Author’s Note - So, I’ve realized there’s a benefit to writing erotic fiction. All my other...hobbies?...are now valuable uses of my freetime. Watching porn? Research. Reading erotica and yaoi? Research. Looking for bootleg copies of The Joy of Gay Sex? Research. Google Image searching ESPN Body Issue? Research. Related image searches for Colin Kapernick and Carlos Bocanegra? Research.
Thanks for helping me justify my research habits. ~ Dayne (email@example.com)
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Chapter 8 - Warming Up
I hurry down the hall to Cory’s dorm suite, looking like my usual cute self in a polo-shirt and rolled-up jeans. I knock on his door and he calls that it’s open.
When I walk in, he’s sitting on the common room sofa with his laptop open on the coffee table. I don’t even let him get a word in before I bounce onto the seat next to him and start in with my carefully rehearsed speech.
“So, we need to make leggings a thing. Or not even leggings, like a legging equivalent. By the way, you look hot in glasses. You should wear glasses more. You know there are some basic bitches who wear leggings when they really shouldn’t. I could totally pull off leggings. We got manbuns. Manbuns are a thing. Your roomie, Fabio, totally has a manbun. It’s cute. Leggings are like the next logical leap. Come on, man, leggings! Leeee-eeee-eeee-eeeeggiiii-iiii-iiii-iiiings.” I grip his shoulders and shake him on each added syllable.
“How much coffee did you have?”
“Not enough,” I say as I hang off his neck. “Oh, speaking of roommates. I know you said no. Well, your exact words were Hell fucking no, Cumdumpster. But I digress. Anyhow, I still think you should let me turn one of your roommates gay. Or at least partially gay. Just have to identify the most likely candidate. Maybe I should turn all of them. That would be fun.”
Cory pinches the bridge of his nose and I hear a peal of laughter from the laptop. His entirely too bangable best friend is laughing his ass off in an open Skype window. “Your roommates are there, aren’t they?” he asks.
“All of them.”
I look up, the gloriously golden Al (he of the manbun) is in the kitchenette with a spoonful of cereal frozen mid-way between his bowl and his mouth. The other two, the very cute Romero and the darkly handsome Gio, are looking out from their respective rooms. I smile charmingly and wave. “Hi, guys.”
“Hey, Preston,” Keenan says. We’ve chatted via comments on Facebook, but this is the first time I’ve heard his voice and it’s making me a little wet.
“So, what are you calling Cory this week?”
“The Dread Pirate Blueballs,” I say in my most dramatic and serious voice. Al chokes on a bite of cereal. My little pet names for Cory have become a thing now. Kiley, wonderful box-eating Kiley, even let me add it to the GSA minutes. Seriously. The words Secretary Preston James Finnegan motions that Member Cory Frederick Card be known as The Dread Pirate Blueballs until otherwise decided are on the record. It was quickly seconded and granted, despite Cory’s objections.
“I have to hear this,” Gio comes out and eagerly plops down in one of the armchairs. Cory told me about “Tex” and now that these three are in on my name game, I imagine that he regrets it.
“So, last Friday, we were at this party, see, and Blueballs has been chasing his TA all over the place.”
“Professor Collins’ TA?” Romero moves from the doorway, grabs one of the chairs from the breakfast bar and sits in it backwards. Hmmm….there’s nothing hotter than manspreading.
“Wait, which one? Mike Tran or Indie Norman?”
“The tall one with blue hair.”
“Yessir. So, our main man here manages to pin him down in Kiley’s room.”
Cory drops his face into his hands. “Could you not tell them this?”
“And they’re all over each other.”
“I was not all over him.”
“Norman?” Romero asks in a disbelieving voice.
“Yep, turns out he has a ten-inch dick.”
“I wasn’t exactly able to measure,” Cory answers, his forehead resting on his fist like he’s the thinker or something. His cheeks are an adorable shade of red. “But, he’s hung like a horse.”
Romero’s face is stuck somewhere between awe and horror.
“So, yeah, Blueballs is facing off with the Asswrecker,” the guys get a kick out of that. I think I have a small talent for these names. “But guess who ends up running off with his tail between his legs.”
“No shit,” says Keenan from the laptop.
“So, Cory struck out with Mr. Freeze.” Damn, Gio isn’t too bad with nicknames.
“Bitch is colder than Elsa,” I confirm. “Poor guy is like would you like to build a snowman? and that ice queen is like nope!”
“Whatever. He probably had a reason,” Cory says, bravely putting up a confident front despite the crushing rejection he suffered. My little trooper. I press his face to my bosom and stroke his hair. “It has nothing to do with me.”
“Come on, Anna,” I say soothingly. “Let’s go bait bears at the gay bar.”
Al looks confused. “Do I want to know what that means?”
“No,” Cory answers, quickly cutting me off. “No, you don’t.”
I got all of a weekend to be bummed out about Indie. Just two days to feel sorry for myself.
Then I had my hands full with Efrain.
I’ve been hanging out with him a lot for the past few weeks. He says he likes chilling with me because I’m the only one who can pronounce his first name (“I told those assholes ‘It’s Ef-RYE-een, mother-fucker’ but they still don’t get it!”). I like his dark humor, and it doesn’t hurt that Efrain is nice to look at.
Okay, “nice to look at” is understating it, the man is fucking hot as hell. Like ten times hotter than Indie. He’s beautiful from top to bottom, and I’m a sucker for his eyes. He’s all dark features and rugged lines, making his gaze – shifting somewhere between light green and gold – that much more striking.
Then, there’s his mouth. The gods made that mouth, then wept that it would never touch the cocks of god or mortal. In my weaker moments, the way his mouth curves into that easy wolfish grin of his makes the blood rush to my groin.
And that part has become more of an issue lately. I know I’m just deluding himself, but since the Indie incident it feels like there has been more to the casual joking; more and more it feel like flirting. It wasn’t even a gradual change. I guess getting shot down by Indie hit me harder than I let on. In any case, I’m pretty sure that Efrain wouldn’t joke with me the same if he knew I like men. Yet whether or not he’s aware of what he does to my head, the effect’s the same. I can’t stop thinking about him, which has led to my rising dilemma.
Efrain had already showered and changed after today’s practice, yet lingered to joke around with Teague and Lithgow. This is fine most of the time, but I’m finding it harder to hide the way Efrain affects me, and sometimes the fact that we are in a room full of other guys changing in or out of their practice uniforms makes the effect stronger. His deep voice makes me flush enough; meeting his eyes, or remembering what he looks like under his clothes (sneaking a peek was the worst idea ever), will undo me.
I like Efrain, even in the platonic-not-trying-to-fuck-him sense, and I really ain’t trying to fuck him. But, could he have some sense of self-preservation for fuck’s sake?
When I finish getting dressed and head out, he falls in step with me. I let myself relax only when we reach the atrium.
“Well, this sucks.” Efrain gestures to the glass doors where a light rain falls on the other side.
“It’s not that bad.”
“Unless you have a half-hour wait for the next bus.”
“Your fault for living in the suburbs.”
“Hey, I don’t live that far.”
I shrug. “My truck’s only two blocks away, if you want a ride.” Efrain accepts and follows me to the parking lot. Light rain had given way to deluge before we could make it there.
“Fuck, if you didn’t take so damn long in the shower,” Efrain laughs, “I’d be standing out there like a jackass when that hit.”
We remain quiet while the cab warms up and we gradually stop shivering. Even after getting soaked, I can smell his cologne – YSL La Nuit De L’Homme. Some random chick gave it to him last season, hoping to get in his pants, but the dark notes fit him perfectly and he’d worn it ever since. He smells so good I’m semi-erect before we make it off campus.
Suddenly, Efrain turns in his seat and turns down the stereo. “Okay, so get this,” he begins. “A couple weeks ago, my roommate, Indie, comes home…”
“Yeah, Indie Norman. Grad student, glasses, blue hair, tons of piercings, tall as fuck,” Efrain answers and my stomach drops. “So, he comes home plastered, bitching about how he wasted the whole night at this party fooling around with some freshman football player.”
“Oh?” Shit shit shit shit shit
“Apparently, the guy had cornered him in a bedroom,” he continues, as if he’s letting me in on some great big conspiracy. “They were totally down to fuck, too. But, the guy turned out to be bi and Indie has this fucking lame ass hang-up about men who are bi.”
I remain silent, remembering the teasing and flirting, the questing fingers and tongues, the sudden shitty excuse about grading some fucking term papers that left me high and dry.
“He asked if you really were on the team.”
“Me? Why’d you think it’s me?”
Efrain arches an eyebrow. “He showed me a picture.”
“Oh.” Caught. “So, why’d he want to know that?”
“Curious, really. Plus, he and I seem to lust after the same guys, so if he noticed you, he assumed I’m trying to hit it.”
I hit the brakes harder than I mean to. “What?” I turn to find the other man grinning wickedly.
“Indie and I have similar tastes – blonde, blue-eyed, muscle twinks.”
I bark out a laugh as I turn the truck into the neighborhood. “The fuck is a muscle twink?”
“The kind that I like to make cry.”
I try to ignore how tight my trunks suddenly feel. “Seriously? Like tears and all that shit?”
“Nah. Nothing like that. Like cumming so hard you can’t control how loud you are.” Efrain explains. “Although, making a guy loud and weepy would be interesting.”
“We need to get you some better pick-up lines.” I pull into his driveway and put the truck in park. With the rain continuing to pound against the windows, the truck feels too confining, the man in the passenger seat too close for me to keep calm. I hope my face isn’t as red as it feels. “Most guys who brag about that kinda stuff seem to be the least likely to actually deliver,” I bluff. While I lost my virginity to a girl in middle school, it took me all the way to junior year to get in bed with a guy. My experience with men is pretty limited.
“That sounded like a challenge.”
“And that sounded like a waste of time.” I sit back and turn toward Efrain, trying really hard to sound bored and totally over it. “I’m sure there’s a point to this.”
“There is,” he says simply. And with that, he leans over the center console, bringing his full, generous mouth close enough to brush against mine as he speaks. “I want to make you cry.”
Lame ass pick-up line, or not, a small shiver runs up my spine as Efrain takes my mouth, nibbling my lips and drawing me deeper into the kiss until it makes both of us breathless. His hand tickles up my inner thigh, finding the erection straining the front of my jeans. He teases me while his tongue invades my mouth. A moan escapes my throat and I grip the sides of my seat to keep from grabbing him.
He breaks off the kiss and pulls back far enough to meet my eyes. “Come in with me.” It seems more command than request. “We’ll get soaked, but I have a shower big enough to fuck in while we warm up.”
I don’t trust myself to respond, and instead kill the engine and remove the keys from the ignition. We open our respective car door and make a run for the house. Efrain opens the door and pulls me inside, then pins me against the door with his body. Here, our kissing becomes more aggressive and insistent. Hands franticly peel off sodden clothing, forming a trail as Efrain guides me back to his room.
Once in his room, he goes to pull something from his nightstand, leaving me shivering, nervous, and wearing nothing but my trunks in the middle of the room. “The master suite, huh.”
“It happened to be the room open when I moved in,” he shrugs. He takes me by the hand and leads me into the adjoining bathroom. He’s carrying a small black bottle and some condoms in his other hand.
“Water-based lube in a shower? Sounds super effective,” I joke.
“Nope, silicone.” Efrain reaches in the shower to set both items down on a small bench and turns on the water. Satisfied, he turns back and tugs at my hand. I step in to him and melt into his body. His tongue explores my mouth while we shed the last bits of clothing. Now that the room is starting to warm up, I feel the blood pooling in my groin again, and signs of Efrain’s arousal pressing against my thigh.
While Efrain licks and nibbles down my neck and shoulder, I admire his body. Dark skin stretches over tightly corded muscles, with a light dusting of dark hair on his forearms and legs and a trail of hair from his navel down – a nice contrast to my own bulkier muscle mass and sparse body hair. The cut of his obliques and abs angle down into a thatch of dark curly hair from which his long, thick cock stands. While Efrain digs his fingers into my rounded ass, I wrap my fingers around his dick.
“Your hands are fucking freezing.”
I chuckle a little and apologize. “Think the water is warm enough?” I pull away to step inside. Efrain wasn’t kidding about the size of the thing. You couldn’t lay down in it, but there is plenty enough room to bend someone over.
Efrain enters behind me. “Nevermind about your hands,” he places his hands (which are also cold) on my hips and rubs his cock against my ass. “Goddamn, your ass is fuckable.”
Goosebumps tighten my skin. “Is that how you’re gonna make me cry?”
Efrain brushes his lips against my earlobe. “I have my methods,” he purrs in a voice that makes my cock throb and my nipples harden. The tip of his tongue traces the shell of my ear.
“You have methods?” I mock as he nibbles the side of my neck and shoulder. “Seems like all you’ve done so far is tease.”
“Is that so?” Efrain abruptly turns me around, and shoves me against the cold tile wall. He licks and bites a trail from neck to abdomen while he lowers himself down onto his knees. “So, no teasing, huh?” His mouth plays with the head of my dick, nipping at the glans and toying with the frenulum with his tongue. “Not even this kind?”
“That’s tolerable.” I’m still trying to maintain a poker face, but my voice falters when Efrain slides his tongue around the head. I barely notice when Efrain picks up the little black bottle until his slicked fingers begin drawing lazy circles between my cheeks. He slides the other hand behind my knee to bend the leg and guide my foot onto the corner bench.
Fingers continue to rub in little circles from right behind my balls all the way back to press firmly against my hole. I struggle to hide how much I want to moan. The mouth on my cock continues to draw me in. Efrain’s hazel eyes lock with mine and he slides the very tip of his finger inside.
“Fuck,” I let out in a shuddering breath, giving up my bluffing pretense. Efrain works in deeper, playing open my ass, letting my now rocking hips work my cock further between his lips. “Fuck,” I moan again, repeating the word over and over as Efrain lightly grinds his knuckles against my sensitive ass. I arch my back, adding my own resistance to the grinding. Efrain pulls back his finger enough to begin working in a second up to the knuckles before slowly fucking me with his fingers.
As fingers work, his mouth stays busy on my dick. I thought I gave great head, and thought I’d received it too, but Efrain is something else. Nipping and nibbling with his lips, teasing with both the tip and the flat of his tongue, alternating between shallow and deep throating. My 7 inches isn’t exactly monstrous, but it’s not small either, yet he still gets the whole thing in his mouth without gagging. I know I wouldn’t be able to return that favor, especially since he is definitely larger than me.
Randomly, he pauses and holds me between his teeth, firm enough for the sensation to register. Everything I’ve ever read or have been told on the matter absolutely forbids teeth during oral, and I’ve had enough experience with bad blowjobs to know how much it hurts when teeth slip, but, God, if I don’t moan louder each time Efrain uses his. And he performs like he knows I’m watching, catching my gaze as he bites, licks, teases. Between his skilled hands and mouth, and the sight of the man working his own dick with his free hand, I feel like exploding. I want to cum so bad, but I don’t want this to end.
“I’m getting close,” I pant. “Dial it back some.”
Efrain looks up, dick between his teeth, and cocks his eyebrow. His free hand moves up between my legs and I feel him press firmly behind my balls. Then, he attacks, working me harder with fingers and mouth, bringing me closer to climax. I tilt back my head and brace my shoulders against the tile wall, thrusting my hips forward. I clench my teeth, ragged breaths hissing between, feeling the throbbing coil tighter and tighter.
I break hard, somehow cumming and not cumming. A climax without the release of ejaculation. I feel like I’ve imploded when everything has been fighting to fling itself outward. Suddenly weak-kneed, I throw out my hands to catch myself on the small inset shelves on either side, sending bottles and soap crashing. I move my foot off the bench and slide to the ground.
Efrain moves up between my knees, kissing me and stroking my abs, which are still contracting from the force of my orgasm. “That was fun to watch.”
“Fuck! What did you do to me?”
“Pressure point. You’ll still orgasm, but without the cum,” he explains between kisses. “I told you I had my methods.”
“I didn’t scream.”
“You were trying really hard not to.” I have to concede that point. “Also, I’m not done yet, and” he taps my still hard cock with his finger, making me gasp. “Neither are you.” He sits back and draws me onto his lap. I watch as he unwraps a condom and rolls it down his dick before adding lube.
Efrain lifts my hips and lines up his cock. He rubs there, as he had with his fingers, distributing lubricant and relaxing my hole. Still sensitive from my orgasm, the feel of Efrain’s member between my cheeks draws forth more shuddering moans and gasps.
Satisfied, Efrain positions himself against my ass. “Ready?”
Unable to speak coherently, I simply nod and brace my hands on his shoulders. Efrain carefully eases me down on his cock, murmuring “good boy” in my ear. Shit like that should feel demeaning, but my dick jumps and I whimper every time he does it. “Take it just like that. Good boy, don’t rush.” I shiver and clench around the dick slowly stretching me open until he bottoms out. By that time, I already feel like I could blow at any minute.
Efrain gives me some time to adjust to his length, gently massaging where my ass holds him with still lubed up fingers. “You’re fucking tight,” he murmurs. Arousal deepens his voice and his breathing is heavier – he’s feeling this as much as I am. My ass spasms around him. “You sure I’m not hurting you?” I shake my head. It hurts a little, it’d been a while since I’ve had something in my ass and nothing as big as him, but the ache feels indescribably good.
His fingers tease my ass some more before he lifts my hips, sliding himself almost entirely out. He eases me back down in one slow, fluid thrust. I let out a moan that lasts from tip to base, and he repeats the move. He continues rolling me up and down the length of his dick until I pick up the rhythm.
I ride Efrain, feeling things getting tight inside of me. The sounds of our mingling gasps and moans make me bold. I wanted to pay him back for how much he’d made me squirm. I want him to feel me more. I thrust down hard, bringing out a clenched-jaw growl from Efrain. I make him squirm a little all right, but, the angle thrusts him over a sensitive spot in just the right way and I end up feeling it more than he does. I cry out, head thrown back, back arched, fingers digging into Efrain’s shoulders.
“That hurt you more than it hurt me, huh?” he chuckles between panting breaths. Efrain digs his own fingers into my ass, spreading it apart. He isn’t bothering with pretense. He’s into what I’m doing to him and not afraid to let me know. “Keep moving,” he growls and drives my hips into a hard thrusting pace, moaning and murmuring in my ear about how much of a good boy I am for giving him my ass. He grabs my dick and lets the thrusting move his hand along the shaft.
My continued cries accent the wet slapping as my ass hits Efrain’s hard thighs. As my climax mounts, the only way to let off the excess pressure is to scream louder and louder. My voice rises and echoes through the small room as I drive myself harder down his cock. I break in waves, cum spilling over his hand, crying out until my voice gives out.
Efrain wraps his arms around my waist and drives me on still. He grabs my shoulder between his teeth, the bite sinking into my skin as his own orgasm takes him. The pain from the bite and the feel of Efrain’s spasms trigger aftershocks, making me clench and shudder around him. Even with how loud I’d been earlier, my voice still rises in octaves as I moan. I rock my hips against Efrain, my still twitching dick rubbing against the man’s abs. I can’t tell how long we feed off each other’s orgasms, prolonging the climax until we both wind down.
I’m barely able to move, but I manage to disentangle from Efrain and ease myself off. I sit next to him, knees drawn up, shivering despite the warm water pouring over me. My hips ache. The water stings where Efrain had bitten me; most likely, he broke the skin. I whimper when a final aftershock hits.
“Holy fuck,” I whisper, my voice too raw and broken for anything else.
“I was not expecting that.” Efrain shifts himself over to sit next to me. He looks as shocked as I feel. He slips his arm around my waist and lets me rest my head on his shoulder.
“Yeah,” I agree weakly and then pass the fuck out.
I wake up with a sore ass and a sore throat in a bed I don’t recognize.
Efrain took care of me after he fucked me into oblivion. A bandage covers my shoulder. The contents of my pockets sit on the nightstand in front of me. Under them are the clothes he had pulled off me earlier. They smell like fresh laundry.
He lies next to me, curled up against my back, an arm flung over my waist holding me tight.
“Fuck, is it going to be like that every time?” he murmurs, noticing that I had woken up.
“God, I fucking hope so.”
As I settle down to go back to sleep, I realize that I rather like being made to cry.