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Subject: breaking baker mayfield – 9 Disclaimer: This is a purely fictional story, but please do let me know if it does turn out to be non-fiction ;-P. i love to hear from all of you. xoxo – jasper proseinourdreams@ proseinourdreams.wordpress p.s. don’t forget to donate to fty/donate.html “Please… I… please… don’t do this… please… sir… I can’t… please… sir… I…” Baker was a blubbering mess, begging, pleading, crying… unable to stream a coherent thought or sentence together as the cop roughly pushed him outside towards the police Ford Explorer hidden behind the rest stop. The beeps that unlocked the SUV made the quarterback cringe, his stomach in knots and heart beating so fast the jock thought he’d pass out. In broad daylight but shielded from view of the highway, the cop slammed Baker, face first, against the side door. “UHGN! FUCK! GUHN!” Baker could see his own frightened reflection against the heavily tinted windows as he felt the cop’s muscular, hairy forearm press against the back of his neck. `You got any weapons on you, kid? Spread those legs.” “No… UGHN… no… sir… of course… UGHNN… not!” Baker felt a strong hand feeling him up, patting him down as the booted feet forcefully nudged apart each of Baker’s trembling legs. Baker grunted and gasped involuntarily, feeling the cop’s hand on his ass, rubbing both cheeks, kneading them. “UHGHN! UGHN!” “You enjoying this? Faggot whore.” Baker gasped and whimpered, feeling the cop roughly tear down his sweats and boxers, wincing when his still-turgid cock bounced against the SUV door. “Fuck kid… You got some ass on you, son…” The cop gave the quarterback’s meaty, muscular glutes a few, hard spanks, noting the increasingly girlish whimpers escaping the kid’s lips. Rubbing the smooth cheeks, digging his fingers into them, striking them, over and over, harder and harder… hearing the jock whore squeal and grunt and gasp and cry with every spank and strike. He pushed Baker past his pain tolerance, hearing the kid finally break down and sob… his entire body shaking and convulsing… his fat ass cheeks red with hand prints. The cop suddenly leaned into the quaking quarterback, running his hand through Baker’s lightly-hairy crack. “Faggot. You’re wet. You like getting manhandled like this? Your pussy’s. Is this what you do? Get wet for cops? Or you been whoring out that ass? “UGHN! UGHN! OW! UGHNN!! UGHNN!!” Baker shut his teary eyes tightly. He was so humiliated. So ashamed. So horny. He couldn’t make his hard on subside no matter how he tried. His wrists turned white in those tight, confining cuffs. “UGHN! UGHN! OW! UGHNN!! UGHNN!! OH FUCK! OH FUCK! OH FUCK! OH FUCK!!!!! UGHNN! UGHNN!! UGHNN! UGHNN!!!!!” Suddenly, Baker screamed at the top of his lungs. The pain of penetration. The intense, debilitatingly pleasurable agony of being used like this. The humiliating anguish of craving every bit of it… the stinging, the burning, the bursa evi olan escort feeling of fullness… feeling a hard rod probing brutally deep inside him, feeling it twist, snake, swirl inside… stretching him, hurting him, pleasuring him. The cop suddenly let go of Baker’s neck, stepping back and watching the kid’s entire body quiver and tremble, hearing his high-pitched whimpers, gasps as his empty ass quaked and jiggled and his legs nearly buckling. Cum was dripping out of Baker’s hole and down his thighs. Cum was dripping off of the length of the cops thick, long, black baton. “You whore… you got cum all over my club, faggot.” The cop threw Baker around, slamming his cuffed wrists and back against the SUV. The quarterback’s face was wet with sweat and tears, but flushed bright red. He was panting, his entire beefy body quivering, his toes flexing and curling uncontrollably in those sliders, his cock – angry red and hard, leaking a thick stream of precum. His eyes… at once filled with fear and lust and rage and hurt. “You liked it, didn’t you? You go get your ass bred all night and come turn more tricks here with that used hole?” “UGHN! UGHNN! UGHNN!!!!!” Before Baker could respond, not that he had any words or sense left in him, felt the cops strong hand around his throat. The cop held up his cum-covered black club to Baker’s face, relishing in the sight of the kid’s eyes water and his nostrils flare, seeing him bite his lower lips either in an attempt to contain his sobbing or to signal his darkest, most perverse desires. “Clean it up, whore.” The cop pressed the soiled baton tip against Baker’s lips. Without any more hesitation, the quarterback stuck out his tongue, tasting the baton, licking the acrid, night-old cum, smelling his own ass, sucking on the thickness of the club, devouring as much of it as he could and whimpering pathetically when it was ripped away. “Fuck… fuck… damn kid…” “UGHN! UGHN! OH FUCK! OH FUCK!!! OH FUCK!!!!!” Staring into the cops steely, emotionless eyes, Baker cried out again, feeling the cop lower that club between his legs again, feeling the saliva-covered night stick rub against his dripping cock, feeling the hard wet tip press against his tight balls, feeling it trace his greasy, cummy taint, feeling it find his worn hole, feeling it break his already broken seal once again, snaking upwards inside him once more. The more Baker felt the club inch inside his hole, the harder the man’s grip around his throat became. The quarterback’s eyes teared and teeth gritted… feeling the pain of intrusion, of penetration. “UGHN! UGHN! OH FUCK! OH FUCK!!! OH FUCK!!!!!” “God you’re such a little slut, little whore…” The man began seesawing his thick club into Baker, thrusting that night stick deeper into the quarterback with every upward thrust. Despite the kid’s pathetic screams, begging, and those watery and big, lust – or was it rage? – filled eyes, altıparmak escort there were no other physical signs of the boy actually wanting his abuse to stop. In fact, the kid had stepped out of his sweats and boxers, spreading his legs as wide as he could, practically squatting down to meet every assault of that thick, black club. “You nasty little hot piece of ass… squat… squat lower, come on… open up… open up more…” “UGHN! UGHN! OH FUCK! OH FUCK!!! OH FUCK!!!!! OH FUCK!!!! FUCK!!!!” Baker didn’t really have a choice, as the cop dragged Baker lower against the SUV by his throat. Cuffed, choked and stuck in a deep squat, the jock’s eyes rolled to the back of his eyes as the cop’s thick, black baton sudden hit a sweet spot deep inside his hole. The cop spotted Baker’s immediate reaction and began pounding that same spot over and over with the hard club. Faster, faster and faster… Baker struggled to maintain that deep squat, his muscular legs bulging and his long, dirty toes curled deep inside those sliders, riding a wave of anal pleasure as his clenched knuckles turned as white as his cuffed wrists behind his back. Fresh sweat stains formed on Baker’s hoody, on the chest, the pits, his back… veins bulged from the quarterback’s strangled neck, his cheeks flushed red and face wet with sweat, his arched body quaking uncontrollably as his six-inch cock leaked and bounced with every probe and prod. Baker could no longer distinguish his screams of pleasure from his screams of pain. “UGHNNNNNNNNNNN! GUHNNNNNNNNNNNN! UGHNNNNNNNNNNN!!!!!!!!!!! UGHNNNNNNN!!!!! GUHNN!!!! UGHN!NNN!! GUHNN!!!! UGHNNNNNNN!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!” The deep, swelling heat finally flooded Baker’s loins. Getting pounded in that one spot, over and over and over, harder and harder, getting choked out, his ass cheeks flexing as that wet, used jock hole desperately gripped onto every inch of that police club, his legs burning in that low squat position… the inevitable, overwhelming deluge of indescribable and violent pleasure finally overtook the quarterback. It began with ropes and ropes of jock cum erupting onto the cop’s arms and chest, but when the cop refused to stop fucking him with that night stick, refused to stop hitting that sweet spot inside his hole, refused to stop choking him, Baker felt his entire inside spasm outwards, overflowing with swirls and swirls of uncontainable hot heat. His sweaty body was convulsing wildly with a shockingly foreign pleasure, one completely out of his control or understanding. He felt like he was cumming forever, riding an unending orgasm that surged on after his balls were emptied and dried. … What ensued was a complete blur for Baker. When he snapped to consciousness, the quarterback found himself in the driver seat of his own car, with the sun nearly setting and episodic pieces of memory shooting back into his consciousness here and there… Getting hoisted up on his bursa merkez escort feet, stumbling and looking up to see the rear door of police SUV slowly opening. Rubbing his sore wrists, memories of the cop uncuffing him… Somehow he was stripped naked… his arms stretched wide apart, cuffed again… feeling the roughness of the cuffs that bound him to the inside of the hatch of the SUV… arms stretched above his head… Looking up at the ceiling… Something familiar was shoved inside his mouth… his boxers. The sounds of another car pulling up. Another voice. Then another. And another. Baker wished he’d remember it. Wondering if it was anything like… like what the cop had done to him… The quarterback sat in the driver seat of his car, in just his baseball cap and sweatpants, which was torn on one leg and at the crotch. No hoody, boxers or sliders. His muscular torso was at once greasy with sweat and cum and spit and crusty with dried seat and cum and spit. His nipples were sore and swollen, his mouth dry and salty and acrid. His hole… gaping… wet… devastatingly empty… bruised… used… unsatisfied. Flashes of strangers’ faces atop his own. Seeing his own meaty legs spread wide in the air, his large feet and toes clinging onto the side of the hatch. Wetness. Hotness. Stickiness. Pain. Pleasure. Restraint. Cries. Screams. Penetration. Rape. Cum. Pleasure. More cum. Endless pleasure. Baker suddenly remembered the feeling of a man’s thick waist, which he’d wrapped his muscular legs around. Or the stink of another man’s hairy ass, lowering onto his face. Suffocating him. Seeing his own feet… toes curled and dangling over a man’s shoulders as the rest of his beefy body slammed against his abuser. Was there cheering? Taunting? Jeering? Seeing his feet, one in each hand of a stranger, spreading his legs wider and wider apart. The unmistakable sounds of balls slapping against ass, his own ass. Of feeling a man’s cock slamming deeper inside his worn hole. Of hearing his desperate, hoarse squealing when his boxers were ripped out of his mouths. Of the humiliating sensation of biting down on that cummy baton, lengthwise like a dog, while his sweaty back arched off the scruffy carpet material of the hatch. Of sweat dripping down on him. Of sweat dripping off of him. Of mouths, hands… of cocks… on his lips and in his mouth… In his throat. Of the sounds of fucking. Pure animalistic fucking. Grunting. Moaning. Screaming. Breeding. Cumming. So much cum. But Baker couldn’t remember exactly… He couldn’t remember how it felt… how it all felt… He wanted to feel… to feel the cocks inside him… to feel the cocks erupting inside him… to remember all the perverse things the men were shouting at and whispering to him… to remember the pain they’d inflicted on him… To know how many there were… how long he was there… on his back… his legs and feet spread in the air… his cock spewing jock cum everywhere… again adn again… his ass open… gaping… wet… dripping… for more cock. More. More. More. He just wanted to remember. … A message popped up on his phone from an unknown number : “You put on hell of a show, kid. Or should I call you Baker Mayfield?” To be continued… More ail

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