Hard core stories for the hard core. These stories are all fantasies and should not be taken as portraying either the actions or the inclinations of those individuals appearing in the accompanying photos or gifs. All photos and gifs are reblogs. If you want a post or photo of or about you deleted, please let me know and I will delete it.
Mr. Reed was my high school American history teacher, fresh out of college. He'd grown a little goatee to try to make himself look older but all of us seniors knew that he was only about five years older than we were. And the thing was, I thought he was sexy as shit.
He reminded me of my older brother Everett, who I’d banged every day when I was a sophomore and a junior, making him my bitch, treating him as my fuck-slave until Everett finally couldn’t take it anymore and enlisted in the Army just to get away from me. I wasn’t that surprised when Everett joined up. After all, it is pretty emasculating being your younger brother’s bitch, particularly when the younger brother is me. I just loved making Everett do degrading and embarrassing things like shaving off his pubes in the boy’s shower and wearing frilly pink panties whenever he had gym class.
Everett was pretty much the laughingstock of his class by the time he graduated and everybody thought he was a stone-cold fag unlike his younger brother, me, who had already acquired quite the reputation as a first-class cocksman. The funny thing is, as far as bitches are concerned, I can take ‘em or leave ‘em. It's dudes that I really like pronging, particularly older ones - not too old, mind you, just old enough to add a fillip of added humiliation to their submission to my cock. And Everett? Fuck, he wasn’t a fag; he was just a wimp. He liked girls fine, not that he was allowed to date any once I took over his life. Course, after two years of playing the bitch, it’s probably hard to break ingrained behavioral patterns and I wouldn’t be at all surprised if Everett ended up being the barracks fuckboy for all his Army buddies. But the bottom line was that ever since Everett had bailed on me, I’d been looking for some older dude to fuck.
And Mr. Reed, he seemed to fit the bill. He had a tight, muscular body, which is just what I want my male bitches to have. And he was enough older than me to make it really humiliating for him when I made him my bitch. And him being a teacher and me being one of his students, well that would give me so much leverage over him that I was sure that, once I bitched him out, he wouldn’t have any choice but to do exactly what I said. And the capper was that I felt the same vibe from Mr. Reed that I had originally picked up from my brother Everett. There was something squishy about him, something that I just knew would make it easy to maneuver him into bending over for me. And, once he’d done that, he was mine - my bitch, my twenty-something teacher bitch.
I played it cool with Mr. Reed. I was friendly, but not too friendly, though, given that he was a new teacher, and all my bros went out of their way to make his life miserable in class, just my saying ‘hello’ to him every day was probably enough to make me one of his favorite students. Then, I proceeded to tank the first big exam in his class. Intentionally, of course. I've got to say I’d never actually tried to fail an exam before and it was actually quite a trip trying to see how fucked-up an answer I could submit to some of the questions. My favorite response was an extended discussion of how the New York Yankees had defeated the Southern communists (they were called ‘Johnny Reds,’ weren’t they) in the American Civil War. I knew there wasn’t any way Mr. Reed could give me a passing grade, no matter how much he might want to and, sure enough, when he handed the exams back mine had a big fat ‘F’ right at the top. Naturally, I made a point of seeing Mr. Reed after class.
Given the job I’d done in eviscerating the test there was no way I could make more than a perfunctory argument that my exam deserved a higher grade. Instead, I pleaded that I’d been distracted, that I hadn’t been able to concentrate because of unexplained problems at home. Mr. Reed was sympathetic but, seeing how little I was giving him to work with he really couldn’t do anything to raise the grade. And that was when I turned away, got myself ready, and then emitted a pitiful sob.
Well, that sure got Mr. Reed’s attention. Immediately, he came over to me and lightly touched my shoulder. "What's the matter, Keith?” he asked, the concern obvious in his voice.
“Nothing, sir. Nothing," I responded in my most unconvincing voice. Then I allowed myself another loud sob.
“Keith, what is it?” Mr. Reed asked, really concerned now.
“It’s nothing, sir. It's really nothing,” I answered turning to let him see the tears rolling down my face. "It's just...it’s just he’s gonna beat me so bad when he sees this grade. It'll be the belt for sure. Last time I failed an exam he beat me so bad I couldn’t come to school for three days.’
“Who’s going to beat you, Keith?” he asked. "Your father? Is it your father who’s going to beat you?”
‘Oh, yes, sir,” I managed to squeak out. I gotta say that at this point I almost lost it. I mean, the idea of my father beating me was just so laughable. If anything, my old man was a bigger wimp than Everett had ever been. My mother ran him ragged around the house. Hell, if I had wanted to, I could have bent him over and banged his wimpy ass after Everett high-tailed it into the military. And I probably would have, too, if I’d had the slightest sexual interest in him. But he was too old for my tastes and had long since gone to seed. Unlike Mr. Reed who was just the right age and had just the right body.
Anyway, even as Mr. Reed was spouting out some nonsense about how my father couldn’t do that, that it sounded like child abuse to him, I was slowly closing the distance between us, until I suddenly just plopped my head onto his chest - and was pleased to discover he had really nice pecs - and cried into his shoulder. I waited just long enough until I felt Mr. Reed’s arms go around my body in a comforting gesture and then looked up at his face, now just inches from mine. "Oh, Mr. Reed,” I sobbed out, “what am I going to do?”
Well, before Mr. Reed could even begin to formulate a response, I did what I’d been planning on doing all along - I smashed my lips against his. And held them there. Mr. Reed, who obviously had not been prepared at all for this turn of events, was slow to react, which actually allowed me to slip him a little tongue before he managed to pull his head back. "No, no, Keith,” he tried saying, his eyes wide in shock. "No."
I didn’t pay him any mind, of course. Instead, I reached around, grabbed his head and mashed his face against mine and went back to kissing him. We struggled a little bit before I managed to pull him down to the floor with him on top of me. If anyone had barged into the classroom just then, they would have definitely thought he was assaulting me. We rolled around the floor for a little, him trying to fend me off, me ripping his clothes off his fine, fine body. It took a while but eventually I had him buck naked and when I saw Mr. Reed’s beautiful butt, I knew I had hit paydirt - or at least I soon was going to be drilling into it.
It was while we were rolling around on the floor that I realized I’d been right about Mr. Reed. He was just like Everett - he was a wimp. He was probably stronger than me, muscle-wise, but he just didn’t have it in him to let himself go and really fight me. He kept holding back. But I sure as hell didn’t, which was why at the end I was on top and Mr. Reed was underneath me, getting his virgin twenty-something ass screwed by one of his teenage students.
After I’d popped off a massive load of boy-scuzz deep up his guts, I rolled off my teacher. Mr. Reed just lay there on the floor, probably still not fully comprehending just what happened. I reached over and grabbed my iPhone out of my pocket and took a few photos of Mr. Reed stretched out buck naked on his classroom floor, a trickle of my ball-slime leaking out of his inflamed fuck-hole. Not that I figured I’d really need them - I knew I had the man’s number now, he was a wimp - but, damn it, his butt was just so beautiful that I wanted to take some pics.
By the time Mr. Reed began to rouse himself, I’d already put my clothes back on and was sitting down on the floor watching him. When he saw me sitting there, he started to say some shit like, ‘I don’t know what just happened, but it can’t happen again,’ but I cut him off right away. "Just shut the fuck up and listen to me, Mr. Reed,” I told him, dropping any pretense of being some scared abused teenage boy. And then I laid it all out for him: how he’d had sex with a student which was bad enough, but the student was an underage seventeen-year-old boy and he was an adult and that made it statutory rape. It wasn’t just the loss of his job that he faced - it was doing major time in prison as a child molester and he knew what happened to men like that in prison. But even as I was waving the threat of major jail time over his head, I was also assuring him that none of this bad shit would happen, that nobody would find out that he’d had sex with me, as long as he agreed to play ball.
Mr. Reed looked so pathetic right then, still lying there stark naked on the floor, his ravaged asshole still leaking my ball-scuzz, just beginning to realize how totally fucked he really was. "What do you want?” he finally asked. "Money?"
“No,” I laughed at him. "I don’t want money. Not that I have anything against it and not that you won’t be providing me with some money in the future. What I want is you - as my fuck-bitch. As my personal sex-slave. As my private piece of male pussy. I want you as my whore, Mr. Reed. That's what I want. And that’s what you’re gonna give me because, to tell you the truth, Mr. Reed, you really don’t have any other choice.”
The look of stunned disbelief on his face was priceless. It was the exact look Everett had given me when I told him he was going to be my whore. Wimps are all alike, I guess. Anyway, I didn’t bother waiting for an answer. What was the point? We both knew he didn’t have any choice. I got to my feet and looked down at him. "Get dressed, bitch,” I ordered, putting him in his new place right off the bat. "I want to fuck that nice little pussy you’ve got between your legs again. And I want to do it in a bed - in your bed.”
There was a flicker of resistance in his eyes for just a fleeting moment but it was soon submerged in the same abject surrender to the inevitable I’d seen so often in Everett’s face. Wordlessly, he got up, put his torn clothes back on and then led the way out of the classroom. He was my bitch, now, and he knew it. I fucked Reed’s brains out that night, fucked him so badly he could hardly walk when I was done with him, and he had to call in sick the next day.
That was two months ago and there hasn’t been a single day since then when I haven’t fucked Reed at least a couple of times each day. And I’ve got to say, Reed’s got the greatest pussy, man or bitch, I’ve ever fucked. I just can’t get enough of it. I could bang that boycunt 24/7 for an entire year and not get my fill.
And Reed? Well, even I have to admit that Reed surprised me. It took him less than a week of hard corings to go from hating getting dicked to not being able to get enough of it. Everett, he was straight; but Reed turned out to be the biggest closet case imaginable. He's an incredible cock-whore now, which would be kind of disappointing if he wasn’t such a spectacular lay. However, just because he loves getting my big dick fed to him multiple times every day, it doesn’t mean that Reed is totally comfortable being my bitch. He hates drinking my piss for one thing, so of course I force him to guzzle it down at least once a day. And he hates getting spanked, too, so I never miss an opportunity to order him to crawl up on my lap and take a real hard ass-whipping. But what he really hates is how I go out of my way to embarrass him in public.
From the very start, I made him stop wearing underwear and start wearing skinny jeans and super-tight shorts. And since all I have to do to get him hard now is to look at him a certain way, his lectures in class have become an agony of embarrassment for him - particularly since he knows he’s not allowed to cover himself up in any way when he’s popping a bone. 'Mr. Hard-Reed’ is what all his students call him now, more than one to his face, which isn’t totally accurate. Reed has a relatively thick dick, not that he’ll ever be using it as a fuck-stick again.
But what I really enjoy doing is taking Reed for extended weekend walks in the nearby woods. Once we get deep enough inside the forest boundaries, I tell him to strip and then I do likewise and proceed to plow the crap out of his pussy, over and over again. Reed loves the fucking, of course, but he’s always nervous that we’re going to get caught and some of his students will see me fucking him. I tell him not to worry - after all I turned eighteen last month and I’m not a minor any more - but the truth is I enjoy his fear and embarrassment. It's what makes fucking him in a public setting even more enjoyable than screwing his pussy in the comfort of a bed.
I’ll be graduating in a couple of months and, after I do, I’m planning on moving in with Reed full-time. I'm not sure what I’m going to do career-wise, whether I want to go on to community college or get a job. But, either way, I know that Reed is going to be my fuck-bitch for the foreseeable future. He may be a wimp, but he’s a phenomenal fuck, too - and that, at least as far as I’m concerned, trumps being a wimp every time.
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Mr. Reed was my high school American history teacher, fresh out of college. He'd grown a little goatee to try to make himself look older but all of us seniors knew that he was only about five years older than we were. And the thing was, I thought he was sexy as shit.
He reminded me of my older brother Everett, who I’d banged every day when I was a sophomore and a junior, making him my bitch, treating him as my fuck-slave until Everett finally couldn’t take it anymore and enlisted in the Army just to get away from me. I wasn’t that surprised when Everett joined up. After all, it is pretty emasculating being your younger brother’s bitch, particularly when the younger brother is me. I just loved making Everett do degrading and embarrassing things like shaving off his pubes in the boy’s shower and wearing frilly pink panties whenever he had gym class.
Everett was pretty much the laughingstock of his class by the time he graduated and everybody thought he was a stone-cold fag unlike his younger brother, me, who had already acquired quite the reputation as a first-class cocksman. The funny thing is, as far as bitches are concerned, I can take ‘em or leave ‘em. It's dudes that I really like pronging, particularly older ones - not too old, mind you, just old enough to add a fillip of added humiliation to their submission to my cock. And Everett? Fuck, he wasn’t a fag; he was just a wimp. He liked girls fine, not that he was allowed to date any once I took over his life. Course, after two years of playing the bitch, it’s probably hard to break ingrained behavioral patterns and I wouldn’t be at all surprised if Everett ended up being the barracks fuckboy for all his Army buddies. But the bottom line was that ever since Everett had bailed on me, I’d been looking for some older dude to fuck.
And Mr. Reed, he seemed to fit the bill. He had a tight, muscular body, which is just what I want my male bitches to have. And he was enough older than me to make it really humiliating for him when I made him my bitch. And him being a teacher and me being one of his students, well that would give me so much leverage over him that I was sure that, once I bitched him out, he wouldn’t have any choice but to do exactly what I said. And the capper was that I felt the same vibe from Mr. Reed that I had originally picked up from my brother Everett. There was something squishy about him, something that I just knew would make it easy to maneuver him into bending over for me. And, once he’d done that, he was mine - my bitch, my twenty-something teacher bitch.
I played it cool with Mr. Reed. I was friendly, but not too friendly, though, given that he was a new teacher, and all my bros went out of their way to make his life miserable in class, just my saying ‘hello’ to him every day was probably enough to make me one of his favorite students. Then, I proceeded to tank the first big exam in his class. Intentionally, of course. I've got to say I’d never actually tried to fail an exam before and it was actually quite a trip trying to see how fucked-up an answer I could submit to some of the questions. My favorite response was an extended discussion of how the New York Yankees had defeated the Southern communists (they were called ‘Johnny Reds,’ weren’t they) in the American Civil War. I knew there wasn’t any way Mr. Reed could give me a passing grade, no matter how much he might want to and, sure enough, when he handed the exams back mine had a big fat ‘F’ right at the top. Naturally, I made a point of seeing Mr. Reed after class.
Given the job I’d done in eviscerating the test there was no way I could make more than a perfunctory argument that my exam deserved a higher grade. Instead, I pleaded that I’d been distracted, that I hadn’t been able to concentrate because of unexplained problems at home. Mr. Reed was sympathetic but, seeing how little I was giving him to work with he really couldn’t do anything to raise the grade. And that was when I turned away, got myself ready, and then emitted a pitiful sob.
Well, that sure got Mr. Reed’s attention. Immediately, he came over to me and lightly touched my shoulder. "What's the matter, Keith?” he asked, the concern obvious in his voice.
“Nothing, sir. Nothing," I responded in my most unconvincing voice. Then I allowed myself another loud sob.
“Keith, what is it?” Mr. Reed asked, really concerned now.
“It’s nothing, sir. It's really nothing,” I answered turning to let him see the tears rolling down my face. "It's just...it’s just he’s gonna beat me so bad when he sees this grade. It'll be the belt for sure. Last time I failed an exam he beat me so bad I couldn’t come to school for three days.’
“Who’s going to beat you, Keith?” he asked. "Your father? Is it your father who’s going to beat you?”
‘Oh, yes, sir,” I managed to squeak out. I gotta say that at this point I almost lost it. I mean, the idea of my father beating me was just so laughable. If anything, my old man was a bigger wimp than Everett had ever been. My mother ran him ragged around the house. Hell, if I had wanted to, I could have bent him over and banged his wimpy ass after Everett high-tailed it into the military. And I probably would have, too, if I’d had the slightest sexual interest in him. But he was too old for my tastes and had long since gone to seed. Unlike Mr. Reed who was just the right age and had just the right body.
Anyway, even as Mr. Reed was spouting out some nonsense about how my father couldn’t do that, that it sounded like child abuse to him, I was slowly closing the distance between us, until I suddenly just plopped my head onto his chest - and was pleased to discover he had really nice pecs - and cried into his shoulder. I waited just long enough until I felt Mr. Reed’s arms go around my body in a comforting gesture and then looked up at his face, now just inches from mine. "Oh, Mr. Reed,” I sobbed out, “what am I going to do?”
Well, before Mr. Reed could even begin to formulate a response, I did what I’d been planning on doing all along - I smashed my lips against his. And held them there. Mr. Reed, who obviously had not been prepared at all for this turn of events, was slow to react, which actually allowed me to slip him a little tongue before he managed to pull his head back. "No, no, Keith,” he tried saying, his eyes wide in shock. "No."
I didn’t pay him any mind, of course. Instead, I reached around, grabbed his head and mashed his face against mine and went back to kissing him. We struggled a little bit before I managed to pull him down to the floor with him on top of me. If anyone had barged into the classroom just then, they would have definitely thought he was assaulting me. We rolled around the floor for a little, him trying to fend me off, me ripping his clothes off his fine, fine body. It took a while but eventually I had him buck naked and when I saw Mr. Reed’s beautiful butt, I knew I had hit paydirt - or at least I soon was going to be drilling into it.
It was while we were rolling around on the floor that I realized I’d been right about Mr. Reed. He was just like Everett - he was a wimp. He was probably stronger than me, muscle-wise, but he just didn’t have it in him to let himself go and really fight me. He kept holding back. But I sure as hell didn’t, which was why at the end I was on top and Mr. Reed was underneath me, getting his virgin twenty-something ass screwed by one of his teenage students.
After I’d popped off a massive load of boy-scuzz deep up his guts, I rolled off my teacher. Mr. Reed just lay there on the floor, probably still not fully comprehending just what happened. I reached over and grabbed my iPhone out of my pocket and took a few photos of Mr. Reed stretched out buck naked on his classroom floor, a trickle of my ball-slime leaking out of his inflamed fuck-hole. Not that I figured I’d really need them - I knew I had the man’s number now, he was a wimp - but, damn it, his butt was just so beautiful that I wanted to take some pics.
By the time Mr. Reed began to rouse himself, I’d already put my clothes back on and was sitting down on the floor watching him. When he saw me sitting there, he started to say some shit like, ‘I don’t know what just happened, but it can’t happen again,’ but I cut him off right away. "Just shut the fuck up and listen to me, Mr. Reed,” I told him, dropping any pretense of being some scared abused teenage boy. And then I laid it all out for him: how he’d had sex with a student which was bad enough, but the student was an underage seventeen-year-old boy and he was an adult and that made it statutory rape. It wasn’t just the loss of his job that he faced - it was doing major time in prison as a child molester and he knew what happened to men like that in prison. But even as I was waving the threat of major jail time over his head, I was also assuring him that none of this bad shit would happen, that nobody would find out that he’d had sex with me, as long as he agreed to play ball.
Mr. Reed looked so pathetic right then, still lying there stark naked on the floor, his ravaged asshole still leaking my ball-scuzz, just beginning to realize how totally fucked he really was. "What do you want?” he finally asked. "Money?"
“No,” I laughed at him. "I don’t want money. Not that I have anything against it and not that you won’t be providing me with some money in the future. What I want is you - as my fuck-bitch. As my personal sex-slave. As my private piece of male pussy. I want you as my whore, Mr. Reed. That's what I want. And that’s what you’re gonna give me because, to tell you the truth, Mr. Reed, you really don’t have any other choice.”
The look of stunned disbelief on his face was priceless. It was the exact look Everett had given me when I told him he was going to be my whore. Wimps are all alike, I guess. Anyway, I didn’t bother waiting for an answer. What was the point? We both knew he didn’t have any choice. I got to my feet and looked down at him. "Get dressed, bitch,” I ordered, putting him in his new place right off the bat. "I want to fuck that nice little pussy you’ve got between your legs again. And I want to do it in a bed - in your bed.”
There was a flicker of resistance in his eyes for just a fleeting moment but it was soon submerged in the same abject surrender to the inevitable I’d seen so often in Everett’s face. Wordlessly, he got up, put his torn clothes back on and then led the way out of the classroom. He was my bitch, now, and he knew it. I fucked Reed’s brains out that night, fucked him so badly he could hardly walk when I was done with him, and he had to call in sick the next day.
That was two months ago and there hasn’t been a single day since then when I haven’t fucked Reed at least a couple of times each day. And I’ve got to say, Reed’s got the greatest pussy, man or bitch, I’ve ever fucked. I just can’t get enough of it. I could bang that boycunt 24/7 for an entire year and not get my fill.
And Reed? Well, even I have to admit that Reed surprised me. It took him less than a week of hard corings to go from hating getting dicked to not being able to get enough of it. Everett, he was straight; but Reed turned out to be the biggest closet case imaginable. He's an incredible cock-whore now, which would be kind of disappointing if he wasn’t such a spectacular lay. However, just because he loves getting my big dick fed to him multiple times every day, it doesn’t mean that Reed is totally comfortable being my bitch. He hates drinking my piss for one thing, so of course I force him to guzzle it down at least once a day. And he hates getting spanked, too, so I never miss an opportunity to order him to crawl up on my lap and take a real hard ass-whipping. But what he really hates is how I go out of my way to embarrass him in public.
From the very start, I made him stop wearing underwear and start wearing skinny jeans and super-tight shorts. And since all I have to do to get him hard now is to look at him a certain way, his lectures in class have become an agony of embarrassment for him - particularly since he knows he’s not allowed to cover himself up in any way when he’s popping a bone. 'Mr. Hard-Reed’ is what all his students call him now, more than one to his face, which isn’t totally accurate. Reed has a relatively thick dick, not that he’ll ever be using it as a fuck-stick again.
But what I really enjoy doing is taking Reed for extended weekend walks in the nearby woods. Once we get deep enough inside the forest boundaries, I tell him to strip and then I do likewise and proceed to plow the crap out of his pussy, over and over again. Reed loves the fucking, of course, but he’s always nervous that we’re going to get caught and some of his students will see me fucking him. I tell him not to worry - after all I turned eighteen last month and I’m not a minor any more - but the truth is I enjoy his fear and embarrassment. It's what makes fucking him in a public setting even more enjoyable than screwing his pussy in the comfort of a bed.
I’ll be graduating in a couple of months and, after I do, I’m planning on moving in with Reed full-time. I'm not sure what I’m going to do career-wise, whether I want to go on to community college or get a job. But, either way, I know that Reed is going to be my fuck-bitch for the foreseeable future. He may be a wimp, but he’s a phenomenal fuck, too - and that, at least as far as I’m concerned, trumps being a wimp every time.