Senior class trip 2 (t/t,oral,humil) by Matthew Lake
Previously...
As my nipple throbbed and the blood returned to it, Steve moved my hand away from his dick. I continued to look forward, but could make out that he was unsnapping his jeans and quietly sliding the zipper down. As he opened his pants, the smell of him became stronger. He reached into the band of his underwear momentarily, and then pulled his finger out. He leaned toward me, moving his finger to my nose. "Something to remember me by for the rest of the trip," he said and began to smear his pre-cum under my nose. At that moment, his powerful, masculine sent was a high like none I've experienced to this day. My reverie was broken though, as he finished zipping up and leaned over one last time. "Now get back to your own seat, fag."
And now the exciting conclusion...
The rest of the bus ride was uneventful. The smell of Steve's precum was overwhelming as I re-lived the recent events and conversation again and again in my mind. I had felt Steve's hard dick. Not only that, but he was prepared to fuck my mouth. I might soon be feeling the contours of that hard prick with my mouth instead of just my hand. I was terrified and elated at the same time. I sat there in disbelief, and my cock remained uncontrollably rock hard and throbbing in my own jeans. The couple of times that I summoned enough courage to look over towards Steve, he would smirk at me and half-chuckle and once he mouthed the word "cocksucker."
Of course, It was unthinkable for me to make eye-contact with him and I knew why. Although he was just a teenager, he was a real man with a big hard dick. A man who fucked women, a man who impregnated women. And a man, who, when a woman wasn't around, would use a faggot's mouth to dump his load. And I had tacitly agreed to be that faggot, a receptacle for his cock, for his pleasure, for his sticky, stringy cum. And he had marked me with his scent, like an animal, laying his claim where he had optioned to lay his pipe, if needed. I accepted Steve's domination without question, like the queer I was, taking my place in the sex chain. But what made it even more degrading was that I had longed for this. I had dreamed of kneeling in front of this teen stud, of sucking his hard cock and breathing his masculine scent. Of doing anything that he wanted me to do. And he knew I knew my place.
The bus pulled into the resort and soon we were getting off the bus, all the boys heading to one cabin, the girls to another. The first guys there put dibs on what few beds were available in the small rooms that adjoined the main cabin. In the craziness, I wasn't sure where Steve ended up, but I ended up with a patch of floor in the main room. Before too long, someone suggested swimming and minutes later, swim suits were pulled from duffel bags as guys started to shuck jeans and shirts for shorts.
As this trip was probably the last time I'd see naked male flesh until I went to college in the fall, I changed very slowly and began to take mental notes, cataloging the chests, asses, dicks and balls of my classmates. I was a wide-eyed kid seeing wonders I knew I'd never see again. I was among the last out, running for the lake, jumping in with the rest of the guys. It wasn't too long before the women of the class joined us, and we all spent most of the rest of the morning and afternoon swimming, eating the hot-dogs our chaperones grilled for us and hanging out.
I was torn between obsessing about and watching Steve's every move and having fun swimming and roughhousing and socializing with my friends. I probably split my time about 50/50. Steve was paying special attention to a few different girls, and looked like he was making inroads with Traci. The closer I saw them get, the more jealous I became. I wanted to be Steve's cocksucker more than anything else at that moment, and I knew that one of two things would happen on this trip. Either my fantasy stud would seed one of my female classmates with his next child, or he would spend his pent-up sexual energy in my mouth. Although up to that point, I was entirely a virgin, I could already feel his hands on the back of my head, my tongue caressing his silky cockhead, his shaft sliding into my mouth, his balls resting against my chin, my forehead pressed tight against his abs. And although somehow I knew that taking the cock of another male in your mouth was about the lowest thing a guy could do, I knew that it was my place, and I was jealous she might steal it away from me.
Daylight turned to night and the activities moved into the cabins. Decks of cards and board games were dragged out from a pantry in the wall, and a small group of us began playing Taboo. Taboo became Uno, and Uno became Jenga. As one game led into another, one of the guys in our group fished in his duffel for a shampoo bottle which happened to be filled with vodka and was soon used to spike the punch. Several glasses of punch, combined with the fun and games allowed me to take my mind off of Steve, and I was surprised when a couple members of the group cited the late (by then it was early morning) hour and talked of turning in.
It seemed that some of our classmates had already done so, and soon the women were walking back to their cabin and I, with the remaining guys, started to unroll our own sleeping bags and prepare for sleep. Steve was not in the cabin that I could tell at this point, so I concluded that his work on Traci had paid off. I got into my bag and someone turned the lights out, but the room was far from pitch black. I could see sleeping bags arranged throughout the room and the soft sounds of breathing overtook the room, accompanied on occasion with more abrasive snores. I was restless and lay in my sleeping bag thinking of the fuck Traci was getting and that I was missing out on.
My dick was like steel, but I couldn't jack off in the open room surrounded by other guys for fear of getting caught. And spending the requisite amount of time in the bathroom would be too obvious. I'd been hard or half-hard most of the day, Steve's spoken words on the bus teasing me with half-promises of what I hoped and dreaded would come. Sleep was a long time coming, and not particularly restful when it did.
I woke up with the sun to a cabin full of heavily sleeping forms. I tried to get back to sleep, but finally gave up and picked my way to the bathroom, closing the door softly behind me. I stood in front of the toilet, my hardon in my hand, willing it to go down so that I could piss. Finally, after several long minutes, I was able to slowly release my bladder, although my dick never fully softened. I found my kit among the others on the shelves and quickly brushed my teeth. I was still wearing my bathing suit, so I just left it on and headed to the door of the cabin the great outdoors.
There were people asleep on the screened porch, and so I stepped over a few sleeping bodies before finding myself outside on the front porch. And that's where I found Steve, laying on his back on the porch glider, still wearing his sunglasses and his bathing suit from yesterday. One of his arms was behind his head, revealing a small patch of dark hair in his armpit, the other rested on his chest below his pecs and above his abs. Around his neck, a thin gold chain whose cross had fallen into the hollow formed by his collarbone contrasted with his golden, tanned skin. The band of his bathing suit sat low on his hips, revealing just a hint of the untanned skin that lay beneath their bulk. I was startled to see him, and intending to pass by and head down to the lake front, I gently walked towards the stairs. Just as I passed I heard him. "Morning, faggot," his voice was just loud enough for me to hear, but no other. I stopped dead in my tracks as he sat up, a slight grin on his face.
"I'll walk with you," he said as he stood up, stretching his arms high, his skin tight across his ribs. I turned and continued down the stairs, Steve trailing me and headed for the dock. I stopped before venturing out, but he walked to the very end. From behind, I could tell that he pulled his dick out over the top band of his shorts and I could hear him pissing into the lake. Soon, he finished and tucked himself back into his shorts, returning down the dock to where I was standing.
"There's a little store up the road a ways," he said as his left hand reached for my nipple. It went immediately hard at his touch. "I need some gum. Let's walk up there and get some." He pinched and twisted, but more playfully than the day before. "Come on," he said as he started out. "Hurry up."
I turned and caught up to his lead before we fell in side by side. The road, like all roads in the Ozarks, was blacktop, barely two lanes, and all hills, twists and turns. I walked on the ditch side, Steve towards the middle of the road as we made our way to the little country store.
"So, how long have you been queer?" he asked me after an eternity of silence. I was completely caught off guard. I turned and looked to him to see if this was another one of his mind-games, but he seemed sincere. He looked over to me. "Honestly. I don't care. I just wondered. You don't have to tell me if you don't want to," he trailed off.
I was having trouble answering because I wasn't sure what the answer was myself. I'd known I wanted Steve for years, and fantasized about being used by him in every way I could imagine as I jacked off. But the fantasy was different than yesterday's realization that I would actually follow through on every one of the acts that I knew were the most disgusting and degrading a guy could do, and that I wanted to do them more than I could say. In a way, I'd known I was queer all my life; but in another, I'd only known for, at most, a day.
"I don't know." It seemed the safest answer, although it didn't really express the jumbled depth of my conflicted thoughts and feelings. "I guess it just happened. I might not even be one." I could feel the lie cross my tongue and knew that Steve would immediately know it for a lie, too. It was one of those phrases you wish you could reach out and take back.
"For someone who might not be a fag, you sure gave me a good handjob yesterday. Unless jacking on another guy's joint doesn't make you gay." Steve turned to me as we walked and smiled, but it wasn't a malicious smile. He seemed amused by my predicament, that I had boxed myself in with my words. "It's not all bad. It's just who you are. Some guys are built to fuck, like me. And then there are guys who aren't like that. They're more like girls. Those kind of guys like nothing better than giving another guy pleasure, whether they're sucking cock or being fucked in the ass. Sure, they're fags, but they can't help it, so let 'em be fags and make use of them when you need to. That's my philosophy. And the truth is, and you know it, and I know it, you're one of those, aren't you. A guy who wants to be fucked by other guys. Admit it."
I knew that Steve was right about me being gay. We both knew. "Yea. I guess I am."
As I admitted my gayness out loud for the first time in my life, we crested the hill and the store came into view.
"Doesn't it feel good to say it?" asked Steve. "You're a fag and that's okay, cause I'm good enough and I'm smart enough, and dog gonnit, people like me." Steve laughed at his joke and for the first time that morning I smiled.
We walked into the store, and Steve began surveying the candy section. I just sort of stood by waiting for him. When he had made his selection, he proceeded to the cash register and set the gum down. He reached for the waistband of his shorts and pulled out the small zipper change pouch attached just inside the band. As he searched around for a dollar, my eyes were glued to his crotch, and I was not disappointed. It was clear that he was putting on a show for me (and maybe for the cashier) and as he looked for cash, his waistband drew further and further down until his brown pubes were clearly visible. It seemed he would go further, and my breath caught in my throat as I waited to see more, but then he found his cash and the show was over.
He looked over to me, hitting me in the shoulder. "Breathe, man," he said with the smirk from the bus. "Jesus." I felt the blush creep over me as he took the gum and his change and we both left the store and started back toward the cabins.
About halfway back, Steve broke from the road and started down a driveway. I stopped to see what he was doing. After a few steps, he turned back to me and gestured for me to follow. "Come on. You're an admitted faggot. You just about passed out checking me out in the store. It's clear that you want nothing more than to suck on my cock, and I'm horny, I need head. It's time for you to live the queer dream," he said with a grin. "I'm gonna give you the fuck you been wanting forever."
I couldn't help myself. I followed him off the road and down the path to my destiny. A destiny which would, at the very least, leave me a faggot cocksucker and who knew what else. Regardless, my steps were not tentative. I chose to walk with Steve.
Out of sight from the road, Steve stopped by a downed tree in a small natural clearing. He pointed to the ground in front of him. "Get on your knees, bitch. It's a position you better get used to." I stepped close enough to inhale his scent. The day was getting warmer and our walk had both of us a little sweaty. He put his hands on my shoulders and pressed me down. I dropped to my knees in front of him, slowly tilting my head back to look up. My gaze traveled over his crotch, which was beginning to tent out, up his smooth abs, pecs, neck and face. "Look into my eyes," he said, taking off his sunglasses. Our gazes locked in silence for a moment. "You're about to get fucked by a real man. By a real man's cock. I'm doing you a favor by letting you have what you want most. If you really want it, if you want to feel my cock inside you, I want you to tell me how much."
Admitting my gayness fifteen minutes ago wasn't enough for Steve. Before he would let me have his cock, I had to beg for it. I had to kneel before him and beg to perform the shaming acts that would make me less than a man, the words that would leave no denial of my submission or my queerness.
"Please, Steve," I started, choking on the words. It was hard for me to speak the words he required. "I want you to let me suck your cock. I want to lick your head and shaft down to the root, to feel you in my mouth. I want to lick your nuts and taste you everywhere. I want to do anything that will bring you pleasure. Please say yes. I need it. Please." And with the last please I could no longer look into his eyes. My gaze dropped to directly ahead of me and I resumed staring at his tenting crotch.
"You may suck me, fag boy. Pull down my trunks." I reached up to his sides and took hold of the waistband. I pulled down and they followed, revealing the pubes I had just seen, and then his dick, his balls and then they were falling to the ground and Steve was stepping out of them. I reached back up with my hand, placing it on his pelvis. I slowly moved it towards his shaft, my fingers running lightly through his pubes. His cockhead was inches from my mouth, standing stiff and proud, angling up from his full, slightly hairy nuts.
Before I could touch his dick, though, he pushed my hand away, gripping his cock at the base. He grabbed my head with his other hand and began to slap his dick against my cheeks, first on one side and then on the other. Then, holding his dick just beneath the head, he rubbed the head fully over my lips, painting them with his pre-cum. My mouth was closed and he positioned his dick centered on my mouth, his cock resting gently on my lower lip. Looking me in the eyes, he slowly pushed my head down his cock, my lips parting as I took him inside me for the first time.
His cock tasted peculiar, at first, salty, sweat combined with the pleasantness of skin. His cockhead was like velvet on my tongue as he withdrew his initial thrust and I tongued around the head. My hands had made their way to his hips, helping me to feel and predict his inward and outward movement. I used my tongue on his head, his shaft, swirling, tickling, flicking and teasing. His initial thrusts were slow and not particularly deep. He was testing me out, giving me a chance to adjust to my new task.
This close to him, his smell was overwhelming and the sensations of my tongue on his cock as it explored the roof and sides of my mouth were too much. I closed my eyes and lived the experience, enjoying delivering the acts I had been so conflicted about. My mouth was like a holster for his cock, made to fit. As our coupling continued, his thrusts got deeper, causing me to gag once or twice. When he would near my throat, I would steel myself, trying to allow him access. And as he neared my throat, he would groan in pleasure as his cock explored new territory.
"Take my cock. Take it in your mouth. Take it in your throat. You were born to suck me and you're pretty fucking good at it for a beginner." His forays into my throat were getting more frequent, and my control was increasing. For a moment, I opened my eyes and looked up at him. His face was like I had never seen it before. Head thrown back, eyes pressed tightly shut as if in concentration. His chest was rising and falling quickly as his breath rate increased. His moans were becoming more frequent.
"Suck me, cocksucker. Take a real man's cock." He quickly thrust in farther than he had ever been, holding me on his cock briefly, my nose tickled by his pubes as he fully buried his prick in my mouth. "To the root, fucker. You've sucked me to the root. I love your fucking mouth. Yeah!" And with that, he withdrew briefly before longdicking my mouth again. This set up a new pattern which built in intensity until he was almost slamming his thighs to my face, giving me the fuck he had promised.
"Get ready. Get ready to take my cum you motherfucker. I'm going to cream your mouth and I want you to hold it. Are you ready? Here it fucking cums," he stopped with his cockhead just inside my mouth resting on my tongue and I felt the first jet of cum on the roof of my mouth, cascading down the sides, bathing my tongue just in time for the next jet to follow. Steve's thrusts were stacatto, short little jabs punctuated by a grunt and a jet of sperm which quickly began to fill up what little space was left in addition to his cockhead.
After he had finished shooting, he held on to my head, his slowly deflating cock still in my mouth, submerged in the load he had just deposited. His breathing was heavy and shallow at the same time. I gripped his thighs afraid he would fall. Slowly, he firmed his stance, opened his eyes and looked down at me, still attached by the mouth to his cock, gripping his muscular legs, and trying to meet his gaze.
"I'm going to pull out of your mouth now. Are you still holding my cum?" I tried to shake my head yes. "Good. Here goes," and he slid his cockhead out of my mouth. Although my lips captured much of it, bits of his slimy cum stuck to the head along with my saliva. "Look up at me and open your mouth. I want to see my load." I tilted my head back and opened my mouth carefully. His seed was slighly nutty, really salty and quickly losing its consistency and charm. "Okay. You can swallow it now," he said and smiled at me.
I closed my mouth and swallowed once, twice, three times and still I could feel bits of his cum clinging to the planes of my mouth. "That's a good cocksucker. But what are you forgetting." Steve reached down and stepped one leg and then the other into his shorts, pulling them up over his beautiful, now deflated dick.
"You forgot to say thank you."
"Thank you, Steve. I'm glad you let me suck you." I said honestly. It was easier to say this time.
"Don't worry about it. Your shorts say everything," he said pointing to the large wet spot in my trunks where I had clearly cum while I was blowing him. "That's the sign of a true fag. Doesn't even need to touch himself. Cums from a cock in his mouth or ass. Well, we'll see if that last part is true later." And with that, Steve turned and started to walk back towards the road.
If you'd like the story to continue, email me at matthew_lake@yahoo.com