This is the 21st chapter of the sexy story Thirty One Days, a challenge that involves sex, thirty-one women, and will take 31 days
This is night number three since receiving the DVD. I have watched the entire movie four times, from start to finish. I am now 'reviewing' the highlights.
What the hell Is this movie consuming my life
I have managed to drink only two beers during this review session. I am trying to reign in the runaway drinking, and the brown bottle snorting, and the jerking off to gay porno bullshit. Because none of it is okay. Because it is simply wrong.
I didn't see the timer the first time I watched my movie. Or the second time I watched. Or the third time. I did pick it up on tonight's viewing. In the bottom left hand corner. Tiny little numbers. I gleaned some very disturbing information from those numbers. Stevie's cock was in my ass for thirty-seven minutes. Thirty-seven.
How was this possible
What kind of a stud was he
Thirty-seven minutes. No wonder my ass was so raw. I never fucked anybody this long. Fifteen minutes, maybe twenty, maybe twenty-five, tops. Usually with a break. The break being me pulling out of a pussy, jamming into a mouth, and then finishing back in the pussy. Or in the ass. Or some combination of.
Variety, I called it.
The entire time Stevie's cock was in me, my own cock was growing to legendary proportions. On the screen, the thing was gigantic. Sick. Twitching, and leaking pre cum, and twitching some more. Flexing and veined and straining and engorging. At the time of eruption, despite being heavy and full and weighted, my cock was standing straight up.
Another bit of disturbing news.
My cock was not only the biggest it had ever been, it blew the biggest load ever, it blew the furthest distance ever, and for the longest time. It blew untouched. Not stroked, or sucked, or licked, or squeezed by a little ring covered girly hand. Not plugged up in a tight pussy, or a tight ass.
No, my cock blew solely because another cock was in my ass.
Plain and simple.
The prostate gland was a powerful 'G' spot for some males, according to the internet. Yet, this was more. Much more. Me the pussy pounder, flat on my back. With the shit punched out of me. A dog collar clasped around my neck. Bleeding from the mouth. Sweating. Humiliated. Womanized. Destroyed. Dominated. Dominated by someone half my size, wearing leather pants and big black boots.
As good as my cock looked on the video, Stevie's cock looked equally good. Yes. I said it. Faggy sounding Maybe. Okay, for sure. But if you are a body builder and you see another guy with a great build, can you not say he has a nice body Why not I happen to have an incredible cock. If I see a guy with a nice cock...
Never mind. Way too faggy.
There are five long minutes on the video, dedicated to exclusive close up work. Shots of Stevie's long, white cock, sliding in and out of my dripping ass. I can tell he is performing for the camera. A true showman. Pushing in, nice and slow, pulling out, nice and slow. The sound is primo. The sucking pressure and the crackling of the lubricant as he saws in and out of my ass are clearly audible. My hole is flaming red, raw with the abuse. His cockhead is purple, and his shaft is alabaster white. What a remarkable contrast of colors.
I move the video ahead to the choke out scene. It appears to be a losing, ass-whipped, mixed martial arts fighter lying on the mat. There is no tapping out in this match. Son of a bitch.
My stupid hands are glued to my legs, holding them apart.
The entire bloody time!
Disgusting and beyond reason.
What does it say about me What I can't hope to explain.
Way to defend yourself, asshole.
It's not on the camera, but I remember the joy, the bliss, the power in Stevie's eyes as he destroyed me. I could appreciate this. Because the fourth time I watched the movie, I watched it from his point of view. I morphed into his role. The top. The conqueror. The victor. The hunter. It made me horny to assume this role. I am rubbing my nipples just thinking about it.
I might as well go to the absolute worst thought imaginable. As I finished my fourth viewing, I began to wonder. Wonder about Stevie, and what kind of god he is, for giving me the biggest orgasm of my life. As fucked up as this sounds, it is true. He made me cum ropes and ropes of the white power juice. He made me explode.
After I was been choked out, Stevie crawled up over my body and began to lick up all of my semen. Starting at my cock, deep throating the spent, twitching monster. Licking up my belly. Licking my protruding nipples while I was out cold. This was nauseating to watch. A guy eating up another guy's cum. I did watch this particular segment three times.
I hit the stop button. Rewound. Hit stop again. Took a quick sniff from the nitrate bottle. The throbbing in my cock started up on cue, as I hit the play button. Stevie's thick lips are dripping in cum and he is climbing up, heading towards my nipples. My head and cock are pounding, and the temperature in my body is rising.
Why don't I have my leathers on
Why am I thinking about quickly changing into them
Stevie is spending a lot of time on my nipples. My nipples are hard buttons. My nipples have become an extension of my cock. Damned sensitive and erotic. On the TV screen, my chest is heaving, as if I sense his presence in my unconscious state. In my living room, my cock is out and in my hand. I am thinking of pausing this to change, but I fear I have gone too far. Stevie is at my neck, finding ropes of thick cum. Licking, sucking it up into his mouth. I can see cum globs on my own mouth and Stevie moves to these.
I can't help myself, I am pumping my meat. I grab a breath, anticipating his kiss, because I have watched this before. The camera work is incredible. All I can see on the screen are two sets of lips. They meet, the top set pressing on the swollen lower set. Pressing hard, I see the semen slither from my lips into his mouth. For good measure, he snakes his tongue into my stupid, open mouth. I cannot respond, for I am out cold.
Choked out, cold.
I think to myself. He could have done anything to me. He could have spray painted me green. Or brought his buddies in for a gang bang. Or shit in my mouth. Or called on the Pit Bull Man. I shudder at the thought. The thought of the naked Pit Bull Man nearly brings me to a full stop. I released my throbbing meat. I gulp some air and slow the hell down. I slow to a stop.
Stevie and his leather pants and his big boots. Hot.
Me in my leather pants and big boots. Hot.
Domination or submission. Hot.
Pit Bull Man. Freezing cold and disgusting.
My cock settled, as did the thumping in my skull.
I thought about the final insult.
I was having a hard time believing Stevie did it.
Why would I think he didn't
He beat the shit out of me. Somehow mind fucked me. Then ass fucked me. The trifecta. Of course it was him. His final act of total domination.
Why was I giving him the benefit of the doubt
Because he gave me the biggest orgasms of my life
First, when I blew him, and second, when he fucked me
The first two orgasms with another human being in a year
Was I giving him too much credit
No. Not probably.
For sure I was.
Because Stevie, or somebody...tattooed my ass.
The second part of the note, left for me in the car. Instructions for care and management of a new tattoo. On the left cheek of my ass.
I must have been out cold for an hour. Or two.
When he did it.
Or they did it.
Somebody fucking did it.
Those three words.
House. Of. God.
There it is.
Bad enough the bleeding asshole and the cracked nose and the bloody lips and the swollen eyes and the ligature marks on the neck. The stabbing pins and needle fire coming from my ass cheek was something else. Damn painful. It woke me up the next morning, in the front seat of my car. It was nearly impossible to drive home with half my ass lifted off the car seat. The days following, of washing and salving and covering the damn thing. The real reason I missed those work days. A permanent reminder of my visit to God's house.
A fucking tattoo.
On my ass.
What was I supposed to do
My mind was working hard, trying to find an explanation. How to turn this tattoo into something good. I wouldn't be showering at the gym for a while. The boys would sure be wondering. Thank Christ, this was the decade of stupid tattooing. If I thought hard enough on it, I could come up with a reason for the damn thing.
But I couldn't. At least not off the top of my head.
This is why I looked up tattoo removal.
A waiting period, after a new inking.
I was now a card carrying member of the House of God, and I didn't have a clue who God was.
The second potential permanent reminder of my visit was my bleeding ass. Stevie's raw cum. No condom. Breeding they called it in the gay world. Good old internet again. Bare-back fucking. Breeding. Spraying your dominant semen into a bottom's ass. Not giving the bottom a say in the ritual. Raunchy. Risky. Unprotected. Unhealthy. H.I.V. unhealthy. A little bit of Russian roulette with your life.
Along with the tattoo, did Stevie bestow upon me a death sentence
Or at least, a lifetime of fear and ill health
There were only two people to thank for this.
Him and me.
'Please fuck me'.
Mainly me to blame, I understood. Stevie was simply going with the flow. The flow of me.
For the hundredth time in this very month, what in the hell does this all mean
Don't ever go back idiot, is what it means.
Torn, bleeding ass. Punched out. Fucked out. Embarrassed, schooled and dominated. Belittled. Bare-backed and bred. Abused, for damn sure.
The souvenir DVD, waiting for YouTube.
The souvenir tattoo, from the House of God.
What a mistake.
What a colossal, fucking mistake.
How could there possibly be an exception
The orgasm was magical. My cock in the video was magical.
Since the age of fifteen, my cock guided me. Guided me to some very special places. Some very fanciful places. Places I visited as I got older. Places I visited in the course of a single month. With some sexy, horny, hot, fantastic ladies. The best of the best. Until, the fateful night. When my cock abandoned me. To ridicule and shame and weakness.
Was my cock guiding me somewhere else
Was I curious enough to follow
Was I dumb enough to follow
See the novel reviews at WWW.EROTICAREVEALED.COM June edition, and at BARNES&NOBLE.COM.
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Watch the video on YouTube, 'TRAILER FOR THIRTY-ONE DAYS'.
About: The author of "Thirty One Days - Chapter 21" is Ronan Jackson Jefferson - You can contact the writer at Rojackjeff@hotmail.com. You can print this erotic tale for your own personal pleasure, or read more naughty stories like this in our Sex Story Series section.
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