BBC on Campus

The usual disclaimers:

• My experiences are in everything I write, sometimes just a phrase, sometimes much more. However, this story is fiction. Any resemblance to actual events or persons, living or dead, is coincidental.

• If it is illegal for you to read this story because of your age, location or some other reason, don't read it.

• This work is copyright by the author. Commercial use is prohibited without permission. Please do not republish any parts of this story without consent of the author.

• This story depicts unprotected sex. In real-life, be safe!

Thanks for your feedback. I hope you enjoy the tale – and I appreciate your notes and encouragement. Email: coltonaalto@gmail.com.

BBC ON CAMPUS

CHAPTER SEVEN – A BABY, A HOT PROF AND A STONED ROCK BOY

I heard a baby crying down the hallway from my office, just as I finished reading a lengthy article for my thesis. I had been working on the article since the night Trent responded to my summons and walked out of my office naked, headed for his frat house with a sore ass and a load of my cum leaking from his greased pussy. Along with, of course, two ass cheeks adorned with sharpie graffiti.

The article was a waste of time and it was a relief to have it behind me. I had to slog through scholarly articles on the off chance they had something relevant to my thesis. That was the nature of academic research – months and years looking at ancillary materials, most of which were worthless. Regrettably, the process was necessary to ensure that my thesis was original and not a duplicate of something done years ago.

The crying in the hallway outside my office was getting louder, coming toward me. Compounding the noise problem, my door was open, an effort to get some air circulation to combat the unseasonably warm fall weather. I debated beginning another article, but trying to concentrate with the sounds of a screaming baby echoing in the hallway was not on my agenda.

Before I could leave, Kent Dornnen and his infant son appeared in my doorway. "Oh, sorry, Dillinger, I didn't realize anyone else was in the building," Kent said. "I hope Junior isn't bothering you too much." Kent was a young professor at Westcliffe, maybe 30. I knew him only casually. His classes were among the most popular at Westcliffe, although it was unclear whether that stemmed from his teaching ability or his crown as the reigning `sexiest professor' at Westcliffe, a title he had held for three years running. The award was unofficial, bestowed by the student body in an unsanctioned and unscientific online poll. The college kids were right about one thing. Professor Dornnen was easy on the eyes.

Junior took one look at me from his baby carriage and his scrunched up, tear stained face softened into a smile. He stopped crying, staring at me with big blue eyes.

"Damn," Kent said. "After three hours of crying, he takes one look at you and stops."

"In the right spot at the right time," I shrugged. I suspected Junior took my long dreadlocks for his mother's hair, but who knew? If that was what the baby thought, he was probably trying to understand how his mother suddenly grew to 6'5."

"Now I know what they mean when they say silence is golden," Kent remarked. "Janice is out of town, so I'm a full time dad for a few days."

"You mean babysitting undergraduates doesn't count as being a full time dad?" I asked.

Kent chuckled. "In every way except changing diapers," he said.

"Be careful; that could be coming," I remarked. I noticed that Kent's attention was focused on something on my desk. Following his eyes, I discovered the tube of lube I had used to coat Trent's ass was prominently displayed. It would have been bad enough if the lube had been something generic like KY Jelly,' but Uranus Anal Lubricant' didn't leave much room for alternative uses.

Most guys would have ignored Kent's riveted stare or made some fumbling excuse as to explain the lube's presence. Neither of those options were my style. "You ever try this stuff?" I asked, casually picking up the lube and handing it to Kent.

"No!" Kent said with an embarrassed laugh. But he gave me a long, lingering look and said, "Well, actually, yes."

I had wondered about Kent, but knowing he was newly married and with a baby, I hadn't paid much attention to him. For some reason I always thought late 20 and early 30-something fathers were hot. Maybe because their babies were tangible evidence of a night when their cocks spewed cum. I kept visualizing the young dads naked, sweaty and humping to exhaustion.

I hadn't seen Kent in anything other than an inexpensive suit, but tonight he was wearing a T-shirt with very short sleeves that showed off his arms. Tall and slender, his muscles were more toned than bulky, but his long arms were hot. Something between scruff and a light beard covered his jaw. That was another thing that appealed to the college kids and sent his `sexiest professor' marks higher.

Junior was continuing to stare at me in happy fascination, his big blue eyes beginning to show signs of an impending nap. Kent was staring at me with the same big blue eyes, also in fascination, but with no signs of a nap anytime soon. I had seen the look on other men's faces and I knew what it signified. I crossed to the door of my office, closing it tightly without saying anything.

Kent wanted me, and I was going to take him. He wasn't exactly a wounded deer in the sights of a gray wolf, but my juices were flowing at the prospect of nailing the young professor. Just a few days ago, Trent was bent over my desk, my makeshift gag muffling his cries as I ripped into his frat boy ass. And now the partially used tube of anal lube was going to be pressed into service again. My office was going to host an ass fucking twice in the same week.

I could practically taste Kent's nervous excitement as I strode over to him and bent down to kiss him. My dreadlocks fell over his head as I slipped a hand behind him and grabbed a nice, muscular ass cheek. Kent moaned, opening his mouth wide and inviting my tongue in. Kent might be married, but he was ready. More than ready. He kissed me hungrily.

As our mouths locked together, I ground my thigh against Kent's junk. His hands found my belt and pants, and he fumbled with them before finally freeing my cock. His hands closed on my black monster, and he broke the kiss, looking down to make sure his prize was as big as it felt. He exclaimed, "Jeez!"

I applied enough pressure to Kent's shoulders to bring him to his knees, and he pulled my underwear and pants to my ankles, feeling up my cock and balls in wonder. He seemed to be deciding which he liked better – my big black cock or my smooth black eggs. I didn't have patience for indecision and was about to grab Kent's head and shove his face into my junk when he acted on his own, licking my hardening shaft and then taking it into his mouth. His hands kept massaging my ball sack. Kent stared up at me with eager eyes. I wondered how long it had been since he sucked a cock – any cock, much less a big black fuck rod. But the fucker knew what he was doing with his mouth and was loving it.

I unbuttoned my shirt and stripped it off, interrupting Kent long enough to kick off my pants and shoes. Jake had given me the last really good blow job I had had, and I was tempted to let Kent eat my cum, but the ass lube on my desk was practically shouting at me. After Kent slurped on my cock for a good, long time, taking my rigid shaft down his throat and making love to the head of my cock, I pulled him off. Kent got to his feet and I bent down to kiss him again, getting a little taste of my own pre-cum from Kent's mouth.

I turned Kent around to face the wall, pulling his T-shirt off and undoing his pants. His cock was a pre-cum soaked rod of steel. Pressing Kent against the wall, I grabbed the lube and squeezed a liberal amount on my fuck pole, using the head of my cock to grease his hole.

To get my dick in the right position, I had to squat down. Most married guys don't take cock in their fuck chutes very often, and Kent was no different. His ass was tight and resisted my intrusion. I pressed harder and harder, and finally my cock popped inside Kent's hole, breaching his sphincter. Kent moaned, clinging to the wall. I raised one of his feet to a nearby chair, giving me better access to his asshole. I was ready to impale the hot prof on my black spear.

I forced my cock farther into Kent's hole, sinking into him a couple more inches. "Oh, God, wait a minute," Kent said in an anguished gasp. "But don't stop!" I could sense him trying to relax his ass and pulled out slightly to help him. He must have succeeded – or decided he would just suck it up and handle the pain – because after a long minute, he said, "Oh, yeah. Fuck me! Fuck my ass!" I slammed into him, this time sinking my entire fuck tool into his hole. "Oh my God," Kent gasped. "Fuck my ass! Fuck my ass!"

I got into a good rhythm, crushing Kent against the wall as I invaded his tight hole. I used my lubed hand on Kent's cock, coating it with a layer of ass lube. Between the lube and Kent's pre-cum, his dick was slippery, the skin pulled tight. With his head turned sideways and pressed against the wall, Kent kept repeating, "Fuck me, fuck my ass!"

Junior hadn't gone to sleep after all and now had a happy grin on his face as he watched me butt fuck his father. He was far too young to remember any of it. Although, who knows what infants see or remember? Would Junior have an inexplicable desire in 20 years to fuck a man while standing up? Or to follow in his father's footsteps and take a stiff cock up his ass while he was pinned against a wall?

I ran one hand across Kent's abs, playing with the treasure trail that spilled from his bellybutton. Kent had a huge, flat bellybutton, the size of a quarter, and I toyed with it, enjoying the feel of the taut skin. A light, almost non-existent smattering of thin hair graced Kent's chest. Maybe I should fuck him on his back so I could see his bellybutton and chest, I thought. Another time.

I felt my nut building and closed my fist on Kent's cock, pumping his dick as I pumped his ass. "Oh, God, I'm gonna cum!" Kent exclaimed. "Fuck me!" Kent's body shuddered as his balls released and his cum discharged. Not a ton of spunk. He must drain his nuts regularly in his wife's cunt.

I pile drove my cock into Kent's tight hole, ramming him furiously for another couple of minutes until my cum exploded, filling Kent's hole with black ball juice. I kept Kent pinned to the wall for a long spell as my cock, still buried inside him, softened. In the meantime, I put my fingers into Kent's mouth, making him clean off the lube and his spunk and pre-cum. He didn't have to be told to clean my cock after I pulled out of his fuck chute. He immediately dropped to his knees and took me down his throat again. Good boy; he knows his place.

Kent was quiet as we dressed. He wanted to say something, but then didn't want to. Married guys are conflicted about cheating with a guy. On one hand, it's not as bad as cheating with a woman, but it's still cheating. I wondered if Kent had done other guys since he got married. I wasn't the first guy to kiss him or fuck his ass, but I might have been the first guy since he walked down the aisle.

Junior had finally fallen asleep in his baby carriage as Kent got ready to leave. Kent hesitated, then pulled me into a kiss, his mouth swallowing my tongue. Conflicted or not, Kent didn't want his ride on my cock tonight to be the last one. I would accommodate his wishes, but perhaps not in the way he wanted.

Married guys need a fixed schedule, but by the same token, if they are planning to stay married, gay sex can be only occasional. I shoved Kent against my wall, pinning his arms above his head. His eyes betrayed surprise and excitement. This was one of those times when I would use my height to its full advantage. "Listen carefully," I said, my face inches from Kent's. "I'm going to tell you what your life will be like from now on. I'm going to fuck your pussy on the first Wednesday of every month. Got it? 9:00 p.m., sharp. Bring Junior if you want, but come prepared to get your ass drilled. I'm going to ride you like a whore. And I won't nut just once like tonight. Tonight was nothing!

"One other thing. You're not permitted to fuck around with other guys. Understand? Fuck your wife as many times as you want, morning, noon and night, but I own your ass. You're my bitch, and the only cock that is going inside either of your holes is the one that just bred you and seeded your pussy. Am I clear?"

Kent, surprised, didn't respond. Being ten years older than I was, he didn't expect me to dictate things to him. It would take him a moment to accept his new reality.

"If you're wondering," I continued, "This isn't optional. What I just described is what's going to go down. I'll repeat myself. I own your ass. I own it completely. I'll fuck you when and how I want to. You are going to crave my cock, become addicted to it. Even now you're remembering how full you felt when it was up your ass, how desperately you wanted to be fucked and how empty you felt when I pulled out. You can't remember ever having an orgasm like you just had, all because my big black cock was ravaging your tight pussy. You're wondering if you'll be capable of waiting for 30 days before feeling my fuck tool enter you again. Thinking about my cock being inside you is gonna make you so horny that you'll fuck your wife like a wild man, and she'll love it. Like a junkie you'll need your monthly fix of my cock in your ass, my cum on your lips, my spunk shooting in your guts and my ball juice dripping down the back of your legs. Does that make it easy enough for you to understand?"

This time, Kent nodded. Was he irritated that I took it for granted that he was going to service my cock at my whim? Perhaps. But we both knew the arrangement was exactly what he wanted. His big blue eyes betrayed him. In less than an hour he would be whacking himself off while he fingered his cum drenched pussy and relived the experience of being bred by a black stud. Strangely, Junior started crying again as Kent wheeled him out of my office.

It was late as I headed to the old gas station that housed my apartment and the six sophomore rock climbers living below me. Most of the guys had gone to bed, although looking down the glass block corridor that ran in front of the three garage bays, I saw a dim light from the farthest bay. Sancho or Max was still studying.

Travis was the lone survivor, sprawled on a couch in the living room in a haze of marijuana smoke. His spiked brown hair was messier than usual, and his thick lips and flushed cheeks were redder than normal. He had a couple of moles on his face that gave him a distinctive look. He was shirtless, not unusual. As was often the case, the scenery made me hesitate and take in the view before I headed upstairs. Travis had the ideal rock climber's body. A high ratio of muscle to mass, no excess body fat. His ripped and cut body turned heads. He had everything. Amazing chest, taut stomach, muscled legs, and incredible arms. And a nice, round ass, split by a sharp crack.

Among the rock climbers, Travis was far and away the biggest partier. He devoted Thursday, Friday and Saturday nights to booze, weed and pussy, always in that order. More often than not Sundays and Wednesdays were party days, too, and Travis didn't pass up opportunities on Monday or Tuesday, either. I had no idea how he stayed in college, but his grades didn't suffer. The kid was smart enough to sail by without working.

While he didn't work at studying, he worked at partying and at rock climbing. Travis might have been the best of the rock boys when it came to climbing, and he could do amazing things. He usually free climbed, and, belying his carefree, party boy image, when he climbed he was completely focused, a study in concentration, strength and stamina. Watching his body against the red cliffs west of the gas station was dramatic and inspiring. Travis's flushed red cheeks and grin after scaling a cliff were made for pictures. His pumped arms and chest didn't hurt, either.

As intense as Travis was when he climbed, he was completely relaxed and wild when he partied. He drank gallons of Fireball whiskey, although that didn't necessarily set him apart from other college kids at Westcliffe. On top of the booze, he smoked dope, too. Way too much dope. Travis was a pot head, plain and simple. He maintained he couldn't sleep without getting stoned, so every night he got high before heading to bed. Even odds on whether he would be accompanied by a coed bedmate.

From the beginning, because I was young, black and had long dreadlocks, Travis took it for granted that I smoked too. He was always asking if I wanted a hit, which I usually refused but occasionally I smoked a little with him. I had no idea where he got his marijuana, but it was good stuff. Recreational marijuana was legal in Washington, which was three hours away by car, so maybe he and some friends drove there to buy it legally. Of course, that meant illegally bringing it into Idaho and then Montana on the way back. The Idaho police, in particular, loved waiting for young guys to cross the border from Washington so they could search the kids on some pretense. Montana had medical marijuana, so maybe Travis had a prescription for the stuff. Plenty of college kids did. Westcliffe was surrounded by an unusually high number of medical marijuana shops. Of course, maybe the local cowboys had medical problems that marijuana helped.

Travis gave me a big smile and asked if I wanted to smoke a joint. My day had been long and busy – concluding with topping Kent – and relaxing didn't sound bad, so I accepted the invitation. It wasn't long before I had a good buzz. Travis must have been completely gone. Judging by the ash tray, he smoked plenty before I arrived. And, from the look of the coffee table, he had killed several beers, too. If Travis couldn't find a party, he made his own.

"Smoking makes me horny," I said, for no particular reason except I was still remembering Kent's tight ass as I fucked him standing up in my office. Travis's dope gave new life to my memory of dicking the young father, making it seem more intense. "Nothing feels as good as having your cock in a tight hole when you're stoned," I added. Travis was straight and had a legion of conquered coeds to prove it, so I wasn't anticipating much beyond commiseration. And having just gotten off in Kent's hole, my meat wasn't restless. But if I had a shot at fucking all six of the rock climbers, I had to create some opportunities and let them play out. No better way to open the discussion with a straight college boy than talking about sex.

"Oh, God, me too!" Travis exclaimed, sitting up and staring at me as if I had said something truly profound. "Nothing better when you're high than having a big tit in each hand and wet cunt wrapped around your dick!"

I almost got up and walked away. Talking straight sex with a wasted college kid was one thing, but Travis's graphic portrayal was more than I cared to handle. Still, I persevered, wondering where the conversation might lead. "What's the wildest sexual thing you've done when you were stoned?" I asked. I steeled myself for a typical straight boy fantasy, expecting Travis to detail a threesome with two cheerleaders or getting picked up by a wild, 40 year old cougar and fucking her in an outdoor hot tub in a ski condo.

Travis didn't hesitate. He whispered to me in a conspiratorial voice, "I once got so horny when I was stoned that I let a guy butt fuck me."

Where did that come from? Travis doing it with a guy? "How was it?" I asked, too surprised to come up with a better question. The gray wolf was suddenly alert, watching for prey.

"Fucking awesome!" Travis said, his voice betraying excitement. He frowned slightly and, as if needing to backtrack and offer an explanation, added, "Totally weird, though. I mean, I don't look at dudes and I am crazy about pussy, but that one night this dude talked me into letting him put his dick in my ass. I don't even know if I agreed, but this guy had the hots for me – fuck, he kept making passes even though I constantly told him to fuck off. He was damn persistent! I don't remember how it happened, but all at once I was bare-ass naked and on my back in his bed with my legs on his shoulders, and the motherfucker's dick was poking my ass. I kept thinking, `this is wrong, this dude must think I'm a girl.' At first it grossed me out, but I closed my eyes and forgot that I was having sex with a guy. Jus' started thinking about my dick and what my ass felt like. Suddenly it was amazing. I fucking beat myself off twice while the dude was dicking me. My freaking ass was sore for a week, but, damn, it was worth it."

Travis's story was stunning. I had been looking for some way to get to him, and suspected dope might be the key, but the fucker had just given me an opening big enough to drive a semi through. Too bad I had just dicked Kent, but my cock recovered quickly, and if I was up for another round, I got hard within a few minutes of cumming. I made a point of squeezing my cock, drawing Travis's eyes to my crotch. He stared with a dazed look and licked his lips.

"No shit, dude?" I said. "What was it like, taking cock?"

"Hurt like hell at first," Travis said. I could sense he was reliving the experience in his mind. Good. "But, damn, once that dick was inside me and pumping my bunghole, something happened. It fucked with my brain. It was like I had a second dick, inside out, and pumping both at the same time took me to another level. The guy gave me some poppers, too, and those put me on a different planet. I have never cum so hard in my life!" Travis eyes were glazed but excited as he recalled his night of sex. He paused, taking another drag on a joint and slurping down some beer. "I kept the poppers," Travis added.

The gray wolf was poised to pounce. "You want an encore, don't you?" I asked. It was a statement more than a question. "Right now," I continued, "you want another dick in your ass."

His eyes glazed, Travis put his tongue on his top lip and mumbled, "Maybe..." Maybe was as good as `hell, yes' as far as I was concerned. I got up and walked to the couch Travis was sprawled on, and roughly pulled down his boxer shorts. Travis looked up at me with his big green eyes like he was unable to move. Which, given how trashed he was, might not have been far from the truth.

Travis was a curious combination of innocence and daring. He had bright eyes that the girls loved and ruddy cheeks that made him look like the boy next door. But he had a mischievous grin, like he wanted to experiment and couldn't resist the temptation of anything taboo. As I stared at him, he looked younger than he was. Young, but determined to break every rule in the book.

Travis's tight, ripped stomach and chest looked awesome. Damn, the kid had an amazing build. He had a random array of moles across his smooth body, but they made him look young and vulnerable. I always thought his moles were hot.

Travis gestured toward the end table. Along with the bottle of poppers, Travis apparently kept the end table stocked with lube so it was handy when he brought women back to the gas station. Now, however, it wasn't his dick that was getting slicked up, but rather his asshole. I coated my cock, pumping it several times until it was hard. It was ready for round two, perfectly happy to have another ass to plunder.

Travis lifted his legs up, ready to get fucked, already sniffing the poppers. I positioned his ankles on my shoulders and my fuck tool at his hole. "You ready for this?" I asked, although by that time we both had passed the point of no return, so the question was rhetorical. My cock was destined for the rock jock's ass and we both wanted it.

"Oh, yeah, fuck my ass!" Travis said. So much for the straight boy-next-door, sweet talking ladies into his bed. The stoned, horny Travis below me sniffing poppers was a total slut, begging to be turned into a pussy boi. I was about to oblige him. If he couldn't walk for a week after the first time he got fucked, I was about to make sure he couldn't walk for two weeks.

I started to enter him slowly, but Travis wasn't interested in anything leisurely. He lifted his ass to meet my dick and grabbed my butt with both hands and pulled me into him. "Fuck me like a bitch!" he growled.

I did exactly that. I rammed my cock into him, making him gasp. His eyes flew open like he didn't know what hit him. But his pussy was mine now and I was going to use him as a cum dump. I pulled out and slammed back inside him, then began to ride his ass, shoving his head and shoulders into the couch each time I drilled his hole.

Travis's loud gasps were replaced by soft whimpers as I pounded him. He closed his eyes and took a hit of the poppers, and I could tell he was heading to his own little place where he would concentrate on how his ass felt and not on his boi pussy being used for fuck practice. "Oh, fuck, give it to me!" he moaned.

I drilled Travis with long, violent thrusts, sometimes four or five in quick succession. They made his body jerk and elicited appreciative moans. Travis repeatedly grabbed his cock and fisted it four or five times before letting it fall back to his taut abs. Fucker's dick was so wet with pre-cum that I wondered if he had already shot.

Travis kept his eyes closed, but not his mouth. "Yeah, fuck that ass!" he yelled. "Harder! Fuck it, fuck it, fuck it!" I was just the man to carry out the order. I piston drove him into the couch, giving him a relentless beat down. He flexed his tight abs and chest with every stroke of my stud buster into his hot body. It was an awesome sight.

Travis hadn't used the poppers much after the first couple of hits, but he inhaled deeply, once in each nostril, and did his usual thing of whacking his cock four or five times before dropping his boner. A good 60 seconds later, I was stunned to see him blow his load, spontaneously. Travis's first shot caught my attention, a quick spurt of cum that splattered across his abs. The next couple of shots were more like an overflow valve releasing. His cock barely spurted but left a thick pool of jism in his bellybutton. I figured Travis was done, but then the strangest thing happened. As I pounded into him with a particularly violent thrust, his cock shot like a rocket, a big, thick wave of cum exploding and arching through the air until it splashed on his face. He shot a half dozen more ribbons of cum, one hitting the back of the couch and the rest crisscrossing his face, chest and stomach. A couple of stringy strands graced his hair.

Travis's cum fireworks was as close to hands-free as I had ever seen. And from a straight guy, no less. Jesse blew his load hands-free the first time I fucked his dance-boi ass, but I had been shafting him doggy style and hadn't seen him cum. I hadn't seen Trent's unassisted spurt on my desktop, either. Watching Travis's dick jump, pump and dump on its own was amazing. I had fucked the cum out of the straight stoner.

By then, despite having already dumped a load that night, I was close, too, and ready to seed the drenched rock jock impaled on my cock. I pulled his ass even higher off the couch and drove down into his helpless hole. A dozen quick strokes and I was there. I shot into Travis's tight fuck tube, letting my cum flood his guts.

After I caught my breath, I pulled out, wiping my dick on Travis's ass cheeks and dropping his feet to the floor. I took Travis's hand and wiped the last drops of cum from my dick head, and then shoved his fingers into his mouth. He had been fucked before, but I doubt he had eaten black stud cum before. It might have been his first taste of another guy's nut milk. He stared at me with dead eyes, his face dripping with his own cum.

I doubted Travis was going to be able to crawl into bed for a while, but that wasn't my problem. "Thanks for the smoke," I said, pulling my pants back up. "And the use of your fuck chute." I collected my things and climbed to my apartment, leaving the straight stoner seeded and sated.

Drunk, stoned boys don't always remember getting fucked, and straight drunk, stoned boys, even when they remember, don't always want to admit it. I didn't care how Travis reacted. But over the next couple of days he blatantly hinted that he remembered, didn't give a damn about admitting it, and wanted his ass pounded again – provided he was totally stoned, of course. Some guys are gay-for-pay. Travis was bottom-when-stoned.

Oddly enough, Travis's behavior only reinforced my view that he was straight. A guy questioning his sexuality would have been bothered by getting fucked and enjoying it. Travis was such a hedonist that he wasn't concerned in the least and just wanted to repeat the experience over and over. If Travis ever settled down with a steady girlfriend, I suspected he would get a dildo and beg her to use it on him, probably at the same time he was grabbing her tits and fucking her cunt.

After the first night, Travis and I hooked up from time to time when I was in the mood and he had some good stuff. He was a damn good fuck for a straight boy.

Kent punctually kept his ass's monthly appointment to be pummeled by my cock. I suppose he was really bisexual. He loved his wife and, as near as I could tell, they were young enough and into it enough to fuck at least daily, sometimes more. But Kent needed a cock every now and then, and I provided it.

In some odd way, I was good for Kent's marriage. He got a fix of stiff cock once a month – not just a fix, but a massive black python that seeded his ass three or four times – and he wasn't tempted to look for more because I made it clear I owned his ass. He understood his man cunt was for the exclusive use of my big black cock. After a month of not getting fucked, Kent was hornier than hell and desperate to be bred. For me, it was nice to have his two man holes to use once a month. It was a balance to the teen boi pussy surrounding me on campus and living below me in the gas station.

TO BE CONTINUED...

Chapter eight is in the works; I hope to have it up in four or five days. In the meantime, let me know if you like the story, the characters, the setting (and the sex). Coltonaalto@gmail.com

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