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==ON CALL SLUT FOR THE FRAT BRO==
PREVIOUSLY:
"I thought you'd be a good faggot. Glad to see I was right."
With that, Carson pulled up his pants, hocked another loogie in my face, and left.
I quickly stood up, locked the stall door, whipped out my own rock hard dick, and jerked it a few times until I came hard into the toilet, the smell of my master's musk on my face and the taste of his piss on my tongue. This was going to be fun.
CHAPTER 2: Learning My Place
I was worried after our encounter in the library that Carson wouldn't actually ever reach out. What would a god like him want with a nerdy faggot like me? Surely he was just fucking with me.
I couldn't have been more wrong. That very night around 10 I was watching something on Netflix when I got a text from "Sir" that just said "faggot."
"Yes sir?" I responded immediately.
"Whitman Gym parking lot. Now."
I quickly threw on a jacket and stuffed an extra t-shirt into my pocket, knowing he liked to get messy. My dick, of course, was at full mast the moment I saw his text come up.
I walked to the athletic complex and found the parking lot for Whitman, which was the varsity athletes' private weightlifting gym. The building seemed closed and there were only a few cars in the dark parking lot. I texted "here."
An SUV near the back of the parking lot flicked its lights. My phone buzzed with a text: "Come to my jeep."
I walked to the Jeep and saw Carson sitting in the driver's seat. He indicated with a nod for me to get in. I opened the passenger's side door and was immediately assaulted by the scent of sweat.
"Hey faggot," he said, grinning. "Just got a pump in at the gym and that always gets me horny. Figured I'd start making use of my on-call cockslut."
He was wearing a muscle tee with the sides cut deeply, so I could see most of his chest and abs for the first time. Carson was even more ripped than I'd thought, with a clearly visible 8-pack and cum gutters to die for. My mouth was watering just seeing him.
He pushed his seat all the way back, lifted his hips, and slid his gym shorts and underwear down to his ankles. His cock wasn't fully hard, but on its way, and the smell emanating from his crotch was pungent and ripe.
"Start with my balls bitch," he said.
I leaned over and dove into his crotch, lapping at his hairy ballsack. He clearly trimmed his pubes but left enough hair for it to be matted down with sweat. The taste was heavenly. I did my best job giving his nuts a tongue bath while he forced my face into his crotch. As I glanced up to my left, I could see him on his phone stroking his dick to a full erection. The sounds of straight porn began to issue from his phone as he groaned, clearly enjoying the service I was providing.
After a few minutes of worshipping Carson's balls, he pulled me up by my hair and slammed my mouth right down onto his hard cock, impaling it in my throat. I sputtered and gagged but he held me down, bucking his hips up and roughly fucking up into my throat. I did my best to hold on and not puke, but after it was beginning to get difficult. Thankfully, he wasn't kidding about being horny as hell: a few thrusts later he grunted "fuck yeah" and buried himself all the way to the hilt. I felt his cock pulse in my throat as a torrent of cum streamed into my gullet. With some difficulty, I breathed through my nose until his orgasm subsided. Finally he let go of my hair and let me up.
"What do you say?" he panted, still coming down from the high of nutting.
"Thank you sir!" I eagerly said. I could feel my own dick straining inside my jeans, but I knew I shouldn't touch myself in his presence.
"Good job," he said, ruffling my hair in an almost brotherly way. I beamed.
For a few moments we sat there. Carson's eyes were closed and he had a satisfied look on his face. I wasn't sure if I was supposed to leave. Finally, he opened his eyes and started the engine.
"You want a ride home? Where do you live?" he asked.
"Umm, Balland. Lower campus."
"That's the honors dorm right?"
"Yes sir."
"Okay." He pulled out of the parking lot and drove in the direction of my dorm. A Drake song played on his stereo. We got to a red light and suddenly he turned to me as though an idea had occurred to him.
"Wait a second. That dorm is all singles right?"
"Yeah..."
"So you don't have a roommate?"
"No sir."
He smiled. "Sounds like I'm gonna need a copy of your room key."
A few days later, Carson texted asking for my class schedule. It turned out he was serious about wanting to know when I was free. And he made me get him a copy of my key so he could show up whenever he wanted. I never learned how he got into the building--you had to swipe your ID card--but he would show up whenever he felt like using me with barely a few minutes notice.
After midterms, I really became his on-call slut. Sometimes he'd go days without contacting me. Sometimes I was summoned three times a day. Many of our encounters were pretty standard and not worth going into too much detail, just a quick blowjob in his car or in my room. Carson may have lived in a giant frat house, but he was only a sophomore, so he had a roommate, making my single a perfect place to get his dick sucked. It also wasn't lost on me that I was a dirty secret, and knowing that this absolute stud was sneaking around to use my throat made feel strangely proud. I had no illusions that he was actually into me--I was expressly forbidden from touching myself or so much as taking off my clothes when I serviced him. But I knew that he liked what I did for him, especially because he kept pushing me further and further.
The weekend after I gave him my room key, I woke at 3am to a series of texts:
"Faggot u up?"
"Comin to u. Be ready"
"ALMOST THERE BITCH"
Fortunately, not 60 seconds before I heard the lock in my door turn, I was able to send back a quick "yes sir" to keep my end of our bargain.
Carson staggered in and leaned against the wall of my room, clearly wasted. He swayed in place, leering at me and smirking. His button down shirt was almost completely undone, showing off that perfect body.
"Hey, there's my fag. Miss me?" he slurred. He let out a huge burp and giggled at himself. I could smell the booze on him from across the room. As always, I walked over and got on my knees in front of him.
"Yes sir. How can I serve you sir?" I stared up at him, trying to be as meek and submissive as possible. I'd never dealt with a truly drunk Carson before, and given our previous encounters I suspected he could be a mean drunk, so I wanted to be prepared for anything.
For a second he just looked down at me, his eyes glazed over, before he straightened up and pawed at the door. "Bathroom!" he grunted, and knowing where this was headed I quickly opened the door and guided him down the hall to the men's room. With not a moment to spare, he ran into the toilet stall and began puking loudly.
After a few minutes, I heard the toilet flush so I figured he'd gotten it all out. I knocked on the stall and asked if he needed anything. With a boyish moan he asked for water and mouthwash. I grabbed both from my room and hurried back, and when I opened the stall door he was sitting on the toilet looking drunk as a skunk, but cleared out of his sickness. He gave me a smile when he saw the supplies and said "good boy!" in an almost friendly way. He swished with mouthwash before spitting it between his legs into the toilet bowl, then chugged the whole bottle of water. When he stood up, I noticed a patch of puke on his bare chest and pointed it out. He seemed disgusted with himself and began to take off his shirt.
This was my first time seeing Carson, my master, my god, my Adonis, totally shirtless, and even in his current state it was a sight to behold. He noticed me admiring him and scoffed, handing me his shirt and muttering "faggot." He dropped his jeans to the tile floor before stepping out of them fully naked (I guess Carson parties commando) and walked into the shower room.
While we may have had single rooms in the honors dorm, our showers were locker room-style, with 2 circular columns of shower heads in the middle of the room and no dividers. Except in the middle of the night, you had zero privacy. If the guys in the dorm had been even remotely as hot as Carson, I would have loved it.
Now, I gawked. Carson's body, in all its naked glory, was easily the hottest sight I'd ever seen in real life. The man must have had 5% body fat max. He was toned, not bulky, but you could see in his muscles a power waiting to be unleashed. As he let the water run down his body, washing away the remains of his puke, I openly admired his shape, the curve of his perky ass, the way his abs seemed to be drawn onto him, the heft of his big dick hanging over those full balls. I noticed him stroke himself a few times and looked up to see him watching me, watching him. That signature half-smile crept across his face, the cocky bastard.
He turned the water off and looked at me, hands on his hips. I wasn't sure what to do, so I approached and began to get on my knees, but before I could he slapped me across the face.
"No, bitch. Towel. I'm all wet."
"Yes, sir, sorry." I ran back to my room and grabbed a clean towel from my closet. I gave him the towel and he dried himself off, dropped the towel on the soaking wet floor, and walked into the hallway and back to my room buck naked. I gathered up the towel and his clothes and followed.
I found Carson sprawled across my twin bed. His dick hung heavy over his hip, and he scratched at his pubes lightly. I knelt in front of him, awaiting my orders, but his eyes seemed droopier by the second. Thinking I should take some initiative, I tried to tongue his balls, but he swatted me away and rolled over, mumbling.
"Forget it faggot, too drunk after all. Wake me up at 10."
I didn't know what to do. Here was Carson Conway, the hottest guy on earth, who over the past month had made me into his cocksucking slave, and all he wanted was to pass out in my bed? It didn't make any sense, and yet there he was, the ass of God facing me, already lightly snoring away.
I was, of course, hard as a rock. I waited until I was dead certain he was asleep before whipping out my own dick and quickly stroking myself to a huge orgasm while looking at his sleeping form. I grabbed a dirty sock and came into it, hard, muffling myself by biting my lip. After cleaning up, I set my alarm to vibrate at 9:55am, put together a makeshift bed on the floor out of hoodies and clean towels, and tried to get to pass out.
Did I sleep? It didn't seem like it. Every sound that issued from the bed above me gave me hope that Carson would wake up and want to stick his dick in my mouth. But nothing happened. He snored softly, occasionally turning over in bed. Eventually I must have slept a little, because I woke up to my phone vibrating under the pile of clothes I was using as a pillow, slowly piecing together where I was and why.
I stood up quietly and saw that Carson was still there, sleeping soundly. He'd turned onto his back and thrown off my covers, and like any red-blooded 19 year old boy, his dick was awake before he was.
Even sleep-deprived, I couldn't ignore that dick. I knew I was taking a chance, but he'd just said to wake him up, not how, so when my phone showed 10:00, I got on my knees next to my bed and softly slipped Carson's morning wood into my mouth.
Unlike all of our previous encounters, I knew a wake-up BJ would need to be gentle, so I slid slowly up and down his length, softly lapping at his mushroom head with my tongue on the upstrokes, burying my face in his pubes on the way down. His cock was letting out a constant stream of salty precum, which I relished licking up. As I was slurping on his cock, I looked up at Carson's face and saw that he had woken up, his eyes still hooded and sleepy. When we made eye contact, he smiled slightly and gave me an approving nod.
With that, I went to work in earnest. I knew his favorite thing was my throat, so I impaled myself all the way onto his giant dick and throatfucked myself as hard as I could. He let out an appreciative groan, and I felt a hand in my hair. For once, he wasn't forcing me, but merely guiding as he let me manage the pace of the blowjob. With one hand, I held his nuts in my hand and pulled lightly on them, like I knew he liked. My other hand roamed over his abs, feeling the taut ridges. I took a chance and played with one of his pert nipples, and was rewarded with a loud groan. I could sense his orgasm approaching, and within a few minutes my ministrations had him pushing my face into his crotch as he bucked his hips up into me, unloading wave after wave of cum down my throat.
Carson held me down on his cock for a good long while, softening in my mouth. I tried to pull away but he held firm, whispering "stay" with his eyes closed. A few seconds later he sighed and began to feed me his morning piss, which I swallowed down gratefully. It was a huge nasty piss load, but I had learned to love every second of being his urinal. Once he was done he batted my face away and stood up. As he stretched his beautiful body, he let out a loud fart, filling the room with a rank smell. He looked at me and giggled lewdly, breaking what had until then felt like an intimate moment between us.
"Thanks for the wake up call, bitch."
TO BE CONTINUED...
UP NEXT: Finally brought inside Delta house, Teddy's submission to Carson gets dialed up another notch...or three...
Thanks for reading! If you enjoyed the story, have feedback, or have ideas for future chapters, I'd love to hear from you: elliottpatterson02@gmail.com