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THE FOLLOWING IS A MOSTLY TRUE STORY OF MY FIRST YEAR AT COLLEGE. I've never really told anyone (not even my best friends or therapists) most of this stuff because I know they'll say I was abused. And that's not true at all.
Often, (I'm ashamed to say) I still find myself missing Master Adam. Sure: it's been 13 years since the day he last spoke to and fucked me. 13 lonnnnnnnng years, yet some nights I still cry myself to sleep thinking about him. (Usually while fucking myself red-raw with my hugest dildo. The footlong one. Master Adam gave it to me as part of my training when I was 17 years old, a couple weeks after we first met. I still think about him whenever I plunge that 12-incher up my bunghole, which I try to do at least a couple times a day.) He lives in D.C. now with his wife and two kids. They're all so beautiful. And even though he hasn't spoken to me in over a decade, I still pray every day that he's happy and getting all the respect he deserves. Honestly, I'd still give my life for this man. . . Without him, I'd never have become the nasty fagslut I was born to be.
Master Adam was the T.A. for one of my very first classes freshman year. The moment I laid eyes on him, I thought: "now THAT's the kind of man you want fucking babies into you!" He must've noticed my pathetic mooning over him, because two weeks into the class, he took me aside and said: "If you let me fuck you, I'll make sure you get an A." Blushing and giggling, I said: "I don't want the A that way, Sir. I like to work hard for my grades. Plus I don't want you getting in any trouble. . ." Then I whispered: "But you can fuck me for free anytime you want."
He wanted to fuck me right that very moment, it turned out. In a bathroom stall across the hall, over a handicapped toilet clogged with days-old shit. Then later that night, three more times in his apartment, after we both got properly drunk. Then two more times the next morning. When afternoon came, he asked if he could invite a buddy over to "spit-roast" me. Even though I was nervous, and didn't know what "spit-roasting" was, I giggled and spread my cummy hole for him and said "Daddy, you never need to ask my permission to do stuff like that." He laughed and said he "really struck gold this time."
Half an hour later, his buddy showed up. He didn't even say hi to me or tell me his name. But just a couple minutes after he walked in the door, his dick went balls-deep down my throat; at the same time, Master Adam shoved balls-deep into me from behind. It hurt really bad, and I was really scared. I didn't want them to find out this was my first time being with two men at once. What if I was bad at being spit-roasted, and Master Adam didn't like me anymore? Every moment it was happening, I wanted to cry. It lasted for about three hours.
Neither man really said anything the whole time, so I had no idea what they were thinking or feeling. They just grunted and switched holes every once in a while. Plus each one of them barked "I'm cumming! I'm cumming!" a handful of times, before roaring as they splooged up my butthole, down my throat, or all over my face. At one point (when my mouth wasn't full of dick, balls, or asshole, so I could finally catch my breath for a second) I asked them: "Am I doing a good job, Daddy?" They both just laughed at me, then Master Adam said he and his friend were going out to dinner together. Without me. I hadn't had anything to eat all weekend yet, but I didn't dare complain.
"Don't go anywhere, and don't touch anything," he told me before they left. He also took my phone with him. "I don't need you texting your little girlfriends how IN LOVE you are with me and ruining my fucking life." (Later, I learned that he'd also grabbed my phone so he could send all my nudes to himself while he was out to dinner with his buddies.) Before slamming the front door, he shouted into the bedroom: "You better be naked and ready to go again when we get back!" They didn't hear me scream back "YES, DADDY!" because they were already gone.
Five hours later, they came back belligerently drunk and reeking of cigs and pot. They also brought three more "buddies" back with them, but I never got their names either. None of them talked to me all night long, they just occasionally talked ABOUT me while they quintuple-teamed me. Most of the time, it was like I didn't exist. Anytime I said anything, they'd laugh at me, and sometimes spit on me or slap me. They kept partying as they gangbanged me, but nobody offered me anything to eat, drink, or smoke. But that's okay, I didn't need anything anyway. I was in Heaven. Nothing this amazing had ever happened to me before. When the sun came up the next day, I was still being spit-roasted. I was too tired to be able to tell whose dicks were inside me, and plus my vision wasn't so good anymore, but I didn't care.
All I could think about that morning, when I first felt the sunlight sting my crusty eyes, was how lucky I was. And how beautiful the world was. As the party slowed to a stop, I realized for the first time that Master Adam had two gigantic fishbowls overflowing with condoms on either side of his bed. Hundreds and hundreds of condoms in the room, yet nobody had used a single condom on me the entire weekend. That's the moment I fell in love with him. Before all Master Adam's friends left, they made me fart out all their loads into a dirty bowl from the sink, then lick it clean on all fours while they took pictures and videos of me doing it. I loved making these men laugh and smile, and say things like "Dude, that's SO nasty!!!"
After all his buddies left, Master Adam had me ride him a couple times while he lay down and rest. After he took a quick nap, he had me eat his ass for a couple hours while he ate chili and watched a football game he'd taped from the day before. Every time he farted around my tongue, I moaned and said "Thank you, Daddy." This made him snigger the first few times, but then he stopped acknowledging it whenever he farted into my mouth for the rest of the day. I still thanked Daddy for each and every one of his spicy farts, though. When he finished his second bowl of chili, he told me it was "time to get lost."
I got dressed without a word, then was about to walk out the door when I remembered my phone. Master Adam laughed and said I'd get my phone back after I cleaned his dick off. "Of course, Daddy," I giggled, and immediately sunk to my knees (mortified that I hadn't thought to offer to spit-shine his dick myself already.) As I deep-throated his pillar of manhood and ass-juice, he explained that he'd sent all my nudes to himself the night before. "And if you ever, EVER, tell anyone about me fucking you, I'm posting ALL of them EVERYWHERE," he warned me. "With your full name, too. I'm taking a huge risk sleeping with you like this. . ."
"I know, Daddy. I'm sorry," I said, before gagging myself on his dick and tonguing his hairy balls to make him feel better. When he came, he howled and called me a stupid faggot. Then he told me to "scram," got right up, and hopped in the shower. The sound of him whistling in the shower that day is still one of the sexiest things I've ever heard. As I shut the door behind me, I couldn't help but smile at the fact that he was happily washing away all evidence of me, while his and his friends' cock-snot and stink-sauce were still caked all over my face and leaking out my swollen butthole.
For two weeks, he ignored all my calls and texts, and wouldn't even talk to me or look at me in class. What's worse is he started giving me D's on all my assignments and wouldn't tell me why. He just kept writing "Try harder" on all my work. When he finally let me come over to his apartment one night, I asked him with tears in my eyes about my recent terrible grades in his class. He scoffed and said: "Jesus! You BEG me and BEG me to give you `the D,' and even when I give it to you, all you do is complain. Stupid fag."
I laughed so hard at this that I started to cry. "I love you, Daddy!" I told him, crawling into his lap, straddling him and moaning. "I really mean it. I love you! And I'll do anything for you, Daddy. Anything you want, whenever you want." That's when he told me to start calling him "Master Adam." He taught me a lot, and always made sure that both my holes were swollen, sore and stuffed full of cock and cum. (Until he "got bored" of me, the day I turned 18, and told me never to contact him again. But there's still much more to the story before that happens.)
Please let me know what you think. Like I said, I've never really told this story to anyone until now. And I've never posted here before, but you don't need to be gentle with me. All I wanna do is help you cum, and also learn how to be a better writer for you, because there's a lot more to this story, and I wanna tell you every detail as best I can. You can also hit me up on IG: DaddysNastyF4g5lut, but just be warned that some of my writing there is fictional.