What do I do?
I couldn’t stand another day working at Wendy’s with my tyrant boss, my toxic coworkers, and the disrespectful customers, so I quit. If I had to work another day there, I would’ve went insane.
I’d been living with my parents, but they refused to continue letting me live with them if I didn’t have a job, so they kicked me out. Knowing I have no job no income and kicking me out anyway, what sense does that make? It just proved to me that the world is cold and no one is coming to save you.
I sat on a park bench in the shade because it was scorching in Texas, with everything I owned in a measly suitcase next to me and desperately tried to find a place to stay. Most of my friends were in the same position I was and didn’t have a place for me to stay. So I looked on Craigslist for a room share. I didn’t even look at the titles of the listings and just started spamming those with a room begging for a place to stay, and explaining that I didn’t have money but could clean or pay once I got a job.
After messaging dozens of hosts, I finally got a response.
“I have a couch you can sleep on in my house which comes with all the amenities you’d need. I usually charge $200 a month for it, but since you don’t have money to pay, I’ll let you stay for free on one condition: You have to be my bottom slave. Take my dick whenever and wherever I want to give it to you, no objections. If interested, you can move in tonight. Final offer.”
What the hell? I stared at the message with disgust. People are crazy. Thankfully, I wasn’t that desperate. Yet. I shuddered at the thought of having no other choice but that one. I still had a few more friends to ask and more people to message before I even considered that.
Night had fallen and I was still sitting on that bench searching for a place to stay. My stomach was growling, and my clothes were stained with sweat. I’d exhausted all my calls to friends who either didn’t have a place to stay, were living with their parents, with their girlfriends, or were sleeping on couches themselves. No one on Craigslist I’d messaged were interested in letting me stay for free and even less interested in my pathetic pleas to clean or pay them once I got a job.
The only real prospect I had was Derrick, the guy who wanted me to be his bottom slave. I definitely wasn’t gay so the thought of accepting his proposition earlier in the day when I still had hope was absolutely appalling. But now that my best option was to consider sleeping on this bench in the summer heat, without eating all day, and risking all my possessions getting stolen, a couch in an air conditioned house didn’t seem that bad. I tried not to even think about what I’d have to do for it.
“Would this offer include food? I haven’t eaten all day,” I messaged him back out of curiosity. This didn’t mean I was doing it, I just had to really weigh my options.
A few minutes later, he replied, “My pantry and fridge are stocked with food, and I cook every night. I have my signature spaghetti and meatballs on the stove right now.”
My mouth watered at the thought of a warm meal. I was starving. But wait, I would have to take his dick, what was I thinking? Why was I even considering that? I laid down on the bench and stared at the stars as I imagined what it would be like to sleep here for the night.
Just as I was getting comfortable, a man in raggedy clothes and several missing teeth nudged me in the shoulder. “Hey boy, this bench is where I sleep at.”
I shot up, wide awake, “Oh sorry okay,” I said and frantically grabbed my stuff. The guy looked malnourished and skinny; I was sure I could take him if it really came to it, but it wasn’t worth it. I don’t know what weapon he had or who he knew, and I wasn’t so desperate as to fight over a bench anyway.
I grabbed my things and started walking away.
He reached out a filthy hand to stop me, “I mean you can still sleep on it if you let me sleep on top of you. Although I wouldn’t be doing much sleeping, and you wouldn’t either,” he chuckled and began pelvic thrusting the air. “I’d have you moaning all night,” he made a face like he was moaning.
I shook my head and walked away faster. So far, I had two offers for places to stay and both wanted to sodomize me.
I walked for an hour, trying to find another bench or relatively comfy sleeping spot. I walked past homeless tents, groups of scary men on street corners eyeing me down, cars driving slowly by. I was exhausted, starving, and scared for my life.
At midnight, I finally broke.
“Hey Derrick, I’m willing to stay at your place. But I don’t have a car, can you pick me up?”
He replied less than a minute later, “Do you accept the terms? The terms begin night one.”
I gulped and my fingers shook as I typed my response, “Yes.”
“Ok I’m on my way now, send your location.”
I sent my location and sat on the curb in silence while my decision sank in. I had about 5 min before he got here to back out.
5 min later he pulled up, and I still hadn’t thought of any other option.
“Mark?”
“Yes,” I replied, relieved he was here and regretful at the same time.
“Hop in.”
He seemed like a normal guy. We had a decent conversation and even made each other laugh a few times. He didn’t mention anything about his conditions for me staying and with as good of a conversation we had I almost forgot.
When we got to his house, I became wary again, but he dispelled my anxieties as he helped me move in and started warming up my food. By the time he’d served dinner I was completely at ease and relaxed. Maybe this won’t be as bad as I thought.
He served me my spaghetti and sat in front of me, watching me with fascination as I chowed down on the spaghetti. I don’t know if it was because I hadn’t eaten all day, but it was delicious. Within minutes, I’d cleaned my plate.
“Would you like seconds?” He asked with an impressed laugh.
“Yes please,” I responded gratefully, wiping my mouth of spaghetti sauce.
He spooned another pile of spaghetti on my plate and served it to me with the steam still rising off of it.
Just as I was about to dig in for seconds, he asked me a question.
“Aren’t you wondering where the meatballs are?” He said with a grin.
“Oh yeah,” I laughed, “the food was so good I forgot. Do you have any left?”
“Yes of course, the meatballs are the best part.”
“Oh really? Then great, I’ll have some meatballs.”
He continued grinning as he stood up. He unbuckled his pants, pulled them down, and revealed his dick and balls.
I couldn’t breathe as I processed what was happening.
He walked over and plopped his ballsack onto my spaghetti.
“Ooh nice and hot,” he said wincing from the heat. “My signature meatballs, bon a petite,” he said peering down at me with a smile.
The blood had left my face as I tried to decide what to do. I hadn’t expected this, especially so soon.
“Go on. Eat. You were so hungry a minute ago, don’t tell me you’re full now. Trust me, my meatballs are the tastiest part.”
He saw me hesitating, so he ran his hand through my hair, “Don’t forget, if you want to sleep here in the A/C and continue being fed, you gotta be my bottom slave. Or you can go back to the street, I saw some nice homeless men on the way here that would probably love it if you slept with them.
I trembled at the thought of going back on the street. I was ready to be homeless.
I took a deep breath then continued eating my spaghetti like normal, trying to avoid the dick in balls on the plate. He saw I was eating around them, so he decided to feed them to me.
He grabbed his spaghetti sauce covered testicles and brought them toward me, “Open wide,” he crooned.
I closed my eyes and timidly opened my mouth. When the spaghetti sauce hit my tongue, I tried to imagine them being actual meatballs. But once I’d sucked the spaghetti sauce off, there was no pretending that there wasn’t a wrinkly scrotum in my mouth.
“Suck them clean,” he demanded, “I don’t want any spaghetti sauce in my bed tonight.” I sucked harder and grimaced at their unfamiliar texture.
Next, he rolled his penis in the spaghetti, covering it with noodles and sauce and stuck it in my mouth. At first, it tasted like spaghetti, but soon the sauce taste wore off and the realization that I had a penis in my mouth was enough to make me choke. As if reading my mind, he grabbed the back of my head and jammed his penis deep down my esophagus until his pubic hair was running into my nostrils. I had no choice but to breathe in the stench of his dank pubes.
When he finally pulled out, I was choking up red spit. Which looked alarming but was only spaghetti colored saliva.
“I still see some spaghetti sauce on my dick. I told you; I don’t want any spaghetti sauce on my sheets tonight. Lick it clean.”
I swallowed his dick and sucked it as clean as I could, licking the parts I couldn’t reach to avoid having to deepthroat his cock again. When Derrick determined that his dick was clean enough, he took my hand and led me to the couch where I’d be sleeping.
Was that it? Don’t get me wrong, it was humiliating to suck another man’s dick and balls with spaghetti sauce on them, but it could’ve been worse.
He laid me on top of the couch and ordered me to take off my pants. My heart sank as I realized it may be getting worse. He walked away as I undressed and left me with my bare ass in the air. Seconds later, he came back with a spoon of spaghetti sauce and spread it on my asshole. I didn’t know how to feel; I never thought I’d have spaghetti sauce on my asshole. The warm liquid seeped into my hole and dripped along my cheeks.
But before it could drip onto the couch, Derrick caught the droplets with his tongue and proceeded to lick my anus up and down. Once he cleaned the exterior, he stuck his tongue in my anus to clean the interior. I let out an uncontrollable moan that surprised me. I’d never felt a tongue in my ass, but the sensation was oddly satisfying. He stuffed his tongue what felt like several inches inside of my ass, surely cleaning up any traces of spaghetti sauce.
When he felt he’d licked all the sauce, he stood up and smacked his penis against my ass. The smack echoed and sent shockwaves through my body.
“It seems I also forgot to give you your breadstick. Would you like a breadstick?” he taunted behind me as he oiled up his shaft.
I froze, quivering with fear.
He didn’t like that. He spanked my ass to which I yelped.
“Tell me you’d like a breadstick!” He demanded angrily.
“I would like a breadstick!” I squealed in terror.
“Sir!”
“I would like a breadstick, sir!”
Before I even finished the word “sir,” he lodged his dick into my ass ruthlessly.
I screeched in pain. But he only spanked my ass in irritation and thrusted harder. Tears ran down my face as he shoved his cock deeper and deeper inside my ass without mercy. When his dick finally reached the deepest it could go, was panting in relief trying to catch my breath from all the screaming.
He laid over my back and whispered, “We got the best breadsticks in town. You want some more?”
I held back tears as I whimpered, “Yes sir.”
“What was that?” he said, leaning back and pulling out.
“Yes sir!” I mustered louder.
“Another round coming right up!” This time, he thrusted his dick all the way into my ass then all the way out to the tip, so that I felt the full size of his dick and repeated the process with increasing force. He even gripped my cheeks hard to spread them wider so he could go deeper. With each thrust, it felt like his dick was going to pierce open my stomach full of spaghetti.
“You like my breadstick?” He shouted between aggressive pumps.
“Yes!” I moaned after each thrust as if the more, I screamed the less it’d hurt.
He grabbed my hands for leverage and started pounding my ass rapid fire. My moans vibrated with each thrust, but the claps of my cheeks rang louder. He seemed to be poking a magical spot because my dick somehow got hard and started dripping with precum. He noticed and began stroking my cock while he plunged his cock in my ass.
“I told you our breadsticks were good.” He smirked.
I bit my lip in frustration.
Finally, he got tired and slowed down. I gasped for breath as he gave a few more tired pumps into my ass.
“Are you ready for dessert?” he said wearily.
I didn’t know what dessert was, but I knew my line. “Yes sir!”
“Good boy,” he said and flipped me over.
He straddled himself on top of me and stroked his cock over his face as the realization of what dessert was dawned on me.
“Today’s dessert special is ice cream. Hope you like it!”
He slipped his cock in my mouth and groaned as he ejaculated down my throat. It was a powerful and unpredictable stream as some of it squirted onto my face and some on the couch.
I swallowed my dessert and also tried to swallow what just happened.
He gave an accomplished sigh and walked away to the kitchen table.
“Do you want anymore spaghetti?” He asked from the kitchen.
“No thank you, I replied politely.
“Ok, I’m going to bed. Clean up the kitchen. And I’m going to keep my door open, sometimes I get urges in the middle of the night,” he said, smirking at me and biting his lip.
“Okay,” I whimpered, just glad it was over for now and I had a safe place to sleep. Although maybe not clean, the couch was wet with unknown liquids. I sighed; it could be worse.
