Helping Out a Friend

By Bart Marshall

Published on Oct 23, 2001

Gay

I was at my desk doing my homework--or trying to do my homework. I could barely keep my eyes open. Linguistics was boring the hell out of me. But, of course, that comes with the territory, doesn't it? Being a college student at all.

A little bit about me. I am a freshman. I live on campus in a dorm that is mostly freshman and one gender to a floor. My roommate, Mark, is a nice guy. The first month or so of school we really got along great, but now he has a girlfriend who lives in an apartment off campus, so he rarely spends the night in our room.

Other than Mark, I really don't have any friends on the floor. Most of the guys are, well, pigs. They walk around the halls cursing and belching and for some reason can't seem to muster up the energy to flush a toilet in the floor's communal bathroom. But, then again, they haven't caused any major problems or anything. And if they're not especially kind, they haven't been mean at all.

So there I was at my desk, about one in the morning, bored out of my mind, when the door knocked. "Come in," I shouted lazily, but the door didn't open. "Come in," I said again, glancing at the knob to see if I had unintentionally locked the door. It was unlocked. "Come in!" Finally, I got up out of my chair and opened the door.

As the door swung open, I saw Derek. Derek lives across the hall. I don't really know much about him, other than that I have never seen a day go by when he doesn't go into his room with a girl on his arm. Derek had never really said anything to me, nodding his head occasionally as our paths crossed in the hallway, but no substantial conversation.

"Hey, Derek."

"Oh. Hi," he said as if he hadn't noticed me open the door. "Mark in?"

"No. Sorry," I answered, noticing Derek's body. Derek was leaning against the doorframe with one arm. The other arm was at his side, the hand disappearing into the waist of his athletic shorts. I could tell from the extreme bulge that his hand was on his crotch. He was shirtless. What a specimen! His abs were like a solid wall of muscle, not so much defined but indicative of incredible strength. With one arm lifted to support him against the doorframe, I could see clearly a damp bush of underarm hair.

"You awake?" He asked, stirring me from my trance.

"Yeah. Of course. Just studying," I stammered.

"Cool," he said, disinterested.

"It's pretty boring. I was about to take a break."

"Want some company?" he asked, as I was hoping he would.

I couldn't hide the smile on my face. "Sure." Before I could motion for him the enter my room, he walked past me and flopped himself down on the bed. I returned to my chair, turning it to face him. He sat on the bed, slumped down so his legs hung over the edge, spread open in a V, the treasure he had in his shorts creating a large mound. He rested his hands behind his head, exposing both armpits this time, both wet with sweat. I looked him up and down.

"Do me a favor, will ya?" He asked with a slight smile. "I wanna take my shoes off but I'm tired as hell." He stopped there, never actually getting the question, but I knew what he wanted. I felt kinda silly doing it, but I knelt down and began to remove his sneakers. "Socks, too," he added. I felt ridiculous, kneeling before this total stud. But whatever, I was just doing a friend a favor.

As I slid the final sock off, he emitted a quiet groan. I froze, not sure if I should be excited that I had turned him on--he couldn't be gay, not with all those girls and all the stories I'd heard. So I tried to pretend I hadn't heard it. Just two guys hanging out.

"Man, am I tired," he moaned.

"You should go to bed." What a stupid comment.

"I can't," he said.

"You can't?"

"No." He sat up more, leaning over, resting his hands on his thighs. He looked down at me, still sitting on the floor in front of him. "See, I got a problem."

"Problem?"

"Yeah. I... I can't go to sleep without, you know, getting off." His left hand scratched at his balls.

"You should just jerk off, Derek."

"Jerk off!" He smiled. "Why jerk off when you can get some stupid chick to suck on your cock and swallow your cum? I haven't gone to bed without a blow job for forty-six days, man. I can't sleep without it now. I get some girl to suck me off and then I send her home and fall right to sleep like a baby. Except the girl I had with me tonight wouldn't touch it. So I'm in a bit of a bind, huh?" He looked at me, a smirk escaping from his lips.

"What are you gonna do?" My cock was growing in my pants.

"Well... everyone says you're a faggot, Steve." I froze. My expression must have changed because he noticed. "I never thought that, man. But everyone in the hall said, `Steve's a fag. He takes it up the ass.' So I figured, it's worth a try. I'm running out of options. So whaddaya say? Will you suck it or what?"

My eyes darted to his crotch, which he was rubbing through his shorts. He noticed my glancing. "You are such a faggot." He laughed. Suddenly he reached out and I felt his hand on the back of my head. He pulled my head towards him, holding it against his crotch. I could feel his pole through the fabric. "Do you want that cock, fagboy?" I nodded, licking my lips. "Well, get to work. I need to drop my load."

With that, he pulled down his shorts and his boxers, revealing his hard cock. It was about eight inches in length and very thick around. His balls were hairy and big. Slowly I leaned forward, grabbing the shaft, and began to flick my tongue against the head.

"Come on, cocksucker, take the whole thing."

I needed no further instruction. I took a deep breath and began to take Derek's cock into my mouth, until I had swallowed all eight inches of it and my nose was buried in his thick bush of dark hair. The smell was intoxicating. Sweat and urine and pure manliness filled my nostrils. I wrapped my throat around his cock, sliding up and down, still feeling the pressure of his hand on the back of my head.

Suddenly, he gripped my hair, pulling me off his enormous cock, shouting, "Balls. Suck my balls, you faggot."

I immediately adjusted my position so that I had better access to his nutsack. I buried my head between his open legs, taking one testicle into my mouth and rolling it around with my tongue. From my new position, I could smell a different, muskier, dirtier smell. It was as if he hadn't wiped his ass in weeks. I licked under his scrotum, tracing the path to his asshole. Then without warning, he let loose an enormous fart. The sheer volume of his fart shocked me and I tried to pull away. But Derek's grip was strong. He forced my face directly into the line of fire, laughing out loud as he let out a few more, much smaller, farts.

"Smell it, faggot. You're gonna have to breathe. Enjoy it." I inhaled deeply, savoring the smell of his manhood. "You love it, fag. Lick my hole. Go on, lick it." I dragged my tongue across his sweaty butthole, tasting the remnants of shit and sweat. I began slowly tracing the hole but eventually began to lap at it like a slut, darting my tongue in and out of his shithole as he mocked me and cajoled me.

"This is the best head I've had in weeks, you dirty queer. Open wide." And with that he farted once more, loudly and forcefully, the gust of air entering my mouth, puffing out my cheeks. I lapped at his hole even more vigorously. "You love my stink, fairy. My cock. My cock!" I quickly lifted myself and took his cock into my mouth, sliding down on it until it was buried in my throat. I clenched my throat and unclenched it, feeling his tool deep inside me. I felt his balls tighten against my chin. He began to come, filling my throat first and then pulling out until just the head remained in my mouth, which he filled with his seed. I swallowed enthusiastically, out of breath, loving it.

After his orgasm subsided, I began to pull off his cock, but his hands caught me. He laughed. "What's the rush, man? You love that cock. Take your time. Just let it sit there. Yeah. Like that." He stroked my hair gently as I kneeled before him, the head of his softening cock resting on my tongue. He looked at him, concentrating. I stared deep into his eyes.

"You know what the worst part of getting sucked before you go to bed is?" I shook my head back and forth, signaling that I did not know. "Well... after the chick leaves and I've already had her swallow my cum... I gotta pee real bad." I looked up at him. "Yeah." He said, applying pressure to my throat. "But with you, faggot, I don't have to get up and go to the bathroom, do I? You'll drink it down like a good little queer. So enjoy, fag."

I felt the first trickle of urine enter my mouth, acrid, tangy. I swallowed quickly, knowing the force of the stream would increase, and it did. I swallowed his liquid waste for about fifteen seconds as he stroked my hair. When he'd finished, he removed his soft cock from my mouth and shook it, a few droplets of urine splashing against my face.

"You're a good cocksucking faggot. Did you have fun?" I nodded. "What? Speak up, slut."

"Yes. I loved it. I love sucking your cock."

He smirked. "Good thing. I'll see you tomorrow night."

Next: Chapter 2


Rate this story

Liked this story?

Nifty is entirely volunteer-run and relies on people like you to keep the site running. Please support the Nifty Archive and keep this content available to all!

Donate to The Nifty Archive
Nifty

© 1992, 2024 Nifty Archive. All rights reserved

The Archive

About NiftyLinks❤️Donate