Fun Times With Men 😎

He should've been panicking upon seeing you walked in on him in the middle of your very own girlfriend giving him a blowjob. But instead, he just acknowledge your presence and keep on going, pummelling his slick meaty uncut cock all the way down on her throat.

From the way she bobbed her head and the obscene noise she made, she's giving him one hell of a good head and as you stared there in silence as if you're set in stone, he smirked as he noticed the growing bulge on your pants

"Fucking cuck, I knew it," he said as his groan turned to smirk and his grip strengthened as it grabbed both of her ears and used it like it's a silicone toy or the likes of it

The cabin lights had been dimmed for hours, turning the overnight flight into a hazy, half-asleep cocoon. I sat wedged in the window seat next to him — this cocky, muscular college jock in a tight black tank top and backward cap, arms thick and hairy, pits glistening with sweat. My husband was three rows back, happily snoring in his middle seat, still glowing from our wedding two days ago. I’d promised myself this honeymoon would be different. Faithful. Normal.

But then the jock stretched, arms locked behind his head, and the wave hit me: raw, rank, masculine musk rolling off his sweaty body like heat from an engine. My stomach twisted in horror. *God, he reeks. How does someone smell that strong after hours in recycled air?* I tried to focus on my phone, cheeks burning, but my eyes kept drifting — over the dark hair matted across his broad chest, the way his tank clung to his damp skin, the lazy, arrogant smirk when he caught me looking.

He didn’t say anything at first. Just flexed a little, letting more of that thick, sour scent fill the space between us. My cock betrayed me before my brain did, twitching hard in my pants. I hated it. I was married. Newly married. This was disgusting.

Yet twenty minutes later, when the plane hit a quiet stretch and most lights were out, he shifted closer. His big thigh pressed against mine. “You’ve been staring, fag,” he whispered, voice low and cocky. “Bet that ring on your finger feels real tight right now.”

I opened my mouth to deny it, but nothing came out. His scent was overwhelming now — salty, musky, unwashed jock funk that made my head spin. He casually lifted one arm, resting it behind his head again, and the pit stench washed over me stronger. My resistance crumbled like wet paper.

Slowly, shamefully, I leaned in. My heart hammered as I buried my face against his sweaty side, inhaling like a desperate animal. He chuckled quietly. “That’s it. Sniff your new owner.”

My hands trembled as I pulled his waistband down just enough. His thick, heavy cock sprang out, already half-hard and smelling even stronger — pure rank alpha dick. I hesitated one last second, thinking of my husband sleeping just rows away… then I opened my mouth and took him in.

He was thick, salty, and still sweaty from the flight. I gagged quietly as he grew fully hard down my throat, but I didn’t stop. I sucked him like a pathetic, skinny married slut, head bobbing low in his lap while he kept his arms casually behind his head, pretending to sleep. Every few seconds he’d push my head down further, forcing my nose into his sweaty pubes.

“You’re such a disgusting little faggot,” he breathed, barely audible. “Honeymooning with your husband and choking on college cock ten thousand feet up. Keep going, dumpster.”

Tears pricked my eyes from the shame and the stretch, but my own dick was leaking in my pants. The horror had melted into pure, humiliating need. I wanted to be his seat-side cumrag. His rank, sweaty alpha toilet.

When he finally came, it was thick and bitter, flooding my mouth in heavy ropes. I swallowed every drop like the broken married bitch I’d become, licking him clean while his musk soaked into my skin and clothes.

He patted my flushed cheek condescendingly, zipped up, and went back to relaxing like nothing happened.

I sat there the rest of the flight, lips swollen, throat coated in his load, the taste and smell of him lingering as I stared at my wedding ring. My husband would never know… but I already belonged to this sweaty, domineering jock now.

And the worst part? I couldn’t wait for him to use me again. As me and my husband strolled to the town for some night out two days after we arrived from the flight, I realized the jock is in the table behind us already looking at me with his predatorial smirk, a girl seated in front of him clearly as unaware as my husband about this dynamic and how I've been monitored like a prey......

I lounged back on my bed at first, arms spread wide in my Ole Miss hoodie, smirking down at the pathetic liberal faggot kneeling on my floor. This shit is too easy — and way too fun.

“Look at you, already shaking on your knees in a real man’s room,” I drawled, voice low and cocky. “What a fucking joke. Bet you’ve been dreaming about this since you first saw me around campus. A big, dumb, muscular Rebel like me owning your weak liberal ass.”

I stand up, peeled the hoodie off slowly, flexing my thick arms and chest just to watch his eyes bulge. Then I turned, giving him the full view of my tattooed back and tight ass while pretending to rummage in the closet. I can feel his stare burning into me. Hilarious. I casually turned my head and flashed my signature smirk. The faggot's flinched, he's obviously staring at my ass

I spin back around, shirtless and pumped, and casually lifted my leg, planting my big white-socked foot right in his face. The sole pressed against his nose and lips. I flexed my thick thigh and grinned.

“Go on, bitch. Sniff it. Worship a straight alpha’s sweaty foot like the desperate faggot you are. This is what you live for, isn’t it? Getting verbally destroyed by superior conservative muscle while your kind loses every election and every argument.”

I pressed my sock harder against his mouth, sneering with mock disgust even as I laughed internally.

“Yeah, that’s it. Lick it, loser. Bury your face in my foot while I tell you the truth: you’re nothing but a sniveling, cum-hungry liberal queer who exists to serve real men like me. My cock’s not even getting hard. Stays completely soft because you’re that fucking repulsive. But you? You’re about to ruin your pants just from this.”

I watched him break — whimpering, grinding his face into my sock, body trembling. A dark, wet spot started spreading in his crotch as thick ropes of cum pumped uselessly into his underwear. Hands-free. Pathetic.

I keep my foot planted on his face, laughing coldly as he squirt through the last spurts.

“Fucking disgusting. Look at you creaming yourself like a broken toy while my dick doesn’t even twitch. Get the fuck out of my room, you worthless little—”

And then the mask slipped, just for a second.

In the back of this meat mind, the real me — scrawny, pale, hateful, "dork" as this dumb jock put it, who’d spent years seething in silence — grinned with pure satisfaction. This dumb, muscular meat puppet had been so easy to possess while he slept after practice.

Big, empty-headed conservative himbo body, perfect vessel. Nobody suspected a thing.

I’d always hated Alby and his kind of particular coastal liberal nerd. The smug, little activist prick who thought he's better than everyone and who acted like he represented everyone that looked like him. Well, fuck him and his kind, that's why I took this sleeping hunk’s body and turned it into my personal humiliation puppet to taught these city pricks not to mess around and stop espousing their belief like it's some sort of Biblical wisdom everybody have to follow. Plus, he's my biggest competitor for Rhodes, so of course I need to ensure he's not gonna threaten my standings. A degrading video like this would certainly steer away any scholarship committee and I'll make sure to dangle it everytime he's trying to act out of line. Every degrading word, every flex, every press of this superior foot against his face — it's all me. The bitter, overlooked incel finally getting revenge by making the liberal faggot cum in total shame at the feet of the alpha he could never be.

I lowered the foot slowly, still wearing the jock’s cocky smirk on the outside, while inside I savored the sight of my rival reduced to a dripping, humiliated mess on the floor.

“Clean yourself up and crawl out, faggot,” I said with the alpha’s deep voice. “And remember who owns you now.”