BBC on Campus

My usual disclaimers:

• My experiences are in everything I write, sometimes an image that I recall, sometimes much more. This story, however, is fiction. Any resemblance to actual events or persons, living or dead, is coincidental.

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• This story depicts unprotected sex. In real-life, be safe!

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BBC ON CAMPUS

CHAPTER ELEVEN – THANKSGIVING CHERRY

The intoxicating whiff of domination I got from fucking Akili Brooks nonstop for a night gradually dissipated, overtaken by the reality of life at Westcliffe. I was in my teaching position, slogging away on my thesis, and living above half a dozen college rock climbers. As incredible as the experience with Akili had been, my sex life wasn't routinely going to be like that. But the challenge of fucking all six of my quasi-roommates, the sophomore rock jocks that lived in the refurbished gas station below my apartment, was proving more intriguing that I had assumed at the beginning of the semester. Men like Akili were my type, but conquering the rock climbers was arousing my juices.

Having dicked four of the rock climbers by the middle of November, I concentrated on the remaining two guys, working out how to get in their pants. They were an odd pair. Max had short, spiked blond hair, and his rawboned body verged on being gaunt. Damian's brown hair fell to the middle of his back in tight curls. He was cute, a little androgynous, and unless he was shirtless you had to look closely to detect he was a guy. Nobody mistook Max for a girl, with or without clothes. I normally wouldn't have given either of them a second look. But in boxer shorts, as the rock boys usually were in the gas station, their bare torsos looked damn sexy. The hours of climbing cliffs and rocks around campus had done wonders for all of the rock jocks' hot bodies.

I stayed in town over Thanksgiving break to get some work done on my thesis. Professor Wang invited me to his house for Thanksgiving dinner, and as I left the gas station I was surprised to see Damian still there. He apparently was the only rock boy that hadn't split for the holiday. I didn't pry into whether Damian opted to stay on campus because of finances, trouble on the home front or some other reason. He didn't look happy.

Thanksgiving dinner at Wang's house was a pleasant surprise. He invited an eclectic group of people, including Kent and his wife, who I had never met. She was a petite, pretty woman and she and Kent were obviously very happy together. They brought Junior, who was the focus of attention until Kent put him down for a late afternoon nap. I wondered if Junior recognized me. Just as he was in my office when I turned Kent into a fuck toy, Junior was enamored with me, or maybe my dreadlocks, to the point that Kent's wife joked that they should get me to babysit.

Over the course of dinner, I caught Kent giving me a few lingering glances. It had been over three weeks since I had plowed his ass, and it was apparent to me his man pussy was itching for my stiff cock. I could easily have arranged a quick fuck if I wanted. But rules were rules and it wouldn't be the first Wednesday of the month for another six days. The hot prof would have to wait for his fix of my big black cock.

More intriguing was Toshi, a tall, lanky Japanese man from Southern California. He was in town to discuss a research project with one of Westcliffe's professors, and Wang had invited him for Thanksgiving because his last meeting on Wednesday had been late enough that he couldn't get a flight back to LA.

Toshi was one of the myriad of Asian men that look 25 but could be 20 or 40. At times over the course of dinner I thought he was 20, particularly when I focused on his smooth, lean body. Twenty was too young to warrant my attention, although drawing that line didn't make much sense given my quixotic quest to fuck six rock climbers that were 20 at best. Toshi looked young because, like most Asians, he had smooth tight skin and almost no body hair. His face looked like he barely shaved. But at other times during dinner, Toshi's eyes made him look 40, even 45, considerably more interesting to me.

Toshi was charming and eloquent and manifested the sort of confident command that I found interesting in a man. I was also convinced he was curious about bedding a tall, light skinned black man with long dreadlocks. Unfortunately, I wasn't able to explore the possibilities because Toshi was returning to LA after dinner. Nevertheless, I offered to drive him to the airport. As we arrived, Toshi thanked me for the ride and casually mentioned he would be back at Westcliffe for a couple of nights just before Christmas. It was hardly an invitation for a date, but it left me wondering.

When I got back to the gas station from the airport, Damian was exactly where he had been when I left - slumped on the couch and flipping channels. I felt sorry for the kid but recognized an opportunity. Being alone with him from Thursday until Sunday might be the best opening I would have. If I was going to get into Damian's pants, it was now or never. But I bided my time for a couple of days.

By Saturday, I targeted Damian as being as ripe for picking as he was going to be. After a wet day on Thanksgiving, the weather cleared on Friday and Saturday, and Damian spent both days climbing the cliffs outside the gas station, mixed in with occasional tours around campus on his skateboard. With the campus deserted, it was easier for Damian to ride stair rails and pop tricks off planters and half walls. Damian was amazing on his longboard, and watching him fly across campus with his long, curly brown locks trailing behind him was an awesome spectacle. The negative was that in late November it was cool enough that he wasn't shirtless as he typically was during the fall.

Rock climbing took a physical tool, and climbing solo had its limits, so Damian could shimmy up the rocks and skate across campus only so long. He studied and watched TV Friday night, but with campus deserted, the kid had to be lonely.

Late on Saturday, I was watching Damian finish climbing one of the cliffs outside the gas station and contemplating how to proceed when Dontrell arrived, puffing after tackling the two floors from the gas station to my apartment. "I didn't see the boys downstairs," he said, "any of them here this weekend?"

Dontrell had been a great landlord and I got the feeling he would do almost anything for me. That was partly because Dontrell viewed my presence on his pickup basketball team as making the team almost unbeatable. Dontrell's 22-year-old son, back in town after finishing college, was at least as responsible for the team's dominance. That man could play ball, and was hot, too.

"Damian is still around," I said, pointing to the shirtless climber through the big, west-facing windows in my apartment.

"That's too bad," Dontrell said. "Had an electrical surge that blew out the transformers downstairs and, being a weekend, we can't get a replacement until Monday. No power, no electricity and, with no electricity, no water pump either. Do you suppose you could let Damian use your shower?"

"Sure," I said. "I'll do whatever you need me to."

Dontrell gave me a big smile, "Thanks a ton, bro," he said. "I owe you one." He labored back down the stairs to give the news to Damian.

Damian arrived 45 minutes later, after stowing his climbing gear. He was still shirtless and wearing only his climbing shorts. His muscles, pumped from the strain of the climb and the descent, looked damn good. "Uh, Dontrell told me you said it was okay to use your shower," he said.

"I did tell him that," I said. "But if the power is off downstairs, you might want to clean out the fridge and bring whatever you want to save up here."

"Shit, I didn't think about that," Damian said. He made a couple of trips to retrieve things from the gas station, but with the rock climbers out of town, not much food had been left behind. I started dinner in the meantime, telling Damian he could join me if he wanted. He eagerly accepted.

I got Damian a beer and told him to shower whenever he wanted and make himself comfortable. Thirsty from the climb, Damian guzzled the beer while watching a college football game on TV. I replaced his beer with a second. He had downed a third beer by the time the game ended and he got into the shower.

My apartment was just one big, open room. It had housed the locker room for the old gas station, back from the days when men would spend the day under a DeSoto or Studebaker and then shower before heading home. My apartment still housed two porcelain urinals that went all the way to the floor and an industrial shower with three heads. The toilet and the shower weren't separated by walls. Actually, the place didn't have interior walls, just massive brick walls on the exterior, broken by the huge windows that had attracted me in the first place.

Damian wasn't shy about stripping off his shorts and showering in front of me. His muscular climber's body looked damn sexy with water trickling off it and his long, wet hair hanging down his back. The rock jocks were built. Damian was like the rest of them – lean with little or no body fat and ripped muscles. As nice as taking in his torso was, my goal was something else. Damian's bubble butt was inviting, and I focused on it like a laser when he bent over and his ass cheeks flexed.

I noticed Damian's cock plumping a bit as he washed it. The explanation was easy. With the college kids leaving early for Thanksgiving break, it had to have been close to a week since Damian had gotten laid. Regrettably, I shared the same problem.

The meal was a stir fry, and the heat from the range, coupled with steam from what turned out to be a long shower, made the room hot. I was used to it, given the solar heat that radiated through the gas station when it was sunny outside. I intentionally didn't turn on the air conditioner or the big overhead fan Dontrell had installed. Instead, I stripped down to my basketball shorts and tied my dreadlocks in a ponytail.

Damian finished his shower and wrapped his towel around his waist. He hadn't brought a change of clothes, and commented about needing to go downstairs and get something to wear. But with a buzz from the beer and a college football game on TV going into overtime, he made no immediate move to make the trip. I got him yet another beer. The game went into four overtimes and dinner was ready by the time it was over. Damian sat down to eat, drunk and still wearing nothing but a towel.

Despite Damian's state, I opened a bottle of wine. After dinner we watched more football and eventually killed the whole bottle. I was tipsy, so Damian had to be totally trashed. Sure enough, as I started to clean up, Damian offered to help, but he staggered as he got to his feet. I put him to work washing dishes, figuring the sink would stabilize him.

Damian looked hot. His long, curly brown hair cascaded down his back in between broad, muscular shoulders, awesome triceps and tight trapezius muscles. He had a column of four Asian symbols tattooed in a vertical line on his right shoulder. His torso tapered to a narrow waist and a faint tan line, marking the start of a nice set of lily white buns. Actually Damian, like many college boys, wore his pants and shorts so low that the tan line was well below the top of his crack. Fueled by too much wine, perhaps fueled by being hornier than hell, I concluded the kid had an awesome set of buns and I shouldn't have waited until now to get a close up look. Damian didn't know it yet, but my big black cock was on schedule to invade those buns.

I had drained my balls into Travis's tight ass on Monday, but that was five days ago and my cock was in serious need of attention. Travis, the rock climbers' resident party boy, had celebrated the end of classes by getting drunk and stoned. For Travis, that combination led inevitably to a desperate desire to get his rocks off. But with his girlfriend de jour and most of the college's coeds leaving town, Travis's plan B was snorting poppers while getting his ass pummeled by a stiff cock. And Travis's preferred cock to send him into his private nirvana was my big black python. When I got home that night, Travis stared stupidly at my crotch. I knew the signs of the straight rock boy with the ripped body that nevertheless loved a cock shoved up his ass when he smoked dope. I sent Travis on his Thanksgiving vacation with two loads of black ball juice in his pussy.

"You making progress with the ladies?" I asked as we got close to finishing the dishes. It was time to get Damian horny and thinking about sex, not that getting a 19-year-old horny and thinking about sex was difficult.

"I've been going out with a sorority girl," Damian replied slowly, slurring his words. "She's pretty hot. I don't like the sorority scene, though. Her sisters are like, everywhere. You get two or three of `em together and it's talk central."

"Yeah, that's one reason I don't deal with the ladies," I said. Damian betrayed a hint of surprise. "A guy won't talk your head off," I added. Time to get man sex on the long haired twink's radar.

Damian didn't respond immediately, digesting what I said, so I asked, "Where you dicking your girl? I never see her around."

"Well, uh, we haven't actually, uh... had sex," Damian replied, frowning as if he just now realized that he hadn't gotten laid and worse yet, he had conceded it to me. He was embarrassed. College guys weren't eager to admit that they weren't having sex. Each guy assumed he got a lot less sex than every guy around him, although mathematically that wasn't possible.

I poured it on, expressing surprise that Damian wasn't getting it. "What the fuck, dude?" I asked. "The only reason to put up with a sorority bitch is to get pussy. So you can cram your rod inside the cunt and fuck her until she's screaming for more. Every sorority whore puts out. Those sluts talk to each other constantly and compare notes, and they think guys don't like them if the guys don't have their hands all over em and aren't trying to fuck em every chance they get. Your girlfriend is probably wondering what's wrong with you."

Damian was taken aback by my broadside, but also hypnotized by the visual I had painted of getting sorority ass. Trying to recover, he offered a lame excuse, saying, "We've only been going out, uh, since the first of October."

"Two fucking months and you haven't gotten laid?" I exclaimed. "Damn, boy! Does she at least give good head?" I suspected that I knew the answer, but I wanted to pound on Damian to get him softened up. Damian may not have noticed me calling him boy, but from now on I would subtly change how he viewed himself. He had gone from a dude to a boy. Next stop was pussy boi.

"Uhh, well, she hasn't... um, we haven't gotten that far, either," Damian mumbled. In his drunken stupor, he was perplexed. He frowned, wondering how he had gotten into this conversation.

I stopped what I was doing and shook my head like I couldn't believe what I was hearing. "Boy... I don't know what to say. That's probably you I hear downstairs whacking off all the time." Damian's face reddened. "I don't take that shit. With me, bitch knows that if she doesn't put out on the first date – second under unusual circumstances – there ain't gonna be another date. Guy's don't get that much leeway. I buy em a drink or make em dinner, and they know they are giving it up in return. Ya gotta lay down the ground rules up front." I hoped my reference to making dinner didn't go unnoticed, to say nothing of the trash can of empty beer bottles. It was time to make my white pussy boi realize he owed me.

"You fuck guys?" Damian blurted out. I had implied exactly that a few moments earlier, but Damian was drunk and was slow putting the pieces together. His question confirmed that the other four rock boys I fucked hadn't talked about it, at least with Damian. That was understandable with Sancho and Alex and maybe Travis. Jesse was out and proud, but I guess the dance boy didn't advertise how much of a whore he was for my cock.

"Hell, yeah!" I exclaimed. "I don't buy the idea that people are gay or straight. Sex is sex. One person's naked body feels a lot like the next person's. In the end, an asshole, a vagina and a mouth are all holes made to take a stiff cock. I fucked my first woman when I was 14, but they carry too much baggage. Talking all the time. Ya gotta do a lot of entertaining to get `em in the sack. Perfume makes we want to barf. And women are always bitching about my dick being too big for their cunts. Guys probably think that my dick is too big for their assholes, too, but they just suck it up and take it. With a guy you get straight to the main event. Wham, bam, thanks, see ya later."

While I started fucking women when I was 14, I didn't tell Damian that I stopped the same year. I did it mostly to experience what the other kids were so wildly enamored with, and to confirm that it wasn't for me. After sleeping with three women – actually a girl in my class at school and two older women – I had as many experiences with vaginas as I needed or wanted. Shortly after my last venture into a woman's cunt, I took my first trip into a man's ass, and I never looked back.

"I didn't know," Damian said. I could tell his head was spinning, both from the beer and wine and from the implications of everything I had said. As he finished the last dish, I moved behind him, pulling his towel off in a quick motion. I shoved one hand inside the tight crack I was soon going to enjoy, grabbing his junk with my other hand and squeezing it.

"Fuck, dude!" Damian said. Concentrating on my hand, which was slowly stroking his cock, he didn't notice my finger corkscrewing into his hole, still damp from sitting on a wet towel all night. "Damn, that feels good," he moaned. "Oh, shit." Was it his cock that felt good, his asshole, or both? I relished the ambiguity.

I opened some lube from a nearby drawer, smearing my cock and poking a generous amount in Damian's hole, but in order to open the lube, I had to take my hand off Damian's cock. "Don't stop!" he begged. As I grabbed his cock again, he gasped and moaned, "Oh, God, yes!" I circled his hole with a lubed finger, slipping inside his boi cunt and massaging his puffy prostate.

The straight rock jock, drunk and focused solely on his swollen cock, was primed. The gray wolf was about to strike. I bent down to position my cock against Damian's hole, and with a quick shove, I got the head of my black fuck rod inside him, at the same time that I squeezed Damian's rigid tool and pumped it furiously.

"Oh, God!" Damian exclaimed, his big hands gripping the side of the sink. "Keep doing that!" Damian was staring at my hand on his cock with a dazed expression, and I wondered if he even knew my black piston had started its journey into the dark regions of his asshole.

No longer needing my fingers to loosen Damian's hole, I grabbed his balls and began to massage them. Damian gasped again, taking a big, deep breath of air. I continued to pump his cock and slid farther into him at the same time. Damian exclaimed, "Fuck!" and gasped. I knew I had him where I wanted him.

I had to be careful not to push Damian too far or too fast, so I resisted the urge to ram my cock into his tight ass and ride the fucker like a cheap tramp. Instead I gradually worked my dick all the way inside him, my black pole disappearing into his white crack. Damian didn't react, breathing in short gasps, his slender thighs pressed against the sink and my hand wrapped around his slippery cock.

Once I hit bottom, I pulled out gradually and then slowly powered back inside Damian's ass. The fucker was tight as hell. He grimaced and groaned the entire time, but the kid took it. My big black cock was buried in his tight white asshole and Damian's cherry had been relegated to a thing of the past.

I began to ride Damian faster, giving attention to his cock and nuts but taking care not to get him too close. For a straight boy, there is nothing worse than getting fucked after you've blown a load and spewed your baby makers.

Damn, Damian's tight ass felt incredible, wrapped around my cock as I plowed him. Damian was going to have one tough time walking tomorrow, but tonight he was going to find out what it was like to be impaled on a big black cock. To be a black man's bitch.

The sink was not proving to be a great place to fuck Damian, so, keeping my cock buried in his ass, I picked him up and moved a couple of steps to the big table that served as a countertop for my makeshift kitchen. I put Damian's chest flat on the table and positioned his ass just right so I could ride the fucker for all I was worth. He might never take another dick in his ass, but this was one Saturday night that Damian wouldn't soon forget.

I kept one hand clamped on Damian's dick, using it to jerk his ass backwards as I plunged into him, splitting his guts with my hard tool. I grabbed a handful of Damian's long, curly hair, using that as leverage, too. Between his cock and his hair, I was in complete control of the fuck toy.

"Oh, fuck," Damian moaned, adding, "I wanna cum, I wanna cum, oh God, I wanna cum!" I knew he was enjoying me fisting his dick, but I couldn't tell if he was enjoying getting his ass drilled or hating it. Or if it even registered that he was whoring for a bull dong. It didn't matter, because I was enjoying watching my black cobra slither into Damian's lily white fuck chute and the feel of his slippery ass around my fuck rod. I inadvertently moved the table a few inches every now and then as I pounded into Damian's ass. It was a good thing nobody was downstairs. It probably sounded like we were rearranging the furniture, an odd late Saturday night activity.

I had to slow down periodically to keep from cumming too soon, but after a good, long fuck I reached the point of no return. With one final plunge into Damian's bubble butt, I nutted. My dick fired time and time again, draining my balls and filling Damian's hole with my spunk. My head was spinning and it was all I could do to keep from collapsing on Damian's back.

When I pulled out, my hand – and the floor beneath the table – was covered with Damian's thick, white cum. I had no idea when the fucker had climaxed, whether it was before I came or at the same time. I thought about making Damian clean his cum off my hand, but I decided I had pushed the straight pussy boi too far already by butt fucking him.

Damian was close to passing out, so I eased him into my bed. In the dark, whether he would make it downstairs to his own bed in one piece was open to question, and in any event, with the water out, the boi would have tackle the stairs again to use the toilet. Plus, the thought crossed my mind that I might sample his ass again.

I worried that Damian would throw up as I lowered him to my bed, but once he was flat on his back he opened his eyes and said, "I came. I fucking came while your cock was fucking my asshole." So much for wondering if it registered with Damian that he had gotten fucked.

"Yeah," I said, wondering if he was going to flip out.

"Don't tell anyone that I came while I was getting my ass fucked," Damian begged. He had a sort of feverish, desperate look on his face. "Please!" he rambled. "You gotta do this for me. Don't tell anybody!" Go figure. The straight boy didn't appear worried about guys knowing he had gotten fucked. Maybe he believed all guys played around in college. He was only worried about guys finding out that he had climaxed, which might suggest – maybe, just maybe – he liked getting his butt fucked.

I wasn't above taking advantage of the crazed college boy. "Yeah," I said, frowning and acting surprised. "Straight guys usually don't even get hard when I'm fucking their asses. But you blew your wad with my dick up your ass."

"Oh, fuck," Damian said. I had confirmed his worst fears by asserting straight guys usually didn't get hard when I fucked them. Damian not only had been hard, he had shot his wad. Never mind that his climax might have been caused by my fist pumping his cock. He looked like he was about to panic. "You can't tell anybody. I'll do anything you want. Anything."

I continued to frown, pretending to ponder Damian's dilemma. "Well... your ass was pretty tight. Felt good."

Damian realized where I was going. To his credit, he didn't hesitate. "Just don't say anything and you can fuck me again."

"Seriously, boy? Whenever I want?" I pressed.

"Yeah," Damian nodded. "Fuck me like a whore. Make me your bitch. Just don't say anything."

"Deal," I said before he could reconsider. Did I really just hear a straight boy tell me to fuck him like a whore and make him my bitch? Who knew?

Damian relaxed, breathing a sigh of relief. "Thanks, dude," he mumbled. "I owe you."

The rock jock looked hot in my bed, his curly brown hair spread on the pillow like a crown and his ripped chest and abs rising slowly. I thought, `why not?' I might as well collect the first installment of what Damian believed he owed me. I rolled him over on his stomach and spread his legs, crawling on top of the white pussy boi and easing my cock inside his wet, sloppy cum hole. The same velvet glove caressed my cock that I had felt a few minutes ago. Asses are so much better to fuck when they are sloppy with cum. I was right at home, my big prick sliding into Damian's used boi pussy.

The second time wasn't great. While I love cum soaked holes, I think Damian may have passed out mid-fuck, and after that his ass was completely relaxed. Took me a long time to nut. I wondered if Damian would remember any of this tomorrow morning.

Damian remembered it all, as it turned out. The next morning, as he struggled out of my bed, he said, "What happened last night... that's just between the two of us, right?"

"Oh, you mean when you shot while I was fucking your ass?" I said. I had been up for a couple of hours, but had seen no reason to disturb Damian's beauty sleep.

His worst fear confirmed, Damian put his hands to his face and said, "Yeah..."

"Boi, I don't talk," I said concisely.

"Thanks, dude," Damian said, sighing and rising to look for his clothes. Only his climbing shorts and a jock strap had accompanied him the night before. "What I said last night, I meant. We're good, right?"

"I keep my promises," I said. "Yeah, we're good."

Within a week, Damian had broken through with his girlfriend. Whether she had just been waiting for him to push her or she was holding out for some unknown reason, Damian fucked her and fucked her good right after Thanksgiving vacation. The broad was wild in bed. She was a moaner, and if she was to be believed, Damian had a cock to die for. Damian's stiff rod had been in my hand for a long time Saturday night, and while it wasn't bad by any means, I thought Damian's girlfriend was exaggerating. No doubt I had seen more stiff cocks that she had.

I somewhat regretted what I had set loose. The bay that Alex and Damian shared became fuck central, the two rock studs taking turns balling their girlfriends virtually every night of the week. Indeed, over the course of the fall, the old gas station had become fuck central. Between Sancho, Alex, Damian and Travis, the odds were good that at least two coeds were getting pumped full of boy juice every night in the gas station. The same tight boy asses that flexed as they pumped cunts had been seeded by my big cock.

Jesse, the lone gay boi among the group, loved my big black cock, but when it wasn't available Jesse had a steady supply of college cock eager to breed his pussy. It was, I had to admit, a fantastic place to house your cock for a night. Max, the mystery boy in the group, remained an enigma, seldom around. The other rock boys took it for granted that he was fucking a hot babe offsite.

Damian never talked about taking my cock up his ass, but he knew and remembered what had happened that night in my room. And he knew I might come calling for his ass at any time.

TO BE CONTINUED...

If something about this chapter or the rest of the story struck a chord, let me know -- I look forward to hearing from readers. Coltonaalto@gmail.com

Chapter Twelve is underway. I'm not a tease, but for those wanting a preview, a character from prior chapters makes a return appearance. Stay tuned.

© Copyright Colton Aalto 2015