Following the extreme turn of events, I felt a tumult of feelings that ranged from fear, anxiety, despair and dread to a secret sense of joy & relief. I couldn't grapple with the fact of what had happened, and as the days passed since my romp with Brandon, my roommate, it seemed life was returning to normal. Sure, things were fucked up. I had fucked the one of the hottest, most desired seniors on campus right in his mouth until I had blown the hugest load of my life right down the Italian pretty boy's throat. That wasn't the easiest reality to swallow, but just thinking about it during the day at class or upon waking, or seeing Brandon coming in and out of the dorm room, caused me now my dick to fatten and swell. It was getting painful and inconvenient.
Somehow I was afraid Brandon would say something, which didn't make any fucking sense. But Brandon had only been turned fag by force. Maybe I had been provoked and seduced myself, and needed it, but it was Brandon's popularity and persuasion to control the group's sense of reality that worried me initially. He could have claimed anything. That I raped him. That he caught me with another guy. That he saw me beating off to porno. I could exactly counter any of the charges with truth, if he had done so, because it would have meant only ensuring everyone including my girlfriend (who I was back with) that in fact yes, I was a huge homo. But the terror of him opening his mouth to anyone quickly subsided. Weeks passed. Everything seemed to go back into a smooth surface of routine. We waved, chit chatted, talk about the same bullshit. I mean don't get me wrong. Things were awkward and retained a somewhat obvious chilliness. Our conversations were short, to the point and compulsively nonserious.
Before when my girlfriend had came into the room, Brandon would be oblivious. But now I noticed that he always had an excuse or somewhere to go whenever she showed up, as if he didn't need to interrupt us. I couldn't make sense of it. Was he pissed I was with a girl and couldn't stand it, or trying to give me a hint that he wanted me as "serviced" as possible? I didn't know how exactly to make sense of what had come between us. Best buddy roommates who had one wild night and now were reduced to ghosts to one another. The emotions were conflicting for a while. I was relieved that things had passed and would never resurge. I was lonely and aching that Brandon had looked on things only as some sort of perverse truth-or-dare game that went too far.
About two weeks after it had happened, the only semi-related comment from Brandon came about how for our own sake we had better not drink too much together. It came out of left field and didn't seem to be said with any lurking intent. But it left me crazy. Did he think I was a monster, a rapist, a pervert? Was he really straight and I had shown myself to be a molester? All these thoughts pulsed through my veins and strangled my mind. And, dark as it was, my hunger grew quiet and subterranean and somehow much more violently sure of itself. I wanted Brandon. Naked, spread-eagle, with his slender legs like isles opening up for me to plough right between. I wanted the most desirable thing about him beside his pretty mouth that I had already dunk my huge dick into, which left my dick with a special glow during all my wet dreams and jerk-off fantasies. The gayest of my gayest desires, to slap my dick all around the hole of his asshole, to reach around and fondle his balls and dick and hear him moan and whimper and squeal like a little pussy, and slowly, licking his olive manpussy, to cram every morsel of my throbbing dick right up his ass over and over again, until he would crumple and melt into my arms and beg me to just demolish his ass. I couldn't stop thinking about it, and everytime I caught him in any position remotely resembling a pose to be fucked, I had to look away. I felt I was so evil and disgusting. I wanted to fuck my buddy up the same place he took shits. It was twisted and wrong of me and perverse. But everything that had happened like a wild dream since I had fucked his mouth left me aching and hungering for a more secure and a more warm place to shove my stuff. My cock and balls were begging me. I told myself: just wait and hold out. School will finish quickly, then you'll get the fuck out of UConn and try not to look back. I was even telling myself I could leave with my identity of masculinity and heterosexuality in tact if things well.
It's funny how intimacy, secretive and taboo between two males can alienate whatever rapport and sense of trust you have rather than strengthen it. I didn't have anymore idea of Brandon's sexuality or his desire for me than before that night that was haunting me. If anything, only more questions and distance opened up between us. It was hanging down my neck. And then... of all things, I could fuck my girlfriend normally. All the time. It wasn't exactly what I would jerk myself off to, but the contact and sense of penetration felt easy where before it was always forced and a combination of long foreplay and alcohol. She couldn't have been happier, and started claiming that our problems and been because of "depression" which she read in some stupid articles that athlete guys like me go through without externalizing at all. What a twit she could be, clueless to the last.
As the days continued to pass, my disposition lightened and everything stream-lined into a easier and more relaxed me. School was going great. The team had done well to secure it's line in the play-offs. My friends were all pretty much on the up-and-up themselves, and Brandon himself even claimed he was starting to see some off-campus girl. Whatever it was, made me happy.
And then, everything changed. One weekend I went away to visit my family in Providence. It was a short ride from UConn. By Friday night I had had enough of the bickering my father and step-mother went through and returned late that night on a bus. As I was coming around to my dorm window from outside, I could see the lights somewhat on but all the blinds turned down and the curtains semi-drawn closed. This was surely odd. The entire year Brandon and I had occupied the room never once had the curtains been semi-pulled over, let alone the blinds turned so fully shut you could not see at all into the room. And it clicked in my mind: Brandon was getting his game on, of course. The off-campus girl, he was fucking her.
I didn't know what to feel. Betrayed? Happy in some weird way for him? Relieved? Panicky? It didn't make sense. He had spent his whole life pretty much locked away in his own looks and closed off from any meaningful sexual encounter as far as I was concerned, and he here was, scoring ass while I was supposedly away for two days.
I huddled up outside the window and listened as hard as I could. Little did the fucker know that the latch on the window never worked properly, and we were one of the few dorms that had a window were the tab seal was snapped and you could drag open the glass ever so slightly if you wanted to. And so I did so, quietly and sweating a bit from the fear I would interrupt him and grab a lot of heat. It wouldn't make sense if I who was supposed to be away visiting family was now outside our very dorm room past midnight listening to him get his grove on. Matter of fact, it probably would have seemed more fucked up and harder to explain (I know this doesn't sound believable) then the night Brandon gave me, or well, I forced him to give me head. Whatever the case, I listened and hear a male and woman's voice. Definitely Brandon, definitely his chick. They were giggling and someone was semi-moaning. Sounded kinda kinky. I was totally turned on and felt the hugest boner in my life in my pants. I listened harder and more closely.
"I'm gonna spank you. You're my bitch. You fucking hot stud."
So even with his chick he was into weird, dominating sexual shit. It figured. I peeped open one of the blinds ever so slightly, afraid any minute even in the pitch-black dark someone was gonna recognize me peeping and discover me but with one of my hands ever so slightly on my bulge in my pants, how could I refuse a look?
I saw a chick with long darkish hair bobbing up and down on Brandon's dick and he was moaning ever so lowly. Seemed to me enjoying it. From what I could tell, he was totally naked and ... and hand-cuffed to the bottom bunk! I had to admit, it was totally hot. I couldn't really see his face clearly from the angle, but god, that was him, locked up to the bunk, laying on his back and totally gorgeous, his beautiful dark brown skin glowing ever so carefully from the small desk lamp that was turned off to the side and barely offered a glimpse into the dark room. It was hot, I was ready to cream right then and there. She was totally servicing him like a professional. She --
Karen! What? My mind raced and I pulled away from the window and tried to pretend I hadn't seen what I had just seen. Karen, my girlfriend, my fucking girlfriend, that stupid little slut and piece of shit was going down on my roommate. Brandon. That cocksucking little twerp! How could she fall for his shit. My mind raced like a fucking suicide bomber and tried to make sense of everything. I told myself I could have been wrong but then it clicked, her voice, the hand-cuffs (which she had begged me to use once ten or so months ago but I declined) and everything. Everything that I had interpreted as going on between Brandon and me now suddenly took a much darker and cynical shape in my mind.
Whatever tension I had honestly felt between us was nothing more than him hungry for my girlfriend's pussy. The comments about my dick size. Her needing another guy. Even the whole come on about teaching me how to get head out of her, and here he was on my fucking bed while I was away locked up in hand-cuffs getting my girlfriend deepthroat his Italian cock. I wanted to puke, blow up, rage, kill someone. I felt like a knife had been twisted ever so slightly by both of them in my back. One, because I trusted and felt emasculated by my girlfriend. And two, because I lusted and loved in some what Brandon, and he had effaced any ideas or hope that he was going through some secret psychological drama that meant anything to do with me. I felt even more angry because this meant in fact I had been the one to force sex on him, and rather than making me feel comforted because he was stabbing me in the back and at least I had blasted his mouth and tongue and teeth with man-seed, it made me feel so guilty and downright unmanly.
"Fuck!" I kept screaming as I turned the corner of the building and sped up my pace to get into the building. I stayed outside our dorm suite for minutes trying to listen but hearing nothing. No one else was around, not the other guys that lived around us, it was all so quiet in the hall and quiet in my room where my girlfriend was giving Brandon Corso head. I couldn't even add up the thousands of ways in which I felt abused, betrayed and monstrous.
I walked down the hall to the public bathroom and stood in there for what felt like an eternity staring in the mirror and pacing up and down the lanes along the stalls trying to figure out what to do. "Think you stupid shit, think," I kept telling myself. But nothing would happen. Confronting them would only in a way prove how desperate and destroyed I was. And there was no possibility of revenge if I didn't have proof of what had happened. Just then as I was looking at myself and about to start crying, I heard a shuffling outside the bathroom and quickly moved around to the other side of the large sink, the side that was not facing the door and blocked by the huge slab of marble and mirror.
Someone had come in and opened one of the large handi-cap stalls and go in. I grew curious and suspicious for whatever reason. I figured there was a slight chance for some reason it could have been Brandon and now I could confront him and beat the ever-loving shit out of him. I walked around to one side of the handi-cap stall, and peered ever so quickly to see if I could see in. The stall wasn't normal, it was very often a place where a lot of the guys would mess around. Whoever had designed it had placed the lock on the outside of the door, and it was common that some guy would get pushed into it as he was coming out of the showers and locked until someone else decided to let him in. It hadn't happened in a while but when it did it was hilarious to see. I looked in, and I couldn't believe it, it was Karen, my girlfriend. I immediately on instinct shut the door and locked it from the outside. She began screaming and banging on the door, pleeing and begging for whatever "Sick fuck" had shut the door to open it up before she called the cops. Like I could give a shit. I hoped the bitch rotted in hell. I went over to the sick where the radio was kept and slowly turned the volume on just loud enough to blanket her screams from inside the stall, figuring as long as no one went into the bathroom to notice her persistent banging, I was safe. It was a Friday night. No one was going to waltz in most likely. And none of the few people that might have been around could have heard her banging from outside the bathroom with the radio volume on the rock station blaring just loud enough.
My thoughts took on precision and clarity and I raced out of the bathroom back to my room to encounter the one person I really wanted to face down, in the flesh. Brandon. What the fuck had he done.
I opened the door slowly, unassumingly and saw the lights were even darker than I remembered from when I was peering from outside the window. I could hear his snickering as soon as I got in the room, and gazed over at him ass-naked on my bed with his hands locked to the bed-posts and his own sizable dick rigid as fuck slapped up against his chiseled and perfect abdomen. He was blindfolded and grinning and expected Karen obviously.
"I'm ready for some more loving." It was odd how unnatural his voice sounded, but I figured things couldn't have been exactly normal. Here he was fucking his roommate's girl, the roommate who had shoved his dick down his throat no less.
I stared at him for a few seconds, and he was just humming. I could see a few empty wine bottles at the foot of the bed. As I edged closer, I could see sweat on his face and beaded across his upper lip. Karen's clothes were all over the floor: her bra, jacket, purse, underpants.
He was so exposed and vulnerable and he didn't even know it. It just clicked in my head. The hottest piece of shit on this campus by far was handcuffed to my bed, with a blindfold on, probably drunk with his knees spread apart and his not so long as thick dick hugging his fatless belly. I was so suddenly calmed and in awe, all my rage and violent thoughts evaporated. I realized I was standing in awe. I was totally hard. I couldn't stop looking in perfect worship of his immaculate body. The idea of the handcuffs, it just climaxed everything times ten.
He was whispering or moaning: "C'mon..." and then his short breath would break for a chuckle and snorting of air, "I'm over here. Over here."
As I saddled next to the bed, the smell of wine was intense. They had drank a lot of fucking booze for this little romp. Nice to see it hadn't destroyed Brandon's libido. He was such a cruel brat for cheating on me, but he was sexier. His small, compact and tight body was the most gorgeous thing I had ever gazed on in my entire life.
I unbuttoned my pants and took a second look to see all the loud, red marks that were imprinting across his ass as he pulled up his legs a bit more and let them back down. She really had been spanking him and pretty hard.
I edged onto the bed and heard him half-slur "Alright, come on, show me a rough fuck."
I took up the board they must have been using and brushed his knees apart really quickly, he immediately pulled up his legs and I slapped at his perfect tush in one hard quick strike. His threw his blindfolded head up in a moan of pure delight. I kept noticing it, there it was, my heaven. His small bud among ever so slight-clumps of hair, his hidden bud behind his perfectly rounded and luscious, sleek ass-cheeks.
After a few more slaps to get his attention he actually squealed. As my shoes were off I pulled off my socks and laid them on the bed next to me. Then licking my left hand I immediately threw it up around his crack and started wiggling my fingers in and around the crevice of his asshole. He was writhing in passion and heat and the sweat kept plumping the side of his temples and cheeks. He was not really emitting too much noise, but it was clear, he was whimpering and moaning and sighing and not too attentive (How could he had have been?) to what was happening or who was doing it. No matter how much he had drunk, he was horny, loose and ready for some kinky sex. I knew I couldn't just undress and fuck him, but I had to show him a lesson.
Immediately as I go fully onto the bed and leaned my body around him I reached out with one of my hands to caress his abdomen and chest and played with his nipples. He kept whispering "Karen... Karen... Karen..." This fucker had no idea and I couldn't give a shit. Some god was naked on my bed and senseless with sex-pleasure and I was going to do for a little while whatever I could to get a reaction out of him and exploit the situation completely in my favor.
My right hand kept moving in playful circles around his chest and tweaking his nipples while my wet left hand that had toyed with the walls and radius of his ass moved up towards his ballsack and I almost lost it with my own pleasure and frenzy. Here I was fondling the most vulnerable parts of the hottest boy-toy on campus. I was in heaven. I was crazy in pleasure. I was actually thanking at this point Karen for cheating on me, for my parents having fought to bring me back home, for her have going into the stupid stall, for fate for allowing me this rare pleasure, to come to close almost to everything I wanted and lusted after ever since I had met Brandon Corso. I kept playing with his ballsack like I was exploring the pleasure of the human form and flesh for the very first time, like a total child. He was clueless as to whose hands these were and just moaning, I kept looking how pouty and pretty and gorgeous his head all shaking on its neck like a pretty flower on a stem, not able to see anything, but thrashing a bit from all the pleasure he had never really had.
I then took off my shirt as the hulk of my form hovered over his suspended and tied down body. I ripped off my shirt and threw it on the floor. I peeled off my undershirt. My muscles felt all the sensation of the hot, charged air coat them. I kept telling myself Brandon's wine-scented breath was ever-so-slightly present. How far could I go? I told myself in five minutes I would stop, get out of the room, let Karen out of the bathroom, and run the fuck out of there pretending the whole time as I had stayed away that weekend. But the session got hotter and hotter, Brandon was moaning and in heat and it seemed ready to blow a huge boy load and let all his sex out and frank.
My huge dick was really grating up against the zipper of my jeans. It needed out. My leg muscles and my calves, my whole body was a million degrees and ready to just plunge and leap onto Brandon's limp and pure sexy body and ravage him. But I resisted, I had to. I wasn't about to fuck a guy. Not even the guy of my dreams. I couldn't. I couldn't rape anyone, and that's what it would be I figured. But a part of me was slowly, at least, convincing myself that even if he couldn't see it was me, he loved my touch and was responding to me. Just me. In a sort of mystical trance of sex and contact and response to counter-response.
I leaned my face right next to his without touching his face. My cheek hung next to his and I turned my nose against his hair and inhaled deeply as I could. His male-boy-scent was driving me nuts. I had the hugest dick growing in my pants and it needed out. I told myself to restrain. I kept just being overwhelmed, my body was like a coal consumed my flames, until the flames kept stinging and wrapping me deeper and deeper into the fire just reached into me fully and my holy body glowed in submission to my desires.
I smelled his armpits, his biceps, his nipples, his neck. I kissed and playfully grazed my lips and mouth over his perfect flesh. My hands couldn't do anything as they were supporting me from collapsing on him which would give it away. His arms couldn't do anything either. I pulled up from my trance and idolatry and dream.
It was perfect. This was enough. I didn't need sex or anything. This was too much. I controlled myself and stopped for a second and breathed heavily, and calmly, forcing myself to not be too overwhelmed to do something stupid or fall down on him so he'd know who I was. That would have been the end of it. Any second I feared Karen would come back in the room and destroy my paradise.
I took both my hands over the thick circumference of his cock and started hijacking it off his stomach and pushing it in firm thick strokes down and up and down until the mushroom head of his dick was bobbing and his whole body was twisting and writhing in pleasure and his lips were twisting and his knees were piercing into my sides but I couldn't stop. He kept breathing hard, almost squealing: "aaah, aaah, aaaah..."
It was so fucking intense. I was sweating beads of pure salt onto his chest. My body was on fire. His body was on fire. The fucking energy in the room could have burnt the fucking dormitory down.
I pulled back away from him again and realized he was too drunk to perhaps notice how odd it would be if I moved around taking off my clothes, surely most of Karen's were off, but he might not realize what the body movements on the squeaking bed were referring to anyway. Maybe she had re-dressed partly when she went into the stall.
I lowered my mouth within in an inch of his dick and began lapping it up. I just engulfed it and sucked it down like it was a fucking cream sunday. My lips and mouth went over the sides, tracing the big thick vein and then each nut and I made a holy science out of giving this studling head. I then just let my lips part and I sucked up and down on his dick so hard I could hear his hed backing back against the pillows and his hips pistoling at a rocket's pace up into my mouth. It went on this way for minutes as I let one of my hands go waywardly towards his ass and started playing with the tense outside of his asshole, until finally his squirming body relented a bit and I shoved the pointer-finger right into his hole and started pushing mercilessly forward. This sent his totally hay-wire body into overdrive and it seemed his cock expanded from all the attention. He moaned something slightly. Ever-so slightly. "...Derek... Derek..." I could have swarn he said it. Whatever the case was it made me go wild, whether he realized he was doing it or not, I knew he doubted it was actually me pleasuring him, but in his mind, that's who he wanted, it was obvious, it all made sense, our passion was so intense, my eyes were watering, ever gland and sensible part of my body was loose and sweating and pouring off scent and heat and breath and I was going crazy in delight and my heart was pounding a marathon of love and terror.
As my cockhead flopped out of my underpants, I scooted them down to my knees and pulled off form his dick, which glistened up against his torso again thicker than ever, I spread his raised knees apart like I was coming upon the holy of holies, and I just let my mouth devour his asshole. Letting my tongue jag and dart and lick and suck at his hole mercilessly. He was thumping and humping into my face wildly. I knew I was approaching a line I couldn't cross. If I kept this up, I was going to try to penetrate my roommate. "Stop" came across my mind like a pure knife in the mist of so much sex, so much heat, so much sensory overload. I knew inserting my ol cock that was aching and looked like a foot at this rate was certain doom. It would rouse him and somber him up and even if he wanted it, it was too big of a risk.
I pulled back. I was panting like a monster. I let one of my hands hover over his asshole, his entryway, his manpussy and flower-hole. It was tight and musky and all the little hairs were slicked over with my spit. I needed to keep some presence there while I was gathering my thoughts.
"Touch it, touch it, touch it..." his breath was so slurring his words, but I could understand him. As one of my hands was on his ass, the other was stroking my own dick like no-tomorrow and I realize I had the hugest boner I could ever recall, with my own heart-beat causing the dickhead to bob by its own accord up and down. What the fuck was I going to do? I can't fuck this kid. I can't. But my whole body was begging me, compelling me towards his virgin ass that was so moist and vulnerable and hot on my own sheets and bedspread in the dark.
He was moaning and squealing, in a low hum but persistent. This was pleasing him more perhaps than it was pleasing me, which seemed impossible. This was my fantasy. I kept stroking my hand which was wet over my dick and let my other hand hug up against his crack and I stared and stared at his face. I figured I would spray all over his body and that would be enough. I kept jacking it at the fastest possible ever to just be over with it and give in to the orgasm. This was too much to withhold at this point. And then it just came over me like a spell I had to kiss him.
I leaned forward and let my dick graze over his dick and kissed him, and he kissed back, surprisingly, long and full and with our tongues mingling as our cocks grazed together and humped. His hips kept lurching off the bed, and this was causing his dick to throw its weight against mine, which turned me on totally, I didn't mind blowing my load this way, or his. What the hell was I doing? These were the best feelings in my life.
As we kissed and our dicks grinded together, I let my knee graze back up and forth against his asscheeks, and he was meeting my knee in the strangest of rhythms, as our lips parted and I buried my face into his neck, he whispering for more and I couldn't understand what he was saying. Finally I lowered a hand a put a wet finger into his asshole and let it go further than I had before. His hips pushed and pushed against my finger. This was too hot. I was going to lose it.
"More!"
What more could the fucking kid ask of me.
"What more do you want" I muttered in the sweat and grind and slick of our bodies mashing and bending and humping up against one another. And then suddenly his slender legs climbed my raging naked sweaty body and scissorred themselves above my waist in a strong knot. As I tried to lean and shake him away not sure what he wanted or was doing I relaxed and brought my body down to the bed, as his legs lowered my dick and balls fell away from his dick and passed between his legs and now my eight inch monster was poking right up against his ass-crack and leaking pre-cum like leaky faucet that was ready to spew some serious man-cum.
He untwisted his legs from my chest and kept his knees folded up, but totally spread apart, allowing for my body to lay inbetween his body and for my cock to rest, hungry and tugging at his ass cheeks.
"More you slut."
I can't. I can't fuck this kid. I leaned forward and let my body lay against his as my cock continued to lay ever-so-slightly between his ass cheeks, it felt like it was the warmest and safest place any part of my body had ever resided in my entire life. I won't do this, I told myself. It's wrong.
"Please... Derek... please."
With my lips against his neck sighing and moaning to hear my name in the middle of all this sex, I reached my hands below to squeeze his ass-cheeks and ever so slightly apart and finally my cockhead found the entryway to his asshole. Lifting my hands onto his hips and pushing down, my large cockhead applied a lot of pressure to his ass-bud and I knew if I kept this up any second I was going to just do it, let myself go, and penetrate Brandon, and finally have what I wanted. I kept grazing my cock against his asshole, and then, with one sure thrust, it was in, I knew it was inevitable, I couldnt stop it, and it felt like it was the greatest glove and warm mouth even tigher than Brandon's mouth covered my cock and I was in, with my cock inching in, slowly and surely, my pubic hair grazing the soft black curly tufts of his ass. This was it. I was in. No going back. No going back. I'm gonna cum in Brandon's ass. Make him my bitch. My slave. My lover. My lover. I paused and breathed deeper than I ever have in my life. I moved my motuh up towards his face, and I could barely see in the dark large globs of sweat that looked like tears strolling down from his eyes and side of his temples as he moaned and moaned and I started ever-loving fuck out of his puny ass just as I always wanted it, lusted it, craved it, needed it, jacking my man-cock into his boy-ass mercilessly like a fucking animal or creature consumed by his desires.
"O fuck! O fuck! O fuck!" I moaned as he moaned and moaned and moaned as my dick raced to the hilt of his boy ass in and out, in and out and my hot liquid filled up the walls of his ass and we sighed and panted and yet again, for the second time in two months, I collapsed on Brandon in the dark, more contented than I had ever been with any woman.