A Bathhouse Here in LA
From my first encounter with two guys in a cube, I came away
more horny and piggy than ever. I
engaged in an orgy of sex in the darkened back room, where numerous Loads found my Target—so that the Tops navigating my
Pussy found their Joy Sticks afloat in a morass of Jizm. You know how an Ass full of Cum makes
that distinct squishy sound?
Well, that fit me to a tea.
I had taken between 10 and 12 Loads. Spunk clung to my Balls and dripped down my thighs, and I reeked
of the scent of Poppers and Cum—the signature stench of a Pig Being Bred.
When I got home I went looking for more, and found a Twink, 25, online. He ate out my Pussy, fed it back to me in oral tongue lashings, then spunked me again. Because the Spooge in my Mancunt had ripened with age, the onslaught was more messy than his predecessors. My whole apartment reeked of Poppers and Cream.
Before taking a shower, I squeezed out the Spooge—just to
measure the volume—one viscous puddle, a full five inches across—a toxic potion, no doubt—the product of being
bred again and again.