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DILDO SLAVE - A TRUE STORY
 BY manual momentum

For many years, most of my circulating years, I resisted getting 
fucked, actually feared it, after all, the few times I let some 
asshole go up my ass they did it in such a half assed fast thrust 
kind of way that it didn't do me any good.

Well, for a long time now the desire -- actually the need to get 
fucked has increased and increased to a degree that it became an 
obsession.  I guess my puritanical approach in the beginning is 
what spared me from G.C. -- And aids.  But now, now, when the 
timing is really bad, the urge has become an absolute need, to the 
point of total and absolute queerness [that's the only word I can 
fit the feeling with].

There was an ad in a magazine looking for a dildo slave.  
Hesitantly but hungry and yearning I deliberated over this to the 
point of exhaustion [exhaustion of my defenses] and finally decided 
that if I was going to answer this add, I'd better be prepared.  
Determined and following my natural instincts I broke down, went 
out, and got my hands on some interesting toys.  Starting from 
point zero, I took to this methodically and began small.  Horrified 
at the prospects, as time went on bigger became better, not that 
the fear went away, but the need to get more in there just grew and 
grew.  It's in my nature anyway to get into things in a big way, 
and the day came that I broke my first boundary and as if giving 
birth increased my asshole diameter remarkably.

But what was a hot man like me doing this alone for.  Not that 
mirrors, ritual and fantasy aren't exciting, but I needed someone 
elses hand manipulating these joy sticks.  So -- not really knowing 
what kind of hand I would find I wrote this guy, explaining my 
situation and my progress.  Much to my dismay, he called, and I 
shook.  What's worse, is he liked queers, and the more queer I got 
on the phone, the more excited he became.  But I said no [I was 
afraid].

And he called again, very discretely keeping tabs on me and my 
progress, talking to me and cooing me in a queer dominant fashion 
that just made me regress into an absolute idiot queer faggot [that 
I yearned to be].

It made me work harder.

And he called again.

And again.

And each time I shook.

Until one day I called him back.

His machine answered the phone.

Boy was I glad [and dissapointed].

But I was so determined that I worked hard on my ass, and lit a 
candle.  I set this candle before the phone and fell asleep 
thinking about him stretching me out, relating to me like the queer 
that I am and being turned on by it.

Well lo and behold, I was awakened with the telephone [at that time 
I lived alone, and gave out my number], and he said he wanted to 
stretch out my hole.  How could I say no, how could I fucking say 
no!

Too late, too much work, even a ritual, and then he calls -- how 
could I say no.

So I hop in my car, dd's and all, park in manhattan, fearful but 
determined I slug down a beer in the street that I got from a deli 
not far from the phone he told me to call him from.

I call, no discussion, just the adress where to go.

Shit -- this is it.

I go.

There he is, not bad looking, I thought, nervous about what he 
thought of me.  Well, obviously he was impressed, after all there 
was no look of disgust, other than that of looking upon a queer who 
wants, actually wants his butt worked on.

I quietly followed him up the stairs, took a beer he offered, while 
not one word was spoken.  Suddenly the urge hit me, and I opened my 
mouth, stuck out my tongue and grunted like a fucking animal.  He 
answered me by doing the same, and led me to the bedroom.

We talked about nonsense for a few minutes, and I realized he was 
getting impatient.  So I shut my mouth, and he said "show me what's 
in your bag".  I nervously took out each of my toys, much to his 
approval, and then he said "show me what you've got".  So I 
hesitantly opened my pants and let them drop exposing my jock strap 
covered meat, turned around and lustfully, mindlessly bent over.  
He told me to spread my cheeks, which I did, and then directed me 
over to the bed, while he remained sitting across the room, smoking 
a cigarette, drinking his beer.  He told me to get on the bed and 
stick out my ass, which I did, and then he told me to drink some of 
my beer and ...

Well, he came over, talking to me queer, getting me to admit that I 
was a faggot, telling me how much he liked faggots and big sloppy 
assholes, meantime massaging my asshole.  Real nice, good touch and 
real dirt came from his mouth.  I couldn't stand it, this was it, 
how could I resist?  So things became progressive, and we worked 
quickly to the largest toy I had [which to him was probably 
nothing].  He insisted at that point on sticking with the largest, 
which bothered me a little, but who was I to complain.

I'll never forget this, because he taught me so much.  He taught me 
to push.  He would take it out and say "push, push harder, push 
faggot", and I felt like my gut was coming out of my body.  My 
reward was getting something stuck up there while I was pushing, 
and then, then, the ultimate happiness, his fingers.  Well, he 
didn't feel I was loose enough to take the fist.  And I was left 
definitely yearning.  And I'll tell you -- nothing pleased me more 
than when I saw how excited he got as I mentally regressed telling 
him what a fucking queer whore I was.

This lasted a few hours.  I was exhausted, and he wanted me to go 
on.  But I just "couldn't."  Too bad, if I were to do it again I 
would have gone on and let him be the judge of that.  So he 
politely asked me if I would mind if he jerked off.  I said no, if 
he didn't mind my jerking off.  So there we both were, in our jock 
straps with rods hanging out, smoking cigarettes, sitting on the 
floor across from each other.  We inched closer to each other and 
held each other with our free arms, caressing each other with our 
bodies him telling me what a queer I was, and how much he wanted to 
share me with his friends.  We both came.  It was great.  I got 
dressed and left.  He wanted me to put an add in a straight paper 
looking for another top so we could have a threesome, and I could 
tell him stories about my encounters.  Strangely enough, he never 
wanted to get together after that.  But now, whenever I shower or 
...  I push, and I see that my hole is much bigger than it ever 
was, and I'm permanently stretched out ... And in my perversity, I 
thank him.

End.