The Classified Ad 6 (Mf anal humil choke) by Foxbat



Disclaimer: This story contains graphic sex should not be
read if such stories are illegal in your state, or if you are a minor.

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disclaimer and author's name remain intact and unaltered.

For previous parts, or other stories of mine, please check out
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you can find all of my work as well as some recommendations.  All
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The Classified Ad 6 (Mf anal humil choke) by Foxbat



   I knew he would make me pay for it, that he would do something more than he usually did to "punish" me.  But I was a little drunk and more than a little horny.

   Being a student athlete, I didn't go out very often since morning practice always comes early.  But we'd just won a big game that night and had a respite from practice for a few days as we were near the end of our season.  A bunch of my teammates and I had gone out, and when the talk turned to boys I started getting turned on thinking of my man.  But because we weren't dating so much as fucking, I didn't have much to contribute.  I think they suspected I was seeing someone, though - they probably just thought I was too prudish to discuss it.

   So I called him.  He was very short on the phone:

   "What."  It was more of a statement than a question when he answered.

   I explained I'd been out and that I wanted to see him.

   "You want to see me, or you want to get fucked?" he asked.  I could picture him with that inscrutable look on his face, waiting for me admit my weakness.

   I looked around the bar to make sure no one else was in immediate earshot.  I'd gone to the back of the bar to make the call, leaving my girlfriends at the table.   "I want you to fuck my brains out."

   "I'll be there in five.  You'd better have your panties in your hands when I get there."   

   The line went dead.  I glanced back at our table - I'd contemplated meeting back at my place, but this was ok.  I ducked into the ladies room and stepped out of my red thong.  I hadn't gone out with the intention of having it seen, but something about it made me feel sexy-dirty, and I liked feeling that way when I went out.  I wadded it up into a small ball of dampness in my hand, and went back out.

   Just as I stepped back outside, I saw him enter the bar.  He was dressed in black, and had probably been out himself.  He had an irritated expression on his face, like a parent forced to go on an errand for a thoughtless child.  I caught his eye, and he strode towards the back of the bar directly towards me.

   When he came close, he moved me back up against the back wall by invading my personal space until I had to step backwards.  He regarded me for a moment, staring at me like a possession, as if he were debating how much I mattered to him, disdain in his eyes.

   I meekly presented my fistful of red panty, which he grabbed.  Making no effort to conceal what was in his other hand, he grabbed me by the elbow and ushered (read as dragged) me back towards the bathrooms.  I tried to turn towards the Womens room, but he pushed me past it.  

   Will roughly yanked the door open to the Mens room.  A startled guy looked up from sitting on the toilet.

   "Get out."

   The small part of my brain that still functioned through the haze of sexually heightened fear noted that Will's voice of command seemed to have an effect on more than just me.  His deadpan monotone, delivered with complete calm, seemed to convey confidence at an animal level.

   After a moment of confusion, the man shitting looked down and muttered, "ok... jeez."  

   Will made no motion to leave and didn't break eye contact.  I blushed furiously and tried to look like I wasn't part of this scene, which was difficult considering that Will still had a vice-grip lock on  my arm.

   In abbreviated embarrassed motions, the man stood, wiped, and hitched up his pants.  He moved to leave.

   "Flush."

   He paused, and then complied, still looking down.  As he shuffled out, still doing his belt, Will pushed me in and closed the door, locking it with the small slide lock that looked like it provided only purely symbolic protection.

   "Take your dress off."

   I complied, pulling my slinky black dress over my head.  I was now naked except for my high heels.  Will hooked my dress on a wall hook provided for jackets, and stuffed my panties (which had remained visible in his hand until now) into his pocket.

   "Get on your knees, slut."

   I looked at the floor.  The bathroom was small (a single holer) and the walls were covered with graffiti.  The floor was wet with sink water and urine, papier-mached with stray pieces of tp, kleenex and newspaper.  The whole place was dark, a little cold, and smelled.

   I got on my knees, feeling the slickness between my legs.  I burned with shame at the thought - I was already aroused at the thought of blowing him on the bathroom floor of some bar bathroom.  I imagined what my friends would think.

   I knew what to do next.  I unzipped his fly and fished around until I found his cock.  I licked my lips and started sucking on the head.  I saw a bright light and felt pain as Will slapped me hard.

   "You don't get to suck my cock tonight.  I get to fuck your face."

   With one hand across the back of my head wrapped in my hair, and one hand under my chin, he began to piston his cock in and out of my mouth, forcing it all the way down on the in-stroke.

   Let me take a momentary diversion here.

   I first discovered internet porn when I was in middle school.  One of my girlfriends was was triumphantly bragging about giving a blowjob to one of the guys in the in-clique.  I remember listening, and trying very hard to control my reactions.  I knew I was probably flushing, but hoped it would be mistaken for blushing as I tried hard to breath slowly.  She described how his dick looked, veined and throbbing in her hand.  I shifted in my seat, hyperaware of the wet spot slowly spreading under my through my panties.  I imagined it was me, with his large organ in my hand, him sneering down at me with a premature look of satisfaction.

   She described how it tasted, salty and musty.  I imagined it in my mouth, me looking up at him as I pleasured him.  Him looking down at me, stroking my hair.  I imagined my lips moving over the veins, my tongue swirling.  She described how he came, breathing hard and grunting.  I imagined the pulses of hot sperm shooting out.  She described, with distaste, how he had pushed her head down, almost making her gag.  I imagined, with a flush of dirty excitement, him pushing my head down as he grunted out his orgasm.  I imagined him looking down at me, making me lick him clean.  

   There, in front of my girlfriends, at the end of the blow-by-blow, was the only time I've ever had an orgasm without touching myself.  I squeezed my legs together as the images in my head pushed me over the edge.

   "Isn't that gross?"  one friend asked, mistaking my stifled gasp of pleasure for a stifled choke of disgust.

   "That's nasty," I agreed.

   That night, I could think of nothing else.  I sat at my computer, my homework staring back at me, trying to concentrate.  Almost without realizing it, I typed "blow job" into the search bar.

   I came immediately back to reality as images - dirty, nasty, obscene images jumped onto the screen.  In a panic, I closed the window.  But the images were still in my mind.  I made sure my parents were downstairs, and then I deliberately went back.  I came again and again that night, in the blue light of the monitor, with two fingers in my vagina and two in my mouth, captivated by the image of a woman pushing her tongue out under a giant penis shoved more than halfway into her mouth.

   Guilt and shame washed over me immediately afterwards, but it wasn't long before I was back.

   One evening, I saw a woman with her nose buried in the man's public hair.  At first I thought it was a small penis, but the later images revealed the contrary.  She had somehow swallowed the whole thing.  Over the next few months, cucumbers and pickles disappeared from our refrigerator.  I looked at images on the internet, and tried to emulate them, but I had a strong gag reflex.  More than one session ended with one hand in my snatch as I choked and gagged against green phalluses purchased in the produce aisle.

   So to get back to the main story, I had some limited experience with deepthroating, and some strong gag reflexes.

   Will paid no regard to this fact.  When I gagged, he forced his cock in farther.  When I really gagged and heaved, he pulled out and pushed my head over the toilet.  Then he slapped my and continued the face-fuck.  It was debasing and demeaning in the worst way - on my knees in a bar bathroom, my nose in his public hair, his balls against my chin.  His eyes were closed.  I was just a fuckhole to him.  Annoyance read on his face when I gagged and had to be slapped.  I let one hand drift down to my slopping pussy.

   After a minute or two he noticed.  The cock withdrew from my mouth, and instead of a slap, I was hauled upright by my hair.  His other hand clamped down across my throat, as he made me look him in the eyes.  My hand became a blur as I climbed desperately towards orgasm before my oxygen ran out.  Just as I approached the edge, he released my throat and ripped my hand away from my pussy.  I moaned in disappointment.  He sneered.

   "If my slut's so horny, she can fuck this."  He picked an empty beer bottle from the top of the toilet tank and handed it to me.  I looked back at him, and he spit into my face.

   "Fuck yourself."  He commanded.  The bottle was cold against my pussy lips, as I pushed it in.  I could feel his hand in my hair, his eyes on me boring into head.  He shoved my head back down towards his cock.  I squatted on the bottle, feeling cheap and whorish, like some kind of drug junky too fixated to realize how low they've come.  Will resumed fucking my mouth.

   When he pulled out a minute later, I thought he was going to finally fuck me.  The bottle had warmed up and the motion of my body against it was driving me insane.  I began to stand, but he pushed me back down, forcing the bottle further into my vagina, the wide flange at the base of the neck sending shivers up my spine.

   Then, out of nowhere, thick globs of jizz landed on my face.  He was cumming on my face, forcing my head back with his hand in my hair, stroking his dick with his other hand.  

   I felt used, cheap.  Forced to blow him, and given nothing in exchange except a load of jizz smeared across my face for all to see, like some kind of inverse stigmata, signaling to all that I'm a slutty cunt willing to service anyone, accepting gratefully whatever they give me.  I pictured going out in the bar, trying to walk past my girlfriends as the cum thickened and dried, them looking at me and whispering to each other what a cheap whore that girl Alison is.

   "I'm not done yet, cunt."  Will growled.  He was still hard, one hand idly stroking his erection.  His cock was an angry dark red.

   "Get on your hands and knees.  And don't let that bottle out of your dirty cunt."

   I followed his order, all thoughts of the piss-covered floor gone.  I pushed the bottle further into my pussy as I arched my ass up towards him.  The edge of the toilet bowl was inches from my face, and the smell of urine and vomit was strong.  I wanted him to fuck me, to use me again, to beat me until I was forced to admit my depravity in terms no one could deny.  A drop of cum hung from my nose of a long silky strand before dropping onto the floor.

   "Beg."

   I begged, not knowing the words I was speaking.  I pleaded with him to do anything he wanted, but to please give me back his cock.  He looked back with haughty disgust - the look people give beggars who eat food out of the trash.

   "Your pussy is too dirty.  I'm not putting my dick where that gross bottle has been."

   I begged him to fuck my ass instead.  Without saying anything, he pushed his cock slowly but forcefully into my ass.  It burned with nothing other than his cum and my spit from earlier to lubricate the way.  He fucked my ass for his pleasure, using it as he had earlier used my face with total disregard for my comfort or pleasure.

   I felt his hand pushing my face down until I saw the yellow stains and pubic hairs stuck to the toilet rim, the smell overwhelming.  With a single hard shove, my head face plunged into the shockingly cold toilet water.  He held me there until the burn in my lungs matched the burn in my asshole.  

   I was transfixed by the depravity as I shuttled the bottle in my pussy back and forth in time to the cock in my ass, gasping when he pulled my face up and drowning when he pushed it down.  My mind exploded in brilliant colors, intensified by the lack of air as he relentlessly fucked me, spearing me, raping me for his pleasure.  I felt him cum into my ass, and it pushed me into a second mind-blowing orgasm.

   When I was able to gather my wits about me, I looked up to see him.  His hands were folded across his chest, his pants done back up, as he leaned against the wall, as if waiting for me to finish.  His smile was smug, the only indication that he appreciated my experience.  He handed my me black dress, and I pulled it over my head.  As I tugged down the bottom and adjusted my boobs, I saw movement in the corner of my eye.

   I spun as Will opened the door and walked out.  There was a line of three guys, standing there wide-eyed.  Will tossed my red panties to the first one in line as he walked by.  I jumped out of the bathroom and nearly ran out of the bar.  My face was wet (although I think it had helped to wash the cum off), and I could feel the jizz leaking from my ass as I burst out into the street, looking for Will.

   He had disappeared.  I took a few uncertain steps down the street before a hand reached out from an alley and grabbed me.  The figure shoved me against the wall, knocking the air out of my lungs.  Before I could scream or breathe, a hand was squeezing my throat and three fingers had been jammed into my still-wet pussy.  Will's face was pressed against mine, looking into my eyes with an intensity that was rare, even for him.  He bit my ear, breathing hard.  Blackness began to crowd my vision and my knees went weak as I exploded into one last mindblowing orgasm, right there in the alley, penetrated by one hand thrust up under my dress.




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I have thoughts for one more episode, but I don't want to make guarantees.


As always, I love to hear your thoughts, criticisms, reactions or comments (foxbat00@gmail.com).

Yours,
Foxbat

