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The Right Wing Alpha - Part 1

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When I had graduated college I thought that the world was my oyster. I was going to be somebody! I had been offered a position at the marketing firm where I had interned during college and was moving to the big city. It was the dream of every privileged kid who grew up in a blue suburb like I had. Five years later my reality looked very different. I had never even been considered for a promotion and six months of interviewing had not resulted in any offers. I decided to go to grad school. I get into only one of the three programs I had applied to. I was so excited about the new opportunity that I gave notice immediately and moved about 2 months before the program even began. This particular school was located in a small city that was known to be a pretty conservative area. The adjustment was proving to be a bit of a challenge. Up until this point I was a true city boy. I was almost 28 and I didn’t even know how to drive. I found a small apartment a couple blocks from campus and took a job at a coffee shop across the street and a couple doors down. It was convenient, but I wasn’t received as I had hoped. The owner, Joe, gave me all the most menial jobs; taking out the trash, cleaning the coolers, and wiping down the tables. To even call me a barista would be a stretch. I knew my standards were higher than this towns. I had been drinking coffee for 10 years, until I gave it up last year because it started to make me jittery and more anxious than I usually was to being with. It left me feeling pretty useless. I knew about coffee, was personable, and I knew how to sell from my career in marketing. I needed this job so it was best to not argue. It quickly became clear that our clientele skewed very conservative. I kept my opinions to myself, but it seemed everyday I heard things that people would be crucified for where I was from. I was quickly becoming very lonely and once my apartment was decently assembled I found myself devoting most nights to trash TV and browsing the apps looking for a local Dominant Top. There were very few options and hardly any conversation I was able to strike up went anywhere. I had exchanged photos with a few men, but most didn’t even respond. This was even worse for my ego. I was becoming depressed in my loneliness so I asked for more hours. They were kind enough to put me on doubles Tuesday, Wednesday, and Thursday evenings if I agreed to no overtime. These days were surprisingly busy for a coffee shop as a different social group met there each of these nights. They were all right wing, but different age groups. Tuesday night was uneventful. Not one person even spoke to me as I tidied up for closing around these men that acted like they didn’t even see me. On Wednesday I was in back doing dishes when the meeting assembled, but when I emerged from the kitchen my jaw nearly dropped. There was one of the men I had messaged with just a few days prior. There was no mistaking it. There he was. 6’3”, shaved head, thick dark beard, piercings blue-green eyes. He wore a black long sleeve T-shirt with the Carhartt logo, stained blue jeans, and huge well-work tan construction boots. He sat there with his legs spread wide as he listened to the meeting introduction. Next to his coffee he had a pack of cigarettes and a red MAGA hat. He looked me right in the eye. Fuck! There was no doubt he recognized me. I froze, then turned and scurried back into the prep area. My anxiety was peaking. Had he recognized me? Would he out me? Would they fire me? WHAT HAD I DONE? I hid in the back for at least 30 minutes doing anything I could think of to seem busy, but soon I was out of things to organize or clean. I had to go back out there. The second I emerged again he stared me down. He had put his MAGA hat on. I’d never been attracted to a man like this before. My eyes dropped to the floor, his boots. Size 13s. Fuck! He had told me his shoe size during our brief conversation the other night. What was I doing? My eyes darted around the room and then locked on his crotch. His left hand rest between his pocket and fly. He was silently, slowly snapping his fingers. His hands were huge. His knuckles were hairy. His bulge was obscene. Fuck! I took a quick glance at his face and he was grinning at me, but quickly looked away once he knew I’d seen him. To my relief he rejoined the conversation with the other men about the critical threat of the women’s equality movement and the power simple accusations had these days. They all agreed, women were doing everything to castrate men these days. I tidied up behind the counter until my boss ordered me to go clear the empty tables and collect any discards. Mister big boots, MAGA hat had his legs stretched so wide and into the aisle that I had to high-step to get passed him. I was nervous being that close to him and the high-step made me feel even more vulnerable, but he ignored me. On my return trip I was not so lucky. I had just snuck quietly passed him when he spoke up “Prettyboy, why don’t you go get me a refill. You can handle that, can’t you?” Prettyboy was the profile name I had used on the app. Fuck! His voice was like gravel and echoed my ears. I turned my head. We caught eyes. I paused. He looked me up and down, then fixated right on my ass. I squeaked out “Yes, Sir,” and hurried off to grab the pot. My heart was beating a mile a minute and my face was beat red, but I thought if I just hurried it would be over soon. I squatted just slightly as I refilled his mug. Why had I taken such a feminine posture? Fuck! He didn’t say a word or even look at me. Lucky me. I was going to be okay. The meeting ended and the group left shortly before closing. I completely my closing checklist and made my way home. Finally I was safe and I reflected on the night. I had survived, at least for now. I needed to be smarter going forward. I opened the app I’d met MAGA hat man on and saw he’d sent me a message. Fuck! I deleted my account without even opening the message. In the shower I continued to reflect and found myself getting really turned on. I thought about his enormous bulge and what it must contain, his big hands and how easily they could hurt me, that rough beard and how it would feel on my soft skin, his deep voice and what a natural Alpha he was, and how brave he must be to hold such extreme views. I laid in bed unable to sleep that night. I jerked off three times and still my dick was hard. My shift started at 6AM. Between lack of sleep and my dick that still would not relax I was very distracted. He came in around lunch time. I hid in back. After a few minutes I peeked out and saw him talking with Joe. Joe came in back to find me a few minutes later and told me that a customer from the Wednesday night group was very impressed with me and that next week he would train me on the machines. He had been worried I wouldn’t fit in, but he now felt he had misjudged Disaster averted! Things were looking up. It was dark when I left the cafe. I was deliriously tired, but texted my mother to share the good news as I walked. She had heard plenty of me complaining about the tasks I’d been assigned. I was fishing for my keys when I noticed a tall man standing on my landing. Fuck! It was big boots, MAGA hat. I gasped audibly and turned to walk the other way. He bellowed “Prettyboy! Get over here.” His voice somehow seemed even deeper. I was terrified. I wanted to burst into tears but I choked them back, and obeyed his order. He was blocking my entrance to my building. He towered over me as I stood on the sidewalk. An awkward silence grew. I could hardly breathe. He broke the silence. “You pour a pretty good cup of coffee there boy.” I stuttered, unable to form a sentence. He cut me off, “I spoke to the Joe about you. We grew up together. He told me where you lived,” “That was you?” “I bet you’re good at a lot of things, aren’t you pretty boy?” he said with a sneer. I looked up at him as he stared down into me. “I, uhhhh, yes Sir,” “Sir. I like that” he said as he took a long drag on his cigarette. Fuck! I knew what he meant. Suddenly I was wide awake. “My name is Dave” he said with an outstretched hand. “Tim” was all I could eke out. I extended my hand. He gripped it tightly and held it. “We are going to have to teach you some manners aren’t we, timbo?” I cracked a nervous smile. “Invite me up” he commanded.

He moved just a little so I could step onto the landing and open the door. As I struggled to fit the key in the lock I could feel his warmth radiating from his body. He placed his hand on my right shoulder. As I looked down his dirty tan work boot appeared between my sneakers. I felt his enormous bulge press into my butt cheek. Fuck! The door opened and I stepped forward quickly to create space. I held the door for him but didn’t dare look back. I climbed the stairs quickly. I glanced back as I rounded the landing. His eyes were locked on my ass. Fuck! Was this really happening? Yes, it was. No turning back now. I had an easier time with my apartment lock and had it open in a flash. I stepped in and held the door for him. He removed his jacket and held it out for me. As I hung it in the closet he said “I’ll take a beer, boy.” I walked quickly to the kitchen. I had three Corona Light left in the fridge. I opened two and returned to find him splayed comfortably across my couch. I felt his eyes burning into me as I walked over and handed him one of the cold beers. He took it and then said “Boots, boy. Off. Now!” I stood there, my mouth hanging open. What did he just say? He stomped his foot. Instinctively I dropped to my knees and placed the other beer to the side on the floor. I struggled to untie the heavy duty laces and began to apologize. He ignored me and picked up my beer off the floor and placed it on the side table out of my reach. Finally I had them both off. His feet were huge size 13s and his socks had holes worn in them. I looked up as he stared down. Time stood still. Then he nodded and I knew what he meant. I removed both socks and placed them to the side with his boots. He stood up and I had to jump back onto my heels to clear his way. “We are going to work on those manners boy. Don’t you worry. Now it’s time for you to clean yourself up. Where is the bathroom?” I stood and walked through the kitchen and into the bathroom as he followed. As soon as we crossed the threshold he pulled my shirt up over my head, but didn’t remove it. I was temporarily blinded. He quickly unbuttoned my pants and in one quick motion ripped my pants and briefs down to my ankles. He grunted in approval and he began squeezing and smacking my naked ass. I managed to remove my shirt and turned to look at him. The look on his face was all the approval I needed. I bent down to untie and remove my shoes. He knelt and began to finger my hole. One, then two, then three. He moved fast! I nearly fell over twice, but soon I was free of my shoes, pants, and little briefs. He stood as I cowered. We both smiled in unison. Fuck! I have never been with a man like this before. I climbed into the shower as he stood back. I did my best to wash quickly, but wanted to be thorough. I heard him grab something and walk out. I peeked. He had taken all of my clothes. I heard him return a couple minutes later and then leave again. I finished and stepped out to find a little white jock he had selected out of my underwear drawer. I slipped on the jock, checked myself out quickly, and returned to the living room to find him back on the couch. He had stripped down to his t-shirt and plaid boxers. I was half way to seated when he grunted “unh-uhh” and disappointment washed across his face. I gulped and folded to the floor between his outstretched legs. He took a long swig of beer as I looked up at him searching for some sign of approval. It finally came. “Atta girl,” He said with a new deviant tone barely louder than a whisper. Relief washed over me. His manly scent enveloped me. I refocused and my eyes dropped, then panic set in again. There was an enormous tube of hot flesh slowly growing further and further across his left hip. My breathing became shallow and erratic. My mouth watered. He pulled out a cigarette and lit it. I swallowed and he chuckled “You ever meet somebody like me in the city, cuntboy?” I shook my head no, still mesmerized by his giant penis. “You like it here don’t you boy?” Still unable to form words I nodded yes. “Kiss my feet, faggot!” He shouted. I kissed, the top of his left foot, then the right while trying to convince myself that the walls were thick enough to hide this humiliation from the neighbors. I stared up at him and could tell by the look on his face that he was not satisfied. I continued to kiss the tops of his feet, three times each, then 10 times each, then something clicked and I lost myself in the lust for his manly musky feet. His soles were rough and I was licking every inch, gnawing ever so gently at the callouses, licking and suck each toe and in between. His feet were so huge that with his heel at my chin his toes were over my forehead, and he curled them rhythmically to smack my head. I had never felt smaller. I could tell by his subtle groans that he was enjoying my work and this made me feel warm inside. All my fears were gone. This incredibly manly man, this arrogant alpha prick, could have demanded anything he wanted and I would have done it graciously. He finished the second beer, grabbed both bottles and held them out for me to take. I grabbed them and scurried to the kitchen. I returned with the last beer and presented it on my knees. He snatched it roughly from my hand and a small amount spilled on the floor. He pointed to it and I knew exactly what I meant. I licked it up as best I could until I felt his huge hand grip me by my hair, lift me up, and pull me towards him. He took a sip and then spit it into my open mouth. I swallowed and smiled, staring up at this man who I so desperately needed to impress. His hand still gripped my head. It hurt, but I didn’t mind. Strangely, I felt safe in his grasp. I respectfully informed him that the beer in his hand was the last one in the house. He dropped me and I fell to the floor. It was cold on my ass cheeks. He began “You’ve got a lot to learn about hospitality, city boy. We take it seriously out here. Let’s start with some rules: The moment we are alone you will drop to your knees and kiss my feet. This is how faggots say hello to MEN. You will not speak without permission. If you have something to say you may kiss my feet and I may or may not address you. You do what you’re told when you’re told. If you have questions there will be time for that later. Keep that fridge stocked boy. If there is ever less than 12 beers in that fridge you’re going catch hell. And none of this pussy Corona shit. Lager! That’s MAN beer. Consequences: I have the right to deliver your punishment in anyway I see fit, and you’ll thank me each time when it is over. Your default punishment will be spanking, as long and hard as it needs to be for you to learn. Got it, timbo?“ “Yes SIR!” I said without hesitation as I smiled up at him. He took a good long chug of his beer, then let out a large belch as he adjusted on the couch. “Now climb up here. It’s time for your punishment.” The look on his face terrified me. For the first time since I’d unlocked the door I was truly afraid. It was written all over my face and this made him happy. I saw his huge hard cock jump in his boxers. Fuck! What had I just agreed to? Who was this MAN? This Dave? Annoyed with my hesitation he grunted “Come on!” I rose off my knees and slowly climbed onto the couch, my knees next to his right thigh. He present the back of his right hand for me to kiss. I did as I fought back tears of fear. I looked to him for mercy, but he just guided me down over his lap with reassuring steady force. His enormous cock was rock hard now and ran from around my belly button past my left nipple. It was straining against the thin fabric of his old cheap boxers and was so long that it extended out beyond his hip where a large wet spot had formed from his precum. I was so turned on I forgot about my fear and instinctively stuck my ass up so I could slide back and forth a little and both massage and study this huge dick with my body. “Are you going to fight me timbo?” he asked menacingly. Before I could form the words he said “No, you’re not.” He was right. There was no doubt in my mind. He spoke plainly. “Now, you owe me 9 for the beers and 5 more for that stunt you pulled walking away from me. Let’s not let that happen again, or it’ll be double. You understand me, timbo?” The words came easily this time. “YES SIR!” My punishment began. Holy Hell! His hands were enormous and heavy. Each blow stung far worse than I could have imagined. He worked in a pattern; right cheek, left cheek, dead center as he counted. By the twelfth blow I had lost it. I was hyperventilating and begging profusely for mercy. At fourteen I was relieved and began to sob. Then BOOM! His strong hand came down again, and again, and again. I stopped begging and just sobbed. Then it was over. I felt him relax and I clung to him like a we were skydiving and he had the only shoot. He held me and caressed me. The residual pain washed over me in waves while I felt and smelled his rough beard for the first time. I thanked him profusely, babbling like an idiot. He spoke softly “Don’t ever interrupt me boy. That earns you extra. Show some GOD DAMN respect.” Finally the pain settled to a dull burn. He cleared his throat and then stood up sending me crashing back to the floor. I sat there a tear soaked red bottomed broken mess as he finished the last of the beer. He grabbed me by the arm and begun to drag me to the bathroom. I struggled to stand the whole way but just couldn’t get my feet completely under me at the pace he was moving. He shoved me into the bathroom ahead of him and I was finally able to stand. I paused, unsure what was happening. These were the scariest moments. He yanked my jock down to my feet again. I stepped out of it. He took my arm again and guided me into the tub. I saw now that his dick had softened some and now stuck out straight, creating the most obscene tent I had ever seen. Had he not been so thick I am sure it would have popped through the fly of his ratty old boxers. The button had was already missing. A new wet spot had formed. I was overcome with lust again. I sat there mesmerized for a minute. I needed to see it. I looked up at him and bit my lip. He stared back and nodded. I gently tugged, alternating each leg until his thick forest of pubes began to emerge. Then the root, then the shaft, and more shaft, and more shaft. Then finally the head. Another tug and it sprung loose and stood at attention. It was like staring down the barrel of a double barrel shotgun. My jaw dropped. I glanced up at him and back at this truly amazing cock over and over, trying to wrap my head around what I was seeing. He cleared his throat again and then unleashed a torrent of hot beer piss aimed straight at my face. I shut my eyes and he centered his aim right between them. Then at my hair. It cascaded down over my neck, back, chest and shoulders until every inch of me was drenched in hot alpha piss. Then it stopped. I wiped my eyes and looked up at him. He was expressionless. He asked “Do you want to put your lips around this dick?” By the time he had said lips I was already shaking my head yes. He stepped forward and I wrapped my lips around the fat head. I tried to go deeper and suck but he would pull back, so it was clear I was to just let the head rest in my mouth. I looked up at him, trying to understand what to do next. He asked “you ready?” and I knew. He wanted me to drink the rest. I just stared back. He cracked a smile and the piss came flowing. He looked down at me from above and I stared up at him, determined to make him proud. His flow was powerful and I worked hard to chug it all down. He began to swivel his hips an inch this way and that. Lucky for me his dick was huge even soft so his enormous head stay locked between my lips, but the trajectory of the stream changed and somehow changed the taste. This was all brand new to me, but once I abandoned my pride it was delicious. It tasted like purpose. It was difficult to conceive of time during an act like this, but after what I would guess was about 30 seconds I began to panic and struggle a bit. How could one man hold this much piss? He raised his eyebrows and his nostrils flared as the stream intensified for just a second, and then slowly wained until it was over. I had survived. I was panting and trying to regain all the oxygen I had sacrificed to accommodate this powerful man. I needed to burp. He shook his dick clean and the warm drops felt great on my now cold wet skin. As I took stock of myself, a crumbled mess in a tub covered head to toe in piss he walked away. A few seconds later he returned and commanded “Smile!” I looked up as the flash of his camera phone went off. Then again and again. I was smiling by the third. He had a second phone in his other hand. It was mine. He demanded my password which I immediately gave. He airdropped the photos to me and then said “See you around faggot,” and turned the cold shower knob and left me there shivering. It took me a minute before I could even get up off my knees or adjust the water. I heard my apartment door open and shut. He was gone. I washed as thoroughly as I could, but I could not escape the smell of his piss. I checked the clock. It was now 11:30 and I had to be at work again at 6AM. I brushed my teeth and used the toilet. It brought me right back to that first moment when his piss hit me right between the eyes. I laid in bed wide awake replaying the nights events and tried playing with myself but I couldn’t get hard.

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