Tattoo Ch. 04: Pizza Man

My life had turned strangely since I woke up one morning with the nickname 'CUMSLUT' tattooed across my forehead.

I've always been discreetly bisexual, but I recently had involved myself more in the gay dating scene across the city. One night, when I was clubbing with friends, we slowly got separated as we dropped by one venue after another. By the time, I met the mysterious man now known to me as Vance, I was quite drunk and very horny. I went home with the charismatic stranger, and I attempted fellatio on him. I failed miserably; I barely remember vomiting and passing out on him.

The next day, I was astonished to discover the inscription across the top of my face. Naturally self-conscious about showing a tattoo that would disgrace me, I wore a cap to hide it any time I might encounter someone. In spite of this precaution, several people had seen the word on my forehead. That's the second twist in my story: a vagrant, a pizza delivery guy, grocery story clerks, a tattooist with whom I consulted about the removal of my tattoo, and the police I discussed this strange assault with; there might be a few others—when these men saw the tattoo, it was like a spell came over them; it was as if they had to take my mouth or ass. They demanded and I acquiesced each time with a submission I had never felt before. It was as if I was entranced and seduced by the 'CUMSLUT' label; I began to suck cocks and give my ass to almost any man who looked at that tattoo. I did so with excitement and passion. It was as if writing the word on me had made it so.

Today alone, I had been taken by both a consulting tattooist and two cops at the police station before five o'clock.

And I had ordered a pizza for seven, all according to the plans of the nameless pizza delivery guy who dominated me one night while he was dropping off my meal. After that encounter, he demanded my phone number so he could text me instructions.

Since then, in less than a week, he had broken in my ass ten times or so, arriving at my door often at the beginning of his delivery shift and sometimes showing up after; he had even occasionally shown up during his off-hours. Even after having sex with him, I still didn't know his name.

Now that I was home, I took a long shower and did a thorough job of cleaning out my ass. I kept my head shaved, and I showed it the razor as the water streamed over me. I washed down the rest of my body and got out of the shower; since it was cool, I waited in my housecoat.

The seven-p.m. delivery arrived on time with a knock at my apartment door. As I had nothing covering my tattoo, I went to the door and looked out the peephole. It was him, of course. I threw aside my housecoat; it landed on a living room chair and threw open the door fully in the nude as Pizza Guy's text message had demanded.

There stood my most regular lover. He was youthful, perhaps twenty-five and reddish-haired with a matching ruddy complexion. He had a double-chin and wore a band of extra flesh around his mid-section. His ass was strangely petite for so large a man. His shoulders were wide and rounded. He was uniformed as a team member of the local pizzeria.

"I've only got ten minutes," he said, pushing himself through the doorway. He set the pizza down on my coffee table. I closed the door on the apartment hallway. I was disappointed that the visit would be so short, but I was used to these trysts at the start of his shift being brief.

I paid for the pizza; I had the money waiting on a table near the door. He kept the change for a tip. He opened the buckle of his pants and pulled his pants and underwear down to his knees before taking a seat, bare-ass on my couch. He spread his legs wide to give me room to approach.

Then he said, "Get on my cock."

I needed little urging. I fell to my knees in front of him and popped his instant boner in my mouth. It wasn't a large cock, but serviceable at about five inches. I twisted my tongue around his uncut penis, inspiring spirals of sensation in my lover. I soon inhaled more of his cock, an inch, two, three, four... I was careful to keep my teeth safely behind my lips as I began to suck him. I kept my tongue against the sensitive underside of his organ as my lips and cheeks massaged the rest of him. I jerked back and forth, my head bouncing over his cock. I was doing something right; I could hear him gasping and I savoured the familiar salty tang of his pre-cum in my mouth.

After five minutes or so, he checked his phone for the time. I was afraid he was going to use the phone to record me on video, but he never did. I don't know if he considered himself straight or gay, whether he was a closeted homosexual or a heterosexual opportunist. But God, he could fuck.

And that was exactly what he wanted to do next.

I reluctantly backed off of his delicious cock. He rose off the couch and let me stand back. I picked up the tube of lubricant I had sitting ready on a table beside the couch, squeezed it and applied the lube first to his erection and then to my ass. I had known to keep the K-Y in the living room as that's where all our encounters took place. He was not interested in going into the bedroom, for some reason. The first time he fucked me, I came against the fabric of the couch and the stain was a bitch to get out. Now, I kept an old blanket folded up on the back of the couch for his visits, and I draped it over the couch. Then, I assumed the position he wanted me in, with me on all fours.

He pressed his wood against my asshole for a moment, as if giving me time to prepare; then, he slowly and inexorably pushed his cock in as far as it would go. With the loosening up I'd had lately, he entered me easily. By the time the hairs on his balls were tickling my ass cheeks, he was in me up to the hilt. I let out a groan and so did Pizza Man. I think it was pure pleasure for both of us.

"Fuck me, Pizza Man," I demanded.

Now that he was inside me, he began to pump my ass vigorously. He was on the clock, and if he was longer than ten minutes, he'd be missed at work. With each flex of his hips against my buttocks, he gathered speed. He probed my innards relentlessly in search of his release. Impaled on his cock, I helped him toward his orgasm by thrusting back with all my strength against him, aiding his deep penetration. I was young and naturally tight, but I began to contract my asshole even more tightly. This increased his contact and stimulation, and mine too.

"That's right, you dirty skank; squeeze me with your ass."

After about four to five minutes, Pizza Man let out a deep breath and emptied his balls into my intestines. I felt his spasms inside me as I continued to contract my ass-ring tight around his member. When he pulled out, there was a plop and some of his thin, watery semen ran down the inside of my leg.

He reached down and picked up a corner of the blanket I was lying on and wiped his wet cock on it. Then he zipped up and buttoned his pants and turned toward the door.

I cried out to him.

"Wait!"

He turned and looked at me. I hadn't yet come and I was desperate, but when I looked at his face, I knew he didn't care. I would just have to rub one out later. So, instead of asking him to help finish me off, I just asked him what his name was; after all, I couldn't keep calling him 'Pizza Man'.

He grinned. After fucking about a dozen times, he finally told me his name was Curtis. I introduced myself, but he just laughed.

"Your name is Cumslut as far as I'm concerned."

I nodded, unashamed at this point. A part of me really enjoyed the degradation.

As Curtis opened the apartment door to leave, someone else filled the doorway. He had apparently been about to knock. He asked Curtis if I was here; it was a good thing we had just introduced ourselves, or he wouldn't have been able to confidently answer the question. Curtis raised a thumb over his shoulder.

"That's him," Curtis said.

I was able to see past Curtis. The man was Constable Mayhew, one of my afternoon lovers and a member of the local police force. I imagined what he saw when he looked past Curtis: a naked man on a dirty blanket, cum leaking from his open and well-used asshole. I tried to wind the filthy blanket around myself, making at least a token attempt at decency.

The policeman moved aside and allowed Curtis to leave my apartment. Then he stepped inside himself and closed the door. He was tall and lean, dark-haired and handsome.

"Who was that?" Mayhew asked.

"Pizza delivery man," I said.

"That tattoo is true. You really do open your mouth and legs for anyone that comes along, don't you?"

I blushed. How could I deny the truth? Many men had taken advantage of me since I was marked as a cumslut, but none of them—not one—had forced me to fuck them or suck them. I had submitted to their advances without the will to resist.

"Well, I just got off my shift and came to tell you something," Mayhew said. He locked my apartment door. "But it can wait. Seeing you prone like this has turned me on. I want to fuck you again, but first, I want you to taste my dick."

I'd had an erection since Curtis arrived at my apartment, and it persisted. I needed to get off desperately, and I was game for anything if it meant I'd get my rocks off. I slid off the blanket and fell to my knees before Constable Mayhew. I opened my mouth wide and stuck out my tongue, ready and willing to suck the sap from his wood.

He unbuckled his belt with its gun and handcuffs and such. Setting it aside carefully, he opened his fly and popped the button. He slid his pant legs and underwear down to his mid-thighs, exposing his cock. I didn't see his cock when he fucked me earlier. Now it bounced before me at my kneeling eye-level. It was long and thin and wrapped in its foreskin.

I sucked him into my mouth and was rewarded with a scented flavour treat. He clearly hadn't had a shower since fucking me earlier. He had worn a condom when he screwed my ass earlier, and his penis was still redolent of cum from that encounter. The smell and taste of his stale jizz aroused me; I wanted more, always more. My mouth watered as I bounced my head on his cock. I wanted to taste more of his ejaculate, just as I had done for Mayhew's superior, Detective Masters, at the police station that afternoon.

I took a short break from sucking him in order to lick and nip at his hairy balls. I dragged my tongue over one ball and then the other; one of his testicles pulled up slightly in the ball-sack. My tongue traipsed into his groin and I inhaled his manly scent. This turned me on, but Mayhew was aroused too.

"Suck it," he said.

I obeyed, going down on him with my most refined technique. Nobody had taught me to give a blowjob, but I knew what felt good and what didn't from my experience as the occasional recipient of oral sex. The frequent blowjobs were increasing my stamina; my tongue was a well-developed muscle now and my jaw was becoming used to the fatigue. I was determined that Mayhew would be as pleased with me as he ever had been with any cocksucker.

I used my entire mouth on the job. My tongue throbbed against the underside of his cock, while my cheeks caved in under the pressure I applied to sucking his dick. Even my teeth allowed the occasional, gentle nip. This went on for several minutes: me choking myself on his cock and the policeman groaning. I thought he was getting close to coming when he pushed me back and ended the blowjob.

"Fuck, get on the couch, over on your hands and knees!"

I complied. He used his 'cop voice' to command me and it turned me on. Once again, as that afternoon, I heard Mayhew unwrapping a condom. He snapped it in place and knelt on the couch behind me.

"Spread your legs."

He clapped hands on my butt-cheeks and pulled them to each side. My puckered hole awaited his entry.

It was not a long wait. For the second time in half-an-hour, a penis penetrated my anus. The passage was well lubricated with my Pizza Man's cum and his entry passed easily and painlessly. I was well-opened by my recent sexual adventures. Mayhew began to thrust inside me, soon finding a comfortable rhythm. He'd come once already today, as I well knew, so he might last a little longer this time; maybe long enough to bring me to orgasm.

My pecker bounced wildly below me as Mayhew pounded my backside; it spewed thin strings of pre-cum which dropped on the filthy blanket. Between the action in my ass and the accidental stimulation of my penis, I was close to coming myself. I groaned and moaned and mewed like a little bitch under Mayhew and I think he enjoyed the fact that he had this power over me.

But before I could come, Mayhew barked a series of grunts as he shuddered through a powerful orgasm. I helped the moment by squeezing my asshole and constricting around his cock. The condom had spared me the splashing in my bowels that usually made me feel a complete whore.

He withdrew unsentimentally. He was still breathing hard when he zipped up and asked me for a plastic bag within which he might deposit the condom. I remembered thinking that afternoon that he seemed careful not to leave his DNA in me, perhaps thinking I might accuse him of sexual impropriety. If he took the condom with him, he was leaving as little evidence as possible. I didn't care. I got off. I pointed him to the kitchen and told him where to get some plastic sandwich bags.

When he came out of the kitchen with his baggy, he was composed, casual and confident.

"Okay, so the reason I came over was to tell you I did some follow-up on your case. Called the other guys who complained of the legendary Vance marking them up with naughty names. One of them said they have a little group and get together to support each other. Apparently, there are more of them than just the ones who reported it to police. He wanted your contact information, but of course we don't give that kind of information out to just anyone. Anyway, he asked me to give you his information in case you want to call him. It's on this card."

He flipped a card out of a pocket and passed it to me. I was reclining on the couch, my dirty ass still dripping from my encounter with Curtis onto that dirty blanket. My cock, denied release, was still standing, but I was also winded from being fucked by Pizza Man and Constable Mayhew back-to-back. I reached out and took the card. The face of the card was Mayhew's printed official police department contact card. The back of the card had the handwritten information: a name and contact phone number.

Others like me? Would they be an impotent revenge society or a straightforward mutual support group? Maybe they had a lead that could bring me face-to-face with Vance.

The thought surprised me. I had thought before of having Vance charged by the police, but this was the first time it occurred to me to pursue the 'urban legend' myself. What would I do if I did meet Vance again? Would I have the power to resist him, much less the might to subdue him? Strength hadn't been my defining trait over the last few days.

Mayhew interrupted my reverie.

"You're a good fuck. If you need more pipe up your ass, call me. I'll be in touch with you about the investigation as it goes forward. We may have more questions. Good luck if you decide to go to group. Try to get the ones who haven't come forward to make a complaint." Yes, I was sure he'd like others tattooed like me to come forward when I considered how Mayhew and Masters had used me that afternoon.

Without further discussion or farewell, Mayhew unlocked the apartment door and walked out, leaving it wide open.

I bolted from the couch and closed the door before someone passing by should see me naked with my inviting tattoo and take advantage. I'd been fucked enough today. I was content... for now. I hadn't come, but I was willing to just rub one out in the shower. The tattoo had altered my sex drive strangely: already, a new hunger was starting to build toward my next sexual encounter.

I wrapped myself in my cum-rag blanket and walked over to the kitchen counter. I picked up my phone. Before I could fall into a post-sex lethargy, I placed a call to the number Mayhew had given me for one "Mike Falkengren". I left my name and contact details with his voicemail, hoping Mayhew hadn't given me a wrong number and wasn't playing a practical joke.

Then I made another call to a tattooist named Heinz, making a consultation appointment for four p.m. the next day. The first tattoo artist I had spoken to told me it would take months to remove this tattoo. I hoped for better news from another professional in the field. Appointment confirmed, I put down my phone. Then I picked it up again and entered Mayhew's number into my contacts. I told myself it wasn't just so I could let him fuck me again, but rather to follow up on my case.

I ate a slice of the pizza Curtis dropped off and threw the rest in the fridge.

I showered, cramming my left-hand fingers into my well-fucked hole while I pulled my pud with the right hand. It didn't take me five minutes to come. I leaned into the spray and the silvery liquid ran down my body and down the drain. I washed thoroughly before I dragged my fatigued, overused, naked body to bed. There was a pleasant aching tingle in my bowels, and my jaw was tired.

As I fell asleep, I found my mind lingering on the day's encounters. There hadn't been a day since this started that I hadn't been either fucked or face-fucked. I smiled as I lay down to sleep, thoughts of revenge against Vance receded for a while, as my dreams, like my days, were full of sex. I had never been this horny even when I was a teenager. I drifted into my fantasies and fell away to sleep.

Tomorrow was going to be another race to the finish line. Perhaps I would make more effort to keep myself chaste tomorrow, if only to prove to myself it could be done. My willpower must be put to the test. Could I resist the demands of those expecting me to match my tattoo label? Had my 'cumslut' tattoo destroyed my will?

Tomorrow would be another test and who could say whether I would pass or fail?

Time would tell.