Would you all be interested if I started posting short stories from some of my fun times that were not able to be filmed? I have lots 😏
Example:
The Florida heat was nothing compared to the fire burning in my veins as I stood at the entrance of The Oasis, a discreet hotel tucked away in Fort Lauderdale's gay district. I'd heard whispers about this place—the private sex rooms, the no-judgment policy, the kind of nights that left you wrecked in the best possible way. I just didn't expect to be the centerpiece of one.
I'm 5'8", pale as milk next to the bronzed gods that populated this city. A compact frame, smooth skin, the kind of guy who gets called "cute" more than "sexy." But tonight, I wanted to be something else entirely.
They found me at the bar—three giants who seemed to block out the light when they stood together. Marcus, Darius, and Khalil. Each one easily 6'4", built like they spent their lives moving heavy things for a living, muscles stacked on muscles. Their skin ranged from deep mahogany to rich espresso, and when they smiled down at me, I felt like prey that had willingly walked into the trap.
"You the one looking for some fun?" Marcus asked, his voice a low rumble that vibrated through my chest.
I nodded, unable to form words as I took in the bulge straining against his shorts. All three of them were packing—I could see it, thick outlines that made my mouth water and my ass clench in anticipation.
"We got the Sapphire Room," Khalil said, his hand landing on my shoulder, fingers digging into the muscle there. "You ready for that?"
The Sapphire Room. I'd heard rumors about what was inside—a full dungeon setup with equipment designed to push limits. My cock twitched in my shorts.
"Yeah," I managed. "I'm ready."
The room was everything I'd imagined and more. Dim blue lighting cast shadows across the equipment: a leather sex swing hanging from reinforced ceiling chains, a padded bench positioned in front of a row of lockers, rings and hooks embedded in the walls. The air smelled like leather and sanitizer, undercut with something primal.
They stripped me first, taking their time, their big hands roaming over my body like I was something precious. Darius lifted me onto the sex swing, adjusting the straps so my legs were spread wide, my ass hanging exposed. The leather creaked as I swung gently, completely vulnerable, completely theirs.
Marcus stepped between my thighs, and I saw it for the first time—his cock, thick as my wrist, curving upward, the head dark and glistening. He didn't bother with lube; he just spat in his palm, rubbed it over himself, and pressed against my hole.
"Breathe," he said, and then he pushed in.
I screamed. Not from pain, though there was plenty of that—but from the sheer fullness, the feeling of being split open by something too big to fit. He filled me completely, his hips pressing against my ass as he bottomed out, and I felt every inch, every vein, every pulse.
He fucked me in that swing for what felt like hours, the motion sending me swaying back and forth, my body bouncing with each thrust. Darius and Khalil watched, stroking themselves, their cocks even bigger than Marcus's, waiting their turn. When Marcus finally pulled out, his cum dripping down my thighs, they unhooked me and carried me to the bench.
This one was positioned right in front of a bank of lockers, cold metal pressing against my cheek as they bent me over. Darius took me from behind while Khalil fed me his cock, my mouth stretched wide around his girth. The sound of skin slapping against skin echoed off the walls, mixed with my muffled moans and their grunts.
They flipped me onto my back on the bench, my legs thrown over their shoulders, and took turns fucking me into the leather. At some point, they lifted me up, pressing me against the lockers, my feet dangling as they took me standing, my back scraping against the cool metal.
By the time they were done, I'd lost count of how many loads they'd pumped into me. Cum dripped from my hole, pooled on my stomach, painted my chest. My legs shook uncontrollably when they finally set me down, my knees buckling, my ass throbbing.
I couldn't walk. Literally couldn't. My legs gave out when I tried to stand, and I collapsed onto the bench, laughing breathlessly, utterly destroyed.
Khalil scooped me up like I weighed nothing, carrying me to the shower. "Told you we'd take care of you," he murmured against my hair.
They cleaned me up, dressed me, walked me to my car. Every step sent a jolt through my abused hole, a reminder of what I'd been through. As I drove home, I could still feel them inside me, stretching me, filling me.
I barely made it through my front door before collapsing into bed, my body singing with exhaustion and satisfaction. I slept like the dead, dreaming of three dark gods and a blue-lit room where I learned exactly what my body could take.