Date: Tue, 9 Feb 2010 18:12:21 -0800 (PST)
From: corvus 69x <corvus69x@yahoo.com>
Subject: Riggs part 1

Riggs was the sort of man I lusted after. In his mid thirties, right at
the time when one's manliness reached its peak. He'd blond hair neatly
combed back and an elusive stubble that I imaged running over the skin of
my ass. On the boat deck, he always wore white pants, loafers and a
tight-fitting button-down shirt that hinted at curls of hair emerging
from his chest. He had great pecs. I wanted to feel them with my palms as
he fucked me.

Well, I lied when I said he always wore those pants, loafers and that
sort of shirt on deck. And it wasn't that I didn't know what he looked
like with his shirt off. This was a gay cruise after all, and gay cruises
had serious parties under and on the deck. They were at night though,
with the mad-light of the moon and lamps etching each muscle, each stern
plane of Riggs's face.

The first time I saw him at one of those parties, I wasn't sure it was
him. His shirt was off, and he was moving on the dance floor with a
savagery that was completely at odds with the top-executive look he took
with him in the day. But it was Riggs all right: shoulders so big they
were the size of my thighs, arms and hands that could wrap around you and
leave bruises on your ribs and hips, thighs you could wrap you horny slut
body against and hump all night long. Anyway, that first sighting
completed my assessment of Riggs. He was a combination of brute savagery
and refined control. You only get that sort of man in his mid thirties,
probably as a top executive. My asshole throbbed at the thought of him.

The second time I saw him that night made my ass and cock twitch even
more. It was deep into the party, and most people were either undressed
or undressing, or under the deck fucking. I myself had been taken. I'd
been bent over the railing while a sailor reamed my ass out with his
eight inch cock. That was twenty minutes ago, I could feel his cum
seeping out of my ass and running down the inside of my thigh. I wasn't
prepared for how I felt, though, when I saw Riggs leaning against the bar
getting an enthusiastic, almost desperate blowjob. He was magnificently
naked. He still wore sunglasses though. I froze at the sight and knew
that I wanted to be that muscle twink bitch -- it was the bartender, I
recognized -- gagging on his cock. When I looked up, I saw Riggs facing
me -- I'd no way of knowing if he caught my gaze, but the chance of it
was enough for me to drop my gaze. I was that much in lust with him.

I saw him later, too. The subsequent few nights, he was gone. I suppose
he'd taken his quarry to his room to fuck. I imagined some spread-legged
twenty year old with his arms tangled in the sheets, begging for mercy,
while Riggs stood behind him, feet firm on the ground, thrusting his
manly cock into his prey. Then I saw him on the deck, fucking a lucky man
from below. The man being fucked was clearly in heaven. And Riggs was
pounding it in good, his muscles glistening in the half light. The man he
was fucking had the similar build as the one I'd seen giving him a
blowjob the first night: rounded shoulders and lean, but not skinny. Like
me. It occurred to me that Riggs must be systematically working his way
through all the muscle twinks on board.

I wasn't far from the mark. Three days later, I saw Riggs on the deck.
Riggs was back in his white pants and loafers and button-down shirt. And
he turned to me and spoke. "Hey. My name is Riggs."

His voice was a deep baritone. I had a hardon already. "Hi, I'm Andy."

We chit-chatted for a few minutes. "Are you with someone on board?" he
said.

"No. A bunch of friends got me this cruise ticket for my birthday."

Riggs nodded. Then he stepped next to me, and I felt a hand brush against
my ass. His voice dropped. "Want to come down below deck with me?"

The first taking was painful, but the pain soon melted into unimaginable
pleasure. Riggs waited until we were in his room before he touched me
again. He put a hand against the back of my head and brought our mouths
together in a possessive kiss. I felt his fingers tighten in my hair,
controlling me, and his tongue went deep into my core, touching every
part of me. "Take off your clothes," he said. Take off your clothes,
bitch, was what I heard. But Riggs was the sort of man who didn't need to
tell you you were his bitch; you knew it, and your cock and ass twitched
just from his casually glancing at you.

In seconds I was naked. "Come on," he said. He was bare-chested now, huge
and massive muscles rippling. "Suck me." I unbuttoned his pants. He was
wearing no underwear, and his cock, already magnificently erect, was
finally in front of me. So close that I could feel its heat
bitch-slapping my face. It had to be at least nine inches long. It was
perfect: a purplish head, a thick shaft, running into a musky forest of
pubes, and bull-nuts that, when I cupped with my inadequate hands, felt
the size of tennis balls.

I opened my mouth and wrapped it around his penis, putting as much of it
inside my throat as I could. Of course that amounted to only four inches,
leaving five unattended to. But then I felt Riggs's right hand on the
back of my head, tightening its grip on my hair. He pushed me deeper down
and I slobbered, gagged. There was no way I could take his dick. It was
thicker than my gullet and longer than my throat. But somehow he was
getting six, seven, eight inches into my face. At eight and half he
spoke: "Yeah, that's more like it." Then we were home. I felt the heavy
sac of his balls against my chin, and my nose was smashed against his
pubic bone, the undeniable musk of his sex intoxicating me and turning me
into his total slave. I was his. I was his from the moment I laid eyes on
him. But now I was his completely.

He face fucked me for what seemed like forever. It must have only been
twenty minutes or so. Riggs pushed the entirety of his nine-inch cock
deep into my throat and waited for me to gag, convulse in desperation,
and then pulled his dick out until the head was at my lips. I would fight
back retching. He would give a low growl: "Yeah." Then, just as my eyes
would roll up to worship the massiveness of his muscle body, Riggs would
shove his dick deep into my throat again. "Take it." Then he would run
his big hands around my gullet, feeling the outlines of his dick against
my neck.

When he came, he was so deep in me, and so in control I didn't even know
it. It was only when Riggs pulled out so that only his huge purple head
was in my mouth and shot an incredible jet into the back of my mouth that
I knew it. Then he pulled out and, not touching his magnificent meat,
fountained all over my face.

"Turn around," he said without even a pause. "I'm going to breed your
other end."

He'd just come, and he was going to fuck me? I busily lapped down his cum
-- my master's cum -- when I felt his finger at my asshole. I had to stop
trying to lick all the cum from my face because he'd gotten a finger in
me. I froze, groaned and squeezed my asshole around his finger. "Yeah,"
Riggs said approvingly. He put two fingers into my asshole, and at three
fingers I was quivering with lust, not daring to move for fear of
upsetting him, but desperate to fuck myself into his hand.

He pulled out and stood. I didn't realize that half my weight had been
supported by Riggs's right arm until I stumbled and had to reach out for
the bed. Riggs gave me no time to steady myself. I could feel his
cockhead at my winking, horny, desperate asshole. I turned around and saw
Riggs crouching behind him, looking like a bull reading to mount its
bitch, his muscled body dominating the cabin. Dominating me. Then I felt
him push in the first inch or so.

"Ahhhh!" I cried. I hurt, and my asshole was dancing on his dick. It was
happening so fast, he was already in another few inches. He stopped
because I realized that he'd reached a kink in my rectum, and he'd have
to maneuver around it. Riggs's hands came down to my hips. My cock hung
hard and heavy. "Unhh..." I moaned as I felt Riggs push aside my guts
with his nine-inches manhood. "No, you're... aahh..."

Riggs ignored me. He must've heard dozens, maybe hundreds of bottom boys
complain and say they couldn't take any more, and then seconds later turn
into bitches in heat, begging for more cock and more cock. That was what
I'd become. Riggs had broken past the barrier, shoved through so deep
that I felt my entire body wrapped around his cock. I was nothing but a
receptacle for his pleasure. An extension of his cock. "Unnnhh!" I
groaned as I felt him sink the rest of his penis into my rectum. I could
feel his pubes against my tailbone, and his balls drape down lower than
mine, bull testicles, having cum just minutes ago but again ready for the
next breeding.

He fucked me for ten minutes like this, crouched behind me. I was in an
awkward position, with my knees alternately rubbing against the floor or
bumping into the bed. I had less than a foot of space I could move around
in, and every inch of that involved some form of being impaled on his
cock. It was deliriously good. My body was weak, and the feeling was
already starting in my toes of an impending orgasm. Riggs seemed to be
supporting the entirety of my body weight with his penis alone, but I was
still flopping about.

Riggs solved the problem by lifting me easily by the hips and dropping me
on the bed. "Ahhh... unhhh..." I moaned as he sank his dick back in --
all the way in. More penetration this time. I was spread-legged on the
bed, arms splayed out, head turned and smashed into the sheets and
bumping into the wall every time Riggs fucked me. And Riggs fucked me
from behind, his hands gripping my hips for better penetration, feet
planted on the ground. Only, I was not only begging for mercy. "Aahhh...
you're too big, it's... unnhh, yes, oh yes... fuck me!"

I was on the verge of cumming. Maybe Riggs sensed this, maybe he was
bored of this position. Maybe he wanted to show me just how much he owned
me and how I was nothing more than a warm, begging orifice for his cock.
Our next position had me lying on his body as he fucked me from below. I
heard his breath and felt it against my ear; his massive pecs rubbed
against my back. My legs were spread on either side of his, my feet not
reaching the floor. And his biceps contracting as he lifted me up on his
cock. Then down. "Fuck me, oh fuck me!" I screamed.

That afternoon, I came three times. The first time was in that position,
my cock shooting ropes of cum without my even touching it, a tribute to
the master fucking me. Then Riggs bent me so that I was folded against
the bed, my shoulders on the floor. Riggs stood over me, pile-driving his
cock every which way into my hole. I was on the verge of cumming before
he threw me onto the sheets and sank into me. Riggs had a nelson's grip
on my arms; his breath was against my neck; and I wrapped my legs
sluttishly around his butt as he rocked the bed with particularly vicious
thrusts. I came into the sheets screaming, "Yes! Yes, oh Riggs! I'm your
bitch, Riggs!"

"You and every other little whore on this boat," Riggs growled in my ear.
I was too well-fucked to care. I was in utter bliss. Here I was, being
fucked by the most amazing cocksman I had ever met. I was a slave, a
nothing, to be used solely for his pleasure. And Riggs reached that final
plateau of pleasure with my head and shoulders crammed into a corner, my
legs spread obscenely around his waist, and his arms gripping the bars in
the room as he hammered me into a roaring finish, completely ignoring me.
That was when I came a third time.

Riggs turned me out after that. "I'll see you tonight," he said and
smiled for the first time. It was a supercilious smile, and we both knew
that he meant he would fuck another few loads into my holes while I
brainlessly begged him for more.

"Yes," I said. Yes, Master, I thought, and blinked in the strange
sunlight of the deck.


Copyright 2010 corvus.  All Rights Reserved.