faggot urinal cumdump

When I lived abroad in the UK I rented a one bedroom flat. Being the faggot that I am I immediately placed a flat share advert offering a free bedroom.

I had a fairly decent response resulting in about 8 Men coming to view the flat. All were confused about why I’d be offering a free bedroom - the only bedroom - in a nice flat, in a nice neighborhood, and wondered where I would be sleeping. I explained to all of Them that I preferred to live with Others and, if I was inviting Them to stay with me, it was only right that They should have the bedroom as They were my guest.

Most were weirded out by this and figured there were strings; however, two of the Men asked me this directly and, as a dutiful faggot, I replied that there were no strings attached and explained that I enjoyed “serving the needs of Others” and would welcome the opportunity to serve Them during Their stay.

Only one of the Men seemed to apprehend what I was intimating, and I never heard back from the other Man. But that one Man accepted the free bedroom on the spot and moved in that evening.

He was in His mid-20s and was working as a line chef at a local restaurant. He said He wasn’t making much money, had been living out of His car, and didn’t mind living with others - especially as an alternative to His car.

On that first night, as I helped Him unpack and get settled, He remarked “I’m not gay and don’t get into that kinda thing, but I’m cool with it if you’re that way…are you?”

I paused and chose my words carefully: “that’s cool. I’m definitely into Guys, but wouldn’t say I’m exactly what You’d call gay - I’m something kinda different I guess.”

He said nothing at first and kept unpacking. But then He stopped and asked, “what the fuck does that mean, mate? What are you then?”

I felt nervous and concerned this was happening so soon after His moving in, but replied truthfully: “I guess I’m what You’d call a faggot. I am submissive and inferior to Men like You - well, all Men really - and my highest purpose is to serve, worship, and obey Men. It is just my nature.”

I paused before continuing “So, that’s the real reason why You have the bedroom…it would be ridiculous and absurd for me to place my own comfort ahead of You - a Man - and while I wouldn’t ever expect or demand anything from You, if there are ways I can please You or serve Your needs, I am duty-bound to obey and will be grateful for the opportunity to do so.”

He didn’t say much at first but eventually just said, “Okay. Cool I guess. You do your thing - as long as it doesn’t affect me I cool with whatever.”

That was it for about a week.

But then I began to notice small changes in His behavior. He began to put his dirty laundry into my hamper. He stopped cleaning up after Himself. He left towels on the floor and wouldn’t flush after using the toilet.

Of course, I was more than happy to do His laundry and would placed His clean and folded clothing on His bed. I was grateful to clean up after Him, pick up His towels and replace them with fresh towels, and flush the toilet after Him.

Within two weeks of moving in He had begun to assert Himself further - telling me what to pick up for Him at the market, inviting His friends over without letting me know, and taking over the whole flat.

A week later, He told me that He’d really enjoy breakfast and a fresh cup of tea in bed in the morning; He didn’t order me to do this, but I understood and obeyed. When I delivered His breakfast the next morning she complained to me about the long hours in the kitchen, on His feet all day, and said His feet were killing Him. Of course, I offered to massage His feet and He quickly agreed.

So there I was, three weeks in, kneeling at the foot of His bed, massaging His bare feet as He munched on the breakfast I had prepared for Him. I was in faggot heaven! I was so grateful and appreciative for the opportunity to have a Man I could serve, worship, and obey, and I looked forward to my continued and future servitude.

Within a month, He had fully accepted me for what I am and had begun to address me as “fag” or “faggot” whenever addressing me. He had fully embraced His superiority and dominion over me and had no qualms commanding me as He pleased.

Then, one Monday morning, He walked into the kitchen wearing only a heavily worn tank top - stained with what looked to be dried cum and stinking of His sweat and masculine body scent - and nothing else. His dick was at half mast.

I couldn’t help myself - I was transfixed - as I hadn’t had the privilege of seeing His cock until that very moment. It was uncut, long and thick. I may have actually been drooling.

He literally poked at me and asked, “so are you any good at sucking dick?”

Indeed, I was.

He stayed at His place for another year and a half, during which time He availed Himself of my holes regularly (telling me, and eventually His friends, that it was preferable to jerking off).

And indeed, He introduced His Friends to His faggot and would regularly send me over to one of His Friends to perform my duties - whatever these might be - from housecleaning, cooking, massage, or a warm wet hole for Them to use and enjoy.

During His final months, He took particular delight in using me while watching the footie on TV - using me severally as a footrest, a beer runner, foot massager, and urinal (“come here, faggot…open your faghole, I gotta piss and I don’t want to miss the play”.)

Eventually He found a new job working at a Michelin starred restaurant in Cornwall and had to move out. Happily, He gifted me to a Buddy who promptly moved in and took His place.

As a faggot, I’m of course very grateful and happy whenever a Man chooses to relieve Himself down my throat. I love the taste of a Man’s piss and will always try to gulp down every last drop.

But on this occasion, it wasn’t just one Man. The Man I was serving had taken me to a bathhouse in Berkeley and, once there, strapped me into a mask and funnel. He guided me to the toilets and had me lay down onto the floor under a line of urinals.

The floor was soaked with piss and it felt cold as I assumed my position. Where He had positioned me meant that Men could piss into the urinals, piss on me, piss into my mouth, or any combination of these. Either way, whenever a man used the urinal, I would feel the collateral splatter and droplets of piss hitting my body.

He left me there for about 2 hours - during which I was soaked in the piss of countless Men and guzzled down the piss of at least 16 Men.

Irish twins—that’s what my mom had always called us, given that Riley and I were barely nine months apart in age. He and I used to joke that our dad must have fucked mom in the maternity ward right after Riley was born in order to have conceived me so quickly. 

As boys we were inseparable, living up to our Irish twins monicker. It didn’t help when Riley flunked second grade and we ended up being in the same class at school. Though we had our own bedrooms, it was common for us to wake up in the same bed, our bodies twisted together like a pretzel. Mom thought it was cute. Dad didn’t like it. 

The armpit game commenced in high school. We had been shooting hoops in the driveway on a hot summer day, our developing bodies exuding the heady man funk of pubescent boys. It was Riley who started it. 

“Dude—smell my armpit,” he dared me in his squawky, pubescent voice, his nose turned towards his pit, inhaling his own musk. “It smells so fucking nasty.”

Never one to turn down a dare, I went in for it, breathing in his man funk. Riley didn’t smell bad to me. On the contrary, his musky armpit smelled good. It was like an extremely intense version of Riley, that unique scent that always lingered on him, on his pillow, or on his discarded clothes. And though I couldn’t admit it to my brother, or even to myself at the time, his man funk turned me on. 

“Yeah, it’s so fucking nasty,” I lied after lingering perhaps too long, my nose buried in his armpit, resisting the desire to lick his furry patch. “You’re so fucking gross.”

“No—you’re fucking gross,” he pushed me up against the wall, his nose then at my armpit. And soon we were wrestling on the floor, our sweaty bodies pressed together until one of us called uncle and gave up the fight. 

Looking back, that’s when it started, our attraction to each other. We never talked about it, and we were certainly too scared to do anything about it. We wouldn’t even jack off in each other’s presence, like some brothers. The only exception was our armpit sniffing. In some fucked up way, it became a placeholder for the incestuous sex that we denied ourselves. 

It didn’t help when Dad caught us once on Riley’s bed, my nose buried in his armpit, breathing him in. As usual, we both had raging boners in our shorts. 

“What the fuck are you two boys doing?” our dad demanded from the doorway, a look of disgust upon his face. 

“N—nothing,” Riley stuttered, pushing me off the bed as if we had been caught with his dick in my mouth. “We were just sniffing pits.”

“It’s—it’s just a stupid game,” I tried to explain to Dad. “I was only—”

“I don’t care what the fuck it was,” Dad barked. “Boys your age don’t do that kinda shit, you understand me?”

“Yes, sir,” Riley and I replied in unison. 

I wish I could say that Riley and I continued our armpit sniffing—our innocent exploration of each other’s bodies. But Dad’s stern words had a chilling effect. He had shamed us. Instantly, a wall had been erected between us. 

It was Dad’s idea for us to apply to different colleges. He thought it wasn’t healthy for two brothers to be so enmeshed, to constantly live in each other’s shadow. “You two boys are always together,” Dad complained. “You even finish each other’s sentences, for Christ’s sake.”

That first semester, we had been apart for nearly four months when we each returned home for Thanksgiving. I almost didn’t recognize Riley. He finally looked older than me with his scruffy face and his body more muscular than ever. If I had thought my attraction to him had passed during our time apart, I was only fooling myself. Absence makes the heart grow fonder. 

We were shooting hoops in the driveway, aggressively blocking each other’s shots, eager for any excuse for our bodies to come into contact. As we played, I couldn’t help noticing the hint of chest hair that was peeking out of the scoop of his muscle shirt, in stark contrast to my own bare chest. I wanted to yank off his shirt and bury my face in his man fur. 

Mom left the house first as we continued to shoot hoops, needing some last-minute things from the grocery store before Thanksgiving. When Dad soon left for a trip to the hardware store, we quickly abandoned our basketball game. Another game, taboo and salacious, waited for us inside.

“Smell my pits,” my brother dared me moments later in his bedroom, like he had countless times before, raising his muscular arms over his head. Without pause, I went in for that hit of man funk—that sublime, heady mix of sweat and pheromones. 

But unlike all those other prior times, I didn’t just sniff Riley’s armpit. Instead, my tongue made contact with that furry patch, licking and probing his pit. 

“Fuuuck,” he exhaled, pulling off his shirt, giving me better access to his body. “That feels so fucking good.”

I licked slowly down his armpit, skirting just above his hairy pecs as I softly kissed up his neck. My lips eventually met his, Riley opening his mouth instinctively as our tongues began to dance. With our lips locked, we kissed passionately, fireworks bursting in my brain. 

“Fuck, you taste good,” Riley moaned as our lips finally parted, my mouth traveling down his neck, seeking the furry domain of his hairy chest. 

“There’s something else that I’d like to taste,” I announced, my hand rubbing his crotch as I continued to lick his furry chest, my lips moving to his nips, biting and teasing them. 

“You—you sure about this?” Riley cautioned. 

“Absolutely,” I answered. “Don’t you want this?”

“Yes—of course,” he smiled. “But what about Mom and Dad? They could come home at any minute. Dad would go ballistic.”

“Mom had a huge grocery list,” I assured him. “And have you ever known Dad to make a quick trip to the hardware store? He’ll be there at least an hour.”

“Okay,” my brother acquiesced as I returned my attention to his furry chest, giving it a thorough tongue bath.

Licking my way down south past his navel, I followed his treasure trail to my ultimate reward—his big dick. Kneeling down like a supplicant before Riley, I lowered his athletic shorts, his eight-incher smacking me in the face. His big dick was a lot like mine, though slightly thicker. And his furry balls looked to have more heft than mine. I was eager to drain them.

“Fuuuuuck,” my brother exhaled, his head tipping back in ecstasy as I took his big dick down my throat. I nearly gagged getting the entire length of his big one down my throat, but I succeeded admirably, his balls mashed against my chin. 

Riley moved his hands to the back of my head as I worked his cock rhythmically, his big dick gliding back and forth past my tight lips, his cock head ramming my tonsils over and over again. I was trying not to go too fast, to allow him to enjoy the ride, but I was also eager to taste his load. Riley had other plans.

“Can I fuck you?” he asked softly, extracting his dick from my throat suddenly, saliva stringing between my lips and his helmeted cock head. “I’ve jacked off thinking about fucking you every night since we left for school. I want it so bad.”

“But have you ever—?” I began to ask.

“No—not yet. You?”

“No,” I answered bashfully. “I think I’ve always been saving myself for you.”

“Same,” Riley smiled broadly. “I want nothing more than for you to be my first.”

Pulling off my shorts, I positioned myself flat on my back on the edge of Riley’s bed. Bringing my knees to my chest, I presented my virgin hole to my brother. 

“Fuck, that’s hot,” Riley marveled, spitting on my hole and working his thick finger into me. “It’s so fucking warm.”

Slowly, deliberately, Riley worked my hole with one and then two fingers, opening me up for him. Jesus, it felt good. I couldn’t imagine how much better his cock would feel. The wait wouldn’t be long.

“I’ll go slow,” Riley promised, gripping his big cock in one fist, pushing his helmeted head up against the pink, puckered folds of my wet sphincter. “You feel that?” he asked, his cock head stretching me, a flash of pain consuming me.

“Yeah,” I gritted my teeth, gripping his forearms. “Just push it all the way in—I think that might be better.”

“You sure?” 

“Yes,” I begged. “Just push in a little more and—HOLY FUCK,” I screamed as Riley went balls deep in me, his thick shaft stretching my virgin hole. 

“Sorry—too much?” he held still inside me.

“No—it’s good,” I assured him. “Just gimme a second to adjust. You’re thick as fuck.”

“Jesus, you’re tight,” Riley exclaimed. “I already feel like I’m gonna cum.”

“No—not yet,” I begged. “Try to hold back.”

“I’m trying,” Riley bit his lip, looking down at his cock buried in me. “I’m gonna start slow, okay?”

Pushing his hands into my thighs, Riley raised my ass and began to deliver some slow, steady strokes. Christ, it felt good. The pain had subsided, and I was reveling in the feeling of fullness inside of me, my brother’s big cock finally up my ass.

“You can go faster, if you want,” I assured him. “I’m feeling good now—you can pound me harder.”

“I’m trying so hard not to bust,” Riley replied, picking up the pace, his balls smacking my ass with each thrust. “I just don’t want the ride to end so fast.”

“Dude,” I chuckled. “You can always fuck me again later. Now that we’ve opened that box, there’s no going back.”

“You’re right,” he laughed at himself. “I’m going to want to fuck your tight hole, like, all the time.”

“I’m game for that,” I winked up at him, wrapping my legs around his meaty ass, pulling him further into me. “You still feeling close?”

“Yeah,” Riley responded through gritted teeth, desperately trying to hold back his nut.

“Dude—go ahead and bust in me,” I gave him permission, his cock working deep inside me. “Fucking breed my ass.”

“I’m still trying to hold out,” he began to reply before his cock started to throb in my depths. “OH FUCK—here it comes—OH FUCK—SHIT.”

I turned my head as Riley unloaded in me, virgins no more, his warm load spewing in my depths, his body quaking in release as he grunted out his nut over and over again. Despite my elation at being bred by my studly brother, something just outside his bedroom door had caught my attention. 

My eyes soon focused on Dad lurking in the darkened hallway, watching us. Dad’s pants were undone, his meaty fist slowly working his big cock as he shot his thick load into his left hand. By the time Riley had finished unloading in me, his sweaty body collapsing upon me, Dad had disappeared.