Mr. Anonymous

Growing up I was the anonymous child. In a family of five children, I was number three. My eldest brother, the firstborn, was a total hell-raiser. Number two, my sister, was a drama queen. Number four, my second sister, was the ADD/ADHD Ritalin sibling among her many other disorders, and number five my youngest brother was the darling of our tribe. He could do no wrong and always got away with murder. My entire childhood was a never-ending soap opera. The one thing that I, Mr. Anonymous, had above all the others was that I was born with a brain. Collectively, their combined intelligence wouldn?t amount to a double-digit IQ.When I graduated from college, therefore, I made sure to find a job as far away from them as possible. Parochial as my family was, I was also absolutely sure that I would be rid of them for good. I wasn?t exactly sent on my way with a stash of money to start my new life, but my freedom more than up for that. Initially, I would phone home once a week but these calls were always cut short by some or other drama because of Ms. Ritalin or Mr. Hell-Raiser. Shortly, these isvecbahis calls regressed to a bi-monthly routine followed by a monthly call, which thereafter, became standard practice.I had long known that I was gay, but having grown up in a family where homosexual people were referred to as queers I was sure the word gay would?ve raised confused eyebrows. Strangely, I was never asked about my love life during one of my phone calls because I presumed that being the nerd I was, my family would not have been able to process the idea that I was even capable of caring for a goldfish. Thankfully, I did not care.In my new environment, I was able to give vent to my sexual suppression and soon became part of a gay clique. We referred to ourselves as ?the girls.? Please understand, I was not a crossdresser and had no intention of doing the transvestite thing, but I was a bottom and loved being dominated by butch guys. I always gravitated toward big men, the rougher and bigger they were, the better I like them.One of my new ?girlfriends,? Peter, told me that you never knew how good-looking guy isveçbahis giriş was until he pulled his underpants down. I totally subscribed to that philosophy. Only being five-foot-six tall and very slight of build, I was like a magnet to the daddy types. Nothing pleased me more than having my arse pummelled by a huge and hairy well-hung hunk.I was, therefore, elated when Peter told me about a fraternity of outdoor rough-fuckers that got together on weekends. These daddies were mostly bikers and would find very secluded places where they could indulge in a carnal free-for-all. The action was apparently hectic and once you arrived, especially as a bottom, your arse was public property. You had no say and would simply be used as a general cum-dump, simple as that. I must confess that I was somewhat nervous prior to my first outing.Most of the guys that attended these gatherings brought their on tents along, but Peter said that would be waste of time for us because our ?accommodation? was guaranteed. We did, nevertheless, take along two sleeping bags that we could use in his vehicle, isveçbahis yeni giriş if and when we needed a break from the action. Truthfully, I had little conception of the ?orgasmatron? I was embarking upon. Having grown up as Mr. Anonymous, however, I felt sure I would be able to cope with the gratuitous sex that awaited me. The namelessness of the impending fuck-fest delighted me, and Peter?s descriptions of the men that we would encounter excited me enormously.We arrived at the remote venue six p.m. As we got out of Peter?s vehicle my eyes were arrested by a sea of testosterone and fornication. I had arrived in butch-land. Being the middle of summer, Peter had advised me to wear shorts with no underpants, a t-shirt, and sandals. Peter had also mentioned that we should take along a second similar outfit because in his words, ?things could get a little dirty.?As we moved towards the masculine throng, Peter?s eyes lit up.?I have to introduce you to Jake,? he said, motioning with his eyes.Jake was an uber-daddy. He was ugly, huge, and ominous looking. As we approached Peter mentioned that Jake was an ex-convict, with the dick-of-death.When we engaged Jake, Peter said, ?Hi, Jake, this is a friend of mine. His name is??Before Peter could say my name, Gary, Jake interrupted him.?Bitch, that?s his name,? Jake growled.