The following story is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to real people is entirely coincidental. If male-to-male sexual scenes offend you, then you should not read this story. Additionally, if you are under 18 years old, the laws in most areas state that you're just too young to read filth like this.
Stray strayf.hanlen@gmail.com
The alarm sounded at 0515.
Sleepily, I reached across the bedside table and smacked the reset button.
Slowly, the fuzz of sleep left me and I realised - fuck! It's Tuesday!
Tuesday was the day Mr Radisch had an 0800 lecture, so he had to be in the gym by 0615 which meant . . . but you don't need to know my timetable - that's my job!
Anyway, I leapt, naked - as usual - out of bed, ran up the stairs from my basement to the second floor and quietly let myself into Mr Radisch's room.
He was still asleep, lying on his back with his legs spread wider than the single dorm bed would allow. Both arms were wrapped around the back of his head, releasing the heavy odour of man-funk from his dank, lush pits.
However, my specific orders didn't allow me worship his stinking pits at this time so I gently eased myself under the thin sheet that partially covered Mr Radisch's jock bod.
I worked my way between his joyously ripe thighs, gave his heavy, stinkin' balls a light, illicit, swipe with my tongue - enough to make my tastebuds tingle - and focussed my attention on my first official task of the day.
Slowly, gently, I eased my lips over the skinned head of Mr Radisch's dick. I inserted my tongue under his skin and gently scooped out the build-up of rank cock-cheese.
He moved; groaned; stretched.
"Fuckin' bitch . . ." he murmured, arching his back and flexing his entire body. He rose up on his elbows, his feet flat to the bed, working every muscle in body. I followed his movements but kept my lips clamped around his dick-head. Those were my orders.
He collapsed back on the bed, breathed deeply . . . I was ready . . . He sighed from the depths of his soul - and pissed down my slut throat. A strong, steady gush of rank man-piss. He used my throat as would use any toilet; relaxed his bladder and let rip!
I swallowed every drop.
Such was my job.
As the flow stopped, Mr Radisch growled from the back of his throat and said, "Fuck . . . I'm horny . . . "
I knew what I had to do, but I was still aware of the time constraints! Mr Radisch had to cum - but he had to cum fast! This was no time for Tantric sex, no time to consult the Khama Sutra! I wrapped my tongue around his fat shaft and sucked his entire length down my throat; lubed my throat with my own phlegm, created a vacuum and pumped for all I was worth!
"Fuck," he moaned. "Shshshiiit! Fuckin bitch! Yeah! Suck my dick! Suck it! Suck it! Fuuuuuck!"
Mr Radisch has one of those long, slender dicks with a fat, juicy head. When he cums, that fat head swells - and that's what it does when it's lodged down my throat, spewing its glorious manseed right down my undeserving gullet . . .
He kept his hand clamped to the back of my head, forcing me to keep swallowing his dick. The huge knot of his swelled head gradually deflated and allowed me to breathe.
"All right," muttered Mr Radisch, "fuck off."
I eased his mighty dick out of my slut throat and backed away from his bed, stealing a glance at his bedside clock.
O533 - I was in shit already! The extra time it meant for me to blow Mr Radisch meant that I was late for Mr Booth.
I gently shut Mr Radisch's door and padded down the hall to 206 - Mr Booth's room. I knocked sharply on his door - as he had requested - turned around there in the hallway and got down on my hands and knees with my bare ass facing the door and waited.
Mr Burns came out of 205, naked except for the towel over his shoulder, laughed at me, then carried on to the shower room.
Mr McCallion came out of 208, dressed only in boxer shorts, strode over to me, hefted his fat dick out and pissed all over me.
"Better clean that up before Booth gets here, shit-head."
He hawked up a gob of snot and spat it out on the top of my head.
"Well?!" he demanded.
"Thank you, Mr McCallion, Sir." I replied, and started to lap up Mr McCallion's astringent piss from the floor of the corridor.
"I'll need you soon, shit-head," barked Mr McCallion as he continued on to the shower room..
I was still licking up Mr McCallion's piss when I heard the door to 206 open.
"'Bout fuckin' time . . ." murmured Mr Booth. "Gimme yer arse, fucker!"
I scrambled back 'round - still on my hands and knees - and presented my arse to Mr Booth.
Still groggy from sleep, he fell forward and instinctively rammed his dick up my welcoming arse.
"No time to play, today, fucker . .. ." he grunted, "I need t'piss . . You want it, fucker?"
My hole was burning with his ragged intrusion . . .but it was what I wanted, needed . . .
"Please, Mr Booth . . . Please piss in my arse, Mr Booth!" I begged.
"Fuckin' fag shit!" he grunted as he emptied his bladder up my arsehole.
I felt it swelling my rectum and groaned in pleasure. Mr Booth finished up and pulled his fat dick from my arse. I clamped shut so as not to allow a single drop of his gift escape from me. With well practised ease I spun around and used my lips, tongue and throat to clean his cock.
"Thank you Mr Booth, sir," I began, "for allowing me to ..."
But Mr Booth just yawned and slammed the door in my face.
I ran down the hallway to the shower room and crawled into the first cubicle where Mr McCallion was soaking his naked body in the flowing hot water. I lay on my back on the shower floor and he placed his left foot on my face to allow me to clean his foot with my tongue and lips. After finishing his right foot I moved up to his crotch, cleaning his cock, balls and his magnificent arse before moving on to his pits.
"Do you have to do Walsh today, shit-head?" he asked.
"Yes, sir," I replied, "sorry, sir."
"Damn," he muttered. "I wanted to fuck that arse of yours, too. You better get going then."
Thanking Mr McCallion profusely, I slipped out of the shower room and, trying to rid myself of as much water as possible, ran down to room 202, knocked on the door and let myself in.
Mr Walsh was sitting at his desk, completely naked working on last-minute adjustments to an assignment.
"About fucking time," he grunted, not even bothering to look up. "Come on."
He eased himself out of his chair, stretched his tall, lean, muscular stud body and threw himself down on his back on the bed, drawing his knees up to his chest and exposing his glorious black-tufted arse hole. Salivating with desire, I got onto my knees and plunged my face into his heavenly, sweat-soggy canyon.
"No need for that," he barked. "You took so long to get here I lubed myself, so get cracking."
I stood up again, aligned my cockhead with his hole and plunged in.
"Aaw, fuck yeah!" he groaned. "I've had an itch up there all night. No need to be polite, boy - pound my fucking manhole!"
I set a furious pace, long-dicking his hole with rabbit-fast punches just the way Mr Walsh like it. As I pounded into him he stroked his cock and worked his fat nipples until, groaning loudly, he exploded in a fury of cum all over his chest. I eased out of him, licked his cum from his chest and left the room, leaving him panting but satisfied on his bed.
I then tore down the hall to Mr Bennet's room for his early-morning blowjob. After that Mr Fearnley needed his first fuck of the day. Mr Stephens didn't have a class until 1100 so I had an hour with him this morning - and I knew that his new paddle had arrived in the post yesterday. I then had time to make beds and do some laundry before Mr Mahal came back at lunchtime ...
Tuesday's were always busy ...
Copyright 2009 - Stray Strayf.hanlen@gmail.com All rights reserved Permission is NOT granted to publish this story in any medium without the author's prior consent.