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Meeting Jason, Guest Post by Marcel Yeung

Content note: rough sex, name calling (faggot, slut), D/s play.

I looked up at him, trying to read his face. I couldn’t tell if he seemed pleased with my performance, but his eyes held mine with an intensity that both reassured me and frightened me. My hand stroked his cock again, a shimmering strand of saliva still connecting it to my lips, red and thick from my efforts. I gasped involuntarily as he roughly jerked me to my feet and bent to kiss me. His tongue invaded my mouth, claiming it again as he had with his cock. The girl part of me fluttered and squealed inside, so happy to have his attention, to receive his dominance. I would do anything he wanted at this moment, absolutely anything, despite the fact I had just met him.

“You’re my kind of boy,” he growled, a smirk playing at the corner of his lips. “Follow me.”

I did as he commanded, following meekly but bursting with excitement. My cunt was slick with anticipation, my mind racing with possibilities. I was swooning over his broad shoulders, his jeans skimming over narrow hips that I had just gripped as he pounded his cock into the back of my throat. This is so what I want, I thought, I am such a lucky fag. The street lights laid an amber glow over the quiet city. I had no idea what time it was. Hopefully plenty of night left, I thought, and chastised myself for being such a dirty slut. I desperately wanted to give my every fiber to this beautiful trans man, to let him fuck all my holes, to submit to his desire to tear into my willing flesh and use me for his pleasure.

The jangle of his keys jolted me from my fantasies. “We’re here, boy,” he said, fixing my wide brown eyes with his. I must have been completely transparent in my lusty excitement, because he chuckled as he looked back at me.

“You were born for this, faggot,” he grinned. “Get in here.” He shoved me against the wall of the entryway as he locked the door.

“You came here willingly, and by that I’m going to assume that you are mine to use tonight.” I nodded, my breath coming quickly through parted lips. I was getting scared, but my clit was throbbing insistently in my jeans. God I wanted this man like I had never wanted anything else. His face was serious as he pressed his palm to my chest, his thumb lodging under my collar bone, pinning me hard to the wall.

“Here are the rules, boy. I do whatever I want to you. You might not like it, but you’re here to please me, so you will do what I require. You will call me sir. If you want me to stop, you have only to say ‘stop’. That is the one directive you may give me, and I will do so immediately. But if you do not say stop, you are mine to do as I please. I won’t do anything that will hurt you for more than tonight. But I will fuck you, hard. Do you consent?”

I swallowed, consumed by his rich brown eyes. “Yes, sir,” I whispered, feeling energy zinging crazily inside me, like my skin could barely contain it.

He smiled a full, stunning smile and released me from the wall.

The apartment was small and dark, and he led me through the cramped living room to the bedroom in the back. Light from a streetlight painted the shadows of burglar bars onto the curtains covering the one small window. He turned and looked at me, but the smile was gone. I felt a sudden chill raise the fine hairs on my arms. This might have been a colossally stupid idea. What had I gotten myself into? He suddenly grabbed my shirt and pulled me close to him. I was off balance and under the spell of his muscular body.

“Let’s see what I get,” he murmured, “let me see this boy, my very own boy, my dirty cocksucking faggot slut.” His long fingers were nimble as he unbuttoned my shirt, button by button. I trembled under his touch, eyes down. He slid his hands lightly under the shoulders and lifted it off me, letting it fall to the floor. He made a sound of approval, tracing my jawline with his fingers, dropping them to the hollow at my throat and along my collarbone, slowly down across my bra, where my nipple strained against the cotton fabric. One arm around my back, he grabbed my breast with his other hand hard, eliciting an involuntary moan as my back arched into his hand, lust crashing over me. My knees abruptly went weak and I was glad for his support otherwise I might have collapsed. He pulled the bra off over my head and bent to take my nipple in his mouth, sucking and pressing with his lips at the same time.

He walked me backward a few steps and pushed me onto his bed. “You are mine, boy, all mine,” he said. The weak light from the window cast him all in angles. Cheekbone and jaw, shoulder, tricep.

“Yes sir,” I gasped, “oh, please sir,” and he was upon me, claiming my mouth with his as he ripped my pants open and shoved his hand inside my briefs. It was all I could do not to come at the first touch of his fingers, as he opened my dripping wet cunt and pressed my throbbing clit against his hand. I bucked against him, crying out.

“Take these off,” he commanded, and as fast I could, I stripped off my jeans and underwear to be naked for him. He pulled his cock out, forcing my legs open with his knee, moving on top of me like a tiger on top of its prey.

“You’re gonna take my big cock, boy,” he said, “I can tell this is all you want, to be a hole for me to fuck. Give me everything, you slutty little faggot. It’s all mine, you’re all mine to take.”

I gloried in his words, lifting my hips to meet his thrusts, crying out as he pounded into me. His cock was so big, so hard, it was overwhelming and I couldn’t help myself, I came in huge convulsions around him, my nails digging into his back.

“Oh fuck, sir, ohmygod, fuck, please sir!” My words disintegrated in the torrent of sensation, eroding into sounds I didn’t recognize. He didn’t stop, but fucked me hard and fast, his cock ravaging my hole. Colors exploded in my vision and I thought I was going to pass out, gasping unintelligibly my adoration of him. He pulled me to the edge of the bed, standing up and lifting my legs to his shoulders. He held my hips up and rammed his huge cock into my swollen pussy, his furious pace accelerating impossibly until he roared his orgasm like a nuclear reaction fusing his body to mine.

Afterward I clung to him, surprised by the sobs that he had wrung from me. I shuddered as hot tears ran down the sides of my face, tickling my ears. He held me, his cock still lodged inside me, crooning, “That’s my good boy, you didn’t hold back, you gave me everything. Your tears are beautiful, I accept them. Yes, you’re mine, you’re mine. I’ve got you, boy.”

And I am still his, after all these years.

Published by Marcel Yeung

Marcel Yeung is the anonym of a butch half-Chinese person hailing from the beautiful Pacific Northwest. They work as a government bureaucrat by day and write smut in the wee hours of the morning, after the kitchen is clean and their kids are asleep. This is their first published erotic story.

2 thoughts on “Meeting Jason, Guest Post by Marcel Yeung”

  1. Mary Wood says:

    Not a bad story for a first post.

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