Can't Hold Back (1)
"Ughhh..."
After yesterday's intense lower body workout, I come home and collapse into bed for a nap. Sure, I'm tired, but not so exhausted that I sleep straight through to morning. I get up quickly, play some games like nothing happened, and crash again. When I woke up then, my legs were just a little stiff—nothing like the sharp pain from before. Feeling relieved, I enjoy my games with a relaxed mind and drift off to sleep.
"Huuuuaaaah..."
The next morning, I wake up to a vivid hell. I just shift a bit in bed, but my frail legs can't even handle that. Thinking the pain will pass quickly, I calm down a little and try to swing them over the edge to stand. But my leg muscles scream in agony, far worse than before, slamming the torment straight into my brain. That's how I end up like this—flopped back on the bed, legs trembling uselessly, unable to move an inch.
I lie there until the muscle soreness eases a bit, then prop myself up. Once more. I calm down, stand, hobble to the chair—agony strikes again. Each time, I clutch my legs and groan in pain.
"Fuuuck, that hurts..."
A prickling pain slips out curses I didn't mean to say. I sit in the chair again, firing up the computer while waiting for it to subside. Looks like I'm stuck here today, not stepping foot anywhere. So, no choice but to game. The soreness makes not just workouts but even going outside impossible. What, you say just research something else? Nah, that's fine for now. Meaning today, it's okay to game. Because I say so.
"Ahhh..."
I dive into games, letting out occasional pained groans devoid of any thrill.
How long have I been gaming? Ate lunch after some rounds, more gaming, dinner, more gaming... Probably around eleven hours? [10:24] Yeah, that explains why I'm getting tired and my eyes feel dry and gritty. Even if this body's never been pushed before, it doesn't have some superhuman fatigue resistance. That's enough for today.
"Hup—cha!"
I shuffle my slightly improved legs back to bed. Somehow, I really didn't leave the house once today, but hey, isn't that just the NEET life? I rationalize it away and flop onto the bed, grabbing my phone like always.
And today... I crave porn. Yeah. Dirty videos. That's it.
I hit up my usual site. Just typing one English letter in the search bar brings up autocomplete—proof of how much I've used it. The familiar black-background page loads right up. The pointless "Are you an adult?" button pops first thing. Of course I'm an adult, so I click it proudly. Even back when I wasn't, I clicked it proudly, but whatever.
I get out of bed, grab my gear, and head to the bathroom. Tonight might be a long one.
After emptying my guts quick, I start searching the site. Tags for my situation today: ANAL. And... BBC. First one's obvious for the back door, second's the acronym for big black cock. How do I know? After seven years hunting smut without trying, it's basic knowledge. Probably every horny young guy in Korea who's wandered the same paths knows it.
Anyway, time to set up. Setup for what? ...Masturbation prep, duh.
Excitement building, body buzzing, I prep diligently. I stick a small dildo to the back wall with its suction cup. On the front sink, the proudly BBC-sized black dildo.
I turn around, tear open the rubber vitamins—condoms. Kneel down, eye-level with the dildo. Bite the condom wrapper just right, then...
"Hup."
I slide it on with my mouth. The condom's tip hits the massive glans. Pushing with my lips unrolls it, sheathing the dildo. My mouth fills with the condom-covered toy.
"Mmph—puha..."
Now familiar with the size, I push the condom all the way to the base and spit it out. It's wrapped, strawberry-scented over silicone, slick with my spit. My mouth feels thick from it. Taste? Rubber mixed with strawberry condom—weird, not food-like, something you'd never want to eat. But paradoxically, that alien sensation reminds me I'm doing something truly filthy, making me hornier.
I stand, turn back, assume position. Two rigid dildos, one front, one back. So fucking hot.
Around now, I start the video.
*Slurp—schlurp.*
I crank the porn audio, no holding back. The bathroom echoes with filthy sounds. On screen, the actress devours the huge cock in front of her like it's delicious, sucking with devotion.
I match her pose, one hand on the dildo, the other on my pussy, starting to masturbate.
"Hauu. Mmph."
This dildo's easily twice the girth of the one I mouthed earlier. Firm inside, soft skin-like silicone outside, stuffing my mouth full. Side-eye the screen: she's taking it deeper, throat-fucking herself devotedly. I follow, pushing further.
"Glrk. Gulk..."
The fat glans burrows deep into my throat. Then it seals even the tiniest breath gap—air cuts off. I snort desperately, but the blocked passage starves me of oxygen.
But I don't stop. Porn often shows guys skull-fucking, grabbing heads to hold 'em down. Sure, this is my choice, but imagining force? Being made to take it against my will? Hot as hell.
Throat working hard, other hand rubbing pussy—then limit hits. I spit it out.
"Gehk. Krhk. Puha..."
It pops out reflexively; I gasp for blocked air. Tears well from holding breath and throat-pounding. The spit-soaked dildo dangles like the one behind me.
But not enough. I back up to the rear dildo, ass bumping it. Not time to insert yet... wanna suck more.
Lately, I'm hooked on this. Service fantasy? Or just satisfying the size orally? Either way, I love it now. Before wrecking my ass, one more suck. Solo this time.
Video's midway through rough sex; I pause. Pull my ass back, drawing the rear dildo inward. It slips between thighs, pressing my most secret spots and pussy. Still warm from my mouth, the heat on inner thighs sparks fresh thrill.
While wiggling hips, "Hauwb. Gulk."
Swallow it to the throat in one go.
"Kek. Hng. Krhk."
Tears flow again, throat blocked. The choking discomfort paradoxically heightens everything, amps the filth.
Meanwhile, hips grind nonstop, rubbing absolute territory and pussy raw. Hot sensation and juices overflow from my pussy, long teased to the edge.
Held-back pleasure surges; instinctively, my right hand thrusts. The dildo spears deeper than ever, intense pressure and bliss igniting the pent-up orgasm crashing like a dam burst over my body.
"...!!!"
At climax, legs clamp, gripping the dildo tight. Juices gush splurt onto it. Mirror would show an ugly, orgasm-twisted face—total mess—but even then, mouth and hand won't release. Like being forcibly held...
"Kehk. Khek. Puha... haaa..."
Only as it calms do I spit it out, gulping air. Look up: my face, slack in slutty bliss.
But my body's alive with energy, heat screaming don't stop. I grab the juice-drenched dildo again.