BETRAYED
I took part in a Conversion Party at my
Ex's, one of the many I've attended over the years (the first was my own) where
Steve arranges for 3 or 4 POZ Tops to
breed a Bottom.
Last night a Vietnamese Boy named Pham
made his debut; and like all the guys Steve's converted, Pham was a Cum Whore
from the git-go.
Steve starts by making love to them and
gets them enamored of his flowing locks, his slim, hairless bod, and boyish
good looks which belie his 35 years.
After about 20 fucks, they trust him completely and let down their
guard.
Steve believes Asians make the world's
best Bottoms and likes them petite and slightly fem. Within a fortnight all his Boys are
taking it raw. Gradually he
proceeds from pulling out to pumping them full of Poison
Spooge. They get to
where they can't live without their daily fix of Toxic
Seed.
When the moon waxes full a second time,
and the Youth shows no sign of the Fuck Flu—that's when Steve throws in the towel
and calls us in. Since the
Victim is always Prime NEG Meat, my Ex has no trouble recruiting
GIFTERS to breed the POZ resistant Ass.
Pham was a cute 19, about 5'3" and
hairless, with a tiny Cock and nervous smile. Steve and his comrade, Oren, who loathed anyone more
generously endowed than he, were readying the Sling when I walked in. An unsuspecting Pham was upstairs
showering.
Pham had no suspicion that: 1) Steve was POZ and; 2) got his jollies POZZING
Boys. Consequently the Youth
couldn't have conceived that he was one of the few with whom Steve had
failed. And since Stevie was a
sore Loser, old Phamy was to be thrown to the wolves.
I'd met Pham on two previous occasions,
and we'd hit it off. I genuinely
liked the Kid. So he showed no
consternation when he saw me sitting there.
No sooner had Stevie told Pham to get
me a beer, than the doorbell rang and two more of Steve's cohorts
waltzed in. It was like old home
week. All of us already knew each
other from the waist down—and all of us were POZ. The two newcomers gave Pham a coarse
once over, and Phamy shuddered beneath the glare. He couldn't help but notice the bulge mushrooming in Davie's
crotch and the PreCum permeating Shawn's blue jeans.
Pham was whisked upstairs for the
preliminaries. Stevie hates for
his Bottoms to have a good time getting screwed by ANYOTHER—so he makes them
spooge before the fun begins.
They had not been upstairs more than a
minute when Stevie called me in. I
ascended to the Playroom and encountered one very rattled Pham. He loved Stevie so much, yet was aggrieved
by his suspicion something untoward was
going down. He was disrobed
and naked, and Steve was working his small Dick with his greased palm. "Tell him how it is," he
groused.
"We're gonna have an Orgy, Kid," I beat around
the bush. I knew the Boy was
disillusioned, as I'd once been—having fantasized about exclusive dibs on
Stevie's Jizz.
But my Ex knew his Pigs' true
nature—and led them down the primrose path to what comes naturally from
barebacking. We're a
narcissistic bunch, bent on a self-destructive course, with a one-way ticket to
misery and hell—but, hey, as they say, half the fun is getting there!
Steve asked that I anoint the Youth
with Baby Oil as he likes to call his debutantes "Greased
Pigs." I massaged
it by the palmful onto Pham's silky skin, the Boy moaning as I couldn't resist
slipping a slimey finger up his Ass. Unable to hold back, the Kid gyrated in Steve's
direction and spooged into his open palm.
The Master massaged the Youth's
Ejaculate up and down his heretofore infertile Penis, lathering it to the
extreme. Old Phamy was about to
get a taste of his own Seed.
It was obvious when the Boy'd been violated—grimacing, eyes widening and
glazing over. Oren, my favorite
Sadist, applauded from the doorway; and no sooner had Steve started fucking,
than Shawn and Davie walked in holding hands.
I'd partnered with Shawn on numerous
occasions, and knew first-hand how hung he was; and Davie, with his Beer Can Death Stick, posed a threat to any NEG.
The Boy was sweating. I
wiped the perspiration from his brow and whispered in his ear, that, after
tonight, “Enough would never be enough again.”
The Boy's eyes rolled back as I pressed
Poppers to his nose. Oren
moistened the Youth's parched lips with wispy filaments of HIV, while Steve deposited AIDS Load Number One up the young Mancunt.
Simultaneously Pham moaned in ecstasy
and desolation, despairing at betrayal by his Betrothed. In the end he probably took 10 Loads
that night, each one laden with The Bug. I won't even try to guess which one of
us knocked up the Kid—but he came down with a doozy Strain which knocked him
out for almost a month.
When Shawn and Davie finished up, I took my pleasure with the Youth whose
plundered, shell-shocked Manhole had been well pulverized. Steve and I each grabbed an
armpit and dragged the ailing Phamy to the boudoir, where, traumatized or not,
the Maestro planned to breed him one last time.
Meanwhile, Oren demanded “I get my Sloppy Cunt into the Sling.” Oren can be a very nasty Fuck, who'd
just as soon spit in your face as look at you. And that was my reward for helping out.
Afterwards, the house was quiet except
for the Pham's persistent whimpering as the gangbang and betrayal had reeked
havoc on his psyche and self-worth.
I certainly sympathized with the Boy, but was convinced, once he
recovered, we'd make a fantastic pair—at the Baths and Glory Holes
everywhere.