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==ON CALL SLUT FOR THE FRAT BRO==
PREVIOUSLY:
I gulped down Matt's morning piss like a man dying of thirst. He didn't hold back; the stream was strong, fast, and pungent, perhaps a bit sweeter than Carson but still, to my newly developed taste, delicious. I could feel the relief settling into him in more than one way, and when I risked a glance at his face I could see his mouth slightly agape in surprise.
When he finished, I suckled on his head for a moment, but he pulled away and stuffed himself back into his underwear.
A few minutes later, Carson emerged from the bathroom, steamy and naked. I watched in awe as he grabbed underwear out of his bag and got dressed, unable to look away. His body, even after all the times I'd seen it, still amazed me.
"Bathroom's all yours," he said to Matt, who was once again on his phone. He looked up ever so slightly.
"All good bro. I used the other one."
Carson's gaze snapped to me, a devilish grin on his face.
CHAPTER 9: Athletic Supporter, Part 2
Another game day at State. The boys had to get to breakfast and a team meeting, and then they had until 5 before they had to get back to the rink for game #2. Carson told me to come back after lunch.
It wasn't lost on me that a theme had emerged: my service for these jocks was fully on their terms and their time. Mine didn't matter. But as long as I continued to get that dick, what did I care?
The boys left and I had a chance to clean off. I showered, longer than I normally would, and then got dressed in real clothes. The room seemed sad and empty without my hockey studs, so I headed out.
A cold Midwestern wind bit at my face. I trudged down the street to a Starbucks and got coffee and breakfast. I realized I was starving--I ate so quickly I didn't even taste my chocolate croissant. With nothing else to do, I pulled out my laptop and spent a few hours reading the news and watching YouTube videos, until I was hungry again for lunch. I wandered around a little more and found a diner where I ordered a tuna melt and scrolled through TikTok.
My phone buzzed with a text from Carson: "come back."
I quickly paid my bill and hurried back to the room, careful not to be seen. When I entered, both boys were lying on their beds. Housekeeping had clearly been by as the room was much neater than the fuck den we'd left it.
Noticing me, Carson rolled out of bed and grabbed the dirty jockstrap--my uniform for the weekend--and tossed it at me.
"Do whatever you need to do to get ready to get fucked, then put this back on," he said, almost dismissively.
"Yes sir," I replied. I wasn't really expecting to play again so soon, but I also wasn't one to look a gift horse in the mouth.
I grabbed my supplies and went to the bathroom to get prepared. I left the sink running so the boys wouldn't have to hear what was happening. 10 minutes later, I was lubed and ready.
Back in the room, Matt had rolled away from us, apparently taking a nap. Carson sat on the end of his own bed, elbows on his knees, texting. When he saw me return in just the jock, he rolled his eyes.
"Put your clothes back on, faggot. You're not getting any more of my dick yet."
Huh? I was confused, but I did as ordered. Once I'd dressed, Carson stood up and handed me a room key.
"This is for 320, down the hall," he said in a low voice. "Go in, take off everything but the jock, get on all fours on one of the beds, face down, then text me you're ready."
I took the key from him but the obvious confusion on my face seemed to amuse Carson. His eyes shined with an evil glint.
"I traded your ass to Barnes, our assistant coach, for some booze after tonight's game," he said, as though it should have been obvious. "Don't fucking disappoint me."
What the fuck, I thought. This was too far.
"Sir, I..."
"We got a problem?"
The look on his face and the tone of his voice told me I didn't have a choice in the matter. A panoply of emotions passed through my mind. My heart had dropped into a pit in my stomach, but I was in so deep with this man, there was no way I could defy him.
"No, sir," I whispered.
"Good," he said. He ruffled my hair in a brotherly way, then flopped back onto his bed.
I left the room and began a long walk down the short Marriott hallway. With each step I found myself more and more disgusted with what I'd become. Here I was, about to be fucked by a total stranger, so that the guy who already treated me like shit could get some alcohol. How pathetic was I? This wasn't like showing up to get used by Ramirez--at least then Carson was finding a way to amuse both of us. This was something different, transactional, and I felt dirty and cheap.
I was fine with being a slut, but I didn't enjoy feeling like a whore.
My body, however, seemed to have a different opinion. I could feel my cock beginning to stiffen, and I didn't hesitate when I reached room 320, confidently inserting the key into a strange lock and stepping into the unknown. I may have been of two minds, but my actions showed which one took precedence.
The room was identical to Carson and Matt's. It was dim inside. No lights were on, and while the blackout curtains weren't drawn, the privacy curtains were, muted light casting a pall over the room. The only evidence of occupation was a carry-on neatly stowed on a luggage rack.
I stripped off my clothes, folded them, and placed them on an armchair. I regarded the beds and chose the one nearer the bathroom, figuring that it would be harder to see me if anyone was passing as this Barnes person came in. I climbed onto the bed, got myself in an ass-up, face-down position, and texted Carson that I was ready.
He responded curtly: "keep your head down bitch."
Minutes passed. The only sound in the room was my breathing and the occasional rumble of the heating vents. I heard footsteps pass a few times but no one entered. I'd never felt more exposed in my life.
As I waited, I tried to see if I could picture Barnes. I couldn't remember much about the coaching staff from the one game I'd attended, but I was glad this was an assistant coach. The head coach was a grizzled old man, wiry and mean; the thought of bending over for him made my skin crawl. But from what I could recall, the assistant coaches were at least younger guys, usually washed up former players not good enough for the pros. Or maybe I was just being optimistic.
Finally, I heard footsteps approach and the sound of unlocking. The door opened and shut, and someone padded into the room. I heard him stop at the end of the bed. It took everything in me, my stubbornness, my horniness, my submissive nature and my deep need to please Carson, not to turn around and look.
"Well, well well," a manly voice said. "Conway wasn't kidding about this pussy. Looks tight as shit."
I detected a hint of Canadian in his accent: "aboot." Not surprising, as many hockey players, including several players on our team, hail from the great white north.
The sounds of undressing: the clank of a belt buckle, a zipper going down, clothes being pulled from flesh. For a moment, nothing, and then movement on the bed and my legs pushed apart. The short, sharp shock of a hard cock smacking against my ass, three times.
I braced myself for entry. Given the nature of the situation, I wasn't expecting any foreplay, only a rough insertion. So when instead the next feeling was the scruff of a beard followed immediately by a large wet tongue on my hole, I couldn't help but moan.
"AHHHHHHH!"
I'd only been rimmed a few times back in high school, and certainly never by Carson. None of those experiences were with the expertise or enthusiasm Barnes was showing. His tongue explored my hole, sliding up, down, and around, slurping at me like a lollipop. He seemed to know exactly what to do to relax me and turn me on at the same time. His hands spread my cheeks as his tongue lapped at my sphincter, occasionally hardening to fuck a little ways into my hole.
My inhibitions about the situation had completely dissolved, and I found myself moaning into the bed. I was in ecstasy, putty at the hands (and mouth) of whoever was behind me. Barnes was basically making out with my asshole, making me ever more horny. As the scruff of his beard tickled my crack, his tongue performed magic.
Eventually, I felt his face leave my hole and the bed shift as he came over to my head. A hard dick smacked against the back of my head. Taking his cue, I lifted my head and found myself presented with a beer can-thick, rock hard cock of about 6.5 inches. I took him into my mouth and immediately heard a groan of appreciation above me.
"That's a good girl. Get daddy nice and wet for your pussy."
I slurped down his pole like it was my job. (I guess it sort of was.) He was quite thick, but nothing I couldn't handle. Soon I was deepthroating him, sucking hard up and down, enjoying the feeling of his messy pubes tickling my face when I got to his base. He began to fuck my throat, gently at first, growing in speed until his low-hanging balls were smacking my chin with each thrust.
I risked a quick glance up, and found myself relieved to discover that Barnes was a handsome dude. I'd guess he was in his early 30s, a thick but trimmed brown beard highlighting a masculine face. His brown hair was long, almost shoulder length, but he had a backwards baseball cap covering it: hockey AF. He carried a little more weight than I was used to from my college studs, and he was definitely the most manly of the men I'd serviced, even more so than Ramirez, with a well-muscled barrel chest and beefy arms, all covered in a nice layer of fur. Daddy wouldn't have been a bad way to describe this stud.
I guess Barnes had enough of my mouth, because after only a few minutes he pulled out and padded back to the end of the bed. Out of habit, I arched my back and presented my ass to him. I heard him hock up a loogie and felt it hit my ass and drip down my hole. The head of his cock rested briefly on my hole, and then he pushed in.
He lingered just inside me for a few long moments, stretching me out but not pushing in. It was a gentler entry than I was used to from the frat studs. Later, it would occur to me that maybe Barnes had, in his relatively advanced age compared to Carson and Jake, fucked enough dudes to understand how to open up a bottom. Maybe he'd even bottomed himself. But at that moment, I was ready to get on with the show, so I pushed myself back until I felt his pubes against my cheeks.
Barnes let out a long, low groan of appreciation, and began to pump in and out of me in strokes of increasing urgency. Soon, he was dicking me deep.
What he lacked in length, he more than made up for in enthusiasm. This was an expert fuck; rather than using my ass as a fleshlight in the way the Delta studs tended to do, Barnes was actually fucking me, hitting all the right spots. He varied his stroke from time to time, long deep strokes turning into shallow rapid thrusts and back again.
It felt great to have my ass fucked rather than used. While I'd developed a taste for rough sex over the past few months, a nice standard bout of bottoming was just what the doctor ordered. I may not have been getting the intense prostate stimulation of Carson or Jake's huge cocks, but Barnes' thick dong still felt amazing.
He fucked me for a good 10 minutes before I felt his warm load fill my ass. He didn't give me any warning he was about to cum or any indication he had. He simply did his business with the same low groans he'd been letting out the whole time, gave me a few final small thrusts, and slowly withdrew. I heard him breathing heavily for a few seconds.
"Tell Conway thanks," he said. Then I heard a few footsteps and the bathroom door slam shut.
It seemed my work here was done. Seeing no other option, I pulled my clothes and shoes back on over the dirty jock and my cummy asshole and left the room. As I walked back to Carson and Matt's room, I laughed to myself. Whored out for liquor, and still I'd enjoyed myself. What a slut I'd become.
Back in the room, Matt was still asleep, but Carson was awake, lying in his bed on his phone. Had he been waiting for me? Something in the way he looked at me when I returned betrayed relief. Whether that was for my safe return after he'd sent me on this dirty errand or confirmation of his power over me, I couldn't say.
We stared at each other for a long moment. There was a strange new tension in the air.
"All good?" Carson asked quietly.
"Yes sir," I whispered.
He seemed lost in thought for a second. I waited, watching, still obsessed with this man's approval even after all he'd made me do.
"He nut in you?" Carson's voice was low and husky. I knew he was staying quiet for Matt's sake, but I also heard the unmistakable tenor of lust in it.
"Yes sir."
"Let me see."
He scooted to sitting at the near end of his bed, expectant. I turned around and slowly let my jeans fall to the floor. I bent over, hands on my knees. Suddenly, I felt unbearably vulnerable. Carson's big hands grabbed my ass cheeks, spreading them wide. In a mirror on the wall I could see his face inspecting my cum-filled hole, his look inscrutable. I felt a finger slide across it, and then in. I gasped. His finger explored my insides gently.
"Did you enjoy it?"
"Yes sir."
"As much as me?"
"No sir. No one fucks me as good as you."
A pregnant pause. He removed his finger, then reentered me with two. Barnes' load lubed his digits. His strokes in and out of me grew longer and more insistent.
"Did you cum?"
"No sir."
"Wanna?"
I'd never really cared for being fingered, but at this moment his digital stimulation had me right on the edge. My cock was straining the jockstrap, hard as iron.
"Yes, please! Can I sir?" I whispered through gritted teeth.
Carson brought his free hand to my hip for leverage, pulling me closer to him. His long fingers were pistoning in and out of me, curving slightly and finding places I didn't know I had. I could feel his breath hot on my ass as he said it:
"Cum for me."
In no time at all, I pulled the jock aside, freeing my dick. I was precumming so much that it only took a single stroke to lube the whole thing, and only a few more before I was blowing a huge load all over the hotel room carpet. I saw stars and bit my lip to keep from calling out as I shuddered with each shot, Carson's fingers buried deep inside me. The intensity of the orgasm was overwhelming, radiating from my groin throughout my whole body. I could feel it from the top of my head to my toes. I nearly collapsed at the power of it.
"Good," he said as he pulled out. I felt him wipe his fingers off on my ass.
My hand and dick were covered in cum. I turned around and saw that Carson had moved back to his original position, lying in bed on his phone, as though nothing had happened.
And yet for me, so much had.
I waddled awkwardly to the bathroom, where I washed my hands and cock, and finally expelled Barnes's load. There wasn't much, as presumably most of it had ended up on Carson's fingers. I looked at myself in the mirror, seeing myself in a new way for the first time. For months I'd obeyed this man. Now, it felt like I belonged to him.
I cleaned myself up and quietly went back to the room. When he saw me, Carson set his phone aside and put both hands behind his head. He yawned.
"I'm gonna nap, bitch."
He closed his eyes. I stood there, watching him. He looked so beautiful, boyish and innocent, his chest rising with each breath. Looking at this perfect specimen of young manhood, you'd never suspect the sadist within. I felt lucky to know, at least a little, Carson's duality.
I don't know if I was watching for 5 seconds or 5 minutes, but suddenly his eyes opened and met mine. We stared at each other for a long moment, then he withdrew one hand from behind his head and patted the spot on the bed beside him.
I kicked off my shoes and climbed into his bed. Keeping a safe heterosexual distance, I laid my head on the pillow, but Carson's big arm wrapped around my shoulders and pulled my head onto his chest. It felt both novel and completely natural to curl up against him.
His body was warm, and he smelled incredible, clean sweat and deodorant and whatever laundry detergent was used to wash his hoodie. I could hear his heartbeat, slow and relaxed, right under my ear. I'm sure mine was beating a mile a minute.
His arm rested gently around my shoulders, gripping me lightly. I rested a hand on his abs, careful not to disturb our fragile peace. His breathing was soft and undisturbed.
Within a few minutes, I heard a light snore begin to rumble from his chest. Within a few more, I too fell asleep, wrapped for the first time in the warm embrace of my master's arms.
The wakeup call was not as gentle. I felt Carson's body shaking, and when I opened my eyes, Matt was looming above us, a hand on his shoulder.
"Bro," he said softly to Carson. "Gotta wake up. Game time."
Carson's body tensed and he released me from his arms, sitting up with a jolt. I quickly moved away, knowing the moment had passed.
The clock read 6:00. Tonight's game was at 8:00. Both boys began to gather up their hockey gear, removing and repacking gear, tossing dirty clothes on the floor. The room soon looked as messy as I'd found it the day before.
Matt finished packing first, and sat waiting while Carson got ready. I sat on the bed, watching, my knees drawn up to my chest, trying not to be in the way.
"You coming to the game?" Matt asked me.
I looked at Carson. He was stuffing his skates back into his bag, the bag that had once smuggled me into Delta, with a little effort. He looked up and briefly met my eyes.
"Of course sir," I said.
If that pleased Carson, or annoyed him, I couldn't tell, but I thought I detected the hint of a smile. In the next instant, he was hiking his bag over his shoulder and out the door.
"Later bitch!" they both called out as they walked out the door, laughing to each other at being in unison.
I was groggy from the nap, but more so I felt overwhelmed by the intensity of the day. Never in our months of fooling around had I ever felt so close to Carson. He'd never pleasured me before on purpose. Any orgasms I'd had during our previous encounters had been incidental to his own. And yet today he'd fingered me to completion, and cuddled me to boot. Of course, he'd also whored me out to one of his coaches. I was so confused.
And, of course, deliriously horny.
I figured I should probably eat something. There was no reason to suspect tonight would be any less strenuous on my holes than last night, so I found a salad spot. As I munched on my chicken Caesar salad, I did a little research on our rivalry with State. As it happened, it was a pretty even matchup with an intense hatred on both sides going back decades. This year, State was much higher in the national rankings than our team. Perhaps that explained why last night's loss seemed like a disappointment rather than a kick in the gut.
When I got to the arena, I found it packed. A line snaked through the lobby to buy tickets. Luckily, I managed to snag one. The home side was teeming with people, as you'd expect, and even our side was mostly full. I grabbed a diet Coke and managed to find an aisle seat about halfway up behind our team's bench. I found myself surrounded by middle-aged alumni of our school, clearly at least a few drinks in. They were hooting and hollering and insulting State, singing our fight song, jovially belligerent. It reminded me of the scene at our homecoming tailgate.
The game was vicious. Even with my limited hockey knowledge, I could tell that both teams were out for blood. The checks were hard, penalties were flying, and fights kept breaking out throughout the game. It was all very exciting, if nerve-wracking, and of course I had my eyes on #84, Carson, practically the whole time.
The way he moved on the ice was like magic. He seemed to fly. Surely I was biased, but it looked to me like he was somehow just a little faster, a little more graceful, and a little more powerful than every other man on the ice. When he scored a goal just before the end of the first period to tie the game, I found myself jumping to my feet with the rest of our crowd, screaming my head off.
At the beginning of the second period, the woman sitting behind me tapped me on my shoulder. She was probably about 50, with blonde hair to her shoulders, bangs, and inside her tight t-shirt a pair of the biggest boobs I'd ever seen. I'd seen enough porn to know she was a MILF.
"You want something a little stronger, hun?" she asked with a wink.
Not waiting for an answer, she grabbed my cup and from a bottle discreetly tucked into her purse splashed a good amount of Jack into it. I thanked her enthusiastically and turned back to the game. The concoction was more Jack than Coke due to her heavy hand, so I took small sips and let the ice melt to water it down to a more tolerable level of booziness. Still, as the game went on, I found myself feeling increasingly tipsy. Hockey, it turned out, was a lot more fun to watch when you're drunk.
Matt hadn't started, but he came on in the middle of the second period. He wore #5 and, based on my research, played defense. Not long after he came onto the ice, he stole the puck from a State forward and passed it straight to Carson, who spun around two defenders and subtly handed it off to another teammate who whipped it into the back of the net.
Once again our side went nuts. In the commotion I turned around and found myself pulled straight into a hug by my neighbor, who in my mind I'd named Jackie. Because I was a row below her, the hug pulled my face right into Jackie's ample boobs. She seemed intent on smothering me in her celebration.
What straight guys find so hot about that, I'll never understand. But if you'd told me that during the weekend I was meant to be serving as a sex slave to a couple of straight hockey studs I'd end up motorboating a middle-aged MILF, well...okay I'd probably believe you. It seemed when Carson was involved, anything was possible.
In the third period, State managed to tie the game at 2-2, and the remainder of time was spent in a defensive stalemate. The puck traveled from one end of the rink to the other. No one could get a clean shot on goal. The buzzer sounded.
"Wooohoooo!!!" Jackie screeched from behind me, clapping her hands on my shoulders. "Sud-den death! Sud-den death! Sud-den death!"
"What's happening?" I turned and asked, slurring a little.
"You gay boys are so damn cute," she said, giving a smile to her equally done-up friend. "Overtime in our conference means sudden death. Five minutes and the first team to score wins. In a regular season game, if no one scores after that it's a tie."
I nodded, and blushed. While I was out and proud, I suddenly felt seen through by these women. In such a masculine environment, even the female fans seemed to have an upper hand on me. Worry flashed through me until I realized it didn't matter: no one knew me here.
The players took the ice for overtime. It was hard to see their faces, but something about the way Carson was skating suggested an intensity I'd never seen in his play before. Even after a full game he seemed like a ball of energy waiting to be unleashed.
The teams faced off and play began. It was brutal. Clearly both teams were leaving it all on the ice. Checks flew. Bodies whipped across the ice. The play was so fast and furious I could barely keep track of anyone. Matt got in a hard check on a State forward, drawing a chorus of boos from the opposite side of the rink. Jackie whooped.
Then, suddenly, Carson had the puck. He passed to a teammate, skated behind the goal, and at just the right moment received the puck. With a flick of his wrist, it found the back of the net.
It had all happened in the space of a breath.
The game was over.
This time, we'd won.
Our side went wild. On the ice, Carson had thrown his stick up in triumph and was surrounded by his teammates pouring out of the box to congratulate him. He'd whipped his helmet off, his blonde hair crazy, sticking up and half-matted with sweat, his cheeks flushed with exertion. On his face was a smile of pure happiness. He'd never looked sexier.
Across the rink, disappointed State fans quickly began to file out. But all around me, our supporters screamed their heads off. Jackie was jumping up and down so hard I worried her boobs would fly off into the stands. When she pulled me into another hug, I returned it with zeal.
"Oh shit, girls!" she called out to her friends, looking down at the ice. "That number 84 is gonna have his pick of the puck bunnies tonight!"
Jackie, I thought, you have no idea.
I hurried back to the hotel, still a little drunk. I knew the team would take some time to shower and grab food, but I wanted to be prepped for what I was sure would be another night of hard use.
Once again I did my business, making sure my ass was clean and ready for whatever. Once again I put on my uniform of the dirty jockstrap. Once again I tidied up the room and waited for my master to return.
An hour or so later, once I'd sobered up and began to get bored, they finally got back. The moment I heard the key in the lock, my balls stirred. Both boys entered with big smiles on their faces. I slid onto my knees.
"Hello sirs," I said. "Great game tonight."
"You got that right, fag!" Matt replied. He clapped Carson on the shoulders. "This dude right here is the MAN!"
Carson chuckled but said nothing. They both took off their coats and set their giant hockey bags down on the ground with what sounded like a louder-than-usual thud. When I saw Carson pull a 30-rack of Nattie Ice and a few bottles of liquor out of his bag, I realized that Barnes had held up his end of the bargain. Meanwhile, Matt pulled a few more cases of beer out of his bag and opened one.
"Yo let's gun a beer first," he said, tossing a can in Carson's direction.
Before I could react, a can was flying at me as well. I fumbled it but managed not to drop the can. Carson laughed as he watched me struggle.
"You know how to shotgun, bitch?" he asked.
"Yes sir."
It was true. I'd shotgunned plenty of beers at high school parties hoping the jocks I was drinking with would get blitzed enough to lower their "no homo" inhibitions when they struck out with girls.
I found Carson's keys and, holding the can, cut a hole near the bottom. Only a small amount of beer sprayed out. I tossed the keys to Carson, and he and Matt followed suit.
"Cheers, boys!" Matt called out. "Here's to beating those State bitches!"
We clinked cans, pressed the holes to our lips, and inverted them as we popped the tops. I swallowed smoothly, not as fast as the frat bros, but well enough that when we'd all finished and they'd dropped theirs to the floor, I got a mildly impressed look from both. Truth be told, I probably could have gunned it faster if I hadn't been so focused on the action of Carson's Adam's apple as he sucked the brew down.
"Fuck yeah!" Carson said, giving Matt a high five. He followed it with a hard slap to my bare ass. I yelped slightly in response, eliciting a giggle from both jocks.
"Alright bro, we gotta go," Matt said. "Power hour starts in 5."
"Bet," Carson replied.
They began to gather up the booze. I stood there awkwardly. Was I meant to come with them? I awaited my orders. Carson gave me a look that was somewhere between bashful and mischievous.
"Look," he said, grabbing his package, "I know you were looking forward to getting some more of this prime meat, but after a win like that we gotta celebrate with the team, and I can't exactly bring along a random gay dude. We cool?"
"Yes sir. I get it." I did my best to hide my disappointment.
"Plus once we get to the bar there bout to be some local thotties up in this bitch!" said Matt.
They high-fived once again. There was no doubt in my mind that Carson loved using my holes, but I also know at the end of the day he was mostly straight. I couldn't compete with good pussy.
The boys gathered up the booze for the pregame and put their coats back on. Carson pulled a few beers out of the open case and set them on the dresser by the TV.
"Some brews to get you through the evening," he said. And with that they left.
In the suddenly silent hotel room, drinking my consolation beers, my disappointment quickly blossomed into anger.
Seriously, what the fuck? I give up my whole weekend to come here, let Carson and Matt use and abuse me every way they want, let their fucking assistant coach fuck me, go to their goddamn game, all just to be abandoned in a hotel room while they chase tail?
Fuck. That.
I may be in thrall to this man, but I'm no doormat. I'm not going to be treated like shit unless it's at least somewhat on my terms.
I started packing my stuff in a rage, throwing what little I'd brought back into my backpack. I slammed another beer. Fuck them, I thought, I hope they strike out with the ladies. I knew this was petty and unlikely, but I didn't care. If this was how little I really meant to Carson, let him come back to an empty hotel room.
My shoes were nowhere to be found. I tore the room apart, looking under the beds, behind the chairs, even in the bathroom. I finally found them under Carson's hockey bag, which despite its weight I threw across the room in an angry huff.
A few items fell out, including a cup. The kind that protects the family jewels.
I couldn't help myself. My brain went on autopilot. I reached down and picked it up. From the sheen on the inside it was clearly just worn. I brought it to my nose.
There it was. His smell. The ripe, funky smell of Carson's balls and cock. My favorite smell in the world.
I boned up instantly. Urgently, I unzipped the jeans I'd just put on, pulled the jockstrap to the side, and whipped out my dick. I was already precumming. I stroked myself, standing there in the middle of an empty hotel room, an athletic cup pressed to my face, licking and inhaling deeply. It only took me a few minutes before I felt my orgasm building, and just as I felt myself about to go over the edge, I brought the cup down to my cock, aimed, and blew my load all over the inside. I'd already cum once that day, at Carson's hands, but still I managed to fill it up a good amount.
Post-nut clarity is usually animated by regret, but after my small rebellion I realized two things.
One, I couldn't escape Carson's pull. No matter how he treated me or how little he thought of me, time and again he'd shown that he did, in his own way, want me. And I wanted him, desperately. As long as he wanted me at all, I could never stop going back.
And two, if it was true that I was bound to him, I needed to find a way to reconcile my desire with his ambivalence, to make peace with the asymmetry of our relationship, or else to find a way to remap its parameters. Otherwise I'd lose my mind.
I put the cup, wet with my cum, back in Carson's hockey bag. Let him have a little of his own medicine, I thought. For a moment I felt triumphant. But as I crawled into his bed, suddenly exhausted, I realized that this may have been my greatest humiliation yet. To choose to stay, and wait for what could well be nothing. It was with those fitful thoughts that I curled up and fell asleep.
"Ayo, you awake?"
I heard it as I woke to someone shaking my body gently. It was Carson, alone. In the low light I could see him swaying. His hood was pulled over his head. Down the front of his hoodie were dark stains of what I hoped was beer. In one hand, he held a half-finished bottle of whiskey, the top nowhere to be seen. He set it on the nightstand clumsily.
"C'mere," he said.
I spun my legs over the side of the bed. He was standing right over me. His eyes looked sleepy but a drunken smile played on his face. Something about this made me angry, and feeling emboldened by my anger I stood up and faced him. I could tell by the way his smile widened slightly that this amused him. Was I finally going to resist? The question seemed to hang in the air between us.
Carson avoided my gaze and mumbled something quietly, drunk and incomprehensible.
"Say what?" I asked, a hint of defiance in my groggy voice.
He fixed his eyes on mine.
"I said you're a good boy."
With both arms, he pulled me into a bear hug, one hand cradling the back of my head, smothering my face in his chest. I could smell the booze on him. My anger dissolved, and I returned the hug, my arms clutching the tight muscles of his back. I felt him rest his chin on the crown of my head, then press a small kiss onto my hair.
We stayed like that for a few breaths: a lifetime.
In that moment, I began to understand the intensity of the weekend, and the many purposes my presence had served. Yes, I was there to take his abuse, to release his stress, to corrupt his roommate, to appease his coach. But I was also there, whether either of us had meant for it or not, to show him that his power over me lay in both his aggression, always laid so bare, and his gentleness.
All the while, I couldn't help but notice Carson's heavy soft cock pressing against my belly through his sweatpants. I soon felt his arms drop as he began to step away from me.
"I gotta take a leak, man."
The spell was broken, or maybe a new one had been cast. I knew what to do. I didn't resist. I grabbed the front of his hoodie to stop him from going to the bathroom, and then fell to my knees like a parishioner in the pew. I pulled his sweats and underwear down and took his dick into my mouth, suckling only a little.
If you've never drank a man's piss straight from the tap, you won't understand what an intimate act it is, even more so than giving head. I think that's what continued to draw me to it, why I felt so turned on by it when by all rights it should have disgusted me.
Unless he's the sort of guy who can piss with a boner, you can't suck. You can't really move at all. You just wait, looking up. It's a bit like a prayer; you don't know when your answer will arrive. If you're lucky, he'll be looking down at you, making eye contact, hungry for your submission. Most guys are too turned on by the sight of their dick in a mouth to do that. They have to avert their gaze to get the stream going.
Carson had no such problem. His eyes bore into mine, a look of satisfaction on his face as the floodgates opened. I was prepared for it, and began to swallow down that holy water. He let out a low groan and his eyes rolled back into his head as the stream intensified. I swallowed and swallowed. It didn't taste like much. He'd clearly drank a lot of beer.
I felt my own dick harden in the jock I was still wearing, despite everything that had happened. Everything about the moment--our new level of intimacy, Carson's dick in my mouth, the delicious stream of piss--intensified my attraction to him and solidified his hold over me. But there was a new element to it. I was no longer simply in thrall to this man. Now, I was choosing to be his.
When finally his stream stopped, I didn't even give him a chance to react. My body took over and I began to devour his cock like it was my last meal. All the practice I'd had over the past few months had led to this, the best blowjob I'd ever given. Drunk as he was, I was determined to get him hard, and within a few minutes I was slurping on my favorite 8 inches of anything on earth.
I sucked Carson like a man on a mission. I utilized every trick in the book. I used my lips and tongue to suckle his head as precum began to stream out. I deepthroated his cock over and over, slow and fast, varying my pressure and intensity. I pressed my nose against his pubes as I lingered on the downstroke and let my tongue snake out to lick his balls. I used my hands to fondle his nuts and stroke my spit and throat slime along his shaft as I fucked my mouth onto him.
All the while, I was so focused on my task that I hadn't even glanced up. When finally I did, I saw on Carson's face pure pleasure. I maintained eye contact. His eyes bore into my soul. I saw pleasure turn into desire and finally hunger. His hands came to the back of my head and, with a tight grip on my skull, he began to fuck my face like there was no tomorrow. My forehead bounced off his rock-hard abs with each stroke. I choked and gagged to find even the smallest bit of breath on each stroke. I was drooling so much I could feel it running down my chest. I've never been happier.
A few incredibly rough strokes later, he pushed me off roughly. Carson stood above me, both of us panting with effort. He smacked the side of my face.
"On the bed," he growled.
I clambered onto his bed where not 10 minutes ago I'd been asleep. I got on my hands and knees, arched my back, and pushed my ass into the air. I felt Carson climb onto the bed behind me. He pushed my legs apart and smacked my ass a couple of times with his cock before resting it on my hole. I felt the grip of his giant hands on my hips tighten, and braced myself.
Carson pushed all the way into me in a single stroke. A deep, guttural groan, an animal sound, escaped from somewhere inside of me. His cock felt like it belonged in me, like I was made to contain it, like I was incomplete without it.
He began a hard, rough rutting. In fact, to call it rough would be an understatement. It was like Carson was trying to stick his dick all the way through me. His cock flew in and out of my hole, deeper with every stroke. He kept adjusting his grip, first on my hips, then spreading my ass cheeks wide, finally grabbing onto my shoulders, adjusting his feet to mount me.
Nothing satiated Carson's desire to get fuck all the way through my ass. He couldn't get deep enough. Every thrust found new ground. I was so overwhelmed that I was nothing under him, just a body being used, conquered, manifest destiny.
But still never enough.
Suddenly: emptiness. He pulled all the way out. In the intensity of the moment my asshole felt cold, abandoned. But just as quickly I found myself flipped over onto my back. Carson grabbed my legs and pushed my knees into my shoulders, folding me in half and pushing my hole up into the air. With just his hips, he aimed himself at my entrance and plunged back in.
Holy fucking shit.
It was the deepest he'd ever been. Of all the times he'd fucked me, never once had it been anything but from behind. Now, in missionary, he was able to get deeper than ever before. His whole huge cock stabbed in and out of my pliant hole. Each stroke hit my prostate, hard, causing my own dick to release an endless stream of precum. If I touched it I knew I'd cum instantly.
But it wasn't just the size of the wave or the motion of the ocean. In this position, for the first time, I got to see Carson's face as he fucked me, to see his expressions as he gave us both pleasure, to look into his baby blue eyes as he explored my depths.
He put my legs on his shoulders and leaned in. If it were anyone else I might have expected a kiss, but I was no fool. Still, his face, so fucking handsome and manly, was just a few inches from mine. I could taste the whiskey on his breath and feel the heat of it on my skin. Sweat dripped from his nose onto me. I've never felt more connected to someone, or more turned on.
This went on for a few minutes, the only sounds in the room his hips rhythmically slamming into my ass and the grunts and groans escaping from each of us. The way his eyes screwed up with pleasure will be burned into my brain forever. If I died in that moment, I would have died happy.
But it wasn't to last. Soon, a new sound joined our rutting. It took a second to register: loud knocking on the door. Over and over and over again.
Carson rolled his eyes in annoyance and let out a wild growl.
"FUUUUUUUUCK!"
He pulled out of me roughly and lumbered over to the door, his massive red-hot schlong leading the way. No sooner did he open it a crack that Matt came tumbling in, almost falling over. He was clearly wasted.
"Uggggggh brooooooooo fuuuuuuuck," he groaned, picking himself up and stumbling, barely, to his bed. He flopped onto his back.
Carson padded back into the room, still rock hard, still panting. He was lightly stroking himself, clearly unwilling to leave the sex and needing to get off. From the way he was swaying I could tell he was still drunk too.
"Dude what the fuck?" I could hear just a hint of anger in his voice. "I thought you were bout to bone that townie chick?"
"Man so did I!" Matt stared at the ceiling, looking distraught, but he had one hand snaked into the front of his sweats. "We were goin' AT it bro! I was fingering her pussy on the dance floor and she had her hand down my pants all OVER my cock. Bro, she was SO wet and tight, I couldn't wait to get in there. And this girl was a freak! She was nibbling my ear and whispering some NASTY ass shit she wanted to do."
"So what happened?" Carson asked. He seemed into the story. His cock hadn't lost any of its hardness.
"Sully comes over and starts yelling that her fuckin' friend puked all over their booth so she had to go take that bitch home. I couldn't fucking believe it bro. I was so close to getting some pussy. FUCK! I need to fuck!"
Matt sounded like he was in physical pain telling this story, and from the way his hand was moving in his sweatpants, he needed relief and fast. I looked at Carson, who met my gaze and seemed to think for a minute before nodding toward Matt.
Here we go again.
I climbed out of Carson's bed and onto Matt's. Before he could react, I straddled his waist facing towards his feet, pulled his sweats down, grabbed his cock by the base, aimed it at my hole, and sat down.
We each groaned in pleasure. Matt's dick hit different, that's for sure. His cock had a serious curve to it, and while it wasn't as long as Carson's, at its widest it was girthier than any other cock I'd taken. It found different spots in my ass than Carson had, new pleasure centers that caused sparks to course through my body.
I bounced up and down on Matt's big cock, using all the bottom tricks I'd picked up, trying to give him the ride of a lifetime. When I glanced over my shoulder I saw him transfixed by what was happening to his cock, jaw agape.
"How's that for some pussy, bud?" Carson asked. I looked up and saw him smiling, still rock hard and stroking.
"Fuuuuuuck bro." Matt's voice was rough. "Shoulda taken you up on this sooner! This is some grade A puss!"
Carson laughed. I beamed at the compliment. Hearing these guys talk about me as a piece of meat, humiliating as it should have been, always got me going. And being able to watch my master jerking his cock with hunger in his eyes as his best friend's cock tore me a new one just added to the horniness of the situation.
Matt's hands found my hips, and for a moment he held them lightly as he guided me up and down on his member. But never forget that a Delta stud always runs the show.
Suddenly, I felt his grip tighten. The bed shifted and Matt thrust his cock all the way into me, pulling me tight against him. Then, with a show of true athleticism, he flipped both of us over while still balls-deep inside me. It happened in the blink of an eye. Now I was a rag doll, flattened onto his bed, as he began to long-dick my hole from behind.
Each thrust was more violent than the last. I could hear Matt grunting and muttering.
"Fuck yeah, take that dick. You like that big black cock, faggot? You like gettin' dug out? Yeah, fuckin' take it. Fuck!"
I was so fucked out I couldn't say a word. I could tell I was grunting with each thrust, but my mind had left my body.
Matt shifted positions, never leaving my now-gaping hole. He kicked my knees apart and pulled me up to a child's pose so he could hit it doggy. I felt the bed shift near my head, and then I was being pulled onto my elbows and then hands. Carson's dick was right in front of my face, and although I had no control over my body, it somehow knew to open up and take it.
I was being spitroasted. It was just the first of many positions they used my holes in over the next period of time. If I'm vague it's because I have no idea how long these frat gods used me. I had no sense of time or space. My mind was given over to sensation. I could hear them, and vaguely follow orders, but mostly I felt nothing but pain and pleasure, intertwined into something so much more than the sum of its parts.
Snatches of memory, images really, come to me through the haze of this epic fuck. The boys switching back and forth, spinning me around the bed, going from sucking to bottoming and vice versa over and over. Matt must have lost all squeamishness. I certainly couldn't have cared less about the repeated ass-to-mouth.
At some point, they'd laid me on my back with my head over the edge of the bed, so the guy using my mouth could fuck my throat. Carson had his dick in that end as Matt plowed my ass, his big hands under my knees pressing my legs down. I couldn't see anything except Carson's ass and taint, sweat dripping down it onto my forehead. My nose was in his balls as he abused my throat. Somehow he smelled even better than ever.
"Bro, remember that chick we fucked after Spring Fling last year?" Carson asked.
"Fuck yeah man. I don't remember her name but I remember her cunt!"
"Should we?"
"You think he can take it?"
"My bitch takes whatever I tell him to."
"Let's do it."
"Bet."
Both boys withdrew their cocks. The emptiness shocked me back into awareness, but I had no idea what was happening. Matt climbed off the bed. Carson laid down on his back, his legs hanging off the edge. He elbowed me.
"Ride me, bitch."
I lumbered onto my hands and knees and turned to face away from him, but he grabbed my hand and spun me toward his face. I straddled him, looking down at this gorgeous blonde frat star, my beautiful master. I reached behind me and found his cock, still rock hard and slick with lube, aimed it at my hole, and sat down.
Carson let me ride him for a few strokes before reaching up and pulling me into him. His hands reached under my armpits and wrapped around my back. One hand found the back of my head and pulled it against his neck. Instinctively, I pressed my face into his sweaty neck and kissed it. I could feel his breath hot in my ear.
It was the closest we'd ever been, and yet he didn't fuck up into me. He just held me tight, deep inside me.
Then I felt Matt's dick at my hole, just above where Carson's monster was already stretching it out.
Fuck.
They were gonna DP me.
I hadn't bargained for this.
My body had begun to react before my mind realized what was going on. I squirmed in Carson's arms and tried to escape. But he held me close and whispered softly into my ear.
"Relax, relax," he said, soft and gentle. "This is gonna hurt, but I know you can handle it."
My breathing was rough and fast, like hyperventilating. Carson stroked my back as he held me in place. His tongue snaked into my ear. That was always an intense sexual trigger for me, but not something I ever expected from him. My fear dissolved ever so slightly.
Matt pushed into me, slowly.
I felt my hole stretching at his invasion.
It burned. Nothing had hurt my ass this bad since Jake Thorn made me sit on a huge butt plug to prove my willingness to serve. I hadn't pussied out then, and I wasn't about to now.
Still, the pain was incredibly intense. I could hear myself squealing involuntarily. Carson's mouth was against my ear, chewing on it and whispering words of encouragement.
"You're such a good boy. Such a good boy for me. It feels so fucking good."
"This shit is so fucking tight dude!" Matt added from behind me.
In any other moment, I would have melted at their words. In that moment, however, it was all I could do not to scream and run away.
Matt's dick slowly made its way inside me alongside Carson's. It took a few minutes but we got there. Two giant Delta hogs, stretching my formerly tight hole to its limits. Matt lingered for a minute, and then I felt Carson nod.
In and out, Matt began to thrust. It was by no means the aggressive fucking I'd been receiving all night, but given how tight everything was in there at the moment, I doubt he could have gone much faster. Carson rocked up into me slightly, but his position prevented all but the most shallow thrusting.
I won't lie. It fucking hurt, the entire time. Unlike a normal bout of bottoming, at no point did getting double-stuffed give way to pleasure. I gritted my teeth and tried to relax, but no amount of mental strength could make my asshole more elastic.
The boys, on the other hand, seemed like they were in heaven. Carson's voice, soft in my ear, "oh fuck, oh shit" over and over, pure pleasure. Matt merely grunted with each ginger thrust. The energy was beyond intense. Despite the pain, I'd never felt more desired.
It only lasted a few minutes. I was thankful: I couldn't have taken much more.
"You close bro?" Carson grunted, his breath hot against me.
"Bro I BEEN close this whole time. This is the tightest shit my dick has EVER been in."
"Fuck yeah it is. Let's creampie this pussy."
Matt's thrusts took on slightly more urgency, and within a few seconds I heard him growl. His cock, pressed so hard against one side of my anal cavity, began to pulse as he came. Carson issued a wild groan as well, and soon he was nutting too.
Normally, getting bred doesn't feel as dramatic as you'd expect unless it's a truly monstrous load. But when you're stuffed with two huge dicks, there's only so much space, so you feel everything.
And I felt everything.
Ever pulse from each cock.
Every rope of thick frat boy cum.
Every shudder of Carson's body.
Every grunt from deep inside him, as he and Matt flooded my hole.
We stayed like that for a long moment. The room was thick with sex and sweat, the only sounds our panting. Matt began to pull out. I felt Carson kick him gently.
"Slow," he cautioned. My hero.
Matt's dick made it about halfway before my asshole evicted him, squeezing it the rest of the way out. I shuddered. The feeling of emptiness was extreme, even though I still had Carson's huge piece lodged inside me. He seemed content to let me stay collapsed on top of him. His grip on my shoulders had loosened, and he idly rubbed my back. It felt comforting after the intensity of what had just transpired.
Vaguely, I heard Matt go into the bathroom, piss, come back out, and flop onto his bed. As I began to regain my wits, I could feel the toll their assault had taken on my ass. A profound soreness was beginning to develop. I pressed a kiss to Carson's neck to indicate I was ready to get up.
He took the hint and lifted me off him. Normally I would gasp at such a quick exit from my ass, but his dick slid out with no resistance. He rolled me over onto my back, grabbed my hands, and pulled me onto my feet.
Throwing an arm around my shoulder, I felt him walk me into the bathroom. He spun me around and steadied me, then reached down and ripped the truly vile jockstrap off me. I gingerly stepped out and then, taking my hands again, he sat me down on the toilet.
"Let it go, dude," he said quietly.
I let a torrent of cum rush out of my ruined ass. It felt like a waterfall. I sat there for a second, letting the last of it drip out, and looked up.
I'll never be able to look at Carson and not lose my breath. He was just that beautiful. Everything about him--from his sexy blonde hair to his manly, handsome face to his jacked chest and chiseled abs to the python swinging between his legs--seemed designed just for me, to turn me on to the absolute max. And in this moment, after such an intense day in so many ways, I felt closer to him than ever before.
He was sweat-soaked, but I noticed his abs were covered in something else. I reached out a curious finger and swiped across their hard ridges.
"That's your load, bud," he chuckled.
I was in awe. I'd cum without even knowing it. As I examined the huge amount of my own splooge slicked across him, I couldn't help but notice Carson's dick hanging full and heavy. I grabbed it with one hand, lifted it, and put it in my mouth.
I only got a few strokes in before Carson gasped in sensitivity. I looked up and he'd screwed up his eyes, overwhelmed by the rawness of it. I backed off and suckled lightly, unable to give up my treasure. Suddenly, his eyes were serious again.
"You want it?" he asked.
I nodded.
"Good boy."
A trickle began, and then a torrent. I gulped his piss down like a man dying of thirst. Carson looked at me with lazy satisfaction, draining the lizard down his sub's throat as though it was the most natural thing in the world. I suppose now it was.
When he finished, I reached for some toilet paper and wiped my wet, gaping hole. It stung a little. Carson grabbed my hands again and lifted me off the seat. He peered over my shoulder and chuckled again.
"Shit. That's a lot of fucking nut!"
I glanced back. It sure was, a huge cloud of white cum settling at the bottom of the bowl. It wouldn't occur to me until later that he was also checking to make sure there was no blood.
Gingerly as before, he walked me back into the room. Matt had curled up under his covers, snoring away. Carson stripped the destroyed bedspread from his bed and tossed it on the floor, then jumped in. He waved me toward him.
"Get in."
He held a hand out for me. I took it and let him pull me into bed, into his arms. He curled his body around mine, spooning me, both of us completely naked. I barely had a chance to enjoy it, this moment that should have been my dream, before I passed out.
Someone's alarm woke us rudely at 9:30. We had to be out of the hotel by 10. Both boys were hungover and grumpy. The mood in the room was rushed and resigned. There was none of yesterday's sexual energy. It seemed we'd used that all up in last night's fuckfest.
I don't know how they managed it, but both boys were coming back in the car with me rather than on the team bus. As the least hungover among us, I volunteered to drive. We stopped for egg McMuffins, and after scarfing down the food both of them fell back asleep.
An hour later, I had to stop for gas. I filled up the tank and grabbed some provisions. A road trip isn't right without junk food, and I figured the boys might appreciate some Gatorades when they woke up.
When I got back to the Jeep, I found Carson awake and in the driver's seat. Matt was still asleep in the back, his huge form sprawled across the seats. I took shotgun.
Carson pulled out of the gas station. I handed him a Gatorade. He grunted thanks.
We drove in silence for a while. It wasn't awkward, just quiet. I'd spent enough time with these guys by now to be comfortable in their presence, despite the power imbalance. I watched the bland countryside pass.
"So," Carson said after a while. "Last night."
I turned to him. His eyes from on the road and his expression was inscrutable.
"Yes sir," I said. "Last night was intense."
"You took it like a champ."
I beamed.
"I assume you never done anything like that before?" he continued.
"No sir," I admitted. "Never. Have you?"
"A few times. Jake liked to see how much his fag bitch could take. And me and Matt DP'd a girl once, but that wasn't in the same hole."
That explained what they'd been talking about last night.
"I can't say it's something I'd ever really thought about trying," I said.
Carson chuckled. "No shit. You were squirming like crazy when Matt pushed in."
"It hurt."
"Yeah, but you like having your limits pushed, don't you?"
I looked over at him. His eyes were on the road, but a tiny smile was beginning to form on his face.
"I guess so sir. I like to make you happy."
"I know," he said, satisfaction in his voice. "It's fucking hot how submissive you are for me. I'm gonna keep going further. I hope you're ready for that."
A dark feeling of fear and desire passed through me. We'd gone so far already. What lay further down this road I couldn't even imagine. But I realized I wanted to find out.
"I am, sir," I said. "I trust you."
"Good boy. I won't let anything bad happen to you."
Carson looked over at me, a smug smile on his face. He reached into his sweats and pulled his big floppy cock out.
"Now why don't you give me some road head."
TO BE CONTINUED...
UP NEXT: It's pledge season. Teddy finds himself playing a key role in Hell Week...
Thanks for reading! I know this took quite a bit longer to post than previous chapters, but it was much more involved. I hope it was worth the wait.
Speaking of, from now on chapters will come out...when they're done. This is the end of the first big batch of what I'd written. I have parts of future chapters started and a generally idea of where the story will go, but I'm not making any guarantees as to when future installments will be ready. Rest assured this story will continue. As you can see, Carson is hardly done with Teddy, and neither am I.
If you enjoyed the story, have feedback, or have ideas for future chapters, I'd love to hear from you: elliottpatterson02@gmail.com