Day 2 in the city of Savannah began like any touristy day, a food tour and cemetery tour, but I found myself on a quest for an unforgettable night. Having spent the day exploring the city's historic charm, I was ready for something more... exotic. I had heard whispers of a drag queen bar crawl that promised an experience like no other, and I was determined to dive headfirst into the adventure.
As the sun set and the city came alive with neon lights and thumping bass, I made my way to the designated meeting point, a dive bar blasting heavy rock music. The energy was electric, and I could feel the anticipation building in the air. Then, she walked in. The lead drag queen, a vision of glamour and confidence, commanded the room with her mere presence. Tall, skinny, and perfectly made up, she oozed sex appeal and charisma.
I was hooked. "Welcome, darlings!" she purred, her voice a sultry melody. "Tonight, we're going to show you a Savannah you've never seen before. But first, let's start with a drink. Our signature cocktail is a must-try!" I ordered the mysterious concoction, and as I sipped the potent elixir, I could feel the alcohol coursing through my veins, loosening my inhibitions.
By the time we reached the second bar, a second drag queen had joined our merry band, and the night was just getting started. We danced, we laughed, and we drank. The bachelorette party next to us was in full swing, and I found myself caught up in their joyful chaos.
As the night wore on, we visited two more bars, each one more vibrant and lively than the last. The energy was infectious, and I could feel my worries melting away. As we stopped in the city center, a very feminine man, a friend of the drag queen tour guides, joined us. With a mischievous grin, he challenged us to walk down the paved walkway like we were on a catwalk. Feeling invincible, I sashayed with confidence, drawing admiring glances from the crowd. It seemed that my newfound boldness had piqued their interest. The last three bars were a blur of grinding bodies and flirty glances. The drag queens were all over me, their touch sending electric shocks through my body.
As the night drew to a close, they revealed that they had visited the gay bar I had explored the previous night and invited me to join them. I eagerly accepted, and we found ourselves in a cozy corner of the bar, sipping on cocktails and sharing stories. As the clock struck 2 AM, I decided it was time to call it a night. The drag queens, however, had other plans. They suggested taking a shortcut through a dimly lit alley, and in my inebriated state, I agreed without hesitation.
Once we were out of sight, the shorter drag queen pinned me against the wall, her lips crashing onto mine. As we kissed passionately, the feminine man began unzipping my pants, his hands expertly pulling out my cock. I was rock hard, but in the heat of the moment, I didn't realize it was him until I felt his warm mouth envelop me.
The tall drag queen, meanwhile, was filming the entire scene on her phone, capturing every steamy moment. The shorter drag queen broke away, turned around, and hiked up her skirt, revealing a perfectly toned ass. I thrust into her with abandon, the alley echoing with our moans of pleasure.
As I pounded away, the feminine man jumped on my dick, and I threw him up against the wall, fucking him with relentless intensity. The tall drag queen, not one to be left out, pulled down my pants further and spat on my ass before shoving her huge cock into me. I was being fucked from both ends, a sensation that sent waves of ecstasy crashing through my body. Eventually, the shorter drag queen and the feminine man shot their loads, leaving me panting and drenched in sweat.
The tall drag queen, however, was far from done. She threw me over a metal barrel in the alley and fucked me with a ferocity that left me breathless. I exploded all over the barrel as she ripped my hole apart, her cock pounding into me with unrelenting force. As I lay there, exhausted and drunk, I felt her tense up, and she unloaded her juices into my ass, churning them into butter with each powerful thrust.
As the night came to an end, I lay on the ground, spent and satisfied. The drag queens, with smirks on their faces, told me to meet them at the bar the next night, promising a surprise that would top even this incredible experience.
My body ached in the most profound way when consciousness slowly returned. The first thing I registered was the cold, hard pavement beneath my cheek and the foul smell of damp garbage and stale beer. The alley. I was still in the alley. The drag queens were gone.
I tried to push myself up, my muscles screaming in protest. My head was pounding, a brutal rhythm that matched the dull, throbbing ache in my ass. My jeans were a ruined mess, tangled around my ankles. As I fumbled to pull them up, my fingers brushed against a large, jagged rip right over the seat. The tall queen, Vesper, hadn't just pulled them down in her frenzy; she’d literally torn the denim apart to get to my hole. The memory of her massive cock splitting me open sent a shiver through me, a confusing mix of residual pleasure and lingering soreness. I was a wreck. My shirt was torn, my body sticky with sweat and cum, and I smelled like a back alley whorehouse.
Stumbling to my feet, I swayed, the world tilting dangerously. I had to get back to my hotel. Using the grimy brick wall for support, I shuffled my way out of the alley and onto the deserted street. The walk was a blur of hazy streetlights and my own ragged breath. Every step was a reminder of the night's depravity, my ass cheeks rubbing against the rough, torn edges of my jeans. Finally, the ornate facade of my hotel came into view. The lobby was a beacon of sterile, respectable light, a world away from the filth I was marinated in. I just had to make it across the marble floor and into the elevator.
I pushed through the revolving doors, trying to be as inconspicuous as a disheveled, cum-stained man with a hole ripped in his pants could be. I kept my head down, aiming for the bank of elevators. "Sir?" a voice called out. I froze. It was the front desk clerk, a handsome young guy with dark, knowing eyes and a name tag that read 'Liam'. He was leaning against the counter, a smirk playing on his lips. "Rough night?" he asked, his gaze pointedly dropping to my ass.
My face burned with shame. "Something like that," I mumbled, trying to hurry past.
"Hold on," he said, his tone shifting from playful to commanding. He came out from behind the counter. "You've got a... tear. Right there." He reached out and his finger gently traced the edge of the ripped denim, sending an involuntary jolt through my body. "Looks like you had a lot of fun." His voice was a low murmur, meant only for me. "I get off in an hour. Room 314, right?" I just nodded, utterly mortified and bizarrely intrigued. "Good," he said, his smile widening. "Go get cleaned up. I'll be up to tuck you in."
I practically ran to the elevator, my mind reeling. I didn't remember giving him my room number, but I must have at check-in. In my room, I peeled off my ruined clothes and stood under a scalding hot shower, letting the water wash away the grime and the shame. But it couldn't wash away the anticipation coiling in my gut. I collapsed onto the bed, naked, and fell into a deep, dreamless sleep.
I was jolted awake by the sound of my hotel room door clicking open and closing softly. I blinked, my eyes adjusting to the dim light. It was Liam. He was stripped down to his boxers, his lean, muscular body a shadow in the moonlight filtering through the window. He didn't say a word, just crossed the room and pulled back the covers, his eyes roaming over my naked form. He climbed onto the bed, moving with a predatory grace that was both terrifying and incredibly sexy. He settled between my legs, his already hard cock pressing against my entrance.
"You look like you were used well," he whispered, his breath hot against my ear. "But you're not finished yet." He spat on his hand, slicked his cock, and then pushed into me in one smooth, deep stroke. The pain was immediate, a sharp, burning intrusion that made me cry out. But beneath the pain was a dark, thrilling pleasure. This was what my body had been conditioned for tonight.
He began to fuck me with a slow, deliberate rhythm, his hips grinding against mine, his cock hitting that spot deep inside me that made my toes curl. It wasn't the frantic, animalistic fucking from the alley; this was a calculated, possessive claiming. He wrapped a hand around my throat, not squeezing, just holding me in place as he drove into me again and again. My own cock was rock hard, leaking onto my stomach.
"Such a good boy," he grunted, picking up the pace. "Taking it so well. You were made for this, weren't you?" I could only moan in response, my body completely at his mercy. He fucked me harder, his thrusts becoming more forceful, more demanding. The bed frame began to smack against the wall, a rhythmic percussion that filled the quiet room.
He shifted his angle, and every thrust now sent a bolt of pure electricity through my prostate, making my vision blur. I was completely lost to it, a vessel for his pleasure, my own need building to an unbearable peak. He leaned down, his lips brushing against my ear. "I'm going to fill you up," he growled, his voice a low, possessive rumble that vibrated through my entire body. "Gonna breed this hole until it's overflowing." The filthy promise was my undoing. My back arched off the bed, a silent scream tearing from my throat as my cock exploded, painting my chest and stomach with thick ropes of cum. The clenching of my ass around his dick sent him over the edge. With a final, brutal shove, he buried himself to the hilt and let out a guttural moan. I felt him pulse inside me, a hot flood of his seed filling my ass, just as he'd promised. He stayed there, his weight pinning me down, his cock still twitching deep within me as we both struggled to catch our breath.
He didn't pull out. Instead, he shifted slightly, wrapping his arms around my chest and rolling us onto our sides. His softening dick remained lodged in my hole, a warm, possessive plug. I could feel his cum, a liquid heat, seeping slowly into me.
The room was quiet now, save for our slowing heartbeats. I felt utterly spent, used in a way that went far beyond the physical. I was a collection of sensations: the sticky mess on my stomach, the dull ache in my jaw from his hand, the pleasant, throbbing fullness in my ass, and the overwhelming warmth of the body curled around mine. It was a strange, unexpected intimacy. He nuzzled his face into the back of my neck, his breathing evening out.
Within minutes, his breathing deepened into the slow, steady rhythm of sleep. I was trapped, his body a cage, his cock an anchor. But I didn't want to escape. I lay there in the darkness, the events of the night replaying in my mind—the wild, public abandon with the drag queens, the brutal violation in the alley, and now this, this strangely tender, possessive claiming by the handsome hotel clerk. It was a symphony of depravity, and I had been the unwilling, yet willing, instrument. As my own eyelids grew heavy, a single thought drifted through my exhausted mind: what the hell was going to happen on Day 3?
