This is a work of fiction. No need to confuse any of the story with real life. Only read this story if you are 18 or older.
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I've always felt really guilty about my high school years. I knew kids who got the shit beat out of them for being gay or for "looking" or "acting" gay. I didn't beat them up, or yell at them, but I didn't try to help them. I just looked the other way. I was a "straight acting" basketball star who couldn't afford to give the impression of being anything but 100% Breeder. I was a 6'4", blonde, blue-eyed young buck and I forced myself to fuck as many cheerleaders as I could to convince people I was "man" enough. I fucked up my leg in a car accident my last year of college. Maybe it was my subconscious telling me something, I dunno. Anyway, fast forward 15 years later, I'm in real estate, and I'm dating a very, very shy, closeted man. Trying to help him "come out", since it was so difficult for me. Hell, none of the people I went to high school with know I'm gay. Only my parents and some of my co-workers do.
When I went back to my 15th anniversary reunion, my boyfriend didn't want to come along, and secretly, I was relieved. I wanted to be "one of the guys", for one last night. My best buds were there. Jamal, the star player on the basketball team and currently on a major national team, and Lenny, AKA Leonard. In high school people called him "NERD", because...well, his glasses were taped together and he weighed about 90 pounds soaking wet. I felt sorry for him and let him hang out with me.
Imagine my surprise when "NERD" walked into the gym as a STUD. Wearing a very well-tailored grey suit that offset his hazel eyes and close-cropped dark hair. He still wore glasses, but much nicer ones, no tape. And his body under that suit - WOW. He was definitely the star of the reunion.
We all had way too much to drink, except Leonard. So he was our designated driver back to our hotel. I was so nervous about whether or not to come out that I drank myself into a coma. I could barely see or walk. Jamal patted me on the back (and the ass) and staggered to his room. Leonard helped me to mine.
When I sat on the bed, I closed my eyes. I looked asleep, but I was actually in sort of a daze. Still awake enough to feel my clothes being removed, layer by layer, button by button. The cool air hardened my nipples as my dress shirt hit the floor. When my socks were removed I groaned at the warmth enveloping my toes, one by one. It must have been a mouth. Then finally my boxer briefs were pulled down. I'm pretty blessed - 8 inches hard - and I heard some sort of appreciative murmur when my gooey erection smacked against my abs. The next thing I felt was a tongue deep in my hole, and fingers. 2, 3, then 4, and another murmur of appreciation before a thick, long tube of flesh entered my stretched-out hole.
Was Leonard really fucking me while I was asleep? Damn, what a BASTARD. I wondered if I should stop him, if I could stop him, but deep down I didn't want to. I let him fuck me, let him push my knees up to my chest, and I popped my eyes open to scare him. To my surprise, he didn't even look upset. He just started fucking me harder. His eyes were dark, dead, full of lust and full of control. I was his property now.
"Yeah...that man-pussy of yours sure ain't exit only. How many guys fucked you before me?"
I groaned as his dong tweaked my prostate. I couldn't even talk. He just fucked me harder and harder until I began to ejaculate all over myself, glopping his handsome, sinister face with my seed. The mixed sensations made me black out. My last thought was to wonder what would happen next.