No one even suspects that he loves to have his holes stuffed. Everyone knows him as the 'good, quiet guy'...

No one around to feed you juice? You can take some from your balls...

No boring moments cruising. You don't find a slút you like, you spread your seed on fertile soil...

"No biting, bitch!"

A wh0re's night off in the red district.

They said it was a quick flash to settle who’s bigger, but it escalated into a throbbing standoff.

Restart. Reprogram. Enslave.

"Are you hypnotised already, daddy?"

By the end, he was just a sweaty skin-bag full of arm and regret, pissing from both ends while his destroyed arse burped lube and blood bubbles.

Alpha rut unleashed: hole’s now a 24/7 sperm bank with no withdrawal limit and a broken “closed” sign.

Thought he bought ket, turned out to be “gay-T”; next thing he knows, he’s ridden like Seabiscuit.

"Homie wanted someone to use." Silent but violent? Nah. His was loud and fertile.

Fukking beg for it!

The Rocky Boys.

Slúts be like:

Pussylina's swollen pussy.

Now you know where your best friend gets all that money from. And why your dad refused to buy you a car.

Training the white fäggot to be forever a sex object for black masters.

The second he saw you, he knew where you needed to stand. You are thankful for that, slave.

They were balls-deep in the park bushes when a jogger ran by. One frantic thrust later, and the top whispered, “Relax, bro, if we get caught just tell them we’re doing CPR… Cum Pumping Resuscitation.”

Nothing will save that mirror now.

Nothing happens if you do not stimulate your pussy, boy.

Old fäg on teen's sweaty pits.

Oh, fukk? You'll never fukk, fäg!

Beauty pageant winner turned out to be such a nasty pig.

Pretty watery...but he jerks off twice a day, at least... No wonder.

Now repeat after me, bitch: “Yes, Sir, I’m nothing without your attention.” Good boy.

Just put some pressure on it.

Raised his dick like Excalibur, only to unleash the golden shower of shame.

How can he not love it? A twink coming loaded to their first date...

He had to let him plant himself on his raw dick. He is doing all his homework...

His baby bro's asshole just got death-row pounded. Last meal was dignity. Execution method: raw hateful dick.

Thought you were a tight end? Wait till he turns your throat into the widest receiver on campus.

Professional title: Exotic Dancer. Street title: Cock Auctioneer in a jockstrap.

Slings and benches are for public claiming. Find a boy already strapped in or bent over—lube up and mount him deep while the crowd watches. Fukk him loud and proud; the moans draw more slúts who want their next turn on your cock.

Self-service.

Daddy fucked his throat raw until the lad puked so hard his abs cramped. “That crunch sound? That’s your dignity hitting the tiles, lad. Lick it up.”

“That’s it, you little fuck-pig, spew last night’s protein shake all over Daddy’s boots; tongue-bath them clean after.”

Shirt off, pants off, dignity off faster than a fire alarm. Dick out, brain on airplane mode.

"Still think I forced myself on you, bro?"

Squash and stretch.

The slimy environment a dick loves.

Take a step backwards. It might destroy the screen...

They turn themselves into sex objects, don't they?

Tear them off. Cut that testosterone supply.

That little fäggot begged for something to burn his throat. And good boys get their wishes granted.

Tongue out, eyes up, begging for the warm yellow baptism right down the fucking hatch.

“I’m gonna flood your guts till you’re leaking my DNA, boy. Congratulations, you’re eating for two now!”

Nothing says “you’re just a bitch now” like painting a perfect face with nut and watching it drip off like the final insult to whatever masculinity he thought he had left.

When Master finally breeds him, it’s not sex, it’s a hostile takeover.