Weekend in Salou

I take off my underwear and slip on the tights. T-shirt. Running shoes.

My cock, thick and bulging, shows very clearly. I like it; I’m excited because I’m a fucking fag.

I leave the apartment and start running. I’m in shape and, with the excitement of the moment, I go very fast.

It’s hot and soon I start to sweat. I must arrive at my Master’s hotel soaked in sweat. I lengthen the route to fulfill that desire.

100 meters from the hotel, I stop and let my Master know. He gives me the go-ahead.

I enter the hotel decisively and go straight to the elevator. I couldn’t be hornier, more willing, more surrendered.

I go to the room and the door is ajar. I enter, close it, and undress. I push the bathroom door open with my head lowered and hear:

“Freeze!”

I only see bare crossed legs and his feet.

A few seconds pass. I feel watched.

“Turn around!”

A few more seconds pass.

“Stick your ass out and spread your cheeks!”

Finally:

“Do your job, cocksucker!”

I kneel and discover his thighs opening to accommodate my body between them and his hard, hairy cock.

My mouth, tongue out, licks his legs toward his testicles.

I hear a sigh and he tells me:

“Cut the fag shit! You and I want the same thing. All the way down and don’t stop!”

I take his cock inside all the way down. The glans opens my throat and goes beyond. The first gag that I tolerate well.

I use the fact that my face is in my Master’s lower belly to propel myself in the back-and-forth of the blowjob. I have orders not to touch my Master.

Tears start sliding from my eyes.

My Master grabs my head and forces me to lift my face. I look at him involuntarily and receive a slap.

“Don’t you dare!”

I close my eyes.

He spits in my face. He smears the saliva with his hand over my face and slaps me again. He puts two fingers from each hand into my mouth to open it and spits inside. Once, twice, three times...

“What a hungry fag...!”

And I keep sucking at a frantic pace.

And I keep receiving slaps.

And I keep swallowing spit.

I feel my Master’s sighs increasing. His panting. I’m thirsty. I need his cum. I feel the viscosity increasing inside my throat and mouth, and I notice the taste of semen.

I slow down.

But I don’t stop.

Nor do I swallow the cum. Part of it is already in my esophagus heading toward my stomach. But I hold the rest in my mouth. I’m a used slut and my Master hasn’t authorized me to swallow it.

I feel his hands again grabbing my head, separating it from his cock and lifting it.

“Open your mouth!”

He spits inside again.

“Swallow it all, bitch!”

I swallow it.

I stay there, in the bathroom, sitting...