There have been at least four half-started versions of this story during this blog’s 4.5-year history. Every time I would start it, I’d feel panic and stop. But, for the sake of transparency, I finally got it done. Enjoy my shame!

For a time when I was 27 I had no Owner. So, of course, I was out prowling the night and sucking dick pretty regularly. One Friday evening I met a local Alpha named Carlo (not his real name). Carlo was 21 years old and gorgeous. He looked A LOT like this pretty famous amateur porn star that I’m sure most of my readers have seen at one point or another:

Needless to say, I was pretty excited to serve this guy. Sadly, we couldn’t get together that night, so he invited me over the next day after he got off work. 

I arrived on time at the condo address (he was renting it). He opened the door wearing a black Addidas tee-shirt, basketball shorts, and some red Converse shoes. 

“Come in,” he said flatly. I looked up at him. His dark eyes were unsympathetic, predatorial. He looked like a hungry human shark. I followed his command and entered. The condo was a split level unit. The lower level had no furniture in it. There were beer cans and trash scattered here and there around the place.

He saw me surveying the damage. “Had a party last night since it’s my last weekend,” he said dismissively. “Wanna beer?”

He handed me a Budweiser and we sat together on the brick fireplace. Mostly mindless “getting to know you” chit-chat. I couldn’t take my eyes off of his feet.

“What size shoe do you wear, Sir?” I asked tentatively. 

He smiled. “Size twelve.” 

“Wow,” I replied breathlessly, not even trying to disguise my lust.

“You like that?” he asked. I nodded. “Take my shoes off.”

I practically fell on my face stumbling to my knees at his feet. The shoes were barely tied, so I slipped them off one at a time. No socks – beautiful. His feet were big and wide and suckable. I followed my natural instinct and leaned down to kiss them. Carlo chuckled nervously.

While I was lost in worship, I heard the rustling of fabric. I looked up to see Carlo discarding his shirt, exposing his nicely-built chest decorated with several tattoos. They looked beautiful on the light-brown sugar of his skin.

He glared down at me. “I want you to suck my dick.” With that, he pulled his shorts down, allowing a large brown cock to flop out. I scrambled up to meet it, hungrily sucking it into my mouth. It was already pretty hard, but it stiffened to full power almost instantly as I sucked the fat head.

“Yeah, you faggots like that,” he growled. I was not his first. I mumbled affirmatively while taking more of his meat down my throat. He wrapped a hand around the back of my head and gently pushed my head onto it. 

Let me tell you, he smelled amazing. I don’t think he had showered from the previous night, and he had that sweaty musk emanating from his crotch. At the first chance, I went and began licking his round, swollen balls in order to inhale that scent more deeply.

Then Carlo surprised me. “I want to fuck you.”

I bolted upright. Like a stupid faggot, I hadn’t prepped prior to meeting up. I thought I might suck this Latino god and nothing more. In addition, my digestive system wasn’t exactly cooperating. I began begging off his plan to fuck me, but he only became more insistent.

Finally, he had enough. “Faggot, take off your clothes,” he ordered firmly. Game over.

I took off my clothes glumly like I was preparing for the gas chamber and tossed them onto the fireplace. Then Carlo took me by the arm and led me upstairs to the bedroom.

Unlike the lower level, the bedroom still had most of its furniture intact. Carlo placed a hand on my back and pushed me face-first onto the bed. I remained still, breathing heavily out of fear of what could happen. I heard him pump lube and slather it on his cock. Then he swiped some over my hole.

Carlos placed his hands firmly on my hips and yanked me toward him so that my ass was draped over the edge of the bed. I lifted my ass to meet him. Then I felt him push his cock in slowly, the lips of my ass stretching around it. 

He began to fuck me hard. I could hear him grunting with almost every thrust. It felt amazing, truly, but I was distracted. I was feeling something churning in my bowels.

The pressure and pushing were becoming too obvious to ignore. I began to crawl forward away from him, but Carlo grabbed me and held me in place. He was getting close.

Then it happened. I felt a wetness on my legs. Then light splattering. I WAS SHITTING ON THIS ALPHA! Incredibly, Carlo was undeterred. He kept pounding my ass, each thrust accompanied by a wet thwap! My mind went elsewhere. Like any moment of trauma, the only defense is to divorce yourself from what is happening with your body.

Carlo finally stopped and pulled out. I slowly turned around. Carlo was panting and sweaty, his cock and lower torso covered with my diarrhea. The smell was beyond description. 

“I … I’m so sorry Sir …” I whispered. 

“I’m going to take a shower,” said Carlo in a no-nonsense tone, “clean yourself up in the bathroom downstairs.”

I turned toward the bedroom door. “And don’t leave,” he added.

I stumbled down the stairs in a daze. I went into the small downstairs bathroom and looked at myself in the mirror. I felt like crying. I solemnly cleaned myself as best as I could.

I went into the living room and quickly dressed. I could hear Carlo finishing his shower. I was tempted to leave, but I obeyed his order to stay.

Eventually, Carlo came downstairs in just a towel. “I thought you might leave,” he said, almost smirking. My eyes were cast downward. “No, Sir, you told me to stay.”

We talked idly for a few minutes as I slowly slunk toward the door. Then, as I was leaving, he said, “I’ll call you.” I nodded and left.

I didn’t think he would ever call me again, but he did! I never answered any of the calls or returned them. I just couldn’t face him after that. 

Is there a lesson that can come from this awful story? Maybe a couple:

1. Always be prepared when meeting with an Alpha. 

2. Never judge the sexual interests of a Man. You never know what he might like or want.

3. Shit happens.

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