Billy and Devin learn a new definition of male bonding.
Fantastic forced faggotry.
Prettiest lad on the rugby squad also had the lowest testosterone. Nice muscular legs but hairless as a woman, and nestled between a tiny dinky that doesn’t even clear his shirt. Check out the bearded guy right behind him licking his lips in appreciation of the kid’s big, smooth can.
He can laugh it off as “just taking the piss,” but his status in that male hierarchy has forever plummeted, as all now know that he has all the sexual prowess (and equipment) of a prepubescent boy.
Nice cuckold MMF. His legs spread wide revealing his deactivated mahood, as his wife’s bull humps away above him. Even though the pathetic SOB will never enter his wife’s pussy again, his degraded presence and towel-boy status is integral to the raw sex going on atop him.
The big hairy old bastard plants the seeds of lifetime faggotry in his business rival’s son by driving his cock deep up his backside and emptying those big bull balls up the kid’s guts. Nice side fuck. Listen to that bitch moan his renouncement of his manhood.
Locked in under a man who outweighs him by 40 lbs and has about 20 years on him. Daddy’s big dong docked in, the rosie cheeked lad isn’t going anywhere. He’ll accept his hairy-arsed man’s seed and get bred like the bitch faggot he is.
“Listen closely boy, so you can fully comprehend how your status has changed. A week ago, you were Mr. Edward Weston III, hedge fund manager, respected businessman, president of your country club, polished and put together at all times. Now, you are PIG…you know, the name I had tattooed on your back. I’ve exposed you for the degraded cock slut you really are. I ripped your posh suit right off your back, and made you watch, naked and shivering, as I burned the rags in an alley way. I had you shaved head to toe at my buddy’s barber shop, in front of all those bikers, remember. I saw the tears in your eyes as that fancy, expensive haircut fell to the floor, and your manhood was sheared right off. I had you inked and ringed, and jut smiled as you screamed when they pierced your tit and dick head. You’d better get used to the pain. Then remember our trip to The Leatherman, to get you fitted for your collar, cock ring and ball stretchers? You were so nervous, thinking someone from your old life might recognize you walking down the street in just a pair of old mesh shorts that I had torn the lining out of. Damn, the whistles and catcalls you got. But I told you, get used to all of it, ‘cause this is your life now. Forget Edward Weston III, Pig…he doesn’t exist anymore. And tonight, in this field here, you are going to get fucked by me, by my buddies, by any strangers that may happen by…right on the ground, in the muck and mire, and you are going to earn the name PIG!
I’d always hated using a urinal at the office, or anywhere else for that matter. I never liked to show my, ahhh, shortcomings in public, and always went to a stall or a urinal at the end. But tonight, I was at work rather late, and I thought the place was mostly empty. Plus, I really had to go. I had just unzipped and pulled out my penis when I heard the washroom door open. “Shit!” I thought to myself, as I heard the clack of wing tips on the tile floor behind me. I couldn’t very well zip up now and leave, so I decided to hurry and get out as quickly as I could. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw a guy in a charcoal suit stand right next to me.
“Oh, hello, Sir…I thought you had left.”
Shit! It was one of our firms new hires, Derek Anderson. He was a cocky young guy who I had taken an instant dislike to. In fact, I had given him several warnings about his attitude and sloppy work habits in the short time he had been here. Now I really had to get out of here. I tried to stop mid-stream, but couldn’t stem the flow. Suddenly, I heard Derek let out a short laugh and a snort. Startled I turned my head, and I could see him looking right at my crotch, a sneer on his face and an evil gleam in his eyes.
“Goddam,” he said, “Are you fucking kidding me with that thing? Is that little nub of skin really your cock?”
My face got hot and red, and I began to stammer and try to zip up.
“No way, man…I gotta get a better look at this.” He reached over and I was shocked when he took my dick and balls in his hand. I was still dribbling piss, which he seemed not care about. I tried to pull away, but Derek tightened his grip.
“Fucking hell, you’re a small boy, aren’t you boss? I can barely even see that pathetic thing through your pubes! Damn it, that can’t be more than what…two inches? I’m working with five here.”
With that he turned and I saw his thick, uncut cock…larger soft than mine had ever been hard. I was speechless, I couldn’t form a coherent thought, humiliation had taken complete hold over me. As Derek continued laughing and fondling my dick, a stream of piss dribbled out of his cockhead and splashed right on my polished leather shoes.
“Oops…looks like I got some on you,” chucked Derek. “And you got some on my hand, too.” He released my cock and wiped his wet hand on my jacket lapel, soaking it with my own piss. I was so overcome by shame, I couldn’t even muster anger at his actions.
“And to think you’ve been acting like a big shot around here, giving me attitude. I think that’s going to change, boy, don’t you?” Derek shook a few last drops of piss off and onto my suit pants before zipping up. I just stood here…my tiny little cocklette still exposed, my head bowed in shame. He walked to the sink to wash his hands, “Yes, boy, from now on, you’re going to treat me with the respect that I deserve. After all, you’re nothing more than a small-cocked faggot. I ought to expose you to the whole office, but I’m feeling generous. Tomorrow, we’ll discuss my promotion and increased salary. And we’ll take it from there, boy!”
It was all I could do to mumble my assent, knowing that I had to do as Derek ordered. I realized I had no authority left, no dignity, nothing. I was under his control. “Oh, and one more thing, boy. I want you to take care of those pubes tonight. Shave ‘em all off. Only men have hair…and you’re only pretending to be a man,” Derek said as he walked out the door.
A sob escaped my lips and I sank, defeated, to the floor, right into the puddle of piss that my former subordinate had left for me.
Go on, kiss. May as well at this point.
Forced faggotry at its finest.
Question with 4 notes
sizeplay asked: Love that you pointed out that shamrock neck to his little bottomboi Irish Curse!
Haha glad you like it. As an Irish American guy with a big fat hog between my legs I love to see all the big beefy guys with shamrock tats or Erin Go Bragh tramp stamps and tiny little peckers.
Small-dicked bitch spreading his legs passively for a real man. Love the shamrock tattoo just north of his little Irish curse .
Big Swinging Dicks
You like your titties squeezed while I’m fucking your pussy? Fucking using that cunt, gonna dump a load in it.
Keep lifting bro maybe it’ll make your little pecker get bigger.
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