The Lies and the Truth - Part 1

The walk to Mark’s building felt longer than the fifteen minutes it should have been. Each step was a negotiation. My left foot said, Go home to Sarah, to the life you’ve built. My right foot answered, You’ve been thinking about this for a year. You’re already here. The doorman gave me a neutral glance as I buzzed apartment 7B, my heart thudding a frantic rhythm against my ribs. This was the point of no return. The click of the electronic lock was the loudest sound I’d ever heard.
Mark opened the door, and the sheer presence of him hit me like a physical force. He was exactly as his profile described, but reality had a weight that pixels couldn’t convey. He was a fortress of a man, late thirties, with a thick, dark beard that framed a mouth set in a firm line. His chest was a mat of hair that swirled down over his stomach, disappearing into the waistband of his sweatpants. The scent of him—clean sweat, soap, and something undeniably male—washed over me.
“Get in,” he said, his voice a low rumble, stepping aside. He didn’t need to raise it. The command was in the quiet.
I stepped into the apartment, the door clicking shut behind me, sealing me in. The air was thick with his presence. He didn’t offer a drink or small talk. He just looked me up and down, his eyes lingering on my crotch.
“You know why you’re here,” he stated, not asked. He hooked his thumbs into his sweatpants and pushed them down. His cock, soft but still impressively thick, flopped out. It was a piece of meat, heavy and dormant, resting on a low-hanging, full sack. “On your knees. Now.”
My body obeyed before my brain could finish processing the command. The floor was hard under my knees, the plush rug doing little to cushion them. This was it. The line I had drawn in the sand a year ago, after that one drunken encounter, was being erased. I was crossing back into a territory I swore I’d left for good.
He stepped forward, his limp cock brushing against my cheek. It was warm, the skin soft and loose. “Kiss it,” he ordered. “Show me you know what you’re here for.”
I leaned in, pressing my lips to the fleshy head. A faint, musky taste clung to my lips. I felt a tremor run through me, a mixture of terror and a deep, unsettling thrill.
“Good boy,” he murmured, a hint of condescension in his tone. “Now, let’s wake him up.” He grabbed the base of his shaft and began to slap my face with his growing cock. The sound was wet, a soft thwack against my skin. With each slap, it hardened, lengthening until it was a solid, six-inch pillar of flesh, the girth of it looking impossibly wide. The head flared into a perfect, angry-looking mushroom, a single bead of clear fluid welling up at the slit.
“Open up, cocksucker. Take it.”
I opened my mouth, and he fed it to me. The stretch was immediate, my jaw aching as the wide head passed my lips. The texture was incredible—velvet skin over an unyielding core of steel. I could feel the thick, ropelike vein on the underside pulsing against my tongue as I slowly took him deeper. The precum was a burst of salt and sweetness, a taste that short-circuited my hesitation. This was real. I was doing it again.
“Mmmmm,” I moaned, the sound muffled by the mouthful of cock.
“Yeah, you missed this, didn’t you?” Mark’s voice was above me, a low taunt. He tangled his hand in my hair, not forcing me, just holding me there. A claim of ownership. “That’s it. Work that mouth. Show me what a married man’s mouth can do.”
I found a rhythm, a slow, worshipful glide, just like I always wished Sarah would do for me. I pulled back until just the tip was between my lips, my tongue swirling around the sensitive ridge, then pushed down, taking him until my nose was buried in his wiry pubic hair. The smell was intoxicating, raw and masculine. I did it again and again, losing myself in the act, in the sheer, depraved joy of being on my knees for this man.
After a few minutes of my slow worship, he grew impatient. His grip on my hair tightened, and he took over. “My turn,” he grunted, and began to fuck my face. His strokes were slow at first, deliberate, pulling out until the head rested on my tongue, then pushing deep, forcing the thick head into the entrance of my throat. I gagged, my body convulsing, but I fought it down, breathing sharply through my nose. Drool, thick and messy, spilled from the corners of my mouth, dripping down my chin and onto my chest. The feeling of being used, of my mouth being nothing more than a hole for his pleasure, sent a jolt straight to my own cock, which was now painfully hard in my jeans.
“That’s a good bitch,” he praised, his voice strained with pleasure. “Take that fucking cock. You like having a real man’s dick down your throat, don’t you? Not that little pencil dick you have at home.”
“Yeth shirr,” I mumbled, the words distorted, full of cock.
He picked up the pace, his thrusts becoming more forceful. His balls, heavy and tight, slapped against my chin with each deep push. I could feel him getting close, the way his shaft seemed to harden even more, the head swelling. But he pulled away suddenly, leaving my mouth feeling empty, cold.
“On your feet,” he commanded, his cock glistening, pointing straight at me. “Strip. Now.”
I scrambled to my feet, my fingers fumbling with the button on my jeans. I shucked off my clothes, my own seven-inch cock springing free, bobbing in the air. It felt inadequate next to his thick tool.
“Alright, little breeder,” he sneered, looking down at my erection. “You want to be a cum slut? Prove it. Jack off. Shoot your pathetic little load all over my cock. Don’t you dare spill a fucking drop on my floor, or you’ll be licking it up like a dog.”
“Yes, sir,” I breathed, my hand wrapping around my shaft. The humiliation was a potent aphrodisiac. I began to stroke myself, my eyes locked on his magnificent cock, waiting to receive my offering. It didn’t take long. The year-long denial, the intense stimulation, the sheer degradation of the moment—it all coalesced into a white-hot pressure in my groin.
“Ah, fuck,” I grunted, my hips bucking. My cock head flared, and a thick rope of cum shot out, landing perfectly on the bulbous head of his dick. Another followed, then another, coating his shaft and dripping down onto his hairy balls. I cupped my hand under his cock to catch the runoff, a puddle of my own milky fluid collecting in my palm.
“Clean it,” he ordered.
I didn’t hesitate. I dropped back to my knees and engulfed his cum-slicked cock. The taste was a shock—salty, bitter, with that faint, ammonia tang of my own seed. I pushed down, my tongue scooping as much of it as I could, swirling the mixture of his precum and my ejaculate around his shaft. I pulled off and meticulously cleaned his balls, then lapped the pool of cum from my own palm, adding it to the frothy mess in my mouth. I swirled it around, savoring the taste of my own submission, before looking up at him.
He smirked. “Open.” I did, showing him the frothy load coating my tongue. “Pathetic. Swallow that pussy cum and get ready for a man’s load.”
I swallowed, the thick fluid sliding down my throat, and immediately took his hard cock back into my mouth. I was just getting into a rhythm again, my tongue probing the slit of his cock, when a sharp, loud knock echoed from the front door.
Mark froze, his cock still in my mouth. “Stay,” he whispered, pulling out and stepping back. He walked to the door, completely naked, his hard cock leading the way. I heard the deadbolt turn, then muffled voices. Male voices. Laughter.
A moment of pure, cold panic seized me. This wasn’t part of it. My clothes were in a pile across the room. I was naked, on my knees, with the taste of cum in my mouth. The instinct to flee, to grab my jeans and run, was overwhelming. But then I heard Mark’s voice, clear as a bell. “Yeah, this married breeder I told you about. He’s a natural-born cocksucker, dude. In the bedroom, waiting for another load.”
My flight impulse died, replaced by a sick, exhilarating dread. Another man. A third man was about to see me like this.
Mark walked back in, followed by another guy. This man was taller, with a shaved head and a goatee. His body was leaner, more wiry, but what drew my eye was the size of the cock swinging between his legs. Even soft, it looked huge, a thick hose hanging over a pair of balls that seemed impossibly large, tight against his body.
“See?” Mark said to the newcomer, gesturing at me. “My little faggot slave. Aren’t you, slut?”
I looked from one man to the other, my throat dry. I had to answer. “Yes, sir.”
“Yes sir, what?” Mark demanded, his voice hard.
“Yes, sir… I’m your faggot slave.”
The bald man laughed, a deep, resonant sound. He walked over and grabbed my hair, yanking my head back. His heavy cock slapped against my cheek. It was like a warm club. “So you love sucking cock, slave?” he growled.
“Yes, sir,” I stammered, the sting in my scalp making my eyes water. “I love sucking a man’s cock.”
“You mean a real man’s cock,” he corrected, his other hand gripping his shaft and rubbing the head across my lips. “Not that little breeder dick you’re packing. You were born to service real men, weren’t you?”
“Yes, sir. I love the cocks of real men.”
“Well, let’s see what that mouth can do,” he said. “Put it where it belongs, bitch.”
I leaned forward, opening my mouth to take his massive head, but my movement was met with a stinging slap across my face. His open hand was hard and it left my cheek burning.
“I didn’t say you could touch me with your hands,” he snarled. “Use your fucking mouth. Only your mouth.”
My face smarting, I moved in, my mouth wide. I engulfed the head of his cock, and it was like trying to swallow a plum. It was silky, firm, and filled my entire oral cavity. Before I could adjust, he grabbed the sides of my head and rammed his entire length down my throat. I gagged violently, my body convulsing as the thick head punched past my gag reflex. Drool and bile rose in my throat. I couldn’t breathe. Panic flared, but I forced myself to suck air through my nose, calming the spasms. He held himself there, buried to the hilt, his pubic hair tickling my nose.
“Fuck yeah,” he groaned, pulling back slightly before ramming in again. “No ‘straight’ guy takes a dick like that on the first try. This one’s a pro. A natural-born faggot.”
“He told me he hadn’t done this in over a year,” Mark chuckled. “Guess some things you just don’t forget.”
The bald man began to fuck my face in earnest. His thrusts were brutal, pulling almost all the way out before slamming back in, his heavy balls slapping against my chin with every stroke. My jaw ached, my throat was raw, but my own cock was twitching, dripping a steady stream of precum onto the floor. I was a mess. A drooling, gagging, degraded mess, and I had never been more aroused in my life.
“Alright, let’s see how deep he can really take it,” the bald man said, pulling his cock from my abused mouth with a wet pop. A string of saliva connected us for a moment before breaking. “On the bed. On your back, head hanging off the side. Let’s open up that throat-pussy proper.”
I scrambled to obey, my body moving on instinct. I laid down across the bed, letting my head fall back over the edge. The world was upside down. I saw the bald man approach, his massive cock looking even larger from this angle. He slapped it against my face, my nose, my lips.
“Open wide, bitch. Time for the main course.”
I opened my mouth, and he drove his cock straight down. From this angle, there was no resistance. He slid into my throat, deeper than before, his pubic bone crushing against my nose. He established a punishing rhythm, a relentless piston of flesh. I was nothing but a sheath for his cock. Gagging sounds ripped from my throat, drool ran into my eyes and hair, blurring my vision. I was choking, drowning in him, and my cock was so hard it hurt.
“Look at him,” Mark’s voice said from somewhere in the room. “His dick is leaking all over the place. He fucking loves this.”
The pressure in my throat, the lack of air, the sheer overwhelming force of it—it all became a blur. Then I felt his cock swell, the vein on the underside pulsing against my tongue. He let out a guttural roar and buried himself to the hilt.
“Fuck! Take it! Take all my fucking cum, you whore!”
Jets of thick, hot cum erupted directly into my throat. He pulled back slightly, and the next blasts coated my tongue, filling my mouth. The taste was incredible—salty, sweet, slightly bitter, and overwhelmingly male. He pumped what felt like a gallon into me before finally pulling his spent cock from my lips. It was followed by a wave of cum and drool that splattered across my face.
He slapped my face with his softening cock one last time. “Clean it,” he ordered. I licked and sucked the head, gathering every last drop of his seed.
Mark was there now, his own thick cock hard again. “My turn,” he said, simply. He stepped up and slid into my cum-filled mouth, and the process began all over again.
Mark’s entry was different. Where the bald man—Leo, I’d later learn his name was—was a brutal storm, Mark was a force of nature, steady and crushing. He didn’t slam into me; he sank. He slid his thick, meaty cock into my already well-used mouth, the girth of it stretching my jaw anew. The taste of his clean, salty precum mixed with the lingering, complex flavor of Leo’s massive load, creating a potent cocktail of submission.
He set a slow, deep rhythm, pulling out until my lips kissed the tip of his mushroom head, then pushing in until his pubic hair pressed against my chin. It was methodical, almost meditative. He was reclaiming his property, using his friend’s cum as lubricant to stake his claim.
“Look at this fucking mess,” Mark grunted, his voice thick with lust. He was looking down at my face, I was sure of it. A canvas of spit and semen. “You’re a goddamn masterpiece of depravity, aren’t you? A married man, on his knees in a stranger’s apartment, covered in cum, with two cocks in his belly. What would your pretty little wife say if she could see you now?”
The words were poison, and they went straight to my cock. I moaned around his shaft, the vibration making him hiss in pleasure. The shame was a physical thing, a hot knot in my stomach that was rapidly unraveling into pure, unadulterated need. He was right. This is what I was. Not a husband, not a breeder, but this. A receptacle. A toy.
Leo wasn’t idle. I heard him moving around the room, then the sound of a drawer opening. “You’re gonna break him in good, Mark,” Leo said, his voice closer now. “But I think we’re wasting this prime real estate.”
He was standing beside me. I couldn’t see him, my view of the world was Mark’s stomach and the ceiling, but I could feel his presence. I felt a hand, rough and warm, start to knead my ass cheek. I flinched, my body tensing. This was new. This was the line.
“Relax, slut,” Leo’s voice was a low growl. “We’re just admiring the view.” His hand moved, spreading my cheeks, and I felt a wave of cool air on my most private, guarded place. No one had ever touched me there. No one had ever been allowed. My ass clenched reflexively, a knot of pure panic.
Mark felt the tension in my throat. “Ah, the final frontier,” he chuckled, never breaking his slow, deep thrusts. “What’s the matter, faggot? Don’t want to give up that virgin ass? Thought you could just suck cock and call it a day? That’s not how this works. A mouth is just the gateway. The ass is the destination.”
Leo spit. I felt the wet glob land directly on my hole, making me shudder. Then a finger, thick and insistent, began to circle the tight ring of muscle. It was an alien sensation, invasive and deeply humiliating.
“Fuck, he’s tight,” Leo muttered, pressing the tip of his finger against my entrance. “Tighter than a drum. You’re gonna have to pop this cherry, Mark. It’s only right.”
Mark pulled his cock from my mouth, leaving me gasping for air. A string of drool connected my lips to his cockhead. He looked down at me, his eyes dark and predatory. “He’s right. Your training isn’t complete until you learn to take a cock up your ass. Until you learn what it feels like to be truly, completely owned.”
He moved away, and Leo took his place between my legs. I felt the weight of him on the bed, his powerful thighs bracketing my own. His massive, semi-hard cock rested on my stomach, a heavy, warm reminder of what was coming.
“Please, sir,” I whispered, the words barely audible. It wasn’t a refusal. It was a prayer. A last-ditch plea from the part of me that was still a husband, still a “straight” man.
Leo just laughed. “Oh, we’ll make you beg, bitch. But not for us to stop. You’ll be begging for more.” He grabbed my hips and, in one smooth motion, flipped me over. My face was pressed into the mattress, my ass raised high in the air. The position was utterly vulnerable, exposing me completely.
“Hold him down,” Leo commanded.
Mark was there, his weight settling on my back, his hands pinning my shoulders to the bed. I was trapped, a fly caught between two spiders. I could feel Mark’s hard cock pressing against my lower back, a promise of what was to come.
Then I felt it again. Leo’s tongue. This time, it wasn’t just a lick. He buried his face between my cheeks, his tongue laving my hole with long, wet strokes. The sensation was electric. It was disgusting, and it was the most intensely erotic thing I had ever felt. He was bathing me, preparing me, marking me with his saliva. He pushed the pointed tip of his tongue against my clenched sphincter, and this time, with the overwhelming stimulation, it relaxed just enough for him to slip inside.
I cried out into the mattress, a muffled sound of shock and pleasure. His tongue was inside me, probing, twisting, opening me up from the inside. The feeling was indescribable—a wet, invasive heat that sent spasms of pleasure straight to my own forgotten cock. My body was betraying me, melting under their dual assault.
“Yeah, you like that, don’t you, you little ass-slut?” Mark’s voice was hot in my ear. “You like having your hole eaten? Get used to it. From now on, this is your primary function. This,” he said, grinding his cock against my back, “is just for fun. That,” he nodded toward my ass, “is for work.”
Leo pulled his tongue out, leaving my hole feeling cold and gaping. I heard the squirt of a bottle, and then a cold, wet gel was being applied to my ass. His finger was back, but this time it was slick with lube. He pushed it in, slowly, insistently. The burn was sharp, a stretching, tearing sensation that made me whimper.
“Shhh, take it,” Leo soothed, his voice a mocking parody of comfort. He worked his finger in and out, twisting it, scissoring it, opening me up. The pain began to subside, replaced by a strange, full feeling. Then he added a second finger. The burn returned, more intense this time. I squirmed, trying to escape, but Mark’s hold was like iron.
“Stay still, faggot,” Mark ordered, slapping the side of my head. “You don’t move unless we tell you to. Your body belongs to us now.”
I stopped fighting. I went limp, surrendering completely. Leo worked my hole with two fingers, then three. He was methodical, stretching me, loosening me, preparing me for his monstrous cock. I was moaning continuously now, a mix of pain and a pleasure so deep it was almost agony. My own cock was trapped beneath me, leaking a puddle of precum onto the bedspread.
“I think he’s ready,” Leo announced, pulling his fingers out with a wet squelch.
I felt a profound emptiness, a sudden need to be filled again. I heard the rip of a foil packet, and then the slick, heavy head of Leo’s cock was pressing against my well-lubed hole.
“Breathe out, slut,” he commanded.
I did, and as the air left my lungs, he pushed. The head of his cock breached my ring with a searing, white-hot flash of pain. I screamed into the mattress, my whole body convulsing. It was too much. He was too big. He was going to split me in half.
“Fuck yeah,” Leo groaned, holding himself there, letting me adjust to the impossible intrusion. “Tightest fucking ass I’ve ever had.”
He pushed in another inch, and another. The pain was blinding, a fire consuming me. But underneath it, something else was stirring. A deep, primal ache that was slowly transforming into something else. Something dark and wonderful. He kept pushing, a slow, relentless invasion, until I felt his hips press against my ass. He was all the way in. His entire, massive cock was buried inside me.
I was full. I was possessed. I was ruined.
He began to move. Slowly at first, pulling out an inch before pushing back in. Each movement sent a jolt through me. The pain was fading, being replaced by a deep, resonant pleasure that seemed to emanate from my very core. He was hitting a spot inside me, a place I never knew existed, that sent lightning bolts of ecstasy through my body.
“Look at him, he’s taking it,” Mark said, his voice filled with approval. He shifted his weight, and I felt his hand wrap around my cock. It was the first time either of them had touched it. “He’s fucking hard as a rock. The little bitch loves having his ass split open.”
Mark began to stroke my cock in time with Leo’s thrusts. The dual stimulation was too much. Leo began to fuck me in earnest now, his long, thick strokes pulling almost all the way out before slamming back in, his heavy balls slapping against my own. The sounds coming from me were no longer human; they were animal grunts and whimpers of pure, unadulterated need.
“Please,” I sobbed, “please, sir… harder…”
Leo laughed, a triumphant sound. “I knew you’d be begging for it.” He obliged, his thrusts becoming faster, more brutal. He was pounding my ass, using me, owning me, and I was pushing back, meeting his thrusts, wanting more, wanting all of it.
Mark’s hand tightened on my shaft. “You’re going to cum, faggot,” he stated. “You’re going to cum with my friend’s cock buried in your ass, and you’re going to thank us for it.”
That was all it took. The command, the humiliation, the overwhelming pleasure. My body seized up, my back arching as a tidal wave of an orgasm ripped through me. I screamed, a raw, guttural sound of release as my cock exploded, spurting thick ropes of cum all over Mark’s hand and the bedspread beneath me. It was the most intense orgasm of my life, a full-body convulsion that seemed to last forever.
As my ass clenched and spasmed around his cock, Leo roared and slammed into me one last time. I felt him swell, and then a deep, pulsing heat filled my ass as he pumped his load deep inside my bowels. The feeling of being filled with his cum, of being marked and claimed so completely, sent another, smaller wave of pleasure through my spent body.
Leo collapsed on top of me, his weight a welcome pressure. We were all breathing heavily, the room thick with the smell of sweat, cum, and sex. After a moment, he pulled his softening cock out of my abused hole, and I felt a trickle of his cum run down my thigh.
Mark got off my back. He looked at his cum-covered hand, then at my face. “Open up,” he ordered.
I did, and he shoved his fingers into my mouth, making me clean my own cum from his hand. I sucked them greedily, tasting myself, the final act of my total and complete surrender.
“Get dressed,” Mark said, his voice cold and dismissive. He stood up, already looking bored with me. “Get the fuck out of my apartment.”
Leo was already pulling on his jeans, not even looking at me. I was just a used toy, to be discarded now that the fun was over.
My body ached. My jaw was sore, my throat was raw, and my ass felt like it was on fire. I slowly, painfully, got to my feet and started to gather my clothes. As I pulled my jeans on, the rough denim chafing against my tender, cum-slicked ass, Mark spoke again.
“That was your first time,” he said, not a question. “Next time, you’ll be begging for it before you even walk through that door. And you will be back.”
I looked at him, at the arrogant confidence in his eyes. He was right. I knew, with a certainty that settled in my very bones, that he was right. I had crossed a line I could never uncross. I walked out of the apartment, my body aching and my mind a wreck, my phone already in my hand, searching for Mark’s number.