Peyton Fucing Maxwell

I was sitting in a small exam room while a male campus doctor studied my chart.

He was looking over my negative test results that had come back from my full STD screening panel.

On the other side of the room, the girl that had been fucking my ass for the last month was staring at me with a proud, shit-eating grin.

Peyton. Fucking. Maxwell.

Here we were in my familiar exam room, where I was telling my long-time family physician that I wanted to be put on Truvada...or PREP, as it was commonly known in the world where Peyton was leading me.

"So you want go on PREP, is that correct?" The doctor confirmed with me, speaking slowly.

"I do," I said, gulping nervously. This was so strange. I was unexpectedly prickly-pear. I was submissively entranced by my life's sudden course.

"Are you sexually active with partners without protection?" The doctor asked per his oft-quoted script.

"I haven't been, yet..." I said. Peyton raised an eyebrow from her spinning stool behind the doctor. He looked back at her, and then back to me, clearly confused by the situation, if not entirely curious.

"But you plan to be?" He asked me, prodding.

"I...I do," I said with an embarrassed swallow. Peyton and I had been having lots of conversations about this. This was her biggest kink after all.

"Well you should know that PREP is 99 percent effective but not completely in the prevention of HIV. So I still recommend using protection. He said, even as he filled out a prescription pad for me to go pick up my first month's supply of pills.

"It's okay...he's only going to be fucked by recently tested cocks," Peyton said casually, as she rolled her wheeled-bench over to me and leaned up to kiss me cutely. As if she hadn't just said the lewdest thing.

The middled-aged doctor looked surprised by her statement. And I turned bright red in embarrassment, but I couldn't help it. I only cared what she thought. It didn't matter if this man knew I was going to take bareback cock up my ass. It only mattered that Peyton wanted me to. The only thing louder than my shame was my need.

I was down bad for her.

The PREP convo had started a few weeks into our torrid, lust-driven affair.

After that first night of pegging after our bar date, we hadn't really slowed down, and our kinky desires had only grown with each new ravenous moment.

I was completely seduced by her dominant obsession with my ass and my submission to her and my want for her to keep going further was my newest brain-scratching gummy candy.

We fucked constantly, and she took my ass twice as much as I took her pussy...and I was strangely okay with that. She came so much harder when she was fucking me and using a toy on herself at the same time. Or if she talked dirty into my ear about nasty things she was going to make me do, even while I fucked her.

Her biggest fantasy and want was for me to take cock.

Big. Juicy. Musky. Cock.

Veiny. Hard. Pulsing. Throbbing. Man Missiles.

PENIS SO CLEAN I'D ASK FOR IT INTRAVENOUSLY.

And I was terrified and electrified, but I wanted to keep Peyton Maxwell thrilled.

That was the game.

She was so damned sexy when she was thrilled.

Like a dog when you ask if they want to go for a walk.

Except I was the one on the leash. And It was my booty that bobbed from side to side thinking of her strap-on cock in between sessions. She had me fantasizing about bottoming for her. I was fallen.

A couple of weeks into our hijinks, she was slowly fucking me from behind as we watched a very sexy, bisexual porn on her dorm room bed. Her laptop was propped open in front of us. I was on the long part of the bed, bent over with my ass back to her, facing the porn, whimpering in my new want. She slowly slid a fat, six inch dildo into me that stuck out from her harness in godly perfection. My g spot was on overdrive.

I was moaning without even trying to moan, and loving every second of her inside me as the threesome on the screen grew dirtier and dirtier.

A third guy had entered the storyline and the hot, tattooed girl in the fishnets had begun to conduct the three sexy men into a series of very compromising positions.

She dick-tated their every move. Just as Peyton dicked me down.

"Mmmm, I love watching men fuck," she said into my ear, and I moaned with each beautiful thrust of her perfect thighs into my ass and legs. Knowing I was being fucked by such a 10 of a woman was an even hotter brain tickle. My fantasy landscape had become theme-park in size over that wild first month of our coupling. "Look at those sexy cocks he's taking." One of the boys had been nominated bottom and he sucked a cock and took one up his rump simultaneously as his sounds became gagging affairs.

"Unnnffff," I uttered back to her. God, I was so fucking turned on by this vixen. She fucked me like a man fucked. I was sure of it. It felt like she owned the dick. I loved her dick. I loved her dominance over me. She fucked me hard because she wanted to fucking use me. I couldn't get over how hot that made me feel. How much more it made me want it. The idea that someone wanted to use me like that.

"Are you gonna take big cock for me, baby?" She said in the naughtiest voice. Leading me along like the pied piper of pipe. I stroked my cock under my body as she fucked me. I was pumping blood and lust.

"Ummmffff," I whinnied even longer and higher pitched--like a bitchy little complaint of a moan, as she thudded into me with deep pounds in my sloshy buns. The sex juices were JUICY.

"You gonna let a guy with a nice...big...COCK...fuck you bare and breed you while I watch what a slut you've become for me?" She asked in her irresistibly sexy alto. "You gonna let that hot jizz fill your ass and make you the gayest little SLUT for me baby??" Her words rocked my fantasies.

I came into her bedsheets like a potato chip bag on a mountain drive.

She pushed me down onto my stomach and stayed buried in me while we watched the men on screen fuck.

"It's time for you go on PREP," She said to me simply. Without pretention. Without choice. "You need to be nice and safe and ready to take dick, whenever I want."

My brain shuddered in anticipation.

"Mmmmmmmm," I purred my consent and we fell asleep alike that.

***

A week into taking the daily pill and I was a ticking time-bomb of horny.

I had a busy class schedule that week, and for the first time ever, Peyton had stopped letting me cum.

It was much worse than that actually.

She'd been locking me up.

The night after I started taking PREP she caged me.

She'd ridden me the night before. Made me start by giving her veiny, silicone cock a blowjob. Which felt silly and also hot as fuck. Because why wouldn't I let her use all of my holes? I wanted it.

Then we'd fucked all night and I'd cum three times by early morning.

When we woke up that next day, she had a surprise for me.

She pulled the pink silicone cage out. It was a special model lined in silk, with a small pouch for the cock to coil.

I'd seen cock cages before from my years of horny all-night porn searches, but I'd never actually thought someone would be making me wear one.

I raised an eyebrow at this gorgeous golden blond minx, questioning the game.

"Okay slutty boy," she said to me with a devilish verve in her tone and a tooth little grin, "It takes the PREP one week to become effective in your body. And you are required to wear this and stay with me at night so I can ensure you don't cum until next weekend."

"Fuck me..." I said.

"Yeah sexy, that's the idea," She giggled. "You're gonna be so fucking horny by Saturday when you take your very first cock...or two. "Now go shower so we can put this on you."

I was so horny already. How would I go a week without cumming after she'd had me cumming multiple times a day for over a month? I was too young to be this Benedictine when my muse was the very fall of religion.

How on Earth, Mother Gaia ever birthed Peyton Maxwell into existence, I will never truly understand.

This girl had trapped me in the stickiest depths of her kinky webs and all I wanted was to be wrapped up and bitted and sucked dry.

That next week was terrible and some how strangely meditative.

The cage was comfortable enough with the lining, but anytime I'd get hard thinking about what was to come, my attempted hard-ons would ooze from their blockage.

I was a pregnant cow.

I was a frustrated disciple.

I was bulging and kept and slowly going crazy.

At night, we'd make out all over her apartment and watch the sluttiest porn together.

Girls and naughty boys and all the games they play.

Peyton showed me some of her favorites.

She showed me gay and bi and lesbian and sissy. She showed me men being pounded in orgies and men in bathhouses filled by so many cocks and men with their faces used like sinks at Starbucks pick-up counters...completely messy with white foam.

She even showed me men dressing up in skirts and lingerie for their Doms. Daddy porn. Femboy porn.

My manhood lurched against its prison like Handy Refrain in Cockshank Detention. I was so horny from her universe building. This was a Marvel of sex expectation ecstasy. So much better than anything DC could ever accomplish.

She was torturing me and she knew it.

I'd get to her place after my last class or workout of the day and she'd be wearing these tiny skirts and long knee socks and loosely fitting tops and blouses and t-shirts. Her outfits became ridiculously tiny and suggestive.

She'd send me texts in class while I was trying to pay attention, videos of men wearing frilly tights, sucking cock on their knees. Or of boys in panties taking dick.

She'd send me pictures of cocks and ask me to rate them from one-to-ten and then she'd make me tell her what I liked about them.

The helmet. The color. Girth. Length. Veins. Amount of cum. Color of cum. Smell of cum. She'd make me really think about what I loved about cock. And because she made me do this I just...thought about cock more. She just had me.

She'd make me say this weird, ever-changing pledge of allegiance that I now seemed to exist by.

"Are you my slutty boi?" She would text me.

"Yes I am," I'd respond blushing.

"You are what?" She'd return fire.

"A slutty boi," and I'd spell it just like her.

On the Thursday night before the impending Slutty Saturday, we both ditched our final class and went to the movies to see 'Challengers.'

She wore simple jeans and a big, comfy college sweatshirt with her hair thrown up in a lazy bun. She smelled like her Alexander McQueen and her vanilla chapstick and everything I was obsessed with.

I was similarly in jeans, t-shirt, and an un-zipped sweatshirt.

She put up the middle armrest and as the foreplay-filled tennis MMF edge-fest filled the mostly empty theater, she allowed her hand to slip below the waistline of my pants, gently fondling my aching cock in its horny Riker's Island.

"I can't wait to watch you play with boys, baby. You're gonna be such a horny gay boy for me aren't you?" She whispered into my ear as my cum leaked slowly from the plastic slit. The tennis boys on screen were kissing thanks to Zendaya's conniving, and she moaned in my ear as she teased my caged cock.

This must be how oysters felt when they're pried just enough open to steal some of their pearls.

"Yeah, baby...I wanna be such a dirty boy for you," I cooed along with her game.

I did want that. She had made my ass so horny ever since we'd started playing. The way she took me. The way she gave me prostate orgasms and objectified my ass the way I objectified hers. I was her meat.

I wanted to giver her whatever she wanted. I wanted to be the nastiest boy she'd ever been with. The way she led me was like an LA cult in the 90's. I was fully prepared to be in a documentary 30 years later for her.

I'd wear whatever she told me. Do whatever she said.

I loved every minute of it.

The movie ended and we were both incredibly horned up now.

Back at my apartment, we climbed into bed and she had me get undressed down to my cage and then she crawled up to ride my face from above.

I licked and sucked her even as my legs and crotch ground upwards in complete sexy desperation. My hands gripped her thighs to pull her pussy further into my mouth.

"So on Saturday," she started, struggling to maintain her own composure from my dedicated clit licking, "we're gonna go out to one of the gay bars downtown and go dancing...and you and I are gonna pick out your first cock."

I moaned on her pussy as my tongue played Andrew Bird whistles against her hood. She was as warm and wet as a vampire's chosen neck. Her pussy was collegiate magic. 19 year old high grade plutonium. I would've eaten her until morning if she asked me. She smelled like pralines and orange blossom...whatever the fuck that means. I was too horny to care. She was hot, glittery perfection. I just wanted to please her.

Eating her out felt like going on Soarin' for the first time.

It felt like all the dumbest metaphors in all the catchiest songs.

As she rode me, she download the grindr app on her phone and clutched my hair in her hand as she gushed another torrential orgasm onto my hungry face, finishing on her slut like she'd done so many times that past month.

Bury me like this. That's how I felt. Fucking bury me.

***

Two days later and my stomach had begun to feel how I imagine porn stars on drugs feel.

I was a level of horny that I'd never ever imagined before. But my cock had nowhere to escape and grow. I was trapped and aching. My brain felt dumb for it.

My classes that week had become a joke. All I could think of was Peyton and all the things she had told me she was going to make me do.

The nasty porn. The parade of perfect poles. The serious fidgeting of my re-tightened ass...a full week recovered from my last, prudent pegging.

I was on sexual edge.

And all of it was on purpose.

She was the maestro of my cocklust symphony and the crescendo was fast approaching.

Peyton had a morning game that I went to watch that Saturday and she was particularly emboldened to simply run over some over girls. I watched her taking great pleasure at domming some of her opponents, which never ceased to amaze people, when considering how much a girly thing she was on the outside. But fit. And hot. And the very thing most people were there to watch. Her college following had grown and I wondered how many people knew she and I were fucking.

Hot. Sexy. Fit. Blond. Competitive as fuck. Owner of my ass.

When the game was finished we headed back to her dorm to get ready. She had a whole surprise for me but I hadn't been told what it was.

When we got to her place and she'd showered and changed into a t-shirt, she told me what we were up to.

She'd booked us a big suite at a killer downtown hotel for that weekend (Using her Dad's incredibly high-limit credit card no doubt).

It was a block from the club we'd be dancing at.

It was called 'The Knotty Tent.' A bastion of young sex and and a baccANALia of good looking guys lustily seeking their next flag hole to take ownership of. You didn't go to the Knotty Tent to do Missionary Work.

The club was a weird mish-mash of circus meets sailor boy aesthetic. Known for drawing in a mix of the visiting cruise locals and off-duty harbor boys. But it was also overwhelmingly Cirque-du-so-Gay in all the most hilarious ways.

Being gay often meant being cheeky.

And that was no truer than in the outfit she'd chosen for me for our night out.

It was a sheer, pink body suit with bejeweled crystals. She had a fun, multi-colored jersey for me to wear over it which looked either like a large shirt or a subtly oversized mini-skirt. She even had a pair of white tennis shoes that looked like the brand worn by cheerleaders. Made for lots of dancing, usually at raves. And probably some winter prancing.

"We're gonna get you all dolled up tonight," she said mischievously, kissing and then sucking on my lower lip.

"I'm so fucking excited," I told her honestly.

We packed up all the stuff we'd need at her place and then swung by mine to do the same.

She pushed my PREP pill into my mouth with hers when I got back into the car. Something she'd done every day since I began the drug.

Made me take it from her mouth.

My own little, Kinky November Advent calendar.

She smiled and began driving her Jeep Wrangler into the city.

It was only an hour away and we listened to some hot, erotic fiction on Audible as we drove, her hand stroking my leg as I ached relentlessly to be freed from my cage, even as the girls voice described her two male suitors blowing their cocks for her pleasure.

I dozed off for a while in the warmth of the SUV and awoke to us pulling up at the ten story, brown-bricked, hipster hotel outpost, located just two blocks from the famed club. Even down the street you could see the level of attention the place drew. The front jutted out with a giant red and black tent design, like a whimsical theater marquee come to life.

It was 5:00 PM and the sun was already almost down. Daylight savings was no where near to save me from what I'd soon be experiencing.

We checked into the room and threw our bags down before bounding up the elevator like excited kids to the enclosed rooftop taphouse for drinks and burgers. Thank God for good fake ID's and young servers that didn't really care about 18 and 19 year old's getting drunk for better tips. Oh, to be young and horny forever.

The nervous energy between us was infectious. She was the greatest drug I'd ever taken.

We got back to the room after a solid brew and Kobe burger filled us both up and she began to set everything up the way she liked it. Sex toys lined the TV table like a an evolutionary chart of length and girth. There was a king sized bed with black and olive sheets and an adjacent jacuzzi tub from the room's bathrooms. that had a window that allowed you to see in on whoever was bathing.

Lube. Copious amounts. Lube everywhere. And restraints. And freshly unopened poppers bottles.

The bed was surrounded by two large mirrors on either side, allowing the further 360 view of any possible depravity to be enjoyed from multiple POV's. The ceiling was a glittery, green emerald color and the art in the room suggested serpentine swirls of surreptitious and snake-like behavior.

Reptilian Ragers went down here. Pure Penis Pleasure.

Dick Downs.

She told me so sit down on the edge of the bed and pull down my pants and boxers. She took a key from a necklace she'd been wearing around her neck all week, and unlocked the pink cage, removing it slowly. She'd done the same thing every night when we showered together. My messy dick fell out as she reached out to squeeze my balls firmly and stop the flow of any immediate blood release.

She kept me soft and ready. Horny and steady.

She put on music while we showered and got ourselves prepped for our adventure. She douched my ass before I bathed and trimmed my ass clean and soft and ready. I was so turned on by every touch. A fire crackle zipped through my veins.

Then she put lotion on me as we both got dressed up. She pulled out a soft, pink cock ring and snapped it around my balls to keep me from spontaneously blasting.

There were no condoms anywhere I noticed. My cock pulsed once more. The ring made me immediately hard and she laughed at that appreciatively.

Seven days on Prep. Seven days of her not allowing me to cum. Seven days in the prison of my own fantasies.

She was wearing a sexy, dark-red ringleader outfit, but the entire thing was completely see-through with her nipple covers and red lingerie showing through the sheer lace fabric.

She was so fucking hot.

She did her hair in sexy braids and continued her dark red lipstick that already matched the red nails she'd gotten done earlier that week. She had put a dark blood red glitter bow in her hair to complete the look.