The Phantom the Toys and the Brute By A. Nonnymoose (a.nonnymoose8@gmail.com)
This is fictional tale based on the sexual adventures of Rod (basque9 on LPSG). It is a total fantasy.
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The Phantom the Toys and the Brute
It was a quiet night. Rod had nodded off watching the news. He went to bed early -- he wasn't sure what time. He left the patio door open to catch the breeze - left the screen shut to discourage woodland creatures. Half asleep, he heard a sound that he thought might be the patio screen opening, but disregarded it. Then, he heard a sound that he thought might be the patio screen closing. He cautiously opened his eyes. Someone was standing in his room - a shadowy phantom figure looming at the foot of his bed
"Don't be frightened, Rod. Here, I'll turn on this light." The light came on. The man turned around and said, "I told you that I'd be seeing you again." Aaaah! This was no phantom! It was Angus - Angus the fist-fucker. He was naked and hard. Rod's brain wanted him to scream and run. Instead, his cock got hard. Angus smiled and said, "I've been thinking about you. I knew that I had to see you again." Angus pulled back the sheet that was covering Rod and gazed at his nine-inch, double wide cock, "Ahhhh. You are a monster, Rod. A magnificent monster." Angus knelt between Rod's legs. His lips and fingers traced every detail of his cock and balls. The sensation was thrilling. Rod was trembling. He did not like Angus, but he knew that he possessed extraordinary skills. He was a peerless fucker. A top with a special aptitude for older men.
Angus lay down full-weight on top of Rod. Soon they were lip to lip. His tongue filled Rod's mouth. Rod tried to pull back, but it was useless. Angus would have what he wanted and Rod would give it willingly. Trembling, Rod wrapped his arms and legs around Angus and began to moan. Angus abruptly said, "No... no. No sound... and, do not cum. I will guide you. Let me see your hole." Rod lifted his legs. Angus tongue-fucked Rod's asshole. He chuckled. Rod felt the head of Angus' red-hot eight-incher against his hole. It sunk in. It sunk in deeper. Rod closed his eyes. He wanted to moan with pleasure, but dared not. Angus thrust all the way in. He was exploring with his cock, every angle - every curve of Rod's gut. He began to moan. He began to pound Rod's ass. He fucked with abandon. He hissed as he nutted in Rod's ass. He was still for a moment... "Now...," was all that he uttered.
Rod felt Angus' thick fingers massaging, probing his asshole... he felt three fingers enter. Time stood still. Four fingers and a thumb expertly swirled, probed... Rod felt his hole dilate and welcome Angus' fist. Angus paused. He gently probed again, edging Rod. Rod began to feel the euphoria. He felt Angus reaching deeper into his ass. Rod's breath was even. He saw the edge of eternity. He felt that he was weightless, hovering in space above the bed -- Angus probed deeper. There was pain, but it quickly abated. Through the ether he heard Angus' voice snapping, "Shut up." Suddenly, he was completely detached. He felt an endless orgasm begin, but there was no ejaculation, just a continuing flood of unparalleled pleasure. He felt Angus begin to insert his other hand. His hands slipped back and forth, first one, then the other. Rod cautiously opened his eyes. Through the mist he saw Angus, his cock bloated to the diameter of a baseball bat. He folded his arms around the phantom Angus. He screamed, "Fuck me!" no longer concerned about the consequences. Angus' tongue again filled Rod's mouth, sliding down his throat. Angus' eyes were glowing with green fire. The baseball bat thick cock penetrated Rod's ass. Angus fucked hard. With each thrust the bull cock went deeper. He snorted. He roared as he began to cum. Rod felt scalding hot seed filling his gut. Then -- his own ejaculation began. He howled with pleasure. His cum load flooded the universe.
The contractions eased. He suddenly felt empty. He looked up. Angus was gone, but the sexual euphoria was not.
Rod lay on his back and stared at the ceiling. Now he understood. There were so many times that he'd pulled out of a man he'd just fucked and the man would beg him to fuck him again. Now he understood -- the emptiness. His ass felt empty. His belly was empty. He was in a sexual euphoria that he did not want to end. He needed more. He had to have more. He stared at the ceiling. His hands were on his chest, teasing his nipples. He ran his fingers through his chest hair. His hands continued, caressing down to his belly - running his fingers through his pubes. His fingers were reaching down, pressing down on his fat shaft, pressing the shaft between his thighs. He lifted his legs pressing the head of the monster against his asshole. He groaned as the head popped in. The shaft began to thicken. He pushed it deeper. It became harder, reaching a thick nine inches. Five thick inches up his ass... he rocked, he pushed, he moaned. He pushed and retracted - pushed and retracted. He felt his orgasm begin to swell. He began to shoot. It was the greatest of all sensations - the soothing warm flow inside. It was incredible release and satisfaction on an elevated level. He felt as if he were floating -- that amazing feeling of detachment. He was acutely aware that there was a special tenderness in self-loving. One day he would turn to self-loving exclusively, no longer needing the company of other men -- but, this was not the day -- this was not the night.
He stared at the ceiling. The emptiness would not abate. The hunger would not be sated. He remembered something. He carefully got up and opened the bottom bureau drawer. There, wrapped in tissue paper, he found it. A dildo. It was ten inches long. The girth was over eight inches. He licked the suction cup on the end and stuck it to the polished wood floor. He grabbed a pillow to kneel on. He spit slicked the dildo -- sucking it, licking it, chewing it. He knelt on the pillow and backed up to the rubber cock. The head entered his ass. He groaned and sat back on it. He screwed his ass on it. He pushed and screwed. He paused. Complete penetration. He began to post on it. He fucked with desperation, coming all of the way off, fucking all the way down. Faster, harder... He came with a roar. He fell forward off the dildo.
He stared at the floor. "Empty," was all that he could think... empty ass, empty belly. He spied a beer can. Can in hand, he got himself back on the bed. He slicked the beer can and pressed it to his hole. It slipped in. The rim of the can squeezing past his prostate was an exquisite sensation. He teased his prostate with the rim of the can. He was exuding a constant stream of cum and precum. He squeezed the can with his ass pushing it partially out. He suck it back in. Out, in -- out, in -- the pleasure was intense. Out, in -- no hands -- his ass muscles did the work. Adrenalin was coursing through his body. His fat cock was a column of stone erected flat against his body. Out, in -- out, in -- he began to drool. He sucked the can in. His eyes blurred. He braced for ejaculation. He squeezed, crushing the can. He screamed -- he came violently -- the beer can shot out of his ass like a bullet and smashed against the wall.
He sat up - then got up -- his single thought, "I've got to get a cock up my ass before I lose this high." The "Enchanted Forest," the neighborhood cruising grounds, was just behind his house. Barefoot and naked he ran to the trail that he knew led to the area called the "Parking Lot." His cock was at half-staff and hung massive, like an elephant's trunk. He sniffed the air. He smelled cum, and moved toward it. Several men were standing together at the edge of the open space - different ages, different builds, all four of them hung. One man was on his knees servicing the others. Rod was panting -- trying to keep calm. He swung his swollen cock like a piece of bait. The men nodded approval. The tallest and broadest of them motioned for Rod to join them. Rod felt hands -- touching, teasing. Rod braced his hands on a tree and presented his ass. The Brute, the best hung of the lot, moved in behind him. Rod felt his hairy arms enfold him. His breath smelled of cigarettes and whisky. The Brute pressed the head of his cock against Rod's asshole. It slipped in with a pop. Immediately, Rod felt a euphoric surge. The Brute massaged Rod's prostate with his thick cock. Rod swiveled his ass and pushed back. "Oh, man," the Brute moaned. He held Rod by the waist and fucked him deep. Rod groaned, "Fuck, fuck yeah, pound my ass, man." He did... and he was good. He pulled out. He picked Rod up as if he were his bride on their wedding night. He laid Rod down on his back on a picnic table. Rod raised his legs. The Brute mounted Rod. He fucked in, full penetration -- and pulled completely out. Each time he plowed in, he struck Rod's prostate. Rod was beginning the feeling of detachment when the Brute stopped. Rod looked to see what The Brute was doing. He had his hands in a can of Crisco.
Rod felt his fingers probing, searching his ass. "Man... you've got a prostate the size of Chicago. Damn..." The Brute began to manhandle the Big Gland, squeezing it, poking it. Rod reached a plateau. He groaned and begged The Brute to go deeper, to pound his prostate, to rape his supple asshole. The Brute obliged. Rod was elevated on testosterone and adrenaline. He felt no pain. "Deeper... deeper," he howled. He squinted his eyes open. The Brute was punch fucking him.
It's hard to describe what was happening to Rod -- in his mind, or in his body. Both had become instruments of pleasure. He was now in a total state of detachment... heightened reality...intense sexual euphoria. Gooning. He was a visionary - he was the vision.
The sound of the Brute's balls slapping against his ass was like thunder. He was rising to his climax. The harder The Brute fucked, the more intense the sensation. With his thick cock fully penetrated into Rod's ass, he slipped in four fingers. He began to cum. The force of his ejaculation shot The Brute back out of Rod's ass and into the darkness. Words could not adequately describe the height or depth of Rod's ecstasy. He began to slowly count -- 30 seconds of orgasm, one minute of orgasm, and more and more -- then shooting off ... 12. 13. 14 shots of cum.
When he opened his eyes he was hanging onto The Brute's arm and walking down the path to his house. He heard The Brute say, "You're almost home. buddy." Next, he saw the front door of his house. The Brute got Rod into his house, and into his bedroom. Rod heard The Brute say, "You're gonna need a couple days of recovery. Take it easy, my friend, tale it easy."
Rod lay on his back and stared at the ceiling. His room was a mess. The dildo was still standing in a perpetual erection. The crushed beer can had actually dented the wall. The sheets on his bed were damp with cum. Rod could smell the cum -- he could smell Angus. He was sated. He thought about his decades of topping men... "How many," he wondered? "8,000? 10,000?" And, he wondered how many of them he had catapulted into the kind of euphoria that he experienced.
The early dawn light cast shadows of trees on the drapes of his bedroom window. He saw the shadows as rustic heroes, hung and hard, coming to embrace him -- coming to make love to him.
If you'd like to comment on this story, you can contact me at a.nonnymoose8@gmail.com. I will read and respond to all comments
If you'd like to read more about Rod, check out these stories: https://www.nifty.org/nifty/gay/incest/the-boss https://www.nifty.org/nifty/gay/adult-friends/a-matter-of-size-and-color/