Overwhelmed and Overthrown

Tossing moving a pillow to the corner of the sofa, Sombra eased himself down and stretched his legs. Digging into his pocket, as his feet hung over one arm of the relatively small couch, he retrieved his phone and made a note for himself. His furniture, much like his cramped apartment, was hardly suited for a King, although things could certainly be worse.

Twilight Sparkle, after being crowned as the Princess of all Equestria, had apparently been stricken with a change of heart. She’d resurrected Sombra, apologize for vanquishing him twice, and given him a pardon for his crimes, so long as he agreed to play nice and integrate with society. He’d leapt at the chance, of course, yet he’d been left as an ordinary citizen.

His castle had been replaced by an inglorious single room apartment, his riches and fineries had all been confiscated and redistributed to the ponies of Equestria, and he was left with a temporary bit of unemployment money, his crown, and his cape. It was beyond demeaning but, alas, his torments didn’t stop there.

Being stripped of his regal title had been bad, but having to live as just another pony had been far, far worse. He’d tried working ordinary jobs, at first, although each and every one was downright awful. It was only when an effeminate young stallion, one of his previous coworkers at the Hay Burger, had commented on his physique did he have a eureka moment. Even if he was no longer considered a true royal, that didn’t mean he couldn’t be worshiped.

Abandoning his position at the fast-food restaurant, he applied for employment at a local strip club - the Princely Pole. Making his way to the establishment, after purchasing and donning a pair of leather pants and a skin-tight tank top, he’d walked in like he owned the place and politely asked to speak with the proprietor. After waiting for a few minutes, the owner showed up, took one good look at him, and hired him on the spot.

He was and always had been an absolute stud. Tall, astonishingly well built, and with damn near adonic features, Sombra never failed to draw the attention of mares and stallions alike - even if he only had any interest in the latter. Regardless of his preferences, his stunning good looks, charming smile, and immense endowment quickly made a rather favorable, albeit salacious name for himself.

The best part about becoming an adult entertainer wasn’t the money or the attention - no, it was having open access to any number of his adoring fans. If someone caught his eye, it was a simple affair to chat them up, get their number, and woo them into his chamber. Sweet stars above, in the few weeks since he’d started stripping, he’d already bedded no fewer than half a dozen young stallions!

This very evening, he was awaiting on a twinkish suitor to come knocking at his door. The lad, named Thumbtack, had paid for a private dance on two separate occasions and had gone so far as to offer him money for additional services; he’d declined, of course, but exchanged numbers with the stallion. After texting back and forth for a few days, with a fair bit of flirting and sinful promises flying between them, they’d settled upon a time for him to appear at Sombra’s apartment.

The phone in his hand vibrated, followed by an announcement popping up on the device. Smiling, realizing his guest was just outside, he pushed himself up and sauntered to the entrance. Brushing his mane back, making himself slightly more presentable than he already was, he opened the door and put on his best wolfish grin.

“Hey,” the stallion greeted, smiling sheepishly at him. Short, slender, and relatively plain looking, the little twink wore a simple t-shirt and jeans. His short, unkempt mane, a dark grey, complemented his stone blue hide and brilliant yellow eyes wonderfully.

“Please, come in,” Sombra intoned, stepping aside and baying his guest to enter. As the twink walked by, he noticed a book bag slung on the stallion’s shoulder. “Brought something fun for us?”

“Well,” Tack began, turning as Sombra closed the door, “I did bring something that I thought you might like - then again, I’m not sure if you’re into that sort of thing…”

Sombra chuckled, amused at the lad’s timid demeanor. He had little doubt that Tack’s reservations would soon melt away, as soon as they were undressed, but only time would tell. More than ready to entertain, he waved towards his open bedroom. “Perhaps we can discuss this little notion of yours somewhere more comfortable…”

Tack’s jaw flapped for a moment, before he nodded. He really was cute - so small and inexperienced looking, half of Sombra’s size, and only just having reached adulthood. The lad was like a deliciously ripe fruit, just begging to be plucked. As the King walked past, leading the way, he followed closely behind his host.

Strolling into his room, with his guest right on his heels, Sombra smoothly pulled his shirt up and over his broad chest. Considering what he did for a living, and what he planned to be doing shortly, he saw no reason to stay dressed. Reaching the bedside, he turned towards the stallion and cast the garment aside.

Slowly, sensually, his hands wandered to his crotch. Unbuttoning his pants and leisurely unzipping his fly, he smoothly pulled the article down his sculpted thighs. As the waistband of his slacks passed over his groin, inch after vascular inch of his stallionhood appeared. Even semi-flaccid, the thing was well above the usual size.

Whereas most stallions sported erections averaging six or seven inches, his tool hung limp at a staggering eight. When fully aroused, the thing was nearly a foot long and thicker than a beer can. Unfortunately, his immense endowment was a bit of a double edged sword - in that, he’d met a relatively small number of boy-toys who weren’t able to fully accommodate someone of his size.

Releasing his pants, letting the article fall to the floor, he chuckled. “Your turn…”

Setting his book bag to the side, Tack hastily disrobed. His build, much like the rest of him, was nothing terribly remarkable - then again, he’d assumed as such. Covered in lean muscle, sporting a moderately impressive cock, the lad was just what he’d been hoping for. The young stallion was already rock hard, likely dying to get the cum fucked out of him, which made the moment all the more savory.

Stepping closer, Sombra brought their groins together. The contrast of their equipment was jarring, to say the least. Even soft, his stallionhood was nearly double the size of his guest’s equipment. Though it was by no means necessary, he wanted his visitor to feel the slightest bit of intimidation. They both obviously knew who the superior stallion was, but showing off a bit always served to wet his carnal appetite.

“Quite the exquisite little dish, aren’t you?” Sombra purred, tracing a finger up his guest’s chest.

“I...I try,” Tack gulped, glancing down at his bag.

Sombra piqued a brow, curious as to what in Equestria could have held the lad’s attention. Leaning in, breathing hotly on his guest’s ear, he smirked. “There must be something awfully splendid in there, for you to take your eyes off of me.”

“I...It’s actually something for you,” Tack admitted, awkwardly retreating and leaning over to fetch the bag.

The remark threw Sombra further off guard, leaving him silent. It was rare for someone to bring him a gift, especially before he’d thoroughly ruin their throat or ass - still, he wasn’t opposed to humoring the lad. Stepping back, crossing his arms over his chest, he watched the stallion rummage about in his satchel.

“I brought these,” Tack murmured, holding out a french maid outfit and several accoutrements.

“Oooooooooooh,” Sombra hummed, his smile broadening, “I think you’d look quite charming in that.”

Tack rubbed the back of his neck and averted his gaze, as he extended the uniform towards his host. “They’re for you…”

Sombra blinked, wondering if he’d misheard his guest. “Excuse me?”

“Ok, not to gush, but you should really consider including a few feminine articles in your acts. Your glorious mane, those bewitching crimson eyes, that succulent ass of yours. Trust me, with a body like yours in an outfit like this,” Tack fawned, peering down at the uniform, “you’d have even more stallions throwing cash on stage.”

Eyeing the costume, Sombra weighed his options. He had entertained the notion of wearing something a bit more marish, yet he’d never actually given it a try. He did keep his nails painted scarlet, but he’d adopted that habit ages ago. While he was extraordinarily masculine, with slabs of chiseled muscle heaped about his frame, his rump was relatively large and pillowy. His pecs, if pressed together, were undoubtedly large enough to fill a small bra and, although he wasn’t too fond of such a look, he knew there were a great many who were.

“You don’t have to, if you don’t think you’ll look good in it,” Tack sighed, shifting uncomfortably.

“Give me a moment,” Sombra grunted, walking past and snatching up the apparel.

The mere mention of not looking good was the straw that broke the camel’s back. He felt sure that he could pull off virtually any look imaginable, such was his self-confidence, so he was effectively goaded to prove it. Strutting into his restroom, he closed the door behind himself. Since he’d never tried on such garments before, he’d rather his guest not see any potential struggle with donning the getup.

Within the confines of his bathroom, he gave himself a moment to study the outfit. It was, for all intents and purposes, a mockery of a proper maid uniform; the dress was too short, there was a large opening over the chest, and the entire garment reeked of obscene appeal. He couldn’t say he was terribly surprised, given the depraved nature of its intent, though it did manage to give him a small chuckle.

Slipping into the outfit was, to his surprise, a relatively simple affair. Either Tack had a damn good eye for guessing measurements or, more likely, he’d asked some of the Princely Pole’s staff about his clothing size. WIth the main article clinging to his torso, giving his massive pecs and almost breast-like look, he completed the look by putting on the accompanying fishnet leggings and gloves. The hardest thing to wiggle into, by far, was the pair of panties he’d been given.

The mare’s undergarments simply weren’t designed to house a stallion’s equipment - let alone a package of Sombra’s mammoth caliber. After minutes of toil, adjusting and readjusting the laced fabric of his loins, he eventually gave up. The titanic swell of his flaccid length and barely restrained nuts were laughable, yet the delicate material held. With the final piece of the ensemble in place, he looked to the mirror to appraise himself.

His reflection stared back at him and, of course, was just as resplendent as he’d imagined. The uniform, while a bit odd for a stallion of his build, somehow accentuated the few marish features he had to nigh unfathomable levels. His long, luscious mane, the way his chest filled out the top, how the skirt draped over his thighs and tush was strangely captivating. He was still quite obviously a male, yet his masculine appeal was blunted substantially by the uniform.

In the end, he wasn’t bothered by his new look. As he opened the door and proceeded into his chamber, he hummed proudly to himself. Soon, he’d have Tack bent over and impaled on his mighty stallionhood - doubtlessly mewling like a mare who’d been claimed. Putting a bit of swagger into his step, he paused in the doorway and cleared his throat.

“I hope I’m just as ravishing as you’d hoped - then again, I know I am,” he conceitedly snickered.

“Sweet Celestia,” Tack reverently breathed. Walking over to the titan of a stallion, he gently rested his hands on the King’s hips. “You’re just beautiful,” he sighed, pressing his face against his host’s chest.

“Why thank you. Now, if we could…” Sombra trailed off, as the lad’s hand wandered under his skirt and to his backside. The sensation of his guest’s fingers slipping into the cleft of his ass snapped him back, leaving him to softly push the stallion away. “That’s cute, really, but usually it’s the bottom who gets that sort of treatment.”

“I thought you were going to bottom,” Tack admitted, a wounded look crossing his face.

Sombra recoiled slightly, caught woefully unprepared by the assertion. “And you presumed that I’d allow you to top me because…?” he let the question hang.

“Well, you’re just so beautiful and talented that I expected you to be a switch. Even if you’re not, every top I’ve ever met bottoms sometimes - you know, just to scratch that itch,” the lad explained matter-of-factly.

The King pursed his lips, forcing himself not to say anything. He had, in fact, never bottomed for anyone, but he couldn’t freely confess to that. His exile had been long and the world had changed, so he couldn’t say for certain if Tack was being honest with him or not. Regardless, he simply couldn’t admit to being ignorant of such things!

He was King Sombra, the King Sombra, lascivious lord of all he surveyed! If mixing things up with some mere peasant would further bolster his experience and renown, so be it. Staring at his guest’s erection, he stifled a laugh. Tack’s endowment wasn’t the smallest he’d ever seen, but he doubted it would give him any trouble. Hell, given their sheer differences in size, he probably wouldn’t even feel it!

A predatory grin split his features, as he looked to his visitor’s face. “How about a friendly wager. If you cum before me, I’m going to fuck you until you can’t stand straight.”

Tack looked to the floor and rubbed his chin, but it only took him a second to reply. “Alright. But if I win, you have to wear that outfit Friday Night at the club.”

Sombra laughed darkly at that, unable to contain his amusement. The thought that some commoner could make him climax from being rutted was ridiculous. Extending a hand, imagining how best to absolutely demolish his guest’s hole, he stepped forward. “So be it…”

Tack positively beamed, briskly shaking the King’s hand before pointing to the bed. “If you want to get comfortable, we can start.”

“Hmmph,” Sombra huffed, sashaying to the mattress.

Leaning forward, crawling onto the blanketed surface, he presumed an all fours position. Even if he had allowed himself to get serviced by some plebeian, that didn’t mean he had to look his partner in the eye throughout. With his knees resting on the edge of the bed, he awaited the trial to begin.

“Ok, I’m gonna get started. Just give me a sec,” Tack called out from behind him.

“My thanks,” Sombra grumbled.

To think he would ever find himself in such a scandalous situation was absurd. Dressed in some slutty mare’s uniform, with his barely concealed ass and package presented like he was some common whore, it was as if the world had gone mad! The funniest part was that the lad actually thought he had a chance of winning this silly competition - well, it would be funny, if it wasn’t downright pathetic. After all, how on earth could painfully ordinary pony ever dream of -

Sombra’s eyes flew open, his arms went rigid, and he gasped, as something slipped into his backdoor. The move had been so sudden that he hadn’t had any time to react. Tack had simply tugged his panties to the side, exposed his taut pucker, and thrust into him. He slowly exhaled, shivering slightly, as the intrusion worked deeper.

It was a strange sensation, though not an unbearable one. Growing accustomed to the feeling, he relaxed to a degree - that was, until something peculiar happened. It was almost like the twink had pressed a button inside him, sending sparks of pleasure surging through his frame. Tack stopped, fixating on the particular spot within his rump.

“There it is,” the lad hummed, massaging the tender area.

“What are you - Mmmmn,” Sombra half growled, as something else pressed into him.

“Just warming you up a little. You seem pretty tight,” Tack nonchalantly responded.

The statement caused Sombra to look back, for a fleeting moment, before hanging his head. He shouldn’t - no, couldn’t let his guest see his surprise. What he’d assumed was a dick was, in actuality, only his partner’s fingers. It made sense, in hindsight, but the digits in his chaste derriere felt far more substantial than they actually were. Steeling himself, he allowed Tack to loosen him up.

One small saving grace was that his visitor had brought a bottle of lube with him, making the experience marginally less taxing. As degrading as it was, allowing some peasant to toy with him, he kept silent. Soon enough, he’d wreak havoc on the young stallion and leave him a gibbering, cum filled mess.

“Alright, that should do it,” Tack began, withdrawing his slickened fingers. “You ready?”

Hearing his guest move, feeling a hand rest on his hip, Sombra kept his eyes averted. “Just remember our little wager.”

“I’ll do my best,” the lad humbly replied.

The warm, blunt tip of what could only be Tack’s stallionhood pressed against Sombra’s entrance. Despite the absurdity of the situation, he couldn’t bring himself to be submissive. Scowling, refusing to be used like some ordinary harlot, he seized the initiative and rocked back. The move sent the battering ram-like head into his backside.

His impulsivity and domineering streak instantaneously dealt him a crippling blow. Either he’d grievously underestimated the lads size or overestimated his body’s ability to cope with the penetration - either way, he swiftly realized his mistake. He shuddered, as his guest’s stallionhood ground into his depths.

“You ok?” Tack asked, drawing to a halt.

“I...I’m fine,” Sombra stammered, doing his damnedest not to tense up.

“I just wanted to be sure. Almost halfway there,” the twink sighed, gently driving his hips forward.

Sombra swallowed hard, taken aback by the admission. He’d only managed to take half of the stallion’s length, yet he felt positively stuffed. Bracing himself, feeling the hot length of pony meat worming into him, he grit his teeth. It was only when something immensely fat and girthy pressed against his hole did he the lad relent.

He thought he’d earned himself a breather, presumed that Tack was too enrapt with the divine sensations his body afforded, but he’d been dead wrong. Without saying a word, the twink withdrew slightly, tightened his grip, and started thrusting. Subconsciously, he grasped at the blankets, as the pleasure from before redoubled in strength.

As shameful as it was, the blissful sensations accosting him were slowly taking a toll. Setting his jaw, his body was jostled ever so slightly by the impetus of his partner’s steady movements. What little discomfort there was bled away, gradually dissolving under his Tack’s ministrations. Realizing he’d been holding his breath, he exhaled.

“You don’t know how long I’ve dreamt of this,” Tack admitted, softly bucking away.

Sensing an opportunity to drive the lad closer to his limit, Sombra seized the moment and struck. Throwing his ass back, fully hilting his guest, his recklessness was his undoing. Tack’s medial ring popped into him, crushing his tender prostate and causing his semi-flaccid cock to smear the interior of his panties with pre-cum. Despite himself, a throaty groan escaped him.

Almost immediately, presumably taking his move as a sign of enjoyment, Tack began rutting him harder and faster than before. It was all he could do to hold himself up, desperately clinging to the linens for support. He’d unwittingly signaled the twink to pull out all the stops, causing the lad to pound his ass like a beast possessed - or so he thought.

Tack shifted, altering the angle of his plunges to more directly stimulate the delicate organ in his rear. Screwing his eyes shut, he bit his lip to stifle himself. There was no denying how infuriatingly sublime it felt, though he couldn’t show weakness. It wasn’t his fault that his body was unused to such deplorable treatment! Blindly reaching for a pillow, hoping to muffle any unseemly noises he may make, his balance was upset by a particularly forceful thrust

Having balanced himself on one arm, while he grabbed for a cushion, his stability was compromised. His chest crashed to the mattress and his legs parted slightly, as the carnal assault continued. Tack was uncaring, either too incompetent or too selfish to notice his plight, as he plowed him like a mare in heat. Suffering the full brunt of the twink’s assault, he desperately pulled the pillow to his face.

“That - Huff - good, huh?” Tack jeered, above the sound of their bodies colliding.

Sombra couldn’t respond, with his muzzle buried in the cushion - even if he could, he wasn’t sure he’d be able to speak properly. To say it was an odd situation would be a complete understatement. His frustration and annoyance over being so wantonly used was clear, yet some part of him pined for more of the maddening pleasure coursing through him.

As disgraceful as it was, the sensation of being rutted was unparalleled. Whether or not it was due to his waning control or the skill of his partner, he couldn’t be certain - nevertheless, he felt as though he was losing himself. Sinking his teeth into the cushion, feeling his stallionhood drooling within his lacy undergarment, he struggled to maintain composure.

The sound of Tack’s heavy breathing, paired with the rhythmic Plap Plap Plap of his rump slapping against the lad’s waist was a sinful symphony. He had little doubt that, without the pillow against his face, it would take every ounce of his concentration not to make a noise. His only consolation was that he knew it would be over soon and that he’d be able to reap sweet vengeance upon the stallion who had dealt him such a shameful blow.

Sadly, fate conspired against him. The lad movements ground to a halt, moments before he felt the warm length of stallionhood being hauled from his abused tush. There was simply no way Tack had finished up that abruptly, so he turned his head and glanced over his shoulder. Peering past the obsidian strands of his luxurious mane, he spied the svelte stallion applying yet more lube to his turgid dick.

“Roll over,” Tack politely instructed. “If it’s ok, I really want to see that gorgeous face of yours.”

The flattery stroked his ego and spurred him to comply, even though his confidence had been shaken. He simply wasn’t accustomed to being treated in such a lascivious manner and, as much as it pained him to admit it, the twink’s skill was undeniable - still, like it or not, he’d made a wager. Shuffling up the mattress, relinquishing his saliva streaked pillow, he acquiesced.

Easing himself down and rolling onto his back, he looked down his frame. Tack crawled onto the bed, between his parted legs, and smiled graciously down upon him. Sombra didn’t need to be told or asked what to do, so he quietly lifted his legs, braced his feet on the mattress, and lifted his waist; he doubted the lad would be able to lift him, given their difference in size and strength, leaving him to give a bit of assistance.

Easing himself back into the massive stallion’s confines, Tack set to plowing Sombra like a field in spring. Unlike when they’d first began, the twink wasted no time in falling into a fast, savage rhythm. With his hands resting to either side of the King’s broad torso, he leaned forward and rested his cheek on the former tyrant’s pec.

Sombra thought it was cute - that was, until the lad sprung the trap. Biting down on the fabric over his chest, drawing the cloth down to expose one of his onyx nipples, he craned his neck and latched his lips around the sensitive bud of flesh. Completely unprepared for the affection, he whimpered and reflexively bucked his waist up to meet Tack’s pounding hips.

It was bad enough that he was quickly succumbing to the enjoyment of being railed out, but the unexpected attention to his teat elevated things to an entirely new level. Cracking one eye open, he gazed at his guest. There was something disturbingly arousing about watching the small stallion rut him - sure, it wasn’t what he was used to, but the sight and sensations were beyond reproach.

Lying there, being fucked like a filly on prom night, Sombra was at a loss. It felt good - no, better than good - it felt amazing. Synchronizing their movements, raising his waist to meet his partner’s plunges, he wasn’t sure if his motions were for Tack or for himself. Since they’d shifted to a missionary position, his prostate was accosted with every thrust.

Opening one golden eye, meeting his crimson gaze, Tack gave his nipple a parting kiss and withdrew. Slowing to the smallest degree, the twink leaned back and grabbed ‘hold of the King’s knees. Wondering what the lad was up to, he got his answer all too swiftly. In a feat of herculean strength, his legs were lifted and pressed upwards.

Sombra shouldn’t have been too surprised, considering his visitor was an earth pony, yet the mighty action left him stunned. Contorting him like a pretzel, Tack inched closer to his upturned rear. The small stallion’s arms slipped behind his knees, as he found himself peering up into the lad’s bewitching eyes.

As jarring as the repositioning was, nothing could have prepared him for the abject rapture which soon met him. Without preamble, Tack started screwing him with the unrelenting force of a war machine. Pinned, bearing the full brunt of the little stud’s carnal might, he mewled uncontrollably.

Everything in the world was drowned out by the unfettered pleasure that threatened to rob him of his sanity. A pressure and heat was welling up within him, unlike anything he could describe. Without having so much as touched his stallionhood, he felt as though he was a hair's breadth from release. Each plunge caused Tack’s thick medial ring to crush his overly stimulated p-spot, pushing him closer and closer to the edge.

Faster and faster, harder and harder, the lad mercilessly pounded his ass like a jackhammer. Clamping his eyes shut, thrashing his head from side to side, he fought with every fiber of his being to resist the urge to succumb - until it was too late. In one flawed move, hoping to see some sign of his partner’s imminent release, he peered upward.

Framed by the ceiling light, lovingly staring down at him with a quaint little smile, Tack’s brilliant eyes met him. He opened his mouth, drew a breath, and uttered three fateful words. “Cum for me…”

The request was Sombra’s undoing. His toes curled, his ass spasmed around the throbbing stallionhood filling him, and he howled to the heavens. A torrent of seed gushed from his tool, slathering his barely contained loins in his scalding, viscous essence. Awash in ecstasy, teetering on the brink of madness, the unthinkable happened.

With a triumphant snort, Tack slammed his waist forward and hilted. Sombra’s voice cracked and every muscle in his body tensed wildly, as the stallion’s hot seed surged into his depths. As impossible as it seemed, his own climax redoubled in strength. Braying out, with tears streaking his cheeks, he lost himself to the maelstrom of bliss.

He had no way of knowing how long their bodies had stayed entwined, teetering on the brink of consciousness, but the moment finally came to an end. Releasing his legs, letting them flop limply down onto the mattress, Tack retreated. With the softening length unsheathed from his battered and slightly agape pucker, his hole ineffectually grasped and winked at the void. Seething spunk leaked from his backside, coating the cleft of his tush and dribbling to the bed sheets below.

“I...I guess that settles that,” Tack croaked, flopping down beside the substantially larger stallion.

As the lad turned to face him, lovingly draping an arm over his chest, Sombra stared blankly at the ceiling. Not only had he lost, but done so in spectacular fashion. He’d been humiliated, plain and simple, having suffered through possibly the most powerful orgasm he’d ever had. Beyond unbelievable, the experience was a revelation - albeit an exceptionally humbling one.

Tack hummed contentedly, amorously stroking the King’s bare and sweat streaked chest. “So I guess you’ll be wearing that costume next Friday...”

Rubbing salt in the wound, mentioning that he’d have to wear such a slatternly outfit for the masses, pushed him to act. He simply couldn’t parade about on stage and show himself off in such an unseemly getup; it would ruin his regal image and the air of domineering superiority he’d worked so tirelessly to cultivate. Licking his lips and drawing a breath, he did what he had to do.

“A rematch,” Sombra coughed, unwilling to look his guest in the eye.

“I...what?” the lad sputtered, cocking his head.

“A rematch,” the King repeated, only then stealing a fleeting glance at the lad’s face. “In two weeks, you will give me a rematch - double or nothing odds.”

“If you say so,” Tack purred, snuggling up against the titanic stud. “Just don’t be mad if you lose again.”

Sombra didn’t reply, too focused on the thoughts dancing around his head. Unmindful of the fact that bottoming had made him cum without even touching himself, he had his pride to account for. Reluctantly, he wrapped his strong, muscular arm around the lithe stallion’s back and accepted the embrace.

Though he’d been undone by his own hubris, he wouldn’t let the same mistake happen a second time. Replaying the events in his mind, dwelling on what techniques he could employ to best his twinkish foe, his cum-slick pucker hungrily seized upon itself. So long as he could wrestle control of his body’s budding urges, and possibly acquaint himself with the damnable sensation of having his backdoor used, he would be victorious...He hoped…