Thread: A Night to Dismember (Foxxo & TNT)

Struggling to keep up with the now relentless thrusts, Eric tried his best to remain calm, tried his best to relax his now sore throat as he continued to tighten his lips around and flick his tongue along the engorged length of flesh that was mercilessly assaulting his mouth. At this point, it didn't really seem to matter if he was good at this or not, because the guy was so lost in abusing him, so lost in openly using him, that it sounded like he was enjoying himself for that reason alone, as his deep moans and wicked laughter continued to echo off the alley walls. For the briefest of moments, Eric actually wondered if they could be heard. Surely someone, anyone , wandering by had to know something questionable was happening just behind the rusted out dumpster that sat halfway down the dimly lit alley. Or...or was this a regular occurrence? Did this asshole already know he would be safe to do whatever the fuck he wanted to because this dark and dirty spot, this hallway to hell, was essentially overlooked or, well, purposefully avoided? Why hadn't he been smart enough to know better? Why? Because before this evening, Eric was an egotistical, cocksure braggart who thought himself untouchable. Nobody messed with Eric Kennedy and got away with it. He was the one who commanded the room. He was the one who called the shots. But now? Now he was nothing more than a spit-dripping, teary-eyed, fuck toy, who was being gleefully abused like some sort of common, cum-hungry whore. Jesus. When...when will this fucking end? he found himself desperately questioning as the guy's moans and groans grew louder, as his grip on his head became more intense, more painful, and his thrusts became even more violent. But then, that question got answered, and, ironically so, Eric actually wanted to take it back, actually wanted this to continue for just a little longer, so that he could've better mentally prepared for what came next, because just as he started to feel like there was no end in sight, no end to the cruelty that could be - quite literally - thrust upon his lips, tongue, and throat, the disgusting pervert pulled out and proceeded to paint Eric's face with several squirts of seed! Stunned by this simple act, Eric found himself flinching and gasping roughly at the same time, as he felt the sticky substance splash across his cheek, then over the bridge of his nose, and finally, up along his forehead, nearly into his dark hairline. Then, as if that weren't humiliating enough, the fucker actually leaned in and began to lap up his own cum as if it were some tasty treat, running his rough tongue all over Eric's smooth, yet sweaty and semen slick skin. It...it...it was revolting. Actually, the whole act was mortifying. And all Eric wanted to do at this point was vomit. Not kill the guy, nor scream and shout, and curse the fucker out, since he remained armed and dangerous. No. He just wanted to release the bitter bile he could feel bubbling up inside of him. That's how wrecked his insides were, that's how disgusted he felt. However, instead, he simply remained kneeling, looking up at the asshole like some sort of lost cause, with his mouth agape and his face glistening with the man's spit. He looked pathetic, he knew he did, but it was a befitting description, seeing that he felt exactly that way. Last edited Mar 8, 2019