Date: Wed, 15 Feb 2023 20:17:41 -0500
From: jasper adams <proseinourdreams@googlemail.com>
Subject: breaking baker mayfield 17

disclaimer:

this is a purely fictional story, but please do let me know if it does turn
out to be non-fiction ;-P.

i love to hear from all of you.

xoxo - jasper
proseinourdreams@gmail.com
proseinourdreams.wordpress.com

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< BREAKING BAKER MAYFIELD > < entry seventeen >

Baker somehow managed to get through all the questions, interviews, and
social media requests. He'd buried his drenched, soiled jockstrap deep in
the bathroom trashcan just seconds before he somehow collected himself
enough to emerge from the tiny, tiled space wreaking of ass, sweat and cum,
but the only thing on his mind was cock... more cum... that 11-inch, thick,
steely cock... more cum... to feel used, to feel Officer Kelly's hard, long
rod inside his hole again... to feel that high... he was so close to
getting that high again... to be fucked senseless... to scream his face
off... to feel his ass tremble and quake from the inside out... to lose
total control... to feel full... to feel cum deep inside his ass... to be a
cum dump... But all Baker felt was emptiness, tasting the officer's cum
still in his mouth and on his tongue... insatiable desperation.

The crazed quarterback dawdled out of the press room after he entertained
every last reporter's questions, until - one by one - the room cleared. The
kid literally fled from the Browns' press handlers afterwards, first hiding
in the emptied locker room, pathetically wandering around every inch of it
for Officer Kelly's presence, then finally down that long corridor, finally
desolate and eerily quiet... nervously opening every door that was
unlocked... nobody. Nobody.

Empty closet. Empty lounge. Empty bathroom, save the stench and stink of
cum and ass and sex and sweat still lingering from an hour prior. Baker was
horrified at how the tiny bathroom smelled... worse than any dirty locker
room or gym bag or running socks or shoes. How he must've smelled...

Nobody. No cock. No cum. No release. Baker feebly fished his precum-soaked
jock out of the bottom of that trashcan with a shaking hand... Clenching
that soggy, sullied jock in his white-knuckled fist... Angry,
humiliated... hysterical. His beefy body shook with desperation, his balls
so full, so aching, his cock straining against that cage, his
hole... gaping.

He was so close to that release... that orgasm... that high... to finally
feel something after being thoroughly emasculated. Seven days of fighting
his demons, his urges, his depravity, his addiction. The humiliation of
pissing with that stainless steel cage, the unbearable horniness he felt
every waking second of every waking day, the helplessness of unable to
achieve a proper erection or to properly ejaculate... the impotence of it
all... He'd even texted and called that nobody of a man over and over
again, begging, pleading, to get that cage off of him. To do anything, just
to be free of this degrading shame. But no, Baker's texts and calls were
ignored and met with deafening silence.

Baker knew he wasn't going to make it for a full month like this... Then
came Officer Kelly... again... who almost got him to cum, hands free,
caged, while getting fucked in that bathroom. That cock. That big, red,
veiny cock. So thick. So hard. Baker was so blue balled, leaking so much
precum and so close to cumming out of that cage... so close to feeling the
electricity shoot from his insides out to his fingers and toes and caged
cock. He could still taste the officer on his lips and tongue, inside
him... pummeling him... owning him. If the officer could just keep fucking
him like that, in that bathroom, for a minute longer, 30 seconds... 10
seconds longer, even...

Taking an extended shower in the abandoned locker room, the first he'd
taken at the stadium locker room with that cock cage on, Baker dared not
touch his hole or cock or balls. Deep down, the quarterback hoped, at any
minute, surely, the officer would appear in the abandoned locker room and
rape him, use him, fuck him, breed him... that Officer Kelly would fuck him
so brutally that he'd finally cum with that fucking chastity device clamped
around his pathetic, stub of a cock.

But no. Nobody. Silence. Emptiness. In the locker room, in the showers, in
the corridors, the bathrooms... the devastating emptiness in his
hole... After such a thrilling, career and life high of a night, Baker
crumpled to the depth of abject depression and rage as he slowly got
dressed, angrily throwing his soiled jock strap, the one he'd worn while
getting fucked in that bathroom, into his locker before slamming it shut
with burning anger and utter humiliation.

Thank god he managed to convince Emily to move to Cleveland next month,
lying to her... pleading with her that he needed to focus, focus, focus on
his new team and career. Just one more month... Baker couldn't believe what
he had done... the lies he'd told his family and loved ones... on the
biggest night of his life... what he was hoping for... what he
craved... his addiction... He was still on the edge of cumming... his
entire body still burned for that cock... his balls churned... his hole
quivered and gaped... his caged cock... forever leaking... straining...

...

The security guards at the stadium lavished congrats and praises on the
freshly-showered quarterback as he finally, finally gave up all hopes of
Officer Kelly appearing at any moment. Baker choked back resentful tears,
his balls debilitatingly full, his hole painfully empty, as he headed to
his car, clad in a hoody, tank top and gray shorts, donning a Browns cap
and those Nike sliders.

Baker froze in his tracks when he stepped into the stadium's
mostly-abandoned lot, immediately spotting a black SUV with heavily-tinted
windows parked deliberately next to his own, with its lights on. The
quarterback's long toes dug into his sliders as he immediately felt a wet
patch forming inside his boxers and shorts as he heard the engine rev,
feeling the pinch of his throbbing cock and balls. Before Baker could
realize what was happening, that SUV had pulled away with a screech and the
Browns quarterback found himself scrambling to his car. Before he could
realize what he was doing, the crazed jock was trailing the mysterious SUV,
praying that it was Officer Kelly behind the wheels, his empty hole
quivering as he sped down the dark, empty streets of Cleveland.

What felt like a blink of an eye later, Baker found himself parked next to
the abandoned SUV. He'd lost track of the SUV momentarily, but the athlete
felt his balls boil and leak more precum when he finally spotted the SUV
parked on the side of the road. Surely he'd spotted the officer's angry
shock of red beard in the dark... surely... he'd seen the officer head into
the woods via the wooded trail...  ...

"(Sweet boy...)"

"(Beefy young thing...)"

It was a cool September night in Ohio, but Baker was already covered in a
fresh coat of sweat. The trail into the woods had ended almost immediately,
and the hyperventilating quarterback's knees shook with every step as he
began hearing muffled voices around him. He had no idea what the fuck he
was doing, nor could he control what the hell he was doing or where he
going. Before he could comprehend and contemplate the potential
consequences of his uncontrollable brashness, by the time his cloudy, horny
mind adjusted to the sounds of depravity all around him, before his eyes
could adjust to the darkness and blackness of the woods at night, the
athlete felt the heat of other bodies nearing him as he hesitantly ambled
along.

"(Fresh meat...)"

"(That ass...)"

The next thing Baker could remember was the taste of a rancid cock... the
painful twigs and stones beneath his knees, the fatness of a stranger's
large belly pressed against his sweaty face... a hand flipping his Browns
cap backwards on his sweaty head while another gripping the top of his head
as a mediocre-sized cock pummeled his throat... Of feeling watched, of the
perverse sounds of other men masturbating... Of feeling exposed, of feeling
his shorts and boxers roughly pulled down and pooling around his knees...

Muffled, sneers, taunts... belittling jeers and demeaning
laughter... Sounds of masturbation grew louder all around him in the dark
woods.

A calloused hand tightly wrapped around his throat pulling him upright on
his knees to receive a stranger's voracious mouth with his own...The
wetness of a stranger's mouth, the coarseness of his beard... the forceful
hungriness of a stranger devouring his lips and tongue...  The horror of
accepting a stranger spitting in his mouth, again and again... the sheer
humiliation and degradation of letting a stranger spit his face, his eyes,
his nose, his lips, his red, cherubic cheeks... in his mouth... again and
again.

"Faggot..."

"Hungry little slut..."

"Good boy..."

"Use that pretty mouth..."

"Feed him..."

"Give the whore what he wants..."

All the muted, deadened sounds surrounding the quarterback suddenly flooded
his senses at maximum volume when Baker felt the hard sting of a man's
rough hand slap his spit-covered cheek. Their laughing, their filthy words,
their demeaning jeers... Baker heard himself whimper girlishly as that
stranger forced him back down on that mediocre cock, tasting that
disgusting man's member, smelling his dirty odor, feeling his belly flop
against his face...

Every fiber of his being screamed at him to GET OUT NOW. To STOP. To
RUN. But Baker couldn't stop. He could feel his own precum splattering out
of his cock cage against his bare thighs... His body burned so hot his tank
and hoody were already soaked through. The quarterback heard his own
pathetic whimpers gagging on that cock rise in pitch as foreign hands
molested his sweat-soaked body, massaging and spanking his exposed glutes,
peeling off his drenched hoody...

No. Baker couldn't stop. He could feel the cock fucking his face grow even
more turgid. He could feel a pair of demanding hands spreading his meaty
ass. He could hear more men encircling him, taunting him, laughing at him
as they discovered his caged cock... Slapping his balls from
behind... spitting on him...  Callous words, hurtful words... the stinging
of stones and twigs beneath his knees... Feeling more hands tug on his
caged cock, ridiculing him. Feeling more hands fondle and grope his beefy
torso through his soaked tank top. Feeling ravenous mouths and tongues on
his sweaty skin: his ass, his neck, his sweaty pits, his arms. Feeling men
take turns behind him, eating his pink hole, raping him with their tongues,
feeling one man after another try to elicit more squeals and whimpers and
muffled, girlish cries from the cock-sucking jock with their mouths and
tongues. Baker had never felt more violated. He had never felt more
exposed, more humiliated. No. His balls had never boiled hotter,
fuller. His cock never leaked more precum. His hole never
emptier. No. Baker couldn't stop.

"(Ughnn! Ughnnnnn! UGHNNNN! UGHNNNNNNNNN!!!!)"

His hands pawed at the stranger's thick denim jeans when suddenly, two
hands gripped the back of his sweaty, capped head even rougher and harder
than before. With guttural grunts, the stranger pummeled Baker's mouth and
throat with total disregard of the choking, gagging quarterback. Thick,
pungent ropes of cum immediately filled and overflowed from Baker's throat
and mouth, dribbling down the jock's chin as the man continued to orgasm
and spurt in his whore's mouth.

Baker felt he was drowning as he struggled to swallow every last drop of
that acrid cum when immediately, the spent cock was ripped from his throat.

"Ughn... ughnnn.. UGHNN! UGHNN! (UGHNN! UGHNN!!! UGHNN!!!!!)

Baker barely had time to catch his breath before another rock-hard cock
slapped him across his cummy chin and panting lips before shoving itself
inside his cummy mouth and throat. A big, greasy, fat, turgid cock, three
times bigger than the previous.Baker barely, barely managed to swallow the
whole dick, feeling tears trickle down his face and desperately trying not
to throw up, feeling heavy balls finally nestle against his chin and thick
pubes against his nose, before he suddenly cried out, screaming as he spat
out the veiny cock.

"JESUS! FUCK! UGHNN! UGHNN! OH FUCK! JESUS! FUCK! GUHNNN GUHNNN!
UGHNNNNN!!!!! FUCK!!! UGHNNN!!! FUCK! FUCK!"

Baker was dripping with sweat, tasting a stranger's acrid cum on his tongue
and lips, feeling the thick, pungent semen still dribbling from his chin,
feeling his body burn, shake, and quake... his knees and hands stinging
from the twigs and rocks beneath... Screaming. Baker screamed as a raw cock
forcefully snaked its way inside his hole with nothing but spit, sweat and
precum, screaming as he felt his body get split into two, his now bare feet
kicking wildly in the air behind him and his abuser, his knuckles white
from gripping the earth, his knees, numb and already bruised.

"Pretty little pussy boy..."

"Little bitch... open up... open up..."

"We got a wild one here..."

Unlike earlier that night - surrounded by his press handlers and the media
next door and god knows who else from the Browns - here, Baker finally
cried out in full voice as he got fucked brutally. Strangers no longer
cared about getting their dicks sucked or face fucking their whore for the
night. They wanted that ass. And to make the kid scream more.  ...

The presence of fresh blood had the men's blood and cum boiling. It didn't
take long for the pariahs to notice the cocky-looking young stud stumbling
his way through the park's most densely forested patch. The glimpses of the
hot kid in the scant moonlight... the beefy legs in gray athletic
shorts... the sounds of bare feet in sliders... the sweet smell of prey.

They watched as the first man, brazen and entitled, felt the kid up,
hearing the boy whimper and seeing him drop to his knees in almost an
instant, hearing the sounds of indecent gagging and coughing and wet
sloppiness as the kid swallowed that old, overweight man's cock. It didn't
take long, for the men to hear a moan from the kid, as someone pulled down
the jock's shorts and boxers and began voraciously eating out that
muscular, sweet ass.

It all escalated like a sweaty, cummy bomb had exploded. The kid fucking
lost his mind when a dick got shoved inside his ass. On all fours,
screaming his face off, the hot piece of jock ass cried and moaned and
whimpered like a bitch in heat as he started taking a rough pounding. His
stainless steel cock cage told everyone what he wanted, needed... And they
gave it to him.

How the jock boy arched his back, how fat and muscular his ass looked,
jiggling and bouncing in the moonlight as it took one cock after
another. The woods were instantly filled with boyish sweetness and manly
ripeness and stink, with the men counting their blessings for the arrival
of such a cock whore, stroking their cocks as they watched the beefy torso
- tight and heaving underneath that sweat-soaked tank top clinging to every
sinew of muscle on the kid's writhing back - waiting for their turn at that
ass.

The kid was hot. Thick and hard with a bit of leftover baby fat. Clearly an
athlete with those arms. Voraciously vulnerable. Submissive. Insatiable. A
total whore with a muscular ass that just won't quit.

One man literally fucked the kid to tears. Brutally. The boy was sobbing,
burying his face in his forearms on the ground, as a burly daddy railed and
pummeled his boy hole so deep and rough that the whimpers and cries and
screams emanating from the shaking slut turned into dry, hoarse gasps and
silent grunts. Fresh and old cum leaked out of that boy pussy with every
slam of daddy cock. Some thought the kid had blacked out but soon realized
he was sobbing into his arms while backing that glorious ass back onto the
cock that hurt him so deeply...

...

Baker wanted to black out. But no. He couldn't. He was drunk. High. He
wanted to feel all of it, he wanted it more than he wanted to black out and
shut it all out. His demons won. He was broken, again.

The total submission to getting brutalized by strangers. the sneers, the
voices all around him in the moonlit darkness, and the sadistic craving for
it to never end, for his consciousness to remain intact for as much as
possible, to feel the swell of heat and pain and wetness emanating from
inside his hole towards every inch of his body, to feel out of control of
his own body, to feel that wave hit him over and over again like each man's
cock had done... to revel in the humiliation, the perversity of getting
used, owned... whored out... to satisfy all these strangers... one after
another...

Baker sobbed as he got fucked ragged, feeling one man after another quake
and shake behind him, feeling the fullness of their domination overflowing
his abused hole, knowing full well his cock was straining against his cage
and pissing precum the whole time, hearing his own voice beg for
DEEPER. HARDER! HARDER! DEEPER! MORE! despite his tears. Baker was
desperate to feel that final elation, that euphoria, as he fought to remain
conscious, to ride that perilous line of euphoria, as he begged the men to
hurt and abuse him past his limits.

Baker had momentarily forgotten about Officer Kelly, who might be fucking
him or have already fucked him, or is waiting his turn. Who knows. The
quarterback was beyond any sense or meaningful consciousness... of any self
control, of any decorum... as he braced himself on his knees and
elbows... His ass up and ready for whoever wanted it next... feeling
electricity shoot through every millimeter of his sweaty, cummy body with
every painful penetration... that maybe, maybe he'd find that high at last,
to feel something again, to explode from all the pent up, debilitatingly
horny energy from the emasculating cock cage.

That, if enough men use him that night, hurt him, abuse him beyond his
breaking point... if they break him... hard... like he was begging them to
do... that maybe, maybe... maybe the pain, the humiliation... the torturous
abuse... sadistic violation of his body... the rape... that maybe...

Baker prayed as he begged for cum and cock, hoped and prayed as he cried
out with another thick, long cock bludgeoned and pummeled his sloppy,
overflowing jock hole... that if he took it all. took everything all these
men could possibly do to him and more... that maybe... when he wakes
up... feeling the pain of his body from the inside out, that maybe, he'd
not crave it anymore. that he'd finally have his fill, finally overdose,
finally hit rock bottom... That he'd wake up and not crave any of this
anymore... That all the men would break him. Break his dark perversion. Use
him so hard that he won't need it anymore...

"FUCK ME! FUCK ME! HARDER! HARDER! FUCK ME! UGHNN! UGHNNN! FUCK! JESUS!
FUCK!!! CUM IN ME! CUM! CUME IN ME! PLEASE! CUM! JUST CUM! IN! ME!"

...

Baker Mayfield. Whore of Cleveland. Baker Mayfield. Cum dump of
Cleveland. Baker Mayfield. Filthiest faggot of Cleveland. Pussy
bottom. Depraved little bitch. Hungry piece of hot ass... Wet cunt
Baker... Whore of Cleveland...

The cruelty of strangers, of the men, who, one by one, recognized the
rookie quarterback... It was pretty obvious really, with his sweat and
cum-soaked Browns cap still backwards on his head. One by one, each man
recognized Baker when the athlete's muscular glutes and wet hole wrapped
around and and devoured each new cock.

Their cruel words. Their ruthless heartlessness. Their vicious delight in
using, abusing and breeding the most famous athlete in the city at the
moment. They were surprised at how reckless the quarterback was, given the
amount of attention the kid was getting: press, interviews, social media
posts and endless high-profiled endorsements. The kid was a marketing
team's wet dream, and here he was on all fours, his shorts around his knees
and his tank top soaked with sweat and cum, manhandled and fucked for
everyone to see and use.

They were all surprised at how voracious a bottom whore Cleveland's new
star quarterback was, how fat and hot his ass was, how trained and
vigorously muscular his hole was... accommodating each new cock like a
bottomless pit of depraved whoredom as he screamed his face off, whimpering
like a bitch, like a virgin girl fucked open for the first time... Few even
paid attention the stainless steel cage around his cock or how much precum
and cum he was pissing on to and soiling those shorts around his
knees... It was about the kid's mouth and ass.

"UGNN! UGHNN! OH GOD! OW! OH SHIT! UGHNN! FUCK! UGHNN! OH FUCK! SHIT!
FUCK!!! UGHNNN! GUHNNNN!!!! OW!!"

...

Baker couldn't bear it. He was ruined. It was all over. They know. They all
know. Their demeaning and callous words echoed through the jock's pounding
head as he limped back to his car. Everyone in those woods all had a turn,
or two, or three, or four, with the broken athlete. They used him for as
long as their cocks could handle that insatiable hole, for as long as cum
brewed and replenished in their drained balls, for as long as it was still
night...

The sun was just about to rise when Baker final found himself alone and
collapsed in a heap of strangers' cum and god knows what. His hoody and cap
were nowhere to be found as he painfully pulled himself upright with
intense stiffness and aches, gingerly pulling up his cum- and sweat-soaked
shorts from around his bruised knees. His boxers were painfully torn off of
his body hours ago, and his tank top... somehow still clad to his sticky,
muscled torso, also ripped at the seams and barely resembling an article of
clothing, save the stretched collar and a few threads holding the tank
together.

The men were savages. But... but... the quarterback was nearly in tears as
he crawled out of that hellhole... torturous paradise... realizing... not
once... could he cum like this... Not once... in the hours of brutal
fucking... not once... in the marathon orgy of perversity, was he able to
cum. He was so close... so many times... but no... his overflowing balls,
blue and aching... saw no release.

Every new cock was a struggle, a reminder of the perversity and humiliation
his addiction demanded. Baker, his voice hoarse and gone from screams and
whimpers and cries and moans, begged for more and more when a stranger's
rhythm suddenly turns erratic, fucking him wilder, deeper, faster,
harder... hanging on to those moments when a stranger's cock suddenly
swells harder, thicker... those final moments when his rapist slams into
his broken hole for the last time, shoving an erupting cock at the deepest
point of his quarterback chute, the sensation of getting bred, the heat of
gushing cum overflowing his worn ass, of the men convulsing and shaking on
top of him...

Every time a man was about to dump his load inside Baker, the quarterback
begged for him to keep going, to keep fucking him like that... that wild
fucking... that merciless pounding... he begged for the ferocity of the
fucking to last... those last, final thrusts... Baker wished it to all be
like that those final, guttural thrusts... he wished it could all be that
animalistic, that no holds barred, that absolute abandonment... so that
maybe, maybe... just maybe, someone can finally push him past the edge he's
been riding all week and finally make him feel something, to feel that
euphoria, that orgasm...

But no. Baker was broken.

It can't go on like this. Never again. Baker screamed to himself, tears of
regret forming in his empty eyes as he ambled to his car, his cummy, sweaty
feet barely able to gain traction in those Nike slides of his. He'd felt
low before; he'd hated himself like this after every vile bender, but not
this. They all recognized him. They jeered him and shouted his name. Men
have degraded his body before, but not his name... not all these
strangers... not when his celebrity just shot into the stratosphere, not
when he was officially a NFL quarterback.

No. He couldn't go on like this. He cannot afford being so abased and
reckless, if he still has a career and image and wife and family after
tonite/this morning...

...

Baker had barely pieced together his broken psyche... He'd just managed to
dull the pain of his body and hole... He'd just mustered the courage to
drive into his garage... Just as he yoga-breathed the shit out of himself
in order to contain his endless meltdowns and hysterical breakdowns that
plagued him on the drive home. Just as he pulled up to his spot, Baker
spotted that SUV again... parked next to his spot. It can't be the same
car, can it?! No way. There's no way people knew his new address... right?
No fucking way.

Every step hurt the quarterback as he climbed the exhausting flights of
stairs up to his penthouse apartment. He'd avoided the building's elevators
and snuck in wreaking of debauchery and sex via the back staircase,
pathetically covering himself with another Browns hoody he found in his
car. Every step made the athlete's knees shake with fear, with anxiety,
regret... anticipation...

...

"You want this cock, don't you, faggot?"

"..."

"Come on, Baker... you little cunt... You little whore... Never enough,
huh, Baker Mayfield..."

The quarterback was a sight. Sweaty. Greasy. Dirty. Covered in dried cum
and dirt and god knows what as he shut and locked the door behind
him. Frozen in place, Baker gasped with terror as he made out the officer's
striking figure on his designer lounge chair, smoking a cigar in his new
home...

To be continued...

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