SPH-THEMED EROTICA STORIES

I had always considered myself straight. That is, until a short while after I turned nineteen, when I began to question this firmly held belief.

Up until that point, I had never had any sexual thoughts towards any men, real or imaginary. I had only a couple of sexual encounters under my belt. The first was with a high school girlfriend, whom I dated until I was eighteen, and the second was with a friend I made later at university.

Sex with my girlfriend had been regular, and I’d enjoyed every minute of it. Still, after finishing school and our chosen universities separating us across the country, we decided to end the relationship amicably. Moving on from that had been difficult, as I lacked the self-confidence to strike up another relationship.

Several things have made me self-conscious over the years. I’m short, standing at about five feet five inches, and I’ve never been able to build enough muscle to compensate for my small frame. I’ve remained skinny and small my entire life, and even when trying to bulk up, the best that I’ve managed is for my ribs to stop showing. Most of my features border on feminine. My bum is a little curvier than I’d like, and the sides of my body curve in a little, giving me a distinctly womanly frame from behind.

I’ve been described as ‘pretty’ more times than I can remember, but I could count on one hand the number of times I’ve been called ‘handsome’. I can barely grow facial hair, and what little I do takes about two weeks to appear, leaving my face completely smooth year-round. I’m incredibly pale and can barely manage a tan. I mostly just get burned if I try.

Listing these off, they don’t sound like inherently negative qualities, but for a young man growing up alongside muscular, hairy, broad-shouldered friends, it was pretty tough to feel confident.

And to add the final shameful touch to everything, I have an incredibly small penis. It’s about one inch from my body when soft, skinny, and tiny, and it only doubles in size to two inches at my hardest. I’ve always had to keep my pubic hair trimmed to an almost clean shave; otherwise, it would just get lost.

My girlfriend and I were each other’s firsts, and although I’m sure she would have been disappointed with what she had found, she masked it well throughout our relationship. The second person I ever slept with, a classmate from university, had been less kind about it.

We were both quite drunk the night that we slept together. She had been flirting with me for weeks, and only in my tipsy state did I finally feel the confidence to flirt back. Eventually, we ended up back at her place. When she finally revealed my hard little two inches in all of its glory, she held a hand up to her mouth and stifled a laugh.

I would have expected to have been completely humiliated in that moment, and I was, but instead of shattering me, it strangely turned me on. We ended up fucking, only the once, and after that, everything kind of fizzled back to a strange kind of friendship.

That would have been the start of my humiliation kink, or at least the start of me beginning to understand that I had one. Over the coming weeks and months, I began to discover a great deal more about myself.

Whilst at uni, I took a job working at an adult toy/DVD store. It was situated way out in a fairly dodgy part of town, but I had a car, and it didn’t bother me. I found the job online, and the evening hours suited my class schedule, and the pay was slightly above that of more typical jobs near where I lived. What attracted me most to it was its difference. It was a little weird, and even a bit gross at times, but it appealed to me far more than working in a bar or restaurant at the same rate of pay.

The job was also dead easy and mostly quiet. I manned the counter, stocked the shelves, rang up customers, and had plenty of downtime to fuck around on my phone or catch up on study. The customers would always keep a low profile and avoid interacting with you more than necessary, except for a few of the older, more eccentric regulars.

These old guys would come in pretty frequently, mostly for DVDs and the odd sex toy. When I first started, I found it kind of surprising how many DVDs the place stocked. In the age of online porn, I kind of figured that industry would have died out. However, I soon discovered that a niche customer base was still thriving.

It was these older DVD collectors who were the most likely to come up and have a chat. They would hang around, finding excuses to talk, and mostly just flirting. At first, I found it off-putting, but over time, I kind of found myself being flattered by it, albeit reluctantly. It was pretty obvious that these guys were interested in me, and it was almost like they were filling a hole in my life left by the absence of such equivalent attention from women. So I’d let them have their fun, maybe even sometimes admittedly flirting back myself, but I never really had any interest in them.

The same could be said for my boss Brian. He was late fifties, short, but still a little taller than me, and a big guy: broad shoulders, a big beer gut, and a hairy chest and arms. Built like a barrel, you could describe him as what I now know is called a ‘bear’.

Openly gay, Brian liked to flirt and make comments at me, but he knew that I was straight and wouldn’t ever really cross any lines. He’d smoke weed a lot while at work, always out the back, coming in reeking of it. Whenever he was high, I’d find his attention lingering on me. It never unnerved me; it was easy to ignore, but sometimes I’d find myself enjoying it, a strange feeling that I tried to push away.

I never smoked weed with him. I did enjoy doing it myself, but I’m a lightweight, and it would be too hard for my job when stoned. I also, for as long as I can remember, found that I get uncontrollably horny when I’m high. Working in an adult store would make for a dangerous combination.

In addition to the surroundings, DVDs, posters, and toys, I also had to deal with the three TVs mounted in each corner of the store. Throughout the night, and the few day shifts that I occasionally worked, they would play an endless stream of porn, looping the DVD if it wasn’t changed over.

When Brian was working, he would select what appeared on the screen. The DVD player was found in his office behind the front desk, and he would flick through his collection of hardcore movies. The majority of these were straight porn, given that Brian obviously wanted to tailor to the majority clientele, but now and again, he would put some gay porn on, and I’d find myself drawn to watching it.

I didn’t really have a choice; from my spot at the main desk and register, there was a screen in just about every direction. The sound was always kept low on the TVs, but there was also a speaker linked up behind the desk so I could hear the movies at a low volume.

If I had a shift working without Brian, I’d go into his office and put on something tame and non-distracting. But on those days, if Brian ever paid an unexpected visit, he would go into his office and immediately switch it over to hardcore man-on-man video.

Then one day, a few months into my job, he put on something that I had never seen before. It was a type of video known as a ‘sissy trainer’, or a ‘sissy hypnosis’. At the time, I’d never seen anything like it: the flashing spirals, the text on the screen, the close-ups of women holding their mouths open, pools of cum on their tongues.

I found it really hard to look away, a weird kind of excitement taking hold of me. To make it worse, even when I wasn’t looking at the screen, the speaker behind me carried all of the audio to my ears. Soothing voices, rhythmic music, urging me to swallow cum.

This became a regular thing for Brian, especially when the shifts were quiet. The videos would come on, sometimes familiar, sometimes new, and I’d struggle to ignore them.

Eventually, I found myself searching for them at home. It happened one time when I was high. I’d been hanging out with friends and had gotten home still stoned. I smoked another joint and jumped onto my laptop to find some porn. After about fifteen minutes, I realized that nothing I was looking at was scratching my itch. And then it came to me like a weird burst of inspiration.

I ended up going down a rabbit hole that night, finding all sorts of intense videos that I had never seen before. When I finally came while watching one, on my knees over my laptop, staring at the screen with my headphones on, I felt the most intense wave of shame I had ever experienced.

I tried to forget it, to push it out of my head, but within a week I was back at it. The shame and embarrassment forgotten, I would lose myself in those videos, the illusion only breaking when I came.

But still, I didn’t stop, and soon I was watching them multiple times a week. The ones that I would keep going back to were the cum eating trainers. Hours of videos, compilations of beautiful women taking cum into their mouths and swallowing it down, all while a soft, encouraging voice over the video urged you to do the same.

It didn’t take long before I found myself wanting, needing, to try it. But the problem that I had was that whenever I came, the moment that the orgasm finished, I would lose any interest in the pool of cum that I had just spilled into my hand.

And then I finally figured out a solution. By edging myself, sometimes for days at a time, I realized I could start to cum without actually having an orgasm. If I were careful, if I stroked and stopped at just the right pace, I would leak a small puddle into my hand without being overcome by that instant clarity that hits when finishing cumming.

And so, I did it. Kneeling in front of my laptop, I watched the video on the screen, my heart racing, as I listened to the voice in my ear warning me that once I did this, there would be no turning back. Once I swallowed cum, I would be a slut forever.

I remember thinking that the taste was amazing. I had expected to be disgusted, but the moment it hit my tongue, my taste buds lit up. Salty, tangy, the smell and taste of it wrapping around my brain. The video was still going, the voice in my ears telling me how good I was, how well I was doing. And then I swallowed, and as I felt it slide down my throat, I came uncontrollably.

I had been bracing myself for that wave of shame as my brain returned to normal, but it didn’t come. I felt amazing, I felt like I had unlocked something inside of myself. I loved the taste of cum.

This went on for months, and before long, any lingering doubts or shame that I had in my mind just grew quieter and quieter until they were barely a whisper. It became a regular occurrence for me, the addictive rush that I got pushing me further and further, until before long I was able to swallow my cum even after having an orgasm.

I realized that what I was doing was probably rewiring my brain, and probably not for the better, but I just couldn’t bring myself to care. I’d have moments of doubt and regret, but they usually only lasted hours, and then I’d find myself turning back to my new self.

I got more into sissy porn, femboys, and traps, seeing myself reflected in the screen. I realized that my body type was perfect for this, and the strange sense of desirability that came with this was empowering. I started shaving my armpits, legs, and pubic hair, leaving myself hairless from the neck down. With my short-cropped blonde hair and eyebrows, the only hair left on my body, I decided that this wasn’t enough and started using a hair removal cream that cleared them away at the roots.

None of my friends even noticed this. I usually wore jeans or chinos, and since my face was usually smooth anyway, nothing about them was different. But I felt as though I was walking around with an exhilarating secret hidden beneath my clothes.

It was around this time that I began to discover my exhibitionist kink. It started in chat rooms, where I would talk with strange, unknown older men. Letting them convince me to get naked in front of them, showing them my smooth body, and masturbating for them. Every new step that I took just pushed my boundaries further, and I felt like I needed to search out a new thrill only days after crossing my last threshold.

The attention that I got from these men was addictive. I still didn’t consider myself gay, but I was coming to terms with the fact that I was very likely bisexual. I didn’t feel any physical attraction towards these men, nor did I ever have any romantic feelings about men in general, but the sexual energy that I gained from their attention was intense.

Seeing these men lusting after me on the screen, hearing their urging words and encouragement, was intoxicating. I especially loved it when they would comment on how small my penis was. They would use all kinds of humiliating terms, like dicklet, little prick, and clitty. I quickly came to love this sense of humiliation and would feel the most amazing rush when someone would laugh openly at the size of my little cock.

I realized that I could never get this kind of attention so freely, openly, and reliably from women, and it kept me coming back for more. Finally, I realized I needed to experience this in person. And I knew exactly how to do it.

When my girlfriend and I had been dating, we had once gone to a nude beach while visiting another city. It had felt like a risky and exciting adventure, but upon arrival, the reality was disappointing. We had found the beach packed with older men, all staring at us as we made our way across the beach. Some had even stood out in the open, fully erect, gazing around at us. We had stayed for all of five minutes, not taking off a single item of clothing before leaving.

This was what I had been craving without even realizing. The opportunity to exhibit myself in front of a ready and willing crowd of strangers, if I could muster up the courage. I remember going online and searching for nudist beaches in the area, opening dozens of tabs, and reading through them all. I reviewed the reviews, photos, forums, and threads, absorbing as much information as possible.

There were three within driving distance of where I lived. Two were fairly popular and well-known, often drawing large crowds on weekends. But one of them, the perfect beach, was less popular. Multiple reviews listed it as an ‘unofficial gay beach’, a spot visited only by men and rumored to be a hook-up spot given the dense trees and bushes that surrounded it.

I had no interest in a hook-up spot, but a beach full of strange men sounded like the perfect opportunity for me to indulge in my exhibitionist and humiliation kinks. And so early one morning, I went out there.

The beach was a short drive from a larger, more popular beach in the area. You had to head up and away from that beach, going almost into the nature reserve to find the car park. From there, you would head down a steep and winding path before reaching the sand. It was completely sheltered from view, big bushy headlands wrapping in on either side. The stairs down to the beach ended midway, with a step right onto the sand. To the right, rocks spread out along one side of the beach, and at the end of the rocky area, a small path led into the bushes.

On my first visit, I recall reaching the bottom of the stairs and feeling a sudden chill. It was early sunrise, and I had kind of hoped that I would be alone, so I could work up the nerve to go ahead with my first act of public nudity. But arriving on the sand, I saw three other men, already naked, lying out on towels spaced out across the beach.

They all looked to be no younger than fifty, all splayed out on their towels, large cocks and heavy balls out on show. I looked over at the rocks and saw plenty of flat spots along the back. It formed a walkway from the beach to the nature trail at the end, with the ocean on one side and a steep slope with overhanging trees on the other.

I decided that the rocks would be the best place to set up. It would give me some space from the others on the beach so I wouldn’t have to talk to them if I didn’t want to, and it would buy me time to think, to work up the nerve to get naked.

I made my way over to the rocks, walking past two of the three men on the sand. I was dressed in running clothes and had a pair of sunglasses on so I could keep my head forward while glancing to the side as I walked past. I remember seeing one of the men had a black band tightly circling his cock and balls, and I had never seen anything like that before. Over my many visits to this beach, I realized that this wasn’t as unusual as I had first thought.

I saw them both turn to follow me with their eyes, not even trying to be subtle as I walked past. I climbed up onto the rocks and walked almost the whole way down to where the nature trail started before dropping my bag and laying out my towel.

My heart was racing as I sat there. I had never felt so nervous in my life as I tried to mentally prepare myself for what I was about to do. Every time I glanced over to the beach, I’d see at least one of them looking over at me, quickly turning away when they saw my head move in their direction.

I ended up kicking off my shoes and socks and then sitting there, paralyzed with excitement and anxiety for a while. I finally pulled out a book and sat there, still clothed, pretending to read as I tried to psyche myself up.

I’d peek out the side of my sunglasses to catch them staring freely at me when they thought I wasn’t looking. Each time I’d see one of them staring in my direction, I’d get the most intense surge of adrenaline and excitement. I realized that I needed that final push, and I smoked a joint, still pretending to read.

I set myself a deadline. As soon as the joint was finished, I had to stand up, strip naked, and walk down to the water, no matter what. The finality of my own decision was frightening and exciting, and I sat there, slowly getting more stoned, feeling my horniness build up inside of me, watching it burn down to the end.

When it was finally done, and I took the last puff, I quickly got to my feet, not wanting to give myself the chance to back out. I glanced over at the beach and saw all three watching me, then turned my back and pulled off my shirt. Dropping it on the ground, I pulled down my pants and kicked them onto the pile.

I had this intensely memorable moment of giddy excitement standing there. I was completely naked out in public for the first time in my life. I had my back to a group of men, and as soon as I turned around, they were going to see everything. I still had my sunglasses on, and as I turned towards the beach and started walking, I looked up to see them all staring at me openly.

I felt for a second like I was about to pass out. My heart was thundering in my chest, and I could feel my legs shaking as I walked carefully across the rocks. My limp little dicklet was bouncing in front of me, resting on top of my perfectly smooth little balls, bobbing up and down with each step. And they were getting to see everything.

It’s amusing to me how, even now, after everything else I’ve gone through, this still stands out in my mind as an intensely memorable and exciting experience. My first time being seen naked by a man in person, my first time walking openly naked in public, my tiny cock on show to anyone who wanted to look.

I made my way down to the beach and headed straight for the water, quickly making my way in to hide my body. I remember the water being intensely cold; it was still early in the morning, and my already tiny cock shriveled as I went in.

I swam for a few minutes, mostly treading water and bobbing up and down in the tiny waves. I knew that I was going to have to walk out again, present my body to them on the way out of the water, and the thought terrified and excited me.

As much as I was dreading the experience of having to leave the water and present myself to them again, I knew that once it was done, I’d be immediately craving it again. Against my better judgment, I let myself drift down the length of the beach, over to the far side, away from my clothes. And then, mustering my courage, I stepped out of the water.

The effects of the frigid water were showing clearly, and my tiny cock was sticking out like a little nub as I began walking back down the length of the beach. With my sunglasses on, I could bow my head a little, making it look like I was staring at the ground in front of me while I peered over at the watching men.

Each of them openly stared, taking in the entirety of my slow, humiliating walk back along the beach. I found myself half-dreading, half-hoping that one of them would call out, start talking to me, and force me to stop and prolong my exposure. I couldn’t tell if I was relieved or disappointed when none of them did.

After what felt like an eternity of slowly walking, feeling my little cock bouncing with each step, I finally made it back to my clothes. Quickly toweling myself off, I got dressed and left the beach, my heart still racing from the experience.

For a short while, it felt as though I had finally scratched that itch and gotten it out of my system. But it didn’t take long before I found myself back there, my insatiable need to be exposed pulling me back over and over again.

I would go on different days and at different times, each visit offering me a new opportunity and a new audience to reach. Even at the busiest times, there were rarely more than seven or eight people down on the beach, and I could always find a private spot away from the crowd to sit and wait. I’d carefully watch the others, gauging their interest, seeing if they were watching me, wondering what might be under my clothes, before finally standing up and revealing myself completely.

The initial rush of undressing for the first time never got old for me. Always keeping my sunglasses on, I glanced over to see the attention of the crowd turn towards me as my slender body was revealed to them. The best moments were when I’d walk across the beach and catch someone openly staring between my legs, a smile on their face as they watched my tiny cock bounce up and down.

 

 

On a few occasions, two or more men at the beach would head down across the rocks before disappearing into the nature trail and around the corner. I could easily guess what went on in there, but despite my curiosity, I had never worked up the courage to go and see that part of the beach. What I did enjoy, however, was that to get to the trail, they would have to walk past me. I would be lying out on my towel, naked and displayed as they strode past, never failing to look down between my legs at my little smooth cock and balls presented to them.

It was only after I had visited about a dozen times that someone spoke to me for the first time. Even with the sporadic nature of my visits, I did start to recognize some familiar faces after a while. There were always a couple of men who seemed to be there every day, spending hours upon hours stretched out on the sand, or patrolling the shoreline.

One such man, whose name I never knew, stood nearly a foot taller than I. He was skinny, and his body bore the signs of someone who had once been in peak physical condition, but age had stripped him of his muscular build. I would have guessed he was in his late fifties or early sixties, with greying hair and silver mixed in with his dark chest hair. His entire body was bronzed from his endless days in the sun, and his long, thin cock hung with a slight bend to the left, swinging as he walked, completely devoid of hair.

I’d often see him either lying out on the sand or pacing back and forth along the water’s edge. On one morning, I had arrived early, and the sun was just cresting over the headland. He was the only one on the beach, and I had walked past him on my way to my favorite spot without him acknowledging me.

After watching the sunrise and smoking a joint, feeling my slightly stoned mind begin to let out the familiar ripples of horniness and excitement, I stripped and began slowly making my way down to the water.

Even before glancing over, I could feel his eyes on me as I carefully stepped over the rocks and down towards the sand. Giving a once glance to confirm that he was looking, I made my way into the water and let myself float along for a few moments. I didn’t look back to see if he was watching, but let myself drift down to the far end again, prolonging my eventual walk back to my clothes. It was only when I left the water and glanced back in his direction that I saw him standing at the water’s edge.

I remember my heart leaping a little, realizing that he was now standing directly between me and my clothes, and that I had no choice but to walk right past him. But before I could take my first step, he began walking down the beach towards me. My heart was thundering in my chest as I started walking back towards my clothes, keeping my head down a little but peering towards him through my sunglasses.

I could see his cock swinging with each step, almost matching in time the little bounces of my prick as I walked towards him. I had planned to give him a quick nod as I walked past, but he stopped a few feet from me and said, “Beautiful morning, isn’t it?”

I instantly froze to the spot, almost taken over by my polite instincts. I stood there and agreed, returning the greeting.

He wasn’t wearing sunglasses, and I could watch his eyes move from my face down to my cock and just hold the gaze silently for a moment. I remember standing there stupidly, just waiting for him to talk. Being seen this close up, I had this intense instinct to cover myself, but I just stood there with my arms by my side.

And then he started chatting to me. About the weather, about swimming, about nothing of importance or interest. But the whole time I remained frozen to the spot, almost like he was keeping me there. And then, slowly, steadily, he started to get hard.

I noticed his cock starting to twitch, and then gradually, so steadily, it just started to rise. Whilst he was talking, he had shuffled a few steps closer to me, and his cock was lifting between us, barely an inch away from my body. Whilst I was stealing glances through my sunglasses, he was just talking to me the whole time while I meekly responded.

I had not expected this at all, and the whole scenario was making my heart race in my chest, and my legs feel a little weak. The nonchalant way he was just speaking to me while he got hard was intensely exciting, and I found it really hard to look away to the point that I’m sure he was noticing. He was circumcised, and the head of his cock was pretty much shining in the sun as he reached full mast.

And then, completely against my will, and with a massive surge of shame, I felt myself getting hard. I tried to concentrate on something else, to will myself to stay limp, but my little prick was quickly stiffening, and in a few short seconds, I was at full mast as I stood there talking to him. Even completely hard, I was still only about two inches long, whereas his much longer cock was pretty much bridging the gap between us, wobbling over mine and threatening to make contact with my stomach.

I realized I needed to get out of this humiliating situation before I gave him any ideas, but before I could make my getaway, I heard voices coming down the stairs.

We were standing at the midpoint of the beach, right where the stairway ended onto the sand, and I was stuck frozen to the spot as two more men entered the beach. They looked to be in their forties or fifties and stopped and stared at the sight of the two of us standing naked and erect on the water’s edge.

Something about the embarrassment and strangeness of the situation was so unexpectedly exciting. The addition of two clothed men to witness my shameful display made me feel almost dizzy with arousal and kept me rooted to the spot. We spoke for another minute or two while the new arrivals laid out their towels and began to undress, until I finally mustered my voice and made up an excuse to leave.

As I moved forward to walk past him, he turned slightly, leaning in, and the head of his cock just briefly grazed against my body. I remember this intense tingle rippling through me, starting at the point of contact and shooting up to my brain. It was the smallest thing, but this man’s cock had just made contact with my naked body, and it thrilled me in a completely unexpected way.

I had a painfully slow and self-conscious walk back to my towel and clothes, my stiff prick bouncing out in front of me for all to see. When I finally made it back, I quickly dressed and left the beach, keeping my head down and avoiding anyone’s gaze.

Of course, within a few days, I was back there. My initial shame at the situation had turned into a longing for the situation to repeat itself. I had no idea what I really wanted out of this, or whether I wanted things to progress; I just knew I was addicted to the feeling and the rush of excitement I felt each time.

Over the next few trips, I didn’t see that man again, but I did see another person whom I recognized. This one stood out quite a bit, as he would always remain clothed on the beach, wearing at least a t-shirt and shorts.

He was short, but not quite as short as me, maybe a few inches taller. Very broadly built, with wide shoulders and a barrel chest, and quite a lot of body hair that ran down to his exposed arms. He would always sit out on the sand, or where the rocks began, sunglasses and a cap hiding what I assumed was a bald head, just looking out and watching.

I found myself really enjoying it when he was there, seeing him openly following me with his gaze, not even trying to be discreet. The added imbalance of me being naked and him fully clothed really satisfied my embarrassment kink differently.

About a week after my interaction with the last man, I was out in the water when I saw this guy stepping onto the beach. I planned to wait until he sat down somewhere and then walk past him as I exited the water, but he just kind of hung around the beach, pacing a little.

As I finally exited the water, he began slowly walking towards me as I stepped onto the sand. At this stage, we were the only ones on the beach, and he came right up to me before saying good morning. I greeted him back, but feeling strangely nervous this time, and feeling the beginnings of another embarrassing erection coming on, I kept slowly walking back towards the rocks where my towel lay.

He fell into step beside me, making small talk as I nervously replied, nodding along and letting him do most of the talking. My heart was racing in my chest as I realized he was walking all the way back to my clothes with me, to the far side of the beach where the rocks led onto the nature trail.

When I finally arrived back at my towel, he dropped his bag down to the ground and sat down on a rock that was jutting out nearby. I knew at this moment I had a choice to make. I could quickly get dressed and leave, or I could sit and prolong my exposure.

With my clothes all bundled up into my own backpack, I sat down on the towel beside him and reached for my book. But he was still talking, commanding my attention, and I let him, politely replying to every question and agreeing with him as he spoke. I found myself sitting cross-legged while he sat on the rock, his body raised up and over mine, causing me to look up to speak to him.

I could feel myself getting hard, and despite the intense embarrassment I was feeling, I made no effort to hide myself or change my position, instead just sitting there with my little stiff prick pointing up at him.

The longer we spoke, the more direct he became, telling me how cute I was and how he liked my lips. I knew I was playing with fire, but not even fully knowing what I wanted out of it, I was still enjoying it. I just meekly thanked him as he stared down at my naked body and showered me with compliments.

It was only when more people arrived at the bottom of the stairs that I managed to snap out of the almost hypnotic effect that he was having on me. Coming to my senses, I stood up, bringing my hard little cock right up to his face before quickly getting dressed and thanking him for the talk.

After leaving the beach, I wasn’t able to think about anything else for nearly two full days, and it didn’t take long before I ran into him again on another visit.

On our second encounter, I arrived at the beach to find him waiting on the opposite end from where I normally sat. I headed straight over to my usual spot, and by the time I reached it and dropped my bag, he was already halfway to where I was. I sat down and pretended to be on my phone while he finished walking over, eventually taking a seat on the same rock beside me.

We chatted for a moment before he went quiet and then asked me, “Aren’t you going to get naked?”

It caught me off guard with its direct and abrupt nature, especially considering he was still dressed in shorts and a t-shirt. But it also triggered that shamefully part of my mind, and I found myself meekly obliging, standing up and shedding my clothes, leaving me once again stark naked in front of him.

We ended up chatting for much longer this time, even sharing one of my joints after he came and sat down right next to me. He remained clothed the entire time, freely inspecting my naked body as I made no effort to hide myself from him. I learned that his name was John and that he was a truck driver. I wasn’t remotely surprised to hear this, and he seemed to fit the stereotype perfectly.

I told him a little about myself, being careful not to reveal any clearly identifying information, just my first name and general information about my life. I also lied, saying I had a girlfriend, trying to imply a boundary gently, but he either didn’t notice or didn’t care.

It didn’t take long until I was rock hard, my little prick pointing up, even a little glistening drop of precum that I had to wipe away when he wasn’t looking discreetly. I couldn’t believe how amazing it felt to be in this strange situation, and how insanely horny it was making me.

At a few points, he would let his body brush up against mine, one of his hairy arms or legs grazing against my exposed, naked skin, and each time an intense, tingling surge of excitement would ripple through me.

Eventually, the conversation turned back to me, and he resumed with his flattery and praise of my body, which I meekly thanked him for. I remember freezing to the spot when I felt his hand on my bare back. He held it in place for a moment, seemingly awaiting a reaction, and then began to stroke up and down gently. I sat there unmoving, taking another drag on the shared joint to occupy myself as his hand moved up and down, slowly working lower to the top of my bum cheeks as I sat there cross-legged.

I could feel my cock twitching in its hard state, little jolts of electricity shooting through me as I felt his hand inching closer to my crack. It felt incredible, but even in my stoned state I was conflicted, and knew that I should put a stop to this. Yet despite this, I stayed still, letting his hand move over the tops of my bum cheeks, over my hip, and onto my thigh, inches from my hard, twitching cock.

And then, mercifully, someone else arrived. The sound of them stepping out from the entrance and onto the sand distracted us both, and I snapped to my senses. Making up an excuse about having to leave, I stood up and began getting dressed.

I could tell that John was disappointed, and even frustrated, but he handled it well and said his goodbyes.

As I left the beach, I remember being hit with a wave of disappointment and nearly turning back. But I kept on my path and headed home, replaying the encounter over and over in my head.

This one stuck with me longer than the others, and the more I thought it over, the more I realized I was disappointed and that I wished something more had happened. It didn’t take long for my wish to come true.

After a few more uneventful trips to the beach, it was a few weeks later when I came down the steps early one morning. Instantly, I spotted John, dressed as always, near the water’s edge, and stood next to him. Naked and bronzed, the taller man, whose name I still didn’t know, stood next to him.

My heart was immediately racing. This was the first time I’d seen John since our last encounter, and the first time I’d seen the taller guy again. I kept my head down and walked on shaky legs straight to my usual spot. My mind was racing with doubts and conflicting ideas. I was completely alone on the beach with the two of them, and the thought terrified and elated me.

Wasting no time, I stripped naked and shoved my clothes into my bag, zipping it up in case I felt like backing out. John was already making his way over to me by the time I had sat down, and the other man hung back along the water’s edge, looking over in our direction.

As he had before, John came straight up and took a seat on the rock beside me. We started chatting, and he pulled out a bag of weed and began rolling a joint, saying he needed to return the favor. I shared it with him and was nearly blown away by how strong it was. Much more potent than what I usually smoked, and in a few minutes, I was very much stoned, and my little prick had shot up to attention, its pink head poking out from beneath my foreskin.

I could hear my voice slurring a little as I spoke, and I ended up letting John do most of the talking while I nodded along, smiling.

This time, when he put his hand on me, he didn’t hesitate, stroking from my shoulder down to my bum, and then sliding over to my thigh and gently massaging it. I offered no resistance, kind of pretending not to notice, like nothing strange was happening, as I sat there getting fondled. It was electrifying, as if every one of my nerve endings was being focused on the spot he was touching.

John noticed me looking over towards the nature trail that led off from the end of the beach and asked me if I had ever been down there. When I told him that I hadn’t, he rose to his feet and told me to take a look with him. I instinctively reached for my bag and my clothes, but he told me to leave them; we were just going for a quick look.

His tone was casual, not demanding, but I knew that it was anything but innocent. Against my better judgment, ignoring the little voice of reason in my head, I stood up and followed him, my little cock, hard and bouncing out in front of me.

The narrow path between the trees and bushes followed a slight uphill gradient for about ten meters, and I had to crouch at some points to avoid the low-hanging branches and leaves. It was clearly not a designated path, and I had to watch carefully to see where to place my bare feet on the uneven ground.

Eventually, it turned a slight corner and into an oval-shaped clearing with the path continuing into the bushes on the other side. It was very secluded, with the trees overhead providing almost total shade and the thick shrubbery offering only fleeting glimpses of the water on the other side.

There were a few logs arranged around like bench seats, and the ground was littered with empty cans and cigarette butts. It was clearly a well-used area, and given the privacy it afforded, I could see why.

I stopped in the clearing alongside John, standing there naked and erect, wondering what the fuck I was getting myself into. He was rolling another joint, and after lighting it and taking a puff, he handed it to me, stepping in front of me and blowing out smoke onto my naked chest. I took the joint with a trembling hand and took another hit, knowing that I was already too stoned and this was a bad idea. The little voice of reason in my head was growing quieter and quieter.

The entire situation felt completely surreal. I was standing naked, completely erect and exposed, my clothes nowhere near me, accompanied by a fully dressed man while I smoked a joint. My mind was dizzy with excitement and arousal. I still had no idea what I was really hoping to get out of this, but I knew that whatever happened next was going to be a life-changing moment.

John stepped forward until he was right in front of me and took off my sunglasses. I realized that up until that point, I had always been wearing them whenever I was on the beach, and he had never seen me without them. It was like my final shred of privacy had just been stripped away, and now I was truly, completely exposed.

Standing so close that the tip of my little cock was almost touching the fabric of his pants, he looked down into my face and asked me, “Have you ever sucked cock?”

My heart leaped in my chest as I finally came to terms with what was about to happen. I couldn’t even find my voice and just meekly shook my head as I stared back at him.

“Don’t worry, you’ll like it,” he said with a smile.

He took a step back and looked down at my hard little prick, and then, bringing his hand up, he traced a finger along the underside of my tiny shaft right up to the tip.

My whole body gave an involuntary shudder, and I just managed to stifle a gasp as the rough skin of his finger pressed against the tip of my cock. He brought his finger up to my face, and I could see the little shiny drop of precum on its tip. Without asking, he moved his finger towards my lips.

I almost pulled back out of instinct, but I found myself frozen to the spot as he placed his fingertip to my lips and applied a gentle pressure. After a moment’s hesitation, I took the finger into my mouth and sucked gently, seeing him smile back at me.

I let John take the joint from my hand and guide me to my knees in front of him. My legs were trembling so much that I almost collapsed, but I just managed to get myself into a kneeling position at his feet. I could feel the leaves and twigs and the slight dampness of the earth beneath my knees. Somewhere at the back of my mind, I was aware of the sound of the ocean on the other side of the trees, a reminder of how vulnerable I was if anyone were to come up here.

John was already unbuttoning his pants and shuffling them down his hips, and his cock sprang into view. It was shorter than most I had seen on this beach, but even so, it dwarfed mine. It was thick and uncircumcised, the base of his cock and his large, heavy balls surrounded by a trimmed tangle of dark pubic hair flecked with grey.

I stared transfixed at the sight of it, already semi-hard and slowly rising as it stiffened in front of me. His foreskin was still covering the head of his cock, but as it stiffened, I could see the tip beginning to peer out, wet and shining precum already coating it. My mind was reeling, and my heart racing. I stared, unable to think about anything else but how close I was to this man’s cock.

He reached down and guided my hand up to his crotch, and I obediently took his cock in my hand. I held it for a moment, gripping his shaft, feeling the unfamiliar weight and thickness of it, feeling the warmth of it as it twitched a little in my grip.

Without realizing I was doing it, I began gently stroking back and forth, watching his foreskin tighten and loosen around the head of his cock with each movement of my hand. It was hypnotic, watching the way his cock pulsed and twitched, seeing the growing stream of precum oozing from its tip. I let my thumb slide up the head of his cock, gently touching the warm fluid, massaging it around as I slowly pulled back, seeing his foreskin retreat.

As I heard John let out a sigh, I realized that my mouth was watering. I hadn’t taken my eyes off the head of his cock, and without being fully conscious of it, I had been imagining what he was going to taste like.

Not wanting to hesitate, not wanting to give myself a chance to guess second, I leaned forward and gently pressed my lips against the head of his cock. I immediately tasted the salty tang and felt the stickiness of it coating my lips. It was my first taste of another person’s cum, and instantly I knew that something had awoken in me. I could feel all of my resistance and hesitation melting away. I knew I needed more.

I pulled back and traced my tongue up the length of his cock along the underside, lifting and angling his shaft in my hand so that I could cover every inch. I let my tongue glide along his heavy, hanging balls, each second building up his anticipation as much as mine. And then I took him into my mouth.

It was different from what I had imagined. Feeling firm yet soft, feeling the little twitches and pulses that his cock made as I slid my lips and tongue across the length. I knew I should go slow, but my excitement was taking over, and I quickly found myself bobbing my head back and forth, my hands moving down to his thighs to grip as I sucked back and forth, moaning softly in response to his groans.

In my stoned mind, I could hear the echoes of the countless hours of sissy training videos I had watched: the rhythmic techno beats, the soft moaning voices whispering to me. “Give in. You want this. Submit to him. Slut.”

I felt him move a hand down to the top of my head, guiding me back and forth as he let out a moan and whispered, “Good slut.”

Something about that sent a shockwave of shameful pleasure through my entire body, swirling around as it reached my brain. It was so degrading, so humiliating, and I loved every second of it. I was kneeling in the dirt in front of him, his cock in my mouth. I was a slut.

Amidst the haze of shame and arousal, I was vaguely aware of the sound of movement behind me, the shuffling sound of feet making their way up the path from the beach. My heart leaped in my chest as I was momentarily shocked back to my senses. I was stark naked, on my knees, sucking a stranger’s cock in a clearing, and someone was about to walk up and see everything.

Almost as though he could sense what I was thinking, John pressed his hand firmly against the back of my head. “Keep going slut, I’m getting close.”

I felt the shame course through me like electricity as I let out an involuntary moan, my head moving slightly faster as I bobbed up and down on his cock, sliding my tongue from the tip to the base.

As I heard the new stranger enter the clearing behind me and stop, I felt myself begin to move almost instinctively. Still on my knees, I raised my ass and arched my back slightly, giving the newcomer a clear view of my asshole and hanging balls as I sucked on John’s cock.

I heard an appreciative chuckle behind me as the stranger said, “What a little beauty.”

John didn’t acknowledge him, his grunts coming in harder and faster as he tightened his grip on my head. But I felt a surge of humiliation and excitement as I recognized the voice of the taller nameless stranger from earlier. It wasn’t so long ago that I had been humiliated at the idea of him seeing me with an erection on the beach. And now I was on my knees, showing him my asshole as I sucked cock like a little slut.

John let out a deep grunt as he pushed his cock to the back of my throat. “Oh fuck…I’m gonna cum.”

He pulled himself free from my mouth and began rapidly stroking his cock, slick and wet with my saliva. He stepped forward, jerking his cock right in front of my face. I could hear the faint echoes of the sissy training videos. “Are you ready? Are you really going to do it? Are you ready to be a cum slut? There’s no going back….”

I looked up at John and opened my mouth, sticking out my tongue.

With a deep growling sound, John’s body tensed as he lined up his cock with my tongue. Warm cum erupted out of him, each jet shooting directly into my open mouth. The smell and taste immediately overwhelmed my senses, an almost electric feeling spreading from my mouth to my brain.

As the last shuddering spurt of cum landed on my tongue, he took a step back and stared down at me, waiting. The little voice in my head was ringing now, “Oh my god, you’re really going to do it? No turning back…you’ll be a cum slut for life.”

I closed my mouth and swallowed. The feeling of the cum sliding down my throat was pure ecstasy. I felt my stiff little cock twitching and spasming as ripples of pleasure shot through my body. I had never felt so filthy, so ashamed.

John took two steps back and hadn’t even started pulling up his shorts before the taller stranger stepped forward in front of me. He was completely naked as usual, and with a thrill of excitement, I realized that he had been jerking off while watching my humiliating display.

He stepped forward, rapidly rubbing his long, curved cock in front of my face, and with no warning, he started to cum.

I was momentarily stunned as the first blast of cum splashed across my face. I instinctively opened my mouth in surprise, but no words came out. As the second jet of cum erupted, he stepped forward and lined up his cock with my open mouth and slid it in, letting out a groan as he emptied his balls into my mouth.

I couldn’t believe what was happening. I didn’t even know this man’s name, and he had just started cumming in my mouth. Without even making a conscious decision, I realized that my tongue was pressing against his cock, sucking and licking as he gave the final shudders, finishing with a grunt as he looked down at me.

I paused for a moment, holding his cum in my mouth and looking up at him. Then I swallowed.

I hadn’t even realized that my hand had moved to my own cock. I felt like my brain was melting, just a swirling mess of pleasure and sensations. As I knelt there before the two men, stark naked on my knees, I let out a whimpering gasp and thrust my cock forward as I started to cum.

Short, rapid spurts of cum shot out on the ground in front of me as my whole body shuddered with one of the most intense orgasms I had ever experienced.

I expected a wave of regret and shame to wash over me as the orgasm subsided, but it didn’t come. Only pure bliss and relief coursed through my brain as I knelt there trembling before them.

After a few moments, John helped me to my feet. Without so much as a word, the other man turned and made his way back down to the beach, having got what he came for.

As we made our way back down the path onto the beach, I noticed that a few more people had arrived, some of them glancing up in our direction as we emerged from the trees. I felt an exciting jolt of humiliation as I realized they all knew exactly why we were in there, and could easily guess what I had just been doing.

I walked back towards my clothes, slowly and purposefully, giving everyone on the beach as much time as possible to take in the sight of my naked body, my red and scuffed knees, and my tiny cock limply bouncing between my legs.

As much as I didn’t want the experience to end, to have to go back to normal life, I knew that I had already pushed my boundaries far enough for one day. I said goodbye to John and collected my things.

Making a spur-of-the-moment decision, I didn’t get dressed straight away. Instead, I carried my bag the length of the beach, walking naked and exposed right up to the entrance, letting everyone see me up close. Only when I arrived at the foot of the stairs did I finally, regretfully, get dressed and leave the beach.

 

The End.

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