This is part 2 of my adventures with my hunky straight roommate Brad. Email me at lukex@sumdimension.com
I was Brad's regular cocksucker for about 6 months, until he went away for about a week in December. The morning he was leaving, he came into my room as I was sleeping and climbed on my bed, straddling me while I slept. Just as I began to wake up, he forced his dick in my mouth, so my first sensation of the day was the taste of his cock. My eyes opened to see Brad's naked, gorgeous chest above me, and him looking down at me with a wicked smile on his face. "Breakfast in bed, cocksucker," he said, pulling my head up and down over his dick. I sucked him for a few minutes and then he pulled out and slid his body down until his chest was at my face. He cradled my head in his hands and pulled it towards his beautiful nipple, where I sucked and licked, My own cock got rock hard underneath the blankets. I sucked on his two nipples for a while until he said, "alright, faggot, finish the job" and pulled back up, flopping his still-hard dick in my face. I sucked it in, and he ! jerked himself as i sucked him, his hand slapping up against my face as he jerked half while I sucked half. In just a minute or two, he shot his wad in an explosive burst that coated the back of my throat. "Swallow it down, cocksucker, drink up your man's juice," he said, and I complied.
Brad got off me and stood by the side of the bed for a minute. He was completely naked, which was a special treat for me - normally he kept all or most of his clothes on while I blew him - so I eyed his gorgeous body hungrily, my own cock still throbbing under the sheets. "I'll be gone for eight days," he said. "That means when I get back I'll have lots of loads for you, so you better be able to take them all."
"I'll be waiting," I said.
"Good cocksucker," he replied and walked out.
I jerked myself off (it took me all of about 60 seconds to come, the fresh taste of Brad's cum in my mouth) and got ready for work. I saw Brad again in the kitchen, getting ready to leave, and we said goodbye again, the way any two roommates would. I shook my head, amazed at the way we practically maintained two entirely separate relationships.
But a week later, when Brad returned, things were different. I was in my room reading when I heard his key in the door, and I was hungry for cock. I hadn't masturbated the entire week, anticipating Brad being extra horny. I put on my kneepads and went out into the living room.
Brad had dropped his bags on the floor and plopped down on the couch. He was wearing a tight-fitting ribbed sweater that prominently dislayed his curved pecs and flat stomach, and a pair of jeans. I eyed the bulge in his crotch hungrily.
Brad looked over at me with a blank expression, not saying anything. I moved towards him and kneeled on the floor before him. "Welcome back," I said, reaching up to undo his jeans.
"No, don't," he said.
I ignored him and started to unbutton his fly. He pushed me away, hard, knocking me to the floor. "I said don't," he said, and got up and stormed into his room.
I didn't really know what to make of this, so I just hung back and waited to see what would happen. I didn't make another move, expecting that he would come in, grab me, and make his usual demand for a blow job. I began actually wearing the kneepads whenever he was home, to make sure he understood that I was ready when we was, but nothing.
I couldn't believe it - had my luck really run out? Once I tried to talk to him about it, but he wouldn't discuss it, just kept shaking his head saying nothing no matter what I said.
One day when I heard him coming up the walk, I kneeled down in the living room just inside the door, kneepads on, with my hands behind my back, my eyes closed and my mouth open. (This was "the position," as Brad called it, and I knew he liked it when I did it because it showed that I was completely his, at his service. Mouth open, eyes closed, hands behind your back, I knew how it looked - like I was just a place for him to dump his cum. And, really, that's what I was. But, hey, sucking a hot stud, especially one who's agressive with me, is just what I like. So it suited me just fine. I'm not sure Brad really realized it, but I was using him for my pleasure as much as he was using me.) But when he entered, he paused before me. With my eyes closed, I could feel him standing just two feet in front of me, but instead of shoving his dick in my open, waiting mouth, he just walked around me. I was defeated.
"Wait," I said, turning around.
"What?" he asked, still facing the other way.
"Why? Why don't you want it anymore? Just tell me."
"Cause...cause it's just..." he trailed off.
I waited for an answer. He wasn't saying anything, but he wasn't leaving either. And I just waited.
It didn't happen. For the next two weeks, no blow jobs. I began to think it would never happen again, and for the first time things were awkward between us. I thought maybe it was time for us to stop living together.
Then, one night, Brad came home really late. I was in bed, asleep, when he stumbled into my room, flicking on the light. "You sleeping, cocksucker?" he shouted, really loud. "Get your faggot ass up!"
He was drunk. I was sleepy, so I just rolled over away from him. "What are you doing, cocksucker?" he slurred. "Time to eat some dick." He reached over me and grabbed me, trying to pull me off the bed. I resisted, but he was much stronger. Even though he was drunk, he was still able to overpower me, but of course I wasn't fully resisting because there wasn't ever a time that I didn't want his dick.
"All right, faggot, get down there," he shouted. He was having a little trouble standing up, but by this point had managed to mostly pull me off the bed and onto the floor. I pushed away at him, pushing against his stomach, while he tried to position me on my knees. I pushed on his legs and reached up to push him back against his chest.
"Knock it off, queer, keep your hands down there," he said, but I didn't listen. "You fucking stop that and blow me or I'll make you stop," he said, and I wasn't sure if he was actually getting a little angry. But I didn't stop; in fact, I leaned over and grabbed both his legs and, because he wasn't expecting it, I was able to pull him down to the floor. We fell to the floor in a tumble, and I tried scrambling away, but he reached out with his arms and grabbed me around the chest. I wasn't wearing a shirt, and the feeling of his strong arms across my nipples caused my cock to stir.
"What the fuck!" he shouted. "All right, fag, that's enough." I was trying to stand up but he grabbed hold of me and with a mighty heave brought me down on the floor with him. We wrestled for a minute and then he turned me over so I was face down, and he straddled me. He was facing my feet, and he used his strong muscular legs to hold down my arms at my sides, so I was immobilized facing the floor. "Cocksucker's not going to behave, huh?" I heard him taking off his belt. "We'll see about that."
I started to kick my legs wildly and even got him once in the face. Then he grabbed my legs and held them down with one hand while he wrapped the belt around my ankles. He wrapped it several times and then buckled it closed and right away I knew I wouldn't be able to wriggle my feet free.
Then Brad stood up and I immediately reached for the belt he'd tied my legs with. But just as quickly he was on me, "Oh, no, you don't" he said, and again he turned me over onto my stomach. This time he pulled my arms back behind me and leaned his weight against me to pin them there. I saw him reach for a tie lying on the floor (I was sometimes a little lax about straightening my room), and in a minute he had tied by hands together behind my back - tight. I tried to break free but no matter how much I stuggled I couldn't.
Brad stood up, breathing heavy. I was still on my stomach, and he put his foot under my stomach and rolled me over onto my back, my hands still behind me. "So now what are you going to do, cocksucker?" he said. I looked up at him standing over me, wearing a tight T-shirt that exposed the gorgeous muscles of his chest and a pair of faded blue jeans that fit his hunky body perfectly. He looked down and saw my huge erection through my boxers.
"So, the faggot likes this, doesn't he? He likes being tied up, huh?" Brad laughed a little. It was true, the wrestling and being tied up had gotten me very hot; my dick was practically bursting. Now Brad knew this too.
He sat down on the bed, and then leaned over and took off his socks. "You're gonna try and take me? I don't think so," he said. Then he stuffed his foot in my face. "Lick my foot, faggot," he said, pressing the sole of his foot down on my mouth. I reached out with my tongue and licked his foot, stretching to reach as much of his foot as I could. He placed his other foot on my bare chest. "You like licking your stud's foot, don't you faggot?" he asked, as he started sliding his foot all over my face.
I kept licking his foot, and then felt him bring his other foot up my face as well, when he started to push his toes into my mouth. "Suck that down, homo," Brad said, laughing, "gotta get that mouth of yours ready to suck some dick." He pushed both his big toes into my mouth at once, and pressed down so they totally filled my mouth. He kept them in there for a moment or so, and then all at once lifted his feet away.
"Well, queer, time for me to get my rocks off," Brad said as he stood and then reached down and pulled me up, forcing me into a sitting position, with my back resting against the bed and my tied hands behind me. He moved in close to me, but my face was low so he had to lean in. "When I come in here to get my dick sucked, you get down on your cocksucker knees and do it," he said. He shoved his denim-covered crotch into my face, grinding his body into my face, pushing my head firmly against the bed. I could feel his dick growing under his jeans.
Brad unbuttoned his jeans and slowly pulled down his zipper. He pulled down his pants and underwear just enough to expose his hardening cock and his juicy balls. "Lick it", he commanded, holding his package out before me.
I licked his cock all over, slobbering it with my saliva. God, it tasted good after all these weeks. "Now lick my balls," he said, pulling up slightly and dropping his balls in my face. I licked one and sucked on it, pulling it into my mouth. then switched to the other and pulled it in. He stroked himself as I played with his balls, and his talk was nonstop. "Yeah, faggot, suck on those big balls. This stud's getting a big load ready to dump down your throat and on your cocksucker face. C'mon lick those balls like the greedy cocksucker you are. Alright, time to suck some dick. Take it, come on, take it all," he said as he plunged it all the way in my throat. "Swallow your man's dick, take a real man's cock down your throat, choke on it, yeah, choke on it." He was holding his rod all the way in, my nose was rammed into his crotch, and he held it for longer than ever before. I felt the tip of his cock deep in my throat and held out without gagging for as long as I c! ould. "Alright, cocksucker, you're gonna take it all. Time for a face-fucking." Brad positioned himself so that he was leaning pretty far over, using the bed for support. He turned my head to face up at his crotch and plunged his dick into my mouth. Then he started a steady rhythm of in and out, going deeper each time and pulling almost all the way out before pushing back in. "Yeah, I'm fucking your faggot face. Gonna work you over until I shoot my wad all over you, until you're drenched in my cum. Cause that's what a faggot is for - to get his cocksucker face fucked by a real stud." He really built up speed, fucking my mouth like crazy. He balls banged against my chin with each thrust. "Oh, yeah, cocksucker, this is it. Get ready to swallow my big load, cause I'm gonna shoot my hot sticky cum all over you, faggot. Oh, I'm cumming, queer, I'm fucking coming." And he pulled up and grabbed his dick with his right hand and my head with his left, yanking me by the ha! ir. He jerked his dick right into my face and I watched as it exploded. "Take that cum all over your cocksucker face," he shouted as his dick shot huge bursts of cum onto my lips and into my open mouth and over my cheeks and my nose and on my neck and in my hair. He keep shooting and shooting like he hadn't cum in weeks until I was covered by the sticky juice, and then he pulled my face in closer and rubbed all the cum over all my face with his dick, covering each inch with his semen. I was so overcome from the sensation of the face-fucking I just got, and his seed all over my face that I came myself, without (obviously) even touching my cock.
Finally he let go of my head and collapsed on the bed. For a minute neither of us said anything. He sat up, buttoning up his jeans, and then he noticed the dark patch on my boxers. "Well, faggot, you must have really liked that, huh? You're really into a face-fucking like that, tied up on the floor, a helpless cocksucker servicing his stud?"
"I don't--" I started to say, but he cut me off. "Quiet. Don't say anything. Just keep quiet," he said.
"No, I want to know--" I started to say back.
"Hey!" he shouted, getting up. "I said to keep quiet. You're still my cocksucker until I say we're through and if I want you to be quiet, you shut your mouth."
"Why should I--" I started to say, but then Brad interrupted me.
"Shut up, cocksucker. You only open your mouth when there's a dick ready for sucking, got it?" As he spoke, he leaned over and grabbed my robe from the floor. He unthreaded the soft cotton belt from my robe. "I guess I gotta make the faggot shut up," he said, as he pulled the soft belt across my mouth. He tied it tightly behind my head, gagging me completely. It was thick, so it filled my mouth pretty fully, and when I tired to talk only quiet murmurs came out.
"That's better," he laughed, standing staight up over me. "Cocksucker's always got to have his faggot mouth filled." I looked up at him from the floor where I lay; he was wobbling a little because he was so drunk.
Suddenly he turned and walked out. "Later, cocksucker," he said, laughing to himself, as he turned out the light and shut the door, leaving me tied up and gagged, his cum all over my face and hair.
For a while I just lay there, helpless. The smell of Brad's cum on my face was strong, and even though I stuggled to free myself or spit out the gag, I couldn't. Even drunk, he had done a masterful job of restraining me. So I just lay there, with a new hard-on, until eventually I fell asleep.
I woke up the next morning to silence in the house. I wasn't sure of the time, but I knew that he had come in very late, so it couldn't have been more than a few hours since he had been in my room. I didn't know where Brad was or how he would react to all this, sober and in the light of day. I didn't have long to wait. A few minutes later the door creaked open slowly, and Brad came in. He was wearing only a T-shirt, the same chest-hugging shirt he had on the night before, and his white jockeys. He looked a little dazed, and when he saw me on the floor, tied, gagged, and covered in his dried cum, he let out a gasp.
"Jesus," he said. "I guess I really did do it. Fuck." He moved towards me, and I wasn't sure what to expect. "I'm sorry, I'm really sorry," he said, as he kneeled down next to me. He reached around and untied my hands. I rubbed my wrists and forearms, which were sore from spending several hours tied behind me. "Shit," he said as he untied the gag around my throat, "are you okay?"
I nodded. "I'm fine," I said.
"No, I mean, with what I did to you last night? I never should have done that. That's it - no more of this stuff, ever again."
He started to reach down to untie my legs, but I grabbed his arm. Seeing him kneeling next to me in those skimpy briefs and that T-shirt that displayed his muscular chest so well had gotten me pretty hot and horny. I got down flat on the floor, on my stomach, propping myself up with my elbows so that my mouth was just below his crotch. I started to mouth his cock through his briefs, and even though he started to get hard he pulled back a little.
"What are you doing?" he asked.
I paused. "I'm answering your question," I replied.
Brad stood up, and I, again, looked up at him from where I lay on the floor.
"Okay, I get it," he said. "I get it." And he walked out.
And then, starting two days later, we were back to our routine. He never explained why he had stopped, and I didn't push it. I guessed that maybe something had happened while he was away that led him to feel guilty over our escapades, until his guilt was overcome by his desire, facilitated, of course, by the alcohol. I wondered about it, of course, and was a little suprised that he could be as unpredictable as he had been that night he tied me up. I wondered also if I had told him to stop if he would have. Even though he was drunk, and could get very agressive, I think he was still basically a decent guy, and if I had told him sincerely to stop I think he probably would have. But after that night, I couldn't really be sure.
Anyway, things were back to normal. (Well, our version of normal, anyway.) He would come find me whenever he wanted a blow job, which was just as often as it had been before, or yell at me from his room to get my kneepads and come in, or to "assume the position" and wait for him to come face-fuck me. He didn't try to tie me up again, though, and I wasn't sure why, but I kind of wanted him to. But I wasn't complaining - I was getting a full load of cum around once a day from a unbelievably hot stud who knew what he liked and knew how to take it. So that was fine with me.
Brad had always gone for the face-fucking, which I loved best, too, where he held my head firm and plunged his rock hard cock deep down my throat, totally controlling the blow job. Usually he fucked my mouth while I kneeled before him, or I sat in a chair while he stood over me until he eventually flooded my mouth or covered my face with his cum.
In the weeks that followed, though, he started to go for the more passive blow jobs, where he would just sit on the couch while I knelt before him. He usually clasped his hands behind his head, and let me do the work. I preferred it when he would hold my head firm and keep my hands away, but this was okay too. One good thing about this kind is that I would use my hands, not just to jerk his cock while I sucked him, but also sometimes to feel his hot bod. I would reach up under his T-shirt and caress and fondle his nipples and hard pecs while I sucked him, or sometimes I would run my hands all over his muscular legs. At first he didn't like having my hands on him so much--he'd say something like, "hands off, cocksucker, you just suck your stud's dick and keep your hands to yourself"--but after a few times he got over it. Either he liked having his bod caressed while he got his rod sucked, or he decided to let me do it cause I liked it. Whenever we did this kind of blow ! job he was always sitting down, so I never really got to fondle his ass, which I would have liked. Whatever.
One day, a few weeks later, we were driving to the city where he went to college. He had to go pick up some furniture and stuff he had let a friend use, because the friend was moving away. It was only a couple of hours away, so I went along to help with the move. In the car, he talked a lot about wanting his dick sucked, cause he hadn't had a blow job in several days. On the way, we took a break at a rest stop along the highway. While Brad took care of getting gas, I wandered inside. After checking out the newsstand and store where they sold cheap junk, I went into the restroom to take a piss. There was a humpy guy in there, standing at the last urinal. He looked up at me when I entered, but looked away immediately. He was tall and rugged looking, wearing faded black jeans and heavy work boots. I moved over to a nearby urinal just as he was zipping up and moving away.
I finished peeing and backed away, buttoning up my fly when I looked up suddenly and saw Brad standing right next to me. He grabbed me roughly and pushed me towards one of the stalls. I looked around nervously to see if anyone else was in the bathroom, and the hunky guy was still there, standing with his back to us at the sinks across the restroom.
I was too startled to really resist, though this time I probably would have. I didn't know what he was thinking, but this seemed really reckless. He pushed me inside the stall and sat me down roughly. "I can't wait anymore, faggot, I need my dick sucked," Brad said, not even whispering.
He pulled my head into his crotch and rubbed it against him for a minute. I reached up and pulled down his fly, and he yanked out his already hard cock, wagging it in my face. "Suck it," he said, pulling my head over his dick. I looked past him and saw the brown work boots just outside the stall door. The guy must have heard and come over. I sucked Brad off, hoping he would come quickly. "Oh, yeah, suck it, come on suck it you fucking cocksucker," Brad said. "Suck a real man's dick." It didn't take more than a couple of minutes and then Brad dumped his load in my mouth. He zipped himself up and I did the same, stuffing my now hard cock in my still open pants, since he had grabbed me before I had finished buttoning my fly.
I felt really nervous as Brad turned and opened the stall door. I hoped the restroom was empty, but as I followed Brad out I saw the guy standing in the corner. "Fags," the guy said, under his breath.
Brad looked over at him. "No, not fags, fag. One faggot cocksucker," he said, pointing at me, "who sucks dick. And, man, he knows how to give a blow job."
"That's fuckin' queer," the guy said, not sure what to think.
"Look, bud, I got me my own private cocksucker. He sucks me off whenever I want it - I just take it like I did now. You should get one. Hey," Brad said, suddenly, "you want a quick blow job from the cocksucker right now?"
I tensed up. Brad reached over for me, but I moved out of his reach. "You say the word, buddy, and this faggot'll kneel down and blow you. Get in the stall," he said, turning to me. I didn't move. "Get in the stall, cocksucker, sit down, and open your cocksucker mouth." I stood there, not sure what to do. I looked over at the guy; he was really hot, and I was still horny from blowing Brad a minute before. Should I do it? I stood there thinking about it when the guy suddenly just turned around and walked out, without a word.
Brad turned to me. "I thought you might like to suck off somebody else for once. No?"
"I, I don't know," I said back. "I'm a little nervous being in a restroom like this."
"Okay," Brad said.
"He was pretty hot, though," I replied, showing my ambivalence.
"Huh," said Brad. "Let's go, roomie." He put his hand on my neck and steered me toward the door.
One day, a few weeks later, we were driving to the city where he went to college. He had to go pick us some furniture and stuff he had let a friend use, because the friend was moving away. It was only a couple of hours away, so I went along to help with the move. In the car, he talked a lot about wanting his dick sucked, cause he hadn't had a blow job in several days. On the way, we took a break at a rest stop along the highway. While Brad took care of getting gas, I wandered inside. After checking out the newsstand and store where they sold cheap junk, I went into the restroom to take a piss. There was a humpy guy in there, standing at the last urinal. He looked up at me when I entered, but looked away immediately. He was tall and rugged looking, wearing faded black jeans and heavy work boots. I moved over to a nearby urinal just as he was zipping up and moving away.
I finished peeing and backed away, buttoning up my fly when I looked up suddenly and saw Brad standing right next to me. He grabbed me roughly and pushed me towards one of the stalls. I looked around nervously to see if anyone else was in the bathroom, and the hunky guy was still there, standing with his back to us across the restroom.
I was too startled to really resist, though this time I probably would have. I didn't know what he was thinking, but this seemed really reckless. He pushed me inside the stall and sat me down roughly. "I can't wait anymore, faggot, I need my dick sucked," Brad said, not even whispering.
He pulled my head into his crotch and rubbed it against him for a minute. I reached up and pulled down his fly, and he yanked out his already hard cock, wagging it in my face. "Suck it," he said, pulling my head over his dick. I looked past him and saw the brown work boots just outside the stall door. The guy must have heard and come over. I sucked Brad off, hoping he would come quickly. "Oh, yeah, suck it, come on suck it you fucking cocksucker," Brad said. "Suck a real man's dick." It didn't take more than a couple of minutes and then Brad dumped his load in my mouth. He zipped himself up and I did the same, stuffing my now hard cock in my still open pants, since he had grabbed me before I had finished buttoning my fly.
I felt really nervous as Brad turned and opened the stall door. I hoped the restroom was empty, but as I followed Brad out I saw the guy standing in the corner. "Fags," the guy said, under his breath.
Brad looked over at him. "No, not fags, fag. One faggot cocksucker," he said, pointing at me, "who sucks dick. And, man, he knows how to give a blow job."
"That's fuckin' queer," the guy said, not sure what to think.
"Look, bud, I got me my own private cocksucker. He sucks me off whenever I want it - I just take it like I did now. You should get one. Hey," Brad said, suddenly, "you want a quick blow job from the cocksucker right now?"
I tensed up. Brad reached over for me, but I moved out of his reach. "You say the word, buddy, and this faggot'll kneel down and blow you. Get in the stall," he said, turning to me. I didn't move. "Get in the stall, cocksucker, sit down, and open your cocksucker mouth." I stood there, not sure what to do. I looked over at the guy; he was really hot, and I was still horny from blowing Brad a minute before. Should I do it? I stood there thinking about it when the guy suddenly just turned around and walked out, without a word.
Brad turned to me. "I thought you might like to suck off somebody else for once. No?"
"I, I don't know," I said back. "I'm a little nervous being in a restroom like this."
"Okay," Brad said.
"He was pretty hot, though," I replied, showing my ambivalence.
"Huh," said Brad. "Let's go, roomie." He put his hand on my neck and steered me toward the door.
We picked up the furniture from the friend (he was really a hunk, an old teammate of Brad's, he had a natural masculinity and what looked like a real hot bod), and made our way back home.
to be continued...