Right out of Hell

The soft red light of dawn poured through the window onto my face. I was nearly in the fetal position at the foot of an unfamiliar bed, the skin of my forehead stiff with dried cum. I couldn't recall exactly how many men had filled my ass with their seed the night before, but I was unable to forget the only one who sprayed himself all over my face. He caught my eye right before he unloaded, totally silent as he came and never breaking eye contact. In my memory, his features were a blur, but the intensity of that moment is seared into my memory.

I gathered my jeans and t-shirt off the floor and threw them on, making sure my wallet and keys were still in my possession. I glanced back at the guy sprawled on the top half of the bed, with his soft cock resting on his left thigh. He was attractive enough and hung enough, but I had no recollection of him fucking me, of what sort of face he made when he came, of whether he called me "bitch" or "faggot," of how many spasms of his dick it took for him to unload in my ass. Nothing of his five to twenty minutes inside my ass stuck with me. Then again, none of it usually stuck with me.

On the drive home into the blinding rising sun, I couldn't stop thinking about the cum bath my face had received. Why did that guy seem so familiar? Why was such a minor moment such an obsession? I could literally feel my brow furrowing, because his dried cum was still marking my skin. My cock grew harder and I couldn't help rubbing it as I drove.

At home I took a quick shower, before I headed back out to work. I needed to get there before my boss. She would always let me go early if she saw I had arrived first. It would have probably been easier to just not slut on work nights, but I had reached the point where cum was like air to me. I needed a nightly injection in order to just keep existing.

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At about 3:30, my boss told me that I should go on home, that I had done a great job, but that I looked exhausted from getting in so early. After a nap, I grabbed some dinner and found my way to a bar downtown. It was still pretty early on a weeknight, so the place was pretty dead.

The only guy worth noticing seemed to be watching me without looking directly at me as I ordered a drink. He had a small patch of facial hair under his lower lip that, just like his perfectly styled hair, was jet black. His shoulders were broad and there was more black hair poking out of the top of his tight polo and dusting his huge arms. I couldn't help staring, and I'm sure he noticed. After a couple more minutes of idle chat with a bartender, who, I could tell, was just as infatuated as I was, my black-haired god put down his empty glass and made his way down the bar toward me.

"Let me guess," he began with no other introduction, "Five feet ten inches tall. One hundred and sixty pounds, but you routinely shave at least ten pounds off that when anyone asks for your stats. Twenty-six years old."

Glancing down, he continued, "Seven inch circumcised cock. Pubic hair slightly redder than the rest of your hair. And an asshole significantly looser than your innocent face would lead anyone to believe."

Stunned at the accuracy of all of his guesses, I replied, "Either you've been stalking me for years or you have past experience running a 'Guess Your Weight' booth at the fair."

Before he turned and walked off toward the restroom, he only gave me the slightest of smiles. Or perhaps it was more of a smirk.

The night wore on. A couple of friends showed up. Strangely, I didn't try very hard to find a fuck that night. I'd like to say that in hindsight I knew everything would work out -- that would make this an easier story to tell. But by that point I was already gone, and even though I didn't know it, he certainly did.

He sat at a table with about six friends, all of them impossibly attractive. They seemed to be carrying on a low-key conversation, and although everyone in the place kept eying them, no one approached their table the whole night.

At about a quarter 'til two, they all stood up together and dispersed throughout the bar. He walked right up to me, placed his hand on the back of my neck, and whispered, "How about I bury my nose in those red pubes."

His place was only two blocks from the bar. He poured us both something to drink without saying a word. I could not peel my eyes off of him. We chatted for a while about my job, my family, my sexual proclivities. He said very little about himself, but the satisfaction of merely being in his presence quieted my curiosity.

I rose from the couch as he took my empty glass, and when he returned he began removing my clothes. He knelt before me, still fully clothed, and took my cock into his mouth in its entirety. I closed my eyes and my head slumped backward as darts of pleasure emanating from my dick spread throughout my body. I lost all track of time. We could have been there for days with my cock buried in his mouth.

I fell back into time just as I could feel my orgasm emerging. At that same moment, I felt his mouth recede and I opened my eyes to see him, now completely nude, back onto my cock. His ass was tighter than any I had eveer felt before and I was only able to fuck his ass with short stroke before I could feel my cock unleash my cum, my seed, my essence into him.

At that moment I felt utterly empty. I felt no desire, no emotion, no pleasure. He pulled off my dick and turned to face me. Gently grabbing my neck again, he looked deeply into my eyes, searching for my soul, and moaned, "Now you have to make a choice."

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