Date: Sun, 16 Nov 2008 18:08:03 -0800 (PST)
From: Master Terra D <masterterradil@yahoo.com>
Subject: The Humiliation of Phillip (watersports, scat)

Phillip stood at the top of the stairs, naked, his hands cuffed behind his
head and blindfolded.

The engaged, bi-sexual accountant had been looking for a man to pop his
cherry.

Phillip was of Italian descent, covered in a pelt of coarse, black hair. He
stood 5'11", average build, fairly decent looks, especially in the angle of
his photo on-line.

The 26-year-old had a big dick, 10 inches and thick, and he'd split many
guy's asses and girls pussies, but he wanted a real man to plow his own
shitter the first time.

For Phillip, a hole was a hole. As long as he got off, he didn't care what
was on the other end of his dick. His curiosity started getting to him. How
could a guy enjoy it up the ass? He figured he'd need to find a guy as good
as him to enjoy it.

On a trip to Hannibal, MO, from St. Louis for a client, he'd found him:
Coach Nardin. The football coach was 6'3", kind of good-looking Neanderthal
features, stud build, hairy chest, 9" cock..

The instructions were simple: come to the apartment above the business on
the square, on the landing would be instructions to strip, blindfold
yourself, and cuff your hands behind your back. They'd discussed limits,
but Phillip steadfastly said he had none. Coach had asked about shaving,
pictures, being shared, bondage, electro and more.

Phillip then did have some limits. He didn't want shaved, although he
hadn't made it a hard limit, but pictures was a hard limit and none would
be taken.

Phillip had done as instructed. Coach Nardin, Bill, ("You'll call me
`Coach', boy") had assured him no one else lived up there; Phillip had
counted four doors when he arrived.

Phillip stood there, his cock semi-hard and his body totally excited.

He heard the door open.

"Hi, faggot," a deep, rough voice said. A hand grabbed his big cock and
pulled him inside. Phillip felt a temperature change as he crossed the
threshold. "I see you're a good boy, followed instructions."

"Yes, sir, Coach," Phillip said.

"And I see that donkey dick you claimed to have is real, boy."

The door closed. Phillip couldn't be standing more than a few feet in the
apartment when both of Coach's hands started brushing Phillip's
nipples. The backs of the hands grazed over Phillip's nips.

"Like your tits played with, bitch?" Coach asked.

"Yes, Coach," Phillip replied.

Phillip had bragged about his cock, his sexual conquests, his use of men
and women. In negotiating the meeting, the Coach had insisted on
humiliation; Phillip had insisted on getting his virgin ass plowed. Phillip
said he was willing to swallow, willing to do pretty much anything.

"Yer titties are getting pretty hard, bitch," Coach growled, starting to
lightly pinch the protruding flesh.

Phillip had bragged about how he degraded men who wanted to swallow his big
dick, mocking them, calling them names, but Phillip just called them "fags"
and "cocksuckers" and "dick whores." He hadn't thought to call men's
anatomy by the female counterparts. Coach was making him a little
uncomfortable calling his nipples tits.

Coach eyed the massive member between the accountant's legs. It was now
standing at steel-hard attention, and the twinkling of clear liquid barely
broke the slit; pre-cum.

Phillip's balls were roughly grabbed and Coach started leading Phillip
through the apartment, sometimes moving swiftly, sometimes stopping, then
going slowly. Phillip couldn't keep track of directions or distance. He had
the sensation the apartment was rather large.

It sounded as if Coach sat down. Phillip shortly felt breath on his cock
head. He silently snickered. His cock had lured many men off their path;
he'd expected better than that. A thumb pressed the top of his cock,
smearing the precum across the sensitive crown. Phillip shuddered.

"You bitches are so easy," Coach chuckled. He pulled down on Phillip's
hairy balls and smacked the tip of the accountant's cock.

"Fuck!" Phillip screamed.

Coach eyed the pecker. Phillip was a hairy little monster. Hair grew up the
cock for at least two inches. Coach was sure most rarely got down that
far. The cock was a donkey dick. It was long and thick, almost as thick as
a beer can.

The hand holding Phillip's hairy nut sack adjusted its position. Coach
teased the cock be rubbing Phillip's dick against Coach's forearm as the
hand massaged the nuts and the middle finger started massaging Phillip's
perineum, that spot between a man's nuts and anus.

Phillip responded by spreading his legs.

Coach stood, forcing Phillip to slightly arch his back as the Coach's
finger found the virgin hole. The fuck finger began prodding the
accountant's cherry.

A quizzical look came over Coach's face.

"Like your pussy fingered, bitch?" Coach asked, realizing what he was
feeling.

"Yeah, Coach," Phillip sighed, but wasn't totally relaxed.

"How many men have fingered that pussy?" Coach asked.

"None. It's strictly one way," Phillip said with his typical attitude and
bravado.

"How often have you fingered yer own pussy?" Coach asked, continuing to run
his middle finger around the rim of the shit hole, not truly penetrating
it. Coach was standing so his lips were right next to Phillip's ear. He
spoke is direct, husky whispers.

"Never. Nothing's ever been up my ass," Phillip bragged.

"Pussy," Coach corrected.

When Phillip didn't respond, Coach roughly jabbed the shit hole, said, "say
pussy, boy", and squeezed the hairy scrotum.

"Pussy, Coach," Phillip relented.

"Good, girl," Coach gloated.

Coach released Phillip totally and examined his fingertip; Phillip stood
untouched for the first time since entering the apartment. Coach made
guessed right; Phillip hadn't cleaned out his pussy.

He held the fingertip under Phillip's nose.

"Smell your pussy, bitch," Coach instructed.

Phillip took a whiff, then a deep one. His tongue involuntarily snaked out.

Coach was a little grossed out. He didn't do scat. Shit play was, well,
nastier than he liked, but he'd never seen a man turned on by it, and
Phillip obviously was into his own shit, or at least the smell.

"You're a nasty bitch," Coach said, noticing Phillip continued to sniff the
fingertip, covered in a greenish smear of feces.

"Like the smell on yer pussy, girl?" Coach decided to pursue this. Phillip
had asked to be de-virginized, used and humiliated. Coach would oblige.

"Yeah, I do," Phillip answered.

Coach pulled his finger away and kissed Phillip, pushing his lips open and
burying his tongue down the accountant's throat. This would be the last
kiss of the evening.

"You eat ass, girl?"

"Yes, Coach."

"Washed or unwashed?"

Phillip didn't understand the question. Phillip was a horn dog. If he had a
willing hole, he fucked it, shot his load, cleaned up and went about his
business. Sure, his girlfriend douched, but men didn't do that.

"However I find it, I guess."

Coach smiled a wicked grin. This bitch didn't even realize she was nasty.

Coach reached between Phillip's hairy legs and put his fuck finger to work,
getting more of Phillip's pussy on his finger.

He brought the nasty mess up to Phillip's nose. Phillip quickly started
breathing it in again.

"Don't worry, baby. You'll be smelling your pussy all night long," Coach
said, smearing the mess on Phillip's upper lip, right below the
nostrils. "Ever want to taste your own pussy, Phillip?"

The questions unnerved Phillip, especially this one, using his name for the
first time. He was curious to know what he tasted like. He tasted other
guys' asses, and girls', but never thought he could his own, and now he
could, or at least Coach was leading him to believe he could. He cock was
straining hard.

"Yes, Coach."

"Yes, Coach, what, baby?"

"Yes, Coach, I want to taste my pussy," Phillip revealed his desire.

Coach placed his finger on Phillip's lips and pushed. Phillip parted his
lips, allowing the finger to penetrate his face, entering his mouth,
delivering the taste of Phillip's pussy to Phillip's mouth.

Phillip took a tentative swipe of the finger, tasting the tart, tangy mess,
enjoying the musky, dark scent penetrating his nose.

Coach was repulsed and turned on at the same time. This had taken an
unexpected turn. He usually brought boys in, had them suck him, spread
their legs and get fucked, shave some areas, maybe slip some panties on
them, then release them, dress them while still blindfolded, then shove
them out the door as he removed the blindfold so they'd never be able to
identify him if they saw him on the street.

This bitch was going to get more.

"You a nasty bitch?' Coach asked.

"Yes, Coach, I'm a nasty bitch," Phillip admitted, savoring the finger in
his mouth.

Coach pulled the finger out, looked at it, saw Phillip had Hoovered it
clean.

He turned Phillip around and viewed the hairy mounds. Coach decided to take
a little time and give Phillip a good head-to-toe exam. He had a nice
build. Not muscled nor fat, but average, appealing. He was hairy. His back
had soft, fine hairs, which kept him from having the "ape" effect, but
Phillip had hair everywhere.

Coach pushed Phillip's head down until it rested on the bed. Coach wasn't
concerned about the mess on Phillip's face; he had a "play sheet" down on
the bed.

Coach eyed the hairy pussy directly, and it was a mess.

"Squat, bitch."

Phillip bent his knees, which spread his hairy butt cheeks, exposing more
of his pussy.

"Next time you offer your pussy to a man, wash it out, bitch," Coach
said. "Only nasty fags like this."

Phillip didn't like being called a fag. He liked sex, and as long as it
wasn't up his ass, he was straight, he thought.

He felt Coach hit his hairy butt cheeks with his cock. Then the cock slid
down his crack and Phillip felt it at his pussy.

"I'm going to have to fuck the shit out of you, fag." Coach was getting
cocky, but Phillip was in no position to do anything about that.

Phillip wasn't sure how long he'd been standing, but with his legs bent in
a squat, they were becoming tired.

Coach reached under Phillip and pulled the dick back so it was pointing
down to the floor. Coach kept grinding his cock the length of Phillip's
hairy crack. He saw Phillip was liking it, precum drooling from the hefty
hammer.

"Want me to fuck yer shit pussy, fag?" Coach asked.

"Can I take the blindfold off to watch you, Coach?"

"No, fag. Now, you want my cock up that shit pussy, cocksucker?"

Phillip's cock wanted release. Phillip wanted release. He was turned on a
lot more than he'd expected.

"Yes, Coach. Please fuck me," Phillip begged.

Coach smiled.

He pulled away from Phillip, then lifted and flipped Phillip on this back.

Phillip had his hand cuffed with steel handcuffs behind his back. He landed
on his arms, the metal pinching.

"Hey! This hurts," he bellowed.

"So?" was Coach's response. Coach continued moving Phillip as Coach
wanted. Phillip ended up turned with his head hanging over the edge of the
bed, on his back.

Coach beat Phillip's face with his cock, leaving a couple streaks of grime,
then parting Phillip's lips with the engorged pecker.

"Yeah, clean that pussy mess off my cock, fag," Coach gloated. "You are one
nasty faggot."

Phillip slobbered on the messy pecker sliding down his throat. Phillip had
only sucked a few cocks, mainly to get shy straight guys primed to take his
donkey dong, holding their heads down on it, forcing them to swallow his
load, then leaving them hard.

Coach pulled out.

"Like that, girl?"

"Yes, Coach!"

"Want more?"

"Yes."

"Beg for it, fag."

"I want your cock, Coach. Please let me suck your dick so..."

The cock sliding down his throat interrupted him. Phillip was
uncomfortable, but his cock was rock-hard. The cuffs were biting into his
wrists, and the throat fuck was rough, but Phillip needed the use. His eyes
teared up as he coughed on the pecker down his throat.

Coach's nutsack whacked into Phillip's blindfolded eyes and nose.

Coach reached for Phillip's cock and roughly massaged it.

"Damn, you are nasty, boy," Coach crowed, humping the accountant's face
relentlessly as if it was a real man's ass. Phillip coughed and sputtered
around the Coach cock, saliva trailing out both sides of his mouth,
clinging to Coach's cock, smearing on his balls and Phillip's face.

After about five minutes of that, Coach pulled completely off Phillip.

"Nice mouth, bitch," Coach complimented, starting to move Phillip around
again.

Phillip's face was shiny from his own drool and Coach precum, from his hair
line to his neck. He was breathing hard, trying to catch his breath. During
that five minutes, or was it fifteen, Coach had brought Phillip to the edge
at least twice, then stopped. His cock hurt.

Phillip was still catching his breath when he felt his legs in the air, his
ass now where his mouth had been.

"What do you want, Phillip? You want a man's cock up your ass?" Coach
taunted. "Want my dick in that shit pussy? Say the word, fag."

"Yes," Phillip hoarsely responded.

Coach plunged in balls deep into the messy shitter. Phillip cried out as
the large cock ripped through his sphincter. Coach held the cock in place
as Phillip tried squirming away. Coach clamped one hand on Phillip's inner
thigh and the other around the account cock.

Phillip's struggling ended up fucking Phillip up and down on Coach's cock.

Coach took that as a signal to start fucking and did so. Coach usually
liked to do a 15 minute fuck of a virgin hole, but Phillip was nasty and
Coach wanted to avoid a huge mess.

Within a few minutes, he was rabbit fucking, working his spunk from his
nuts, ready to whiten Phillip's butt.

"Like that cock, whore?" Coach snarled, spitting on Phillip's face, the
spittle landing on the accountant's lips.

"Oh, fuck," Phillip whimpered.

Coach kept pounding, calling the hairy, hung boy names and tweaking his
tits every so often.

"I'm going to cum!" Phillip screamed. White ropes of spunk whipped across
the hairy torso, about a foot from the fount. The ass squeezed more on
Coach's cock and was that little extra something Coach needed as he
silently unloaded up the hirsute hole. He kept fucking through the orgasm,
preparing for the next step in Phillip's humiliation.

"Want my cum, boy?"

"Yes, sir," Phillip tiredly answered.

"You a fag, Phillip?"

"Yes, sir, I'm a fag, sir!"

Coach pulled his still-hard cock from the messy hole.

He roughly pulled Phillip's head to the edge and shoved his cock back in
Phillip's mouth.

"Clean your pussy and my cum off my cock," Coach said after it was inside.

Phillip was overwhelmed, but accepted his situation. He started sucking
Coach's cock clean, having been used in unexpected, yet exciting
ways. While he used his lovers, he'd never treated any of them as if they
were mere property, the way Coach was, asking after the fact, or having
Phillip beg for something he wouldn't even do to another.

"Swallow."

It was the only warning Phillip received. He mouth suddenly was full and he
fought to swallow. "Don't spill, fag!" Coach commanded.

Phillip then realized he was swallowing piss. He'd pissed on guys on their
knees after they'd sucked him off, but he'd never been on the receiving
end.

"Good, fag," Coach purred, lightly stroking Phillip's face. "You've done a
good job, fag. Catch yer breath."

Coach helped Phillip sit up. Phillip's spent cock hung limp between his
legs, his hands still cuffed behind his back, still blindfolded.

Coach let him sit quite a while, at least 2-3 minutes. Phillip could hear
Coach moving around; it sounded as if he was collecting things.

"That what you wanted, boy?" Coach asked, still moving.

"Yes, Coach."

"Did you know you were such a nasty fag?"

"No, Coach. Can I take this blindfold off now?"

"No, fag. You haven't earned that."

Silence, then Phillip felt two hands pushing his legs apart.

"Let me shave you, boy," Coach said, "and I'll remove the blindfold."

Phillip felt humiliated.

Shaving was one of the limits he'd put in place, and here Coach was
negotiating it, using it.

Phillip wanted to see the man who'd busted his cherry and used him like a
plaything. Phillip felt he deserved that, but that hadn't been part of the
deal either. Coach had never said when the blindfold would be removed.

"Let me shave you, Phillip, and you'll see me," Coach assuredly offered. He
stroked the inside of Phillip's hairy thighs, looking for signs Phillip may
be getting hard again.

Coach traced his fuck finger across Phillip's pulsing pucker and brought
the nectar to Phillip's lips.

Phillip smelled it and flicked his tongue out for a taste, then went down
on it, sucking it clean.

"I need a decision, Phillip," Coach said, sliding the finger away.

"Okay, but nothing visible outside my clothes," Phillip conceded.

Coach had a very evil grin. He gently pushed Phillip down on the bed, and
started between his hairy nuts and asshole, working up the crack, shaving
away a four-inch wide strip. He then shaved the nuts, and dick, leaving the
pubes.

Coach then started the humiliation shaving. He shaved two razor-wide strips
from the crotch to the knees. He shaved the outline of a triangle from
between Phillip's pecs to just above his pubes.

With an electric razor, he trimmed Phillip's pubes short.

He rolled Phillip over on his stomach and shaved two stripes of hair away
on each butt cheek.

The effect would be humiliating for Phillip when he got home. Coach had
shaved Phillip in a way that would require Phillip to shave away everything
before his finance saw his naked body again.

Coach cleaned up the clippings, then sat Phillip back up, kneeling between
his legs.

Phillip was semi-hard again.

Coach started massaging the dick again. He was going to work a second load
from this boy.

"Okay, you shaved me. Blindfold," Phillip demanded.

Coach smacked the top of Phillip's dick.

"I'm going to work another load out of you, boy. Don't you want that?"

Silence.

"Well, boy? You want to work another load?"

Coach was being a tease. He wasn't really negotiating anything
here. Phillip was already worked up; Coach was offering a second orgasm.

"Your dick says second orgasm, boy."

Phillip was already groaning.

Coach reached under the shaved nut sack and prodded Phillip's newly shaved
hole, noting Phillip had leaked some Coach cum. Coach scooped up some and
finger fed Phillip.

"Like cum, boy?" Coach asked, pulling the finger away.

"Yes, sir."

"Like being used, boy?"

"Yes, sir."

Coach really started working Philip's prick.

"You're an arrogant fag, Phillip."

Through moans, Phillip said, "Yes, sir."

"So what if I was ugly, boy?"

Phillip's mind started panicking.

"Boy?"

Coach kept pumping the pecker.

"Take this blindfold off me!"

"That's when the true humiliation begins, boy," Coach taunted.

"Oh, fuck. My cock!" Phillip cried.

"What if an average man popped your cherry, fag?"

Coach was fingering three fingers up Phillip's shaved, busted cherry while
pumping his cock.

"AHHHH!"

Cum flew from Phillip's cock, landing in his trimmed pubes. Coach kept
pumping as he pulled the fingers from Phillip's hole and shoved them into
the man's mouth. Phillip started sucking those fingers as his orgasm
started to subside, but Coach kept pumping.

Coach then switched from pumping to polishing the cockhead.

"Stop, man," Phillip begged.

"What if I'm just some guy that posted a few pictures of another guy, and
you've let me use you?" Coach asked, pushing Phillip's sensations over the
top.

Phillip writhed in pleasure as his over-stimulated cock twitched.

Coach totally released Phillip. He removed his fingers from Phillip's mouth
and took his hand off Phillip's cock, although he did wipe the cum from his
hand in Phillip's hair on his head.

Phillip panted as he tried to calm down.

He heard one click, then another, as Coach unlocked the handcuffs. Phillip
couldn't really move his arms, being in one position for so long.

"Relax, fag," Coach sneered. He gently removed Phillip's blindfold,
brushing Phillip's lips with a pec.

Phillip rubbed his wrists, starting to take in Coach as he back away.

"Coach" stood back about 12 feet, smirking, his arms crossed in front of
his chest.

It wasn't the man in the pictures.

This guy was 5'10", kind of flabby, nice looking, but not the guy in the
pictures.

"Who the fuck are you?" Phillip snarled, starting to realize what had been
done to him.

"The guy that popped your cherry, Phillip," the guy gloated. "You can call
me `Coach'."

Silence as Phillip turned red with embarrassment.

"Humiliated, boy?" Coach sneered. "Yer a shit fag. You've been shared."

Phillip was a mixture of outraged and humiliated.

"Fuck! Why did you do this?"

"You said you wanted used. I used you. You said you wanted humiliated. I
humiliated you. You agreed to all of this, fag."

Phillip got to his feet, and started looking around, then remembered his
clothes were in the stairwell.

"Doors this way, boy," Coach said, opening the door to the stairwell.

"You're disgusting!" Phillip shouted, darting for his clothes and starting
to dress. "Is that guy even real?"

"The pictures? Yes, he's real. We usually tag-team a boy like
you. Typically, I do everything I did, but when you take off the blindfold,
he's waiting for his turn," Coach said. "He couldn't make it tonight."

Coach was talking very calmly.

"This is wrong," Phillip cried, but strongly, still dressing.

"Phillip, you agreed to all of this. I warned you that the humiliation
would be great, beyond your expectations," Coach said. "You said you could
handle anything."

"You lied."

"Actually, no. I never said those pictures were me."

"Fuck you."

"No, thanks, that's what I just did to you."

Phillip stood in the stairwell, fuming, humiliated, realizing all the
degrading things he'd done, fantasizing about a man, thinking that man had
done those things to him.

"Next time you're in town, look me up, and I'll see if the other member of
the team can use you then, boy," Coach chuckled.

"Fuck. You."

"Have a nice wedding. Kiss the bride with that mouth."

Coach shut the door.

Phillip ran down the stairs, tore outside and got into his Lamborghini. He
squealed the tires as he drove away, trying to figure out the next time
he'd be in town.


The end


Men and boys, thanks for your comments on other stories. If you send
something, remember to put something in the subject line, or I'll think it
is spam and delete it.

Master Terra D

masterterradil@yahoo.com