Heads-up: It's a bit aggressive and has a lot of fake cum lube play.
I’m discreet—never fucked in person, just toyed online when I travel. It’s a ritual: I crowdsource gear requests on a burner phone—Snap, Skype, whatever—then order a haul off Amazon. Lately, Grindr’s been my vice, scoping locals on the down-low.
Tonight, I’m naked on my hotel bed, gear sprawled: plugs, dildos, fake cum lube, chastity cage, pup hood, ropes, a 10" ribbed suction dildo, a 12" knotted dragon toy. I’m mid-Grindr scroll when a couple pings me—same hotel, three floors down. They’re pushy.
"Show us," they type.
"Not yet," I reply. "Cam later—maybe."
They send pics—two ripped guys, cocks out. One’s uncut, thick; the other’s cut, veiny—both 8.5" like me. I’m caged, tail plug in, lube dripping.
"Spin," Uncut types. "Ass out."
I turn, tail wagging, hole slick—send a pic of my lower half, captioned "Good?"
"Wiggle," Cut replies.
I sway, tail brushing my thighs, lube trickling—snap a shot from the chest down.
"Stroke that cage," Uncut says.
I drag my fingers over it—slippery—cage glints. Pic sent, face out.
"Filthy pup," Cut types. "Truth or Dare—live."
"Alright," I reply, shaky. "Dare."
"Cage stays. Rub your nipples—slow."
I tease my nipples—soft jolts hit me. Pic sent—torso only, sweat glistens.
"Good slut," they say. "Truth."
"Ever double-teamed?" I ask.
"Loads," Cut types. "Last week, spit-roasted a twink till he was a wet mess."
"Hot. Truth."
"Meet-up virgin?" Uncut asks. "That stash screams whore."
"Just toys," I admit. "Fantasized plenty—wink."
=
"Tease. Dare."
"Cocks—hard—dripping."
They send pics—Uncut stroking slow, a bead of precum; Cut pumping fast, tip slick. My cage tightens.
"Dare," I type.
"Tail plug—deep. Add cum lube—messy."
I squirt a glob—white, thick—over it, shove it in—stretching, squelching, lube splattering my thighs. Pic sent—ass and legs only.
"Fuck yes," they reply. "Dare."
We trade—nipple rubs, me fucking a dildo, lube splashing—until I’m caged, plugged, jocked, dressed, hood under my hoodie, soaked in sweat. They dare me out.
"Bag your gear," Cut says. "Lobby. Pics."
I pack—dildos clinking, lube sloshing—head down. Lobby’s busy—suits, a clerk. I slink to a corner, tail shifting, jeans damp. Selfie—hooded torso, wet patch—sent.
"Vending area," Uncut says. "First floor. Loosen your jeans, flash the cage—quick. Text when done."
I head down—vending machines hum in a nook. A guy’s there; I wait till he’s gone. I unzip an inch, tug—cage glints—snap a pic from the waist down, zip up fast as footsteps echo. "Done," I text, fake-browsing, lube seeping.
"Outside," Cut says. "Block walk."
Thirty minutes—tail teasing, jeans sticking. Pics of my lower shadow, a slick streak on my leg—face out. Back in my room, I’m buzzing.
"Dare," I type, elevator dinging.
"1294," they say. "Photo our door."
My gut twists.
"Mmm," I stall.
"Now, pup," Uncut types.
Steps from my room, I turn back. Elevator—two strangers. I press 12, drop my phone—fuck—scramble, hood slipping. 15th floor, one exits. 12th, I’m out, legs shaky. Sign points right. I creep.
At 1292, I pull my pup hood—black, snouty, wet from my bag. No one. I slip it on, hoodie up—face hidden. 1294 looms. Phone out—a shuffle. Door flies open. Hands yank me in, slam it shut.
Clothes shredded—jock clings, bag thuds. I’m on my knees, carpet soft, lube dripping. Uncut towers, cock throbbing, tip glistening.
"I’m Truth," he says, low. He nods to the bed. "That’s Dare. You’re Boy."
Dare’s cut, sprawled, stroking—grinning, head slick.
"Door’s there," Truth says. "Play? Yes or nod."
I nod, drooling.
Truth rips the mouth flap off. "Knew you’d beg."
I open wide, tongue out, spit dripping. He slides his cock in—hot, salty—I suck, gagging, drool soaking my chin.
"Mmm," he groans. "Lick it—sloppy."
I lap the head, swirl, spit gushing.
"Good whore," Truth says, petting my hood.
"We’ll soak you," Dare says, off the bed.
"Suck it," Truth says. "Deep."
I grip his base, inching down—gagging at three-quarters. His hands cup my head.
"Breathe," he says. "Throat open."
He slides deeper—past it—I’m full, nose in his pubes. He thrusts—fifteen times, slow, drool dripping. He pulls out—slime strings.
"Ass up," Dare says.
I crawl to all fours, tail wagging, lube oozing. He pulls it—cum lube squirts.
"Jock off," he says—wet fabric drops.
"Sit," Truth says. "Show that cage."
I straighten—cage twitching. Truth teases my nipples.
"Edge him," Dare says, grabbing a vibrating wand and 50ml cum lube.
Dare squirts lube on my cage—thick, dripping. He presses the wand—low buzz—I moan, lube squelching. High—ten minutes, I’m writhing, cage slick.
"Throat," Truth says.
I kneel—Truth slides back in—fifteen thrusts, slime soaking. Dare grabs the 10" ribbed suction dildo—slaps it down, lubes it with 100ml cum lube.
"Ass," Dare says.
I lower onto it—ribs stretch, lube squirting—ten minutes, riding slow, creampie dripping.
"Ass up again," Truth says.
Truth grabs a 100ml cum lube launcher—slides it in, pumps—two shots—my ass overflows, dripping.
"Sloppy," Dare says.
"Fill him," Truth says, grabbing the ejaculating dildo—10", tubed.
He lubes it—200ml—shoves it in, pumps—fake cum floods—fifteen minutes, creampie soaking.
"Throat," Dare says.
I kneel—Dare slides in—fifteen thrusts, slime gushing, hood wet. Truth works the dildo—creampie drips.
"Break," Truth says, tossing a water bottle—I gulp, panting, lube dripping. Five minutes.
"Ass again," Truth says.
Truth slides in—fucks through the lube—fifteen minutes, creampie dripping. Dare throat-fucks—ten thrusts, slime soaking.
"All fours—center," Dare says.
I crawl—lube trailing. They Eiffel Tower me—Truth in my throat, Dare in my ass—twenty minutes, cum lube leaking, drool pooling.
"Cage off?" Truth says, dangling the key.
I nod. He unlocks—my cock springs free, tip wet.
"Stroke it," Dare says, squirting 100ml cum lube.
I jerk—five minutes, moaning—Truth stops me.
"Back in," he says, recaging—cock strains.
"Knot dildo," Dare says—9", 100ml cum lube.
I straddle—head stretches. "First knot," Dare says.
I grind—past it.
"Second," Truth says.
I rock—past it, full—ten minutes, creampie dripping.
"Knees," Dare says.
I rise—lube splashes. Truth cums—ropes hit my hood, dripping. Dare unloads—hot, over my chest—lube mixes with cum.
"Good pup," Truth says, tossing a wet towel.
He packs. Dare grabs the tentacle plug—lubed. "One last fill," he says, sliding it in—lube squirts. He pumps it a few times, then pulls it out—cum lube drips down my thighs.
"Done for tonight," Truth says, tossing my clothes—sopping.
"Fun?" Truth asks. "Text us."
I nod, hoodie up, hood off—lube soaks through my jeans. My room—a cum-lube mess. Phone buzzes.
"Not done," they say.
"?"
"Strip. Film your cum."
I uncage—cock explodes. Pumping—thirty seconds, I blast my chest—video sent, face out, just torso and cock.
I'm exhausted, but also getting a megadose of post-nut clarity: guilt, shame, digust, confusion. I collapse—lube seeping from the night’s load, sheets soaked. I pass out, sticky but unplugged.
The next morning I wake up. I check my phone "Good boy. Til next time." the wrote
"I'm in room 1589"
I’m discreet—never fucked in person, just toyed online when I travel. It’s a ritual: I crowdsource gear requests on a burner phone—Snap, Skype, whatever—then order a haul off Amazon. Lately, Grindr’s been my vice, scoping locals on the down-low.
Tonight, I’m naked on my hotel bed, gear sprawled: plugs, dildos, fake cum lube, chastity cage, pup hood, ropes, a 10" ribbed suction dildo, a 12" knotted dragon toy. I’m mid-Grindr scroll when a couple pings me—same hotel, three floors down. They’re pushy.
"Show us," they type.
"Not yet," I reply. "Cam later—maybe."
They send pics—two ripped guys, cocks out. One’s uncut, thick; the other’s cut, veiny—both 8.5" like me. I’m caged, tail plug in, lube dripping.
"Spin," Uncut types. "Ass out."
I turn, tail wagging, hole slick—send a pic of my lower half, captioned "Good?"
"Wiggle," Cut replies.
I sway, tail brushing my thighs, lube trickling—snap a shot from the chest down.
"Stroke that cage," Uncut says.
I drag my fingers over it—slippery—cage glints. Pic sent, face out.
"Filthy pup," Cut types. "Truth or Dare—live."
"Alright," I reply, shaky. "Dare."
"Cage stays. Rub your nipples—slow."
I tease my nipples—soft jolts hit me. Pic sent—torso only, sweat glistens.
"Good slut," they say. "Truth."
"Ever double-teamed?" I ask.
"Loads," Cut types. "Last week, spit-roasted a twink till he was a wet mess."
"Hot. Truth."
"Meet-up virgin?" Uncut asks. "That stash screams whore."
"Just toys," I admit. "Fantasized plenty—wink."
=
"Tease. Dare."
"Cocks—hard—dripping."
They send pics—Uncut stroking slow, a bead of precum; Cut pumping fast, tip slick. My cage tightens.
"Dare," I type.
"Tail plug—deep. Add cum lube—messy."
I squirt a glob—white, thick—over it, shove it in—stretching, squelching, lube splattering my thighs. Pic sent—ass and legs only.
"Fuck yes," they reply. "Dare."
We trade—nipple rubs, me fucking a dildo, lube splashing—until I’m caged, plugged, jocked, dressed, hood under my hoodie, soaked in sweat. They dare me out.
"Bag your gear," Cut says. "Lobby. Pics."
I pack—dildos clinking, lube sloshing—head down. Lobby’s busy—suits, a clerk. I slink to a corner, tail shifting, jeans damp. Selfie—hooded torso, wet patch—sent.
"Vending area," Uncut says. "First floor. Loosen your jeans, flash the cage—quick. Text when done."
I head down—vending machines hum in a nook. A guy’s there; I wait till he’s gone. I unzip an inch, tug—cage glints—snap a pic from the waist down, zip up fast as footsteps echo. "Done," I text, fake-browsing, lube seeping.
"Outside," Cut says. "Block walk."
Thirty minutes—tail teasing, jeans sticking. Pics of my lower shadow, a slick streak on my leg—face out. Back in my room, I’m buzzing.
"Dare," I type, elevator dinging.
"1294," they say. "Photo our door."
My gut twists.
"Mmm," I stall.
"Now, pup," Uncut types.
Steps from my room, I turn back. Elevator—two strangers. I press 12, drop my phone—fuck—scramble, hood slipping. 15th floor, one exits. 12th, I’m out, legs shaky. Sign points right. I creep.
At 1292, I pull my pup hood—black, snouty, wet from my bag. No one. I slip it on, hoodie up—face hidden. 1294 looms. Phone out—a shuffle. Door flies open. Hands yank me in, slam it shut.
Clothes shredded—jock clings, bag thuds. I’m on my knees, carpet soft, lube dripping. Uncut towers, cock throbbing, tip glistening.
"I’m Truth," he says, low. He nods to the bed. "That’s Dare. You’re Boy."
Dare’s cut, sprawled, stroking—grinning, head slick.
"Door’s there," Truth says. "Play? Yes or nod."
I nod, drooling.
Truth rips the mouth flap off. "Knew you’d beg."
I open wide, tongue out, spit dripping. He slides his cock in—hot, salty—I suck, gagging, drool soaking my chin.
"Mmm," he groans. "Lick it—sloppy."
I lap the head, swirl, spit gushing.
"Good whore," Truth says, petting my hood.
"We’ll soak you," Dare says, off the bed.
"Suck it," Truth says. "Deep."
I grip his base, inching down—gagging at three-quarters. His hands cup my head.
"Breathe," he says. "Throat open."
He slides deeper—past it—I’m full, nose in his pubes. He thrusts—fifteen times, slow, drool dripping. He pulls out—slime strings.
"Ass up," Dare says.
I crawl to all fours, tail wagging, lube oozing. He pulls it—cum lube squirts.
"Jock off," he says—wet fabric drops.
"Sit," Truth says. "Show that cage."
I straighten—cage twitching. Truth teases my nipples.
"Edge him," Dare says, grabbing a vibrating wand and 50ml cum lube.
Dare squirts lube on my cage—thick, dripping. He presses the wand—low buzz—I moan, lube squelching. High—ten minutes, I’m writhing, cage slick.
"Throat," Truth says.
I kneel—Truth slides back in—fifteen thrusts, slime soaking. Dare grabs the 10" ribbed suction dildo—slaps it down, lubes it with 100ml cum lube.
"Ass," Dare says.
I lower onto it—ribs stretch, lube squirting—ten minutes, riding slow, creampie dripping.
"Ass up again," Truth says.
Truth grabs a 100ml cum lube launcher—slides it in, pumps—two shots—my ass overflows, dripping.
"Sloppy," Dare says.
"Fill him," Truth says, grabbing the ejaculating dildo—10", tubed.
He lubes it—200ml—shoves it in, pumps—fake cum floods—fifteen minutes, creampie soaking.
"Throat," Dare says.
I kneel—Dare slides in—fifteen thrusts, slime gushing, hood wet. Truth works the dildo—creampie drips.
"Break," Truth says, tossing a water bottle—I gulp, panting, lube dripping. Five minutes.
"Ass again," Truth says.
Truth slides in—fucks through the lube—fifteen minutes, creampie dripping. Dare throat-fucks—ten thrusts, slime soaking.
"All fours—center," Dare says.
I crawl—lube trailing. They Eiffel Tower me—Truth in my throat, Dare in my ass—twenty minutes, cum lube leaking, drool pooling.
"Cage off?" Truth says, dangling the key.
I nod. He unlocks—my cock springs free, tip wet.
"Stroke it," Dare says, squirting 100ml cum lube.
I jerk—five minutes, moaning—Truth stops me.
"Back in," he says, recaging—cock strains.
"Knot dildo," Dare says—9", 100ml cum lube.
I straddle—head stretches. "First knot," Dare says.
I grind—past it.
"Second," Truth says.
I rock—past it, full—ten minutes, creampie dripping.
"Knees," Dare says.
I rise—lube splashes. Truth cums—ropes hit my hood, dripping. Dare unloads—hot, over my chest—lube mixes with cum.
"Good pup," Truth says, tossing a wet towel.
He packs. Dare grabs the tentacle plug—lubed. "One last fill," he says, sliding it in—lube squirts. He pumps it a few times, then pulls it out—cum lube drips down my thighs.
"Done for tonight," Truth says, tossing my clothes—sopping.
"Fun?" Truth asks. "Text us."
I nod, hoodie up, hood off—lube soaks through my jeans. My room—a cum-lube mess. Phone buzzes.
"Not done," they say.
"?"
"Strip. Film your cum."
I uncage—cock explodes. Pumping—thirty seconds, I blast my chest—video sent, face out, just torso and cock.
I'm exhausted, but also getting a megadose of post-nut clarity: guilt, shame, digust, confusion. I collapse—lube seeping from the night’s load, sheets soaked. I pass out, sticky but unplugged.
The next morning I wake up. I check my phone "Good boy. Til next time." the wrote
"I'm in room 1589"
