BBC on Campus

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• My experiences are in everything I write, sometimes an image that I recall, sometimes much more. This story, however, is fiction. Any resemblance to actual events or persons, living or dead, is coincidental.

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BBC ON CAMPUS CHAPTER SIXTEEN – RENT BOI GETS A PIMP

I slept in the day after Max and I performed for Mr. Anderson, although for me that meant getting up at 7:00 a.m. rather than 5:00 a.m. It was Sunday, and with Westcliffe on Christmas break, I had nothing urgent. I woke up to see Max's clear blue eyes staring at me in the morning light. His look was a mixture of awe, lust and devotion.

I was unnerved to be in bed with the twink. When I set out to fuck all six of the rock climbers living in the old gas station below my room, I told myself that none of the college boys was going to be sleeping with me. Admittedly I had halfway broken that vow several times with Jesse, after the dance boy had been kicked out of his room because Travis had one of his girlfriends over. But I had always exiled Jesse well before it was time to get up. As I thought about it, Alex and Damian had spent the night, too, but those didn't seem to count because Damian had passed out and Alex was in my bed only because I wasn't done using his ass. But with Max, it felt like I had broken my rule, particularly because he seemed so happy to be where he was.

But Max was a damn good fuck. And the sudden availability of his tight ass had been good timing, too. The rest of the rock climbers were gone for Christmas break – hell, virtually every college student on campus had split – but I still had another week in town before heading to Chicago for the holidays. Max wasn't going anywhere for Christmas, not after his parents disowned him. That meant Max's lily white ass cheeks and tight hole would be available to host my cock over the coming week – the `cumming week' I thought with a smile. Between Travis, the straight party boy that loved getting stoned and dicked (in that order) and Jesse, the gay, auburn-haired dancer with the awesome, hard ass cheeks, the rock boys downstairs had offered up enough fuckable holes to keep my dick under control. My brief forays into Alex's, Sancho's and Damian's hard rock asses had been nice diversions, too. But the rock jocks were away for Christmas and it was looking like a long week, until Max's surprising request two days ago that I fuck him while Anderson watched.

I was still amazed that Max had carved out a hustling gig in a place like Westcliffe. He had the body for it and knew his way around a dick, but several things surprised me. To start with, I hadn't even been certain he was gay. Also, he didn't have the personality for hustling. But Max had been whoring all semester long and I had no clue. What stunned me most was that there were five guys in the small college town who would pay for gay sex, and Max had all of them as regulars. One had even taken Max to San Francisco over Thanksgiving. Kid could make some bad money whoring his ass if he put his mind to it.

Or, I thought as I stared at him, he could make some really bad money with my help and the help of my friends Austin and Benny.

I met Austin at the Harvard gym. It was among the cruisier places on campus – right up there with the men's room in the basement of the Science Center. My early morning gym schedule meant I missed most of the action, but I happened to spot Austin in the gym early one morning, blatantly checking me out. Mysteriously, he began showing up every morning.

Austin wasn't a typical Harvard student. He had essentially been on his own since he was halfway through high school, unlike most Harvard men whose parents were wealthy lawyers, doctors, businessmen – or just wealthy. He had a tight little body and a shock of reddish blond hair, along with alluring light blue eyes. More than anything it was his maturity that intrigued me. The kid had the street sense so lacking in most Harvard students.

After a couple of weeks of exchanging small talk at the gym, we both knew it was time. After working out, Austin slipped into an empty training room, looking back at me to make sure I knew to follow him. Inside, I squeezed my cock as I watched Austin slip his gym shorts over his narrow hips and pull his shirt over his head. He lowered himself on a workout bench, putting his legs in the air and wrapping them behind a weight bar so he could rock back and forth and hoist his ass into the air. He fingered his enticing, jock-strapped asshole, spitting in his hand and rubbing it into his hole. He never said a word, licking his lips and staring at me the entire time. But his eyes challenged me to take what he was offering, daring me to use him. Fuck! It was hot.

Austin knew why we were there and suffered none of the tentativeness and nervousness I found annoying in college boys. I stroked my cock to full mast and Austin pulled his ass crack apart, exposing a puckered, pink hole. I dropped a few gobs of spit into it and shoved my fuck stick into the dude's pale white ass, powering into him relentlessly until my pubes were crushed against his butt cheeks.

Austin was muscular, but he had a tiny frame and probably didn't weigh more than 125 pounds. It didn't look like his ass could accommodate my big black cock, but this was one time when looks were deceiving. Austin knew how to take dick. He wasn't the typical nervous college boy, horny but unsure of what to do. Austin had been there and knew the ropes. He worked his ass to get the maximum pressure on his prostate and squeezed my cock as I plowed him. When I pulled out of his fuck chute half an hour later, I left two loads of my spunk dripping from his hole and two batches of his thick jizz splattered across his chest.

We became regular fuck buddies. Austin loved it when I picked him up and held him in my arms while I fucked him, my cock skewering his ass as I powered upward with quick, brutal thrusts. He maintained that my cock went deeper inside him in that position, and he liked the feeling of being completely in my control.

Without any family support, Austin made ends meet with scholarships and hustling tricks, working his way through school in the `working boy' sense. I was virtually the only man using Austin's tight ass without paying for the privilege. Benny was Austin's roommate and, other than also being gay and into hustling, he and Austin had almost nothing in common. Benny had a muscular body and a masculine, chiseled face. He came from a seemingly inexhaustible supply of old money and, unlike Austin, who hustled because he needed the bucks, Benny hustled because he liked getting paid by men who lusted after his body. The money wasn't important to Benny; he got off on the idea that men would pay for the privilege of having sex with him. But he was savvy enough to charge what the market would bear, and in his case, that was big bucks.

Austin was a software genius and he and Benny developed a web app to help them hustle tricks. The app was clever because it worked with Grindr and other hook up apps, but with Austin's app, a separate screen located guys that would pay or take money for fucks. It was like Uber for gay hustling, showing different colored dots on a map. You could walk down Boylston Street in Boston and locate a college guy to hire – he might be just hanging out, working at Starbucks or on his way to the library – and check out his pictures, rates, availability and reviews. The site offered the assurance that came from both the rent boy and the john having been screened against online databases.

Benny approved each of the rent boys, so users knew they were getting a hot college boy. Between Harvard, Boston University, Boston College, MIT, Tufts and a score of other colleges, Boston offered an ample supply of potential working boys trying to pay tuition. Benny's contacts at seemingly every school made it easy to recruit interested guys. When screening hustlers became too time consuming, Benny delegated the job to coordinators at each school.

The app promised anonymity and required aliases for all users, and rather than the awkward point when cash was exchanged, the app processed payments in advance through PayPal and a web bank that Benny's family owned. That also helped weed out potentially troublesome johns. Tips could still be paid in cash. As a result, the app offered a comforting level of security for everyone.

Benny's army of rent boys had enough connections with johns so that the app soon had a critical mass of men interested in hiring a college boy for an hour, a night, a weekend or an overseas trip. Success in Boston was followed by rolling the app out nationwide, which opened up another channel of business – that of men visiting a strange city for a few days and wanting to hire some action.

It had never occurred to me the app might be useful in the middle of nowhere – which Westcliffe's location in western Montana certainly constituted. But the university attracted a steady stream of guests, whether they were academic types, parents of students, businessmen or just tourists. I retrieved my cell and shot Benny a message. In no time I was the local coordinator for Westcliffe, and Benny had given me supervisor rights as well. I was surprised that he had coordinators at the University of Montana and Montana State. How did he recruit these guys?

The app didn't show a ton of local traffic, but enough to be promising. A couple of men had already posted inquiries for the week coming up. The students might all be gone, but apparently it was a convenient time for the University's contractors to show up. Posting some shots of Max on the app would be easy, and after that I could sit back and see what developed.

"Roll over, slut," I said to Max. He dutifully complied, the white cheeks of his awesome round ass looking great against my dark brown bedcovers. "Raise your ass up a little," I said, snapping a shot with my cell after Max hoisted his buns in the air slightly. "A little higher, and flex," I added. Max arched his back and shoved his bubble butt high enough I could see his balls dangling below his pink hole. I snapped a bunch of shots.

"What are you doing?" Max asked.

"Gonna post some pics to see if we can get your ass a little more paying business," I said. Max didn't respond. I moved so I get could Max's face and broad shoulders in the shot, with the round mounds of his ass in the background. His hair was slightly tussled from the night in bed, and he looked like the consummate sex toy. Of course, the picture I needed was of Max's amazingly hard abs. And his dick was impressive, too, so some shots of his hard cock would be good.

"On you back," I ordered, "and get yourself hard."

Max rolled over but didn't have to work to get hard. The fucker's dick was rock hard already. "What's with that?" I asked gesturing at his hard on.

Max blushed, but looked me in the eye and said, "I was watching your big cock swinging between your legs... and thinking about the last couple of nights." With his wide, eager eyes, he looked like a puppy dog.

"What part of the last couple nights?" I asked. "Beating yourself off and splooging on your face for Anderson? Getting your ass drilled in front of an audience? Or when I brought you back here and used your asshole for fuck practice?"

"When..." Max said solemnly, "when you told me you owned my white whore ass and I was your slut bitch." He looked down and added, "I liked it when you said that, and I keep thinking about it."

"You have a good memory," I said. He's honest with himself, too, I thought, which is excellent. Most guys who got turned on by being degraded wouldn't admit it.

I pondered the hot rock jock staring up at me and adjusted the course I had settled on two days ago. "I meant every word I said Friday night," I told Max. "Before we did the little show for Anderson, I explained that your ass was mine to fuck whenever I wanted for the rest of the school year. But I'm changing the deal. I own your ass, your mouth, your dick, your body. Completely. Your ass is still mine to use whenever I want. But I may give it away. And I'm going to sell it, too. You whore for me now."

Max's big boner jumped a little and he quietly said, "Yes, sir." My hunch two nights earlier had been right. Max was a born sub and, having had a taste of a master, he was drawn to me like a moth to a flame. How improbable was it to find a sub like Max in the wilds of Montana?

I contemplated starting into a long speech about how Max would obey my every command, but I had a hunch the blond twink would do that naturally. There would be time for instructions later, so instead I focused on getting the best pictures of him. "Flex your abs," I said. I snapped two pictures but rethought and said, "They would look better greased." I retrieved some olive oil from the kitchen, and Max dutifully slathered it over his chest and stomach.

The oil made Max's hard abs look even hotter, so I told him, "Oil every inch of your body, slut. I want your muscles to gleam." Max took an oil bath, the no-longer virgin twink basting himself with extra virgin olive oil. Finished, he flexed his abs and gave me an incredible, `fuck me' look, his piercing blue eyes creating a haunting image of a lost boy. I snapped away like a runway shutterbug. The early morning light reflecting off the red cliffs to the west added great color to the shots.

Watching Max roll around with his smooth white skin greased and his big cock strutting against his tight abs got me going, too. Jeez, I had fucked Max the night before our show for Anderson, pounded him during the show, and then drilled his ass like no tomorrow twice after we got home. Four times in the last 36 hours, but my dong was demanding fuck number five. It needed Max's tight ass. I took a step toward the bed, aiming my cock for Max's thin lips and saying one word, "Suck."

Max brought a greasy hand up to grip the base of my cock and began to lick my fuck stick, eagerly running his tongue over every inch of the thick black pole. He stared up at me as he worked my dick, his eyes showing his desperation to please me. I was still holding my cell, and on the spur of the moment I snapped a couple of shots of Max slurping on my boner and looking slutty. I didn't anticipate posting those shots on the web app, but plenty of guys would have gotten turned on by the vision of a ripped white twink mouthing a big black cock. You never know when a picture like that can come in handy.

Max quickly swallowed my drill rod, the thick monster sliding down his throat. I couldn't resist grabbing Max's head and pumping his mouth, but the kid took everything I dished out.

Max wanted my dick in his ass, however, and he made no secret of it, pulling off my cock once I let go of his head and turning around, presenting his fuck chute to me and looking over his shoulder with a come-hither look. I was mildly annoyed. Max would learn that I called the shots, not him. But using his ass was what I wanted anyway, so I let it pass, but not before snapping a few last shots of his puckered hole in the foreground with his begging eyes peering over his defined, muscular shoulders in the background. Max's olive oil-covered body looked amazing.

I grabbed some lube and coated my dick. Even with leftover lube from last night, Max's ass was too tight to fuck with only spit as lube. Maybe after a couple of months of his ass hosting a regular fuck party for my big black cock, Max's tight hole would loosen up. Or maybe not.

I didn't take it easy on Max. I hadn't any of the times I had fucked him so far, either. I jammed my stiff rod into his boi cunt, causing Max to cry out, but the kid pushed his ass back, ready for me to ride him. I got into a good rhythm quickly, pounding Max's hole and pulling out almost all of the way before thrusting back inside my new boi whore. I could still feel the remnants of my loads from last night inside Max's fuck tunnel. God, how I love a spermy, used hole.

I plowed Max for a good half an hour before I came, pumping my load inside his guts. I reached for his hard, dripping cock as I rammed into him the final time and brought him off with a couple of quick strokes. My bedsheets were in desperate need of laundering after soaking up the olive oil and then getting covered with Max's spunk.

Max's pictures were hugely provocative, much better than I had hoped. The result wasn't due to any hidden talent with the camera on my part. The kid was just photogenic.

The pictures got an okay response on the web app, far less than they deserved. During the course of the week Max scored two new tricks, both visitors from out of town. I told Max that half of the money the guys prepaid on the web app was mine, and the rest was his, and he could keep his cash tips. I hadn't asked him to, but on his own he reported to me after each trick, making sure I knew how much tip money he had been paid. He was like a cat presenting a dead mouse to its owner. I didn't mind, because Max's hole was sloppy when he had taken a load in his ass from a trick, and I could never resist his used hole.

My arrangement with Max technically made me a pimp, although I was less bothered by taking money for sex than I had led Max to believe. But that's another story.

Both of Max's new tricks posted glowing reviews, one guy lavishing praise on Max's tight ass and the other raving about his big dick. The photos and the reviews generated a surprising amount of web traffic from other parts of the country, mostly men inquiring if Max travelled to LA, New York, Dallas or Miami. It was a shame that Max wasn't someplace like New York or Chicago or LA. He would clean up.

TO BE CONTINUED...

Email me if you are enjoying the story. Coltonaalto@gmail.com

Chapter Seventeen brings back a character from the past. Look for it in another week or two. Hope you are enjoying the story.

© Copyright Colton Aalto 2015