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 The Classified Ad 6 (Mf anal humil choke) by Foxbat


Disclaimer: This story contains graphic sex should not be

   read if such stories are illegal in your state, or if you are a minor.

   Please feel free to distribute this, on the condition that the
disclaimer and author's name remain intact and unaltered.

   For previous parts, or other stories of mine, please check out my
website (thanks to ASSTR) at /~foxbat/ where you can
find all of my work as well as some recommendations.  All the content is
also available via ftp at ftp.asstr.org/pub/Authors/foxbat/

   Feedback, comments, suggestions, etc are always welcomed and appreciated
at foxbat00@gmail.com







   The Classified Ad 6 (Mf anal humil choke) by Foxbat



   I knew he would make me pay for it, that he would do something more than
he usually did to "punish" me.  But I was a little drunk and more than a
little horny.

   Being a student athlete, I didn't go out very often since morning
practice always comes early.  But we'd just won a big game that night and
had a respite from practice for a few days as we were near the end of our
season.  A bunch of my teammates and I had gone out, and when the talk
turned to boys I started getting turned on thinking of my man.  But because
we weren't dating so much as fucking, I didn't have much to contribute.  I
think they suspected I was seeing someone, though - they probably just
thought I was too prudish to discuss it.

   So I called him.  He was very short on the phone:

   "What." It was more of a statement than a question when he answered.

   I explained I'd been out and that I wanted to see him.

   "You want to see me, or you want to get fucked?" he asked.  I could
picture him with that inscrutable look on his face, waiting for me admit my
weakness.

   I looked around the bar to make sure no one else was in immediate
earshot.  I'd gone to the back of the bar to make the call, leaving my
girlfriends at the table.  "I want you to fuck my brains out."

   "I'll be there in five.  You'd better have your panties in your hands
when I get there."

   The line went dead.  I glanced back at our table - I'd contemplated
meeting back at my place, but this was ok.  I ducked into the ladies room
and stepped out of my red thong.  I hadn't gone out with the intention of
having it seen, but something about it made me feel sexy-dirty, and I liked
feeling that way when I went out.  I wadded it up into a small ball of
dampness in my hand, and went back out.

   Just as I stepped back outside, I saw him enter the bar.  He was dressed
in black, and had probably been out himself.  He had an irritated
expression on his face, like a parent forced to go on an errand for a
thoughtless child.  I caught his eye, and he strode towards the back of the
bar directly towards me.

   When he came close, he moved me back up against the back wall by
invading my personal space until I had to step backwards.  He regarded me
for a moment, staring at me like a possession, as if he were debating how
much I mattered to him, disdain in his eyes.

   I meekly presented my fistful of red panty, which he grabbed.  Making no
effort to conceal what was in his other hand, he grabbed me by the elbow
and ushered (read as dragged) me back towards the bathrooms.  I tried to
turn towards the Womens room, but he pushed me past it.

   Will roughly yanked the door open to the Mens room.  A startled guy
looked up from sitting on the toilet.

   "Get out."

   The small part of my brain that still functioned through the haze of
sexually heightened fear noted that Will's voice of command seemed to have
an effect on more than just me.  His deadpan monotone, delivered with
complete calm, seemed to convey confidence at an animal level.

   After a moment of confusion, the man shitting looked down and muttered,
"ok...  jeez."

   Will made no motion to leave and didn't break eye contact.  I blushed
furiously and tried to look like I wasn't part of this scene, which was
difficult considering that Will still had a vice-grip lock on my arm.

   In abbreviated embarrassed motions, the man stood, wiped, and hitched up
his pants.  He moved to leave.

   "Flush."

   He paused, and then complied, still looking down.  As he shuffled out,
still doing his belt, Will pushed me in and closed the door, locking it
with the small slide lock that looked like it provided only purely symbolic
protection.

   "Take your dress off."

   I complied, pulling my slinky black dress over my head.  I was now naked
except for my high heels.  Will hooked my dress on a wall hook provided for
jackets, and stuffed my panties (which had remained visible in his hand
until now) into his pocket.

   "Get on your knees, slut."

   I looked at the floor.  The bathroom was small (a single holer) and the
walls were covered with graffiti.  The floor was wet with sink water and
urine, papier-mached with stray pieces of tp, kleenex and newspaper.  The
whole place was dark, a little cold, and smelled.

   I got on my knees, feeling the slickness between my legs.  I burned with
shame at the thought - I was already aroused at the thought of blowing him
on the bathroom floor of some bar bathroom.  I imagined what my friends
would think.

   I knew what to do next.  I unzipped his fly and fished around until I
found his cock.  I licked my lips and started sucking on the head.  I saw a
bright light and felt pain as Will slapped me hard.

   "You don't get to suck my cock tonight.  I get to fuck your face."

   With one hand across the back of my head wrapped in my hair, and one
hand under my chin, he began to piston his cock in and out of my mouth,
forcing it all the way down on the in-stroke.

   Let me take a momentary diversion here.

   I first discovered internet porn when I was in middle school.  One of my
girlfriends was was triumphantly bragging about giving a blowjob to one of
the guys in the in-clique.  I remember listening, and trying very hard to
control my reactions.  I knew I was probably flushing, but hoped it would
be mistaken for blushing as I tried hard to breath slowly.  She described
how his dick looked, veined and throbbing in her hand.  I shifted in my
seat, hyperaware of the wet spot slowly spreading under my through my
panties.  I imagined it was me, with his large organ in my hand, him
sneering down at me with a premature look of satisfaction.

   She described how it tasted, salty and musty.  I imagined it in my
mouth, me looking up at him as I pleasured him.  Him looking down at me,
stroking my hair.  I imagined my lips moving over the veins, my tongue
swirling.  She described how he came, breathing hard and grunting.  I
imagined the pulses of hot sperm shooting out.  She described, with
distaste, how he had pushed her head down, almost making her gag.  I
imagined, with a flush of dirty excitement, him pushing my head down as he
grunted out his orgasm.  I imagined him looking down at me, making me lick
him clean.

   There, in front of my girlfriends, at the end of the blow-by-blow, was
the only time I've ever had an orgasm without touching myself.  I squeezed
my legs together as the images in my head pushed me over the edge.

   "Isn't that gross?" one friend asked, mistaking my stifled gasp of
pleasure for a stifled choke of disgust.

   "That's nasty," I agreed.

   That night, I could think of nothing else.  I sat at my computer, my
homework staring back at me, trying to concentrate.  Almost without
realizing it, I typed "blow job" into the search bar.

   I came immediately back to reality as images - dirty, nasty, obscene
images jumped onto the screen.  In a panic, I closed the window.  But the
images were still in my mind.  I made sure my parents were downstairs, and
then I deliberately went back.  I came again and again that night, in the
blue light of the monitor, with two fingers in my vagina and two in my
mouth, captivated by the image of a woman pushing her tongue out under a
giant penis shoved more than halfway into her mouth.

   Guilt and shame washed over me immediately afterwards, but it wasn't
long before I was back.

   One evening, I saw a woman with her nose buried in the man's public
hair. At first I thought it was a small penis, but the later images
revealed the contrary.  She had somehow swallowed the whole thing.  Over
the next few months, cucumbers and pickles disappeared from our
refrigerator.  I looked at images on the internet, and tried to emulate
them, but I had a strong gag reflex.  More than one session ended with one
hand in my snatch as I choked and gagged against green phalluses purchased
in the produce aisle.

   So to get back to the main story, I had some limited experience with
deepthroating, and some strong gag reflexes.

   Will paid no regard to this fact.  When I gagged, he forced his cock in
farther.  When I really gagged and heaved, he pulled out and pushed my head
over the toilet.  Then he slapped my and continued the face-fuck.  It was
debasing and demeaning in the worst way - on my knees in a bar bathroom, my
nose in his public hair, his balls against my chin.  His eyes were closed.
I was just a fuckhole to him.  Annoyance read on his face when I gagged and
had to be slapped.  I let one hand drift down to my slopping pussy.

   After a minute or two he noticed.  The cock withdrew from my mouth, and
instead of a slap, I was hauled upright by my hair.  His other hand clamped
down across my throat, as he made me look him in the eyes.  My hand became
a blur as I climbed desperately towards orgasm before my oxygen ran out. 
Just as I approached the edge, he released my throat and ripped my hand
away from my pussy.  I moaned in disappointment.  He sneered.

   "If my slut's so horny, she can fuck this." He picked an empty beer
bottle from the top of the toilet tank and handed it to me.  I looked back
at him, and he spit into my face.

   "Fuck yourself." He commanded.  The bottle was cold against my pussy
lips, as I pushed it in.  I could feel his hand in my hair, his eyes on me
boring into head.  He shoved my head back down towards his cock.  I
squatted on the bottle, feeling cheap and whorish, like some kind of drug
junky too fixated to realize how low they've come.  Will resumed fucking my
mouth.

   When he pulled out a minute later, I thought he was going to finally
fuck me.  The bottle had warmed up and the motion of my body against it was
driving me insane.  I began to stand, but he pushed me back down, forcing
the bottle further into my vagina, the wide flange at the base of the neck
sending shivers up my spine.

   Then, out of nowhere, thick globs of jizz landed on my face.  He was
cumming on my face, forcing my head back with his hand in my hair, stroking
his dick with his other hand.

   I felt used, cheap.  Forced to blow him, and given nothing in exchange
except a load of jizz smeared across my face for all to see, like some kind
of inverse stigmata, signaling to all that I'm a slutty cunt willing to
service anyone, accepting gratefully whatever they give me.  I pictured
going out in the bar, trying to walk past my girlfriends as the cum
thickened and dried, them looking at me and whispering to each other what a
cheap whore that girl Alison is.

   "I'm not done yet, cunt." Will growled.  He was still hard, one hand
idly stroking his erection.  His cock was an angry dark red.

   "Get on your hands and knees.  And don't let that bottle out of your
dirty cunt."

   I followed his order, all thoughts of the piss-covered floor gone.  I
pushed the bottle further into my pussy as I arched my ass up towards him.
The edge of the toilet bowl was inches from my face, and the smell of urine
and vomit was strong.  I wanted him to fuck me, to use me again, to beat me
until I was forced to admit my depravity in terms no one could deny.  A
drop of cum hung from my nose of a long silky strand before dropping onto
the floor.

   "Beg."

   I begged, not knowing the words I was speaking.  I pleaded with him to
do anything he wanted, but to please give me back his cock.  He looked back
with haughty disgust - the look people give beggars who eat food out of the
trash.

   "Your pussy is too dirty.  I'm not putting my dick where that gross
bottle has been."

   I begged him to fuck my ass instead.  Without saying anything, he pushed
his cock slowly but forcefully into my ass.  It burned with nothing other
than his cum and my spit from earlier to lubricate the way.  He fucked my
ass for his pleasure, using it as he had earlier used my face with total
disregard for my comfort or pleasure.

   I felt his hand pushing my face down until I saw the yellow stains and
pubic hairs stuck to the toilet rim, the smell overwhelming.  With a single
hard shove, my head face plunged into the shockingly cold toilet water.  He
held me there until the burn in my lungs matched the burn in my asshole.

   I was transfixed by the depravity as I shuttled the bottle in my pussy
back and forth in time to the cock in my ass, gasping when he pulled my
face up and drowning when he pushed it down.  My mind exploded in brilliant
colors, intensified by the lack of air as he relentlessly fucked me,
spearing me, raping me for his pleasure.  I felt him cum into my ass, and
it pushed me into a second mind-blowing orgasm.

   When I was able to gather my wits about me, I looked up to see him.  His
hands were folded across his chest, his pants done back up, as he leaned
against the wall, as if waiting for me to finish.  His smile was smug, the
only indication that he appreciated my experience.  He handed my me black
dress, and I pulled it over my head.  As I tugged down the bottom and
adjusted my boobs, I saw movement in the corner of my eye.

   I spun as Will opened the door and walked out.  There was a line of
three guys, standing there wide-eyed.  Will tossed my red panties to the
first one in line as he walked by.  I jumped out of the bathroom and nearly
ran out of the bar.  My face was wet (although I think it had helped to
wash the cum off), and I could feel the jizz leaking from my ass as I burst
out into the street, looking for Will.

   He had disappeared.  I took a few uncertain steps down the street before
a hand reached out from an alley and grabbed me.  The figure shoved me
against the wall, knocking the air out of my lungs.  Before I could scream
or breathe, a hand was squeezing my throat and three fingers had been
jammed into my still-wet pussy.  Will's face was pressed against mine,
looking into my eyes with an intensity that was rare, even for him.  He bit
my ear, breathing hard.  Blackness began to crowd my vision and my knees
went weak as I exploded into one last mindblowing orgasm, right there in
the alley, penetrated by one hand thrust up under my dress.



   --



   I have thoughts for one more episode, but I don't want to make
guarantees.

   As always, I love to hear your thoughts, criticisms, reactions or
comments (foxbat00@gmail.com).

   Yours, Foxbat