r/gaystoriesgonewild

I could still feel the bass from the party in the living room. I was in the kitchen, standing by the counter, drinking a glass of water, trying to get three minutes of peace. I was twenty, gay, and proud of it. Living in a frat house was fun but could sometimes be a bit overwhelming.

I didn't get my three minutes. The door was pushed open, and a wave of cheap cologne and stale beer smell came into the kitchen.

It was Hunter.

He was twenty-two, the chapter's vice president, and my personal nightmare. He was good looking guy, broad shoulders, large chest, but also a homophobic bully.

For the past year, he had made it his personal mission to target me. It was always the same routine: loud, homophobic jokes when his friends were around, shoulder-checking me when crossing me, and constantly drawing attention to the fact that I as a gay men did not belong in his macho world.

"Well, look who is here, our little faggot" Hunter sneered "Didn't think you liked these parties, Leo. Aren't there too many girls around for you?"

I rolled my eyes, taking a sip of my water. "I'm just hydrating, Hunter, taking a little brake. You can go back to flexing for the freshmen now."

He didn't leave. He came closer, invading my personal space. He was sweaty, and from the smell of his breath I guess that he probably had a few drinks too much.

"You're always so damn cocky," Hunter muttered, looking at me. He crossed his arms over his chest, his bicep straining against the fabric of his polo. "That's so typical for you guys. Always strutting around campus like you own the place. Checking the guys out. Undressing us with your eyes"

"What is your problem?" I asked.

"You guys are my problem," he snapped. "Faggots. Dirty little cock-suckers who can't keep their eyes and their mouths to themselves."

His voice was low, aggressive. He shifted his weight, and as he did, he deliberately adjusted his junk in his jeans, drawing my eyes downward.

He definitely was a prick, but I couldn't help but notice the considerable bulge pressing against his jeans. He was definitely blessed in that area.

"Real men would never be attracted by guys, especially by a dirty little cocksucker like you"

He smirked, waiting for me to flush, stammer, and retreat, letting him win another round of his twisted, bullying game.

I studied his smirk, then the dark, frantic look underneath it. And suddenly it clicked.

The constant attention. The way he always found reasons to get too close. The insults that somehow always circled back to what I did in bed.

It wasn't just hatred.

It was obsession.

Maybe he wasn't simply homophobic.

Maybe he needed something he couldn't admit to himself, something he was starving for.

I wondered if he was a closeted guy hiding behind the bully act, looking for sex, for proof, for someone to finally call his bluff.

Only one way to find out.

I set my glass on the counter and stepped straight into his space. The smirk vanished.

"Real men?" I asked quietly. "You mean a real man like you?"

I moved my hand to the front of his jeans, and pulled him closer, with the other hand moving to his crotch, cupping it. It confirmed my suspicion. Yes, he had a big dick. But more importantly, it wasn't soft. I could clearly feel it was semi hard, pushing against the fabric of jeans.

Before his brain could process what was happening, I pulled him closer to me. He tumbled forward, a surprised gasp coming out of his mouth, as I dragged him three feet across the floor and shoved him in the dark, cramped kitchen pantry.

For a guy who spent five days a week in the gym, he offered zero resistance.

The pantry door locked with a solid click.

I didn't give him much time to recover. I noticed the bulge in his pants was even bigger now, his jeans stretching as he was getting harder.

My hand moved to his crotch.

"Oh," I murmured, voice low and deliberate. "Look at that." I squeezed once, slow. Hunter's breath punched out of him.

"Our straight boy is getting excited being shoved around by a faggot like me"

"Shut the fuck up," he hissed, but the words had no force. His hands hovered near my wrists like he couldn't decide whether to shove me away or drag me closer.

I stroked his dick through the fabric. He was fully erect now, straining against the front of his jeans. I could feel the heat radiating through the denim, how his cock twitched under my fingers when I moved my hand over it.

"All year you've been insulting me. The stupid gay jokes. The shoulder checks. Adjusting your dick every time I got close, just to tease me."

I leaned in until my lips nearly brushed his ear.

"You weren't trying to scare me, were you, boy? You were hoping I'd take the bait. You could've just asked, you know. I'm into straight, horny boys like you."

His hips jerked forward against my hand before he could stop them.

I popped the button of his jeans and dragged the zipper down. Hunter's hands finally moved, trying to cover himself..

"Don't," he muttered, voice cracking. "I'm not gay. I'm not ..."

I shoved his jeans and boxer briefs down in one hard pull. His cock sprang free, heavy and already wet at the tip, slapping against his stomach before settling thick and hot in the open air.

"Sorry Hunter, but you're big friend down here doesn't really seem to agree", I smiled

Hunter again tried to cover himself, one big hand half-shielding, half-stroking out of pure reflex. "Leo, wait...I'm not...this is...." he scrambled.

I didn't pull back. I kept my mouth close to his ear, voice low.

"You're not what? Not hard? Not leaking into your own hand right now?" I let my lips brush the shell of his ear.

"You can still say no. I'll stop. But if you want this, if you want me on my knees sucking that big dick of yours, then take your hand away and let me."

I waited, not moving, giving him the space to decide.

Hunter's breath hitched. His fingers flexed once, twice... then slowly slid aside, exposing himself.

"Fuck... Okay. Do it."

That was all I needed, I dropped to my knees without another word.

I took a moment to admire Hunter's cock. Eight inches of pure masculine meat. The shaft flushed dark and rigid, veins standing out in thick, twisting ropes along the underside. The head was fat, already shiny with precum, the slit leaking a drop that rolled down over the ridge.

The second my tongue dragged slowly up the underside from base to tip, Hunter made a sound that was pure heaven. A deep moan that he tried, and failed, to suppress. He pushed his hips forward, slightly spreading his legs, as if he was trying to give me maximum access to his cock and balls.

I licked lower, dragging my tongue over the low hanging balls, then took one of them in my mouth, sucking gently while my tongue worked against the smooth skin.

Hunter's breath hitched in surprise, a sharp "Fuck..." escaping before he could stop it. Then I switched to the other, drawing it in just as carefully. His hips jerked and a low, helpless groan came out of him.

I didn't want to tease him much longer. I opened my mouth and took him straight down.

The head of his cock hit the back of my throat and I kept going, relaxing, swallowing around the thick intrusion until my nose was pressed in his neatly trimmed pubic hair at the base.

Hunter's whole body seized. His hands slammed into the wire shelves above my head for balance, cans rattling.

"Holyfuck...Leo..."

I stayed buried, my throat working around him, until his thighs started to shake. Then I pulled back slow, dragging my tongue along every inch, and took him all the way down again. No gag. No struggle.

Hunter's voice cracked completely. "Jesus Christ.... how the fuck are you... nngh... shit man, this feels sooo good ...."

I pulled off just long enough to speak "You spent two semesters calling me a cocksucker like it was an insult. Guess what, Hunter, it's not. I'm really fucking good at it."

Then I took him again, deeper, faster, one hand wrapping the base so I could stroke what my throat couldn't quite claim on every pass.

The other hand slid between his legs, cupping his heavy balls, stroking them while I sucked.

Hunter's hips started moving on their own short, desperate thrusts he couldn't stop. Every time the head of his cock punched into my throat he made another wrecked noise, trying to keep quiet and failing. His fingers tangled in my hair, not pushing me away, just holding on like he was drowning.

I worked him until his legs were trembling and his cock was pulsing hard. Then I pulled off with a wet pop and stood, wiping the corner of my mouth with the back of my hand.

Hunter was breathing like he'd just run a marathon. His cock stood out rigid and shiny, the head dark and leaking.

"Fuck me," I said.

He stared at me in the dark, eyes wide. "What?"

"You heard me. You've been talking all year about what a real man would do to me. Prove it."

I stepped in close, gripping his cock and giving it one slow stroke.

"Fuck me. Right here. Slam that big hard cock deep in my ass"

Something in him snapped.

Hunter spun me around, shoved me face-first against the shelves, and yanked my jeans and underwear down in one brutal motion.

Cool air hit my skin. I heard him fumbling, cursing under his breath, then the soft thunk of a bottle being grabbed off a shelf.

Olive oil.

He poured it over his cock. I could hear the wet, slippery schlick of his fingers working the oil in. Then he spread my ass cheeks, rough and urgent, and with his had spreading the oil around my hole, lubing it.

He just lined that thick head up against my tight hole. And then he pushed. He wasn't gentle. I felt my hole stretching as he pushed the head in. Hunter's cock was big, genuinely, stupidly big and he didn't ease in. He didn't slow down.

He forced his way deeper with short, grinding thrusts until his hips touched my ass and every inch of him of his fat cock was buried inside me.

"Fuck," he groaned, forehead dropping against the back of my neck. "You're so goddamn tight, feels so fucking good"

I pushed back against him, pushing him even deeper. "Fuck me stud. Show this faggot what it is to be fucked by a real man"

He did.

Hunter fucked me like he'd been starving for it. Deep, hard strokes that made the shelves rattle and the cans shift.

His hands held my hips while he fucked me. Every thrust dragged over my prostate, sending shivers down my spine. I couldn't stay quiet. I moaned into the dark, loud enough that anyone standing right outside the door might have heard it.

"You like that?" I managed between thrusts, voice low and teasing. "Fucking a gay ass… this is what you wanted all along, isn't it? Say it."

Hunter's rhythm stuttered. He growled something incoherent and fucked me harder, the wet slap of skin on skin filling the pantry.

His thick cock was relentless stretching me open with every stroke.

I reached down and wrapped my hand around my own cock, stroking in time with him.

It felt so good, feeling his fat cock in my ass, touching my prostate with every move, while jerking off.

I knew I couldn't last much longer.

"I'm gonna come," I warned, voice wrecked.

Hunter didn't slow down. If anything he drove deeper, chasing it. "Do it. Fucking do it. Shoot"

I came hard, spilling thick strokes of cum on the counter, his cock kept pounding me. My ass was clenching around his fat cock, and Hunter lost whatever control he had left.

He slammed in one final time and stayed buried, cock pulsing as he shot his load deep inside me. The sound he made was half a groan, half a gasp. His body was tight, hips jerking with each spurt

When it finally stopped he stayed pressed against my back, breathing hard, still buried to the hilt. His forehead rested between my shoulder blades.

"Holy shit...," he whispered. "I've never....fuck.... I've never came like that in my life."

I stayed where I was for a long moment, feeling his dick get soft inside me, the mess of oil and cum already starting to drip down my thighs. Then I reached back, found his hip, and gave it a light squeeze.

"Next time," I said quietly, "try asking instead of being a dick about it."

Hunter didn't answer right away. His hand just tightened on my waist, holding on like he wasn't ready to let me go just yet.

I never thought I'd write something like this. My wife died a year ago and the quiet in our house started eating at me. I work as a project manager for a construction company, but coming home to an empty living room every night got harder than I expected. I tried the gym and a couple dating apps, but nothing clicked. Most people my age were already settled or looking for something serious, and I just wanted someone to talk to.

Reddit became my escape. I posted in r/friendship and r/needafriend, hoping to find a guy who wanted to grab a beer or watch a game. That's where I met MidwestMike87. We bonded over the Bears and bad work stories. After a month of texting we met at a sports bar near my place. He was mid-thirties, divorced, worked in sales. We got along easy. Over the next few months we hung out a couple times a week. Nothing weird, just two guys shooting the shit.

The night it happened we were at my house after watching a game. We'd finished a six-pack and moved on to whiskey. He was on the couch, I was in the recliner. He started talking about how long it had been since he'd gotten head. I nodded along, understanding the frustration. Then he said his ex used to blow him whenever he wanted and now he was going months without relief. I laughed at first, but he kept bringing it up. Said he missed the feeling of a warm mouth around his cock.

I was buzzed and feeling generous. When he suggested I help him out, I figured why not. He unzipped and pulled out his cock. It was already hard, thick, with a slight curve. I got on my knees between his legs. The first time sucking dick, I was clumsy but determined. I wrapped my lips around the head, tasting the precum that had already leaked out. My tongue circled the crown while I slowly took more of him into my mouth. He was warm and heavy on my tongue. I started bobbing my head, working my way down his shaft inch by inch. My hand gripped the base and stroked what I couldn't fit yet. He groaned and put his hand on the back of my head, not pushing hard, just resting there. I sucked harder, hollowing my cheeks, letting my saliva coat his entire length. The wet sounds filled the room as I worked him over. He started breathing heavier, his thighs tensing under my hands. When he came, his cock throbbed against my tongue and hot, thick cum shot into my mouth. I swallowed on instinct, feeling the warm load slide down my throat. I kept sucking gently until he was done, making sure I got every drop.

The second time happened about a week later. This time I was more confident. I got on my knees again and took him straight into my mouth. I relaxed my throat and let him push deeper. He held my head with both hands and started thrusting, fucking my face while I sucked. My nose pressed against his pubes each time he bottomed out. Drool ran down my chin but I didn't stop. I focused on breathing through my nose and keeping my throat open. His balls slapped against my chin with each thrust. I could feel him getting close, his cock swelling even more. When he came, it was even more than the first time. Thick ropes of cum flooded my mouth and I swallowed it all down, feeling it coat my throat. Some of it leaked from the corner of my mouth but I licked it up.

After that second time, things changed a little. While I was still on my knees catching my breath, he reached down and grabbed my ass. His hand squeezed one cheek, then slid between them, fingers pressing against my hole through my pants. He asked if I'd ever done anal before. I told him no, but I was willing to try if he wanted. He seemed interested, kept rubbing my ass and talking about how tight I'd probably feel. I was nervous but figured I'd already crossed one line, might as well see where it went. We agreed that next time we'd try it for real. I said yes because I wanted to keep my bro interested, wanted that connection to stay.

Then he just stopped responding. No texts, no calls, nothing. It's been two weeks now. I'm sitting here wondering what the fuck happened. Was my blowjob not good enough? Did I take too long to agree to anal? Should I have offered my ass the first time? I keep replaying everything in my head, trying to figure out where I went wrong. We seemed to get along great before all this. Now I'm just confused as hell. Anyone been in a similar situation? Did I mess this up somehow?

All characters are above the age of 18.

Samantha had been pushing me to explore the bi side of myself for months. Not gently. She brought it up the way she brought up most things she wanted calm, direct, and already decided.

“There’s a gloryhole booth on the edge of town,” she said one night, leaning against the kitchen counter. “Anonymous. Discreet. No faces, no names. Just a wall. I think it would be a good way for you to try it without everything feeling so… personal.”

I hesitated, which she clearly expected.

Later, as we were getting ready to leave, she stopped me in the bedroom.

“I want you wearing something underneath,” she said, holding up a pair of soft, feminine briefs and a thin, fitted tank. “Under your shorts and hoodie. Nothing flashy on the outside. Just so you feel it the whole time.”

I started to shake my head. Samantha simply opened her jacket.

Underneath she was wearing black lace lingerie that left almost nothing to the imagination. She didn’t say a word at first. She just let me look, then spoke quietly.

“This is what I’m wearing for you. Now put those on.”

I caved.

I changed while she watched, then pulled my regular shorts and hoodie over the top. The soft fabric underneath felt foreign against my skin. Samantha gave a small, satisfied nod, grabbed her keys, and we headed out to the car.

She kept one hand on my thigh the entire drive, her thumb moving in slow circles. She didn’t need to say much more. The message was already clear.

We stepped into the booth and the door clicked shut behind us. Samantha shrugged off her jacket without hesitation. I followed her lead, still nervous, the soft fabric under my shorts and hoodie suddenly feeling much more noticeable.

She turned to me, calm and steady.

“Relax,” she said quietly. “You’re not doing this alone.”

We waited. The booth stayed quiet for a few minutes, the only sound the soft shift of fabric as Samantha adjusted her stance. Then a soft thud came from the other side of the wall, followed by the slow appearance of a cock through the hole.

Samantha’s hand settled on the back of my neck, guiding me forward without force but with clear intent.

“Go on,” she murmured. “Just like we talked about.”

I leaned in. She kept her hand there as I took the cock into my mouth, the anonymous weight of it unfamiliar and heavy on my tongue. Beside me, Samantha’s free hand slipped between her own legs, fingers moving slowly while she watched. Her breathing stayed even, controlled, the same quiet dominance she’d had since we left the house.

She didn’t rush me. She simply stayed close, guiding when needed, touching herself as I worked, the booth filled with the soft sounds of what we were doing.

The first guy finished in my mouth with a low grunt from the other side of the wall. I started to pull back, but Samantha’s hand tightened slightly on the back of my neck.

“Give it to me,” she said, voice low and steady.

I turned to her. She leaned in and kissed me, slow and deliberate, taking the cum from my tongue as her fingers kept moving between her legs. The kiss lasted longer than I expected, her tongue sweeping through my mouth until she’d taken all of it.

We barely had time to separate before another cock pushed through the hole. Samantha shifted without hesitation, dropping to her knees in front of it. She looked back at me once, eyes calm and commanding, then took him into her mouth.

I stayed where I was, watching. The way she worked him was practiced and unhurried, one hand braced against the wall, the other still between her own thighs. The soft wet sounds filled the booth. It was hotter than I expected...seeing her like that, fully in control even while she was the one on her knees.

That guy finished in her mouth with a muffled groan from the other side. Samantha held him there a moment longer, then slowly pulled off. She turned to me, still on her knees, and grabbed the back of my head. Her fingers tightened just enough to tilt my face upward.

She leaned in and parted her lips, letting the cum drop from her mouth straight into mine. Thick and warm, it spilled across my tongue as she watched. I swallowed what I could while the rest trickled from the corner of my mouth. My cock strained hard against the soft fabric under my shorts, painfully so, every pulse made worse by the quiet control in her eyes.

Samantha wiped her thumb across my lower lip, then pressed it between my teeth.

“Good,” she said softly.

A third cock pushed through the hole...thicker and longer than the first two. I felt a surge of eagerness and started to lean in, ready to take it, when I heard Samantha’s sharp intake of breath beside me.

“What?” I asked, glancing over.

Her eyes were a little wide. She stared at the base of the cock where the hole was just big enough to show the skin above it. A skull and flames tattoo sat clearly visible.

“I recognize that tattoo,” she whispered. “That’s Garrett.”

We both went still. The only sound in the booth was our breathing and the low, impatient grunt that came from the other side of the wall a second later.

Samantha’s eyes took on an evil glint. Before I could say anything she forced my head forward, pushing me onto Garrett’s thick cock. I opened for him on instinct, the heavy weight of him stretching my mouth as she held me there.

While I sucked she reached into her pocket, pulled out her phone, and started taking photos. The soft click of the camera mixed with the wet sounds of my mouth working him. Holy shit, this was insane...but the hard strain of my cock made it obvious how turned on I was.

Garrett came hard, flooding my mouth with more cum than I thought possible. It spilled past my lips and dribbled down my chin while Samantha kept the phone steady, capturing every second.

The moment he pulled back she was on me. She kissed me hard, tasting him on my tongue, and shoved a hand down the front of my shorts. She freed my cock, yanked her panties aside, and sank down onto me right there in the booth, riding me fast as heavy.

Samantha kept riding me as I came, not slowing down even when the overstimulation started to edge into pain. She only stopped once my cock had softened completely inside her, then climbed off with a satisfied look.

It was clear no one else was coming to the hole. We cleaned up as best we could and got dressed in a hurried, messy way.

We made it back to the car in silence. Once the doors shut, Samantha let out a low breath and glanced over at me.

“Fuck, that was hot,” she said. “Wouldn’t have called that in a million years.”

I nodded, still catching my breath. “Yeah. Same.”

She unlocked her phone and scrolled through the photos she’d taken. “You know… I could send these to Garrett. He has to know it wasn’t just women in those booths.”

I stared at the screen for a moment, the images of me on my knees with his cock in my mouth still clear in my head. After a few seconds I looked at her and said, “Yes.”

Samantha leaned across the console, kissed me hard, and whispered, “I fucking love you.” Then she turned back to her phone and started typing.

We drove home, cleaned up properly, and went out for dinner like nothing unusual had happened. Midway through the meal her phone buzzed. She glanced at the screen, a slow smile spreading across her face, then turned it toward me.

Garrett had replied. He was down...but he had a few requests.

one of my spiciest stories I have happened fairly recently

my older brother lives with some of his friends in an apartment. I travel to see him on occasion and stay with him when I do

one of his roommates recently moved away for a new job. my brother and the other roommates had a sort of “going away party” type thing. I was invited and went

to preface- Ryan (28), the roommate, has always been straight. he’s always had girlfriends here and there, hooked up on occasion, but never had any long term relationships since I knew him, and he never showed any remote signs of being gay…

Ryan is tall- probably 6’2, extremely muscular, has curly brown hair, and a beautiful smile

as you can imagine, at this party, the drinks were flowing. people were having a pretty good time. Ryan and I started talking about how he needed to “go out with a bang” half joking, but half entertaining the idea of going out to try to find a girl to hook up with

Ryan, like nearly everyone in my public life, did not know that I’m bi. I never really was attracted to Ryan just because he was my brother’s friend, so it’s not like I was planning this whole thing out

we were both somewhat drunk but sobering up, still joking about finding some horny girl to tag team on tinder or something

Ryan started complaining that no one on tinder was responding, and none of his usual hookups were responding either

that’s when I decided to make a joke that, until I said it, I didn’t realize i was actually kinda thinking about it…

”well if you can’t find any girls I’ve got a nice ass bro don’t worry” I said, intending to just make a gay joke like a lot of close friends do

he played along

”sure bro. i know you wouldn’t leave me hanging. thanks bro” he responded

we shared a laugh over that, but then my tipsy mind shifted. it shifted entirely. I now realized how sexy Ryan is. if he actually wanted to fuck me, I’d let him. not only that, but my drunken brain wants it to happen.

i couldn’t focus on anything else after that

the party was winding down. almost everyone was gone and the roommates were starting to go to bed. my mind was wide awake

”so no play for you tonight?” I said

”nah man nobody answered. it’s alright I’m tired anyway” he answered

I decided to be bold and see how he responded to another joke, basically saying the same thing as before

”offer still stands bro! I’ll help you out don’t worry” I said, keeping my voice lower so no one heard

”yeah bro for sure I’ll take you up on that right now let’s do it” he responded, still very clearly joking

“you’re joking but you also know my ass is fat… don’t pretend like you don’t know that” I said back, pushing things a bit more

”yeah bro bring it over here then!” he said, still playing along with the joke

i too decided to continue the joke. I continued it by walking over to him and shaking my ass in his face as he sat on his bed

”you know you want it bro. you know you want it” I said, taunting him

he jokingly smacked my ass

”alright bro that’s enough. I’ve gotta go to bed” he said, effectively shutting down what I almost thought was progress

“you’re really gonna just go to bed without getting your nut?” I asked, now almost throwing caution to the wind, wondering when he’ll realize I’m not even joking anymore

”hey man, you can’t make the chicks answer, you know?” He said

“I’m saying though, you don’t need them bro. you‘ve got everything you need right here” I said as I turned around and jiggled my ass again

”yeah yeah bro whatever” he said, brushing it off

”you wouldn’t last 30 seconds in here bro” I said back

”alright bro… I think I need to go to bed” he said back

i thought it was lost, but at this point, I couldn’t tell if I’d made it obvious enough that I was serious

”just let me take care of it. I’m telling you you won’t last 30 seconds bro” I said

”what is this about?” Ryan said with a chuckle

”nothing… all I’m saying is if I bounced on it right now, you’d get your nut, and I guarantee it would be less than 30 seconds”

”yeah right dude… goodnight” he said back

”what are you scared because you know I’m right?“

”I’m starting to think you’re serious…” Ryan said with a concerned look

“I just know I’m right is all” I said, conveniently dodging the question

then, the tide turned. he tried to call my bluff.

”take your pants off then tough guy. I know you’re just fucking with me” Ryan said

”I’m not scared of you bro” I said back

i immediately slid down my jeans and underwear with them, facing away from Ryan, presenting him with only my ass

”you’re the one that’s scared. you wouldn’t last 30 seconds in this” i continued to taunt

there was a pause. a pause long enough to make me wonder if he was actually checking me out

”yeah right bro. I still don’t believe you. anyone can just moon someone else. you’re full of shit” he said

“I’ll sit on your dick right now bro. I’m not scared of you. you’re doing all this talking now… take your dick out and I’ll sit on it right now” I said back to him, trying my hardest to invoke his competitive nature

”you’re full of shit. as soon as i pull out my dick you'll fold. I’m not scared of you either bro” Ryan said back

and then he did It. he pulled out his cock. it was still mostly soft, but I swear it was at least a little bit of a chub… and now all I had to do was win the game of chicken

i walked backward toward Ryan, bare ass out

”just tell me when to stop because I know you’re gonna chicken out” I said

I got no response from Ryan and kept backing up, backing up, backing up toward him. only a couple steps left. still nothing.

I made it to him, and began to lower my ass down toward his cock

“last chance bro. you know i wont lose to you” i said

”you wont do it” he said back

i finished the job. I sat down basically on his lap. on top of his soft cock

but as soon as I sat down, I felt it. I felt a notable, unmistakable twitch beneath me

i stood back up and turned around, my own cock still out and almost fully erect before I could even notice it

”told you I would bro…” I said to him

”I can’t believe you actually just did that. i didn’t think you’d actually…”

I cut him off

”you started getting hard right away. youre not lasting 30 seconds I guarantee it” I said

“I was not getting hard bro. and you know I’d last longer“ he said back, now entertaining my bait question

“prove it then. I just proved my dare”

“you’re not serious” he said back

”I know you've got condoms in here. throw one on and put your money where your mouth is”

“dude… I’m not doing that… what do you mean” he said

”fine. take your loss then. you’re just scared”

without a word, he got up, went to his nightstand, grabbed a condom, and tore open the package. he was now hard. he was liking this more than he wanted to admit…

he didn’t even need to jerk himself to get fully hard. he rolled the condom right on. he grabbed some lube and put it on his cock

also, I should mention, Ryan‘s cock was fucking thick. it was pretty average length, but thick like a fucking soda can almost…

”sit down bro. I’m making you put your money where your mouth is” I said

”i know you’re not gonna do this. go ahead. do it. I know you won’t” he said back, lying back and presenting his now fully hard cock to me

without a word, I walked over, grabbed his cock, and sat down on it.

no words were exchanged. just surprised gasps from both of us reacting to what had just happened

his cock filled me to the brim. like i said, it was fucking thick. going from nothing to his cock was admittedly a bit painful, but I was so fucking turned on I didn’t care

i sat all the way down. ryan’s cock was now fully inside me.

i began to bounce. my feet were off the bed standing on the ground as i squatted up and down, having to stay at a slower rhythm to keep quiet with the roommates

still no words exchanged. I was just doing my best to take in the sensory overload I was experiencing. a guy I’ve known for years to be fully straight was stretching out my asshole with multiple other people I’m close with just on the other side of the walls.

not long after, Ryan’s breathing became quicker. I felt him get even harder. I felt him begin to tense up.

before I knew it, I felt it. I felt his cock pulsate and begin shooting his load into the condom inside me.

we were both struggling immensely to stay quiet. I wanted nothing more than to scream out with pleasure, but I had to stay completely silent, and so did Ryan

after a few powerful shots of cum that I felt from his cock pulsating, Ryan grabbed my hips and thrusted himself into me powerfully for another 30 or so seconds until finally, he went limp, heavy breathing, slumping onto the bed, and his cock finally slid out of me

i must say- I have never seen a condom look so full in my life. I would’ve loved to have seen just how much cum that would have been on my face or my chest.

”that was at least a minute. told you bro” Ryan said, breaking the silence

without really talking about the insanity that had just taken place, we cleaned up, and I left.

Ryan moved away about a week later. he will still come back on occasion, and we have since had some more experiences, and absolutely no one knows about them

thanks for reading if you made it this far ;)

Everyone is 18+ and all acts are consensual

The biology building smelled like old textbooks and bleach at night. I liked it that way. Quiet. Predictable. No one asking questions I didn't want to answer. At 20, I had built my entire college life around staying invisible. Straight As, lab reports turned in early, headphones on when I walked across campus. My attraction to men wasn't something I denied anymore in my own head, but I kept it locked behind closed doors. No apps, no bars, no accidental slips. Control was everything.

Then the professor announced semester project partners and called my name with Jake's. Jake Harlan. Twenty one. Water polo captain. Six foot three of lean muscle, golden skin that looked like it absorbed sunlight even in winter, chestnut hair that fell into his eyes when he laughed. He moved like the water still carried him, smooth and powerful. In class he sat two rows ahead, and I had trained myself not to stare at the way his shoulders filled out his hoodie or how his thighs strained the seams of his jeans when he crossed his legs. We had exchanged maybe fifty words total before that day. Mostly about buffer solutions and gel electrophoresis; polite and professional.

Our project was neuromuscular physiology. Voluntary contraction, reflex arcs, the way nerves fire and muscles respond. We needed data we could feel, the professor said. Hands on. Jake texted me that afternoon. Basement lab. 10 pm. Bring coffee.

I arrived early with two black coffees and my laptop. The hallway lights were dimmed to save energy. Jake was already there, sprawled in one of the rolling chairs, legs spread wide, gym bag at his feet. He wore navy compression shorts that left nothing to the imagination and a faded team tank top soaked dark across the chest from whatever practice he'd just finished. Chlorine clung to him, sharp and clean, mixed with the warmer scent of fresh sweat. My stomach tightened the second I saw him.

"Perfect timing," he said, standing up to take one of the coffees. His fingers brushed mine. Deliberate or not, I couldn't tell. "Ready to get dirty?"

I laughed nervously. "It's just data collection."

He raised an eyebrow. "Sure. But data feels better when its real."

We set up on the long steel bench. Diagrams spread out, electrodes and a simple reflex hammer for the patellar test, notebooks open. Jake leaned over my shoulder to point at the quadriceps illustration. His bare arm pressed against mine. Heat poured off him.

"Textbooks suck for this part," he said. "You can't really understand contraction until you feel it. I'll be the subject. You record."

Before I could protest he gripped the hem of his tank and peeled it off. The fabric stuck for a second to his damp skin, then came free. His torso was a map of hard lines. Broad pecs dusted with faint hair, nipples dark and tight from the cool air, abs carved deep enough to catch shadows under the fluorescents. A thin happy trail led down from his navel and vanished into those compression shorts. My mouth went dry.

"Jake..."

He flexed his arms casually, biceps swelling, veins popping along his forearms. "Start here. Feel the biceps brachii. Contracted versus relaxed."

My hand lifted like it had a mind of its own. I pressed my palm to the thick swell of his upper arm. Hot. Solid. When he flexed harder the muscle jumped under my fingers, rock hard. He let out a low breath through his nose.

"Good," he murmured. "Now the pecs."

I slid my hand down. His chest rose and fell faster now. I cupped one pec, thumb grazing the edge of his nipple. It pebbled instantly. He hissed softly.

"You feel that response?" he asked, voice rougher. "Thats voluntary control. Now do the other one."

I mirrored the touch. His skin was fever hot. My cock was already straining against my jeans, thick and aching. I tried to focus on breathing.

Jakes eyes darkened as he watched me. "Youve been looking at me for weeks, Ethan. Dont think I havent noticed. The way your gaze lingers when I stretch after class. When I pull my hoodie off in the lecture hall. You want to know what it feels like, don't you?"

My face burned. "I didn't mean..."

"Shh." He caught my wrist and guided my hand lower, over the ridges of his abs, stopping just above the waistband. "No lying. Not here. Not tonight."

He hooked his thumbs into the shorts and shoved them down in one motion. They puddled at his ankles. His cock swung free, thick and heavy, already thickening. Uncut, the foreskin partially retracted to reveal a flushed head already shiny with a bead of pre-cum. Veins traced the shaft like rivers on a map. His balls hung low, full and smooth. The scent hit me hard, musk and clean sweat and something darker, primal.

"Touch it," he said quietly. "Get your data."

My fingers closed around the base. He was scorching, velvet over iron. As I stroked upward the foreskin slid back fully, exposing the swollen head. More precum welled and coated my palm. Jake groaned, hips rocking forward into my grip.

"Slow," he instructed. "Feel every inch. Watch how it responds."

I obeyed, sliding my fist up and down, twisting lightly at the crown. His cock lengthened to nine solid inches, girth stretching my fingers apart. The head glistened, angry red and dripping. His abs clenched with each stroke, a thin sheen of sweat breaking across his chest again.

"Fuck, your hand feels good," he breathed. "But I want more. Get on your knees."

I dropped without thinking. The tile was cold against my shins. His cock bobbed inches from my face, heavy and leaking. I leaned in and licked the slit, tasting salt and heat. Jake shuddered.

"Open your mouth, boy."

I parted my lips. He fed the head past them, stretching my mouth wide. The taste exploded on my tongue, musky and addictive. I sucked harder, swirling around the ridge. He threaded his fingers through my hair and pushed deeper.

"Deeper, Ethan. Relax your throat. Take it all."

I gagged once, eyes watering, but he held me steady. "Breathe. Through your nose. Good boy. Just like that."

He started thrusting, slow and deep, fucking my mouth with measured strokes. Drool ran down my chin, mixing with his steady leak of precum. My own cock throbbed painfully, untouched, soaking through my boxers. Every time he bottomed out his balls tapped my chin, heavy and warm.

Minutes blurred. My jaw ached in the best way. Jake pulled out suddenly, cock slick and shining, strings of saliva connecting us. "Strip. I want to see your body too."

I stood on shaky legs and yanked off my hoodie, t shirt, jeans. When my briefs came down my erection sprang free, six and a half inches, painfully hard, the tip shiny with precum. Jake looked me over like I was something he had been waiting to unwrap.

"Beautiful," he growled. He stepped behind me, chest to my back, cock sliding hot and wet between my cheeks. "Hands on the bench."

I braced myself. He spit into his palm, coated his cock, then pressed two thick fingers against my hole. I gasped as the first one breached me, burning stretch that melted into pleasure when he crooked it against my prostate. A second finger joined, scissoring, opening me up. I pushed back, desperate.

"So tight," he muttered. "Gonna feel fucking incredible."

He pulled his fingers free and lined up. The fat head nudged my entrance. "Breathe."

He pushed in slow. The stretch was intense, almost too much, then the head popped past the ring and he sank deeper, inch by burning inch. When his hips met my ass I moaned loud enough to echo off the walls. Full. Stretched. Owned.

Jake stayed still for a moment, letting me adjust, then started moving. Long, deep rolls at first, dragging his cock over every sensitive spot inside me. Then harder. Faster. Each thrust punched the breath from my lungs. The bench rattled. Skin slapped skin. His balls smacked my ass with every drive.

"You take it so well," he panted. "Look at you, opening up for me. Made for this cock."

His hand wrapped around my dripping length, stroking in perfect time with his brutal rhythm. I was leaking steadily, precum stringing from the tip to the floor. My balls drew up tight.

"Jake... Im close..."

"Come for me," he ordered. "Let me feel you squeeze."

The command shattered me. My orgasm ripped through, cock pulsing hard in his fist, thick ropes shooting across the steel bench and dripping to the tile. My hole clenched rhythmically around him.

"Fuck yes," he groaned. "Milk me."

He slammed in one final time, burying himself to the hilt. His cock swelled, throbbed, then erupted. Hot spurts flooded me, pulse after pulse, filling me until I felt it leaking out around his shaft, running down my thighs in warm rivulets.

We stayed locked together while our breathing slowed. He softened inside me, still twitching. When he pulled out a thick stream of cum followed, sliding down my leg. He turned me around, cupped my face, and kissed me slow and filthy, tongue claiming every corner of my mouth.

"Best data Ive ever collected," he murmured against my lips, smirking. "And we've got the whole semester to replicate the results."

I laughed, boneless and buzzing, already craving the next session.

From now on, every lab session was going to end exactly like this.

This is part three of this story. I'll add links to the other parts in the comments. If you get off on these stories, let me know, it encourages me to carry on writing them.

There was nothing unusual about seeing my straight buddy Adam sprawled out on my couch, legs spread wide, Xbox controller in his hand, whiling away an afternoon gaming. What was different about this Friday afternoon, though, is that my old university housemate Tomas was kneeling between his thick, powerful legs, making out passionately with Adam's hard 7.5" cock and heavy balls.

About an hour had passed since I walked in on my apparently straight friend domming, using, and absolutely pounding my totally shredded, apparently also straight, former roommate from the Czech Republic. I'd seen both of them dating long lines of girls over the years, so I was still trying to wrap my mind around what I'd seen, but my body was running on autopilot in the meantime.

Imagine you're a 6'7", fit, blond, bisexual Dutch guy with an 8" cock, seeing your irrepressibly handsome friend lay back on the couch, with his cock and balls being worshiped by your former university roommate from the Czech Republic. Oh, and that former roommate has a big hairy bubble butt that you've been lusting over for years, which was recently deflowered and bred by your friend, and that ass is now jiggling in the air in front of you.

What would you do?

If your answer was, dive in and start eating that tight, hairy, recently fucked hole and taste the friend's cum inside him, then I like the way you think.

I drove my face between those huge, round, hairy cheeks and got my tongue as deep inside Tomas as I could get, feeling his body momentarily tense and then relax at the intrusion. As invested as he was in his game, even Adam couldn't ignore the scene in front of him.

Putting down the controller with a sigh, he brought his hand to the back of Tomas' head, forcing the Czech muscle stud down onto his hard 7.5", which was already shining from Tomas' tongue. "Fuck that feels good, man. And how's it going back there? How do I taste?" Adam asked me with a smirk, clearly well aware that I was eating his load out of Tomas' hairy hole.

Coming up for air, and admiring how Tomas' hole looked with the hairs slicked down to his skin with my spit, i practically moaned, "So fucking good, you have no idea" before diving back in.

Adam smirked. He might not have the biggest cock in the room, and he certainly couldn't match Tomas' muscled physique, but his dominant personality and powerful build made him the alpha in the room, and he knew it.

"So I guess you've been craving that big ass of his for a while, huh?" he asked me, and I was only able to grunt in reply as i continued making out with Tomas' hole, all the while hearing Tomas' gags and moans as he struggled to swallow more and more of Adam's solid, girthy 7.5".

"Must be killing you knowing that I got in there first, right? And I'm not even really into guys, but man, you weren't kidding when you said this stud has a great ass". As he finished talking, Adam pulled Tomas hard down on his cock, burying himself to the hilt in his throat, provoking gags of protect from Adam, who growled in response, loving feeling Tomas' nose in his thick bush.

"But man, look at that huge fucking dick between your legs, I kinda knew you were packing from the amount of guys you get chasing after you, but that thing is impressive". As he spoke, Adam craned his neck to see over Tomas' body, a look of approval on his face as he saw the hard 8 inches swinging between my legs.

"You want to feel what that hole wrecker can do, Tom?" Adam addressed Tomas, pulling his cock out of his throat with a wet pop. Adam smirked at the sight of the strings of saliva linking his cock to Tomas' mouth, and slapped the Czech stud's face with his wet cock while waiting for him to catch his breath.

Still gasping, Tomas stayed on his hands and knees, turning to see my throbbing 8", his eyes widening. "Fuck, until today I never had anything bigger than a tongue inside me, and then it was that big dick, and now you want to give me an even bigger one?" Tomas looked doubtful, but he found himself desperately wanting to please Adam, this handsome, assertive, powerful man he'd only met a couple of hours prior.

"Fuuuuck, ok, fine, fuck me, but please start slow, that thing looks so fucking thick". He wasn't wrong. With 8 inches of length and 6" of girth, my cock wouldn't be easy, especially for a guy who whose hole was virgin 2 hours earlier.

Taking control, Adam ordered, "Ok, let me get up. Tom, get on your back with your legs in the air". Reluctantly pulling my face from between Tomas' big, round, hairy cheeks, I stayed kneeling in front of the couch as Tomas got in position.

As he flipped over onto his back, I was struck by how unbelievably hot my former roommate was. Handsome with stubble, big, round pecs, hard abs, biceps that would tear the sleeves off a tshirt, and hairy, muscled legs, that he was now lifting, revealing an ass I'd cum countless times dreaming about.

"Now is your chance, big boy" Adam said with a smirk, playfully slapping me on the shoulder. I didn't need telling twice. Standing, i took Tomas' muscled legs in my hand, pulling him to the edge of the couch, lifting his ass as I positioned his legs over my shoulders. Looking down at his handsome face, his hair still messy from Adam's hands, and moving down to that hard, muscled body that looked like it belonged on a Greek statue, my 8 inches throbbed so hard a bead of precum formed instantly on the head.

I'd been dreaming of fucking this straight stud's ass for so long, and with my precum, his hole wet from my tongue and Adam's load still inside him, my knees trembled as i pushed the big head against his hole, applying just enough pressure for it to pop inside. Both of us gasped, and held perfectly still.

In this position, Tomas was practically folded in half with me on top of him, his wide eyes looking up at me with lust, twinged with a little pain. "Fuck, you're even bigger than he was" he half said, half moaned.

"Fuck yeah i am" I growled, sinking half of my cock into him, prompted loud moans from both of us.

Since getting up from the couch I'd lost track of what Adam was up to, feeling totally lost in the feeling of my former roommates hole squeezing down on my hard cock, but I should have known better than to think he'd just watch.

Coming from behind me I heard, "Damn, Tom isn't the only one around here with an ass to die for. All those squats and all that running has paid off for you, bro, wish the girls I knew had asses like this" Adam said, whistling in appreciation.

I began to rock my hips, pulling nearly all the way out of Tomas' hole before sliding back in, focusing on giving him a little bit more each time, letting him adjust to my size. "Ha, thanks" I replied distractedly, "I'm top, though, so you can look but don't touch".

A few seconds passed, with no sound but the deep, ragged breathing coming from me and Tomas, alongside his occasional whimpers and moans.

"Well you might be top, bro, but me and Tom here are straight, so I guess the rules don't apply this weekend".

I heard Adam answer, but I was so lost in the sensation of the tight, hairy hole squeezing me with every thrust, my 8" lubed by Adam's load from earlier, it didn't really register with my brain. Until I felt Adam's hands on my hips.

"Hey what are you..." I stopped mid way through my sentence, feeling the cold wetness of Adam's lubed cock, sliding between my cheeks, slipping up and down a little, before his head came to a stop right on my hole.

With Tomas' legs over my shoulders, his hands holding my thighs, and Adam's powerful body now pressed against my back, I could hardly move. As Adam pressed closer, I instinctively tried to move away from him, sinking more and more of my 8" into Tomas' hot, hairy bubble butt, until,my bush was pressed against his cheeks.

"Oh fuck, fuck, fuck! Man, fuck, you're so fucking deep, you're so..." Tomas' eyes rolled back into his head and his voice dissolved into a moan as i bottomed out, his hard 7" throbbing violently against his abs, spurting ropes of precum all the way up to his pecs, making me think he'd shot his load.

Adam's powerful rugby player thighs were against the back of my legs, his hands on my hips, his powerful dad bod now pressed firmly against my back. I felt his warm breath against my ear as he whispered, "Looks like Tom here is enjoying that huge cock of yours, pal, why don't you give him what he wants? Just pull out and back in again, bro, you know how to do it".

Too trapped to get away and to horny to resist, I gritted my teeth and started to slide my cock inch by inch out of Tomas' hairy, stretched, cum-filled hole, feeling the pressure against my own hole building with every movement. Until my hole gave way, and Adam's cock slide inside me, at least half of his hard 7.5" all at once.

I swore out loud, a moan followed by a low growl escaped Adam's throat. "That's it baby, show Tomas a good time".

Glancing over my shoulder at Adam's smirk, I looked back down at my god of a former roommate under me, and something in my mind snapped. Using every inch of my hard, thick 8" cock, i pounded Tomas hard, thinking of every secret glance i'd taken at his ass in locker rooms, every night I'd cum all over myself thinking about his hot body, i channeled all of that into every brutal thrust.

Before long i was bottoming out in Tomas with every thrust, and impaling myself on every inch of Adam every time I pulled out, his powerful body making sure there was no escape. With the hot hairy bubble butt of my dreams milking my cock, and my apparently straight friend's thick dick pounding my prostate, I was lost in ecstasy, the room filled with moans, grunts, gasps, and the sound of skin slapping on skin.

"Oh fuck, I can only fucking dream of pussy this tight" Adam growled behind me, holding my waist tighter and giving me 5 hard, deep, brutal thrusts, before burying himself to the hilt in my brutally fucked hole. I felt his cock throbbing inside me, and the unfamiliar feeling of his cum flooding my insides, Adam letting out a long growl of "fuuuuck" as he bred his second hole in the last 2 hours.

Feeling this handsome stud's cock throbbing inside me, I lost it, and my own 8" shot thick ropes deep inside Tomas, whose own cumshots came only seconds later, splattering all over the hard abs, pecs, and shoulders he'd spent years working on, knowing his fit body would be getting him plenty of girls.

Everyone is 18+ and fully consenting.

My mom had a dish towel over her shoulder and one hand flat on the counter. The conversation was over, and she was about to tell me to do something I didn't want to do. I knew the mannerisms subconsciously, and braced before I even realized it. 

"Two houses down," she said. "The grey one with the truck in the driveway."

"Yeah?"

"New neighbors. I like the mom," she said wryly, "We're gonna be friends. I told her you'd come over and say hi to her son. So go over and hang out or whatever."

I sighed as she continued doing whatever she was doing at the counter. "What am I going to do with him?"

"You'll figure it out." She wiped the counter in front of me even though I hadn't put anything on it. "You're about the same age. I'm sure he's fun. Go."

"Right now?" I said, exasperated already.

"Yes."

I shook my head and rolled my eyes, my angsty response to annoying things from mom.

I was the only male left in the house. My brother had finally moved out recently, and it was just me and her. So, when she volunteered someone to do something, it was always me now. And I wasn't a pill about it. I loved my mom.

"Can I at least text him first?"

"I don't have his number."

"Then how do I even know what to say."

"You say hi, I'm from down the street." She was already turning back to the sink. "His name is Clark."

····[]····

The grey one with the truck was two down and the storm door still had the sticker on the glass from the previous owners. I knocked, and a woman opened it a crack, and I said the whole thing about being from down the street, and she lit up like I'd delivered a package. She yelled up the stairs.

Clark came down and pushed the door the rest of the way open and stood inside the frame with the hall behind him half full of moving boxes, all of them labeled in marker.

He was taller than I was expecting. Not big, just long, and the t-shirt hung off him without touching much of anything on him. He had nerdy glasses, with the plastic frames that turn dark in the sun. His haircut was short on the sides, a couple years out of fashion at that point. He looked like he had just been chilling, gym shorts, dark green socks, no shoes.

"Hey," he said.

"Hey. I live a couple houses down." I pointed with my chin.

"Cool."

I stood on the porch with my hands in my pockets and worked out my exit strategy, feeling socially awkward enough already. I'd say my mom needed help with something, walk back, tell her he was nice, and never think about the grey house again.

"You want to come up?" he said.

I nodded out of polite instinct, cursing myself inside for coming over.

"Yeah, sure."

····[]····

His room was the front bedroom over the porch, one bed pushed under the window, a desk against the wall with a laptop closed on it, and a shelf of games that had apparently gotten unpacked as a priority before anything else.

I sat on the floor with my back against the side of the desk and my knees up. 

"You want some help unpacking?" I asked, hoping it would give us something to do.

"Nah, I'm already wiped. I'll do it later," he said as he dropped into the desk chair, swiveling it around to face me, so I was looking up at him from about hip height.

I scanned the shelf above his gaming consoles. He had two football games that were four years old, some strategy thing with a wizard on the box, and a bunch of stuff I had never played.

"You play any shooters?"

"Not really."

"Racing?"

"I have that one." He tapped the shelf without looking. "It's not great."

That's about where the conversation ran out of road. I asked what his old school was, he said it, I said I'd heard of it, and then neither of us said anything for long enough that I heard the refrigerator get plugged in and start up downstairs.

"You date any cute girls there?" I asked.

"One for a bit, but not really. There were some hotties though."

"I bet. Well I hope you do well at our school. Better than me at least."

"So you haven't...?"

"Not really."

Then his mom knocked twice and came in with a plate of stuff. I looked at the array of crackers, cheese cut into squares, grapes. I had to stop myself from saying something rude, about how that looked like a snack plate for eight-year-olds, but to be honest, I was hungry, and it was actually really nice. I smiled and grabbed a handful of the crackers. She set it on the desk between us and stood there with her hands together.

"Do you boys need anything? There's soda."

"We're good, Mom."

"I'm so glad you came down," she said to me.

"Thanks for having me."

She hovered another second and left the door open a few inches when she went. That plate meant I was there for another few minutes minimum. I didn't want to eat four crackers off a woman's snack plate and then say I had to go right after. I ate a grape and looked at the wizard box some more.

····[]····

"You want to see the racing one?" Clark said. "It's stupid but it's fine."

"Sure."

He swiveled back to the desk and opened the laptop, and the screen lit up with a video paused in fullscreen. The image was a guy, from the chest down, with hairy thighs, his shirt bunched up in his fist, holding his dick and swinging it side to side at the camera. It was some amateur porn thing, but the girl hadn't appeared yet. It was in some guy's bedroom, a hamper in the corner of the frame.

Clark slapped the lid down to about six inches open. The back of his neck reddened straight up to his ears.

I laughed. I had my elbows on my knees and I laughed hard enough that I had to put my hand over my mouth so his mom wouldn't come back up.

"Dude," I said. "Relax. Turns out we do have some common interests."

He didn't say anything. He had one hand still on the lid.

"I'm a porn freak," I said. "Genuinely. I have no limits. Weird shit, animated stuff, I've seen all of it. I don't even care that it's showing the guy that much. Just fast forward to when the girl shows up, and hope she's a freak." 

I stretched my legs out and crossed my ankles. "So who's in it. The girl. Tell me the girl, I bet I know her."

"There's no girl."

"There's always a girl. I know every porn star. I know the amateurs, too. I know the ones who started posting like a month ago."

He pushed the lid down another inch.

"Uhh," he said. "That was me."

····[]····

I sat there on the floor with a cracker in my hand.

"Wait, what? No. That was, like, a huge, manly dick."

"And?"

"That dude had muscles, and body hair."

"..."

He wasn't even arguing. He'd turned the chair halfway back toward me and he had one socked foot up on the frame under the seat, and he sat there with one eyebrow up, letting me talk myself out.

"Uhh," I said. "Ok."

He chuckled. Not defensively, not a bit. He laughed at me for not believing him, short and through his nose, and went back to eating a square of cheese off the plate.

I did not believe him, not even a little bit. A guy with those glasses and that haircut and a wizard box on his shelf does not have that much meat hanging between his legs. And the dude in the video, albeit I only got a glimpse and didn't see his face, looked way more mature than this dude.

But his amusement at my incredulity was what confused me. If he were lying, he would have pushed harder. He was content to just sit there and let me be wrong.

"So that was real?" I said.

He nodded.

"Prove it."

He shrugged with both shoulders. "I don't have any videos with my face in it."

I looked down at his shorts. I couldn't tell anything from the bulge I was looking at. He wasn't free-balling it. I narrowed my eyes, and stopped myself from saying the obvious way to prove it to me.

"At my old school this was basically a weekly thing," he said. "Me and my friends measured in one of their basements more than once. One time somebody filmed it. Now I'm prepping to be a content creator, for like a fan site or whatever."

"You're serious?"

"Why would that be a big deal?" He picked up a grape. "I don't really get why people are so scared of their nudes being online."

"Damn," I said, "And I thought I was the freak."

He chuckled. "You're just an amateur gooner."

"I guess I am."

"Nobody at my school does... that," I said. "As far as I know."

"Yeah, I figured."

Unprompted, he stood up out of the chair, faced me, and hooked both thumbs in the waistband of the gym shorts and pushed them down to the middle of his thighs, and his underwear went with them in one motion.

"You believe me now?"

It was indeed the thing I had seen on the screen. I just nodded, unable to take my eyes off it. 

It was soft, and it still hung down farther than I would have guessed from the quick glance of the video. It was thick and even all the way down, instead of tapering at all. It didn't sit against his skin. It just hung, slightly away from him. His balls hung low too, large and round, everything loose. His whole package was so far past what his nerdy glasses and his fancy socks had suggested, that I got up off the floor to look at it properly. I actually stood up so I could see it right.

"Ok," I said. "Ok, ok."

"Your turn."

It took me a second to register what he said. I snapped out of my daze and looked away from his cock to meet his gaze. He had raised a brow, a gentle challenge. 

I only hesitated another second before I shoved my shorts down and lifted my shirt to match his stance. And we stood there facing each other, a random dude I had just met, and we were close enough that I could have reached out and touched it.

"So I guess we're fast friends," I said.

"What?"

"Nothing." 

Regarding my dick, it's not bad, but next to his, it was nothing. It was like putting my forearm in front of a fence post.

"Mogged," I said.

"True," he said back.

And I was getting hard. Standing there in a stranger's bedroom, right over his mother's snack plate, from the pure competition of it, from being compared against. My dick filled up and started lifting on its own and there was nothing I could do about it. 

"Why are you hard?" he asked, after several seconds of just staring at each other's dicks.

"I don't know. It's just a reflex."

But he was thickening up too. I watched it happen, it got heavier and started to swing forward off him and it kept going.

"Yours is getting big," I said. "That thing is not real."

He wiggled it back and forth with his hips, making it slap against his thighs. 

He looked down at mine and stayed looking at it, no rush, and then he nodded once.

"It's a good one, though. Seriously. Thick at the base. Girls like that."

"Yeah," I said. "That's what they say."

He opened the laptop again and switched to a browser screen, porn already loaded. He hit play.

"How many guys have you compared with?" he said as he started stroking himself, looking at me rather than the screen.

"None."

"None?"

"None, obviously. None." I could hear how loud I was getting and I brought it down. "Never."

"Why not?"

I paused, not sure how to answer that. "Because it's gay?"

Despite my ambivalence, I reached for my hard dick and started stroking too. The porn helped my nerves. I had seen this video before. I knew this girl.

"My friends said that too." He reached down with his second hand and moved his balls off his thigh, and I watched him do it. "Right up until they had their shorts down."

We jerked next to each other for another minute, turned halfway toward each other, the laptop off to the side. My strokes got quicker, and so did his. Then it got sticky, and sloppy, precum smearing down my shaft so my hand made a wet noise on every pull. I watched the girl on the screen for a few seconds, then his dick, then the screen again. He kept looking at mine, and I kept looking at his.

"I want to see it cum," I said, suddenly, surprising myself.

I don't know where it came from. It arrived in my mouth before I even thought the words.

"Ok," he said. "Then you have to do it."

"What?"

He tipped his chin down to the thick meat in his hand. "You do it."

"I've never..."

"Don't be a pussy."

I sat down on the edge of the bed, swallowing through my suddenly dry throat. He came and stood in front of me, close, and leaned his weight back against the front edge of the desk with his palms behind him on the wood, shorts still at his thighs, and I took him in my hand and put my other on his hip to keep us steady.

He was hot in my hand, and heavy, and I couldn't close my fingers around him all the way, which is a thing I had never in my life had to think about. I started stroking, unsure of the rhythm, just generally knowing where is the good part of a dick to touch. I went slowly at first because I was working out the angle backwards, doing it toward myself instead of away, and then I got it and stroked him properly.

He started thrusting his hips gently almost immediately. "Focus more on the head."

I followed his direction, squeezing harder at the tip, and his stomach started reacting. He had some dense abs, and I was looking straight ahead as the muscles there pulled tight and stayed tight, forming little mounds. And his breathing changed, short and through his teeth. He didn't say anything the whole time. His hips pushed forward into my fist and the desk creaked behind him when he leaned harder on his hands.

"Yeah," he said. "Like that, keep going."

"Okay."

I kept stroking. I twisted a little at the top because that's what I like and his whole body jerked, so I did it again.

"Okay," he said, and I knew he was about to cum. 

He twisted out of my grip and faced his desk. I stood up in an instant and reached around him from behind, ignoring that my dick was pressing against his bare ass and hip as I grabbed his dick back out of his hands, stroking him rapidly along the whole length, squeezing tightly, feeling his tall body tense against me. He watched my hand moving in a blur, and I felt the intense pulse of his meat as his load shot out and hit the bare wood next to the laptop, three long white streaks, and then a couple more that just ran over my knuckles, and it built up into a pile sitting there on the desk, whitish clear.

I stared at the pile with my hand still on him, milking out his last drops, even though they were getting on my fingers.

He stayed braced against the desk and tipped his head back, closing his eyes, his chest heaving. I realized that I was still pressed up against him, and slowly pulled away as I let go of him. His dick hit the table with an audible thud, splashing some cum to the sides.

"That was better than my friends ever did it," he said.

"Bro."

"No, seriously." He said with an exhale after getting some air. "Did you see what you wanted to see?"

"I mean, no homo, but that was... intense."

He laughed at me. Still breathing hard, still not opening his eyes, he laughed right at me with his hand loosely holding himself, in a post-orgasm daze that I recognized from myself.

I sat back on the edge of his bed with my shorts around my thighs and my hand wet, and sticky.

"Dare you to lick it," he said.

My face scrunched. "No."

"Do it," he said, smiling at me, his intimidating dong facing me now, right at eye level again, somehow even more intimidating in its red, post-ejaculation state.

He pushed off the wood and took a step back to give me room, and he stood there with his hand moving on himself, slowly, watching.

I bent forward off the edge of the bed, still bare-assed and exposed. I put both hands flat on the desk on either side of the pile and got my face down over it, close enough to smell it, and I stopped there for a second with the wood cold under my palms. The familiar scent of cum, just slightly different. I thought about when I tried my own one time, and hated it, and never did it again. But he had been weirdly convincing, and I couldn't think of a reason not to do it at this point, in the name of trying new things, with the new kid.

So I did it. I stuck my tongue out and flattened it on the desk, dragged it through the cum. I tasted nothing at first, and then my tongue was met with the strange, organic sense of salt and bleach and the varnish of the desk underneath it, and I got a big glob of it directly onto my tongue, retracting my tongue to swallow it immediately.

"Holy shit," he said, quietly, above me. "I didn't think you'd actually do it."

I sat up and wiped my mouth on the back of my wrist and he was still standing there stroking himself, staying hard, or mostly hard, looking down at me like he was impressed.

"Now you," he said.

"Now me what?"

"Jerk off." He nodded at the desk. 

He leaned past me and swiped what was left of the pile of cum off the wood with two fingers, the thin part that had spread out, and I figured he was going to hand it to me. He didn't. He reached down and closed his wet hand around my dick.

"Wait," I said as the intensity of the first person to ever touch my dick struck me like lightning.

He looked up at my face, and I looked back at him, and whatever my eyes were doing, it wasn't telling him to stop. He didn't stop.

He dropped into the desk chair, sideways, and rolled in toward me, still holding on. I stood at the desk with my shorts still at my thighs, facing the wood, his knee against my leg, his arm reaching across into my lap. 

His mother was still somewhere downstairs, and her cheese plate was about nine inches from my bare ass.

His cum was still warm when he touched me. I have jerked off with everything. Lotion, conditioner, even the actual stuff you buy just for jerking off. This was slicker than any of it and it was his, and it had been in his body, and his fingers were long enough to close all the way around me with room to spare, and I felt all of that on the first stroke and nearly finished right there.

"Look at that," he said.

I didn't answer. I couldn't even look down at it. He found a rhythm faster than I would have found it myself, twisting at the top the same way I had done to him, copying me, and my knees kept trying to lock. He shifted in the chair and his knee pressed harder against my thigh and stayed there, and I could feel him breathing through his mouth onto my hip while his forearm flexed with every pull.

"You're gonna do it on the same spot," he said. "Right where mine was."

That did it. I braced both hands on the desk and pushed my hips into his fist. For the first time in my life, I made an uncontrollable vocal sound from an orgasm as I finished onto the wood, right onto the wet patch where his had been, and it kept coming, my whole stomach tensing up with it and my head down between my shoulders and this stupid noise coming out of me that I heard from somewhere outside my own body, a gentle screech that sounded like an alien. He kept stroking me the whole time, slower, squeezing out the last of it onto his own mess. I stayed hunched over his desk, breathing hard.

Then his Mom's voice rang from downstairs. I didn't even register what she had said, but the post-nut clarity seemed to hit us both in the same second.

I got my shorts up. He got his up too. He grabbed a t-shirt off the floor and wiped the desk down in three quick passes, folded it in on itself, and threw it in the hamper by the closet. I shoved the laptop over to the far corner and put the snack plate back in the middle of the desk where his mom had set it.

The shirt had barely hit the hamper when the door pushed open and she came in with a second plate, yet more food for us.

"I made the good kind," she said.

"Thanks, Mom," Clark said with impressive nonchalance, like he barely noticed her enter the room.

"There's soda if you boys want."

"We're good."

I was standing at the shelf reading the back of the wizard box repeatedly, not ingesting a single word of it. She looked at both of us and just saw two dudes chillin, and she went back out and pulled the door shut.

····[]····

At the front door he pushed the storm door open for me with his forearm.

"Come over again," he said. Same voice as the racing game, same voice as the basement.

"I'll see you around," I said, not sure how I was going to feel about this event after I'd slept on it.

I walked the two houses in the dark and my mom said something from the couch about how nice his mom was, and I said mhm and went straight up to my room. My mouth still had the taste in it. I brushed my teeth for a long time, and I could still sense it. Maybe it was in my head.

I laid on my bed with the phone on my chest and it buzzed against my sternum. A number I didn't have. I never gave him my number. His mom got it from my mom I guess.

Clark: Some friends from my old school are staying over this weekend

Clark: You should come by

Me: How many friends

Clark: Three

I looked at that for a long time with the phone glowing up at the ceiling.

Me: What time

Everyone in the story is in early thirties.

Shortly, gf broke up with me, I moved out, Luke came with open arms to move in with him. My gf and I used to be anything but vanilla, sometimes I'd tie her up to bed with her head hanging and just fuck her face, cum all over it, and leave her like that until I got horny and used her again. She used to peg me to get back at me...

Aaaaanyhow.

I (Dylan) am quite lean, tall, brown haired, short beard, you can see nicely defined abs and shoulders on me. Luke is more bulky, taller, blonde, blue eyes. He looks like he doesn't miss a gym day nor a chance to eat a donut.

Luke has been out of the closet for years now and two of us can talk about pretty much anything. He sometimes brings a boy over, and the sounds I hear are insane from the room, what does he do to them? Anyhow, I am quite straight, I thought, so, no use wondering too much.

Luke and I went out together multiple times, on blind dates, on different events, even board games, padel, you name it Each fucking time he found a gay guy, destroyed him, and I found noone.

Finally, it has been weeks since I last came. I decided that it is better to not masturbate since it would dull the need, make me less interested in pursuing it, I don't know, I'm not smart alright. And thus, a conversation started that would change anything. We were playing Smash on tv and I was winning quite hardly and I blurted out.

"If I win in Smash you let me smash?"

He laughed out loud. Paused the game.

"What the fuck?"

"Ok, badly worded joke, but for real, I am interested in experimenting a bit, haven't came in a long time." (as I said, we talked about everything)

"Ok, how about this, whoever wins, gets to own the other for a week?"

I had 3 lives, he had 1, this was in the bag, huh, I guess Luke really wanted to be my slut?

"... Hmmmm, sure, but everything goes, Luke, not only do you suck my dick, you also help me find girls if I win"

"Hahaha, alright then, we got a deal?"

"Yes, lets go!"

He unpaused. And something switch, the weeks of waiting to cum and now being finally at the doors of it, it flipped something in my head, I became desperate, I started shaking, pressing all the wrong buttons. Meanwhile, Luke looked more focused than ever, landing every hit as it was nothing, blocking. He knocked me off the stage, I bent over to also focus on the game, respawnes with two remaining lives when he SMACK. He spanked my ass and whispered.

"Focus, buddy, or your ass is mine."

Firstly, I noticed I was rock hard, secondly, that spank was point of no return. He proceeded to dominate me for two more lives. I lost, fair and square. Barely did any % since the bet was made.

He got up, smiling.

"You sure? You don't wanna back out? You can do all chores for a month if you want"

"Nono, I am not a bitch, bet stands."

"Oh, maybe you aren't, but you will be." My dick twitched. He walked up, took off his sweatpants and revealed his dick, fuck he was huge, both longer and thicker than me.

"We don't have all day, suck it."

I grabbed it at the base, my fingers barely met at the other side when grasping that thing. I put the head in my mouth and it was difficult to do anything. But I practised on strapons about this size before with my gf so I wasn't completely new to it. Also felt nicer than sucking a fake one. I kept giving my best, even deepthroating it a bit which he didn't ask for. He was very shocked about it.

"Huh, Dylan, maybe you are not a bitch but you are most definitely a slut. Let me help you out."

As I was about to deepthroat him, he grabbed my head and pulled me all the way to the base, he held me there for a bit, my eyes getting teary, he pulled out, I gasped. And he ran out of the room. He came back quickly with a bottle of lube and a condom.

"Put this on, now" Oh shit, he's a bottom? I'm going to fuck him? That's unexpected. I took off my pants, revealing my rock hard cock and I pulled on the condom and looked at him with a 'what now?' look. And that is when everything got fully turned on its head.

He grabbed me, and fuck, was he strong, and flipped me on my stomach, grabbed my hips and pulled them in the air. I could feel the lube being poured on my asshole. And then I felt his dick entering me, slowly at first. Bit by bit, so I get used to it. It was sending electrical shocks through my body. And when he reached the base I heard him laugh.

"Fuck you took it quickly, we are going to have fun this week."

He started rocking and fucking me quite hard. I was absolutely losing my mind. I was a moany, sweaty, mess on the couch. Each time I would get fully into it and think I am getting closer to cumming, he would smack my ass and the shock would bring me back to reality. There I was, in the middle of the living room, being absolutely destroyed by my roommate, having probably the best sex of my life. I could feel him climbing on the couch behind me, he pushed my ass a bit forwards and then something unexpected happened.

He used my face as a base with his foot. I, quite a self respecting, seemingly straight man, was now being used in my ass whilst having my face stepped on by my gay roommate and long time friend. And I was loving every second of it.

Just the image of what I have become has pushed me over the edge, I started cumming, and I started cumming hard into the condom. Without him even touching my dick. It was the single hardest orgasm of my life and he kept fucking it out of me. He was spanking my ass and telling me through grunts.

"Now. You. Cum. Only. With. My. Dick. Inside."

Afterwards, he pulled out, stepped off my face, and I heard a phone camera click sound. He moved closer to my face, he was jerking his dick quite hard.

"Sit up straight, open your mouth, now Dylan, hurry"

I did as he said, he pushed his dick in my mouth and started coating my tongue, one per one rope.

"Hold it in your mouth, I want to see it all together, alright?"

All together? He finished cumming, grabbed the condom off my now soft dick and put it in the air over my face as well, ah, I see. He poured my own cum in my mouth as well, my mouth was absolutely filled with cum.

"Open up." I did, he took a picture. "Swallow now." I did.

He sat next to me, grabbed me with one arm and kissed me on the cheek.

"Two of us are going to have so much fun this week."

And I can't wait for it.

Check out my previous story in this sub "My Czech buddy's hairy bubble butt" for background.

"I'm telling you man, I know you don't want to hear it, but it's the most perfect ass in the world, and I'm barely exaggerating".

Adam pulled the kind of face you'd expect a straight guy to when you've just told them you ate another dude's ass.

"Well thanks for sharing, bro. I never even met Tomas and now when he walks in here all I'm going to be able to think of is you two fooling around".

I laughed and thanked Adam for hanging out at my place today while I was at work to let Tomas in when he arrived. The two of us didn't live close anymore, because he was back in Czechia and I was living in Amsterdam, so I was stoked to having him come over.

Despite being a little cranky at times, Adam was a great guy. On the tall side of average, perfectly styled brown hair, a scruffy beard, and (even though he hated hearing it from his bi friend) a face that was fucking handsome.

He wasn't overly muscular but had a strong build with a hairy chest, and probably the thickest legs I've ever seen. I'm talking about thighs and quads that he struggles to fit into jeans. I guess that's what happens when you grow up playing American football and cycle a lot for fun.

So while Adam is waiting at my place to let Tomas in, I'm killing time at work, doing the bare minimum until it's time for me go home and see my buddy. And yeah, I was definitely hoping to get another turn with my tongue in that ass, or maybe more.

15.00 rolls around, and it's a quiet day at the office, and my boss knows I'm itching to get out of there.

"Ok you can stop staring at the clock, just get out of here, you can make up the time next week".

Finally!

I hop on my bike for the 10 minute ride home, and before I know it I turn the keys in my front door, push it open...and freeze on the spot.

There directly in front of me, I see Adam's bare back, with a pair of toned, tanned and hairy legs thrown over his shoulders. I see his ass, his powerful legs, and between them I see a fat, long, hairy cock slamming into an overly stretched hole. I'd know that big hairy bubble butt anywhere, and my 8" jumped to attention in my shorts before I even have time to process what's in front of me.

Hearing me come in, Adam barely glances back over his shoulder, says "You were right about this ass, holy fuck" and doesn't even miss a beat. Those strong, powerful legs driving his big cock hard into the ass beneath him.

As i get closer i peer around Adam's broad back to see Tomas' toned, muscular upper body, his brown hair messier than I've ever seen it, and his face contorted with a mixture of pain and ecstasy. Seeing me, Tomas tries to talk, but all he can manage is a breathless "fuck....fuck....fuck" in time to Adam's powerful thrusts, literally fucking the air out of his lungs.

As i said in my last story, Tomas is a fit guy with muscles that look like they belong on a statue of a Greek god, but with his legs lifted, he was totally pinned under Adam's dad bod, having his ass abused by Adam's big cock.

Standing over Tomas i see his 7" cock is as hard as a rock in his hand, stroking it fast as Adam's powerful legs and core pound him so hard that I almost worry about the couch giving way under them.

"So fucking tight, feels so fucking good" Adam grunts, his big, heavy hairy balls slapping Tomas' furry bubble butt with every thrust. "Not going to last long" he panted, and if anything began to fuck even harder.

I fished my 8" out of my shorts and shoved it roughly into Tomas' gaping mouth, knowing that I wouldn't be lasting long either. Wide eyed, Tomas began to suck me as Adam's breathing got ragged, his thrusts more erratic, before with one last brutal thrust he buried himself up to the hilt in Tomas' hairy bubble butt, and groaned as rope after rope spurted out of him, deep inside my supposedly straight former roommate.

No sooner had he felt Adam's load flooding his insides than Tomas' own cock started to spray, shooting cum all over his big round pecs, hard abs, and even up onto his chin. Seeing this and Adam hauling his girthy 7.5" out of Tomas' ass, my own 8 incher exploded. First into the back of Tomas' throat, causing him to gag and pull away, allowing 4 more thick ropes to splatter his face and hair.

The three of us stood there panting hard, our cocks still hard, all a little stunned by what had just happened.

Catching his breath and coming down from his climax, Adam was the first to speak- "I'm staying here this weekend, and none of this leaves this apartment". Looking down at Adam's still throbbing, cum-covered 7. 5", Tomas' fit body splattered with cum and his hole gaping, I knew I wouldn't be sleeping that night.

Okay, so. That was last night and my ass is literally still sore as I'm writing this.
Quick backstory: i’m a twink, but like, like the extra twinky kind. I’ve always been curious about the gay bars in town but you know, classes and like, crippling social anxiety. So i’ve never went until last night when my roommate(bless her heart)basically threw me in my tightest skirt and was like “go get fucked up you little coward.” anyway, the bar itself was kinda loud, really dark and like, sweaty and cheap cologne. I ordered this hot pink neon drink that tasted like melted candies, and then literally just tried to stand there in a corner not look like i was lost. And then he walked in. He was like six foot fucking six and was built like a truck literally like biceps bigger than my entire torso, and then his jeans bulged in like a frankly obscene kind of way. So obviously i gagged on my neon drink. He caught my eye(whoops)and gave me this huge smile. Damn. So he slid up next to me like “you look… out of place.” turns out he was a regular, some finance dork or something that works out a million hours a day, but my terrified giggle had apparently convinced him i was adorable(his words, not mine). Anyway he bought me another drink and his fingers grazed mine as he handed it to me and holy shit, i fucking shivered. His hand landed in my thigh not even five minutes later, and after some more… conversation(and me making literally every stupid and uncomfortable nervous sound known to man)we somehow ended up back at his place(to “talk,” sure)and oh my god, the apartment was ridiculously nice “i have a framed photo of my abs on the mantle piece “ kind of nice. We sat on the couch for about five minutes before his hand was under my skirt. “you’re dripping,” i was told and I fucking whimpered so hard that one minute I was like trying and failing to play it cool and the next i was literally kneeling with his gigantic cock in my mouth(it was fucking huge, thick, veiny, everything I like), and i gagged so hard i thought i was going to be sick, my eyes stinging and tears forming, but he was just groaning(thankfully)and thrusting deeper “such a good boy” and holy fuck, i was sold. Anyhoo main event: he flipped me over and peeled my panties off(rip my twenty dollar undies i will mourn you) and i was NOT prepared but the stretch, jesus, goddamn,but it was also just so good when he found that spot, and like suddenly i was seeing colors and fucking god him fucking me stupid and calling mepretty andfilthy andmine until i came without even finishing the sex. I woke up at noon todaywith a limp,hickey the size of a dinner plate and a “you free Friday?” and the answer is yes

🔞 All characters are of legal age

The haunted house spit us out into the parking lot at 11:40. Fake blood on Locke’s forearm. A plastic chain still hanging off my wrist from the last scare actor. The fair lights were dying one section at a time. Cotton candy machines off. The zipper ride still spinning empty for nobody.
Locke walked like he owned the gravel. 2Pac hoodie jacket unzipped over a bare chest, Adidas shorts, Yeezy sneakers. Faded cut sharp. Beard lined up. Dark eyes already on the highway in his head. Twenty-nine and moving like the night was a quarter-mile.

The fair had been his idea. He saw the billboard on the way back from the body shop and said we were going, no discussion. I paid for nothing. He bought the beers, the tickets, the cotton candy, the fried stuff that sat in my stomach the whole walk through the barns. Every time a scare actor jumped out he didn’t flinch. He laughed. He put a hand on the back of my neck and steered me through the dark like I was still twelve and this was a corn maze.

His boys had texted the group chat the whole night. Photos of some girl at a bar. A clip of a dunk from earlier. Locke answered one-handed while we stood in line for the zipper, thumb moving, grin sharp.

“They asking where I’m at,” he said. “I told ‘em I’m with my little brother. They know what that means. Hands off.”

He liked saying it. Liked the way it made me look at the ground. The mascot thing wasn’t a joke to him. It was a rule. I was the gay kid he could show and protect and never have to explain. Glass. Until the car. Until the highway.

On the zipper he sat across from me, hoodie open, tattoos jumping every time the cage flipped. He whooped at the top. I watched the way his shorts rode up his thighs and hated myself for it in a circle of cheap lights.
When we got off he threw an arm around my shoulders and left it there all the way to the parking lot. Heavy. Warm. The 2Pac hoodie smelled like the blunt and the metal of the ride.

“Get in, Payne.”

I got in. Twenty-two. Gay. His little brother. The mascot he showed his boys at the park on Sundays.

This my baby brother. Don’t even look at him wrong.

He walked on the outside of the sidewalk. He paid for the beers at the fair without asking. He treated me like glass until he didn’t.
The black matte Defender woke up like an animal. Lifted. Tinted. Exhaust that made the next row of cars look at us. Inside it smelled like the blunt he’d smoked behind the funnel-cake stand, sweat from walking the fair in August heat, and the oil he never quite washed off his hands from the shop. He dropped his phone in the cup holder, queued an old Migos album, and turned it up until the doors shook.

We sat in the lot for a minute while he rolled another one. Not talking. Just the tick of the engine and some trap song. He lit it, cracked the window, and pulled out toward the interstate like the road had said his name.
For the first ten minutes he drove normal. Which for Locke still meant eighty in a sixty-five. One wrist on the wheel. The other on the shifter. Hoodie open. Tattoos moving when he changed lanes.

“You see that girl in the coffin room?” he said. “The one with the fishnets. I would’ve hit that in the parking lot if you weren’t standing there looking like somebody’s little brother.”

“I am somebody’s little brother.”

“That’s what I said.” He grinned without looking at me. “You have fun or you spend the whole time watching me?”

I spent the whole time watching him. I didn’t say that.

“It was fun.” I was more blasé, he’s the excited one.

“You good?” he asked.

“I’m good.”

“You look like you seen a ghost. It was fake blood, Payne. Relax.”

It wasn’t the blood.

“You been quiet all night.”

“I’m quiet.”

“Nah. Different quiet.” Dense smoke crawled across the cab. “You thinking about some dude? Don’t lie. I can tell when you got that look.”

“I’m not thinking about some dude.”

“Aight.” He didn’t believe me. He looked straight while driving fast. Hands gripping the beast that’s his car.

I watched his hands. I always watched his hands. Veiny and strong. They can punch a guy out.

He passed me the blunt. I took a small hit and coughed. He laughed and took it back.

“Biggest fantasy I got,” he said, casual, like he was talking about a new exhaust, “some girl sucking me off while I’m doing ninety on the interstate. Head down. I don’t even gotta look. Just drive. Fast and Furious shit but with a real mouth on it.”

He glanced over. Dark eyes. A little red from the weed.

“What’s yours, little bro? Don’t say some gay shit like getting married.”

I should’ve lied. The beers from the fair were still warm in my chest. The blunt made my mouth honest.

“Sucking you. And your basketball crew.”

Locke barked a laugh so hard the Defender drifted.

“Yo. You wild. You playin’.”

I wasn’t. My hand was already on his thigh. Adidas shorts. Warm skin, strong legs, my brother didn’t skip legs day. Muscle jumping under my palm. I slid higher, slow, giving him time to knock it off.

“Payne.” His voice dropped. Not loud. Worse. “Don’t touch my dick. You’re my brother.”

I didn’t take the hand away. I massaged the inside of his thigh, thumb tracing the hem of the shorts. The car smelled louder now that I was leaning in. Skunk. Sweat. Him. My brother Locke.
He lasted maybe thirty seconds.

“Aight. Touch it. See if it even gets hard. This is stupid.”

I palmed him through the shorts. He was already filling. Heavy. The shape of it curved down against his left thigh, thick enough my hand didn’t cover it. When I squeezed, he hissed and the truck kissed the rumble strip before he yanked it back.

“Fuck.”

It got hard fast. A downward curve made a fat, ugly outline in the black fabric. Head already shoving at the hem. Locke stared at the road. Jaw tight. The faded line of his cut sharp in the dash light.

“You gonna suck it while I drive or you just gonna hold it like a bitch?”

“I’ll suck it.”

He nodded once. Like we were calling a play.

“I got you. I got your back. Anything happens, I handle it. You just do what you said. You hear me?”

“I hear you.”

My heart was in my mouth. From the opportunity to suck my big bro. From the speed waiting in his foot. From the way his whole face changed when he talked about going fast.

He hit the hazards and yanked the Defender onto the shoulder so hard the gravel sprayed the undercarriage. The music died mid-bar. For a second the only sound was the tick of the engine and the cars ripping past us at eighty.
Locke sat there with both hands on the wheel. Jaw locked. Staring at the dark like it had called him a name.

“This is fucked,” he said.

Not to me. To the windshield.

“This is actually fucked. You’re my little brother. I raised you when Dad was working doubles. I walked you into school. And you got your hand on my dick on the interstate like that’s normal.”

He laughed once. Ugly. No humor in it.

“I should put you out on this shoulder and make you walk home. That’s what I should do.”

He didn’t move.
The 2Pac hoodie jacket was still on. Unzipped. His chest going up and down too fast for a man who wasn’t scared of anything. I could see the line of him in the shorts, hard, shameless, curved down against his thigh. He looked at it like it had betrayed him.

“You did this,” he said. Quiet. Mean. “You put your hand there. You said that shit about me and my boys. You sat in my truck all night looking at me like that and now I’m hard on the side of a highway thinking about my brother’s mouth. You understand how twisted that is?”

“I know.”

“Don’t I know me.” His hand left the wheel and pointed at my face without touching it. “You don’t get to be calm about this. I’m the one who has to look at Mom tomorrow. I’m the one who has to ball with my boys knowing I let you—”

He stopped. Dragged a hand down his mouth. Looked at the bulge again like he hated it.
Then he ripped the hoodie off and threw it in the back.
Bare chest. Ink. Sweat from the fair still on him. He looked bigger in the dark. Pissed. Hard. The two things fighting in the same body.

“I almost said no,” he said, staring at me. “I almost drove off and left this whole conversation in the lot. You know why I didn’t?”

I shook my head.

“Because I’m still hard. That’s why. Because you touched it and it got worse instead of going away. Because the second you said you’d suck it my foot got heavier. That’s the part that’s making me angry. Not you. Me. For not shutting this down when I had the chance.”

He shoved the shorts and the boxers down enough in one angry motion, like if he did it slow he might stop. His cock sprang out, long, thick, veined, curving down toward the seat like it had its own gravity. The head was half-covered until he was all the way hard. It looked mean. It looked built to sit in a mouth at this angle without anyone having to crane their neck.
He clipped the seatbelt back on. Left the shorts around his thighs.

“Hands on my chest if you want. Don’t block the wheel. Don’t hit the shifter. You ready or not?”

I put both hands on his pecs. Warm. Solid. Heart hammering under the tattoos.

“Can I go?”

Not sweet. Checking.

“Go.”

He turned the Migos album back up until my teeth buzzed and pulled into the lane like the highway had been holding a spot for him.
I unclipped and dropped my head into his lap.
The first taste was sweat and skin and the weed on his fingers when he pushed me down. I took the head and the curve did exactly what I thought it would — fed itself down my throat with almost no fight. I didn’t have to work the angle. He was built for this. For a mouth in a moving truck. I swallowed around him and Locke made a sound I had never heard in twenty-two years of being his brother.

“Fuck yeah. That’s it. Take that shit.”

He dumped a gear and the Defender surged. My stomach dropped. The force shoved my face into him, nose in his crotch, cock buried. I gagged and stayed. He grabbed my hair and held me there while he passed a car like it was parked.

“You feel that? That’s a hundred. You still sucking? Don’t you tap out on me now, Payne. You wanted this.”

I wanted it. The speed made everything bigger. The bass. His breathing. The wet noise in my throat. Cold AC on the back of my neck. His thighs locked under my hands. I came up for air and he shoved me back down, using my mouth the way he’d described some girl doing it. No looking. Just driving. Just taking.

“That’s a real one. That’s a G move. White boy in a black truck with his little brother’s throat on his dick at midnight. You hear this? This the shit. I ain’t slowing down. Don’t you slow down neither.”

On the highway with the volume at twenty he wasn’t the guy who walked on the outside of the sidewalk. He was the one his boys called when a ride and a problem needed handling. Champion. Mean. Laughing at the speedometer. A true G in his own head and, for the next eight miles, in mine too.

I made it sloppy on purpose. Spit ran down his balls onto the shorts. Every pass leaned the truck and pushed him deeper. I choked. He laughed, short and crazy, and flexed his hand in my hair.

“Look at you. Baby brother out here chewing dick like you been waiting your whole life. You have. Don’t lie. I seen how you look at me when I come in from ball. Shirt off. Sweating. I seen it. I just try my best to ignore it, forget it.”

He wasn’t wrong.
Headlights filled the back window. Locke checked the mirror, didn’t flinch, dropped a gear, and left them for dead. The surge drove me down again. Eyes watering. Him getting wetter, saltier, on my tongue. Weed in my nose. His chest pumping under my left hand.

“I’ma use your throat like a toy. That’s what you asked for. That’s what you get. Friends too, you said. You remember that? My boys. You still saying that with my dick in your mouth?”

I couldn’t talk. I tapped his thigh once. Yes.

“Nasty fag. That’s nasty. I love that shit. Keep sucking. We got empty road. Don’t waste it.”

He fucked my face on the dashed lines. Short punches in the left lane. Longer strokes when it opened up. I drooled on him. Jaw burning. I kept going. The curve made it filthy. Every time I came up, the head dragged my tongue and slapped back in.

A semi blew past the other way and the whole truck shook. Locke whooped like he’d scored and shoved me down to the root.

“You better not throw up in my truck. I just detailed this bitch.”

I didn’t. I swallowed around him and he groaned from the chest.
Empty highway. Late. Just us and the matte black eating miles. His voice went hoarse.

“I’m close. You swallow. All of it. I ain’t pulling over so you can spit on the shoulder like a bitch. You eat it like a good faggot. You hear me?”

“Walk it talk it” playing loud. He held my head down. Engine screaming. Flying. I couldn’t breathe and I didn’t want to. His hips lifted against the belt and he came with his head tipped back, yelling into the Migos like the song was about him.

“Fuck yeah — fuck yeah — take it —”

Hot. Thick. A lot. Pulsing straight down my throat while the truck stayed in a straight line at a speed that would’ve buried anybody else in a ditch. I swallowed until he was twitching and swearing and his hand in my hair went from mean to something almost proud.

He let me up.
I stayed down one more second, breathing against his thigh, the taste of him all the way back. His chest was heaving. Sweat at the edge of the fade. Wrecked. Proud.
He didn’t talk until the next exit. Then he tucked himself into the shorts with one hand, kept the other on the wheel, and turned the music down two clicks. Only two.

“Sit up. Belt on. I don’t want a ticket.”

I sat up. Wiped my mouth on my wrist. Clipped in.
We didn’t talk through town. Streetlights slid over the wrap. His profile looked carved. One wrist on the wheel. The 2Pac hoodie in a heap behind the seats. My mouth still full of him. My stomach still doing the highway.
The Defender rolled into the driveway. Engine died. House dark. Mom’s car parked. The garage light kicked on and made the ink on his chest look wet.
Locke sat there with both hands on the wheel, staring at the brick like it might say something back.

“That was the best ride of my life,” he said. Quiet. No performance. “You hear me? Best ride I ever had.”

I remembered a song from Tinashe that I loved “Ride of your life”. I gave him the ride of his life. That’s absolutely insane. I felt powerful.

He looked over. Dark eyes. Still a little crazy from the speed.

“You tell nobody. Not the boys. Not nobody. I got your back. You got mine. That’s the deal.”

“That’s the deal. But you should ask your crew…”

“Don’t be greedy, lil bro. Not sure yet if you can handle the big dogs. Let’s see, let’s see.”

He reached over and squeezed the back of my neck once, hard, the same way he did after a game when I’d done something right by accident. Then he got out shirtless with the hoodie in his fist and the shorts still sitting low.

I sat in the passenger seat until the bass stopped living in my ribs.
Then I followed him inside, the taste of my brother still in my throat, the interstate still in my stomach, already knowing the next time he said get in I was getting in — and that someday, soon I hope, he was going to remember what I said about his friends.

🔞Everyone is 18+

The first thing I remember is the smell. That’s what sticks with you, I think, when you’re trying to pinpoint the exact moment your life veered off its comfortable, paved path and into something wild and overgrown. It was the smell of chlorine, hot cedar, and something else—something clean and sharp, like expensive aftershave cut with pure, masculine sweat. It was the smell of the country club sauna, and it was the smell of him. Darell.

My dad, Simon, had been talking about Darell for years. “My golf buddy,” he’d say, clapping a hand on my shoulder. “Single-digit handicap. Built like a damn linebacker, but with the swing of a poet.” He’d always say it with a kind of wistful pride, the way men do about other men they admire—a mix of envy and aspiration. I’d seen him in passing, a broad-shouldered silhouette in the pro shop or laughing on the veranda with a gin and tonic in his hand. He was one of those men who seemed to occupy more space than was physically allotted to him, not just in a room, but in the air itself. His presence had weight.

The “private lessons” were my father’s idea. A bribe, or maybe an investment. I’d just turned twenty-one, floundering through my final year of a business degree I had zero passion for, spending more time at the club’s pool than in the library. Simon was a strategist. He saw my lack of direction not as a crisis, but as a piece to be moved on his board. “You need an edge, Matt,” he’d said over dinner, sawing into his steak. “Networking happens on the green, not on LinkedIn. You’re a decent golfer, but you’re inconsistent. Darell’s agreed to tune you up. Consider it an internship in social capital.”

I’d agreed because it was easier than arguing. Because the idea of spending hours with my father’s formidable friend sent a confusing, electric jolt through my gut—a jolt I was adept at ignoring.

So, that’s how I found myself pushing open the heavy oak door to the clubhouse’s private sauna suite at seven on a Tuesday evening, the rest of the building quiet, the only sounds the distant hum of pool filters and the thwock of my own nervous heartbeat in my ears.

The heat hit me first, a solid, woolly wall of it that stole my breath and instantly beaded sweat at my temples. Then, the light—a soft, hellish glow from the ceramic heater stones, illuminating swirling motes of steam and the rich, red grain of the cedar walls.

And then, him.

Darell was already there, sitting on the highest bench, a white towel draped loosely around his hips. His body was a lesson in anatomy carved from oak and corded with thick, ropy muscle. He wasn’t lean; he was dense. A powerful chest, dusted with dark hair that trailed down a ridged abdomen and disappeared beneath the towel. Shoulders so broad they seemed to curve with the walls of the small room. His arms were resting on his knees, biceps swelling even in repose, veins standing in stark relief under skin glistening with a fine sheen of sweat.

He turned his head, and his eyes found me. They were a startling, pale blue, like chips of winter sky, and they didn’t just look—they assessed, they took in every detail of my own towel-clad body, my hesitant stance in the doorway. A slow, easy smile spread across his face, carving lines into his stubbled cheeks.

“Matt,” he said, and his voice was a low rumble, deeper than I remembered, vibrating through the humid air and settling right in the base of my spine. “Don’t just stand there letting the cold in. Shut the door. The heat’s a gift. You have to commit to it.”

I obeyed, the door clicking shut with a finality that echoed in the small space. The silence that followed was profound, broken only by the hiss of steam as Darell ladled water over the rocks. A fresh, scorching wave bloomed, carrying that scent—his scent—directly into my lungs. It was musk, soap, and something fundamentally, undeniably male.

“Your dad says you have a problem with your follow-through,” Darell began, not looking at me now, but staring at the glowing stones. Sweat was tracing the deep groove of his spine, sliding down the hard planes of his back. “That you get in your head. You tense up. Golf’s not a game of force, Matt. It’s a game of release.”

I moved to the lower bench, opposite him, the wood searing against the backs of my thighs. I could feel his gaze on me again, a physical pressure.

“I don’t know,” I managed, my own voice sounding thin and young. “I just… I can’t seem to get it right when it counts.”

“That’s because you’re fighting yourself,” he said, and now he did look at me, those blue eyes piercing through the steam. “The power doesn’t come from muscling it. It comes from letting everything go. All the tension. All the…” he paused, his eyes dropping for a fraction of a second to my mouth, then lower, to where my own towel was tented over my lap, “…the resistance.”

The word hung in the air, thick and laden. My mouth went dry. I was painfully, acutely aware of my own body. Of the sweat trickling between my pecs, over my stomach. Of the way the damp towel clung to me. And of the traitorous, swelling heat that was gathering low in my belly, completely independent of the sauna’s temperature.

“Show me your grip,” he said suddenly, swinging his legs down. He landed on the floor with a soft thud, standing directly in front of me. He was closer than any man had ever been to me in a state of near-nudity. I could see every pore, every scar—a thin white line on his ribs, the dark circles of his nipples drawn tight from the heat. The towel around his hips seemed perilously loose.

“My… grip?”

“On an imaginary club. Show me.”

My hands were trembling slightly as I raised them, mimicking a golf hold. In an instant, his own hands—massive, calloused, strong—enveloped mine. His skin was blazing hot, slick with sweat. His front was only inches from my face. The scent of him was overwhelming.

“Too tight in the right hand,” he murmured, his breath stirring the damp hair on my forehead. His thumbs pressed into the fleshy parts of my palms, a firm, insistent pressure. “You’re choking it. You have to hold it like you mean it, but like you’re not afraid it’s going to fly away.”

His fingers slid between mine, adjusting, his touch lingering. A jolt, white-hot and undeniable, shot straight to my cock, which twitched violently beneath my towel, thickening, lifting the fabric. I knew he could see it. There was no hiding it. A flush that had nothing to do with the heat burned up my neck and across my face.

He didn’t move away. His eyes locked on mine, and in that blue depth, I saw no surprise, no disapproval. I saw a flicker of something else—a recognition, a dark, mirrored hunger. His own towel, I noticed with a dizzying rush of blood to my head, was no longer lying flat. A distinct, heavy bulge was pushing against the terrycloth, tenting it outwards in a formidable ridge.

“See?” he said, his voice dropping to a husky, intimate register that seemed to vibrate in my very bones. “Tension. It’s all right here.” One of his hands left mine and, with a slowness that was pure torture, came to rest not on my shoulder, but high on my inner thigh, just where it met my hip. The heat of his palm seared through the towel. “You’re holding it all in your core. In your… hips.”

His thumb moved, a tiny, circular stroke against the sensitive skin. My breath hitched, a sharp, audible gasp. I was fully, achingly hard now, my cock straining upwards, the head pressing blatantly against the damp fabric. Pre-cum was already leaking, a hot spot of moisture I was sure was visible.

“The lesson,” Darell whispered, leaning in so close his lips were almost at my ear. His stubble brushed my cheek. I could feel the solid wall of his chest hovering just over my shoulder. “Is about follow-through. It’s not enough to make contact. You have to commit to the entire motion. You have to finish.”

His hand on my thigh slid upward, an inch. Then another. The rough pad of his thumb brushed the underside of my shaft through the towel. A full-body shudder wracked me. A helpless, needy sound escaped my throat—a soft, choked-off ahh.

He pulled back just enough to look into my eyes again. His own were hooded, dark with an intent that made my stomach clench with wild anticipation. The bulge in his towel was monumental, the outline of the head clearly defined.

“Your dad wanted me to teach you consistency,” Darell said, a wicked, knowing curve on his lips. “To show you how to perform under pressure.” His free hand came up and, with a deliberate slowness that stopped my heart, he tugged at the knot of his own towel. It loosened. The fabric gaped. I caught a glimpse of a thatch of coarse, dark hair and the thick, ruddy base of his cock before he stopped, leaving it hanging open.

He saw where I was looking. And he smiled.

“Lesson one, Matt,” he rumbled. “Let’s see if you can finally learn to… release.”

His hand on my thigh crept the final, decisive inch, his fingers curling over the hard, aching length of me, squeezing just once through the fabric—a promise, a claim, an end to all the pretending.

And in that stifling, scented heat, with my father’s name hanging in the air between us, I did. I let go. Everything.

This happened when I was in my early twenties. I got going on a few dates/hookups and exploring my sexuality a bit as a late bloomer. I was mean to meet up with a guy I'd been chatting with on Grindr at a bar downtown, but got ghosted. I decided to stay out and enjoy the night since I was already out, and found myself with a few too many drinks in me on the dancefloor of popular bar at midnight on a Wednesday...not my usual scene but whatever.

There was a shorter guy who caught my eye- he was slim and had curly blonde hair and tight black jeans that wrapped around the nicest ass I'd ever seen. He was a good foot shorter than me, and we danced together for a bit. He must have noticed me giving him attention as he was grinding up on me a couple of times (so fuckin hot). The bar was dying down for the evening and there weren't many people left now. I ducked off to the bathroom and realised how tipsy I was- bouncing off the walls a couple of times on my way there. Heading back to the bar I thought I'd get one more drink and one last look t that ass before I called a cab.

"Hey hottie!" someone called out as I was about to enter the main bar area. It was coming from another room off the main bar they must have used for functions or something, and it took me a moment to realise it was directed at me. I look over and there he was, Tight Jeans, beckoning me over into the adjoining room. I could see it was empty, unused at this time of the night. As I approached he grabbed my waistband playfully and pulled me over to a tall table in the corner. We were making out for a minute or so, I was hard as a rock despite the alcohol. Without a word he pushed me back into the wall and got down on his hands and knees, fumbling to undo my belt before he was even on the floor. He whipped my cock out right there and started sucking me.....god it felt amazing. His lips wrapped around my dick and gripped like a vice and he worked himself right down to my balls. I felt his blonde curls under my hands and I egged him on, not knowing what was going on but being in absolute heaven. He gagged occasionally but that only made him press his face into my crotch harder.

After a couple of minutes my eyes must have adjusted to the darker setting and I was shocked to realise we weren't alone....there was a guy probably in his mid thirties sitting across the room on a bar stool, watching us in the corner. His legs were apart and he was massaging his bulge. On the table next to him was another guy, slightly older but not over 50, standing and openly gazing at us as well. I knew I should have felt embarrassed but in the moment it just felt like a dream, and I was so turned on by getting my dick deepthroated in a bar I just went with it.

At some point, Tight Jeans got up and started making out with me again. I was running my hands over that perfect bubble butt as he undid his own jeans and pulled them down just enough for my fingers to tickle between his cheeks, working between them until I could feel his tight little hole. He didn't let me explore for long, before turning around and bending over right in front of me, grinding back into my dick. He pinned me against the wall before I grabbed his hips and started pushing back. My cock was still sopping wet from his saliva, and he leaned over a bar stool I frantically tried to find his hole in my lust-crazed state. I slipped it straight into him and kept pushing till I was all the way inside. He let out a loud moan and I started going to town right there in the dark with him and the two lurkers watching on. His ass was just as good as I'd imagined on the dance floor, tight and warm as he pushed back onto me at every thrust. At some point one of the lurkers came over and was standing just a few feet away from us. I only lasted a few minutes before by vision blurred and I came harder than I ever had before, with one last deep push into that perfect ass.

"Fuck you two are hot," I heard the guy who had walked over say as he left. The other was nowhere to be seen.

We cleaned ourselves up, he slipped his jeans back on with his ass now full of my cum, and we swapped numbers before heading back out to the dance floor. Still one of the hottest experiences of my life.

It’s college move in week where I go to university and I recently got back into my college town for my junior year. I live in a Townhouse with a friend of mine and 2 of our former roommates moved out so the apartment complex assigned us a new one.

About a month ago we got an email from the property manager connecting the three of us. My new roommate sent his number and some info and we chatted for a bit but not that much even though we’d soon be living together.

Flash forward to last week when I came back to town and he was moving in the next day. Checking out his Instagram it was clear that he was gay, he’s a textbook definition of a twink. Short, skinny, blonde hair, and clothes that most guys wouldn’t wear unless they were comfortable with their sexuality. My new roommate (let’s call him Alex) was definitely that.

I moved some of my stuff I took home with me over the summer back into the apartment and then showed him around and how we like to keep the kitchen and living spaces for all three of us. Then we chatted about what we did over the summer and made small talk.

Over the next couple of days it was pretty chill. I like to walk around shirtless in just my house shorts or gym shorts and Alex didn’t seem to mind. In fact it only took a couple of days before he was doing the same, although his shorts were much shorter and tighter around his ass.

Then there was 2 days ago where he gave me the blowjob. We were smoking weed and talking about classes we had and just general life stuff when he asked me straight up if I’d ever gotten a blowjob from a guy. I blushed a bit and told him not really, but that I wouldn’t mind one.

He seemed to like this a lot and perked up asking me things like “really? I think you’d like it.” And “I bet you have a really nice cock.” He was super flirty and forward and had his hand on my crotch which turned into a bulge and eventually I was fully hard and he was rubbing my cock over my shorts. He started teasing me for being gay and that I was soooo hard.

Then he got up and ran to his room before coming back down. He had a blindfold in his hand and told me to put it on. I did what he asked and put it on and then I could feel him take off my shorts as I lifted myself up slightly for him to do it.

Then he proceeded to give me the absolute best blowjob/rimming of my entire life. He started by just licking my cock shaft and balls, stuffing his face into my crotch and moaning to send vibrations. Then he sat next to me and started to jerk me off slowly, spitting on my cock every few minutes and whispering hot things in my ear like how my dick turned him on and how good he was going to suck me off. He basically edged me a few times as I sat there with my cock in his hand.

Then he went on to get on his knees again and suck me off. He started slow, focusing on the tip and upper half of my cock for a bit before deepthroating me and face fucking himself. The first time he came up for air he told me to bring my legs up to my chest and when he would take a break from deep throating and sucking me off he would eat my ass for a few minutes. He’d switch back and forth a few times before I blew probably the biggest and most powerful load of all time.

We agreed that we would keep this little arrangement going even when our other roommate would eventually come back later this week. It has been a couple of days though and we haven’t done anything since or even really talked about it.

Everyone is over 18

I arrived a little late at the apartment where the party was being held.

Someone yelled my name when they saw me. Someone else immediately handed me a beer before I even had time to take off my jacket.

The living room was loud, stuffy, and familiar. Around ten guys from our college days were sitting on couches, chairs, and the floor, beers in their hands, laughing too loudly at stories every one of us had already heard at least three times.

They weren't all close friends of mine. Some were more like guys I knew from the dorms, parties, late-night walks back through the city, or those stupid bets that had seemed like the most important thing in the world back then.

But it didn't matter.

That evening, we were all acting a little like we were still twenty years old and had no responsibilities beyond who could tell the best story, who could drink the fastest, and who could remind someone of their most embarrassing moment from college.

The conversations jumped from one subject to another. Work, apartments, old parties, girls whose names half of us could no longer remember, and bets no sane person should ever have accepted. The longer we sat there, the more that old atmosphere returned. That stupid, masculine kind of competition where nobody wanted to seem boring, cautious, or too grown-up.

At first, it was innocent. We laughed about who had once fallen asleep in the hallway, who had broken the bathroom door, and who had tried to pick up a girl but ended up talking to her boyfriend for an hour.

Then the jokes started getting bolder.

Someone brought up the old dorm challenges. Someone else said that students today wouldn't have the courage to do half the things we had done back then without a second thought. Naturally, that immediately led to protests, laughter, and bragging.

I sat on the edge of the couch with a beer in my hand, watching all of them with a faint smile.

Even then, I knew the night wasn't going to end normally.

I don't remember who mentioned Ryan first.

Maybe it started with some stupid dorm story. Maybe with a bet nobody could tell the same way anymore. All I know is that at some point, someone laughed louder, pointed his bottle toward the armchair by the window, and said:

"Okay, but nobody here can beat Ryan."

We all looked in that direction.

Ryan was sprawled in the armchair as though the entire apartment belonged to him. One arm rested on the armrest, while the other loosely held his beer. He wore that shameless grin of his, the one that immediately reminded me of college.

He had already been handsome back then, but now he looked even better. His T-shirt stretched across his shoulders and chest, making it impossible not to notice how much broader he had become.

"Ryan?" someone scoffed. "Why? Because he's going to start talking about his legendary trick again?"

Ryan raised his eyebrows.

"I don't need to talk about it. Everyone remembers."

Several of the guys immediately started laughing. I smiled too, although I didn't completely know what they were talking about. I had once heard fragments of the story, something involving a shower, a bet, and a "volcano," but I had always assumed it was one of those college legends that became more absurd with every passing year.

"Wait," one of the guys said. "Can you seriously still do that cum volcano trick?"

Ryan slowly set down his beer.

"Of course," he said. "Even better than I could back then."

The room immediately became louder. Someone swore, someone laughed, and someone said there was no chance.

Then one word was spoken.

"Prove it."

For a moment, Ryan simply stared at the guy who had challenged him. Then he gave a short laugh, as though he had just heard something ridiculous, but I could see in his eyes that this was exactly what he had been waiting for.

"You really want to see it?" he asked.

Several of the guys immediately responded with laughter and swearing. Someone said that after all these years, Ryan was probably all talk. Someone else said that anyone who had a problem with it could go into the kitchen.

Nobody left.

Ryan stood up from the armchair and moved a chair into the middle of the living room. That simple movement suddenly changed the entire atmosphere. A moment earlier, it had only been a joke, another piece of college bragging dragged out after years.

Now everyone was watching him.

And he liked it.

I could tell by the way he removed his T-shirt. Slowly, without rushing, without the slightest trace of embarrassment. The fabric slid over his stomach and chest, revealing a body that looked almost perfect. He was built in a way that was genuinely difficult to ignore. Broad shoulders, a hard chest, a flat stomach, powerful thighs.

People were still joking, but the laughter had changed.

It sounded more nervous now.

When Ryan unbuttoned his pants, someone whistled. Someone else muttered something under his breath.

I didn't say anything.

I watched.

When he finally exposed his cock, the room became quieter for a second. It was long, heavy, impressive, and already partially hard.

Ryan sat down on the chair, relaxed and confident, as though he knew exactly what kind of impression he was making.

He wrapped his hand around himself and smiled.

"Okay," he said. "Watch closely."

Ryan started slowly, as though he had no interest in reaching the finish too quickly.

First, he moved his hand lazily along his shaft, more for the benefit of his audience than because he was seriously trying to get himself off. His cock twitched between his fingers, long and heavy, growing harder with every passing second. Ryan leaned back more comfortably in the chair, spread his thighs wider, and flashed that shameless grin of his, as though the entire room had become his audience.

"You still think I was just talking?" he asked.

Someone answered. Someone laughed, but I barely heard them.

I was watching his hand.

He held himself confidently, slowly sliding his palm from the base all the way to the tip. He wasn't nervous. He wasn't rushing. Every movement was controlled, almost arrogant, as though Ryan knew perfectly well that everyone was waiting for the moment when he finally lost control. He rubbed his thumb across the wet tip, spreading the first drop over his skin, then moved his hand down again and gripped the shaft more firmly.

At first, people were still making jokes. Stupid comments, nervous laughter, curses spoken more out of disbelief than disgust.

But the longer Ryan touched himself, the quieter the room became.

Because it no longer looked like a joke.

His cock was completely hard now. Long, tense, and heavy in his hand. Ryan's breathing grew deeper, and the muscles of his stomach tightened with every slower stroke. Again and again, he moved his hand along the full length, tighter around the base and slower near the tip, as though he were deliberately delaying the moment when everyone would find out whether the legend was really true.

At one point, he stopped smiling.

That was the first thing that truly struck me.

Ryan, who only moments earlier had been turning it into a show, suddenly looked focused. His jaw tightened slightly, his head tipped back, and his hand began to move faster. He was no longer merely putting on a performance.

Now he was genuinely pushing himself toward the edge.

That was when I realized something nobody else seemed to notice.

Ryan wasn't getting hard only because of his own hand.

He was getting hard because everyone was watching him.

The attention turned him on. Every stare, every nervous laugh, every quiet "fuck" from the other side of the room only made him more aroused. He sat there naked and shameless, his cock in his hand, looking like a man who truly believed he was about to prove something nobody else would have the courage to attempt.

His movements became shorter and firmer. His hand moved faster, his skin grew wetter, and his breathing broke more frequently. His thighs tightened on either side of the chair.

His stomach trembled.

"Okay," he gasped suddenly. "Now watch."

He slowed down.

One more stroke.

Then another.

And then he stopped.

He released his cock.

For a second, nothing happened. Ryan sat with his legs spread wide, breathing heavily, his cock standing hard and wet, as though his entire body were suspended in that one moment.

Then his cock pulsed, and the first thick spurt burst from the tip.

Someone beside me swore immediately, but Ryan wasn't finished. His cock continued to pulse untouched, without any movement of his hand.

I was shocked by how much cum was pouring out of him.

It wasn't one quick shot followed by nothing. It kept spilling from him, thick and white, running from the tip, down the shaft, and over his balls. It gathered there for a moment, sticky and heavy, before beginning to drip onto the floor.

One drop.

Then another.

The room erupted in laughter and disbelief. Someone shouted that Ryan really hadn't been lying. Another guy half-rose from his seat, as though he couldn't decide whether to keep watching or turn away.

I remained completely still.

Because to them, it was a party trick.

To me, it was something entirely different.

I stared at his tense body, his trembling thighs, and the long cock from which the final white streaks were still slowly dripping.

Then a thought appeared in my mind so clearly that heat rushed through my entire body.

I wondered what something like that would feel like in my mouth.

I swallowed, forced myself to smile, and before I could truly think about what I was doing, I said:

"Party at my place next week. Everyone's invited."

Everyone is over the age of 18

--------------------------------------------------

I honestly wasn't going to post this anymore, but the response on the last one told me that you horny fucks still want to know more, so here it is.

Part 1 if it'll get your rocks off. TLDR: My frat bro has been giving me some sex tips. The bonus is that we told our girlfriends and they've been doing dirty stuff together for practice and it's really hot. What was supposed to just be some tricks on foreplay have turned onto a full on project for Travis. The more I do with Travis, the more it turns our girlfriends on and they do more, which turns us on more. Every time it gets a little bit further, and last time Trav straight up ate my ass out and it was a wild orgasm. That's the stuff that's become normal in our friendship and I don't really know if there is a going back after that.

I have to give it to Trav. I knew it wouldn't be weird for us to hang out together, because we're the ones doing the “coaching” together. But, because the girls are doing the same thing on their end, I felt a little apprehensive going into our usual double date hangouts.

I guess when I boil the anxiety down, I just thought that we would have questions for each other, and I wasn't exactly ready to talk about the very gay shit that I've been doing with Travis. Obviously my girlfriend knows all about it, but… you know, it’s weird as hell.

But yeah, I have to give it to Trav. His casual energy made it feel like nothing was different, and it paved the way to a pretty chill night with some beers and Monopoly.

By the way, I kick ass at Monopoly. I'm that guy that buys up all the property and gets paid every turn. 

“Sheesh, Matt. That's unethical,” Travis says as he forks over some more fake bills. 

“You don't even know what that word means,” I say as I count the bills obnoxiously in front of him. “Missing 5.” I hold my hand out to beckon for more. 

“I'm broke.” He spreads his fingers. “Babe, can I borrow 5 dollars? My landlord is going to break my legs.” 

“No way,” Lara says with a giggle. “My momma always said I had to find a man that can make money.” 

“That's cold, bruh. Real cold,” Travis says. “Alright. Guess I gotta sell what I got.” 

He takes another gulp of beer and burps loudly. While the 3 of us groan collectively, Travis pulls off his shirt and swings it in a circle above his head. 

“This has gotta be worth 5 bucks.” He chucks the shirt past my head. “5 for each.” My buddy makes each pec dance individually. It's actually kind of impressive the isolation that he's achieved. 

I notice that my girlfriend crosses her legs and that draws my attention to her. 

Does she…like Trav? 

My own chest muscles tense as I realize how curiously Naomi is looking at my best friend. 

“Okay! Here!” Lara hands him a 5 dollar bill. “Oh my god.” She shares a look with Naomi and they giggle together. Travis gives me a little wink as he hands me his fake money. 

“My turn,” I say. Trav rolls the dice in his palm and then sets it down on the table out of my reach. 

“You ladies want to kiss for us?” he says.

“Oh, here we go.” Lara rolls her eyes flirtatiously. Travis leans back on his chair and reaches his arm behind her. 

It's funny, but I'm starting to recognize when my best buddy is horny. He gets a very obvious look in his eyes. 

“Just a little kiss.” His thumb caresses her shoulder. Lara and Naomi giggle at each other, and I can tell that Trav is about to get what he wants. 

The table is too big for them to lean forward and touch. They'll have to stand up if they want to do it. 

Travis makes eye contact with me and I feel the frat boy energy coming off him. He cocks his head to the side to signal to me, and it encourages me to say something. 

“Would be hot,” I say to my girlfriend. 

“Oh, fuck yeah,” Travis murmurs as both ladies stand up. “Oh…” His lips purse in appreciation. 

I look away when he turns his head to me, but then I meet his eyes again. He nods and extends his beer to me. I cheers with him and we drink to our girlfriends getting it on. 

“Now, you guys kiss,” Lara says. 

“Nah,” I say instinctually. 

“Damn, I'm offended,” Travis says. “I thought you liked it.” 

Even though it's just the four of us, speaking out loud the fact that I've kissed my best guy friend makes me feel… it makes me feel… 

“If you guys kiss too, we might do more,” Lara says seductively, and she grabs my girlfriend’s ass. 

“You better come here and land one on me right now, buddy!” Travis knocks on the table and stands up. “Come on. Be a man!” 

I stand up slowly, and meet Travis at the side of the table. 

“Make it good,” Lara says off to the side. I feel their eyes on us, but I look directly at the man in front of me. 

“Let's do it,” Travis says to me. 

I have no idea what to do with any of my limbs, so I stand there while Trav gets closer. His warm hand caresses the back of my neck, and his head tilts to the left. 

Oh god.

His stubble prick my chin as we make contact. The first kiss is soft, with our lips testing each other’s comfort zone. 

“We wanna see tongue!” 

I smile through the kiss and then get pulled back into the game when Travis’ other hand pulls on the front of my shirt. 

“Mmm…” I groan as his tongue, cool with the taste of beer, slithers in my mouth. Our tongues tangle briefly like dancers meeting each other for the first time, and then my tongue gets sucked into his mouth. 

“Mmm,” Travis grunts as he maintains gentle control over me. 

“This is so hot,” I hear Naomi say. She sounds like she's getting closer.  I turn slightly to see if that's true, and my bottom lip becomes my best friend’s new target. 

“Mmm.” I focus back on him, accepting his kisses and then returning the favour on his bottom lip. Naturally, I go to grab his shirt and am reminded that he took it off when my hand touches his bare skin. 

I feel my shorts start to come down and I am startled at how quickly Travis is ready to show what we've been practicing in private. 

Wait… one of his hands is on my neck .. and the other is pulling my shirt. 

That means… 

My boner springs free and a familiar hand grabs it a second later.

“Oh…” Travis grunts in my mouth. Through the battle of our lips, he moans, “That feels good, babe.” 

“Just keep doing what you're doing,” Lara says from underneath us. A hand pushes up my shirt and Travis’ touch disappears from my neck. 

I move back and lift my arms as my buddy takes off my shirt. During this second, he smiles at me like we just won the lottery. 

“Couch is a little more comfortable,” he says to all of us. We step out of our shorts and sit on the two seater. His hairy right leg touches mine as we spread our legs to make room for our girlfriends. 

“Keep kissing.” 

“Come here, my man.” Travis holds my chin and directs me back into him. 

“OhhHHHHH!” A warm wet mouth surrounds my wood and Trav bites gently into my bottom lip. 

“Remember to hold his balls.” 

“Mmmm…” I close my mouth around Travis, humming my appreciation into him as warmth spreads in my groin. 

I feel the exact moment he gets sucked too, because his shivering reverberates in my skull. 

Schluck… Shluck… Shluck…

A set of wet sucking sounds hypnotizes me, and I suck my friend’s lips while I surf the waves of pleasure radiating upwards at me. 

“Ohhh…” Travis breaks the kiss and I get a full look at his furrowed eyebrows. He looks down at the head that is deep in his crotch. He then looks over to me and puts his hand on my girlfriend’s head. 

Our eyes meet again and he slowly pushes down.

My mouth opens wide as my entire shaft gets taken. 

“Yeah?” Trav asks me. 

“Yeah… oh…” I crunch forward as my tip rubs against deep, hot, and squishy flesh. Travis’ sweaty arm wraps around my shoulder and pulls me in. 

“Fuck, that's good,” he whispers close to my ear. All I can see is his big bush and thighs. His cock is just as deep in as mine is. “Alright, babe. Suck me.” 

Both heads lift at the same time and I take a deep breath as my wet shaft meets the air again. 

“A little faster on him,” Travis says. His left hand guides Naomi’s head on me. It takes a couple of seconds, but it establishes a rhythm that I like. 

“Oh…” I moan. 

“That's about right, man?” My buddy’s strong hand helps preserve the pace. 

“Yeah…” I grunt. Upon lifting my head, I come face to face with Travis. 

“Keep going like that,” he instructs while looking at me. We lean into each others and the kissing is soft again like the first time. 

“Oh…oh…” I moan, making out with him in harmony with how my dick is getting sucked. 

“Oh yeah, keep going, babe. I'm close.” Travis’s building excitement is evident in the way he pursues my lips. I feel my energy rise to match his. “Just like that, babe.” 

“Oh…oh…” I breathe heavily. My kisses get more sloppy, like how the blowjob starts to feel more messy. 

“Cum with me, buddy.” His thumb rubs in circles on the nape of my neck. 

“Oh…Oh…Oh…” I pant in his mouth, and he pants in mine. 

“Yeah… I'm going to cum…you with me?” His hand slides to the side of my face. His sweaty palm holds us together, and his thumb touches my earlobe. 

“OH! OH!” Unbearable pressure makes me want to look down, but Travis supports my face. 

“Yeah! Yeah! OH!” I inhale his exhale. 

“OH!” I moan.

“OH!” 

“FUCkkKk!” 

“AHHH!” 

I burst through the dam, and our exchange of breaths feels hot and heavy until our lips mutually close around each other. 

Fuck! Fuck! I spurt quickly into the wet, messy blowjob and hang on to my life through tight kisses. 

“Ah!” The absence of a warm hole on my pole makes the need to look down uncontrollable. I watch my dick give out another rope of cum onto my pubes. 

“Oh…” Travis groans beside me. I watch his cock strengthen its arc and relax, then strengthen again. 

Our girlfriends stand up abruptly and run off to the bathroom together. I hear them giggle in the distance while my cock does a similar tightening and releasing as Travis' member. 

“Finish me off,” Travis reaches over and grabs my dick. 

“Aw… fuck,” I groan in pleasure as he squeezes my meat the way it wants to be squeezed. 

“Finish me off!” 

I reach over his hairy arm and grip his cock. It flexes immediately in my hand, and I know to stroke him gently in the middle.

It's what I would do to my own cock if it did that. 

“Oh…” Travis sighs a breath of relief as he oozes clear fluid. I watch it make its way onto my fist. His constricted breathing relaxes to full deep breaths. 

Actually, mine does too. 

“They're not very good at knowing what dicks want, huh?” Travis smiles at me. “Can't really fault them for it though.” 

“Yeah.” I close my eyes to enjoy the way he squeezes the remaining liquid out of me. It's what I would do, but of course it's better than doing it myself. 

“I guess aftercare will have to be the next subject in the syllabus,” Travis says. 

Author’s note: All my characters are consenting adults (18+). All sexual acts depicted are consensual between the adult characters.

Chapter 1

It was the summer of 1984 and the whole house smelled like motor oil and the cheap incense Mom burned to cover it up. Scott worked the garage with Dad six days a week. Marco came over almost every afternoon after his shift at the warehouse. I stayed in my room with the radio low, Duran Duran, Madonna, Human League, dreaming about New York and the kind of stages where boys who looked like me could disappear into the lights.

I was eighteen. Blond. Soft in the face. No beard. Scott used to call me “ballerina boy” when he was feeling mean. Marco just laughed and ruffled my hair like I was still twelve. They were both twenty. Scott was the tall one — freckled, red hair cut short, the kind of athletic body that came from lifting engines and tires everyday. Marco was shorter, darker, thick through the chest and arms from stacking boxes all day. Italian blood, black hair, the beginnings of a mustache he kept trying to grow. Neither of them had real beards yet. They still looked like the boys who’d stolen beer from the fridge three summers ago, only now they were working men and the house felt smaller when they were both in it. They were loud and their energy was totally different from mine.

They never closed Scott’s door all the way.
I learned that in June.
I’d be walking past with a glass of water or a towel from the bathroom and the door would be cracked just enough. Playboy and Hustler magazines spread across the bed — Marco’s dad’s, the ones with the glossy centerfolds and the girls who looked like they belonged on album covers. Scott and Marco would be side by side, jeans open, fists moving in the same slow rhythm. Sometimes they talked. Low. Honest in the way only two straight boys get when they think no one is listening.

“I’d give anything for a real blowjob,” Marco said one afternoon. The fan was going. The air was thick. “Girls around here won’t do it. Or they do it like they’re scared of the thing.”

Scott laughed, that short rough sound he made when he agreed but didn’t want to say so.

“Same. Had two different ones last month. Both just licked the tip and acted like they’d done me a favor. I want someone who actually sucks it. Takes it. You know?”

I stood in the hallway with my heart in my throat and the glass sweating in my hand. I went back to my room and turned the Soft Cell “Tainted Love” I was super addicted up louder so I wouldn’t hear the wet sounds that came after.

That night I took a big carrot from the fridge.
I’d seen it done in a magazine once — some underground thing a kid at school passed around. Practice. I locked my door, put “Rio” on low, and learned how to open my throat. It hurt at first. My eyes watered. I gagged and had to stop. But I kept going. Night after night. Until I could take most of it without choking. Until the idea of doing it for real sat in my stomach like something warm and secret.

I waited three more days.
They were at it again on a Thursday. Door cracked. Playboy open to some blonde on a motorcycle.

“Her boobs are huge, I would love to rub my cock..” Said Marco.

“I bet she loves to suck cock, man.”

“Bet on it.”

Scott’s red hair was damp at the temples. Marco’s shirt was off, the little dark hair on his chest shiny under the desk lamp. Both of them hard, fists moving, the air in the room thick with the smell of skin and the cheap supermarket cologne Marco always wore.

I pushed the door open the rest of the way.
They both froze.
Scott’s green eyes went wide. Marco’s hand stopped mid-stroke. The carrot was in my right hand, still cool from the fridge. I held it up so they could see the size of it.

“I heard what you said,” I told them. My voice came out smaller than I wanted. “About nobody doing it right. I’ve been practicing with this big carrot.”

Scott sat up fast. “Gene. What the fuck? Get the fuck out. You should knock!”

“I can do it.” I stepped closer. The floorboards creaked. “I want to. Let me.”

Marco looked at Scott. Scott looked at the carrot. Then at my mouth. The heat in the room had nothing to do with July anymore.

“You’re serious,” Scott said. It wasn’t a question.

“Yeah.”
Marco let out a breath that was almost a laugh. “Your little brother’s a queer, man.”

“Shut up,” Scott said, but he didn’t tell me to leave.

I dropped to my knees between the bed and the desk. The carpet was rough. I could smell them both — sweat, the leftover garage on Scott, the warehouse sweaty air on Marco. I set the carrot down and reached for Scott first because he was my brother and because

I’d been watching him longer.
He didn’t stop me.
I pulled his jeans lower. His cock was already thick, the head flushed dark, a bead of wet at the slit. Freckles across his hips. I wrapped my hand around the base and leaned in. The first taste was sweaty skin and salt. I took the head into my mouth and sucked the way I’d practiced, slow, letting my tongue work underneath. Scott’s hand landed on the back of my head like he didn’t trust himself not to push.

“Dear God…” he muttered.

Marco shifted closer on the bed, still stroking, watching with dark eyes. “He’s actually doing it.”

I took Scott deeper. The practice paid off. My throat opened and the thick length slid back until my nose pressed against the red hair at his base. I held it there, breathing through my nose, eyes watering, until Scott’s hips twitched. When I pulled off, a string of spit connected my lip to the head.

Marco didn’t wait for an invitation. He shoved his own jeans down and tapped the side of my face with his cock — shorter than Scott’s but thicker, darker, the head already wet, anxious for attention.

“My turn, blondie. Show me what the carrot taught you.”

I turned and took him in. The angle was different. The smell of him was stronger — pure heat and the faint trace of the warehouse. I went down until the thick head pushed into my throat and Marco let out a low, surprised sound that made my stomach flip. His hand fisted in my blond hair and held me there for a second longer than I expected.

“Fuck. He’s good. Scott, your little brother, he’s actually good.”

They started trading me after that.
Scott would pull me back by the hair and feed his cock into my mouth while Marco stroked himself and watched. Then Marco would take over, using both hands to keep my head still while he thrust up from the bed. The competition was quiet at first. Then it got verbal.

“He takes more of mine,” Scott said, voice rough. “Look at that, he prefers his big brother’s carrot.”

“Bullshit. Watch this.” Marco pushed deeper and held me down until I gagged around him. Spit ran down my chin and onto his balls. “That’s deeper.”

I let them use me. That was the whole point. I wanted to be the mouth they couldn’t get from the girls in town. I wanted the taste of both of them mixed on my tongue. The radio in my room was still playing faintly through the wall — some line from a Blondie song— and it felt like the whole summer had been building to this sticky, overheated Thursday afternoon with my brother’s cock in my throat and his best friend’s hand in my hair.

They got coordinated without talking about it.
Scott pulled me off Marco and onto himself, fucking my mouth in short, deep strokes. Marco knelt up on the bed so his cock was level with my face. Whenever Scott pulled back, Marco pushed in. They found a rhythm — one filling my throat while the other slapped against my cheek, wet and heavy.

Spit everywhere. The wet sounds filled the room. My jaw ached, these were real cocks, not lifeless carrots. My knees hurt. I was harder than I’d ever been in my life and neither of them touched me once. They were only into my mouth.

“Gonna come,” Scott warned, voice tight.

“Same,” Marco said. “Let’s cum at the same time, man. I wanna see it.”

They pulled out at almost the same time. Scott stroked fast, the head of his thick Italian cock dark and shiny. Marco did the same, shorter strokes, breathing hard through his mouth. I stayed on my knees, mouth open, tongue out, looking up at both of them the way I’d practiced in the mirror with the carrot.

Scott came first — thick ropes across my cheek and into my open mouth. Marco followed two seconds later, aiming for my tongue and my other cheek, the two loads mixing warm and bitter on my face. I kept my mouth open until they were both finished, then closed it and swallowed what had landed on my tongue. The rest ran down my chin in slow lines.

Nobody spoke for a long minute, like we were in total disbelief.
Scott was the one who finally moved. He reached over, grabbed a dirty t-shirt from the floor, and wiped my face with surprising care. His ears were red. Marco sat back on his heels, still breathing hard, looking at me like he was trying to decide what I was now.

“You tell anyone,” Scott said quietly, “and I’ll..”

“I’m not gonna tell.” I promised.

Marco laughed, short and disbelieving. “Your brother’s a cocksucker. An actual cocksucker.”

“Shut up, Marco. Fuck off.”

I stayed on my knees until they both tucked themselves away and the Playboy was closed. The carrot was still on the floor where I’d dropped it. Scott kicked it under the bed with one foot and didn’t look at me when he said,

“Go clean up, Gene. Mom’s gonna be home in an hour.”

I stood on shaky legs. My throat felt used. My lips were swollen. The taste of both of them was still thick on my tongue.
I walked back to my room and locked the door. The radio was playing “Save a Prayer.” I sat on the edge of the bed and touched my mouth with two fingers, feeling the ghost of them there.

I already knew I’d do it again. For all the boys I would meet in New York. The pleasure of sucking cock was almost the same pleasure I felt while dancing to my favorite songs.

The next time the door was cracked and the magazines were open, I wouldn’t need the carrot.
I’d just walk in and get on my knees.
And they would let me, I was easy.

All the characters are 18+

~~~

By nine that night, I was the only person left on my floor… or at least, I thought I was.

Then I heard the quiet click of a keyboard from the cubicle beside mine.

I looked over and saw Mark.

He was still at his desk, staring at his monitor, one hand resting on the mouse while the other moved across the keyboard. His glasses had slipped slightly down his nose, and every few minutes he’d push them back up without even looking away from the screen.

I’d worked with him for months, but I barely knew the guy.

Mark was quiet. Not awkward, exactly. He just didn’t seem interested in being part of the office chatter. In meetings, he usually sat near the end of the table and spoke only when someone asked him something directly. He’d come in before most of us, disappear into his cubicle, and somehow still be there when everyone else had gone home.

I’d noticed him before, obviously. You’d have to be blind not to.

But that night was the first time I found myself wondering what he was actually like when nobody else was around.

I gathered my things, stretched my sore neck, and was about to head for the elevator when I heard the soft click of the door to Mark’s cubicle locking. I froze, heart thudding against my ribs. Why would he lock it? I wondered, a flicker of something... anticipation, maybe fear... tracing up my spine.

I turned slowly, and there he was, standing just inside the doorway, his back to me, shoulders tense. He didn’t look up when I approached.. instead, he slipped a key into the lock and turned it, the mechanism giving a soft, final click. The hallway lights flickered once, then steadied, casting a pale glow over the linoleum.

“Hey,” I said, trying to keep my voice casual. “You staying late too?”

He finally turned, his eyes meeting mine for a brief second before dropping to the floor. His face was pale, his lips pressed into a thin line. “Yeah,” he muttered, voice low, almost a whisper. “Just… need to finish up.”

I nodded, feeling the odd tension in the air. He’s nervous, I thought. Or maybe he’s hiding something. I took a step closer, the scent of his cologne... something sharp and clean... mixing with the stale office air. “Can I help?” I offered, not really expecting him to say yes.

He hesitated, then glanced at the door again, as if making sure it was truly locked. “No,” he said, voice barely audible. “I… I just need to be alone for a minute.”

I frowned, confusion mixing with a sudden, inexplicable urge to stay. What’s going on? I wondered, my mind racing. I took another step, and before I could react, he lunged forward, grabbing my wrist with a strength that surprised me. His grip was firm, his fingers digging into my skin as he yanked me toward the desk.

“What the... ” I started, but he cut me off with a harsh shove that sent me stumbling backward until my back hit the cool metal of his desk. The impact knocked the breath out of me, and I stumbled, my hands flailing for balance. He was already moving, his other hand sliding under my shirt, fingertips brushing the skin of my abdomen, sending a jolt of heat through me.

What the fuck is he doing? I thought, panic and arousal tangled together because of his touches. I tried to pull away, but his grip was like iron. He shoved me harder, and I felt myself tip over the edge of the desk.

Another shove and I was tipping backward, sliding until my head was under the desk, cheek pressed to the cold metal drawer.

He didn’t say shit at first. Just stood there, hips right in my face, thick bulge already straining against his slacks. I could feel the heat of it through the fabric. My brain was screaming this is crazy, get the fuck out, but my dick was already twitching like a traitor.

Then he spoke with voice rough and shaking.

“Sorry… fuck, I’m sorry… I can’t keep this in anymore. Been staring at you for months.”

I didn’t even get a full thought out before he was unzipping. The sound of that zipper in the quiet office was filthy as hell. Pants shoved down just enough and there it was… long, thick, veiny, head already shiny with precum. Bigger than I expected from the quiet guy who never talked. My mouth went dry.

“Jesus Christ,” I breathed.

“Sorry for doing this… But fuckkk…. I can’t hide my lust for you anymore”

What? WHATTT… FUCKKK.. THIS IS SO HOT…SO FUCKIN HUGEEEE

It was long dude… so fucking hung…. veined and impossibly thick, the head a deep, angry red that pulsed with each beat of his heart.

Oh god, I thought, my throat tightening. It’s fuckin huge… How the fuckin hell he packed in that hung all the fuckin time…

“Sorry… sorry… Damn it.. Fuckkkk… your lips are so fucking hot”

He grabbed a fistful of my hair and shoved the head past my lips before I could close them. I gasped at the sudden invasion shocking me. His cock slid past my lips, the tip hitting the back of my throat before I could even register what was happening. I gagged hard, eyes watering instantly. He didn’t ease up. Just kept feeding it in his length, hips rolling, forcing more of that fat cock down my throat until my nose was almost against his stomach

 

I choked, spit running down my chin, but he held me there, using my hair like a handle. Every time I tried to pull back he pushed deeper. The underside of his cock dragged across my tongue, thick veins pulsing. My own dick was rock hard and leaking in my pants, pressing painfully against the zipper.

I can’t… I can’t take this… I thought, tears pricking at the corners of my eyes. Yet, as he thrust harder, a moan escaped me, low and guttural, vibrating around his length. “Mmmph…” I managed, the sound muffled by his girth.

“Arrrggghhh… fuckkk… mmgghhh.. Sooo hottt…. ugghh”

He groaned in response, a deep, throaty sound that seemed to come from somewhere deep within his chest. “Fuck… you’re so fucking hot…sooo goooddd… sooo gooddd… fuckkk..” he rasped, his voice raw with desire. His hips began to move faster, each thrust more urgent than the last. He was fucking my throat with a relentless rhythm, his balls swinging lightly against my chin with each forward motion.

I tried to relax my throat, to let him slide in and out without fighting. The sensation was bizarre... my throat stretched, my jaw aching, yet there was such heat in being used so completely, to feeling his power over me. My own cock grew, a hot coil tightening in my belly as I felt the pre-cum leak from my own cock, staining the front of my underwear.

God, I’m fuckin loving this, I thought, surprised at myself. I never imagined…I would get used like this… fuckkk The thought was both shocking and exhilarating. I could hear my own breathing turn into ragged gasps, each one punctuated by a soft moan that escaped despite my efforts to stay quiet. “Ahh… ahh…” I whispered, the sounds escaping my lips as he drove deeper.

His hands tightened in my hair, pulling my head back just enough to let him see my face. I could see the intensity in his eyes, the raw hunger, the way his brows furrowed with concentration. He was lost in the moment, his focus solely on the feeling of my throat gripping his cock and milking it.

“Take it slut,” he commanded, his voice a hoarse whisper

“Take it… takeee… aarrggghhhh” he rasped, hips snapping. “Take every fucking inch, slut. Been thinking about this shit for so long…. watching you walk around in those tight pants, wondering how deep that throat goes… FUckkkkk.”

Fuckkkk… that’s so hot

The word “slut” from his mouth… a fuckin quiet coworker mouth… definitely… hit different. My cock throbbed so hard and it hurt. I relaxed my jaw as much as I could and let him use me. He bottomed out, cock head pushing into my throat, and held it there while I sputtered and drooled around him.

When he finally pulled back I gasped for air, strings of spit connecting my lips to his shiny shaft.

He didn’t give me long…. To fill my fuckin lungs… He fuckin shoved back in and started railing my throat like he was trying to rearrange it. Both hands in my hair, holding my head still so he could pound away. My eyes rolled. Every thrust forced more spit out of me. My pants were soaked at the front from how much I was leaking.

“Fuck… yeah,” he growled, his hips snapping forward with renewed vigor. He was fucking my face now, his cock pounding the back of my throat with each thrust. I could feel his precum leaking more freely, mixing with my saliva, creating a slick, hot mess that made each slide easier, yet no less intense.

“Fuck… your mouth… shit, look at you…” he groaned, voice cracking. “Sorry, sorry… goddamn it… fuckkk… your lips look so fucking good stretched around me.”

My own moans grew louder, unrestrained now. “Mmm… ahh… fuck…” I cried out, the words broken and breathless. Each thrust sent a jolt of pleasure through me, my own cock throbbing painfully against the fabric of my pants, begging for release.

He seemed to sense my desperation, his movements becoming even more frantic. He grabbed the back of my head with both hands, using it as leverage to drive himself deeper, his pelvis slamming against my face. The pressure was intense, his cock filling me completely, the head bumping against the back of my throat with each inward thrust. I could feel the veins of his shaft pulsing, the heat radiating outward, and I knew he was close.

He’s going to cum, I thought, a mixture of awe and need flooding me. I want it… I want to feel it.

His breathing grew ragged, his moans turning into low, guttural grunts. “I’m… I’m gonna…” he gasped, his voice breaking. “Fuck… I’m gonna cum…”

“Fuck, I’m so… arrrghhhh… fuckkk… close… gonna fill that pretty mouth…” His voice was pure grit. “Swallow it. Don’t you fucking waste a drop.”

I braced myself, tightening my throat around him, wanting to take every drop. He shuddered, his body tensing, and then with a deep, guttural roar that seemed to shake the desk, he came. Hot, thick jets of cum flooded my mouth, hitting the back of my throat with surprising force. I gagged momentarily, but his grip held me steady, forcing me to swallow.

The taste was salty, bitter, and intensely masculine. I felt each spurt coat my tongue, the volume surprising me... he seemed to pour out an endless stream.

“Ahhh… fuck… fuck.. yeaahhhh… FUCKKKK…” he moaned, his hips jerking as he rode out his orgasm, each pulse sending another wave of cum into my mouth.

I swallowed on instinct, throat working around his cock, but there was so much some of it leaked out the corners of my mouth and ran down my neck. He kept twitching, pumping more, hips jerking like he couldn’t stop.

When the last spurt finally subsided, he remained buried deep inside me for a moment, his breathing got heavy, his chest rising and falling against my back. I could feel his heart pounding through his chest, matching the frantic rhythm of my own.

Holy shit…. I just swallowed his fuckin cum… 

The realization hit me like a wave, mixing disbelief with a fierce, lingering arousal. My own cock was aching, a painful throb that demanded attention.

When he finally pulled out, a thick string of cum and spit stretched from my lips to his cockhead. I stayed under the desk for a second, breathing hard, throat aching, jaw aching, face a complete mess. My own dick was throbbing so bad I thought I might come just from the air hitting it.

He stared at me, his eyes wide, a mixture of shock and something else... maybe embarrassment, maybe satisfaction.

I sat up slowly with my mind buzzing. My mouth was feeling so sticky because of his cum and my own saliva. My own pants were damp at the front, a dark spot spreading where my precum had leaked.

Mark stared down at me, chest heaving, looking half-shocked at what he’d just done. He looked away, his cheeks flushed. “I… I’m sorry,” he muttered, voice barely audible. “I didn’t mean to.. But.. I… I.. I wanted y-. ”

“I… fuck. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to be that rough… It’s my carnal lust over you… I just… I’ve wanted you for so goddamn long.”

I wiped my mouth with the back of my hand, smearing the mess, and let out a hoarse laugh.

“Don’t…. uh… don’t apologize. That was the hottest shit that’s ever happened to me in this building.”

His eyes dropped to the obvious tent in my pants. “You… actually liked that?”

“Liked it? Dude… I’m about to nut in my underwear.”

“Sorry.. I…”

“Don’t be sorry,” I said, my voice rough. “That was… fucking intense.”

I smirked, despite the soreness. “I loved that dominance… I just… didn’t expect this from ye.. honestly… I’m still hard as a rock.” I shifted slightly, feeling the uncomfortable pressure of my erection against the desk leg.

He let out a breath that sounded like a mix of relief and amusement. “I’ve… never done that before.”

“WHAT????”

He glanced at the locked door, then back at me. “Yeah…I-I’ve always… fantasized about you..”

“Fuckk…. Damn…. You’re really good at using a throat for someone who supposedly never did that before.”

“I never thought… Fuck…. I’d actually do this with ye”

I stood, stretching my sore limbs, feeling the ache in my muscles and the lingering heat in my groin. “Well, you did,” I said, stepping closer. “And I’m not complaining.. So… take it easy.”

He looked up at me, his eyes dark with a mix of lust and something softer... maybe gratitude, maybe a newfound connection. Without a word, he reached out, his hand finding the front of my pants. His fingers brushed the bulge, eliciting a sharp gasp from me.

Fuck, I thought, his touch sending sparks through me. He’s actually going to…

He unzipped my fly with deliberate slowness, his fingertips grazing the elastic of my underwear as he pulled them down. My cock sprang free, already slick with precum, the head flushed and throbbing. He stared at it for a moment, his gaze intense, then leaned in, his breath hot against my skin.

I moaned as his tongue flicked out, tracing a slow line from the base to the tip. The sensation was electric, sending shivers up my spine. He wrapped his lips around the head, sucking gently, his cheeks hollowing as he drew me in. I could feel his tongue swirling around the ridge, teasing the sensitive underside, each motion deliberate and expert.

“Oh fuck… Ugghhh… fuckkk….yes,” I gasped, my hands gripping the edge of the desk for support. His mouth moved lower, taking more of my length, his throat working around me as he began to bob his head. The sight of him... quiet, usually reserved Mark... now on his knees, mouth stretched around my cock, was incredibly erotic.

He groaned around me, the vibration sending pleasant ripples through my shaft. I could feel his hands gripping my hips, holding me steady as he set a rhythm, each descent deeper than the last. My cock slid past his lips, hitting the back of his throat, and I heard him gag softly, but he didn’t pull back. Instead, he relaxed, letting me fill him completely.

He’s taking it all… Fuckkk…. He is taking it all…. He’s really going deep.

I started to thrust gently, matching his pace, feeling the wet heat of his mouth envelop me. His moans were muffled, but I could hear them... low, needy sounds that vibrated against my cock. The office was silent except for our breathing, the wet sounds of suction, and the occasional creak of the desk as we moved.

“Shit, Mark…fuckkkk…. your mouth feels fucking incredible… gonna come if you keep that up…”

I could feel my orgasm building, a tight coil low in my belly that threatened to snap at any moment. My balls tightened, and I could feel the familiar pressure rising, the need to release growing urgent.

“Mark… I’m gonna…” I warned, my voice hoarse.

He doubled down, sucking harder, swallowing around the head every time it pushed into his throat. That did it. My balls drew up tight and cock twitched inside his mouth so hard.

With a choked cry, I came so hard, hot jets of cum flooding his mouth. He gasped, but didn’t pull back, swallowing greedily as I pulsed. Each spurt was thick and warm, filling his mouth, and I could feel his throat working to keep up, his cheeks hollowing as he drew me in.

“Fuck… yes…fuckkkk… ugggghhhh” I moaned, my body trembling as the waves of pleasure washed over me. My hips jerked involuntarily, driving myself deeper into his mouth with each pulse. He held me steady, his hands firm on my hips, letting me ride out my orgasm.

He swallowed every pulse of my hot cum, humming like he liked the taste, milking me with his tongue until I was oversensitive and twitching.

When the last spurt faded, he slowly withdrew, my cock slipping from his lips with a wet pop. A strand of cum clung to his chin, glistening in the low light. He looked up at me, his eyes bright, his lips swollen from the effort.

I was breathing hard, my chest heaving, my cock still throbbing, though the urgent need had eased. I leaned back against the desk, trying to catch my breath, my mind swirling with the intensity of what had just happened.

Mark sat back on his heels, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, a small, satisfied smile playing on his lips. “Wow,” he whispered, voice rough. “That was… incredible.”

I let out a shaky laugh, still feeling the aftershocks. “Yeah,” I replied, my voice hoarse. “You are so good…. at this. You are damn…. Full of surprises.”

He chuckled softly, the sound low and warm. “I guess I’ve been holding back a lot.”

I stood, adjusting my clothes, feeling the damp spot on my underwear where my precum had leaked. “We should… maybe clean up?” I suggested, glancing at the desk, which was now a mess of saliva, cum, and our combined sweat.

He nodded, standing as well, and we both moved to the small sink in the corner of the cubicle. He turned on the faucet, the water sputtering to life, and we washed our hands, the cold water shocking against our heated skin. I caught my reflection in the mirror above the sink... my hair disheveled, my lips slightly swollen, my eyes still glazed with lust.

What just happened? I thought, staring at myself. I never imagined… The thought was both thrilling and a little terrifying. I had always been the quiet observer, the one who kept to himself, never daring to act on the fantasies that flickered in the back of my mind. And now, here I was, throat fucked and cum swallowed, my body still humming with the echo of our encounter.

Mark dried his hands with a paper towel, tossing it into the trash. He glanced at me, his expression softening. “Thanks,” he said quietly. “For… not freaking out and not punching me.”

“Anytime. Seriously.” I adjusted my pants, still half-hard just from looking at him. “You wanna do this again sometime?”

“Really??? Y-You… you wanna do this again?” he asked, his voice tentative but hopeful.

"Yeah... definitely"

He smiled....real smile this time, the kind I’d never seen on him during work hours. “Thanks.... Maybe next time I’ll ask first instead of just… attacking you.”

“Deal.... But don’t act like the attacking wasn’t hot as fuck.”

"That's so fuckin hot"

We grabbed our things and headed for the elevator, neither of us saying much. It felt strange walking through the empty office after everything that had just happened, like we'd both agreed to keep it between us. But it wasn't awkward.

I glanced at Mark and caught him smiling.

I couldn't help smiling back.

As the elevator doors opened

Well.... staying late doesn't seem so bad anymore.

 
---

💦🥴

Author’s note: All my characters are consenting adults (18+). All sexual acts depicted are consensual between the adult characters.

Chapter 1

Brock was already on the bench when I walked in, racking two-twenty like it was nothing. Black compression shirt soaked through between the shoulder blades, grey shorts hanging low on his hips, white crew socks pushed down around his ankles. The same look he always had at the gym — focused, a little bored, completely unaware of how many people watched him.
I dropped my bag and started warming up next to him.

“You’re late, bro.” he said without looking at me.

“Five minutes.”

“Still late.” He repped out another set, breath controlled, veins standing out on his forearms. When he sat up he dragged the bottom of his shirt across his face, flashing the thick dark hair on his stomach. “Spot me on incline.”

We fell into the usual rhythm. He lifted heavy. I kept up as best I could. Between sets he talked the way he always did — loud enough for half the floor to hear.

“See the redhead on the cables? Ass like that shouldn’t be legal. I would fuck her doggie against a dumpster.” He chalked his hands and glanced over my shoulder. “And the blonde by the squat rack. You see the way she looks at me when I walk past? Straight up thirsty. I would facefuck her until she’s gagging.”

I nodded and loaded another plate. Brock never asked if I was looking at the girls. He just assumed I was, or didn’t care that I wasn’t. He’d known I was gay for three years and still talked like this every single session. Sometimes I thought he did it on purpose.

By the time we finished legs my shirt was stuck to my back and Brock’s was completely transparent. He peeled it off the second we hit the locker room and threw it into his open bag. The smell hit me immediately, strong sweat, deodorant that had given up an hour ago, that thick male musk that only comes from a full hard session. His chest was still heaving. Dark hair ran from his pecs down the middle of his stomach and disappeared under the waistband of his shorts.
He grabbed his towel and phone.

“Gotta piss. Don’t let anyone steal my shit.”

The second the bathroom door swung shut I moved.
His bag was half-open. The black compression shorts he’d worn under the grey ones were right on top, still warm, damp in the pouch. My heart was already hammering. I glanced at the door, then reached in and pulled them out.

The crotch was soaked.
I brought them to my face and inhaled like a fucking addict.

Sweat. Musk. The sharp, salty scent of his cock and balls after ninety minutes of heavy lifting. My own dick went from soft to fully hard so fast it hurt. I pressed the wet fabric against my nose and mouth and breathed deeper, eyes half-closing. I could smell the exact place where the head of his cock had rested against the material. I was so hard it felt obscene.

I never heard him come back.
The door opened. Brock stopped mid-step.
For a second neither of us moved. He just stood there in his towel, staring at me on the bench with his used compression shorts crushed against my face.
His expression went from confusion to pure disgust in about two seconds.

“What the fuck are you doing, Adrian?”

I dropped them like they burned. “I—”

“Are you sniffing my fucking clothes?”

His voice wasn’t loud. It was worse. Cold. Disbelieving.
I opened my mouth. Nothing came out.
Brock stepped forward, snatched the shorts out of my lap and held them up between two fingers like they were contaminated.

“You nasty little faggot.” He laughed once, short and mean. “I leave for two minutes and you’re huffing my sweaty shit like a creep. What the fuck is wrong with you?”

My face was on fire. I couldn’t look at him.
He threw the shorts at my chest.

“Put them back. And keep your fucking hands off my stuff.”

I shoved them into his bag with shaking hands. Brock didn’t stop staring. Without showering he dried off his sweat slowly, pulled on clean black boxers and jeans, all while shaking his head like he couldn’t believe what he’d just seen.

“Three years I’ve known you’re gay,” he muttered. “Three years and I still find out new ways you’re a fucking pervert.”

He didn’t speak to me while we finished changing. He didn’t speak when we walked out to the parking lot. He just unlocked his truck, got in, and waited for me to climb into the passenger seat like always.
The second the doors closed he started.

“You actually get hard sniffing your best friend’s shorts? That’s where you’re at?”

I stared straight ahead. “I’m sorry.”

“Sorry.” He laughed again and pulled out of the lot. “You’re sorry you got caught. Not sorry you did it.”

The rest of the drive was a slow, steady verbal beating. He kept his eyes on the road and his voice casual, like he was discussing the weather.

“I bet you jack off thinking about me, don’t you? Bet you’ve been sniffing my shit for months. Gym bag. Laundry. Fuck, do you go through my hamper when you come over?”

“No.”

“Liar. Look at you. Can’t even deny it properly.” He glanced sideways. “You’re hard right now, aren’t you? Sitting in my truck with a boner because I yelled at you. Because I smell like a real man.”

I didn’t answer. That was answer enough. I was obsessed with him.
Brock shook his head and turned up the music. We didn’t speak again until he pulled into my driveway.
He killed the engine and sat there for a moment, one wrist resting on the steering wheel.

“Inside,” he said. “You’re gonna make this right.”

My house felt smaller with him in it. Brock dropped onto the couch like he owned it, kicked his sneakers off, and spread his legs. His white crew socks were damp and grey along the soles.

“Beer,” he ordered. “And don’t take all day.”

I brought him a cold one. He took it without saying thank you, cracked it open, and drank half in one go. Then he looked down at his feet.

“Socks are rank after leg day. Get down there and deal with it.”

I stared at him.
Brock raised an eyebrow.

“You heard me. You wanted to smell my shit so bad in the locker room. Here’s your chance. On your knees.”

My face burned, but my cock was already throbbing again. I dropped to the floor between his spread knees. I dreamed about this since we were horny teenagers. Brock leaned back, one arm along the back of the couch, and watched me with open contempt.

“Smell them first,” he said. “Properly. Like you did with my shorts.”

I leaned in. The scent hit me hard — hot feet, sweat, rubber from his sneakers, that thick animal smell that only comes after a heavy work out session. I pressed my nose against the arch of his left foot and inhaled. Brock laughed under his breath.

“Fucking pathetic. Look at you. Straight-up addicted to another man’s stink. And I’m your bro since we’re kids.”

He lifted his foot and pressed the sole against my face, grinding slowly.

“Lick.”

I dragged my tongue from the heel all the way up to his toes. The taste was salty, slightly bitter, pure Brock. He made a low sound of disgust mixed with amusement and shoved his foot harder against my mouth.

“Both of them. Don’t stop until I say.”

I worked over his socks with my tongue while he drank his beer and scrolled on his phone like I was barely worth watching. Every so often he’d mutter something.

“Nasty little cocksucker. This is what you actually want, isn’t it?”

“Yes.” I replied sniffing him like a junkie needing a dose.

“Sniffing my shit in public. Fucking embarrassing.”

When the first sock was dark with my spit he made me peel it off with my teeth. The bare foot underneath was even stronger. I licked between his toes while he flexed them against my tongue. Brock reached down, grabbed a handful of my hair, and held my face against his sole.

“Breathe it in. That’s what a real man smells like after he actually works out. Not like whatever weak shit you do.”

He made me spend a long time on his feet. When he finally got bored he shoved me back by the forehead and spat. The warm spit landed across my cheek and lips.

“Wipe that off with your tongue. No hands.”

I did.
Brock watched me clean his spit off my own face and shook his head again, almost impressed by how low I was willing to go.

“You’re actually into this,” he said. “Getting treated like garbage by your straight friend. That’s the shit that gets you hard.”

He finished the beer, set the empty bottle on the table, and spread his legs wider.

“Another one. And this time stay on your knees when you bring it.”

I crawled to the kitchen, grabbed a second beer, and crawled back. Brock took it, cracked it, and then rested both bare feet on my shoulders like I was a piece of furniture.

“You’re gonna stay down there for a while,” he said calmly. “I had a long workout. My feet are tired. You’re going to keep them company while I relax.”

He turned the TV on and started scrolling through sports channels, one hand occasionally dropping down to adjust his hard cock through his jeans. Every few minutes he’d press a foot against my face again or make me kiss the arch, the toes, the damp heel. Sometimes he spat. Sometimes he just laughed when I got too into it.
The whole time his voice stayed lazy and mean. I was dizzy with desire.

“My little best friend is a faggot. Sniffing used underwear like a bitch in heat. “You’re lucky I don’t post about this shit. Your boyfriend would love to know what you do in the gym with me.”

I stayed on my knees on my own living-room floor, face buried against my straight friend’s sweaty feet, while he drank beer and watched television and treated me exactly like the thing he’d called me in the locker room.

And the worst part — the part that made my cock leak steadily into my shorts — was that I didn’t want him to stop.
Not even a little. I need more and more. Finally Brock discovered how much I wanted him.

All persons are 18+ and fully consenting.

My 2 older brothers have this really good friend, for privacy, we’ll say his name is Sam. He is Puerto Rican, skinny and fit, very hairy.

Being that he is my brothers best friend, I’ve never thought of him that way. That is until Spring Break a few years ago.

He was at our house very late at night and decided to sleep over. My brothers room had a twin bed and a queen mattress for guests. My oldest brother slept in his bed and his best friend slept between me and my other brother on the mattress.

In the middle of the night, I wake up and feel something poking my back. I go to feel and notice it’s Sam’s hard dick pressing against me. I lay on my back to get a better look and it was huge. I would later go to learn it was 8 inches.

I touched it once, but didn’t think it was the best idea to continue to do so. I went to the bathroom, jerked off and came back to bed.

My back is toward him again and I again feel him poking my back, but when I go to move, I see it’s not through his pants. His dick is out.

I turn over to see if he’s awake and he just grabs my hand and places it on his dick. I naturally start to jerk him off. We here movement and stop abruptly.

We fall back asleep and when I wake up again, it’s only me and him left. He sees we’re alone and invited me to play with his dick again.

We jerk each other off until we cum. He shoots a huge load all across my chest and face.

This was just the start of many years of playing with each other.

I have more experiences I can share. Let me know if you want to hear more.