Date: Wed, 11 May 2016 20:41:33 +0000 (UTC)
From: Lloyd Peters <lloydpeters48@yahoo.com>
Subject: Your thirsty submale

Copyright 2014, 2016 by peterfag, ab3bb103a630ff2fcd13ebd244a7c726117ad8c4

You may download a copy for your enjoyment; this copyright notice may not
be removed. You may not repost this content without permission.

Please note:

* If you are not an adult (over 18, or whatever the age of majority in your
jurisdiction is), please don't read this. I am serious: your adolescent
brain distorts reality in such a way that you think you are more mature
than you really are. Please enjoy your childhood, and come back after you
are 18, if you are interested. Please help Nifty maintain its integrity.

* If you would be offended by sexually explicit portrayals of BDSM,
humiliation, and degradation, please do not read this.

* If you are able, please send some money to the Nifty Archive. This free
service is not free to those who are providing it. Thanks.

* This is my third Nifty submission. It is not really a story -- i make no
pretensions of being a good story-writer -- but is a copy of a note that i
sent to a man at a social-media site. i hope he rewards me with a response,
but my reward for sharing it with you will be your feedback: constructive
comments on my writing style and content, or any observations you might
want to make, regarding my fantasies and passions.

Sir,

Thanks for your kind comment on my video. i can very easily be seduced. For
instance, if we met in a social setting, i would stand with my hands behind
me, my head slightly down. Your size would instill in me a sense of
deference.

You might ask me to go get you a drink. By sending me on an errand that you
yourself could have done, you have compromised me, asserting an entitlement
and getting me to agree that this is appropriate.  i hand you the drink and
again put my hands behind me. You wrap your arms around me. i feel a
leather cuff on each wrist and hear a click. i am trapped.

You allow the back of your hand to brush against my nipples, and i lean in
closer. You lean in, placing your left armpit in my face. i signal my
submission and acknowledgement of what i am by inhaling deeply, filling my
lungs with your essence.

You give my left nipple a pinch and then move your hand to brush against my
beard, your fingers resting on my lips.  my mouth opens.  You enter with
one finger, and i show you my talents. You insert more fingers, thicker,
deeper, and then return to one finger, my spit and mucus mixing to give you
smooth, slick entry.

You withdraw the finger, lean in, and insert the hand down the back of my
pants, rubbing my boy pussy. my breathing slows and deepens. It feels so
good. You push in, working my hole. Then you withdraw the finger and bring
it back to my mouth. i burn with shame, knowing that i should have cleaned
myself inside, and with the sweet humiliation that the taste always brings
me. You are entitled to be squeaky-clean, and i acknowledge your right to
use me for that purpose.

You begin playing with my nipples. It hurts -- i hope you will stop soon --
but i lean in, whispering "Yes, Sir! Thank you, Sir." You let up a bit, and
then increase the intensity. i know you will stop when you decide to. You
are the man, and i am the faggot. i never even tried very hard to be a
man. i have taken my place at the bottom of the hierarchy. The pain that
you choose to give me is an appropriate punishment.  i hope You stop soon.

You finish your drink, get up off your barstool, and walk toward the Men's
room while firmly holding my nipple. i follow. As a sub-male, i don't
exactly have a right to be in a Men's room, but i am your guest there. You
push me to my knees, between two porcelain urinals, and i understand: this
is a place for men and their toilets. You take a blindfold out of your
pocket and put it over my eyes. Putting your hands behind my head, you pull
my face to your crotch. i feel the rough denim, inhaling deeply, hoping to
catch more of your essence.

"Unbutton me!" you say. i use my teeth to undo each of the buttons, and
then to pull your pants down to your knees. Then the underpants. Your manly
essence fills my lungs and excites me.

By now, my mouth is wide open. Your soft cock fills it. You rest it
there. i want to use my tongue to clean and stimulate it, but i
submissively let it rest. i know what is coming, and i am not
mistaken. Your flow is very strong, just as you are strong. i wish i could
touch myself, the way i often do when i am excited, using one finger to
push my limp hairless boyhood into me in wild, jerky motions, until my
little mess of boy-slime oozes out, filling the space where i have pushed
the glans inside. In frustration and excitement, i repeatedly squeeze my
thighs together, my peenie trapped between them, and make little thrusting
motions into the air.

Struggling to keep up with what you are giving me, i swallow every drop. i
want your approval, want you to tell me i am a good piss-drinking
cock-sucking faggot. "Good boy," you say, and i bask in your approval.

"Pull my underpants up," you say. i pull up the front. You turn around, and
while i am pulling up the back, my face presses against your cheeks, my
nose against your hole. i inhale deeply. We repeat the process with your
pants. You button them and tell me, "Stay there, fagboy!" My mouth is wide
open and ready, just like the other urinals.

As i hear you walking away, the door opens and another man walks in. i
wonder if this is someone who knows me. Tomorrow, when people look at me, i
will wonder what is behind their inscrutable expressions. Will they
recognize me, smirk at me? i feel exposed, but i love that feeling, love
being blindfolded. The man looks at the porcelain urinals and chooses me. i
lean forward, but he puts a hand on my head to stop me. He prefers to look
at his strong flow of piss shooting into his urinal, to hear the splashing
as it echoes loudly in my mouth. With my mouth open, it is difficult to
keep up, and some of his piss spills out onto my shirt and pants. "Stupid
faggot!" he exclaims, slapping me with his huge cock. He moves his hose up
and down, soaking my face, my shirt, my pants. Then he shoves it into my
mouth to finish emptying his bladder.

His flow has stopped, but he does not withdraw from my mouth. He is uncut,
and i use my tongue to clean under his skin. He is rapidly plumping, and
soon i feel pressure on my throat. i begin to gag. His cock, amply
lubricated with my mucus, pistons in and out of his chosen mouth-pussy. i
try to relax. He slips past my throat and bottoms out, his thick pubic bush
pressing against my face. i continue to squirm and squeeze my thighs
together.

The man explodes, filling my mouth, inpregnating me with his seed. Slime
oozes out of my soft peepee, filling my underpants. The man pulls out,
slaps my face with his soft but massive cock, rubs some of his jizz into my
beard, and pulls my shirt up, to finish cleaning himself on a dry part of
it.

i hear the door opening again. It will be a long night. i hope you come
back. i hope you take me home with you.