Trigger warning: Although all characters are 18 or older, one doesn't exactly have the capacity to consent to sex, and he is pretty degraded in this story. If that is triggering to you, please don't read any further.
San Francisco 2049
He doesn't say a word as he unzips. Some nights he makes small talk, but not tonight. He just walks into my bedroom and whips out his dick. He catches my eye, and half-grins at me, as if to say, "I got something you want, faggot." Sometimes I want to punch his smug lights out.
I have to admit he is a good-looking dude. He's probably in his mid-thirties. Wife and 2 kids. 6 feet tall. Dark hair, dark eyes, an unkept beard, chest hair, and a little bit of a belly where there clearly used to be a six-pack. He's built, but chubby. He's not talking right now, but trust me, he has a deep, sexy voice. Any woman or gay man in the world would desire him, damn it.
And here I am, his suck slave, hating the man as he waves his semi-hard dick at me and motions for me to come over.
I'm like his little treat. Some people have an ice cream cone or a coffee or a cigarette after work. He gets a blowjob. And it's the fact that he feels so damn entitled to it that makes me most angry.
What am I supposed to do? Say no? It's either suck his dick or suck no dick at all. So I suck his dick.
I take him into my mouth slowly, savoring the moment. Ugh, why do I treat him like he's my lover? He is definitely not my lover. I despise this man and everything he represents.
His crotch smells good. I detect a little bit of sweat, but it's not unpleasant. I can't help but inhale his maleness, and it causes me to start getting hard. Damn it, I hate it when I get hard with him...
I slowly suck him for a minute or two, just bobbing my head, taking his whole length to the back of my throat. He is always so fucking hard. I bet he's proud of that. Even though I detest him with every fiber of my being, I love the way his hard shaft feels in my mouth and I suck it in earnest with my lips. I'm in such desperate and unconscious need of his masculinity that my zeal for his cock is involuntary.
He takes his shirt off and throws it onto my bed. I run my hands up and feel his manly body. Even though I hate this son of a bitch, after a long day of work, it feels good to touch a man's hairy body and feel his strong chest.
I tell myself stories about him, as if I can ascertain details about his life's history and his personality just from the contours of his hot hard dick. I have soft pillowy lips, and they eagerly embrace every inch of his circumcised shaft and beautiful light pink mushroom head. The word I use for his dick in my mind is "supreme," and it really is, in every way. It's probably the most delicious dick I've ever tasted, and I enjoy sucking it.
He grunts with pleasure and I start to whimper. Fuck, I hate myself for it.
What he doesn't know is that I've had a video camera running from the second he walked into the room. If I really wanted to, I could show his wife. I could show the whole town. And they'd know what a hypocrite he is.
He places his hands on my head, so he can start facefucking me. Sometimes he says degrading comments and calls me "faggot". Sometimes he says endearing things and calls me "sweetheart." I hate to admit that it turns me on so much when he does both of these things. But tonight he's clearly not in the mood to talk and just fucks my mouth with no words spoken. I am turned on by his strong, manly, determined, intentional grip. I love the way the skin on his hands feels kind of rough. I hate that his touch is so arousing to me.
I'm firmly grabbing his ass with both hands to balance myself and it feels so incredible. I hear the way my lips are smacking on his big fat dick as the noise echoes throughout the room. I briefly make eye contact with my reflection in the mirror behind him, and I'm shocked by the look on my face. I look like I'm in ecstasy. If you walked into the room, you'd think that I was the one getting pleasure, not him. It kinda makes me sick to know that whenever he looks down at me, this is the view he's getting. I need to get a hold of myself. I deserve better than this. I try to change my facial expression to something other than "sublimely happy", but he glances down and notices as I do this, and it inspires him to speed up his facefucking, so I have to forget about the expression on my face and focus on sucking his dick.
I wonder if he knows that I know who he is. He must know that I know, right? I've known since the first time that I sucked his dick. I never would have sucked him off that night if I could've known the sick game he'd turn it into. Why did I suck him off in the first place when I knew that he was that homophobic state senator, Jason Tisdale? And not just a homophobic state senator, but the one who spoke most vociferously in support of the anti-gay laws that ruined my life and the lives of all my friends? I saw him on the news talking about how traditional families were under attack and society was crumbling, and he blamed it all on the gays. Before we could even blink an eye, gay sex was illegal. And yet, I still gave him a blowjob that first night in a dark alley when he propositioned me. The time to stop this madness was then. It is too late now...
So why exactly does he do this? Believe me, I've asked myself hundreds of times. I have no way of knowing. We never ever talk about anything of substance, and certainly not his personal life. So I'm left to wonder: what the fuck is he doing here almost every night making me, a gay dude, suck his dick? Does he get some kind of sexual thrill from the risk of it? Does he get turned on by the power dynamic, knowing that I cannot say no to him, knowing that I will never get any reciprocation and that pleasing him is the only sexual experience I will ever get to have for the rest of my life? Or is this just to prove some kind of point to himself about gay men, that we are so perverted that you can literally ruin our lives and take every single thing we have, and we'll still happily suck your dick and dutifully swallow up your cum for you?
He usually cums pretty quickly, within 4 or 5 minutes, and tonight is no different. Not too long after he takes control and starts face fucking me with his hands, he's at the point of no return and ready to shoot.
I know it's coming, and I am determined. I'm on my knees servicing this man and I swear that this is the last time. I need to have some self-respect. I can't allow him to degrade me like this and treat me like his personal fleshlight. I can't let him go out and talk about how awful and perverted gay sex is while he comes to my house 5 or 6 nights a week to get his dick sucked. I can't stand one more moment of this man. I hate him. I'm going to put out the video. Screw the consequences. I don't care anymore. Whatever happens to me, I will get justice, both for myself and for all the other gay men that this douchebag and his political allies screwed over.
This man cost me my husband. Did I mention that I used to be married before society went to shit? I loved my husband. My wonderful Rick. The man who saved me. We owned a flower shop together. We made each other smile every day. We had to have our marriage annulled when they passed the new laws, and I haven't seen him in 2 years. I try to keep track of him over social media, but I don't dare contact him. I wouldn't want to risk my life or his, and I know internet communications are monitored. I just hope he's happy.
This man cost me my friends. My sweet Christopher, who I knew since college and who was my partner in crime at the gay bars in our 20s. He was always a rebel, and he thought he'd resist the new laws. They weren't in effect a month before they executed him by firing squad. And Matthias, the eldergay, my rock, the man who gave me so much wonderful advice and helped me when nobody else understood. He just "disappeared'' one day. And I wasn't even allowed to ask why, or where he was sent off to, or have a funeral for him, or get any kind of closure. He was just gone, and I had to accept it. They're both
dead
because of this bastard.
