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---------------------------------------- Pounded C. Charlie - cosmic709@yahoo.com cceroticstories.blogspot.com charliessmut.tumblr.com ---------------------------------------
Note: This is a true story (as best as I remember it). There won't be a follow up or anything. I'd been shooting emails back and forth with another author (Ryan Rizzler – Check out A Top's Transformation in the Authoritative section) and I remembered this night. Figured it would be fun to write up. Enjoy.
It was late and we'd been partying most of the night. My buddies and I had put together the most epic flippy-cup team of all time, and we'd clobbered almost everyone at the party. The only downside to our reign of terror was that we had to play again and again and again. Now, deep into the night, we were all drunk. Worse, our long run of victories was making us cocky.
I slammed another beer. The crowd was thinning out, and I still hadn't found a guy to take back to my room. That was the problem with hanging out with my fraternity brothers. For a gay guy, it was often slim pickings when it came to getting laid. Unless I went out of my way to get some dick, which I hadn't done that night, I often ended up alone.
In my college days, I wasn't exactly an angry drunk, but I was known for being a little cocky and a little defensive. I didn't fight much, but it wasn't unheard of. That night, I was holding myself together pretty well, but I was getting aggressive.
A new group of guys walked up and challenged my team to another round. We accepted, of course, and a part of me hoped we would lose. I was sick to death of flipping those fucking cups and wanted nothing more than to collapse into a chair and drink myself stupid.
The other team consisted of some guys I knew from a rental house down the street. They were sort of skeezy, skater types. One was super hot – blond and muscular with a thin build. I'd tried to get with him a couple of times, but I apparently he was actually straight and not just pretending. As we lined up, I let him know that my offers, all of them, were still on the table. He rolled his eyes at me.
I was standing across from a guy I hadn't seen before. He was tall and a little thick. He had broad shoulders, a trim waist, and thick arms and legs. He wasn't cut and had a little bit of a beer belly. His brown hair was trimmed short and he was wearing a ball cap. He talked like a hick, and I guessed he was a brother or relative visiting one of the other guys. He just didn't look like a college student. As I stared him down, my dick started to stir. He looked like he'd just walked off the farm or come from some blue collar job. I was slobbering as he took his spot across from me.
Guys know when you're checking him out, and I was seriously oggling this guy. I wasn't even trying to hide it. He smiled at me with a crooked grin that meant, "I know you think I'm hot." It wasn't flirtatious. In fact, he was probably trying to throw off my game.
There was a lot of banter going on, and we were all ribbing the other guys. I was doing more than my fair share, and I directed most of it at the hick across the table. In my mind, it was vaguely flirtatious and funny. In reality, I was probably coming across as a drunk asshole.
The game started and my team won the first round. It wasn't even close. We played a few more and eventually the other team conceded the victory. As we continued to play and then afterward, I kept laying into this guy. He stayed quiet for the most part, but I was definitely getting under his skin.
I don't remember what I said, but suddenly he lunged at me. I smiled a goofy smile and said something like, "You wanna fight dude?" I smiled to let him know that I was fucking around and not serious. He smiled back and then came at me again.
There was a quick tussle. We kicked up some dirt and pushed each other around. I couldn't keep my balance, and I still wasn't sure if we were really fighting or just play fighting. He pushed his whole weight into me, he probably had me by twenty pounds, and I went down to the ground with him on top. He straddled one of my thighs and pushed down on the back of my head, rubbing my face into the dirt.
I was drunk, a little high, and a guy I'd been eye-fucking all night was on top of me. He smelled like beer and chew with a little bit of sweat mixed in. Total redneck, I thought, as my hard dick pressed into the ground.
I felt his hot breath on the back of my neck, and then he stood up. I flipped over, and he held his hand out. I grabbed it and let him pull me up. "You needed that you cocky bastard," he said as I got to my feet. I muttered something as we both brushed the dirt off of our jeans. I tried to adjust my dick without him noticing, but he caught me. I looked at him and sort of shrugged, as if to say, "We're both guys, this sort of thing happens." He didn't say anything. Instead, he pulled out a tin of Skoal and smiled real wide.
He walked toward me, glancing around a bit. Everyone had cleared out by that point. He got close enough that I could smell him again and feel the heat of his body.
"I turn you on, don't I?" he said. There was a little bit of a laugh in his voice, almost like he was making fun of me.
"I guess." I said, trying to play it cool, "You blame me?"
He smiled again. Even though he wasn't the hottest guy I'd ever seen, not even close, he was the sort of guy who exuded self confidence. He glanced down at his body. Then he looked me straight in the eyes.
"Bet you want me to fuck you," he said flatly.
I don't get fucked much. At that point, I'd only given it up to three or four guys. Two were fairly serious boyfriends and one was an older guy, in his forties, that I messed around with. Anyway, I didn't get fucked very often. It took a certain kind of guy to make me want to do it. I'm not hung up on being an Alpha or dom or anything like that, it's just that I only get into bottoming with a guy who is a little more aggressive and a little bigger than me.
This dude was exactly that kind of guy.
I smiled my best smile (which was probably crooked as hell given how much I'd drank) and said yes.
He spit out his chew and then walked back toward the house. I followed him, unsure if he was leaving or what. The dude was a man of few words. When we were both in the kitchen he stopped. "You got a room?" he asked.
I was sort of blown away. I lived in a fraternity, with lots of straight guys, and the "straight-guy-just-wants-to-get-off" thing rarely happened. I'd fooled around with a couple of my frat brothers, but that was the exception rather than the rule. Now I had this all American guy who seemed pretty straight asking me where my bedroom was. Even better, he looked sexier in the light. His face was angular and lean and he had a little bit of a shadow on his cheeks.
I nodded, took a step toward him, and tried to kiss him. He stepped away. "Let's just go to your room, ok?"
I walked him through the house and to the stairs. As I walked upstairs he grabbed my ass and said, "I'm going to tear you up, dude." One of my buddies was coming down the stairs, and he winked at me. Then I opened the door to my room, let him walk in, and closed the door behind us.
I tried to kiss him again, and he dodged me. I love making out, even when I'm with randoms, kissing is like my favorite think to do. As he stepped back he said, "This isn't that kind of thing."
"What kind of thing is it then?" I asked as flirtatiously as possible.
"The kind of thing where I fuck you," he said with a big grin.
Fuck he had a nice smile. Maybe because everything else about him was kind of rough, I didn't really expect him to have this friendly, sexy side. But when he smiled, he smiled with his whole face and put me at ease.
"Well, fuck me then." I said.
He grabbed onto my shoulders and tossed me onto the bed, face down. This alone set him apart from nearly all the guys I'd been with. I'm 5'11" and at the time I was a muscular 180 lbs. There weren't a lot of guys who just threw me onto the bed like this.
I made to turn over, but he took one of my feet into his hand and pulled my shoes off one by one. Then he started to yank at my jeans. I was wearing a decently tight pair of 501s, and I think he would have torn my legs off before they just came off on their own. I flipped over and reached for my fly to open them. He pushed my hands out of the way and pulled at my fly. He didn't realize that the were buttoned, so he yanked a few times before literally tearing my jeans open. I heard one of the buttons bounce across the floor as he pulled my jeans down my legs.
I wasn't wearing any boxers, like usual, and my dick smacked up against my stomach. This guy paid almost no attention to me as he opened up his fly and pulled out his dick. His cock was thick, uncut, and about seven and a half inches long. It was big, real life big if not porn star big. I was a little worried about taking it, but I was too turned on to have any second thoughts.
He reached into his pocked and pulled out a condom. He still hadn't taken his clothes off. He turned his hat around backwards, which was apparently all it took to get him into the mood. I wanted to strip him down, lick him, rub his muscles, and taste him. He ripped open the condom wrapper and started to slip it onto his dick, he looked up at me and said, "You got any lube?"
"On my dresser. No foreplay?" I said, a little nervously.
"Just fucking." he said with a wicked grin. "You've done this before right?"
The way he asked the question, I could tell that I wasn't the first guy that he'd ever fucked. I could also tell that he wasn't looking for something serious or for a guy that he'd need to be gentle with. He really was all business.
"Yeah." I said.
"Good." he said. He grabbed onto my ankles and twisted. I rolled onto my stomach. His jeans were still around his knees and he was still wearing his t-shirt when he climbed on top of me. I raised up onto my hands and knees as he lined his cock up with my asshole. Then he grabbed my shoulder and squeezed a few times.
"Here it comes, dude." he said. "You ready."
I nodded and took a little bit of the bedspread into my mouth. I didn't want to yell out, just in case someone else in the house was listening. The guys sometimes ribbed me when I was getting laid, especially if they were drunked up, and I didn't want them banging on the door and catcalling.
He pushed into me. There was some resistance at first, but I was pretty relaxed from the booze and dead set on making this happen. He put a little more pressure on me and then popped in. "Fuck," I groaned as he stretched me out. He was wider than anyone I'd taken before, and I felt the awesome mix of pleasure and pain that comes from feeling a little stretched out and totally full.
He humped me quickly, with long deep thrusts. His hands were on either side of me and he was holding his chest up and away from my back. I turned to look up at him, and his tongue was hanging out of his mouth like a fucking dog. He was panting as he drilled me, practically drooling as he tried to get his nut. I reached up and tried to grab at his neck, my last chance to get him to kiss me. When he figured out what I was up to, he grabbed the top of my head and pushed me down into the mattress.
"No kissing." he said with a little bit of a laugh in his voice. Then he grabbed onto my wrists and pinned them above my head. "I told you this was a fucking thing. That's all."
I'd played rough in the bedroom plenty of times. In fact, it was pretty much the only way I played. But I'd never felt so completely used by a guy before. He didn't care at all about whether I was getting off or not. He was just using me like a sex toy, and all I was to him was something to stick his dick into. With a different guy it would have felt contrived, but with this roughneck it was intensely erotic. He wasn't playing, he was fucking.
He was moving fast, and I just gave myself over to what was happening. I had a hot guy, a beast of a man, drilling my ass. All I could smell was his body, beer, and spearmint chew, which was a hell of a turn on for me at the time. His body might have been a little soft, but he was strong enough to take control of me and knew how to do it.
He started to groan. With each thrust he delivered a solid grunt. It was hot, and it was almost as good as dirty talk. I hate guys who don't do anything when you're laying into them, who don't make a sound. I like my sex to sound like sex. As he picked up the pace, my mattress started to squeak and bang into the wall every so often. That's what I wanted. If someone was walking by the room tonight, they would know that I was getting laid.
I flexed my ass and lifted myself up a little bit, trying to get some leverage so that I could play a little bit of a role in what was happening. He let me have it, and I propped myself up as he slammed into me. This guy meant it. He was trying to get off and had absolutely nothing else in mind. His single-minded pounding was getting to me, and I reached down and started to play with myself.
Within a minute, maybe two, he picked up the pace and really started to drill me. Long strokes slammed me back into the bed and caused my headboard to slam against the wall. Three or four of these deep, gut punching thrusts later, he grunted and slammed into me one last time.
"Take it." he muttered, "Take my fucking nut."
His legs stiffened against mine and then his ankles turned around and hooked me around the calves. All of his weight relaxed into my body and pressed me down against the bed. His muscles flexed on top of me and his breathing became ragged. The deeper he got into his orgasm, the more his resistance broke down. His hands were feeling my biceps now, and his mouth was on my neck. He wasn't really kissing me, but he was dragging his teeth across my nape and shoulder.
I loved the feeling of the weight of his body. He felt huge on top of me. He had a big frame and a solid amount of muscle. He pressed me into my bed as he finished. Then the moment passed.
He stood up and as I looked over my shoulder, he pulled his jeans back up. He'd never taken his clothes off. The whole encounter had maybe lasted ten minutes from beginning to end. I could tell that there was no point asking for his number. He wasn't that kind of guy.
I was still on the bed. The room was spinning a little bit and I was close to passing out. "See ya," I said with a smile. He grinned back. Then he reached down into his pants. "Forgot something." He pulled the condom off his dick and tossed it toward me. It landed with a wet thud on my naked ass.
When I heard the door close I turned over. I was still hard, and I grabbed the loaded rubber off the bed. He'd shot a lot of nut. I held it up, and his load filled the tip. I was drunk, horny, and feeling a little nasty. I poured his cum onto my hairy chest and rubbed it in. The smell of his nut filled the air, combining with the smell of him - beer, tobacco, and sweat.
I grabbed onto my dick and pulled at it roughly. I was smelling his cum, it was all I could think of. My skin was wet and it got cold as his load started to dry. I kept pulling on my cock until I exploded all over my chest and pillow. I'm a big shooter, especially when I'm horny, and my watery load splashed all over me.
When I was done, I took a deep breath, drank down some water, and closed my eyes to get my bearings. I passed out before I got a chance to clean up, and when I woke up the next morning, with dried cum all over my chest, I smiled. Despite the hangover, it was a good night.
--- That's it guys. Never saw him again, but it was the only time in my life I've been totally taken and used. So, there you go. -Charlie