This story is an original work of fiction. It should not be reposted or reproduced in whole or in part without the author's consent. This story is meant to be entertainment for consenting adult readers and not meant for anyone who is offended by aggressive/kinky gay sex. If you do not enjoy this type of material, or if it is illegal in your country or place of residence, please stop reading immediately.
I love hearing your comments and suggestions: elliottpatterson02@gmail.com
And as always, if you are able, please consider making a gift to the Nifty Archive: http://donate.nifty.org/donate.html
==ON CALL SLUT FOR THE FRAT BRO==
PREVIOUSLY:
"Have fun?" Carson said, smirking.
"Yes sir!" I replied.
I handed him the index cards and he shoved them into his pocket. I stayed on my knees, hoping he'd want his own turn, but he just laughed, shook his head, and motioned to the bag.
"I think you've had enough for one night, pig."
Carson smuggled me back out of the house and back to my dorm. When I got to my room, I immediately stripped down and jerked myself at the thought of the night's events. I'd swallowed 12 loads, had my mouth around 15 different dicks, and drank about a gallon of piss to boot. I came quickly, shooting so hard I hit my face.
I fucking loved Delta house.
CHAPTER 11: What's Mine Is Yours
I heard from Carson a couple days later, not because he wanted service, but to thank me for helping with the test, and to let me know that all 15 pledges had made it into the fraternity. I knew that meant that Carson may now have a Little Brother. I wondered how that could affect me.
He had promised to let me know who I'd blown, but not when or how. Of course curiosity was killing me, but I didn't dare ask. According to Carson, Delta didn't make their new brothers public until the end of the year. New brothers were still on a sort of probation until they finished their freshman year, to instill a sense of "humility" before they could take their place openly as the big men on campus. I had to laugh at the idea of a Delta man being humble.
In an attempt to satisfy my curiosity, I stalked the Instagrams and Snapchats of various Delta brothers I found online who weren't set to private, trying to read the tea leaves and divine who might have been a new inductee. I found nothing.
Rather, this began a rather fallow period in my sex life. The next few weeks, the dreary dead of winter, were pretty boring. Mostly I was just going to class, studying, and jerking off to the memories I'd made. The gloryhole experience made many appearances, even though I only had dicks and voices to inspire my self-abuse.
Which is not to say I didn't want more. Of course I did, desperately. I staked out the basement bathroom after every econ class, but never saw Jake there again. (Nor was I entirely sure I wanted to...my ass was sore as hell after that last encounter.) Hockey was consuming all of Carson's free time, so much that I barely got any action from him, only the occasional quick unloading of his balls down my throat or up my ass.
He didn't make me attend any more home games, but I went anyway, every time. Even if I wasn't getting his dick afterward, I still relished the opportunity to watch Carson in action. He was his purest self on the ice, commanding, quicksilver, a vision of power and speed. For someone who a few months prior had never so much as seen a hockey game, I'd unwittingly become a fan.
It was the Sunday after one of their last home games that I finally got to spend some quality time with Carson again. I was eating brunch at the dining hall with some friends when he texted with his usual directness:
"Clear your afternoon. I'm coming over in an hour."
My cock chubbed up just from this. I made an excuse about having to get to a study group and ran back to my dorm. I quickly tidied up my room and did my bottoming prep. Not long after I'd lubed my ass, there Carson was, knocking on my door. I opened it and he barged in.
"Hey," he grunted, before dropping his parka and flopping down on my bed.
He looked a mess. His eyes were bloodshot and he seemed green around the gills. He was wearing a hoodie and sweats, carrying a red Gatorade, half-drunk. Of course my gaze had gone straight to his bulge.
"Hello sir," I said. "You okay?"
"Just hung the fuck over, bitch." He groaned as if in pain, throwing an arm over his eyes. "The boys fuckin' sent it last night after the win. Did a power hour at the hockey house then kept raging all night."
He wiggled his feet. I took the hint and stripped off his sneakers and socks, and began massaging them. I mostly focused on the massage but also incorporated some kissing and toe sucking like I knew he liked. He still had his arm thrown across his face, but his other hand had found its way inside his pants, lightly stroking himself. My mouth watered.
After a few minutes of servicing his feet, Carson bridged his hips and pulled his pants and underwear down in one fell swoop. He laid back and grabbed his hard cock by the base as I pulled the tangle of his clothes from his ankles.
"Lemme get that throat," he said as he shook his dick.
I crouched over his waist and impaled my mouth onto his pole. I had my nose in his blonde pubes instantly, and began sucking him up and down with long strokes. I tasted a little precum, and felt proud when he let out an appreciative groan.
"Fuuuuuck," he said. "I need this. I boned some Alpha Phi last night but I was so hammered I couldn't keep it up. Was like trying to stuff a sausage back into the casing."
I tried to suppress my disgust at the thought of Carson's cock inside a sorority girl a few hours earlier and focused on the task at hand.
He let me suck him for a long time. Probably an hour. For the most part I just serviced his cock, which for me lost none of its hardness, but sometimes he'd fuck up into my throat with a hand on the back of my head. My jaw may have been sore but I wouldn't have changed a thing.
I'd recently braved a local sex store to buy some poppers, and at some point during the blowjob Carson noticed the bottle on my desk. He grabbed it and examined it.
"I've seen Jake use this shit with his bitch before. What's it do?"
I spit out his dick for a second and caught my breath.
"They're called poppers," I said. "They're good for bottoming, they loosen you up. It's kind of like a full body head rush. You just feel warm and super relaxed for like 30 seconds. Feels great while jerking off, too."
Carson considered the bottle for a second and then handed it to me.
"Do some."
I unscrewed the poppers and took a hit. As I felt the rush come on and the world went blurry, I dove back onto his cock and sucked like my life depended on it. Carson's dick couldn't have tasted better. I went to town. As the high began to wear off, I looked up at his face. He was slack-jawed, mouth agape.
"Dude," he said. "That was next level. You've never sucked my dick that good before. This shit is magic!"
I giggled with his dick in my mouth, and inwardly beamed. Nothing made me feel better than pleasing this god. I withdrew for a moment.
"Wanna try?" I said, holding the poppers up.
"Fuck it," he said, and grabbed them from me.
At first it looked like Carson was going to pour them up his nose, so I showed him how to take a sniff, covering one nostril while holding the bottle under the other. As soon as he finished I went back to sucking his dick, doing my absolute best to show him how good he could feel.
Carson threw his head back as I slobbered and bobbed on his cock, taking the full length with each slippery stroke. I paused at the bottom, letting him feel the entirety of his cock inside my throat, gagging a tiny bit for effect.
"Woooooooooooooooooow," he said.
I looked up and his eyes were like saucers, shock and excitement on his face. I smiled with his dick in my mouth and kept going.
We kept at it for a little while longer, trading off the poppers and enjoying the sloppiest blowjob I could provide. I could sense, by the way Carson was increasing his grip on my head and his thrusts into my mouth, that his aggression was returning, and soon enough he commanded me to sit on his cock.
As I stripped off my pants and underwear, he pulled his hoodie and t-shirt over his head, revealing his perfect chest and abs. I couldn't stop but stare for a second, overwhelmed by his beauty. I also couldn't help but notice a small hickey at the base of his neck.
Carson wagged his dick at me, now slimy and rock hard, again. I climbed onto the bed and got into a reverse cowgirl position, squatting over his cock. He spread my cheeks wide with both hands.
"Get it, slut," he growled. "Sit on this dick."
I held myself up with one hand and reached around with the other to guide him toward my hole. I felt his head at my entrance and, with no little effort, sat down.
We groaned in unison. I began to bounce on Carson's cock, slowly at first and then picking up speed. I glanced back and he had both hands behind his head, armpits deliciously exposed, a look of anticipation and ownership on his face. It seemed a hungover Carson was a more passive Carson, at least for now.
I decided to put on the best show I could. I shifted slightly forward, toward his feet, and planted both hands on his legs, still squatting on his dick. In that position, I could more easily twerk my ass on his cock. So twerk I did.
"Fuck yeah," a lusty voice said behind me. "Bounce on that big dick. Jerk me off with that tight little pussy."
Using his legs as leverage, I was able to squat up and down his whole length. I bounced and bounced, my ass hitting his hips with each stroke, his cock hitting my prostate every time. He bucked up slightly each time to get as deep as possible. It felt fucking fantastic.
I noticed the poppers lying on the bed and decided to turn it up a notch, so I squatted all the way down, steadied myself, and grabbed them for a quick hit. As soon as I'd inhaled I screwed the cap back on, tossed them aside, and put my ass into overdrive.
The world was spinning on an axis of Carson's dick. I felt weightless, the only thing holding me to earth the friction of his cock sliding in and out of my hole. Waves of pleasure washed over me each time I bottomed out. Our grunts and moans punctuated a slapping of skin against skin.
Suddenly, he pushed me off and I fell back onto the bed. I looked over: Carson had slid off and was standing in the middle of my room, panting, sweaty. His cock was engorged and slick with lube. On his face, a look of hunger I'd only rarely seen.
"I wanna go deeper," he growled.
He grabbed my hips and swiveled me until I was crosswise on my twin XL bed, head against the wall. I was clutching the poppers in my hand, and unthinkingly brought them to my nose, but first, I held them up to Carson. He regarded the bottle briefly, then gave me the slightest nod. I brought it to his face, pressed a nostril closed, and let him inhale. A deep, manful inhale. Once he was done, I took my own.
As always with poppers, time seemed to slow as the world warmed up.Â
His big jock hands found the insides of my knees and pressed them to my shoulders as he pointed his hockey stick at my goal. Looking down at it, he adjusted so he was aimed at his target, looked up at me, and took his shot.
Black.
Stars.
The night sky.
The Milky Way.
My dorm room dissolved, then with an aching slowness returned. Carson's dick plunged into my depths, over and over and over and over and over. I lost and regained consciousness, overwhelmed by sensation. To call it amazing would understate the extent to which, in that moment, I both was and was not myself, not human, all man, sex and sweat and effort and lust all reduced down to a column of flesh plunging in and out of its complementary hole, its home.
As I finally became aware of myself, my self, in those few seconds after Carson had shown me God, I looked up and saw his face. An intense look of concentration and, yes, you couldn't mistake it: desire.
Sweat dripped down his forehead, over his nose, and onto me. I caught it in my mouth without thinking or meaning to; I was his receptacle, the place into which he could flow.
We stared deeply into each other's eyes as he pounded my pussy into submission. An inapt phrase, as I was always under his power, as was my choice. Here I was, folded in half, Carson's, his face mere inches from mine. He couldn't have been deeper inside me. Two people couldn't have been closer.
The poppers started to wear off, but the pleasure didn't. My own dick was achingly hard. I could sense him nearing climax; at this point, I was well-attuned to his body's rhythms.
I reached up and dragged my nails across his back. I clutched him to me.
His eyes widened. His nostrils flared. With a roar, he buried his head in the nape of my neck and redoubled his thrusts. It didn't matter, my ass felt only ecstasy. I latched my own lips onto his neck, sucking hard, tasting the heat and musk and power. Softly, urgently, I heard in my ear the rough truths of a man on edge.
Fuck fuck fuck
Take that dick
Yes
Take that dick you fucking bitch
Take it
Fuck yeah fuck
Gonna breed your ass
Fuck
Fuck
Gonna get you pregnant, fuck yeah
Fuck fuck fuck
You're all mine faggot
Fuck yeah bitch
Take that cum
Fuck
Fuck
FUCK
FUCK
FUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUCK
Panting, he regained himself, and looked into my eyes once more. Where a few seconds ago I had seen an undeniable intensity, that hunger at the base of everything, now I saw a rueful softness. Not regret, no--but a bashful reticence, the kind of embarrassment you feel when you've opened yourself up just too much. A smile, but a sad one.
I knew that look. I'd given that look more times than I cared to remember. Being gay, you're always delicately straddling the line between confession and deception, between what you mean and how you want to be seen. The other side of desire is often shame.
I also knew, both for Carson's sake and for my own selfish need to maintain our fragile relationship, whatever it may be, that I couldn't let intimacy be its own enemy.
Gently, and never breaking eye contact, I pushed him off of me and out of me. Keeping a hand on his chest, I twisted myself the right way onto my bed and laid my head on the pillow, pressing myself as close to the wall as I could, leaving space. I reached a hand behind his shoulder and urged him onto the bed. To my surprise, he collapsed onto me, throwing an arm across my torso and laying his head on my chest. Half of his huge, perfect body covered my own, slick, heaving, heavy, spent. I stroked his hair with one hand that was beginning, under his weight, to fall asleep. Within a few minutes, he was too.
This is not a love story.
You may want it to be. But did I? Did I want to be Carson's boyfriend?
Of course I did.
But I hope you've realized by now that I'm a realist; it could never happen. I would take everything he was willing to give me and, privately, so much more, but he always controlled the boundaries of our arrangement, and I knew, beyond a shadow of a doubt, what was outside of them.
I don't mean that because I was willing to do anything for him. I mean it as a law of nature. It was tautological, an axiom, as sure as the sun rising and setting. Carson had decided what we were, and that was that.
This didn't make me sad, or at least not in the way you probably think. I don't know where I'd developed my cynicism, but it was there, and its hooks were in me. God forbid you ever get everything you want, I thought: you'll soon find it's not enough.
So no, while the man of my dreams napped on top of me, peaceful as a baby, I wasn't thinking: stay, be with me, be mine.
I was thinking: stay, wake up, my arm is pins and needles and I want you to fuck the life of out of me again, please.
Please.
When he did stir, I had myself been falling in and out of a light sleep. The heat in the dorm was torturously inconsistent--it seemed to know exactly when to be wrong. Now my room was stifling, and as Carson began to move, we both realized just how sweaty our bodies were.
His soft dick, still huge, had been pressed against my hip, keeping me hard the whole nap. If it bothered him to have my boner against his ripped oblique, he didn't give any indication. Carson wasn't squeamish. After all, his cock had already spent an intense few minutes sliding against Matt's inside me, their loads intermingled. And it seemed like the man almost had a preference for sloppy seconds, so his sub's dick, while of no interest, wasn't going to bother him.
Still, our bodies felt stale and slippery in an unpleasant way. I could sense relief in both of us when Carson twisted off of me and stood up. He stretched his arms out wide, his wingspan nearly touching both sides of my room, and gave a boyish yawn. I noticed on his neck a new hickey, darker and bigger than the one from the sorority girl. When he reached for his sweatpants, I frowned at the thought that our afternoon together had already come to an end.
How wrong I was. He grabbed his phone and dropped the pants back to the floor, then wagged his floppy cock without even looking at me.
"Gotta piss like crazy, bitch."
I leapt out of bed and knelt before him. My joints ached but I was always happy to receive him. As I wrapped my lips around his dick, Carson shook his head.
"No, open up. Don't swallow until I tell you."
I withdrew, held my mouth open, and waited. Carson was pointing his phone at me in such a way I could tell he was taking a video. At this point, he had so many videos of me in compromising positions that I didn't care. The trust between us, twisted though it may be, was strong.
After a few seconds of waiting, I saw a drop begin to form, and then his stream erupted from his piss slit and flowed straight into my open mouth. It was yellow, acrid, and bitter, a real hangover piss. Despite myself, I loved it.
I kept my throat closed and let it fill my mouth. Just before it was about to overflow, Carson pinched off the stream. He had a smug look on his face.
"Fuck yeah faggot," he said. "You like being my toilet? You like letting me unload my piss right into your pathetic little mouth? You wanna swallow that piss?"
Obviously I couldn't say anything, so I put on my best doe eyes and gave a small nod. Anything more would make a mess.
"I bet you do, bitch. Swallow."
I gulped it down and smacked my lips, putting on a show.
"Taste good?"
"Yes sir!" I said. "I love when you bless me with your piss!"
Carson laughed with a cruel edge. He smacked his big soft cock against my lips.
"You love to be my fuckin' urinal, don't you faggot? You'd drink my piss all day if you could."
"Oh yes sir! I'd love to drink all of your piss. If it comes out of your beautiful dick, it should end up in me."
His smile widened.
"Good boy. Open up."
I opened my lips. He rested the head of his dick on my lower lip.
"Gulp it all down," he said with all the confidence of a man who knows he's in charge.
His stream began again, and I gulped down as often as I could. It was much harder to drink this way, with my mouth open rather than suckling his head, but I focused on not choking and managed to swallow it all. As I knew he wanted, I stared into his phone's camera with hungry eyes so it looked like I wanted this more than anything. Which, to be fair, I did.
When Carson finished pissing, he shook his dick a few times to get the last few drops, then gave my cheeks a few hard smacks with it.
"Good little pig bitch," he said. "You make an excellent toilet."
He stopped recording then flopped back down onto my bed, face down, hugging the pillow.
"Not sure if I want another nut yet, but why don't you eat my ass and lick my nuts for a while?"
I readily agreed, and climbed onto the bed. His ass, a perfect bubble, sculpted by the gods, lay before me. I placed each hand on a cheek and spread them, exposing his pink little hole, slightly darker than the skin around it. Like most straight guys, Carson didn't bother to trim his pubic hair, and there was a small patch of hair around his asshole, but otherwise he was fairly smooth.
When I dove in, tongue first, I was greeted with a ripe, manly musk and an equally delicious taste. His hole didn't yield immediately, but as I lapped at it I could feel him relaxing, and the groans from the other end of the bed encouraged me to continue. I ate his ass for a good while, sometimes giving his big ball some service as well. Carson seemed content to play on his phone and give the occasional grunt while I tossed his salad. I could hear him texting back and forth with someone.
"Hey bitch," he said, not turning around. "What are you doing for spring break?"
"Probably just going home, sir."
"Can you stick around campus?"
"I think so. I'd have to give my parents an excuse. Why?"
"Let's just say I may be able to keep you entertained all week if you can."
I could hear the grin in his voice, and I knew he was planning something wild. Nothing excited Carson more than pushing me further and further down a path of sexual corruption. A whole week of it sounded like a piggy dream.
"I'll see what I can do, sir. Shouldn't be a problem."
"Good."
He kicked me away and stood up. His dick had grown nearly back to full mast.
"Now hang your head over the edge of the bed. I feel like fucking a load down your throat."
Carson texted me with questions a few times in the weeks after, but I didn't see him much. Hockey was gearing up towards, hopefully, a successful post-season campaign, so his time was limited. The questions he asked were all geared toward spring break. Did I have any plans, or could I make myself free the whole time? When was my last class before the break? The sort of thing that got me excited about the possibility of spending an extended period of time serving him. Of course I eagerly made myself amenable to everything. Nothing would make me happier.
Then, his season ended abruptly. The team was eliminated in the semifinals of their conference championship, making it impossible for them to make the NCAA tournament. The next evening, Carson keyed into my room with no announcement and fucked the shit out of me in anger. It was hot as fuck. I could barely walk after.
The following Wednesday night, a few days before spring break, Carson summoned me to Delta.
I was surprised he told me just to show up; no hockey bag subterfuge this time. When I arrived at the imposing front door to the Delta mansion, I texted I was there and within a minute, the door was opening and there was Carson, shirtless and wearing just grey sweatpants and flip flops.
"Hey dude," he said, friendly and casual. "Come on in."
I watched the play of his back muscles as I followed him into the cavernous entry hall and up the stairs. As we climbed to the second floor, a burly redhead came skipping down past us. He stopped to dap Carson.
"O'Grady! My man!"
"Sup Conway? We're getting dice going soon if you want in."
"Maybe later. Gotta work on a project with my boy Teddy here."
I had suspected the ginger was O'Grady when he first appeared, and the smirk that came to his mouth when Carson introduced me confirmed that he knew who I was.
"Hey...man," he said as he looked me up and down.
"Good to meet you," I said, and offered my hand.
O'Grady hesitated for a second then clasped my hand in a tight handshake. As we shook hands he pulled me closer, looked deep into my eyes, and let out a chuckle.
"Never shook hands with a toilet before," he whispered in my ear.
With that he giggled to himself and lumbered down the stairs. I gaped for a second, surprised by the abrupt meeting, but quickly recovered and followed Carson, who was himself suppressing a laugh, up to the second floor. When we got to his room, the door was closed but I could hear voices inside. Before opening it, he stopped and turned to me.
"Don't fuck this up for me," he said sternly.
I nodded, suddenly nervous. Fuck what up?
Carson opened the door, and roughly shoved me in. I fell to my knees at the sudden push, hearing laughter and catcalls. When I looked up, I saw not merely Jake Thorn smiling back at me, but also five more Delta men. Five hot frat bros I'd never met before. Carson stood next to me and held a hand on my shoulder, keeping me down.
"Boys, meet Teddy, my bitch," he said, eyes gleaming with evil and delight. "Bitch, you know Jake. Meet five of the newest brothers of Delta, or should I say..."
He paused dramatically.
"Five new masters for you."
When I was finally able to pick my jaw off the dirty carpet, I surveyed the men in front of me. Each was different, and each was hotter than the next. To be sure, I'd be happy to service any of them, but the idea of submitting to all five seemed a tall order. I felt eagerness and fear battling within me.
Jake stood up and came to my other side. He grabbed my head and wrenched it back painfully.
"Open," he commanded.
I opened my mouth and he spit a huge loogie into it. I tasted whiskey in his spit. I swallowed and opened my mouth again to show it was gone. He smiled down at me, cruel and commanding, then pulled my gaze back to the other boys in the room, seated casually across Carson and Matt's couch and desk chairs. A handle of Jack sat on a desk, and a partially empty 30-rack of Natty Ice sat at the foot of the couch. In front of the closet, a suitcase lay open, clothes spilling out. The guys were all holding beers or red Solo cups, and I could tell from the looks I was getting that they'd been drinking for a while.
"What do you think, Conway?" Jake asked companionably. "Should we start with some introductions?"
"Why not?" Carson replied. I could tell by his tone of voice that he was enjoying showing me off. I had a pretty good idea of which pledges at least a few of them were, but let's allow the introductions to flow as they did. It's more fun that way.
"Well boys? Who'd like to start?" Jake asked.
The new brothers gave each other a glance. Finally, one spoke up.
"Yo, bitch," he said. "Fisher VanMeter the fourth. Chevy Chase, Maryland. I'm here to tear it up on the lax field, pound beers, and pound bitches. You're lucky to even be in my fucking presence."
"CUATRO!" the boys all called out. I assumed it was his nickname in the frat, a play on his ridiculous lineage. Some of them had snickered at Fisher's bravado, but I also noticed a couple eye rolls. He was a hot prepster, cut from a similar cloth as Jake. Standing about 6 feet tall, he had a slightly leaner build, sandy light brown hair, and a clean-shaven face that reminded me vaguely of a squirrel. He was wearing a Vineyard Vines t-shirt and khakis, with Rainbow flip flops on his feet. This was a guy who'd spent plenty of time at the yacht club.
"Hello sir," I said meekly.
Carson cleared his throat. "Don't forget to tell the bitch your pledge number from the night of the Manhood Test. After all the...work he did, the least we can do is help match dick to dude."
Another chuckle from the room.
"Right, Conway. Good idea," Fisher said. "I was pledge #1 that night. Hope you enjoyed swallowing my load first."
"Yes sir," I nodded. "Thank you for giving it to me."
Fisher gave me a smile of pure condescension. I hated it. I wanted his dick again.
"Who's next?" Carson asked.
"I'll go," another guy chimed in. "Andre Harris, but everyone calls me Dre. I'm from Eugene, Oregon, and I play varsity soccer. Oh yeah, and I was pledge 11 that night."
I remembered pledge 11. He was the one who'd given the guys a pump-up speech to get them ready for the test. And he had a delicious uncut cock.
Dre was the shortest of the boys, but still taller than me, probably 5'10" or so. Like Fisher, he had a lean, athletic body, but I could see from the legs peeking out of his gym shorts that he was stacked, at least on the bottom half, as you'd expect a soccer player to be. I guessed (and I'd learn later I was correct) that he was mixed-race, half black and half white, with a wild mop of curls and hazel eyes. He looked boyish and almost innocent, but I remembered how dominant he'd been at the gloryhole. I couldn't help myself.
"Hi daddy," I said with a tiny coy smile on my face.
The room CRACKED UP. Everyone was in stitches. Carson doubled over in laughter--I'd never seen him so animated. Jake clapped my shoulder so hard it hurt a little. Dre had blushed, but took the ribbing good-naturedly. I thought I'd made a small private joke but I hadn't expected such a raucous reception. When they recovered, I looked up at Carson with a questioning glance. He had tears in his eyes from laughing so hard.
"That was fucking gold, bitch," he said, wiping his eyes. "The pledges insisted Dre's pledge name be Daddy after his performance downstairs with you."
"And don't you forget it!" Dre said, trying and mostly failing to put on a deep, authoritative voice.
Another round of laughter. The room, I'd noticed, had a deeply masculine smell, between the seven frat boys and Carson and Matt's general lack of cleanliness. I wondered briefly where Matt was, but this didn't seem like his jam.
The initial tension had dissolved somewhat, leaving behind a relaxed, libidinous atmosphere still unsettled by the strange power dynamic. Here were two well-established frat bros, one their unquestionable leader and the other an alpha stud in his own right, introducing their younger charges to a world of covert homosexual dominance. I was so curious as to how this group had been chosen, whether the rest of the frat knew, and where this was all going. But I kept my mouth shut as I knew I'd get my answers, one way or another, in due time.
I was shaken from my reverie by a deep voice.
"I'll go next," the dude sitting in Carson's chair said.
This Delta stud had been pretty quiet so far, mostly just laughing along with the antics and nursing a beer. I could tell he was tall from the way his legs, spread wide in black Nike sweats, angled out from the chair. He was another white jock, with wavy chestnut brown hair under a navy snapback, a five o'clock shadow, and a sharp jawline. When I'd first surveyed the group, he was the one who'd caught my eye, painfully handsome and arrogantly sure of himself. Yet there was something else about this guy that intrigued me, a dangerous quality in the way he looked at me that was similar to Carson's own ineffable charisma and hunger.
"Danny. Wilton, Connecticut. I play lax too. I was pledge 15."
Danny was a man of few words, but they carried great weight. Pledge 15 had been my final customer and I couldn't possibly forget his perfect, uncut 9-incher. My eyes shot to his crotch, trying to make out that godlike bulge.
"LIL BRO" the other pledge brothers called out in unison. Danny rolled his eyes.
"Danny's my Little Brother," Carson said to me with a nudge of his knee, as if that explained it. I felt a twinge of jealousy.
"And mine," Jake added.
I looked up from one of them to another, confused. Huh? From what I understood, each new brother was assigned a Big Brother to guide them. So did Jake mean because he was Carson's Big that made him Danny's as well?
But then I looked back and forth between Jake and Danny and realized what he meant.
"Wait, so..." I began.
"That's right, dumbass," Jake said contemptuously. "Danny's my actual little brother."
Everything clicked into place. The strangely familiar quality of pledge 15's dick and cum. That deep voice commanding me to swallow. And now of course, their actual resemblance. Jake and Danny weren't the kind of brothers who looked undeniably like one another, but once you understood the shared genetics, you couldn't help but see the similarities. Where Jake's face was all angles, harsh and defined, almost too sharp, Danny's had a softer, rounder, more manly quality to it. I'd thought Jake looked like Superman, but seeing Danny, I realized I'd picked the wrong brother for that role. Here was Clark Kent in the flesh.
"Nice to meet you, sir," I said once I'd recovered from my epiphany.
"I'm next," another Delta stud said in an accent I recognized instantly. "I'm Hassan Jilani from the Kingdom of Saudi Arabia. I don't play any lame-ass American sport but I could take any of these bitches. And I know you remember my dick, bitch."
He wasn't lying. I'd clocked Hassan as soon as I'd walked in. His tawny skin and stylish beard--far thicker than any college freshman had a right to grow--gave him away instantly as the Arab stud, pledge 4, who'd fucked my face so well through the gloryhole. His eyes were a piercing light blue. Another tall guy, he was wearing a white fitted Polo shirt buttoned to the top that showed off his huge biceps and chest, and, unlike the rest of the frat boys who favored comfort over style, a pair of the sexiest jeans I'd ever seen on a man. No one could question Hassan's package in those.
"Nice to see you again, sir," I whispered. Something about this boy--nay, man--was more intimidating than the rest.
"I gotta say," he said with a sneer. "I'm disappointed. I thought I'd at least gotten my knob polished expertly by some ugly fat bitch I could invite over to suck out a load if none of the hunnies are putting out. Not some queer. You're gonna get punished for lying to us."
"Damn straight!" Fisher said, giving a high five Hassan half-heartedly returned.
"Bet," Dre agreed as he took a drink from his beer.
Danny just stared at me as though he wanted to eat me or kill me. Six to one, half dozen to the other.
I turned my gaze to the final brother. Sitting on the corner of the couch in a dirty Phish t-shirt and dirtier khakis, he was the tallest and lankiest of the bunch, and like Danny he'd been pretty quiet so far. Unlike Danny, he'd been giggling up a storm at the conversation. He had long dirty blonde hair and a sexy smattering of scruff. Based on his height and general stoner demeanor, I had a pretty good idea of which of the dicks I'd sucked was left.
"Hey dude," he said, finally. "Great to meet you. I'm Trey Freeman, I'm a freshman from Sarasota, Florida, undecided major, I'm on the tennis team, and I was pledge 8. And I gotta say, bro, I never been with a guy before but I can't wait to get back in that sweet throat of yours, if that's cool."
Once again the guys let out a peel of laughter. I even giggled myself at the totally off-track manner of his speech.
"Silver, how fucking baked are you?" Hassan asked between chuckles. Trey just shrugged and giggled boyishly. Once again I was left trying to guess the origins of his pledge name.
"Long Dong Silver," Carson muttered to me, as if reading my mind.
"Don't I know it," I whispered back, feeling sassy. Trey had the longest dick I'd ever seen. Carson shook his head and cuffed me lightly on the back of my head.
"Alright boys," he said to the room. "Like I said, I'm loaning my bitch to you for spring break. You've officially met him now, he's already swung from each of your dicks, and you've had testimonials from me and Jake here about what he's willing to do for you. Not to mention the videos you've all seen of Teddy in action."
"Fuck yeah we have," Dre said, and made a show off guzzling his beer. The rest gave out a series of catcalls and whistles. I felt like a piece of meat.
"Me and Jake are gonna go upstairs and have a little talk with the bitch. While we're gone why don't you guys figure out how you wanna split up his time? Cool?"
The guys agreed. Carson grabbed my arm and dragged me up and out of the room. Suddenly I realized what he meant: he wouldn't be here. I'd be fully at the pledges' mercy. I found myself terrified at the prospect of being left alone with five guys I didn't know, without Carson there. This wasn't what I'd bargained for. I thought I was going to spend a week serving my master. My stomach had dropped through the floor as they guided me up the stairs and into Jake's room. As soon as the door was shut I turned to Carson.
"Sir, I don't know if this is such a good--"
Jake twisted me around and slapped me hard across the face.
"Did he ask?" he demanded. "Did he? You said you were willing to serve. You said you were willing to do whatever it takes. You even told Conway you wanted to be pushed further. You want access to Delta dick? This is what that looks like, faggot!"
He slapped me again, then walked over to his desk and poured a couple of Scotches, and handed Carson one before slumping down into his armchair. I collapsed to the ground and looked up at Carson with pleading eyes. He returned my gaze with a hard stare.
"He ain't wrong," he said, sitting on the edge of Jake's bed.
They both stared at me for a long moment. Clearly, my reticence was a major disappointment. And seeing that disappointment, especially in Carson's eyes, killed me.
"I'm sorry, sir," I said, my voice quivering, tears beginning to form in my eyes. "I'm sorry. I'm just scared. I don't know those guys, and if you're not here..."
Jake let out a loud sigh, and rolled his eyes. Carson stared into his drink for a second, looked at me, then handed me the glass.
"Calm your nerves," he said.
I took a sip of the Scotch, and then another. As the warmth of the booze spread through me, I did feel more relaxed. Emboldened, I threw back the rest. It burned as it went down.
Carson smiled gently.
"Look," he said, and then directed his glance toward Jake. "Maybe we didn't go about this the right way. Let's take a step back."
He and Jake exchanged a significant look. I saw a struggle for power between them, the conflict between Carson's ownership of me and Jake's precedence in all things. I'm sure there was much more to their dynamic that I couldn't possibly understand. Finally, Jake shrugged and tilted his glass, then began unbuckling his belt.
"If you're gonna go easy on your bitch," Jake said. "Can I at least get some dome while you do it? I haven't nutted in like 3 days."
"Of course, bro," Carson replied. "No need to ask. You know what's mine is yours."
Jake pulled his jeans and boxers down to his ankles and spread his legs wide. His big uncut dick was already half hard. I crawled in between his legs and began to worship it, wary of his simmering anger. His dick tasted ripe as fuck, like it had been marinating in his undies all day--which is to say, delicious.
"So here's the thing," Carson continued. "Jake's been trying to--what's the word you used?"
"Normalize," Jake muttered, eyes closed, enjoying the blowjob.
"Right. He's been trying to normalize having a faggot to serve us guys for a few years. I saw the light pretty early on, he took me under his wing, and now you're the beneficiary of that. Seems like a good arrangement, right? You've been fucking enjoying it. I know I have. But most of the other brothers are too narrow-minded to see the advantages of an eager fag slut. They're either too wrapped up in the idea it's gay or too big of pussies to man up and take what's rightfully theirs. So when we watched how certain guys stepped up during the Manhood Test, we both thought, here's an opportunity to expand the circle of like-minded brothers and hopefully make it so we didn't have to hide our extracurricular activities from the frat. Make it better for everyone, you feel me?"
"Yes sir," I said in a small voice after spitting out Jake's now-erect member. "What do you mean, watched?"
They both chuckled.
"Don't worry," Carson said. "We only had a camera on the pledges' side of the gloryhole. To make sure they didn't cheat or fuck with you."
"Not that some of us wouldn't have minded watching you put on a show too, faggot," Jake said. He pushed me back down on his cock and used his hands to gently guide me up and down. It was hard to listen to someone and give good head at the same time, but I did my best.
The fear that had overtaken me was slowly dissolving, especially as Jake's hostility seemed to wane. Getting your dick sucked tended to do that to a man. I was still worried about what they were expecting of me, but as Carson gave his explanation, I was beginning to see that this wasn't some casual decision to pass me off to the younger brothers, but rather a step in some larger plan they'd been cooking up.
"Anyway," Carson continued. "We had to tell the rest of the brothers the plan for the Manhood Test, so we knew it would eventually leak to the pledge class that they got their dicks sucked by a dude. Then we just sort of watched as the chips fell, and discreetly approached the five guys you met downstairs. Between their performance with you and their reaction to the reveal, they seemed the most likely to be fellow travelers."
"Even my fucking brother," Jake said with a derisive grunt as he held me down on his dick, impaled to the hilt. I did my best to breathe through my nose but couldn't help but gag, as I knew he wanted. Finally, just as I was about to pass out, he let me up. I gasped deeply.
Carson laughed at my predicament. I'd been trying to watch him out of the corner of my eye, and noticed his own bulge had been steadily growing as I blew his frat brother. I was hoping I'd get a chance at that tonight, too.
"Jake's just pissed to learn his little brother's got a bigger hog than him," Carson said with a chuckle.
"Whatever man. He's still a pussy," Jake said, then stood up and began fucking my face with deep, violent strokes. "And I've still got more meat than you ever will, bro!"
My nose was hitting his pubes, and his big hairy balls were slapping my chin with each wild stroke. After a few more thrusts, he buried his monster deep in my throat and began blasting his load with a satisfied groan. His dick was so thick I could feel each pulse as Jake fed me his kids. I felt so used, and I could tell my own dick was absolutely dripping precum into my CKs.
Once he'd finished nutting, Jake pulled out of my mouth and collapsed back into his chair, breathing hard. His dick was still mostly hard, red and angry. His foreskin was pulled back, and I watched in fascination as he began to shrink and it slid back over his head, all on its own.
"Thank you sir," I said to him. He grunted in acknowledgement.
Carson had pulled out his own dick and was lightly stroking it. It was still crazy to me how casual these guys were about sex around each other. I crawled over and took him right into my mouth.
"See bitch," he said, smiling down at me. "This is what I'm talking about. You don't even have to be told what to do. You just know what I want and you do it. You're a good little bitch boy. I appreciate your service. So when I'm in Cancun with the boys next week getting absolutely lit and piping every sorority slut in the Big 10, I wanted to make sure you were getting all the dick your faggy little heart desires."
"Frankly, he should be fucking thanking you," Jake interjected. I heard him typing on his laptop.
"You really should," Carson said with a grin as he bobbed my head up and down on his perfect cock. He pushed me off.
"Thank you so much for thinking of me, sir!" I said. As I spoke, I realized the decision had been made, but I still needed some assurances if I was going to put myself in such a vulnerable position. "But can I ask you a few questions?"
Carson pulled me back onto his dick for about six more vigorous thrust then pushed me off again.
"Try me, fag."
"Well sir," I began. "For one, why aren't those guys going to Cancun?"
"Oh right, that," he said as he pulled me back onto his dick. I was in heaven getting so much cock. "We have a tradition that the new pledge class has to spend their spring break doing some sort of major improvement to the house. My class built all the pong tables last year."
"And mine had to refinish all the fucking floors downstairs," Jake added, resentfully.
Carson laughed. "That would have sucked. But yeah, this year's pledges are gonna tear down and rebuild the back deck. It's falling apart. So the whole pledge class will be around, partying, bonding, and working on the deck. They each get to stay in their Big's room all week, and we've got a bit of a don't ask-don't tell situation going on with you. You won't have to hide from the others, but I'd keep the fun behind closed doors."
"And they're not allowed to use you as free labor," Jake said. "They try to get you to work on that deck and I'll fucking kick their lazy asses out of the house.
"Right, you're only here for one kind of labor," Carson said with a laugh. "All dick, no deck. Plus, I've laid out some ground rules for them."
And as he told me each rule, he held my face down on his cock, his blonde pubes tickling my nose.
"Rule #1, keep it discreet. No pics or vids, unless there's something I wanna see. Nothing public. Doesn't have to stay in the house but don't get caught."
He let me up for a breath. I nodded, and then he plunged back in. Drool was dripping down my chin.
"Rule #2, don't involve anyone else. None of the other pledges, no one. You're my bitch out on loan. They don't have that privilege. They're deciding right now how they wanna split up your time and that's up to them, but no one else gets a piece."
Another breath. I nodded again. Carson seemed to be enjoying this. His dick was hard as iron. I dove back on it.
"Rule #3, they gotta return you to me in good condition. Nothing crazy or extreme, no blood, no shit, no damage to you. They can use and abuse you as hard as they want but at the end of the day you're still a person. Pathetic and insignificant, yes, but still a person. You'll get time to recover, eat, sleep, study, that sort of thing. In between being boned down left and right. So..."
He pulled out again and began smacking me across the face with his hard cock. My spit and throat slime, and his precum, splattered on me. I took it like a good bitch.
"That better be good enough for you. If not, fair enough, but this is the last time you'll see this dick."
My jaw, which was already sore as fuck from fitting two giant Delta dongs in it, dropped to the ground.
If I'd felt nervous before, this was something else entirely. I couldn't let it happen.
"Please sir, please! I'll do whatever it takes! I'll service whoever you want! I'll do anything, just please don't do that!"
I could feel tears swelling in my eyes. To have the best thing in my life torn away was a pain I couldn't bear. I surprised even myself with the depth of the despair I suddenly felt.
"Oh look, bro," Jake said. "The faggot's crying."
He laughed, a hard, cruel laugh. Carson just stared at me, impassive, still stroking his huge wet cock.
"So," he said. "You'll do it?"
I gulped. I had made my decision long ago. But he needed to hear me say it.
"Yes sir. I'll serve them for all of spring break. I'll do whatever they want."
Carson broke out into a broad, genuine smile. He looked at Jake.
"See!" he said. "My bitch knows who's in charge."
Jake shrugged.
Carson was stroking his cock and occasionally slapping it on my cheeks. I tried to get it back in my mouth, but he kept pulling it away.
"You wanna taste this load, faggot?"
"Yes please sir!"
"I don't know," he said, skeptical. "You haven't been a very good boy today. Only good boys get this cum. What do you think bro, should I give the faggot my nut?
"Nah dude," Jake said. I swiveled my head to him; he had a rictus grin on his face. "I don't think the faggot's earned the right to taste your load tonight. I'm glad I busted mine straight down his bitch throat."
"Yeah, I tend to agree."
I was so confused. I'd never had to earn Carson's load before. I'd swallowed dozens; it wasn't a big deal not to get it. But something in that moment, at my most vulnerable, when I'd nearly lost him, made it so all I could think about was getting Carson's nut.
"PLEASE sir!" I begged. "Please can I have your load? I'll do anything for you. You know that, anything!"
I prostrated myself on Jake's plush carpet and began kissing Carson's feet desperately. Both boys laughed at my predicament, and I heard Jake whisper "Jesus."
Hey bro," Carson asked. "You gotta piss?
"Yeah, bro," Jake said. "Why?"
"Open up, faggot."
I climbed back to my knees, turned to Jake, and opened my mouth again. He stood up and loomed over me, the picture of dominance, then unzipped his fly and pulled his floppy soft dick out. Carson handed him his phone, and slung an arm around his shoulder. He was still jerking his cock with his other hand, and it was hard as ever.
"Hit record and give him a mouthful, would ya?"
"You got it man."
I heard the video start. Jake pulled back his foreskin. His cock head was red and glistening. Suddenly, a stream of piss shot out and hit my face, and then found its way to my mouth.
"Don't swallow yet," Carson commanded. I could see a dangerous mix of emotions in his eyes: lust, anger, power, and so much more.
I let Jake's piss fill my mouth, and he cut it off before it overflowed. I waited for my next command.
"Gargle," Carson said.
I gargled with the acrid liquid, feeling it bubble up in the back of my throat. If I hadn't been so practiced at taking Carson's piss by now, I probably would have gagged.
"Swallow."
I did, and quickly thanked Jake for his piss. They both snickered at me.
"Pathetic," Jake said.
"Again," Carson said between laughs.
Jake gave me another mouthful. This time I was ordered to swish with it before I swallowed his urine down. Then another, more gargling, and another, more swishing. Finally, Jake announced his tank was running out, and filled my mouth about halfway with the last of his piss.
"Alright bro, make sure you get this," Carson said. He began jerking himself hard, stroking his slick cock head and aiming it at my open mouth. He was biting his lower lip in concentration, looking so sexy it hurt to watch. Then, with an athlete's aim, he came right into my open mouth.
"Fuuuuuuck yeah!" he groaned as he nutted.
I could hear, and feel, the cum splashing into Jake's piss. Every drop found its target. None hit my face, my lips, or my tongue. I wouldn't get to taste his load after all.
Carson squeezed the last few drops from his dick, then put it back in his sweats. He grabbed me by the jaw and examined his handiwork.
"That's nasty, bro," Jake said, grinning ear to ear and still filming. "Look at your jizz floating in my piss. Nectar of the gods right there. So fucking gross!"
Carson didn't respond, just stared into my mouth like a dentist examining your teeth.
"Swallow," he commanded.
I swallowed the unholy mixture of their liquid donations in a couple of gulps, then opened my mouth again to show it was done. Carson seemed satisfied.
"Do a good job this week," he said. "Or that's the last load of mine you'll ever get."
They let me clean up in Jake's en-suite, then Carson and I headed back downstairs. The new brothers had sparked up a joint and were passing it around, laughing at a joke someone had made. When they saw us enter, they fell silent.
"Alright boys," Carson said brightly to the room. "The faggot's got his marching orders from me. I'll leave you to it. Have fun!!"
He turned to leave, and as he shut the door I saw a familiar look in his eyes: don't fuck this up.
I turned back to the pledges, and without thinking dropped to my knees. What I saw before me were five sets of eyes, hungry, eager, ready to show the world what alphas they truly were.
I gulped, then opened my mouth.
"Hello sirs. How many I be of service?"
TO BE CONTINUED...
UP NEXT: Teddy has five new masters to serve. Can he make it through spring break in one piece?
Thanks for reading! I've wanted to introduce more characters to keep the story dynamic, but it takes time to brainstorm and write. I appreciate your patience.
The next chapter will take a while. I have a general idea for it, but I haven't written a word. If you have ideas for how you think the new guys might want to use Teddy, let me know. I love to hear from readers: elliottpatterson02@gmail.com