Gay Erotic Stories

Ryan Connolly woke dazed and confused, his muscles aching, his balls empty. As his eyes began to focus he realized he was laying prone inside the Xtreme Fighting Arena where he'd won his victory just the night before. At least, he THOUGHT it was the night before. He'd lost all track of time during his ordeal. His mind still woozy from the effects of the the drug he'd been slipped, he couldn't remember what was real and what wasn't. He still had on his tight spandex fighting trunks which barely contained a dick that was 8 inches and thick, even when soft. His ass was sore… like after a good martial arts workout. Had it all been a dream?

He sat up. The arena seemed to be deserted but the seats were pitch black. All that was lit was the interior of the cage. Suddenly he heard the clang of a door. Then another. Two sets of bare-footed footsteps slapped against the floor as they made their way to the stage. Ryan squinted to make out who they were, but wasn't able to focus until the intruders entered the ring one at a time.

On the right side of the ring stood Tony Sanchez, a latino Xtreme fighter he had once defeated. Tony's dark curly close-cropped hair glistened in the arena lighting. Dark brows, straight Roman nose -- perfect except for a slight scar from where it had been broken and reset -- a square chin, and curling lips that pouted arrogantly. Tony said nothing. Just stood there all of 6' 5", looking at Ryan defeated, weak and crouching on the padded floor. His breathing was deep and controlled, each breath making the square peeks rise and fall, nipples soft pink and full as gumdrops. His eight-pack abs taut with each intake of air. Jeesus, Ryan thought, why am I even looking at him … like that.

On the other side of the ring stood Paul Polaski, a strapping blond farmboy with upturned nose and a smattering of freckles that cross-hatched the bridge of his nose and his broad shoulders. Like Sanchez, Polaski had fallen loser to Connolly in the arena, and was smugly smiling at Ryan's weak position now.

"You get a note too, Polaski?" Sanchez barked across the ring.

"Yeah, told me to be here at 9 if I wanted to get a little revenge."

"Guess Connolly here pissed off one too many people. I wouldn't mind getting a little practice in," Sanchez called back, punching his fist into his palm.

Suddenly a voice boomed out of the darkness through the arena's loudspeaker:

"Oh no, Mr. Sanchez … we intend a different kind of revenge."

With that the arena's overhead board lit up with a video image. A snarling, arrogant Ryan Connolly was being interviewed. "That faggot Sanchez, he was easy to bring down. He spends so much time on his knees, he was practically BEGGING to be pinned." This was quickly followed by another clip. "Polaski? When I had him in that final hold, he was practically begging to be my bitch. I may have to take him shoe shopping after the showers!" he laughed.

Both fighters bristled.

The voice interrupted: "I thought you gentleman might be interested in seeing some of Ryan's new workout techniques."

The screen suddenly shifted to images of Ryan, strapped spread-eagle being force-milked; sucked; fucked by the mechanical cock; and then fucked by no fewer than a dozen men who splattered their cum across his ass, back, chest and pretty face.

"Now that Ryan has been taught some respect by strangers, I thought it might be time for some of his colleagues to help Ryan exercise some newfound discipline."

Each of the fighters had been adjusting their shorts during the video display… their cocks lengthening and thickening at the sight of Ryan taking load after load of cum… like some cheap porn slut. Neither fighter had ever fucked a man before, but Ryan wasn't a man… he was going to be a little bitch-boy.

Each man stepped forward, crossing to Ryan, still prone on his knees.

"Kiss my dick through my trunks, bitch" Sanchez said, his voice already gruff with sex-need.

"Fuck off Sanchez," Ryan managed to stutter.

A beefy hand backhanded across his face leaving a stinging red hand-print.

"Kiss my dick through my trunks, bitch" Sanchez repeated.

Connolly looked up into the latino fighter's dark eyes and spit in his face.

Sanchez sent a bare foot kicking into Ryan's midsection, knocking the wind out of him. "Grab his arms" Sanchez ordered Polaski. The blond farmboy knelt behind Ryan and took his arms in a vice-like grip, his freckled chest pressing into Connolly's back.

With an evil smile, Sanchez peeled his trunks down to mid thigh, releasing an 8 inch length of uncut cock.even semi-hard, the skin still clung to the head, revealing just a hint of the moist rosy knob below. He stepped closer, his cock almost laying against the tethered fighter's lips.

"Kiss it, Connolly. And if you even think of biting it, I will hick your teeth down your throat."

Polaski pushed Ryan forward, forcing his lips against the hit slab of cock.

"Mmmmm", Sanchez moaned, "that's a good girl. Part those lips baby. Take it in your mouth."

Ryan opened his mouth to protest and that was all the impetus Sanchez needed to shift his hips forward, just an inch, just enough to slip his knob inside that hot sweet mouth.

Hot salty precum dripped onto Rayn's tongue, and instinctively he went to lick it up. His tongue ran in a slow circle round the latino fighter's cock knob.

"Fuck yes…" Sanchez moaned, "suck that dick." Ryan began to slurp wetly.

The latino knotted his fingers thru Ryan's hair, holding the prone, dazed and drugged fighter in his steely grip. Each cock thrust, drove his dick deeper. When he breeched the constricting throat and heard him CHOKE on his pinga for the first time, he sighed deeply, "Mmmm, maricon."

Out of control, he held the gagging Ryan Connolly on his fat dick as he began skull-fucking him. "You're my personal cock-sucker now, Connolly. Once you taste this cock-milk, you'll never go back to pussy", he said with a sneering laugh.

Ryan panicked. This mother-fucker is going to make me drink his cum.

"So close…"

He tried to pull off, but Sanchez' grip was irresistible… "Keep sucking…"

Sanchez's fucking was relentless. With his eyes closed, this was Maria's mouth, not Connolly's, and he was mouthfucking her like a a total slut, the way he NEVER could for real.

"Got a big load for you…"

Connolly tried to pull away, but Polaski held him firm. He was making sure Ryan wasn't going anywhere. Connolly only succeeded in pulling free of Sanchez' dick for a moment, but it was just as the first BLAST of thick cream SPLATTERED across his face. It painted his cheeks and lips. Then Sanchez stuffed his dick back between his lips and DUMPED another load across his tongue.

The mouthful of cum made the perfect lube for Tony Sanchez to STUFF his dick throat-deep. Ryan Connolly GAGGED has the big dick filled his gullet, spitting two or three more creamblasts. Sanchez' tan, muscled thighs framed Connoly's face, his balls slapping against Ryan's chin.

"Take it ALL bitch", Sanchez sighed, giving Connolly one last hose-blast of cum directly down his throat. Then he pulled his big dick out of Ryan's mouth. It glistened with spit and cum. Ryan coughed and sputtered. "Lick it clean", Sanchez commanded, and Polaski pushed the bent form of Ryan Connolly forward to tongue-wash the Tony Sanchez' cock. When it was clean, Sanchez said, "Your turn, Polaski".

"Help me drag him over to the cage wall," Paul Polaski called out.

Earlier Polaski had noticed two leather cuff-straps at waist height attached to the cage wall. Whoever had sent the invitations to Sanchez and Polaski had thought of everything. They strapped the barely resisting Connolly into the restraints. Paul Polaski stepped back, hooked his thumbs into his shorts, and dropped them.

Ryan gasped at the sight of the strapping blond farmboy and his ten inch dick. Suddenly he knew why he needed to be restrained. He fought at the wrist cuffs, but they held him secure.

"Yeah," Paul said with an impish laugh which forced a dimple. "No chick has ever been able to take this dick down her throat. You're gonna be the first … even if i have to choke u to death on it"

He slapped the fat tube of cock against his palm. Sanchez went to the prone figure of Ryan Connolly and grabbed his chin, forcing it open. Then he pinched the fighters nose closed to guarantee that this mouth wasn't going to close on its own.

Paul Polaski stepped forward, bringing a fist-sized cock-knob to Ryan's lips. Ryan's eyes went wide with terror. He tried to shake his head "no" but Sanchex held his head pinned against the cage.

Polaski, stuffed his knob into Ryan's mouth and heard the man moan in defeat.

"Lots of spit," Polaski advised, "or you're gonna have a tough time".

Grabbing the cage for leverage, Polaski fed the prone Ryan Connolly his dick one inch at a time.

"One…Two…Three"… Sanchez was counting off the inches as they filled Connolly's mouth… "Five… Six…"

Connolly's jaws ACHED as the huge fuckpole made it's slow descent. At seven inches, Polaski's cock met the opening of Paul's throat. This was usually the limit, but he was determined to throat-fuck Ryan into total submission.

With his head pinned to the metal cage and gripped in the hold of Tony Sanchez, Ryan Connolly had no choice but to surrender his throat to Paul Polaski's ten inch dick.

With a determined sneer, Paul forced his cock deeper…deeper… Paul felt Ryan's throat MILKING his dick, his nose buried in a bush of pubes that was blond as straw. Each brutal thrust sent Ryan's head SMASHING into the metal cage, but he didn't care. Paul never felt anything like this and he didn't stop till cum was dripping from the corner's of Ryan Connolly's slutty mouth.

"Excellent job, gentlemen" the voice on the loudspeaker said, "Why don't you get some water, before you fuck his ass."

Slumped in a corner, throat raw from cocksucking, Ryan was too hoarse to beg for this to stop. Instead, he frantically pulled at the restraints, his taut slim body glistening with perspiration as the two fighters went to their corners. It was only as Paul Polaski and Tony Sanchez got to their stools, water bottles to their mouths, that Ryan noticed the pile of condoms, rags, lube and toys beside each chair. It was then that he also noticed the four cameras strategically placed around the arena, red lights blinking, recording every agonizing moment of Ryan Connolly's humiliation.