It must have been near three or four in the morning. For sure there would be no one else using the steam room. All the normal folks were in bed. Safe and sound in their hotel rooms.

Not me though.

And not this teenage faggot.

I remained on the floor, kneeling, hands on the boy’s ass. I was unable to remove my hands, unable to stand, therefore unable to leave. My head and cock pounded. The faggot began to rub his thick bell across my face. My brain was now disconnected and no longer in charge. I opened my mouth and followed the slow swirls his bell was making. He stopped and I was able to take him.

The crime had already been committed I figured, so I might as well just…just what?

I knew what he wanted, just as I knew what was expected of my submissive role. I sucked him as deep as I could, grasping his ass tight, nudging him to the back of my throat.

“That’s a good girl,” the faggot said, loud and clear.

I winced, my god, how humiliating should someone else stumble into the steam room.

I felt his grip tighten on my head, and then to my shock, he popped his bell past my gag reflex.
Fuck sakes! The son of a bitch!

I went right to vomit mode, heaving mightily against him. I tasted hot beer and bile. He pulled out, then shoved right back in. Again I vomited against his cock head, nearly suffocating. I began to panic, and mercifully, the faggot pulled completely out.

I convulsed again, spitting a stench of liquid onto my thighs. Tears ran from my eyes and my body poured sweat. And through all this, my cock remained ram rod stiff, ready to blow.

Holy fuck. This bastard had just penetrated my throat with his cock, and my response was a burning desire to orgasm. How sick. How fucked up. How pathetic.

Was I actually getting off on this?

The answer was my stiff cock, and me still on my knees. Doing nothing to change the situation. Therefore, getting some strange voyeuristic thrill and pleasure from what was happening.

Was the pleasure coming from the actual sex act?

Or the challenge of taking this faggot’s meat?

Was it no big deal sucking a man’s cock?

It happened a billion times a day, so who fucking cared?

What about the weakness and submission?

I couldn’t be in a worse position, and my brain was finding this wildly erotic. And sick.
Something had started, and I was damn well going to finish it. After all, this was the biggest cock I had ever seen in my life, and I had it, if only for a second, in my throat.

The chemical overwhelmed me again, the faggot seemed to know exactly when to dose me. I had not finished coming down off the last rush when the new one started. The double dose collapsed me right into myself. I stared at his glistening nine inch monster. God, this guy was lucky. Blessed. His cock was fucking gorgeous. A real man’s cock.

My mind bent even further.

This was an honor. An honor to worship this faggot. No, I had to stop calling him a faggot. Because then I would be one.

And then it happened.

The worst possible outcome of this night.

The steam room door opened.

I felt the cool draft of air. I nearly went into shock. Because I had been caught. Holy fuck.

Somebody was walking towards us. Somebody in a white towel. Somebody now naked. I could barely see, but it was another one of these scrawny teenage faggots.

God sakes, what do I do?

The new guy stopped, buck naked, cock out, right beside us.

“I’m next,” he announced.

I was mortified. Next? This faggot thinks I am going to blow him as well?

The chemical was crushing me. I was falling. Fuck it. The idea of a watcher stirred me, deep in my balls. I felt my cock tingle from my asshole to my dripping knob.

Fuck you, bitch, I thought. You want to watch? Go ahead.

I opened wide and took in the nine inch cock. Held the ass tight, and forced my gullet over the giant bell. The double dose of chemical helped. It seemed to open me up even more. Tears welled in my eyes as the bile rose. I sucked air through my nose and forced myself to keep the fag’s cock in. I heaved mightily, but strong hands held my head steady. The bell pulled out, and before I could throw up or breathe, it shoved back in. Out, in. Out, in.

Horrific sounds filled the steam room. Guttural, animal survival sounds.

The faggot was driving my gullet with a powerful rhythm. My eyes rolled back in my head as black spots filled my vision. I was being choked out by cock. I imagined dying right here on the filthy tile floor, but my own sick pleasure was so overwhelming, I didn’t care.

My entire being consisted of my sucking gullet, and my straining cock. Nothing else mattered. The faggot punished my throat, slamming deeper and deeper into me. Finally he stopped. My nose was buried in his pubic hair.

Which meant…I couldn’t believe it!

His entire nine inches of thick, juicy meat was buried in my throat. And I was still alive.

had deep-throated a nine inch cock! Me. The pussy slayer.

My brain swam in and out of the chemical fog. My cock pounded against my belly. I sensed it was leaking all over the fucking place.

The faggot pulled completely out of me. It felt like a giant sword had been removed from my lungs. The fresh air filled in. My chest heaved. My nipples were concrete. Beer and whiskey and creamy shooters and stomach bile fell from my mouth. Tears mixed with perspiration, and dripped from my face. I felt strange. Humiliated, but proud. Exposed, but horny. Dirty, but exhilarated. Ashamed and embarrassed, but accomplished.

How many people could do what I had just done?

And like I said, it was once, and once only. There would never be a repeat of this.

I tried to catch my breath. The chemicals continued crashing me from side to side. This rush was going to last another hour, I figured. The rush of pleasure, and submission, and experimentation, and ‘going with the flow’, no matter where it went.

The two teens were now standing right beside each other. Both facing me. Both naked with cocks out. Large cocks.
.
This could only mean……….

[To be continued……]