STEAM ROOM DISASTER. PART 2

continued from part 1……………

His thick bell was suddenly pressing against my bottom lip. This was so fucking wrong, but the sensations of utter weakness and surrender were overtaking my normal brain function. I was in deep shit here.

I managed one last look up at the faggot. He was smiling down at me, hands now poised on his hips, the king of this world. He was not helping me, or forcing me, or doing anything to me. He was just posing, wondering what I would do next. As if he had guided me to this crucial juncture in my life, and was waiting to see what choice I would make.

It was me doing this, I realized. Me, the straightest dude on the planet, with my bottom lip pressing against a faggot’s cock head. My free will, my decision, my desire, my choice. But not my choice, because of the chemical. Because of the booze. Because I was not a worthless, cock sucking faggot.

My tongue joined the conspiracy against me. It snaked out of my mouth and lapped at his knob, only for a second. My tongue felt swollen and heavy and stupid and ponderous, as I did.

And with that simple little action, I fell fully into his world. As if my brain threw in the towel and said ‘go with the flow’. I pulled the faggot forward another inch, just enough to spread my mouth over his thick bell. I began to eat the first and last cock of my life. I tasted heat, musk and fullness. I tasted a hint of pre-cum. Thank Christ I was far, far from home.