In a small town, a closeted young fag has to be careful. Married business Men from out of town were my safest bet for discretion. But the irony is there was nothing safe about it; their anonymity, maturity, and transience made them voracious predators who acted without consequence or restraint.
Somehow they knew where to find me. They’d pick me up in the park and take me to their hotel room where the facade of kindness would quickly evaporate. While you can’t rape the willing i had no control over what they did to me and i’d often beg them to stop but to no avail. There was the occasional Daddy who wanted a soft young son to fuck and cuddle but for most, i was just a whore they could use to fulfill their darkest rape fantasies. It was dangerous and i was helpless to stop them but the way they used my body and took their pleasure felt right. They were Men being Men and they knew how to make good use of me. i was an outlet for their aggression, lust, and primal needs. It was always frightening to be so close to such Manly strength and animalistic sexuality but it was intoxicating and affirming as well.