Gay Erotic Stories

It was late at night. Rain poured down from above and splattered across the close-knit rooftops, channelled into gutters with a loud gushing sound, and rushed down broken drainpipes to flow out onto the pavement as I walked through the streets, holding the collar of my business suit tight against my neck. Even this small gesture was not enough to fight against the will of Mother Nature, and I could already feel the dampness of the rain soaking into my shirt collar and trickling down my back.

Lights form the few passing vehicles occasionally illuminated my path as I rushed home. Normally the weather wouldn’t have bothered me as I would have been driving, but the asshole biker who’d skidded in front of me the day before had left his impression on the hood of my car, and it had been taken in for service. The weather report had said today would be a fine day. I looked up at the sky and regretted paying attention to what the TV weatherman had said as I approached my building and made for the underground car park and the elevator that would send me to my warm apartment and fresh clothing.

The car park was dry and I was glad of the respite from the rain outside. My shoes were damp and I felt the water that had soaked into my socks. I would be lucky to escape without catching a cold, I thought to myself as I glanced across the car park to my parking spot, hoping to see my own car there, delivered by the mechanic. No such luck. In fact, some asshole had parked their bike in my spot!

“Of all the . . . “ I muttered as I approached, resolving to make a note of the license plate number and speak to the building manager about someone using my own parking space – bought and paid for – for themselves. I looked at the bike. I don’t know anything about bikes, but I saw it was big, and black; undoubtedly a powerful machine, driven by a big man--probably some fat, old, beer swilling hell’s angel.

I didn’t get a chance to curse. One arm was around my waist before I could think, roughly pulling me backwards. I gasped and was about to shout but a hand was over my mouth an instant later. A noxious smell invaded my nostrils and my body convulsed against the fumes as the leather gloved hand pressed tight against my mouth, the thumb pressing hard against my nose. I remember feeling a hard leather-covered body pressing into me as I fought against the fumes in my nose and mouth, and the strong grip on my body before my head started to spin. Limbs became heavier and heavier as I struggled, and although I felt as though I was fighting back, I was also aware that I was barely moving. My vision blurred and a ringing in my ears got louder and louder. An alarm maybe? Someone’s seen what’s going on and set off the fire alarm perhaps. I wouldn’t know. I blacked out.

I began to stir. The first thing I was aware of was that I was on my back, laid on something padded. My bed perhaps? No, this was too firm, and the material underneath me felt smooth and leathery. I tried to rise, but felt something holding me back. My eyes opened and everything was dark. What little I could make out was blurred. My other senses were trying to compensate, and although I was still groggy, I could make out other sensations.

I was laid on my back on some kind of narrow bench. My arms were outstretched, and I felt something around my wrists that prevented me from moving my arms. I pulled and as I did so, heard the stretching sound of rope. And it wasn’t just my arms. I felt similar restraints on my ankles. My legs were pulled slightly apart, and I could barely move them, as I seemed to be strapped to the bench. I was still dressed in my suit, as I could feel the dampness of the rain that had soaked into my shirt. It was warm but moist, and I knew I must have been laid here for a while, since the water had warmed against my body. I raised my aching head and tried to focus. There was a figure standing at the end of the bench near where my legs were tied. I could barely make it out, since it seemed to be black against the darkness. As my eyes began to focus, and become accustomed to the poor lighting I made out more.

It was a tall figure. High boots covered his legs to just below his knees, and up to the waist he was wearing a pair of leather chaps wrapped tight around a faded pair of jeans. Covering his torso was a black leather biker jacket, with a thick zip holding it closed around his body. Black leather gloves covered his hands, one of which was holding a thick cigar, which smoldered and send wisps of blue-grey smoke up his arm. His head was covered with some kind of mask – a ski mask I thought, except the material was also leather. The figure raised the cigar to his mouth and took a long deep draw on it, inhaling the smoke. I watched as smoke started to drift from his nostrils, in a slow steady stream which turned into thick jets as the rest of the smoke followed.

I pulled at the restraints on my wrists and looked over to see what was holding me down. Leather cuffs wrapped around my wrists and were shackled to some kind of metal frame on either side. I figured I was bound to some kind of exercise machine, the kind people use in a gym to bench-press and lift weights. I pulled again harder, and this time I heard a metallic sound, as if I had caused this machine to rock slightly. I looked up as I saw movement. The figure was approaching, and moments later he was stood by the side of me, looking down as I struggled against the shackles on my wrists.

“Let me g . . .” the words were barely out of my mouth before his gloved hand was over my mouth again. It was a firm grip, and almost covered my nose too. I had to breathe through my nostrils for air, and I shook a little as panic set in. Was this the asshole who had dented my car the day before? My mind flashed back to the bike in my parking space. Yes, it seemed familiar now.

No time to think. The man was reaching for something behind me. I caught a glimpse of something black and leather. His hand lifted from my mouth and I opened it to shout, but in one swift movement his other hand came forward, and I felt something slide between my lips and teeth. It felt like it was made from leather, and the taste was familiar. Some kind of plug was filling my mouth. The figure roughly pulled my head upwards, and a leather strap on each side hooked around my ears, and snap shut behind my head. He pushed my head back as I tried to cry out, achieving nothing but a muffled sound. He seemed to nod in satisfaction, and then raised a leg. He straddled me, one leg on either side of my torso, and sat down on my abdomen, making it difficult to breathe. He seemed just to stare into my eyes, looking at the panic that was building in there.

I wanted to say “Okay, man. If you want to scare me you’ve done it. I’m scared. I’m FUCKING scared! Joke’s over man. Just let me go.” But I couldn’t say anything. He just looked into my eyes. Then his arms moved. I felt his hands on my chest and I looked down. His gloved hands were working on the buttons of my shirt, unfastening them one by one. his eyes watched what he was doing and occasionally glanced back at my face. What the hell was he doing? I looked down again as he opened the last button and pulled the two sides of my shirt open, exposing my naked chest. He let his hands drop to his side as he looked at the dark fur on my chest, and I looked down too. And ten I saw the bulge in his leather pants, in his groin.

“Oh fuck no, please! NO!” I tried to say. You hear about this kind of thing happening. You read about it in the papers. And you think this kind of shit will never happen to you, but now here I was, being slowly undressed by a masked leather bike. Probably the biker with a grudge against me.

He was still looking into my eyes as his gloved hands came up again. They felt against my sides, caressing me, slowly moving up my body to my chest. As he reached my upper torso, his thumbs reached out and started to circle my nipples.

“Please, no please!” I muffled into the gag, and tried to struggle. My arms wouldn’t move, my legs were immobile. He just held me there as his thumbs worked. His hands shifted and he took hold of my nipples between thumb and forefinger and started to twist them. My body writhed underneath him, although he didn’t twist hard. And then I felt the most degrading sensation. I was ashamed of myself now. I felt my own dick start to swell at the treatment this biker was giving me. I tried to resist, but my boxer shorts were loose, and my suit pants weren’t tight fitting. I felt my flaccid dick start to swell and move down my leg. God, please don’t let it come up higher, I prayed as he pinched at my tits. His ass was right in the spot where my dick tends to rest when I get hard. Please don’t let it go there, I thought, but I felt it making a circle in my underwear. And soon it was pushing up from my groin and pressing into the back of the biker’s jacket.

‘Oh god, please don’t let him feel it . . .’ The thought had barely formed in my head when he leaned back and I felt his weight pressing against my hard dick. His eyes locked onto mine and I saw his mouth curl into a smile. He reached down out of my field of vision, and his hand returned with the cigar he’d been smoking. He put it in his mouth and then returned to working on my nipples. He held the cigar between his teeth and breathed the smoke down onto my chest. It drifted into my face and I could smell and taste the smoke. Oh god, this biker was turning me on.

He stopped what he was doing and took the cigar from his mouth. He was looking at me and seemed to be pondering something. Then he leaned close and spoke for the first time.

“I’m gonna take the gag off you.” He said simply. “Make any noise and you’re fucked.” He reached into his pocket and took out a knife, toying with the tip of the blade with his gloved finger. At least the fear eased the pressure in my groin. My cock when down like a lead balloon as I saw the knife and heard the threat.

“Understand?” he asked. I just nodded, sweat pouring from my forehead and dripping into my eyes. He reached up and first of all wiped the sweat from my forehead with his gloved hand. He brought the palm of the glove to his face and licked at the sweat. “Mmmmmm,” he moaned, before reaching behind my head. I felt the fastener pop open and one hand took hold of the gag.

“Not a fucking sound,” he repeated, before pulling the gag out of my mouth. I remained tight-lipped, looking first at him, and then at the knife. I was sensible enough not to provoke him; survival instinct maybe.

The biker put the stogie back in his mouth and smiled. “There,” he said. “That wasn’t hard, was it?” he said, and took another deep inhale, blowing the smoke back over my chest. “Now let’s get your cock hard again.”

“Please don’t hurt me, man,” I moaned as his fingers started playing with my nipples again. The biker just laughed, sending thick smoke into my face. My dick started to stir a little in my pants, but it wasn’t rising thick like it had before. He seemed to realise this, stood up and brought his leg back over, lowering himself to kneel beside me. His gloved hands worked at the zipper of my pants, and he roughly brought the trousers down to my ankles.

“Fucking boxers,” he muttered as he pushed a couple of fingers of each hand into the small fly-hole and pulled hard, ripping them apart in one swift motion. I flinched and clenched my eyes, terrified at what he’d just done. Then I felt his hand on my chest again and I opened my eyes. His masked face was close to mine and one arm was reaching over my body, working my left nipple. Then I felt his other hand cupping my balls and gently squeezing them. I whimpered again and he just smiled and continued to smoke in my face as he worked my tits and balls. My cock started to rise again, and he would occasionally look down at my swollen dick. I felt it start to move over my leg again, swelling and coming to rest at my abdomen.

“Aww fuck yeah!” the biker groaned as he watched. I looked down to see what had caught his interest and saw the glistening trail of pre-cum my cock had left on my thighs. The biker’s right hand wiped at the sticky fluid, and he rubbed it between thumb and finger. “No need for gob, then,” he muttered to himself as his gloved hand wrapped around my cock and pulled the foreskin back. It slid back easily, sending a large glob of pre-cum down the shaft. He loosened his grip and tightened it again, this time around the skinned-back knob. I hissed. I’m real sensitive beneath my foreskin, and he seemed to pick up on that. His moist gloved fist started to stroke the whole length of my shaft, and I shifted uneasily on the bench. Each pull on my cock brought out more pre-cum, and he seemed fascinated by it. Once in a while he would pull the skin back tight, and then let his thumb rub against the raw head of my cock, making me flinch. He chuckled to himself and did it more frequently, making me gasp for breath. I knew I couldn’t hold out much longer. This fucking biker was getting me off. What kind of pleasure was he getting out of this, pulling at my tits and stroking my cock? Maybe I shouldn’t ask.

His hand was stroking faster now, his fist pounding down against my balls with each stroke, and I couldn’t hold back. I grunted as my ass tightened, and I felt my balls start to rise. He must have seen it too. His fist got tight around my cock and he pulled down hard, pressing his fist against my balls and holding my shaft tight. The first shot of cum must have gone two feet in the air. I moaned loud, and prayed he wouldn’t think I was shouting for help. His hand pulled up my shaft and pulled down again sharply as another jet of cum flew from my piss slit.

“AWW FUCK!” I moaned as his hand started stroking hard. Another shot spewed out over his glove, and another, and another. He didn’t stop stroking or pulling on my nipples. My cock felt like it was on fire as his gloved hand stroked hard and fast. More and more cum oozed out over his gloved fist and I moaned and whimpered, tears streaming down my face. His stroking slowed down, and I breathed heavily, sighing. Ok, I confess it. I’m the kind of guy who can jack off four or five times a day, but I’d NEVER shot a load like that before.

After a minute or two he released my cock from his grip, and just let his fingers tickle my tits a moment longer before he stood up. My cock was going soft now, but my body was plastered in my cum. The bulge in his leather pants was huge. Had he shot his load in there? I had no idea. He turned from me for a moment then turned back holding a glass of water.

“Thirsty?” he asked. I nodded. He knelt down again and put the glass beside me. Then he reached into a pocket and pulled something out. It was tiny, and I didn’t get a good look at it until he brought it towards my face between thumb and finger. A small blue square tablet.

One hand grabbed my nose and the other pushed the tablet into my mouth, his fingers pushing it further back into my throat so I almost choked. He released my nose and pulled the glass towards me,. I tried to cough the tablet out of my throat but it was stuck. He tipped water into my mouth slowly and as I took it in I tried to cough again. But my throat convulsed and before I knew it, the tablet was going down my gullet and into my stomach.

“Good boy,” the biker said. “Soon see the results of that,” and with that he stood up and stepped out of my range of vision. I’d kind of hoped this biker would get his pleasure and then dump me somewhere. Maybe give me a kicking or something, but there was no sign of release. I laid there, sore and aching, for some time, waiting to see if he would return. Breathing heavily, I felt the chill on my body as the cum on my chest and abdomen cooled with the air. I shivered a little and felt my heavy dick move. Lifting my head, I looked down at it. It seemed to be growing again. The pill…Viagra!

It was still sore, but my cock was swelling fast. Oh god, was he gonna do it again? Most of me hoped not. But a small part of me hoped he would. My cock was so hard now, it was standing out from my body, dripping a little pre-cum onto my abdomen. It was so hard, it hurt. I clenched my eyes closed and tried to focus on something else. But I had no time to think before I heard booted footsteps approach. I opened my eyes to see the biker standing above me. His leather pants had gone. In their place was a leather jockstrap. He still wore the leather jacket, but it was open now. I could see a smooth chest, well built obviously from exercise, possibly on the machine I was shackled to. He still wore the gloves and mask, and in his hand he had two cigars. He was grinning as he looked at my stiff and dripping cock.

“Now that’s a fucking money shot,” he grinned as he put one stogie in his jaw and lit it. Then, straddling me, he drew in the smoke and sat back down on my abdomen. His ass trapped the head of my cock between his buttocks and my body and I winced at the feel of it. My foreskin was pulled right back, I was so hard, and the head was so sensitive. With smoke pouring from his mouth he took the cigar from his jaw and reached down with it, planting it between my teeth.

“You smoke?” he asked. I shook my head. “You do now.” He said. I wrapped my lips around the cigar and took a tentative draw on the smoke. It didn’t taste too bad, and I opened my lips a little to let the smoke out.

“Next one, inhale it.” He growled. I wasn’t sure how. I closed my lips around the cigar again and tried to take a draw. He could see I was struggling and the smoke started to escape from my lips. Suddenly I felt his hand close around the head of my cock. I breathed in hard, taking the smoke and almost choked. My face went read as I struggled not to let go of the cigar in my jaw. I held the smoke there and breathed out, trying to remain in control. It escaped through my nose. My head began to spin a little as the heavy smoke took effect. His hand relaxed from my cock and he patted my chest encouragingly. I took another draw on the cigar, closing my eyes as I inhaled the smoke. I felt movement on my body and opened my eyes again. The smoke was coming out of my nose and I could barely see through the cloud I was making. I felt something damp on the end of my cock and as the smoke cleared, I saw the biker straddling me, he head of my cock positioned at the entrance to his ass.

“Oh fuck,” I tried to say, with the cigar in my jaw.

“Go on, fucker. Smoke it.” He said. I drew on the cigar again, and as the smoke entered my lungs, I felt the pressure at the end of my cock as he pushed down.

“Mppppphhhh” I groaned, sending smoke down over my chest as the biker lowered himself. The pressure built as he got lower until I felt a sudden release and my cock slipped past his sphincter and into his hole.

“Awwwwww FUCK!” the biker moaned as my cock bore into him. He lowered himself until his ass cheeks were pressing down on my balls. My cock was buried deep inside his ass. He lit the other cigar and started to smoke it, gently rocking up and down on my shaft, and sending the smoke into my face.

“SMOKE!” he shouted, as his gloved hands took hold of my tits again and pulled at them. I moaned and tried not to think of the pressure on my tits, and the slow friction on my cock, deep inside his asshole. I sucked on the cigar and breathed the smoke in again. My head became light once more as he rocked up and down, pulling on my tits as he rode my drug-enhanced erection.

“Fuck yeah,” he moaned as he lifted himself up until only the head of my cock was inside him. Then he pushed down hard, sending the shaft back inside deep. I kept smoking the cigar, hoping that by obeying his orders, he’d just ride me till I shoot, then let me go. He flicked the ash away from the end of my cigar and replaced it in my jaw, making me smoke hard as he forced me to fuck his hole. His movements were harder and faster now, and I felt the pressure building in my balls. My cigar was almost spent, and he saw this. He took the butt form my mouth and leaned down. The leather he was wearing was warm against my skin as he got lower. My cock was back in the position it usually held when I stroke myself, that comfortable position I like when I get a good long stroke going and I know I’m gonna shoot over my chest. But this time there was no hand working my cock; it was this horny biker’s tight asshole riding it.

His knees gripped my body as he lowered his face towards mine, still bucking up and down on my swollen cock. I was sweating again and knew I couldn’t last much longer. I wanted to tell him I was close to cumming. He wouldn’t want my load up his ass, surely. His cigar was still in his jaw, and I felt the heat on my face. Would he burn me? Deep down I knew he wouldn’t. And when his hand came up to take the stogie away I was relieved. He’d taken a really long draw on it and I thought he was going to blow it right into my eyes. I closed them, hoping it wouldn’t matter. He was moaning enough anyway. Maybe it would be enough pleasure to have my cock in his hole. Fuck, I knew it felt great for me. Yeah, I was ashamed. I was being raped by this leather clad fucker, but the shame was in how much I was enjoying it.

And then I felt his lips against mine. I gasped, and my mouth opened. His tongue was in my mouth instantly, followed by thick smoke! He was feeding me his smoke. His hand on the back of my head pulling me close. My mind blew! This was too intense! And I had no chance to say anything as my cock shuddered and launched my cum deep inside his ass. He rocked back and forth, still feeding me his smoke and kissing me as my cock pulsed time and time again, sending my seed deep into his biker ass. Would he punch me for cumming in him? Would he knife me? Surely he could feel my cock throbbing inside. I felt a trickle on the shaft. I had cum so hard it was leaking out. A soft breeze in the room chilled my balls where the cum was dripping down. And still he rocked back and forth, milking my cock for all it was worth. I’d shot but I was still hard. The Viagra was working all too well. His lips left mine and I looked into his face, worried. But he was just smiling. He replaced the cigar into his grinning jaw and leaned back, giving my nipples a playful tweak, and laughing as my whole body convulsed, I was so sensitive. Then he slowly rose up, and my stiff cock slipped out of his hole. A trickle of cum dripped out and onto my shaft as he stood there, pushing my cum back out of his hole, still smoking the cigar. The bulge in his jock was still huge. Had he cum in there? I always thought the whole objective of sex was to shoot your load. But then, maybe some guys do it while being fucked. The jock was leather so I wouldn’t see his cum anyway.

He stepped away from me again and went to the foot of the machine I was strapped to. Kneeling down I felt him work on the shackles at my ankles. They were soon free. He was letting me go. I breathed a sigh of relief. I still had my clothes and, well, maybe I’d have to walk home with a drug-induced hard-on, but at least the ordeal was over. Wasn’t it?

He was pulling at the legs of my pants, pulling them off. OH GOD! He’d jacked me off. He’d ridden my cock. Now there was one thing left. And he didn’t need my pants off if he wanted to fuck my mouth.

“Oh no, man, please! PLEASE!” I begged. “Don’t fuck me. I’ll give you my money. My credit cards. I’ll give you my fucking car! Please, don’t fuck me!”

He looked at me again and paused. My pants were on the floor now. I was naked from the waist downwards. He still had the cigar in his mouth. From what I could see from the shape of his face, his lips, and his piercing eyes, he must have been a damn good-looking guy. And his body was ripped. If I hadn’t had a hard-on, I would probably have been getting one just looking at him. And he had a look in his eyes as if seriously considering what I’d pleaded. He stepped away from the foot of the machine and knelt down next to me, one hand on my chest. The other turned my head to face him and he took the cigar from my mouth.

“Have I hurt you yet, fucker?” he asked. I paused considering his words.

“No,” I murmured, a little worried about his use of the word ‘yet’.

“Right. Well don’t think about what I’ve done so far. Just think about how it felt, in here,” he tapped my forehead. “Tell me the truth. You loved every fucking second of it, didn’t you?”

Again, I paused and thought back to the feeling of his gloved hand on my cock. The way I’d shot my load the first time. And the warm, sliding friction of his asshole on my cock as he’d ridden me.

“Tell me, fucker,” he growled. “How did it feel?”

“It felt . . . good.” I whispered.

He stood up again and returned to his place at the foot of the machine. His hands grasped my ankles and lifted them upwards, exposing my ass to the air. My cum had dripped between my legs and was already starting to pool around my hole as he shuffled closer. He groped at his groin, and then paused. An after thought maybe? He stood up, parting my legs so that I got a clear shot of his leather jock. His gloved hands pulled at the strap and brought it down. His cock emerged right in front of me--at least ten hard inches of solid meat, uncut and drooling. He hadn’t shot his load from the looks of things. Large heavy balls dropped into view at the base of his shaft. He squatted down again and I felt the moist head of his cock probing at my hole.

I couldn’t take it. I was scared. I was terrified. I was about to get full-on fucked – RAPED! I started to cry. This didn’t seem to stop the biker. He leaned forward, his leather-clad body over me like some menacing figure. His cock pushing more firmly at my asshole.

“Loosen up, fucker.” He growled.

“I can’t,” I sobbed. It was true. My body was so tense I couldn’t have opened my asshole even if I’d wanted to.

The biker reached into a pocket and pulled out a rag. He pushed this over my face and pulled out a small brown bottle. Dropping a few drops of the liquid onto the rag, he put the bottle down and pressed the cloth into my face as he pushed harder.

“Loosen up fucker, or my cock’s gonna rip you apart!”

The fumes were taking effect. Not as harsh as the first time he’d grabbed me in the car park. A lesser amount maybe? Nevertheless, it was affecting my head. My mind was buzzing. It was difficult to focus.

“Make like you’re having a shit,” a voice said. I wasn’t sure where I was. I pushed down as though trying to dump. And then I felt a sudden sensation. A feeling of something warm, and wet, and THICK suddenly pass into me. I moaned. The rag was pulled away as more and more of the feeling filled me. My head was clearing quickly. I opened my eyes. The biker’s face was right above me, eyes closed, and another cigar in his mouth. And I realised his cock had passed my sphincter and was deep inside me. How deep? His cock was huge! I could still feel it sliding in. I moaned as the pressure was getting intense. A sudden jolt brought me to my senses fully. My ass tightened and then relaxed again, and he smiled as he looked down at me.

“That’d be your prostate, fucker.” He said.

“Huh?” I groaned incoherently. I felt him pull back a little and then jab his cock in again. It felt like an electric shock inside me. “ArghhH!” I groaned. It hurt, but in a way I’d not experienced before. My still-hard cock, already sore from having shot two loads, was drooling again. More pre-cum. How could he do this to me? Rape me, fuck me, humiliate me, and yet make me feel so GOOD?

His cock was sliding in again. The pressure on my prostate was almost unbearable as the head of his dick rubbed against it. And then I felt his balls against my ass.

“You got a good ass, fucker,” he said.

“Huh?” I groaned again, too overwhelmed by the sensations I was feeling. “Yeah, not everyone can take all ten inches, but you got me in you deep.”

“Ah . . . cool . . “ I said vaguely, trying to concentrate on staying conscious. This made the biker laugh, and slap his hand against my ass, causing my hole to clench, and the pressure on my prostate to increase. I groaned more, and he just held his cock in place.

“Right, man,” he said. “I’m gonna fuck you now. My cock’s gonna drive your prostate crazy. You’ll feel like you wanna take a piss. If you do, don’t fight it. Just relax, and you’ll soon see what it’s all about. Understand?”

I nodded. The biker slapped my ass again, making me shudder. Then, replacing the cigar in his mouth, I felt him pull back. It felt like I was taking an extended shit. A long thick cock pulling out of my ass, the release of pressure felt great, but as the head of his cock reached my sphincter, I felt him pushing back in. I groaned as the pressure built again, and as his knob reached my prostate again, I knew what he had meant. A tingling sensation in my cock and balls. Just like when I’m desperate to piss but I’m a minute away from a toilet. Fuck, I couldn’t explain if it was pain or pleasure. Probably both, but it was new, and strange, and I didn’t have a clue. The biker was watching my expression as he shafted my asshole. After a minute he took the stogie out of his mouth and put it into mine.

“You need this more than I do, fucker,” he said. “Smoke and inhale.”

I smoked the cigar, inhaling the smoke deep, letting it make me lightheaded as he started to pick up the pace. Long firm strokes were driving my prostate crazy. Each inward thrust got me closer to feeling as though I was going to piss myself. I felt something damp on my abdomen and wondered for a moment if I actually had. He carried on fucking my hole like that as I smoked the cigar, rocking back and forth and making me feel every inch.

Then he pushed forward, lifting my legs even higher. My ass was up in the air as he pulled back again. This time he slammed his cock into me hard. I bit down on the cigar, groaning as he pulled back and slammed into me again

“Arghhh!” I moaned. “FUCK!”

“Yeah, cunt,” he grinned. “Take biker cock.”

Shorter, faster strokes were driving me wild, but they weren’t as deep. The friction was heating up my ass. The pain was gone. All I felt was pleasure. I was smoking again, and I felt as though I just wanted to grab hold of my cock and jack off as he was fucking me.

“Oh awww! Yeah,” I started to moan, “Fuck”

This seemed to encourage the biker. He leaned back and pushed inside deep. I felt the pressure on my prostate again and moaned loud. And the short fast strokes started again, but this time the head of his cock was banging like a drum over that gland. I must have been moaning real loud. My head felt like it was going to explode. And then his gloved hands on my nipples again. I inhaled the cigar smoke deep, and felt that sensation he’d described. I’ve got to piss, I’ve got to piss!!

I didn’t fight it. I tried to relax and let it go. It was a feeling of intensity as I felt my cock rise upwards and the fluid started to pour out of me.

“FUCK YEAHHHH!” the biker yelled, drumming his cock harder. I felt it throb inside, and a spurting sensation as his cum started to flood the walls of my ass. He kept up with the short strokes as my cock spurted hard over me. Intense sensation flooded my brain and I almost passed out. After moment, or minutes, my head cleared. A sudden jolt made me wide-eyed as I felt the biker’s cock slip from my hole.

I sobbed again. Looking up, the biker was standing next to me, his semi-hard cock inches from my face, still dripping.

“Why you crying?” he asked.

“you fucked me and made me piss myself.” I moaned. The biker grinned. He reached down and ran his gloved finger across my hairy chest. He lifted it up and showed me the thick milky-white juice covering the finger.

“That’s wasn’t piss, fucker,” he grinned.

HOLY FUCK! This man had fucked me into shooting the biggest load I’d ever shot!

My head couldn’t get around that thought. I didn’t have time. The rag was over my mouth again. I struggled a little, but the chloroform did it’s work. My eyes closed and I passed out.

I woke later curled up inside a tight space. My eyes opened slowly and I let myself get accustomed to the light. It took a few minutes to realise where I was, bundled up in the back seat of my own car. The shackles had been removed. My cum-soaked suit had been left in a bundle on the front passenger seat. I was wearing something rough that covered me from collar to ankles, and I stepped out of my car to see where I was. I stumbled a little as I emerged into the car park of my own apartment block. I looked around. Dawn was breaking, and light started to flood in through the entrance to the car-park. I looked down at myself. I was barefoot in some kind of mechanic’s overall, completely naked underneath. At least I was alive. I put my hands into the overall pocket and found a piece of screwed-up paper. Taking it out, I read it. It was an invoice from the garage where I’d taken my car to have the dent fixed. I looked at the hood of the car and the dent had indeed been repaired. There wasn’t a trace of a mark on the shiny black paint-work.

I then looked more closely at the invoice, in the rapidly improving light. There seemed to be marks across the paper. Small damp stains. I sniffed at them. The unmistakable smell of cum. And at the bottom of the page:

“Amount due: Taken in kind.”