I'm thrilled so many of you liked chapters 1 & 2! Thanks for letting me know what did the trick for you. I've tried to include more of that this time!
I spent way too long on the Alex section, and I'm still not sure it turned out; I'd appreciate any thoughts. I also planned to include more time with Tom, but that will have to be in the next chapter. Email me at pseudonym.in.my.pants@gmail.com
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Matt Meets Alex
Thursday morning was rough. I had gotten home pretty late from my workout with Zak, and although I was physically tired, my brain wouldn't shut off. I kept thinking about what we'd done, how his face had looked, and the offer he'd made afterward. I ended up jerking-off twice more before I could get to sleep, with the second load being basically dry.
I woke up a bit later than usual, but still nowhere near rested. My head hurt, as it often did when I underslept, and I briefly considered bailing on the whole day.
The trouble with that plan was mandatory seminars. My ethics class had a discussion section every Thursday, and if I didn't show up, it counted against my grade. I already wasn't doing super well in the class, an irony that wasn't lost on me, so I couldn't afford to take the hit.
I dragged myself out of bed and across the hall into the bathroom. Ethics wasn't until after lunch, but since I was going to campus anyway, I leaned in. Plus, this way, mom was less likely to bring it up with me.
I showered, shaved, and dressed, and by the time I was on my bike, my migraine was down to a headache. I begrudgingly pedaled out along the same route I'd taken just a few hours earlier.
Morning lectures were pretty light, so I was able to just kind of float through them. All the material would be posted online ahead of finals, meaning I didn't really need to take notes. That gave me plenty of opportunity to massage my temples, and daydream about the night before. By the time 20th-Century European History let out, both my heads were throbbing.
Heading over to the student center, for caffeine and food, my friend Monica caught up to me. We'd been co-workers for a few months at the cafe, prior to my Tom incident, until she landed a sweet internship with the mayor's office. We still hung out at her place occasionally, and often ate together when our breaks lined-up.
"Jesus Matt, you look like shit", she greeted me. Monica was renowned for her tact. "Late night?"
"Ugh, kill me. I have to spend 2 hours debating Kant after this." Apparently I hadn't cleaned up as well as I'd thought.
We got in line for coffee, and I told her an edited version of what I'd been up to. I explicitly left out the Tom parts, since I was a bit embarrassed about fooling around with an older guy. I kept my voice low, both for my own sake, and for that of the other customers. It was a pleasant change, for once, to be the one sharing the dirty story.
"Daaaamn! Gay guys have it so easy", she said, when I was done. "Do you know who that was?"
"Zak?"
"Obviously. He's some hot new fuckboy on the basketball team. I heard they gave him a huge scholarship to transfer. Half the girls in my Calc class are trying to screw him."
"Really? Sucks to be them I guess..."
She unlocked her phone and went to the student council's Instagram page. 3 of the last 10 posts had Zak in them. The most recent was a great shot of him making a dunk, with his face snarling in victory and his arms super pumped from the game.
"I say put that boy to work", she laughed. "You definitely need it."
The conversation drifted to other gossip, and we slowly finished our lunches. I forced a smile trying to keep pace with Monica's banter. However, opening up to someone about the last couple days, even if only partially, was a relief.
At some point, there was a natural pause, and we both stood up. There were only about 10 minutes left before my seminar anyway.
"I'll swing by the cafe this week, and you can give me an update", she said as we were leaving.
"Can't wait!", I replied. My grey matter was much less enthusiastic.
I arrived at the room in time to grab a seat near the wall. The rest of the class trickled in shortly after, and then the TA marked us off. My mission completed, I tried to take it easy for the rest of the session. A heroic brown-nose, a few rows down from me, did her best to assist.
Unfortunately, about two-thirds of the way through, my plan fell apart. My migraine had been quietly growing since coffee with Monica, and with so many people chattering around me, it finally hit a breaking point. I needed to be somewhere quiet. Now.
With maximum discretion, I loudly snuck out a side exit, and hurried for the bathroom. This was maybe my 5th time being in the building, so I didn't have one in mind. I hit the jackpot a few doors down the hall, and wrapped my fingers around to the cool brass handle. As I did, another guy, with a very similar build and hairstyle, pushed out past me.
"Fuckin' perv", he muttered to himself.
Normally, I'd have wondered what he was talking about, but right then I couldn't spare the brain-cells. I rushed in through the open door and snagged one of the empty stalls. The world spun around me at 100rpm
I sat on the closed lid of the toilet with my eyes screwed shut. I took deep breaths, and tried to hold still, while relaxing the muscles in my forehead. Little by little, in the solitude of the bathroom, the pain and dizziness ebbed back to manageable levels.
I reopened my eyes and jumped. Poking through the thin wooden partition, was a finger. A passing familiarity with gay porn made me instantly aware of what was going on, but I couldn't believe it was happening here.
"Cute", came a voice from the adjacent stall. "And I bet you taste even better." The finger beckoned comically. "It's the perfect cure for a headache."
For some reason, maybe my discomfort, maybe the sheer audacity, I found myself genuinely considering the offer. It clearly appealed to me more than the last customer, but I wasn't sure. Did I seriously want to mess around with yet another stranger? Would it really help? What did a BJ even feel like?
Cautiously, I stood up and opened my fly, facing toward the hole in the wooden wall. It was surprisingly big to have been overlooked, more than enough to accommodate me. I winced at the sudden change in orientation.
In all of my experiences up to this moment, I'd only ever given head, never gotten it. I considered myself a bottom, and the guys I'd hooked up with, mainly Tom, were focused on fucking me. I enjoyed dick stuff, it certainly made me cum, I'd just never had a problem with a handjob afterward. That was about to change.
Without giving myself a chance to back out, I shoved my boxers to my thighs and stuck my junk though to the other side.
Immediately, a new sensation gripped me, and I froze. A warm wetness engulfed my cock and twisted around it. Fuck, was that a tounge? I wasn't even hard yet and this was already pretty sweet.
The stimulation started to stiffen my shaft, and after less than a minute of tongue-lashing, I was at full mast. My headache had become a fading memory. That's when my physician revealed his true talent.
The moist heat spread down my eager rod, and the tongue followed along, delicately exploring my underside. It paused for a moment, to caress the edge of my cut foreskin, and I shuddered in pleasure. That spot was so fucking sensitive. How did he know?
When it reached the root of my 6", the warmth smoothly retreated back to my ridge, then gently advanced again, making sure to tickle my collar on every pass. Somehow, even more blood rushed to my manhood, and my pink hole clenched involuntarily.
"Holy shit that's good", I gasped, and mashed my groin flush against the wood. The mouth beyond gladly took every millimeter I could offer.
"Mmmmhmmmm", he agreed. His voice buzzed around my pulsing rod.
With ample pipe available, the suck-job picked up speed. I felt a seal form around my slippery fuck-pole, and then a vacuum tightness clamped everything beyond. It was unlike anything I'd ever experienced. I was in cock heaven.
Faster and faster, the silky pressure descended my rigid member, then glided back up to my engorged helmet, swirling over my piss-slit when it reached the tip. It was like he was trying to suck me even larger, but I was already hard as steel.
"Fuck yeah, dude", I moaned. "Suck that fuckin' cock. Get me nice and wet." I found myself imitating the guys I had serviced in the past.
"Yeah daddy", he whined between mouthfuls. "Your dick tastes so fuckin' good. Feed me that bro-meat."
Now and again, he would release my slick shaft from its velvet cocoon and smack it against his face: cheeks, tongue, eyes, and forehead. I couldn't see his expression, but I knew it was lust, the lust of staring up at a man, and feeling his heft strike your muzzle. I trembled at the pride of being that man for him, the girthy weight behind the blows.
During these short breaks, his hand would take up the slack, stroking quickly along my spit-lubed thickness. The mixture of grips and pressures, overhand then under, strong then light, made me pant and squirm. All of this was accented by the delicate swipes of his tongue around my nuts.
For a long while, I let the mystery mouth do its sloppy work, relishing the stimulation it gave me. I began to leak, and felt the owner lap up my drops of salty precum, just like I'd have done in his place. Eventually though, I needed more from the exquisite suction. I was impatient to increase the pace, increase the friction, and finally drain my balls.
I started to thrust into the hole, and my swollen head soon rammed a spongey, satisfying resistance. There was gagging from next door, but I didn't care. The ecstasy of hitting the back of his skull, of totally bottoming out, was simply irresistible. He struggled, still sucking, as I built speed toward my inevitable climax.
Suddenly, I remembered being the one on my knees, making those sounds, and a sense of incredible dominance coursed through me. It was completely alien, but also perfect, as good as any sensation from my pistoning dick. I felt fucking invincible.
"Damn right baby. Gag on daddy's fat fuckin' meat", I groaned. "Choke on my fuckin' hog."
Was this what guys loved so much about blowjobs? Was this how Zak and Tom felt every minute of their lives? Not just the physical pleasure, but the giant ripping ego-trip that came from wrecking a dude's throat. I understood it now, and I could never forget.
I squeezed my eyes shut and let my mouth fall open. My thrusts became wild and desperate. Without thinking, I rose onto my toes and grabbed the top of the partition.
"Gluh - Gluh - Gluh - Gluh", his steady gags filled the room. Anyone who walked in would undoubtedly hear us, but I couldn't give a shit.
I wanted to take hold of the face I was fucking, to look into its eyes and witness the submission. In that moment, the anonymous thrill of a gloryhole conflicted with the overwhelming confidence of my fuck. If only there had been more time.
The invisible lips pulled back and focused directly on my purple head: short, rapid strokes, in perfect tempo, to just behind my flared ridge. I missed the warmth along my pulsing shaft, but the stimulation that replaced it was amazing, almost too intense to stand.
"Fuck dude. I'm so fuckin' close. Don't you dare fuckin' -"
My orgasm hit me and the words died on my lips. My churning balls shot up, releasing their pent up jizz. It raced down my aching pipe and onto his waiting tongue.
When the second jet fired, his lips dove to my base, pulling me back inside. Golden heat surrounded me as I came, unloading sumpsoussly into his eager gullet.
"Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Fuckin' take it!", I screamed in a hoarse whisper.
For what seemed like minutes, ropes of molten cum gushed out of me. Each shot carried a pulse of accomplishment through my entire shaft, from deep in my clenched taint, to just before my puffy piss-slit. I strained enraptured against the stall wall, struggling for all the penetration I could get. It was the utter male bliss of a well-bred hole.
As my dick softened, I withdrew from my spunk-hole and sighed. There was a gargle on the other side, and then a pronounced gulp. I felt like a brand new man.
I tucked my sticky self back into my pants and was about to leave, when I was hit with a question. What was the etiquette for this situation? Did I thank him? Reciprocate? Even just acknowledge him? My earlier bravado had become an afternoon snack.
Ultimately, I decided to leave without saying anything, but apparently fate couldn't abide my manners. I must have waited too long, because as I pushed open my stall door, he did the same with his. There was no time to recalculate. The two of us were left staring at one another in the bathroom mirror.
He looked younger than me, probably 19, and stood about my height once he was on his feet. Blonde hair framed his cherub face in loose waves, which were almost girlish, and his beard, if he could grow one, was shaven clean. I guessed he weighed all of 130lbs under his clothes, a pair of tight khakis, and a short-sleeve button-down that exposed his collarbone.
"Alex", he waved, brown eyes locked on mine.
"Matt"
Maybe mandatory seminars weren't so bad after all.
Matt Revs Tom's Engine
By this point, I could forgive someone for thinking I had a nonstop supply of dick. I was juggling a regular daddy, a spontaneous jock, and still hunting for cock in the men's room. In reality though, the last few days were a total outlier. I'd been a virgin until I was 20, and I had no control now.
It wasn't that I was ugly, I thought my face was cute enough. I was also reasonably fit, although hardly an athlete. And I didn't have anything to hide, I'd come out in highschool, to a pretty banal reception. The thing that had stopped me was that I never really learned how to put myself out there.
I knew that I wanted men, but when it came time to actually talk to a guy, or, god-forbid, flirt, I basically shut down. The idea that they might want me back, or more likely the opposite, turned me into an awkward statue. That's why, for the first two-and-a-half years of college, I remained painfully chaste.
I had chances to experiment: offers for setups with friends of friends, a few horrible parties, and even some classmates who were, in retrospect, obviously hitting on me. I just couldn't bring myself to go for it. It wasn't until Tom that someone simply ignored my invisible shell.
I think that's part of the reason I kept going back to him. Of course, in my admittedly limited experience, the sex was also fantastic, but there was something in the way he blithely disregarded my insecurities. It was equal parts selfish and kind, on a level I'm not even sure he recognized. He got my body, and I got his, and as long as I didn't think about the people we might hurt, it was a happy exchange. That's how I found myself loitering on the Andersons' back patio, disappearing into the descending dusk.
It was the Saturday following my introduction to Alex. After we'd exchanged names, he and I ended up swapping numbers too. He was strangely hard to resist that way. Despite his small size, he had a sexual confidence I couldn't ignore. He wasn't dominant, like Zak or Tom, but almost hungry. He knew exactly what he wanted and wasn't ashamed to beg for it. If my first lesson was any indication, I'd be feeding him again before too long.
Meanwhile, Zak hadn't so much as texted me since Wednesday. I knew I shouldn't be surprised, but I kept fidgeting with my phone like it was a 30-day chip, praying for a sign. I constructed all kinds of stupid stories about why it had taken so long: broken phone, bad service, busy at practice, anything. The fact was though, he had no shortage of options. The best I could do was wait for him to summon me, more than likely with just a sentence fragment. Reaching out, especially to volunteer as the team stress-reliever, would just look pathetic.
Tonight, however, I had something to keep me preoccupied. Katie's dad, Owen's grandpa, was throwing a family reunion to celebrate some big birthday. Maybe his 60th? The important thing was that the two of them would be out of town for the whole weekend. Tom had convinced Katie that he had to stay home working overtime, in no small part because he despised his in-laws. And I had told mom I was going to a party, so she shouldn't expect me back until later on Sunday. That meant that, for the first time ever, Tom and I had no clock.
There would be no grenade hanging over us, waiting to detonate my fantasy. I could spend the night wrapped in his big daddy arms, with no doubt a lot of cock and cum as a nightcap.
A light flicked on in the Andersons' kitchen, throwing a rectangle of light around my feet. Tom padded over from the lightswitch to let me in, a smirk twisting his square jaw. He wore a faded Budweiser t-shirt that stretched between his meaty pecs, and draped a little over his domed abs. A pair of drawstring cotton shorts contained his ample bulge and glutes.
"Glad you made it, babe", he said, sliding the glass pane aside. "It was getting chilly by myself."
"Me too." I gave an exaggerated shiver.
I stepped through the threshold and pressed myself into his warmth. My chin tilted to hook over his shoulder, and my fingers found the small of his back. He smelled like a man, with a trace of sweat since his last shower, plus a hint of sourness from an evening beer or two. His thick arms encircled me back, shutting the door to the real world.
We froze like that for a minute, enjoying each other's touch. It wasn't exactly sexual, just comfortable, human. I listened to his steady heartbeat.
Eventually though, Tom's wide hands slid down my spine and cupped my firm butt. He gave a squeeze that broke the mood, signaling it was time. His thick cock stirred against my hip.
"You ready?", he asked.
"Always", I replied.
We unravelled and headed deeper into the house. His hand stayed on my ass, guiding me to our destination.
At first I assumed we were headed upstairs, but at the landing, he prompted me forward, toward a door across the hall. I'd never been this way before. Except for my one solo entrance, he had always met me when I arrived and taken me directly to the guest bedroom.
The handle turned easily, and the scent of metal and gasoline stripped Tom from my nostrils. The floor was cold beneath my feet. He stepped through behind me, and a light snapped on overhead.
On the far side of the room stood Tom's black SUV, the one I'd seen him drive around the neighbourhood. But closer to me, and what dominated the space, was a motorcycle. It was a sport-bike, with a sleek body and a bright plastic shell, rather than the skeletal chrome machines I pictured outside a biker bar. There were also a fair number of tools and parts on the dropcloth around it.
"I've been tuning up my old bike", Tom said. "I got it when I was about your age, but it's been in storage for a while. Used to get me pretty hard, openin' it up. Katie too." He pawed his junk fondly.
I could see why. Everything about it oozed devil-may-care masculinity. I imagined Tom in riding gear, stiff tailored leathers bulking up his already large frame. It made me start to chub.
"Thought we might mix it up a bit". His smirk was back.
"On that?", I nodded. The idea gave me a naughty jolt of adrenaline. It wasn't exactly public, but it was more adventure than I'd expected.
I looked down to his crotch and noticed he'd sprung up with me. I didn't need to wait for a cordial invitation.
"Get to it babe. Turn daddy's crank."
Tom rested his ass sideways against the bike's seat, and I set up on my knees in front of him. In a flash, I fished his trimmed cock and balls over his waistband and wrapped my lips around the fat semi. It started to swell as I tongued the underside.
"Such a hot daddy cock", I muttered. It was a totally earnest admission of desire.
I continued to suck, bobbing my head up and down on his expanding meat. It looked big to begin with, but I was always shocked by its final size. I never quite believed it could grow to that ridiculous 2" width. Within a minute, his 7" were standing at total glorious attention.
"Fuck baby, you get me so hard. Such a good little motor slut."
I pulled back on his stiff manhood and let it spring out of my mouth with an exaggerated pop. I looked up at his distant expression, and revelled in the scene. Something about the bike, the dirt, and the smell of oil, it really got me going. Clearly it was working for him too.
I grabbed the base of his enormous fuck-stick and smacked it against my cheeks. It felt so right having that male power filling my senses, entranced by the heavy wet slaps it made each time it struck my soft skin.
With my free hand, I pulled his shorts down further, giving myself more room to maneuver. Then I dove back under, swallowing him to his incredible root. My fingers moved between his legs, massaging his taint and low-hanging balls, and he spread his stance to accommodate.
"Shiiiit that's the way, baby. All the way down on daddy's big biker cock."
I hummed around his throbbing pole in lust and appreciation.
Compared to Zak, Tom's member didn't poke my Adam's apple, but his girth was a different challenge. Even with my practice, it stretched my throat to the limit. I loved that about his dick, that I could do this to it, and that I could do it for him.
Over and over I vacuumed his cum-cannon into my silky gullet, gargled it in that elastic embrace, then tugged it out against maximum suction. Each entrance forced me to gag. Each withdrawal allowed me a gulp of air. Tom quivered whenever his swollen ridge breached my inner tightness.
"Unh, Christ! That's fuckin' beautiful", he hissed. "So much daddy cock in that whore throat. How the fuck does it fit?"
I came up for a breather and slapped myself again, relishing the sheer scale of my conquest. My lungs burned and my eyes watered. His rigid tool squelched on my tongue, coating it salty-sweet precum.
Panting, I circled my fingers around his straining rod and slowly drew upward, wringing out a final drop. The clear bead glistened tantalizingly on his tip, until I swiped it off to savour his flavour.
"Fuck I love your cock. Feels like it's gonna tear me open."
I used the pause to dig into his sac, painting my forehead in ball-sweat and spit. It was like a drug having those honest-to-god baby-makers wash over me. Combined with his musk, I was purple and leaking in my boxers.
A quick grunt from Tom reminded me where I was, and I reluctantly jumped back into the rhythm. For the next few minutes, I jammed my nose into his crotch with abandon, his infectious enthusiasm pushing me to increase the pace. Before long I was red in the face, gorging myself on my prize.
I pictured him tossing me over the saddle and fucking me right there, taking my pussy in primal need. I imagined he and I straddling his bike, his monster cock sawing into me as I sprawled wantonly over the gas-tank. These fantasies fueled me, clenching my hole and dampening my jeans.
Up until now, Tom had been pretty passive, apparently lost in his own fantasies, but at that moment my efforts became impossible to ignore. His hands rose from his sides and wrapped themselves around my skull. I expected to be forced deeper, but unexpectedly, he pulled me off of himself. I gazed up in wonder, over his still clothed chest.
"Nice work baby", he grinned. "You good to finish the job? Daddy's about to empty his balls down that magic thrussy of yours."
I nodded hastily, with absolutely no hesitation. This is exactly why I was here, and there would undoubtedly be more loads before the night was through.
"Fuck I love that", he replied.
In an instant, Tom's girp rammed me down and buried his schlong in my neck. Oozing precum greased the rough entry. There wasn't even time to guard my teeth.
Instead of going balls deep, he held himself about an inch back, so that his head just poked into my throat, hovering at the narrowest constriction. I swallowed hard to increase his pleasure.
With precise control, he bounced me up and down, sliding just past the point of maximum friction, then retreating. With each round the cycle accelerated. I sat back and let him do what he needed, abandoning my body to the task.
"Shit, I'm almost there", he whined. "Yeah, just like that. So fuckin' tight."
I didn't know how much more I could take, but I refused to give in, to rob him of this bliss. The "Guh. Guh. Guh." as he pistoned my spunk-trap was deafening in my ears.
Then, with one final thrust, I felt his head flare even wider, and he pushed balls deep.
"Choke on this load, babe!", he cried. "Fuuu-cking shiiiit!"
Pulse after pulse of hot cum squirted into my throat, bypassing my mouth completely. I tasted nothing as the sticky cream shot into me, firing directly into my stomach. All I could do was squeeze tighter, hoping to enhance his quaking ecstasy. My reward was already part of me.
It took Tom a few seconds to come down, and he only released me when I tapped his hand for air. He quickly obliged and I exhaled his softening shaft. Fresh oxygen flooded my lungs and brain.
"Fucking intense!", I coughed. Then I hugged his waist, aching for more contact.
"Hop up", he said. It was a command, but his eyes were glazed. "I'll finish you off." I had entirely forgotten my own raging hardon.
"Nah", I winked. "I'm saving it for round two."
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