This is my first story. Email me if you like it. Thanks. lukex@subdimension.com
Servicing Brad
The year after I got out of college, I shared a small two-bedroom apartment with a guy named Brad. We met after I placed an ad in the local paper looking for a roommate and he showed up. Things worked out pretty well, as we were both pretty easy-going people who comfortably shared our space. It was your standard post-college roommate situation, at least for the first couple of months.
Brad and I weren't very alike. He was your typical jock, if a little more enlightened than most. He had some job in sales for a magazine, and usually would go to the gym after work or play soccer or lacrosse, then come home and veg out in front of the TV. We were both new to the area and neither or us had made many friends yet.
Brad was very a-typical in his looks. He was tall, about 6'2" which is a good four inches taller than I am, and had a fantastic body. He was sculpted like a Greek statue, with wide, smooth pecs that tapered to a narrow waist. His arms were well-filled out, but not too bulky; he was definitely a strong guy, but his body was more toned than bulked. He had long muscular legs, covered with a thin layer of light brown hair, while his chest was perfectly smooth.
And that face - he had a naturally handsome look, the perfect balance between being pretty and being rugged. Deep blue eyes sat atop a Roman nose, with thick red lips and a square jaw. He had chestnut brown hair of medium length. He was quite a hunk.
We had been living together for about a couple of months when I decided I should probably tell him about myself. It was practically a non-event. He had been watching the tube when I came into the living room and told him I wanted to talk. When I told him I was gay, he just kind of shrugged and said "oh, yeah, that's cool, man." There was nothing else to say. He didn't seem to be affected by it at all.
In the next few days I looked for clues that he might be acting differently, but there were none. He still came out of the bathroom just wrapped in a towel after showering, sat next to me on the couch when we watched TV. Everything seemed normal.
One night a few weeks later, we were hanging out watching TV. There was really nothing worth watching, and Brad just started aimlessly changing channels, not paying any attention.
"So have you had sex with a lot of guys?" he asked me, just out of the blue.
"No, not really," I answered. "A few, maybe 5 or 6."
"And you liked it?"
"Yeah," I said. "Of course I liked it."
"But let me ask you - do you really like to give a guy a blow job? Or do you just do it so that you'll get one back?" he asked, genuinely interested.
I looked over at him. "Well, yeah I like to give blow jobs. In fact, I like to do it whether or not I get one in return." I was starting to become intrigued by this line of questioning. "Why do you ask?"
He looked a little sheepish. "Well, it's just that when I make out with girls, they almost never like to do it. You practically have to beg them to, and even then you can tell they don't like it. Or you have to get them drunk. I just wondered if anyone really likes to do it."
"Yes, Brad, someone really likes doing it." I was starting to get interested. "I love sucking dick; it's probably my favorite thing to do."
Just then the phone rang and Brad jumped up to answer it. I could hear from the other room that it was one of his soccer friends, so I grabbed the remote and turned to the TV.
It was only a couple days later that things picked up where we left them. Brad and I were sitting on the couch, as usual, watching the tube. He had just gotten home from the gym, and his hair was still wet from his shower. He was wearing a T-shirt and skimpy gym shorts and every now and then I stole a glance at his crotch and beautiful legs.
"At the gym today, this guy was talking in the showers about how the girl he lives with is such a great lay," Brad said. "Sounded like a lot of talk."
"Oh yeah?" I replied, not really paying attention.
"Yeah. I guess she even gives him blow jobs when he wants them, and he says she really gets into it. Makes them that much more enjoyable."
"Huh," I said, glancing at Brad out of the corner of my eye. "Yes, I guess if the person sucking you off is into it, it'll be a good blow job."
"Hmm," Brad said, as he stretched his arms out and lay them on the back of the couch. He turned his head towards me and looked into my eyes. "I guess so." I felt his hand graze the back of my neck. "I'd like to see for myself. You know?"
Was this incredible stud that I had lusted after for months suggesting I blow him? I was still thinking about how I might respond when I felt his strong hand grasp the back of my neck. In one sweeping motion, he pushed my head down on the couch, towards his lap. I was so taken aback I didn't even get a chance to resist, not that I would have. He moved his hand up to the back of my head and maneouvered my face just above his crotch.
He held my face there, an inch above his dick. "If you don't want to do this, just say so," he said quietly. Not three seconds of silence had passed when he pushed my head into his crotch, rubbing my face all over the sheer fabric of his shorts. I could feel his cock sliding about underneath the material.
Brad leaned forward and slowly, with his other arm, began to ease my body off the couch until I was kneeling on the floor. He sat up slightly and positioned me on the floor between his legs, without ever letting go of my head, still holding it pressed against his crotch. He reached down and pulled down his shorts.
He had a beautiful dick. It was a good 5 inches, still completely soft, surrounded by two generous balls and a mound of soft brown hair. I leaned forward and all at once slurped his whole flaccid dick in my mouth. I massaged it with my cheeks and tongue and felt it growing pretty quickly.
I started to thrust up and down on it, sucking hard. In less than a minute his cock had grown to a rock solid eight inches. It was really perfect - long and thick enough to completely fill my mouth but still leave me able to take it all the way. I pushed and pulled myself up and down on his dick. He started to moan softly, and I looked up at him. He had his head thrown back on the couch, eyes closed, and his hands clasped behind his head, exposing the muscles of his arms as they tapered down to where his arms met his chest. God, he was such a fucking hunk that I was getting close to shooting myself just from the sight of him and the feel of his dick down my throat.
I could feel him starting to tense up, ever so slightly. "Yeah, suck it," he said quietly. I deep-throated him as far as I could go, burying my face into his crotch and massaging the head of his cock with my throat muscles for several seconds until I pulled back up. I slid up and down and felt that he was close. He moaned loudly, "I'm gonna cum" and reached down to pull my head off him, but I resisted and kept his cock in my mouth. I felt the first strong spurt of his cum, shooting against the back of my throat and I swallowed greedily. He kept shooting until his dick suddenly plopped out, and the last shot or two hit me in the cheek. Then he was spent.
He looked down at me, on my knees before him, with some of his cum dripping down my cheek. I just looked up at him and down at his dick.
"Um," he said, clearly uncomfortable.
"So, was that good?" I asked. "Did you find out what you wanted to know?"
He eyed me and it seemed in a moment something clicked in him. "Yeah," he said. Just "yeah."
"Good," I said back. And he stood suddenly, so that his cock and balls were dangling in my face. A small drop of cum was resting at the tip of his dick, and he took his cock in his hands and shook it, so that in one long strand the drop of cum slipped down to rest on my upturned face. He smiled, and said "later, roomie" and walked out.
Two days later, I came home from work to find Brad sitting on the couch, again wearing only a T-shirt and running shorts. He looked up at me and smiled. "Did you have a good day today?" he asked.
"Yeah, it was okay, I suppose," I replied. "You?"
"Well, whenever I got bored, I just thought about the blow job I was gonna get when I got home."
"What makes you think you're going to get one?" I asked.
He looked at me, not sure of my meaning. His gaze tightened. "Because I know that the cocksucker I live with will suck me off if I want him to. Get over here."
"Look, Brad, I just got home," I began to protest, meekly. "I gotta..."
"You gotta suck some cock, that's what you gotta do. Get over here, I said." He pointed to the floor in front of him. I walked towards him. "On your knees," he snapped his fingers, again pointing to the floor.
I kneeled down between his legs. He reached forward and grabbed me by the back of the head, pulling me down to meet his crotch. He lifted the waistband of his shorts with the other hand. "Pull them down," he commanded, moving my head so my mouth was just above the raising fabric.
I took hold of the shorts in my teeth and tried to pull them off. It was hard to do, but he helped a little by easing them down with his other hand. As I tried to yank them off, my nose and forehead brushed against his dick, which was still pretty soft. Eventually, I had pulled the shorts off his waist and halfway down his thighs, and then let go. "All the way," he said, pulling in his knees against the sides of my head. I grabbed hold again with my teeth and pulled them the rest of the way down his legs, his tense leg muscles pressing against my face as I moved down. After I got them off one foot, he placed his other foot against the side of my face and pushed off to release the shorts completely. At last they were off.
Brad had beautiful feet. I'm not into feet, as a rule, but his were perfect. When he would walk around the house in jeans and barefoot, I couldn't take my eyes off how perfect his feet looked shooting out of his jeans. Now with one of them resting on my face, I gently rubbed against it.
"Lick it," he said, interested in this new development. I reached out and licked the bottom and side of his foot. He stuck his toes in my face. "Suck them," he said and I did, licking and sucking each one.
"Alright, now time to blow me," he said, and pulled me back up into his crotch. "Lick it all over," he ordered, holding my head just near his cock. I reached out my tongue and licked at his cock. I licked all around the head, and then began licking up and down the shaft - it began to get hard. He brought up his other hand to my head as well, so that now he had both hands on the back of my head, guiding my every move.
"Okay, cocksucker, time to eat some dick." Brad pulled my face down and pushed up his cock, spearing it into my mouth. I closed my lips around it and began to suck gently, slowly moving it up and down in my mouth. "Yeah, that's the way. Suck that dick," he said, breathing in and out. His hands had mostly relaxed, so I started pumping my head up and down on his cock, plunging his dick a little further into my mouth on each thrust.
He started to breathe a little heavier. "Oh, yeah, suck it." He grabbed hold, suddenly and tightly, and I turned my eyes up to look at his face. He was looking down at me with such a look of lust and determination. His eyes met mine and he said, "all right, suck that dick, you cocksucker faggot." He began to rapidly pull my head up and down and thrust his dick into my eager mouth, fucking my face like mad. With each push, my nose would get buried deep in his soft pubic hair, where he would hold it for an extra second, pushing his cock deep into my throat. His breathing started to get heavy. "Okay, suck it. Come on, suck on that cock like the good little cocksucker you are. You love to eat dick, don't you?" I moaned involuntarily, overcome by the intense fucking my throat was getting.
Brad started to lift up off the couch. "I'm going to cum. Oh yeah, I'm gonna shoot my load down your cocksucker throat." All at once he pushed me down hard, holding my head against him while his hot spunk shot out and into my throat. "Swallow my load, cocksucker!" he shouted. He started to pull out, and grabbed his dick with one hand, keeping the tip in my mouth and rubbing it wildly. Hot jism sprayed out all over my mouth - I could taste it everywhere. He pulled his cock out, still jerking it furiously, and a few more drops sputtered out onto my lips and up my nose. He held my head there, resting his cock with its dripping cum against my face, so that his cum and my spit continued to drip onto my forehead, and eyelashes, and cheek, and lips. He rested his head against the back of the couch, not loosening his grip on me, and breathed deeply.
"Whew," he said, exhaling. A minute or two passed, I stayed there kneeling before him--he still had a tight grip on the back of my head, holding it pressed against his sticky and shrinking cock. Eventually he sat up on the couch, and he turned my face up to look at his. A drop of his cum splashed onto my nose, and he laughed quietly. "I just want to make sure," he said. "You okay?"
I looked up at him without changing my expression and slowly moved my head forward, not taking my eyes off his. I opened my mouth wide and placed it just past the head of his dick, tongue out, as if I were just waiting there for his hands (still on my head) to push me over it, and just looked up at him.
He got the message. He pulled my head away and pushed me backwards, then reached down for his shorts and pulled them on. I watched from my position on the floor as he stood and then walked out, heading to his room. "See ya later, cocksucker," he said as he left.
And so began our routine. Every day or two, usually in the early evening, Brad would shout at me to come over and blow him or he would walk into my room and tell me to suck his dick. It turned out that he was dating some girl, Anita, who usually wasn't up for sex and when she was, she wouldn't suck him off. He would complain about that from time to time, how much he loved blow jobs and she wouldn't give him one. That was fine with me, because it meant he still came to me to get them.
Brad was pretty agressive with me, often giving me orders to suck his dick and taking complete control of the blow job. He would tell me to get down on my knees or lay on the floor, into my "cocksucker" place. Sometimes he would slap his dick hard against my face while holding me by the hair, or he'd put me on the floor and hold his foot against my face.
This was a typical night in our apartment:
I'm sitting in my room, on my bed reading. There's a quick knock at the door and then it pushes open and Brad enters. "Hey, cocksucker. You thirsty?" he says.
It didn't matter what I said in return, so usually I didn't say anything. He stands by the side of my bed and grabs my head, yanking it towards his crotch. He rubs my face all over his denim-covered groin, and I can feel his dick hardening. "Why don't you get down on your knees?" he says, "that's the place for a cocksucker, right?" I slide off the bed and onto the floor before where he's standing.
He holds my head against him with his left hand and reaches up with his right to unzip his jeans. Then he takes out his dick and slaps it a couple of times against my face. "Want this dick, cocksucker? Want to eat my cock?"
I moan in reply, and he pulls my face over his dick. He takes it slow in the beginning, and I slobber all over it, getting it nice and hard in my hot, moist mouth. Then he begins to fuck my face, a nice steady rhythm. He holds my head in two hands, firm, and starts thrusting his hips back and forth, plunging his cock deep down my throat then bringing it back out just to the tip. He holds my head against his crotch after he pushes it all the way in, and I drink in the scent of him. I reach up and place my hands against his thighs.
I already sucked him off once this morning before his shower, so tonight won't be a quick one. In fact, he's enjoying taking his time, fucking my face. He starts to pick up the pace a little. "Yeah, queer," he says, "I'm really fucking your cocksucker face now. I'm gonna stick my dick all the way down your throat and you'll take it like a good faggot cocksucker." His hips are a blur and he's fucking my face as hard as he can. I'm starting to get dizzy, overcome by the feeling of him raping my mouth, but he's holding my head in an iron grip, steadying me to suck him until he's done. "Okay, I'm gonna shoot my load all over your cocksucking face. I'm gonna cover you with cum, faggot, yeah, unhh," he says and pulls his dick all the way out, grabbing it with his right hand. He pulls on my hair with his other hand and holds my face just beneath his shooting cock, which pours cum all over my face, my nose, my lips, my cheeks, spraying into my hair. After he's done shooting, he slaps my face with his cock a couple more times. Then he looks down at me. "Good cocksucker," he says, and walks out.
I loved having a hot stud to suck off all the time, because for me there's nothing better than giving a blow job. I liked it when he took control and was aggressive, telling me what he wanted and then taking it. It was great that we could have this incredible sexual relationship and still maintain a good roommate situation. He never tried to take advantage and we were always cordial. The "faggot cocksucker" talk was limited to just when I was servicing him, and at other times he never acted like we were anything other than two guys just sharing an apartment and hanging out. We weren't friends, exactly, but I didn't expect we would be under any circumstances.
And, of course, he wasn't interested in doing anything to me. Usually I would jerk off after I blew him, just savoring the thought of his cock in my mouth and, when he blasted his load in my face, rubbing his cum all over my face as I came. Once or twice I tried pulling out my cock to jerk off while I sucked him, but he would kick my hand away from my crotch, saying "Oh no, cocksucker, you just concentrate on this big dick I'm stuffing down your throat." That was okay with me, because sucking him made me so close to cumming that if I did jerk off I'd shoot right away, and I wanted to wait until he shot his cum on me first.
After a while I was able to expand the scenario ever so slightly, when I showed him how great it felt to get your nipples sucked. One time he had been sitting in a chair without a shirt when he told me to come over and blow him. I started to suck his cock vigorously and looked up at his beautiful chest with his perfect, brown nipples. Not sure how he would react, I couldn't resist. I lifted my head from his crotch, rising from my crouching position, licking his rock hard stomach as I made my way up his torso.
"Whoa," I heard him say suddenly, quietly, but I kept going. His hands reached for my head just as I arrived at my destination, his firm nipple protruding from his rounded pec. I sucked it into my mouth and began gently toying with it, rolling my tongue around, sucking on it, nipping lightly. His hands rested on my head, unsure what to do, but it became clear that he liked it. He pushed my head around, furthering his pleasure, and then pulled me off and moved me to his other nipple. He started jerking himself with his other hand. I sucked there some more, until finally he placed one hand firmly on my forehead and pushed my head down hard to meet his rising cock. He plunged his cock down my throat a few times, and then shot his load in my mouth.
One day I got home from work to a surprise. Brad was waiting for me in my room. I stood at the doorway, expecting the customary demand for a suck job, but instead he said, "I have something for you."
I looked over, "oh, what's that?" I said casually.
"Here," he said, smiling and handed me a bag. I opened it - inside were kneepads. I just laughed. "Uh, thanks."
"Well, you know, since you spend so much time on your knees, I just wanted you to be comfortable." A few days before, we had been down in the basement doing some cleaning when Brad had grabbed me from behind and threw me down on my knees before grinding his cock into my face. I had already blown him earlier that day, sitting in a chair while he stood over me and face-fucked me, so it took him a while to cum. The hard cement of the basement floor was really bothering me, so I told him we needed to move it upstairs to finish.
"I don't want you to stop sucking me just because your knees hurt. Get it?" I nodded. "Try them on."
I pulled them out of the package and pulled them on over my jeans. Brad stood up, and looked at me. I didn't move. "Well, cocksucker, what do you do?" I didn't know what he meant so I did nothing.
"Look," he said, moving closer, "when a cocksucker is in a room with a fucking stud whose dick needs service and that cocksucker is wearing kneepads, he gets down on his faggot knees and sucks his stud's dick." I waited while he stepped towards me and placed his hands on my shoulders, gripping them firmly.
"So here we are. And what are you?" he asked.
"A cocksucker," I answered.
"And what am I?"
"A stud."
"Then down you go, faggot," he said, pushing down hard on my shoulders as I got down on my knees. He unzipped his fly and pulled his already erect penis out of his jeans. I opened my mouth and moved in to take it but he surprised me by suddenly pulling my head back and slapping me in the face with it. I felt his dick bang against my face and was suddenly overcome, moaning.
He backed me up until my back was to the wall and then he started to push his cock down my throat. Slowly at first, letting me get ready to take it all, and then he went at it. He released my head, though by now his fucking rhythm was such that I couldn't pull away if I wanted to. He put his hands against the wall behind me and began to do push-ups against the wall, thrusting his cock deep into my mouth. He increased the pace rapidly until he was pounding my face like never before. My nose would smash against his belt buckle as his cock plunged all the way down my throat and he held it there for a second or two.
"Oh yeah, suck that cock. I'm fucking your cocksucking face like a good faggot deserves to get face-fucked by his stud. Take my cock, all the way, choke on it, yeah," he said, and then in an explosive burst shot his sweet juicy cum down my throat, pouring buckets of semen into me.
When he finished, he sat back down on my bed and zipped his jeans. I stood and began to remove the kneepads. "Oh, no you don't," he said grabbing my arm. "You gotta wear these all the time, whenever I'm in the house. You never know when I might want my faggot down on his knees blowing me, and I'm not gonna wait around for you to go get them. Those are your new uniform, roomie, your new cocksucking uniform."
Of course, I didn't actually wear them all the time. But they did become a signal of sorts. Sometimes I would get home from work and they would be on the table just inside our front door - a clear sign that I should put them on, find Brad, and kneel down before him and suck him off. He usually got home before me, so I could always tell when I arrived if he was in the mood for a blow job, and most days he was.
Sometimes if I wasn't wearing them when he came up to demand his blow job, he would find other ways to get it. He would pull me down to the floor on my back and straddle my chest. Lying down there, and looking up at his beautiful torso over me made me very hot. He would shove his dick in my face, and I would lick and suck it like the dick-hungry cocksucker I was. Sometimes he would hold the back of my head, lifting it off the floor to get a good angle that he could plunge his rock-hard dick deep down my throat. Other times, he would pull both my hands up over my head, and hold them down hard with his own hands. No matter how hard I tried to release myself, I couldn't - he was too strong. But I loved the feeling of my hands being held down tight while he fucked my face. Usually these blow jobs would end by him doing push-ups over me, thrusting his cock deep, deep down my throat, choking me sometimes, until he came in an explosive burst of cum that landed in my hair and all over my face.
There were so many ways to blow him, on my knees while he stood before me, in a chair while he stood, fucking my face, lying on my back while he did push-ups, or kneeling over him while he laid on his back. I couldn't believe my luck - having a fucking hot roommate who liked blow jobs as much as he did, and wasn't hung up over getting them from a guy.