that he’d finally woken up. I looked at him with growing respect. Then, he swung his other hand and cracked me across the other cheek, sending me flying into the glass display cabinet. It was a miracle my head didn't go through the door.
Instead of worrying about me, Jorge lunged, grabbed me, and threw me onto the sofa.
"You wanted cock? I’ll give you fucking cock!"
He ripped my gym shorts down in one motion and pulled out his weapon. It was terrifyingly large. He hovered over me with a primal, white-hot fury I’d never seen before, and he started trying to shove that thick meat inside me, bone-dry.
"Aren't you going to lube me up?" I asked, my voice trembling.
He grabbed a fistful of my hair and yanked so hard I screamed.
"Shut your fucking mouth. You don't get to talk. If you say another word, I’ll beat you so goddamn hard you won't be able to speak again. If you understand me, nod."
I nodded. My own dick was starting to get incredibly hard.
"You don't deserve lube. I’m going to ram it in dry. And raw. Scream all you want. I’ll just tell the neighbors I was watching a movie."
And then he shoved that massive shaft into my tight, unyielding hole.
III
We were lying naked on his king-sized bed. Jorge was lazily stroking one of my butt cheeks.
"Can I be gentle with you for a while?" he asked.
"Right now, I’d appreciate that."
He looked at me with a guilty expression that made him look almost adorable.
"Tell me you liked it. Please."
"I don't know," I answered honestly.
My ass hurt like hell. Getting that much cock inside me without any help had been an ordeal. I’d never felt pain like it. The whole area was still throbbing, and I doubted I’d be able to sit down in class on Monday.
"If you don't know, it means you didn't like it."
"Look, man. I wanted to bring out the pig inside you, not the fucking psychopath."
"I guess I got carried away."
"Carried away? You went off the deep end! And coming inside me, Jorge? Jesus. You’re a teacher. Surely you’ve given a class on using protection."
"Don't worry about that. I’m clean."
"How do you know?"
"Because I haven't fucked anyone but my wife in years."
"Oh, this just keeps getting better. You’re married?"
"You didn't know?"
"I thought you were gay! And single! I’ve never been with a married man. I don't want trouble."
"Well, aren't you a picky little whore?"
Even though I was pissed, that actually made me laugh.
"Yeah. I guess I send mixed signals."
"Give me a handjob."
"Already?"
"I’m always ready." My teacher took my hand and pressed it against his stiff cock.
I stroked him for a bit, but I was exhausted. I think I actually drifted off. He woke me up with a slap to the butt that left his finger marks burning on my skin.
"Truce is over, pretty boy. You’re eating dick. And not a fucking word—you know the rules."
He made me sit up against the headboard and shoved his thick shaft into my mouth.
"Seriously. I’m not in the mood. I can't even sit up. My ass is killing me..."
WHACK! Another slap, stinging and sharp.
"I told you not to talk!"
I glared at him with pure, visceral hatred. He just smirked at me.
"Come on, don't look at me like that. I’m giving you exactly what you asked for."
I nodded. Fuck, he was right. I loved being face-fucked senseless. I needed to get filthy and enjoy what he was offering. I was in his house. All weekend. This was my dream come true. I’d been chasing this for months.
"Fine. Give me your meat until I choke. I won't talk anymore. But stop with the slaps, dammit. I can't take any more of that."
Jorge dragged his thick vein across my face.
"Fine. No more slaps. Besides, I’ve got something much better to torture you with."
He didn't even pretend it was going to be gentle. He shoved that heavy meat straight down to my throat and started fucking my face savagely. My head thrashed against the headboard with every brutal thrust. I gagged at first, but he didn't give a shit. He kept slamming into me while I tried, and failed, to find a comfortable position. Eventually, I managed to wedge a pillow behind my head. I’m sure the neighbors appreciated the effort.
Soon, I was drooling like a beast. Jorge had a massive cock—my ass knew that all too well—and he was filling my entire mouth with hot meat. There was no room for my spit, which sprayed out the corners of my mouth every time he rammed into my throat, which was every two seconds. The saliva started slicking down my chin to my chest, making his cock glisten in the lamplight. The drool got trapped in his pubic hair, and when it pooled too much, it dripped onto my neck in hot globs. Finally, I started to enjoy it. I’d begun to think something was wrong with me, but thank God, everything was working again. My hunger for filth returned, and my dick turned into a rock.
Jorge must have realized I was enjoying it too much because he decided to make it hurt. He thrust harder, leaving me breathless, and then he pinched my nose shut, squeezing hard with two fingers. Any chance of breathing went out the window. For one delicious minute, I became a drooling machine. I didn't need air to live. Being violated by that massive cock was enough. Jorge kept the air blocked and pumped like a madman. After a glorious minute, my lungs were screaming, and I started thumping his legs. He didn't let go of my nose. He just pulled his cock out for a split second so I could gasp in a mouthful of air before slamming it back down to the base of my throat. I lasted another minute like that. Whenever I felt like I was about to black out, I’d hit his legs again, and Jorge would give me another tiny breather. I used those moments to explosively clear the spit and make room for air. Then I’d pull him back in myself, begging for him to keep torturing me with that heavy rabo.
I’m not sure how I managed not to puke on his dick, but I did.
At one point, he pulled the candy away and got off the bed. He came back with his phone and started recording the face-fucking.
"I don't think this is a good idea."
He slapped me for speaking without permission, but this time it wasn't a full-blown strike.
"If you open your mouth again, I’ll break it."
I nodded. I wasn't thrilled about him recording—his wife could find it—but I figured I could handle that. I’d just grab his phone and delete the video when he fell asleep.
"Smile. Your mother’s going to see this," he said. "Unless you play nice and stay my little whore whenever I feel like it."
Damn. The bastard had really leaned into the role.
He recorded me from every angle, taking dick without a break and drooling like a fucking pig. He even shoved the phone under his cock to get a tight close-up of his member burying itself deep and sliding out dripping from my mouth, trailing long strings of spit. The phone was a mess. Half the video was probably just a blur of saliva.
Suddenly, he started babbling, excited as a kid on Christmas morning.
"Holy shit, holy shit, this is going to be great. You’ll see. You’ll see."
He turned around without stopping the recording and slammed his ass into my face. He gripped my head hard so I couldn't pull away and ordered me to eat. With my spit-covered face buried in his hole, I used my tongue like a greedy little whore.
"You’ll see, you’ll see."
I worked hard to give him a rimjob he’d never forget. My tongue had my teacher moaning like a bitch. And then, when I least expected it, he let out a long, loud, wet-sounding fart right in my face, holding my head against his ass by force so I had to swallow every bit of it.
The bastard started laughing like a lunatic.
"Hahaha! Wait until you see the look on your mother's face when she sees this."
I wanted to get the hell out of there, but he had me pinned. When he decided I’d had enough of his ass, he flipped back around and rammed his cock into my mouth again, no mercy. After five or six brutal thrusts, he realized I was crying. He pulled his dick out and recorded my face.
"What's wrong? Was it too much for you?"
I nodded. He was dragging his wet meat across my face, recording everything.
"But this is what you wanted. Tell your mother. This is exactly what you asked for. You wanted me to treat you like a pig. You asked for a fart in the face—the longer the better."
I nodded again.
"Then why the fuck are you crying, you little faggot?"
"Can I talk?"
"Sure."
"I’m crying because you humiliated me. That’s how this works. The more you degrade me, the more I crave it. Maybe it doesn’t feel great right this second, but I’m going to love every second of it when I’m looking back. When my ass doesn't ache so goddamn much. You’re giving me a month’s worth of filthy jack-off sessions in my room, just replaying what you did to me. You’re way better at this than I expected. You’re the fucking boss. You’ve got a cock and a body that are just... unreal. I’m crying because it hurt, being treated like this. But I’m also crying because I’m probably going to end up falling in love with you. I feel like absolute shit, but I’ve never felt better."
"I like your little speeches. And you seemed like such a dumbass when I bought into this."
He shoved his cock back in to the hilt and pounded me until, without a single warning, he blew his load with his entire shaft buried in my throat, literally drowning me in his seed.
IV
We woke up early on Saturday. He said he had practice and that I could play with his consoles and raid his fridge as much as I wanted.
"If my wife shows up, tell her you're my assistant and you came over to help me grade exams."
"Shit. Your wife might show up?"
"Probably not, but it wouldn't be the first time she’s fought with her parents and come back early."
Fortunately, his wife didn't show. I spent the day playing video games, texting my friends, and poking around the house.
By seven in the evening, the bastard still wasn't back, so I started watching some weird disaster movie. It must have been one of those low-budget sci-fi channel flicks because I’ve never seen anything so absurd and poorly made in my life. It was so bad it was actually good.
At nine o'clock, just as I was starting to get worried, Jorge showed up, drenched in sweat.
"Jesus. You’ve been out all fucking day."
"Hey, brat. Watch your mouth. You’re not my wife. Don't act like you are."
I apologized, looking at the floor. He continued:
"I didn't plan on staying for lunch. Or training all damn afternoon. But the team is pathetic. Truly pathetic. We’re going to get slaughtered in the championship."
"Are you tired?"
"I’m exhausted."
"I... I’d love to smell your sweaty balls."
"Ah, look at the little bastard. He liked the preview in the parking lot."
"I asked for it, remember?"
"Come here."
He took my hand and led me to the sofa. He lay down, pulled his short gym shorts down a bit, and made me lie beside him in the opposite direction, burying my face in his balls.
"Don't do anything but smell them. Don't suck my dick, no matter how hard it gets."
"Why?"
"Because I’ve been half-hard thinking about you all day, and if you touch it, I’ll blow my load instantly. I’m about to burst, I promise you. So just stick to smelling my balls and burying your nose in there. Meanwhile, I’ll give you a blowjob. I’ve never sucked a guy off, and I’m curious."
"Mmm, and it's a hell of a turn-on, right?"
"A hell of a turn-on."
That night, there was no humiliation. We had quiet but very satisfying sex. And Jorge wasn't bad at sucking dick at all. The bastard was a fast learner.
V
On Sunday, his wife showed up while Jorge was railing me in their marriage bed. When he heard the front door, my teacher pulled out calmly, and with a cold-bloodedness that left me stunned, he threw on a t-shirt and some track pants and went barefoot to greet her, his massive wood clearly visible through the fabric. I dressed as fast as I could and sat down with my laptop, which I’d strategically left on the desk just in case. If she walked in, it would look like I was working. Though the room smelled like sex so strong it could knock you over.
"We're grading exams," I heard Jorge’s voice almost right behind me.
I turned and greeted his wife, who was peeking through the bedroom door.
"In here?" she asked, puzzled.
True, the master bedroom didn't seem like the most appropriate place to grade exams. Jorge just stared at me, not knowing what to say. I pointed to my laptop.
"It was the only place the Wi-Fi would reach. But if you want, I can try the living room again. Maybe if I move the router..."
"No, no, it's fine," Jorge’s wife said with a smile. "You can stay. As long as you don't go snooping through my panty drawer..." she joked.
Though from her tone, I think she might have actually liked that. Jorge killed the fantasy.
"He wouldn't do that if you paid him. He’s into guys."
"Oh," the wife said, a bit taken aback.
"Real nice, Jorge," I said, slightly annoyed. "I love it when people broadcast my sexual preferences to the world."
"There's nothing wrong with liking it up the ass," Jorge said, discreetly adjusting his package.
His wife had already headed for the living room. He followed her. I heard her asking if I was mad. Jorge told her it was all an act. That everyone knew I was gay, that I was proud of it, and that I was the first one to shout it from the rooftops. I took the moment alone to grab Jorge's phone and delete the face-fucking video—first from the gallery, then permanently from the trash.
I stayed with them for the rest of the day. I’d told Jorge to take me home whenever he wanted, and he’d whispered back that he’d take me at night so I could suck him off in the car without getting caught. At nightfall, we headed toward my place, and just like last time, I was touching his thick shaft the whole way. The guy never lost his hard-on. He pulled over near a dark empty lot, stripped off all his clothes, and shoved his toes into my mouth while he jerked himself off and jerked me off, both of us moaning with pleasure. The toe thing was my idea, of course.
At one point, he said:
"I’ve got a massive fart coming. You want it in the face?"
"Yes, please."
Even though the van wasn't exactly comfortable, he managed to plant his heavy ass right on my nose.
Preeeeeeeet. Pa pa paaaaa.
It was a monster of a fart.
We had to roll down the windows and everything.
VI
The following Wednesday, I spent the entire PE class waiting for Jorge to make some kind of knowing gesture, to say something only I would understand, but the bastard wouldn't give me the satisfaction. He acted like the weekend had never happened. I thought maybe he was waiting for the end of class, for everyone to leave, but the son of a bitch had plans to shoot some hoops with the English teacher afterward.
I watched them play until I got fed up and headed toward the gym exit, dejected.
Then someone tapped my shoulder. I turned around, and there he was. He’d run over the second he saw me leaving. I smiled, flattered.
"Don't go," Jorge ordered.
"Okay."
"Sit and watch us play. When we head for the locker room, count to two hundred, then follow us in."
"Mmm, spy games. I love it."
I obeyed and spent almost an hour waiting for them to finish shooting. The English teacher had a great body, but he was ugly as sin. And I’m usually one of those guys who thinks there’s no such thing as an ugly man—that everyone has something, even if it’s hidden under their pants. Not this guy. He was truly ugly. He gave a new meaning to the word.
Finally, I saw them put the ball away and head for the locker rooms. I didn't feel like counting to two hundred, so I set my phone timer for four minutes. Better late than early.
As the minutes ticked by, I rubbed my dick, wondering what Jorge had planned for me. Was he going to jerk off in front of the English teacher? Or did he just want me to watch them in the shower?
When the time was up, I headed into the locker room. I saw them behind one of the low wooden benches. They were still dressed. It didn't look like anyone else was there. They were smirking, and—holy shit—the English teacher was touching his bulge, and he seemed to have a formidable tool. In the end, he could be forgiven for being so ugly.
They were watching a video on Jorge's phone. My teacher signaled for me to come closer and turned up the volume. I heard him insulting me in the video while I choked on his dick. Those wet, gagging sounds were mine. It was the video from Friday night.
"But I deleted it," I said, almost in a whisper.
"I figured you would, so I emailed it to myself the second I finished recording."
"Why?"
"So I can have you on call twenty-four hours a day. You’re always going to be ready for me. You’re going to be mine. Or I’ll post this video on Facebook for your whole fucking family to see."
"Do you think he’d do that for me?" the English teacher asked Jorge. "Look at how the bastard swallows!"
"Of course he will. For his own sake." And looking at me, he added: "And you can start right now. Come on, on your knees. Let's see if you can fit both at once."
I obeyed, completely rock-hard. What a bastard. God, I loved this guy.
He was the fucking boss.
AUTHOR'S NOTE: If you enjoyed this raw, visceral dynamic and crave more dark, twisted M/M tension, you need to check out my full-length psychological thriller, STAINED, available now on Amazon and Everand! You can also click on my author name here to read more of my stories, or follow my new serialized novel, Instructions for Madness, on Reddit as
u/Electrical-Candy7252 . Come join the madness!
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