The following story is fictional. As such, it is not based on any real events, people, places, or fraternities. My stories contain graphic sexual content, violence, and offensive language. You must be eighteen and located where it's legal to read such stories.

In real life, be respectful of others and never engage in anything even vaguely non-consensual. Use protection and don't take party drugs.

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Copyright © 2020 by Eli van der Graaff

eli.vandergraaff@gmail.com

Characters:

Bradley van der Meer | Caucasian; Age 22; Straight, light brown hair; Blue eyes; 6' 4"; 200 lbs.; University Senior; President -- Pi Kappa Epsilon (PIΚΕ); Starting QB -- University Football team

 

Jon Swenson | Caucasian; Age 19; Straight, neck-length, light blonde hair; Blue eyes; 5' 10"; 160 lbs.; University Sophomore; Secretary-Treasurer -- PIΚΕ Social Cmte.; High School Football QB & Baseball

 

Kevin Striklin | Caucasian; Age 19; Straight, medium length, black hair -- shaggy bangs; Blue eyes; 6' 2"; 170 lbs.; University Sophomore; Member -- PIΚΕ; High School Football & Wrestling

 

Taylor Harris | Caucasian; Age 21; Straight, neck-length, dark, blonde hair; Blue eyes; 6' 2"; 180 lbs.; Striking resemblance -- young Tom Brady; University Senior; Vice President -- PIΚΕ; RB -- University Football team

 

Tanner Harris | Caucasian; Age 17; Straight, neck-length, dark, blonde hair; Blue eyes; 6'; 160 lbs.; Like his older brother, striking resemblance -- young Tom Brady; Calhoun Academy (All-Boys, private school) Senior; QB -- Football team; Pitcher -- Baseball

Todd Dreyer | Caucasian; Age 21; Curly, blonde hair; 6' 2"; Blue eyes; 170 lbs.; University Senior; Member -- PIΚΕ; Rower -- University team

 

Colin Miller | African-American; Age 20; Short, curly, black hair; Brown eyes; 6' 4"; 200 lbs.; University Junior; Boarding School Football & Baseball

 

Matt Jensen | Caucasian; Age 20; Short, white-blonde hair; Blue eyes; 6' 1"; 160 lbs.; University Junior; Secretary -- PIΚΕ; Wrestler -- University Wrestling team

 

Luke Jost | Caucasian; Age 21; Curly, brown hair; 6' 2"; Brown eyes; 170lbs.; University Senior; Treasurer -- PIΚΕ; Football (Sidelined) University team

 

Ryan Cook | Caucasian; Age 19; Straight, light auburn hair; Blue eyes; 6' 0"; 160 lbs.; University Sophomore; Member -- Tau Kappa Epsilon (TKE); High School Football & Baseball

 

Dylan d'Abaco | Caucasian; Age 19; Straight, black hair -- shaggy bangs; Dark brown eyes; 6' 0"; 170 lbs.; Olive completion (Italian); University Sophomore; Member -- TKE; Rugby -- University team

 

Chase James | Caucasian; Age 19; Straight, dark blonde hair; Light gray-green eyes; 6' 1"; 175 lbs.; University Sophomore; Member -- TKE; Rugby -- University team; Boarding School Rugby

 

Mason Alexander | Caucasian; Age 19; Straight, brown hair; Brown eyes; 5' 11"; 160 lbs.; University Sophomore; Member -- PIΚΕ; High School Football & Basketball

 

Chris Flynn | Irish-American descent; Age 19; Straight, dark auburn hair; Gray eyes; 6' 1"; 165 lbs.; University Sophomore; Member -- PIΚΕ; High School Football & Basketball

 

Tyler Harmon | Caucasian; Age 20; Neck-length, straight brown hair; Hazel eyes; 6' 2"; 175 lbs.; High School Football (RB) & Baseball

 

Dave Lembi | Caucasian; Age 20; Straight, blonde hair; Blue eyes; 6' 1"; 170 lbs.; High School Football & Baseball

 

Tyrese Lundsford | Biracial (Black/Asian); Age 22; Short, curly, black hair; Brown, Asian-shaped eyes; 6' 3"; 225 lbs.; University Senior; Vice President -- Alpha Phi Alpha (Ice Cold Brothas); TE -- University Football team

 

Darnell Ramsey | African-American; Age 21; Short, curly, black hair; Brown eyes; 6' 5"; 210 lbs.; University Senior; President -- Alpha Phi Alpha (Ice Cold Brothas)

 

Deshawn Davis | African-American; Age 20; Short, curly, black hair; Brown eyes; 6' 3"; 190 lbs.; University Junior; Active -- Alpha Phi Alpha (Ice Cold Brothas)

 

Trevon Whiteley | African-American; Age 20; Short, curly, black hair; Brown eyes; 6' 6"; 215 lbs.; University Junior; Active -- Alpha Phi Alpha (Ice Cold Brothas)

 

Jonah Erickson | Caucasian; Age 18; Curly, blonde hair; Blue eyes; 5' 11"; 155 lbs.; University Freshman; High School Basketball & Baseball

 

Officer Trey Douglas | African-American; Age 23; Short-fade, black hair; Brown eyes; 6' 3"; 190 lbs. Lives with Victoria Sprouse with whom he has one child. Has an ex-girlfriend with whom he has two children.; Rookie police officer on City Police Dept.

 

Officer Akihiro Takahashi | Japanese-American descent; 26; Short, straight, black hair; Brown eyes; 6' 0"; 165 lbs. Married, with two children.; Rookie police officer on City Police Dept.

 

Officer Justin O'Hare | Irish-American descent; 23; Crew-cut, medium red hair; Pale blue eyes; 6' 2"; 175 lbs. Married to Kristi and expecting their first child.; Rookie police officer on City Police Dept.

 

Jeff Sorenson | Caucasian; 33; Slicked-back, blonde hair; Blue eyes, 5' 11"; 160 lbs. Married, with a two-year old girl and a 5-year-old boy; Attorney at the law firm representing the business interests of Kevin Striklin's father

 

Wade Johansen | Caucasian; 31; Short, dark auburn-brown hair with long, shaggy bangs and a thick, 5" beard; Dark brown eyes; 6' 4"; 215 lbs.; Heavily muscled. Married and divorced three times, with (at least) five children (of which he's aware).; Convicted felon: Aggravated rape, Statutory rape, Armed robbery, Possession and sale of Class 2 and 3 drugs

 

Logan Johansen | Caucasian; 18; Short, dark auburn-brown hair with long, shaggy bangs; Dark brown eyes; 6' 3"; 190 lbs.; Heavily muscled.; University Freshman; Pledge -- Pi Kappa Epsilon (PIΚΕ); Wrestler -- University Wrestling team; High School Football & Wrestling; Summer Amateur Boxing; Younger brother of criminal Wade Johansen

 

Brendan Penner | Caucasian; 22; Straight, light-brown hair; Brown eyes; 6' 5"; 200 lbs.; University Senior; WR -- University Football team

 

Trent Lockridge | Caucasian; 21; Blonde hair; Blue eyes; 6' 4"; 190 lbs.; University Junior; Backup QB -- University Football team

 

Zach Lembi | Caucasian; 18; Long, light-blonde hair; Blue eyes; 6' 0"; 165 lbs.; University Freshman; Pledge -- Pi Kappa Epsilon (PIΚΕ); High School Football & Baseball; Younger brother of Dave Lembi (from Jon Swenson's hometown)

 

Cameron Sprouse | Caucasian; Age 18; Short, straight, blonde hair; Brown eyes; 6'; 175 lbs.; High School Football, Basketball, & Baseball

 

Caleb Sprouse | Caucasian; Age 16; Short, straight, light brown hair -- long bangs; Brown eyes; 5' 9"; 145 lbs.; High School Junior; High School Lacrosse

 

Carver Sprouse | Caucasian; Age 13; Straight, medium-length, blonde hair; Brown eyes; 5' 9"; 135 lbs.; 8^th Grade; Junior High Soccer, Basketball, & Baseball

 

Victoria Sprouse | Caucasian; Age 36; Long, straight, blonde hair; Blue eyes; 5' 9"; 120 lbs.; Barbie doll figure; Mother to Cameron, Caleb, Carver, and Officer Douglas' baby boy

 

Jeff Sprouse | Caucasian; 36; Dark blonde hair; Blue eyes, 5' 11"; 160 lbs. Divorced; Father of the Sprouse boys; Partner at a regional law firm

 

Finn Michelsen | Caucasian; Age 17; Short, straight, light brown hair; Gray eyes; 5' 11"; 155 lbs.; High School Junior; High School Soccer & Baseball

 

 

-- Chapter 9 --

or Wherein nightmares aren't necessarily dreams

 

The next morning following his initial `lesson' with Logan, Caleb sat at the breakfast table eating a bowl of cereal he'd fixed for himself when Officer Douglas sauntered in wearing nothing more than a flimsy pair of running shorts and a pair of flip-flops, scratching his smooth, ebony pecs--hard and muscular. At 23, Trey Douglas was only seven years older than the boy sitting at the table, slowly eating his cereal as though he had all the time in the world to finish getting ready for school.

When Caleb's father lived there, no one was allowed to come downstairs without being fully clothed. Upstairs, half-nakedness was allowed only if the boys were racing to or from the bathroom shower, and then, they had to have at least a towel around their wastes. The 16-year-old hated the fact that now, everyone seemed to run around the house half-naked--that is, everyone except himself--and Trey's half-naked, Black body stood out amongst the `white bread' household, always catching Caleb's eyes despite consciously trying to avert them. At 6' 3", it was Trey's l-o-n-g, muscular legs that seemed to captivate Caleb's eyes the most. Of course, it didn't help that Trey always sat with them stretched out and spread apart so provocatively.

For his part, Trey thought the 16-year-old was the `odd-one-out', wondering why Caleb was so uptight, so square. At least he didn't have to discipline the seemingly well-behaved boy ...although Trey kind-of wished he could. You see, just as Caleb found himself staring at Trey's long, muscular legs, Trey found himself staring at Caleb's hard, round booty, and coupled with the kid looking so much like his mother in the face, the young cop's thick, 10-inch hose invariably filled with blood, pressing uncomfortably inside whatever pants he wore. With Victoria being decidedly a nymphomaniac, it was only natural the young, Black stud thought of his girlfriend every time he saw Caleb's face.

Victoria had a master bath off their bedroom, but the long, marble counter inside was chock-full of `feminine' things--makeup, hair products, hairpins, ribbons, eye pads, ...you name it. Coming from a working-class family with no women other than his mother, Trey had never seen such a disaster of a bathroom--not its furnishings, just the overwhelming mess and clutter. So-o-o...on the pretext of giving Victoria her space in the master bath, Trey `graciously' used the boys' bathroom upstairs, using almost every opportunity to barge in there--in the nude--j-u-s-t as Caleb was finishing his shower.

The scene between Trey and Caleb repeated itself over-and-over again: their positions in the room set--as characters on a stage; their verbiage rote--as lines in a play. If he timed it right, Trey would enter the room when Caleb was about five minutes from finishing. The aqua-colored bathtub in which the boy stood had frosted sliding glass doors that, while not `clear', provided enough of view of the hot, 16-year-old to make Trey's thick, ten-inch cock bounce with excitement.

The boys' bathroom had two sinks on a long counter, and on entering the steamy room, Trey always took the sink nearest the door--almost as if to block any attempted escape. Being 6' 3", the counter was level with the base of the young cop's slab of meat, so, while Trey caked his handsome face with shaving cream--overtly studying Caleb's sublime form through the mirror--his black python would lay on the counter, filling with blood. Slowly, Trey would begin shaving, taking a long, languid swipe, followed by a slow, thorough rinsing--all-the-time watching the teen's sublime body moving seductively under the water--his full, ripe butt mesmerizing the hot, young cop. Taking another long, languid swipe, followed by another slow rinse of his razor, Trey would muse how much Caleb's face looked like that of his beautiful mother ...and his thick, black cock would harden and lengthen further.

You see, while the 23-year-old stud was `all about the ladies', he wasn't opposed to occasionally using his charm and powers of seduction to put some arrogant, White dude in his place. Afterall, why do you suppose the boys' father was MIA? In terms of age, Mr. Sprouse had been an exception--the young cop preferring to take advantage and humiliate some stuck-up frat dude he'd pulled over for suspected DUI. The young jock--knowing he was way over the limit--most reluctantly preferred taking Trey's special `breathalyzer' test to being hauled into jail and dealing with his parent's wrath afterward. Trey loved his job ... almost as much as he loved living in Victoria's bungalow.

Finally, the sound of the shower would cease, replaced by the sound of the glass shower door rolling open on its tracks. This was the sound of music to the 23-year-old, bringing an irrepressible, great sneer to his young, handsome face, as he watched one of the most beautiful sights Trey ever saw--namely, Caleb stepping out of the shower, towel-drying himself. The shy boy invariably turned his back on the young cop whose shaving came nearly to a halt, staring like a hungry lion at the kid's round, lily-white ass glistening with water, and when Caleb ultimately bent down to dry his legs, it was all Trey could do to keep himself knocking the boy face-down on the floor and shove his big, black anaconda straight up the kid's cherry ass, breeding the boy...just like the whore his mother was. (If it weren't for that smart-mouthed 13-year-old, Carver, also living upstairs, Trey would've already done just exactly that--fucked Caleb stupid by now. For now, though, the hot, Black stud figuratively paced back-and-forth on the savannah, eyeing his prey hungrily.)

As the 16-year-old jock finished drying himself, tying the damp towel around his slim waist, Trey always caught Caleb surreptitiously taking-in the lower half of his ebony, god-like body from the corners of his innocent eyes. Despite having a girlfriend, the kid definitely had a thing for him, Trey assured himself. The young, Black hunk followed Caleb's eyes from his feet all the way up the cop's muscular legs until settling on Trey's hard, round, ass, whereupon the kid's pale cheeks would flush with the heat of embarrassment. Rinsing his razor, Trey's deep baritone would break the silence, mumbling a "Mornin'," startling young Caleb, now at the other sink reaching for his comb, who'd merely nod in return--his mouth being too dry to speak.

Why the greeting always startled Caleb, he didn't know. Maybe, subconsciously, he hoped to comb his hair and get the hell out of there without any interaction with this intruder who'd turned their household on its head? Regardless, it seemed it was always about at this time--through the mirror--that Caleb would spot the young cop's big, black cock lifting its weight up from the counter on which it had rested--Trey's smooth, ripped abs as its backdrop. Caleb's cheeks would blush anew, wishing his mom's lover would simply use the master bath downstairs...as he should!

The young, Black stud would chuckle, saying something like, "Your mom...she sure like it too," winking at Caleb in the mirror, languidly swiping the razor down his handsome face.

Flustered and agitated, the teen always ignored the remark, squinting his eyes in anger and reaching for the hair dryer. It was this time, Caleb regretted growing his hair out, since it took (seemingly) for-e-v-e-r to dry when all the 16-year-old wanted was to flee to the safety of his room.

This scene happened over-and-over again--at least four times weekly--the only variant being the entrance (stage left) of Caleb's slothful, younger brother--nude--needing to piss with morning wood of his own. Pissing into the toilet (with the seat down, naturally), the mouthy 13-year-old always asked the question Caleb was too polite to ask, "Tell me again... Why is it you don't use your own bathroom?? It's Mom that's into hard-ons, not us."

Trey had no interest in Carver...principally due to his personality. The spell would be broken, his python coming back to rest on the counter. Angry now, Trey would flip it back on the smart-mouthed teen, his deep baritone ringing out, "You must'a been hopin' I'd be in here, boy, coming in here all-gay with that tiny, little peckerwood!"

How Carver wished he could tell the big dude--just once--to `fuck off', but he was smarter than that. For his part, Caleb was just glad to get the hell out of there.

It wasn't that Trey thought Caleb was, like, totally gay, but it was fact White boys had a thing about Black cock, being insecure about their own, little cocks. What's more, the boy was a lacrosse jock--a sport Trey considered for pussies--a-n-d Caleb had a girlfriend--a hot, piece-of-ass-cheerleader into which the young cop wouldn't mind dipping his meat a time or twelve. Nevertheless, Trey was confident Caleb was cherry...all around. He'd watched the teen around his cheerleader girlfriend on three, different occasions, when Caleb brought her to the house for dinner. The boy totally lacked confidence around the girl, and besides, what sort of 16-year-old brings his girlfriend on a dinner date...to his mother's house! What's more, every time Victoria stepped out of the room, the busty, little bitch openly flirted with Trey...right in front of Caleb! All-in-all, it was a waste of good pussy, and nothing aggravated the young cop more! Thus, predictably, the morning `bathroom drama' always ended with Carver nodding-off on the toilet seat waiting his turn, while Trey beat his big piece of meat inside the shower--beads of water running down the hot stud's smooth, ebony skin--imagining himself giving Caleb's little cheerleader-girlfriend the fucking she obviously needed--his thick, black cock thrusting in-and-out of her tight, blonde pussy.

Today, however, Trey had overslept, missing his morning view of Caleb's hard, round butt, and, as I mentioned earlier, the young cop had sauntered into the dining room, wearing only flip-flops and a threadbare pair of running shorts--too short to be called decent--plopping himself down in a chair on the same side of the table as the boy, having first turned his chair to face Caleb. After all, looking so much like his mom, the teen was certainly easy on the eyes, and conveniently, they were alone in the room...at least for now.

As Trey sat, he hiked his shorts up, so that, sitting down, five, thick inches of mouthwatering, black cock lay exposed for all to see ...well, anyone on that side of the table, that is. His long, sexy legs stretched apart, invitingly, and out lengthwise toward Caleb, acting as a lure for the boy's wandering eyes. Raising a spoonful of cereal to his mouth, Caleb began chewing, willing himself not to look. Then, he felt Trey nudge his butt with his big toe and heard the deep voice order, "Sit back proper, so I can rest my foot in yo' lap. It's still sore from walkin' yesta'day's beat."

Caleb, who'd been leaned over his bowl of cereal on the table, looked over his shoulder at Trey incredulously, wondering if he'd heard the 23-year-old stud correctly. As Caleb looked into Trey's hard stare, he felt an embarrassing sense of obedience come over him. The 16-year-old sat up properly, and the large, black foot landed across his left thigh. Looked down at the big, masculine foot in his lap and stared at it a second too long.

"You right-handed," Trey stated quietly but firmly, "Why don't you rub it with yo' left hand while you eat. You ain't usin' it anyway." He waited a second before adding the magic word, "Please?"

A dizzy numbness settled over Caleb, as he stared at the big foot. Then he heard the voice again, "Go on. It won't bite you." Caleb watched his left hand--as if under someone else's control--as it wrapped itself around the big foot and his fingers began gently massaging the smooth skin on the bottom of the foot. Caleb noticed the perfect shape of the toes and their smooth nails. A smell wafted up from the foot--not a bad smell, just different somehow. He heard the sound of his spoon as it slipped from his fingers, landing in the bowl on the table. Then slowly, Caleb turned his head, looking down at the long leg--following it so. very. slowly. upward... from its graceful ankle...over the long, muscular calf...to the strong, meaty thigh. And that's when he saw it: seven, thick inches of exposed cock--its meaty head unsheathed and glistening. Trey's big hand groped the shaft still hidden by the skimpy shorts, as Caleb stared--dry-mouthed--at the great slab of meat--unaware he massaged the young cop's beautiful foot using both hands now.

From several feet away in the adjacent kitchen, Victoria Sprouse entered, pouring herself a cup of coffee dressed only in a lacy bra and tiny, almost see-through pair of panties. She was in a hurry, needing to return to the master bath to finish getting ready for work. Trey carefully pulled his foot from Caleb's lap, nudging this his toe to break the boy from his apparent trance, and turned in his seat, hiding his black python. Looking her direction, the young cop ordered his girlfriend, "Babe, bring me a cup of that coffee."

Looking down at his uneaten cereal, Caleb's face was pale, and he was disoriented, wondering what had just happened. Bringing Trey his coffee and seeing her son so pale, with half-eaten cereal, Victoria Sprouse walked around the table, concerned, feeling her son's forehead. "Honey, you're warm! Do you feel okay?"

"I'm fine, Mom," Caleb answered, still staring at his bowl of cereal.

"Well, I don't think so! You're staying home from school today and resting. Do you hear me?" Victoria told her son.

Just then, Carver came strutting in, dressed, likewise, in only a pair of flimsy running shorts. Before he could sit down, though, Officer Douglas grumbled at the 13-year-old, "You woke me up last night, boy. What were you doing, rattling your brother's door at 2:30 in the morning? Huh??"

Carver had clearly told his bro he'd come to his room during the night for another ride on Caleb's hot ass, dry-humping his magnificent, hard globes again, explicitly warning his older brother of consequences should his door be locked. To Carver's way of thinking)--being spoiled and conceited--he was just as hot as his older brother (if not more so), he was just as tall, a-n-d he was bigger where it counted! Caleb should feel honored Carver would even want to dry-hump that ass of his! And BY GOD, what did Carver find at 2:30 in the morning but a locked door!

With six inches of hard cock raring to go, 13-year-old jiggled his brother's doorknob, whispering abusive, vulgar epithets through the door, demanding entry, but from within the room, silence reigned. Caleb laid on his side, staring at the door struggling inside--reluctantly acknowledging he found the experience with his little brother earlier in the day highly erotic ...in an oddly demeaning sort of way. Hell, he'd even cum. Of course, he was stronger than Carver, so Caleb could've stopped the attack at any time ... but he didn't. The feeling of his younger brother's bigger cock driving up-and-down between his hard mounds, whispering obscenities and demeaning words, while groping Caleb's hard pecs, made the 16-year-old feel vulnerable...and somehow feminine ... and it turned Caleb on--just as it had putting Logan`s 13-inch cock inside his wet, hungry mouth moments prior to Carver's assault. In the end, however, staring through the dark at his door, Caleb resolved that boundaries--especially those of a sexual nature--needed to be reestablished between he and his little brother.

Feeling angry and vengeful and having the protection of his mother, Carver listened, as Trey demanded an answer for the racket upstairs that woke him during the night. Acting wide-eyed and innocent, the 13-year-old bashfully asked Trey, "You really wanna know??"

"Fuck, yeah, boy!" Trey asserted, whereupon Carver did what any intelligent, manipulative person would do. He threw his older brother under the bus.

"Okay, but you're probably gonna be mad at me..." the young boy feigned timidity. "I went to his room last night," Carver paused for effect, "wanting Caleb to share the bud he and Logan Johansen smoked in there yesterday afternoon, but Caleb wouldn't open his door. See? He's always looking after me, trying to teach me right from wrong, and now, I realize he was right not to share his weed."

Trey's face flashed with anger--not at Carver, but instead at Caleb. The coffee Victoria had just placed on the table rocked in the cup, threatening a mess, as the policeman's palm slapped down on the table. White boys always got away with everything, in Trey's estimation, while Black boys got sent to Juvi (or worse) for doing the s-a-m-e, goddamn things. His anger was not so much about the pot as it was about entitled White boys and his jealousy over any attention Victoria gave her `perfect' sons.

On top of all that, though, was the fact Caleb had brought one of those White trash Johansen's into his house. (Of course, the house wasn't Trey's at all; rather, this line of thinking simply reflected the young cop's dominant, controlling, alpha persona.) The Johansen outfit--including their offspring's offspring's offspring--was one of a few dozen families continuously in trouble with the law--in-and-out of the city's jail seemingly all-the-time, dealing dope, assault, prostitution, bad checks...you name it. Off the top of his head, Trey didn't know (or realize he knew) this Logan Johansen kid, but he knew well Logan's older brother, Wade, currently in lock-up for rape. As a rookie member of the police force, it was out of the question, having this trash being seen coming in-and-out of the place where he lived. It looked bad, and appearances meant a lot in this town.

In fact, Trey had already met (or at least, seen) Logan Johansen; he just didn't realize it, yet. A couple of years ago, the boy had come to the city jail to visit his older brother (or father--wherever the truth lay), when Trey happened to be clocking-in for his shift. He'd even asked who the kid was, wanting to ensure the minor was a family member; Trey had simply forgotten the incident along with Logan's name. What's more, the young cop was unaware Logan had been pulled from his toxic environment at age 13 and placed in the supportive foster home of his high school wrestling coach, who now helped the boy attend the state university there. The only concession Trey granted--though never publicly--was that, of the family he'd seen, they were certainly a good-looking, well-kept outfit--something rather uncharacteristic of most white trash, the handsome cop thought.

"You had an illegal substance in this house?? ...in the house where an officer of the l-a-w resides??" Trey shouted at Caleb. "Do you realize I could lose my job if they knew there was dope in my house??"

Victoria swept her favorite child, Carver, from the room, pulling him into the master bath with her, where she needed to finish getting ready for work. The hot, 36-year-old MILF locked the door and sat on the padded bench, pulling Carver down next to her, wrapping her arms around the boy and laying his face between her scantily clad breasts. Though Carver was already an inch taller than his mother, she continued spoiling him any chance she had, and, hearing Trey shouting across the house, now was such an opportunity.

Ever playing into his mother's disturbing weaknesses, Carver wrapped his arms around his mother's bare, silky body--so soft and warm to the touch--and whimpered into her breasts how much Trey's anger frightened him. Victoria pet the boy's soft, mid-length hair, feeling his warm, moist breath against her breasts--breasts that were hot and swollen with milk from the newborn she currently breastfed. "Sh-h-h," she cooed, "Everything's going to be fine, honey. His bark is much worse than his bite. And anyway, I won't let him do anything to you!"

With Carver wearing only a pair of loose running shorts, the boy's smooth, warm skin rubbing against Victoria's near-nude body began exciting the model-hot MILF in very inappropriate ways. The fresh, youthful scent of Carver's hair and skin wafted upward, intoxicating Victoria's brain with images of her own teenage years, while the boy's large, aggressive hands roaming her body reminded the beautiful, blonde mother that her son would soon be a young man--a hot, virile young man ... and Victoria's cunt throbbed with need.

"He scares me sometimes, Mom, and all I want in the whole world is for us to be happy together--you and I." Using his impressive acting talent and phenomenal powers of manipulation, Carver began sobbing, garbling, "I love you so, so much... And I want us to be together... I n-e-e-d you, Mom... I r-e-a-l-l-y need you..."

Feeling his warm tears running over her highly sensitive breasts, dampening the material of the low-cut, lacy bra, Victoria continued to coo and whisper reassuring nothings to her handsome, young boy. She clutched her fingers in her son's soft, fine hair, pressing his soft face, wet with tears, tightly against her aching breast. Carver moved his right hand to his mom's full, hard breast, gently squeezing the alluring, succulent fruit.

Maternal instincts can be very strong, especially following birth when the least bit of crying from a baby, for instance, can generate the flow of milk. Within her breasts, Victoria felt the hot milk flowing, unstoppable, through the lace brassiere. Everything for the highly sexualized woman now seemed to move in slow-motion, as in a dream--a very degrading, erotic dream, the kind Victoria preferred. Carver's fingers slipped deftly inside the top of the now-wet, skimpy bra, pulling the lace material down while seamlessly sliding his eager, demanding lips over his beautiful mother's large, pink areola. Squeezing the large, hard breast, warm, sweet milk flowed like a stream inside Carver's mouth, as the 13-year-old jock sucked and swallowed what he could, while the remainder slipped under the seal his full lips against the hot blonde's hard, aching breast, trickling across the boy's chin and down his sternum.

History was repeating itself for the beautiful, 36-year-old (looking every bit 26, instead), having yet another of her teenage sons molesting her--the other stud being Cameron, away at college now. Or w-e-r-e they `molesting' her? Wasn't it true she now paraded around the house in low-cut bras and skimpy, lace panties--panties leaving nothing to the imagination? Wasn't it true she breastfed her little mulatto baby in front of the boys, wearing nothing but those panties? And more importantly, wasn't it also true she knew full-well her 13-year-old watched from the staircase late at night, as Trey buried his handsome, aquiline face and long, pink tongue deep inside her beautiful, blonde muff--going as far as making eye-contact with the boy staring down between the staircase balusters?

Let's face it: Victoria was a nymphomaniac--the thing responsible for the end of her marriage. Her husband couldn't keep up with her needs and was both devastated and humiliated to discover his wife was fucking another attorney at his law firm, the stable boy at the country club, a-n-d the neighbor boy who cleaned their pool. Victoria proudly recognized her sons were exceptionally handsome and, well... with no man around after the divorce, turned first to her eldest to satiate her craven desires. Then, being introduced to Cameron's friend, Logan Johansen, Victoria accustomed herself to three-ways with the hot stud and her son, becoming quite smitten with Logan's domination a-n-d his a-m-a-z-i-n-g 13-inch cock!

For some reason, having sex with Caleb, her middle son, didn't seem quite `right' to Victoria (as odd as this sounds). The boy seemed somehow too wholesome--too nice, too pure--to attempt seducing him, and, unlike his brothers, Caleb didn't seem to have that drive or `hunger' for sex. Victoria wished Caleb exhibited this hunger, as the teen jock looked so-o-o much like her older brother, Bryce (the boys' uncle), when he'd fucked Victoria's 12-year-old cherry pussy. (G-o-d, how handsome Bryce had been then!)

Victoria was puzzled and dismayed at the difference between Caleb and his brothers. She was even convinced the boy didn't masturbate--unlike her other two sons, whose crusty sheets she secretly licked. Perhaps, without her knowledge, Caleb washed the items he `soiled'? (Considering Caleb had obviously gone through puberty, Victoria hoped this was the case, pushing the thought of her beautiful son being impotent out of her head.) Yes, Caleb had his buxom, little cheerleader girlfriend, but having witnessed the two together many times and having pressed Caleb on the matter, Victoria was certain the two 16-year-olds hadn't had sex...with each other, that is. (The hot, blonde MILF was sure the little cheerleader-bitch had long-since lost her hymen--just not with Caleb.) The boy seemed to have as many hang-ups about sex as his father.

At the moment, though, Victoria's thoughts were all about her other beautiful son: 13-year-old Carver, nursing on her full, round breast--his hands slipping inside the back of his beautiful mom's lace panties. She stood, lifting her young boy-stud, and just as Victoria slipped her hands inside the waistband of Carver's shorts, the doorknob to the bathroom rattled, followed by Trey's voice booming, "Why have you got the door locked??"

Unfazed, Victoria yelled angrily toward the door, "All your shouting has upset Carver terribly! You should be ashamed of yourself!"

"Ah-h-h, FUCK that," Trey bellowed. "I'm takin' Caleb upstairs and search his room for this w-e-e-d he denies having. Then, he and I are gonna have a man-to-man talk about this subject a-n-d about hangin' out with that fuckin' white trash. I don't want that Johansen kid in this house! And while I'm up there with Caleb, we are N-O-T to be disturbed! You two understand?? You're not turning this boy into a pussy, like you are that one in there with you! You here me, Vic?? You spoil that brat too fuckin' much, and he'll end up as big `a p-u-s-s-y as his dad!"

"You take it easy with Caleb! He's running a fever, so he's not going to school today!" Victoria shouted through the door. "And I'm NOT turning Carver into a `pussy', as you so nicely put it," pushing the 13-year-old's knit running shorts over his round butt and down his legs, freeing his tumescent cock.

"Whatever," Trey muttered. "Just don't bother us while I'm investigating this thing. That goes for you too, little bitch-boy! Just get dressed and get to school!" the young cop shouted at Carver, hidden behind the door. Having his large hand around the back of Caleb's neck, Trey marched the boy from the room, down the hall, and up the stairs in search of the nonexistent weed.

Victoria, meanwhile, pulled Carver down on the rug on top of her, pushing his young face deep in her soft, blonde muff. Having watched Trey from the balusters far too many times, Carver cautiously opened his mouth and slid his tongue between Victoria's swollen pussy lips--the place from which he'd emerged into the world. Carver was hesitant, having heard stories about how horrible girls smelled and tasted down there, but imagine his surprise, discovering the opposite was true...at least in the case of his mother! In fact, not only did she smell great down there, but she was apparently way hot for him, having already cum! Receiving much of his sex education via online porn, this is, at least, what the virgin jock-boy thought, now eagerly lapping and swallowing the thick, tangy goo--unaware that which he ate was, in fact, Trey's abundant load deposited that morning. Just as he'd seen the young, Black stud do, Carver spread and lifted the backs of Victoria's thighs, digging his nose in the flowery-scented cunt, sucking and swallowing the addictive-tasting cum with abandon. The older boys, including Cameron, were such fucking liars. If all girls tasted like his mom, he was down for pussy any day!

Victoria clawed at the boy's long, blonde hair, whimpering and biting her lip, trying her best to stifle the moans welling deep inside. For a virgin, Carver was a pro! Her boy must have learned a LOT, watching Trey from the stairway most nights. However, as hot as this was for Victoria, she was well-aware she was on dangerous ground, what with Trey just upstairs.

, but, as surprisingly as good a pussy-eater as her boy was, time was passing quickly. Trey might come back at any moment, and Victoria wanted her beautiful boy's cock inside her. "We don't have much time," she whispered, pulling Carver's wet, glossy face from her blonde muff--his heavily-lidded eyes dazed with confusion. "And I need you in me so badly," she added, breathlessly lost in her insatiable desire for cock.

At 6" in length and 2 ½" in diameter, Carver's young cock was far from Trey's Black anaconda or, for that matter, Logan's big, donkey dick, but Victoria didn't care: she'd yet to meet a cock she didn't love. She reached down, guiding the illicit meat inside her warm, wet cunt, pulling her boy down on top, as their ravenous tongues dueled. "Fuck me, Carver... I need your fuckin' cock inside me... Oh, y-e-a-h, fuck momma's cunt, baby... Pump me full of your hot cum... You're momma's beautiful, beautiful boy..."

For a virgin's first time, the moist, silky heat surrounding Carver's cock was simply too much for the boy; he wouldn't last long (as is typical of most first experiences). Notably, though, something morphed in Carver's adolescent psyche. While he was never a bully, Carver had always used is popularity--at school as well as home--to gain advantage, to gain power. Having sex made the teen `a man', and always having influence over his mother, Carver now felt himself `conquering' his mother, controlling her almost completely. After all, now, Victoria could turn to no one for advice or to assist in punishment: Carver could put her in prison.

With her sticky breasts pressing against his young, teen chest, Carver thrust wildly into the warm, cunt below, sucking at his mom's delicate neck as she tried pulling the boy's mouth back to hers. Although Trey was a great `licker', he seldom left Victoria with any marks, so she couldn't risk having a hickey to explain. Panting into his mom's ears, Carver whispered gruffly, "You like your baby's cock inside you, Mom??"

Victoria's hands slid down her son's smooth back, groping the boy's hard, round globes pounding her cunt. "Yeah," she panted. "Oh, yeah..."

"You want your baby's cum inside you, huh??" The query was merely rhetorical--Carver having no intention of withdrawing his hard, aching cock. "You wanna have a baby together, Mommy?? Huh? Just think... I'm fucking the cunt I came out of. That turn you on, M-o-m??

Victoria could only pant the truth, "Yeah... Oh, yeah..."

"What if Trey walked in here? That turn you on too??" Carver mocked his mother, getting only a groan in response. "Maybe we'd spit-roast you. You'd probably like that, wouldn't ya? ...just like Cameron and Logan used to do with you."

Victoria's eyes flew open, hearing what she thought had been secret.

Staring down at the beautiful woman, Carver chuckled, "You must think I'm stupid; that's C-a-l-e-b, not me." Victoria closed her eyes again, pulling her beautiful son's mouth down to hers, as he thrust wildly into her. "But I'd prefer it if he got the fuck outta here! I hate his guts! Have you all to myself then ...unless I invite my friends over. You wanna get gangbanged by a bunch of 8^th graders??"

Carver envisioned some of his hot, popular, jock friends on top of his mother, and all too soon--from his perspective--he began blowing his load inside the pretty, blonde beneath him. Her fingers clawed at his scalp, as she locked her slender legs around the boy's hard, bouncing mounds--unwilling to release Carver's mouth from hers or his cock from her cunt.

Carver moaned into his mom's mouth and, yanking his head from her grasp, yelled, "Fuck!" before Victoria quickly muffled his mouth with her hand. Inside the warm cunt, Carver's cock felt surrounded in a sea of cum. Ignorant about women's bodies, the young teen assumed some of this thick wetness must be his mom's sweet tasting cum, but as much as he'd like to taste it again, there was no way in hell Carver would eat a dude's cum, even if it were his own. Instead, he slumped down over Victoria, panting while reveling in the near-overwhelming feelings of this experience. Surely, Carver imagined, he'd remember this day as the best day of his life.

Victoria let the boy lay on her for a few seconds then began pushing on his shoulders. "Get up, Carver," she urged--herself panting from the fucking. "Get up. Trey could be at the door any minute." The boy didn't budge. "Dry yourself with a towel and go get some clothes on. Give me about 10 minutes, and I'll drive you to school today. You can wait in the living room for me." He took the large, pink areola inside his hot, wet mouth again, and, this time, Victoria used more force. "Go on now. I'm already late for work, and you'll be late for school if we don't hurry."

Reluctantly, Carver took his mouth off the beautiful breast and got to his feet. "This is gonna be a thing between us, you know?" He helped his mom off the floor.

"I don't know, Carver," Victoria whispered, watching her son dry off. "It'll be hard finding..." she started, being cut-off by the young jock-teen.

"You'll make time," Carver sneered, looking her straight in the eyes. "You'll make time, because you love me...and because you don't want any trouble." Before she could think what to say, the boy opened the door and was gone.

As he rounded the corner of the hallway, entering the living room to head up the staircase, the big smile on Carver's face disappeared. Strewn down the staircase were his tennis shoes and a change of his clothes for the day: briefs on one step, a shirt he hated across two, and jeans on the landing. `That motherfucker!' Carver thought. He supposed this was the cop's not-so-subtle way of reminding Carver he wasn't welcome upstairs until Trey was finished with Caleb, and as if this weren't clear enough, there at the foot of the stairs sat his backpack.

Upstairs behind Caleb's closed door, Carver could hear the asshole yelling at this brother to stop lying, and it made him angry. As the young teen collected his clothes and retreated to the living room to dress--intentionally in front of an open window for any and all to see his beautiful, naked glory--the baby began bawling. Carver wished the 23-year-old would take his little half-breed and leave the country...leaving he and his mom alone to make a beautiful baby of their own!

Dressed and bored of waiting on his mom (taking longer than the 10 minutes she'd indicated) Carver yelled down the hall he'd be waiting in the car for her, which is where Victoria found her son 20 minutes later ...behind the wheel exercising his new-found power, insisting he drive the way to school (never mind the fact he didn't even have his learner's permit). Looking at her handsome son, how could Victoria deny him anything ...especially now.

* * * * * * * *

Trey marched Caleb upstairs--his strong fingers wrapped around the back of the boy's neck. Pushing him into Carver's room, the tall, Black cop--with his chiseled face and narrow, almost Asian-looking eyes--ordered the 16-year-old to pick out some clothes for his younger brother to wear to school. "Hurry up! I don't have time to waste on that fuckin' punk brother of yours!" Leaning into the doorframe watching Caleb from behind, Trey's anger over the Johansen kid and the weed being smoked under his roof began to wane, as his eyes soaked-up the breathtaking view of the 16-year-old's full, round butt hidden beneath the tight, low-cut, G-Star Raw jeans he wore. `Yeah, I'll give it to him r-a-w, alright,' Trey thought, `He's just fuckin' advertising, wearing shit like that. He might as well be walking around with a sign, saying, `Come on, what're you waiting for?? F-u-c-k my hot, jock ass'.'

Underneath Trey's threadbare shorts, his 10-inch anaconda once again began to lengthen and plump, poking its helmeted head and two inches of thick shaft beyond the leg opening of his shorts. The cool air in the house wafting against his hot, exposed meat alerted Trey to this fact--not that he gave a fuck. Still, the young, Black cop felt compelled to play his role as man of the house with anger, asserting his dominance over the passive, 16-year-old stud. Besides, due to his occupation, there was no way Trey could have a Johansen hanging out at his house, smoking weed and god knows what other drugs.

Caleb grabbed a pair of his brother's jeans and tighty-whiteys off the floor and pulled a shirt from the boy's closet then turned toward the desk to gather Carver's laptop and books when Trey bellowed, "What the f-u-c-k are you doing now?? I said get his clothes!"

"I thought you told him not to come back up here?" Caleb asked cautiously, explaining, "He'll need his laptop and stuff for school." Despite Carver being a pain in the ass, Caleb still looked after his brother, both at home and school.

Frustrated, Trey marched toward Caleb, grabbing the clothes from the young jock's arms. "Get his shit in the backpack then! Hurry up!" The lean, muscular cop turned to leave the room and, seeing Carver's sneakers, bent down, grabbing them as well.

Watching the 23-year-old bend down, Caleb's mouth went dry, staring at the threadbare material stretched across the hard melons of Trey's ass. Caleb could definitely appreciate what his mother saw in the young cop physically ...but why was he getting that weird feeling?? He turned back to his task, confused and disturbed by his reaction to Trey--stirrings in his groin that began happening when the young, Black stud moved into their home six months ago. Caleb tried blocking these feelings, convincing himself it was all part of puberty and the crazy flow of hormones it brought. However, as he loaded Carver's laptop, books, and notebooks into his brother's laptop, Caleb reflected on the incredible pleasure he experienced yesterday, taking Logan's big, beautiful cock inside his wet mouth, sucking that master stud until the older boy's rich, sweet cum filled his mouth and throat. Not only had Caleb cum without touching himself then, he'd also cum following that, when his little brother dry-humped his hard melons--again, without touching his overstimulated cock. The whole experience was fucked-up...perverted! Caleb shook his head angrily, promising himself none of this fag business would ever happen again. Next time he saw Logan, Caleb would tell him he didn't need any more `lessons'. Oh, for sure, there'd be a `next time': Logan was too cool a dude not to hang with!

Trey strode quickly to the end of the hall where he carelessly threw the mouthy 13-year-old's clothes down the staircase. Seeing Caleb hadn't yet emerged from Carver's room, he yelled, "What the f-u-c-k is taking you so long??"

Caleb appeared in the doorway with his brother's backpack, mumbling, "Sorry." When he got to the top of the stairs, Caleb started down with the backpack.

"Just t-h-r-o-w the fuckin' thing!" Trey yelled, now standing in front of Caleb's door.

This yelling jarred Caleb. His dad never yelled at them, and since the yelling began 10 minutes ago, Caleb's fear of the young cop grew greater than it already was. "His laptop's in here," he meekly replied. "If it breaks, we'll just end-up having to buy him a new one."

"F-i-n-e! Just hurry the fuck up!" Trey bellowed--his deep baritone reverberating down the staircase.

`Where's Dad??' Caleb wondered sadly, walking back up the staircase, `I miss him so-o-o much.' Did his dad not love them anymore?? Walking downstairs one night about six months ago, Caleb overheard Trey telling his mom she wouldn't have to worry about the alimony checks anymore--that the 23-year-old cop had set his dad straight. The then-15-year-old stood on the stairs listening to Trey chuckle, adding, "Yeah, he s-u-r-e got a fancy place. Got him a lot bling there!" The voices were too low to hear after that, so Caleb made himself know, angry at Trey's interference. Then, a couple months after that, Trey was driving the family home from one of Caleb's lacrosse games when the young, Black stud said to Victoria, "He musta moved...your old man. Dropped by there to let him know the boys miss him, but the doorman told me he'd up-and-left. Didn't know where he'd moved." Victoria had given Trey `the look' shaking her head to say no more, to which the cop more-or-less abided, giving a parting salvo, "Well, as long as those checks keep coming, I don't care where he lives." In the back of the Range Rover with minimal light illuminating their faces, he and Carver exchanged puzzled looks. Apparently the checks were still coming, as months had passed, with Victoria still living the life to which she was accustomed.

By the time Caleb climbed the stairs and walked to the doorway of his room, Trey was yanking the 16-year-old's desk drawers out, dumping their contents on the hardwood floor with little regard. Pencils and other rounded items rolled across the floor. "What are you d-o-i-n-g??" Caleb asked incredulously--sickened at the mess Trey was making. The boy raced across the room, shouting, "Stop! Stop this!" As he reached the near-naked, 23-year-old, Caleb made the mistake of grabbing a hold of Trey's hard bicep, shouting, "I told you there's no pot in this house anywhere!"

Trey dropped the drawer he was holding--its contents spilling across the floor--and turned sharply, glaring down into Caleb's bright blue eyes. "Are you touching an officer of the law, boy??" Trey growled. "Do you know what `assaulting a police officer' means??"

Caleb's stomach dropped. If he'd been uneasy around Trey before this, the shy jock-boy was now sick with fear. Immediately Caleb released his hand, stammering an apology, "I-I-I'm sorry. I..."

Seething with anger, his eyes narrow with rage, Trey cut the boy off in a low grating voice, "Shut-up, boy, and back away." With his eyes never leaving those of the cop, Caleb stepped backward several steps, nearly stumbling on some rolling pens. "That's it. Nice and easy, boy." Trey grabbed the straight-backed desk chair and slammed it down in the center of the room. "Sit!" he commanded. Caleb nervously walked to the chair and sat down, looking up at the young, Black policeman.

"Where is it?" Trey bellowed, staring down at the boy. "Where's the weed?"

A knot formed in sweet Caleb's throat, as he looked up pleadingly at the handsome cop, not that much older than himself. "Trey..."

"It's `sir' to you, boy!" the 23-year-old thundered. He may have been only five years older than the kid over whom he lorded, but, growing up in a less fortunate neighborhood and having three squalling kids himself already, Trey felt he'd seen it all (though, of course, he hadn't). To the nearly naked, glistening, young Black man, Caleb was just another over-privileged White boy, trying to weasel his way out of a tight spot.

Caleb looked down, over the large, dark pecs and rippled abs, before looking back into Trey's narrow eyes. "Sir, please, you've got to believe me...please! Logan took the weed with him. He didn't leave anything--weed or otherwise--behind. I swear, sir, there's nothing illegal here in this house...that I know of."

Oh, that face! ...those big, blue eyes pleading with him! Trey's cock jerked beneath the skimpy, threadbare shorts, thickening with lust. "'That you know of'! What kind shit talk is that, boy??"

Caleb's eyes darted nervously from side-to-side. He'd been thinking of Carver when he'd added that clause; god knows, what his little brother might be up to. Caleb didn't like lying, but he certainly wasn't going to throw Carver under the bus ...despite the fact the cocky 13-year-old had ratted him out less than a half-hour ago. "Sir, all I meant was that I can only speak for myself. I have no knowledge of any drugs being on the property--none!"

Trey walked to the boy's chest of drawers, pulled the top drawer out, and unceremoniously dumped the contents on the floor. T-shirts, briefs, and socks fell in a pile on the floor. Trey pulled his right foot from the flip flop and used his toes to nudge the heap apart. There was nothing there. Looking over his shoulder, Trey saw the boy sitting quietly, hanging his head, shaking it in disbelief at the mess he'd have to clean up later. The young cop turned quickly to Caleb's closet, pulling boxes from the shelf directly above the neatly hung clothing, opening their lids and tossing them on the floor. Their contents tumbled out: shoes, baseball and lacrosse trophies, photos, ...even Boy Scout pins and ribbons. The fact all these things were boxed away in his closet reflected the fact Caleb was far too modest--too respectful of others--to have these awards cluttering the shelves of his room. If anything, Trey thought, this would teach the boy he meant business about there being no drugs on the premises ...a-n-d no Logan Johansen!

Looking back at the teen jock, Caleb hung his face in his hands--his long, dark blonde hair hanging forward, fanning out in the air. He wasn't crying; he was wishing the young cop OUT of their lives--wishing his dad had never left them.

Trey marched across the mess he'd made, grabbing Caleb's chin and forcing him to look into his dark, handsome face. "From now on, there'll be NO drugs on the premises and NO Johansen trash! Do you hear me, boy??"

"Yes, sir," Caleb mumbled.

Trey slapped the teen's face. "Don't you mumble at me, bitch! Now, give me a r-e-a-l answer!"

Caleb's wide eyes revealed the shock and sting of the slap, while his cheek glowed pink from print of Trey's large hand, but answer he did, "Yes, sir!" Again, Caleb rued the young, Black man's presence in their house, and, again, he recalled that his father had never struck him. The teen's eyes were no longer pleading but burning with anger, his lips defiantly pressed tightly together.

`N-o-w we're getting somewhere', Trey thought. He'd never seen Caleb angry ...and it turned the young cop on! In Trey's opinion, the boy had seemed like the `perfect White boy': good in school and sports, hard-working, well-behaved, and from an upper-middle class, White family. Caleb was just the kind of White boy that had the world in the palm of his hand. "From now on, I am master of this house! Do you hear me, boy?? I am your master!"

"YOU don't own this place! This is my Dad's house! You're just 'shacked-up' here, living off my Dad! You couldn't BEGIN to afford a house in this neighborhood! ...not on your salary! ...not on a cop's salary!" Caleb shouted, rising to his feet. No sooner had the words left his mouth than he'd marveled where he'd got the nerve to say them. His new-found bravado was short-lived, however.

In a rage, Trey rolled his fist in a ball, swung his arm back, and sucker-punched the kid, throwing him over the chair and onto his back on the floor. It all happened so fast. Caleb lay cradling his stomach, groaning, as Trey dropped to his knees, straddling the teen's abs. "Poor choice of words, punk!" Trey growled. "This house may not be mine now, but believe me, it will one day! There are things you don't know, baby boy. But leaving that aside, as long as I live under this roof, I am the m-a-n of this house, and y-o-u are gonna think of me as your `Black daddy', you little b-i-t-c-h!"

With his face flushed, Caleb struggled under the weight of the 6'3" stud. This whole scene had turned into a real nightmare for the teen! Neither of his parents had ever been physical with him, let alone called him names! Again, Caleb thought of his dad, missing him more than ever. "Get off me!!" Caleb yelled, "YOU'RE not M-Y dad! M-Y dad is TWICE the man y-o-u are!"

If Caleb intended his words to hurt the young, muscular stud straddling him, he was surely disappointed when Trey began laughing--laughing so uncontrollably he had tears around his eyes. "You so funny, bitch," Trey began, wiping his eyes, "You think your Dad is the shit, don't ya' White boy?"

Caleb stared up at his half-naked tormentor totally confused by the laughter--his brow furrowed and his mouth agape. There was nothing funny about his dad or the situation in which he now found himself.

The boy's perplexed, incredulous expression only served to renew Trey's laughter: the kid was too innocent, too naïve--something the more worldly, 23-year-old found hysterical. Having grown up in a rougher neighborhood, Trey learned early about the darker side of life--murder, drugs, prostitution, and the like--but having the influence of his wise grandparents and being both intelligent and street-smart, Trey had escaped that which befell many of his contemporaries.

The young cop composed himself and thought for a second, looking down on the hot 16-year-old trapped between his long, brown, tree-trunk thighs. Trey wanted so-o-o much to rub the teen's nose in his secret--to knock the ladder out from under this privileged, White boy.

Caleb squirmed--his frantic, blue eyes searching for some way to escape. He tried wedging his hands between his hips and Trey's knees, hoping to find a weakness, but they were pressed too tightly against him, too hard. Although Caleb denied having any such desire, the teen finally had his close-up view of Trey's long, thick, corded thighs, and, due to the friction created by all Caleb's squirming against the bottom of the Black stud's pendulous balls, about 3" of fat, unsheathed cock had pushed itself out the leg opening of the young cop's shorts.

`Fuck it', Trey thought, his narrow eyes narrowing further. Grabbing the boy's wrists, he pinned Caleb's arms, outstretched, on either side of the jock-boy's head, framing his painfully handsome face, then lowered himself on top of the 16-year-old.

"Get OFF me!" Caleb yelled. "M-O-M!! M-O-M! Help!"

"Shut your fuckin' mouth, boy," Trey growled--his mouth pressed against the long, dark blonde hair covering Caleb's ear. With his nose deep in the boy's soft, thick hair, Trey's brain registered its fresh, lemongrass scent. Caleb smelled as good as he looked, Trey thought, grinding his hard cock against the boy's leg. "Shut your fuckin' mouth, unless you want everyone to know your daddy's little secret."

Hearing mention of his dad, Caleb immediately stopped squirming. Shaken from the struggle, nervous at the mention of his father, Caleb's heart beat rapidly inside his chest, as he labored to breathe under the weight of the handsome 23-year-old. `What about Dad??' Caleb worried to himself.

Trey continued grinding his hips against the boy, inhaling the erotic scent in Caleb's soft hair. "You ever wonder w-h-y your precious daddy doesn't come around here anymore??" he whispered into the hair. "I think he's s-h-y ...confused even. H-e-l-l, I think he's in love with me! You see...he's had his pretty, pink lips wrapped around my big c-o-c-k--not once, but f-o-u-r times, boy! Oh-h-h, he sucks a m-e-a-n cock, your pa! Of course, he was a little 'reluctant' at first, but he eventually got over it."

"LIAR!!!!" Caleb yelled.

"You wanna see some videos on my phone, baby? ...or some of the pics?" Trey dared, chuckling in amusement, his breath warm against Caleb's ear. "And I'll tell you something else too... Your dad never looked prettier than when he was lookin' up at me, moaning, while I f-u-c-k-e-d his tight, little pussy..."

"You fuckin' L-I-E!!!! You're a goddamn L-I-A-R!!!!" Caleb struggled to free himself from underneath the young cop, his hands balled into fists pinned to the floor. "I didn't think I could hate anyone, but I sure as hell HATE Y-O-U!!!!"

"You say the sweetest things, boy, but you'd better keep it d-o-w-n. You wouldn't want your brothers finding out their dad gets fucked in the ass, would ya'?" Trey whispered. "As I was sayin'... For a dude, he's pretty h-o-t, I gotta say ...s-m-o-o-t-h, toned, gym body ...pretty blue eyes and blonde hair ...h-a-r-d, fat ass, just meant for fuckin'..." Trey paused, running his pink tongue from the nape of Caleb's neck upward across the 16-year-old's soft, smooth skin to the side of his face, where, using his nose, he nudged the dark blonde hair aside and dug his tongue inside the jock-boy's ear.

Caleb's ears proved to be quite an erogenous zone for the teen. He hated himself, as he went limp, whimpering--his own five-inch, teen cock filling-out and pushing upward. Even through his jeans, he could feel Trey's big piece of meat grinding into his thigh, but what Caleb didn't know was the thick, ebony cock was leaking so much precum it made it look like he'd jizzed himself, saturating the upper leg of his expensive jeans.

"You remind me a l-o-t of your dad, Caleb," Trey whispered. "You a-c-t like him--quiet, uptight, wantin' everything in its place. You're one of these goody-goody types ...doing well in school and sports ...behaving--except for yesterday a-n-d your foul mouth, b-o-y. Your daddy don't have that! ...even when I've got my big cock shoved all the way inside his hot, little pussy! You'd think he was an upstanding Mormon, you would!" Trey chuckled against Caleb's renewed struggling. He licked down the boy's neck, releasing Caleb's hands, so he could unbutton the top button's of the 16-year-old's shirt.

With his hands free, Caleb pushed against the young cop's shoulders, to no effect, but when he felt Trey's hot, wet lips surround his flat, pink nipple--the slick tongue dancing across its virginal surface--the boy went limp again, uttering something between a groan and a moan.

Raising his face back over the youth's and using his hand to hold Caleb's face sideways against the floor, Trey sucked on the young jock's earlobe then whispered, "A-n-d I've gotta say, b-o-y, you've got your daddy's s-w-e-e-t ass!" Trey drilled his thick tongue inside Caleb's ear, listening to the hot teen whimper beneath him. It was music to his ears. Caleb's hands were once again on Trey's shoulders, but they were only lightly pressing, unsure. "Every morning, you drive me crazy, comin' outta that shower!" Trey murmured. "I just wanna knock you down and plant my face between those hard, round cakes... and shove my tongue so f-a-a-a-r up your ass you have two tongues comin' out your mouth! You smell me, boy??"

Oh, yeah, Caleb `smelled' his mom's 23-year-old fuck-stud alright! The butt of Trey's hand slid down over the jock-boy's face until it was only the young, Black man's long fingers holding Caleb's face sideways against the floor--one on the bridge of his nose and the other three over his mouth and chin. Caleb's arms fell outward against the hard floor--palms up--looking like an angel fallen from the sky on its back. Keeping the two outer fingers in place (on Caleb's nose and chin), Trey slid his two middle fingers between the handsome teen-jock's full lips, and though they parted and closed around them, Caleb kept his jaw shut--the pads of Trey's intrusive fingers rubbing up-and-down the teen's perfect front teeth.

"Open," was all Trey whispered, probing the boy's perfect ear with his long, pink tongue--grinding his big, thick cock against Caleb's thigh. With a deep, guttural moan, the teeth parted, and Trey's long, ebony fingers plunged inside the hot, wet orifice. "Y-e-a-h, that's it... suck those fingers, boy... You wanna be just like your daddy, right?" Feeling the boy's tongue roll around his long digits, Trey's cock belched a large bubble of semi-clear precum onto Caleb's nice jeans. "Oooo...you got a sweet mouth just like your pa." The young, Black cop pushed his long fingers slowly in-and-out the hot, wet, sucking mouth, as he slid his tongue down the nape of the 16-year-old's soft, smooth neck, where he marked the teen-jock as his own. With his lips on Caleb's pec, licking and sucking the young jock's pink nipple, Trey searched with his other hand for the fly of Caleb's jeans, where he fumbled one-by-one opening each button. "You've been driving me c-r-a-z-y with this fuckin' ass, boy... I been wantin' up in it, since I first laid eyes on you... And I seen how you been lookin' at me too, babe...all hungry-like. Ain't that right?"

With Trey's finger-fucking Caleb's wet mouth, slobber ran down his cheek lying against the hard floor, while his slippery tongue danced around and between the masculine fingers. "I s-a-i-d, ain't that right, boy? ...you been hungry for me since you first laid eyes on me..." Caleb moaned his acknowledgement around the long, ebony fingers, while his hands--no longer flat against the floor--rubbed the smooth, warm skin of Trey's gyrating lower back.

It was true: Caleb had been both fascinated and intrigued by the extraordinarily handsome, Black man his mother had brought into their home several months previous. Attending predominately White schools and participating in largely White sports--lacrosse and baseball, Caleb didn't have any Black friends, so when the 23-year-old cop moved in, it was all he could do to keep from staring at the dude--a dude not that much older than himself. At first, it was the raw, animalistic sounds of sex that permeated his teenage brain--sounds he hadn't heard before, owing to his father's Presbyterian views about sex, limiting the act to behind closed bedroom doors late at night. With Trey, however, these previously unheard sounds were now both loud and frequent, occurring any-time, day or night, and any-where, inside or outside the house, which leads us to Caleb's formal introduction to the young, Black stud.

On the day Trey moved into the house the previous July, Caleb had been away at a week-long Boy Scout jamboree, and while the then-15-year-old knew his mom's lover would be moving in, he had no idea when this would happen...nor, of course, had he even met the man. All Caleb had been told was Trey's name and that he was a Black policeman...which sounded safe enough. That evening around 9:30, Caleb's friends dropped him off to a dark, empty house--his mother naturally forgetting when he was due home. Carver was at their grandparent's, and Cameron was at a friend's party (from which he wouldn't return until the following afternoon). Exhausted from the week-long activities, Caleb showered and went to bed.

At around 1 a.m., with his window open, Caleb awoke to sounds and voices coming from their pool. He went to his window, where, alone in the darkness, he watched, as Trey fucked his beautiful mom on her back in a poolside lounge chair under the glow of a full moon and the blue light of the pool. At first, with all the demeaning, degrading language being used by the Black man, Caleb thought his mom was being raped, but then he heard Victoria moaning Trey's name and nearly equal foul language. Thus, was the boy's introduction to his mom's then-22-year-old lover. `How can she possibly love someone who says those things to her?' Caleb innocently wondered, but kneeling on the floor in front of the window, watching from above, the boy's hand quickly found its way inside his briefs, stroking his cock.

Even now, Caleb beat-off at night with the vision of the young cop burned into the backs of his eyelids, fucking his beautiful mom--Trey's broad shoulders tapering to a narrow waist followed by those high, full glutes rising up-and-down slamming into his mom's wet cunt. Caleb wondered then what his mom must be experiencing physically, having a man's cock thrusting inside her like that, but, by the sound of her incessant moaning and cursing, she was somehow enjoying it. With labored breathing, young Caleb came then...and many times since, recalling the event.

Now, being mauled on the floor by the hot stud himself, being spoken to with almost as degrading language, it was almost too much, too fast for the 16-year-old jock-boy. Caleb had never had another dude's hand on his cock, and now Trey's big hand had worked its way inside his briefs and around his young cock, while his other hand was trying to work its way between the hardwood floor and the back of his jeans.

Trey growled in his ear, "Underneath it all... underneath a-l-l your swagger and these smooth, jock-boy muscles, a-l-l you fuckin' overprivileged White boys c-r-a-v-e some Black cock, don't ya'? I've seen your eyes, boy! You're no different. Ever since you brought us over from Africa, you been findin' ways to get our big cocks inside your mouths and asses." Trey drilled his wet tongue inside the boy's ear. "Ain't that right, boy? Deep down, all you White boys are just faggots--faggots for Black cock!"

With his eyes rolled in his head, Caleb was so overwhelmed he couldn't have told you his name, much less answer Trey's questions--not that he expected answers for what he thought was true.

"I just drop my drawers, and a-l-l you White boys fall to your knees fighting each other to get at my cock! ...my great, big, B-l-a-c-k cock! ...just like your sweet daddy! Oh-h-h, he's being shy now, but when I find out where is livin', he'll be riding this cock like a two-dollar whore again! ...and make no-o-o mistake, pretty baby, I'll find your daddy for ya'!" Trey grabbed Caleb's wrist, bringing the much smaller hand inside his threadbare shorts. "Feel that big cock, boy," he growled.

Without realizing his actions, Caleb's fingers wrapped around the unseen meat. It felt hot and thick--much thicker than his own or, for that matter, any the boy had seen in the locker rooms over the years. (And he h-a-d looked.) The soft-yet-hard cock felt as big as his wrist (though surely it wasn't), and softly sliding his hand up-and-down, its skin felt like silk over bone.

"I bet if I drop my drawers, your brothers would fight to suck it too, but you should feel honored: I picked you, `cause you're the prettiest. Yes, you are, baby girl. And you got the prettiest pussy of the bunch. It might be prettier than your mom's, and hers is mighty fine!"

Trey hoisted himself onto his knees and began slowly pushing the old pair of shorts down, while Caleb watched, dazed--his brain overloaded by too much sensation. The young baseball-lacrosse jock laid on the floor, with his jeans and shirt unbuttoned--his ear and pec covered in slobber. Staring down with a slight sneer, the 23-year-old Black stud continued pushing the gray shorts until the big, hard cock bounced freely in the air--its fat head glistening with sex. Caleb's jaw dropped open further--stunned by the sight of the thick, 10-inch cock. Two days in a row, Caleb had been confronted by ginormous cocks--first, Logan's and now, Trey's. They were even bigger than that of his high school and baseball team nemesis, Finn.

Finn was such a jerk ...hot, but a jerk all the same. His was the only other cock Caleb repeatedly saw up-close. It seemed his teammate looked for every opportunity to harass Caleb in the locker room. Too many times after showering Finn waited until Caleb was somewhat off to himself, sitting on a bench putting his clothes on or tying his shoes. Freshly out of the shower, still drying off, the blonde jock-bully would hike his foot on the bench next to Caleb, such that his long cock was mere inches from his face. Using his towel to hide what he was up to, Finn would stroke his cock and whisper something along the lines, "You know you want it. It's all yours anytime you want, pretty boy" or "Hey, look... pretty hot, isn't it? How `bout you meet me at my car after school, and we'll go for a little ride, huh? You can suck it all you want ...our secret. What do say?" Invariably, Caleb would jerk his face away and tell the asshole to `fuck off', but not after having continued sitting on the bench frozen, listening to Finn's seductive voice while staring at his perfect cock--his mouth hanging open in shock every time...a mere 6" from the other boy's manhood. It fucked with his head, and too many times, Caleb found himself between class periods, beating off in the far stall of one of the restrooms, thinking of Finn's cock and the arrogant jock's handsome face.

Trey lifted Caleb's dizzy head off the floor, until the boy's face rested in his dark, tightly curled pubes. He was putty in the young cop's hands--even holding on to Trey's muscular thighs for balance while the hot, ebony stud humped his hard cock and big balls across Caleb's handsome face. Inhaling Trey's musky scent, Caleb found himself kneading the cop's hard, round glutes, high and tight on the Black man's long legs. "That's it, faggot... Get into it. This is your place in life ...on your knees before r-e-a-l men," Trey sneered, getting inside the young jock's head. With his fingers wrapped through the boy's long, soft hair, holding Caleb's head like a basketball, Trey was quite proud of himself: yet another White boy on his knees...right where they fucking belong!

Trey was arrogant, believing himself superior to most other men. He'd been given the tremendous gift of masculine beauty--perfection, even--along with intelligence, which, despite racial inequities, had accorded him--and would continue to accord him--many opportunities of which his peers could only dream. Thus, he was often selective--strategic--in his choice for seduction ... his prey on the climb up the socio-economic ladder in life. Yeah, he'd made mistakes on the way, but Trey was young. His choice of Victoria had been no accident, you see. As a police officer, he'd had to attend court from time-to-time, where he'd become acquainted with Victoria's husband, a prominent, stunningly handsome attorney, whose eyes betrayed himself. Trey then scoped-out Jeff Sprouse's residence--a large, Craftsmen bungalow in an exclusive, tree-lined neighborhood, but the seal on the deal came when the 23-year-old spotted Jeff's awesome beauty of a wife, Victoria. All Trey had to do was wait to pull the hot babe over for a traffic violation, and as luck would have it, the hot babe also happened to be a nymphomaniac.

Beginning in high school, Trey acquired an appreciation for `power dynamics', leading to his choice of profession. Bringing down arrogant, privileged White boys had become a delicacy for the handsome, young Black stud--the more privileged and arrogant being like caviar--and policing wealthy college boys provided ample access to said delicacies. Pushing some drunk, handsome college jock against a brick wall in an alley at 2:30 in the morning, yanking the dude's jeans down to his knees, and shoving his big cock deep inside the kid's ass had happened on more than one occasion. Once, at 4:00 in the morning, Trey had come upon a buff, frat jock who'd crashed into a parked car along a residential street. Of course, the dude was drunk as a skunk, so facing a DUI and an angry father, he had no choice but to climb into the backseat of Trey's patrol car and suck his first cock. A couple of months later, patrolling the sidewalks in the small city's bustling downtown, Trey spotted the same dude swapping spit with a hot sorority chick outside a bar, and saying nothing, Trey walked on. Two nights later, however, on an unusually warm Saturday night that brought all the college kids out to the bars, he spotted the same dude--less drunk--who quietly approached Trey, trying to small-talk while awkwardly looking downward. The young cop knew what the jock needed, so they went on a drive, where the frat boy got more than he bargained for.

Now, with 16-year-old Caleb, a flawlessly handsome jock, licking his tight, curly pubes moaning, Trey was convinced he'd eventually have the whole, fucking Sprouse family on the end of his cock before he was finished with them. As anxious as he was to experience Caleb's tight throat, Trey was f-a-r more interested--you might say, `obsessed'--with the boy's amazing, round ass, so, knowing his time was limited that morning, Trey lifted Caleb up, limp, dragging him across the room on his knees to his bed, where he threw the boy across, with his round, naked ass bent over the side of the mattress.

"Oh-h-h, fuck me-e-e," Trey gasped aloud, seeing up-close the ass he'd boned over for months now. Kneeling, he hurriedly untied Caleb's shoes, pulling them off and yanking the boy's jeans and briefs down his muscular legs and off his feet. On his knees, inches from the marvel, the young cop was nearly breathless staring at--what he was convinced to be--the most beautiful sight he'd ever seen. The 16-year-old's ass was hotter than ANY chick's Trey had seen, being perfectly round, full, and plump, curving seamlessly to Caleb's narrow waist and muscular thighs, and having not a hint of hair on either globe's the hard, creamy surface. His eyes dropped downward over Caleb's jock thighs and legs, noting their light covering of blonde hair. `Yeah-h-h...the perfect, White bitch--in body and mind', Trey determined. It wouldn't take much addicting Caleb to his big, Black cock...being such a "nice, quiet, well-behaved" kid--something the young cop also associated with `White privilege'. These kids didn't have to grow up being `street-smart'.

Trey reached out, feeling the beautiful globes with his large, dark hands. `What an ass...' Like a chick's, Caleb's skin was smooth; unlike a chick's, the teenage baseball-lacrosse player's glutes were firm, almost `resistant'.

Feeling his ass being squeezed and groped, Caleb's voice broke the silence, begging quietly, "Please, don't."

Trey ignored the plea, captivated with the teen-jock's marvelous ass. Pulling the meaty cheeks apart, he was treated to the sight of the most beautiful, little, pink pussy Trey had ever seen. Hairless, saving a couple of tiny wisps here and there, the little star seemed to pulse...to wink...at Trey, and the young, Black stud actually suddenly felt light-headed, while his lips and nose formed a cross between a sneer and a snarl.

Now Trey was a big pussy-eater, from age 13, but he didn't touch mouth-to-ass--male or female! No way! Eating a dude's ass was just about the gayest act a man could do! But what an ass! ...what a sweet, little pussy!

Caleb's freshly showered, light, soapy scent drifted into Trey's olfactory cortex. The teen had used the lavender-scented soap his mother continually bought for the household. However, as Trey continued squeezing and groping the young jock's amazing ass, another set of scentless chemicals bonded themselves to those of the lavender wafting into the handsome, Black stud's brain. These chemicals, having no scent of their own, were Caleb's unique, sexual pheromones--triggered minutes ago on the floor as Trey humped the 16-year-old's thigh, driving his long, wet tongue in the teen's sensitive ear.

The young cop's brain was clouded by everything but thoughts of cunt and fucking, as he pulled the hard globes apart again. There it was again, the little, pink pussy, and as Trey stretched the star further, it formed a tiny mouth whose lips blew kisses at him, beckoning him forward. The Black buck's cock had never been harder, bouncing and smearing globs of precum against the young jock's thigh.

It tasted amazing ...like no other pussy he'd ever lapped, Trey thought, as he made love to the sweet lips that had drawn him forward. And it smelled even better with his nose wedged in the tight, narrow valley.

Caleb's eyes rolled in his head, as he moaned uncontrollably. Never had he ever imagined feeling this good! He twisted on the bed, pushing his lush ass backward onto the feeding mouth ...without one objection from the 23-year-old stud.

Trey `sort of' felt the young jock's hands on top of his, trying to assist pulling his glutes apart, but the feeling didn't really `register'. Neither did it truly register, feeling one of the boy's hands in his short, woolly hair, trying to push Trey's face tighter against the boy's newly discovered joy-box. Losing control of a situation was not the young, Black cop's game, and had he had his wits about him, Trey probably would've slapped the kid around a little bit. That is not what happened, though, with Caleb's pheromones acting as an opiate on the young cop. Instead, Trey used his fingers to pull the sweet lips further apart, wedging his long, thick tongue deep inside the tight muscle while allowing the teen-jock to grip his short fade in a way that otherwise would have been painful.

Trey's slobber gathered then flowed down, over Caleb's balls before dangling then dropping onto the young cop's thigh, where it slowly rolled to his knee, puddling on the floor. Who knew ass could taste so great? And who'd have guessed young Officer Trey Douglas would ever have his oh-so-handsome face planted in another dude's ass ...h-o-w-e-v-e-r mouthwatering it was? Nonetheless, that's where it was ...smashed between Caleb's large, firm cakes, making love to the goddess living deep inside the tiny orifice.

Time passed--without notice... 5 minutes... 10 minutes... 15 minutes... and all-the-while the goddess whispered the boy's secret name to a most attentive, devoted Trey. He simply couldn't get enough of this beautiful pussy, which is exactly what his brain told him lay between Caleb's lush ass. It was the sweet fruit of carnality from which Trey sucked greedily.

Caleb squirmed on the bed, whimpering and moaning, while clutching fistfuls of bedding, pushing back on the lascivious mouth. The teenage jock halfway thought he'd surely pass out--so intense was the pleasure--but the danger of being discovered gave him enough presence of mind to bite his lip, trying to keep his noise to a minimum.

The cloud in Trey's brain was slowly permeated by the signal from the police radio downstairs and his girlfriend's voice at the foot of the stairs yelling up at him. The fog lifted suddenly, and he jumped up, nude--his big cock hard and oozing precum. He ran to Caleb's door and stuck his head out. "What's going on??" he yelled out.

"They're calling you in. I don't know!" Victoria yelled back. "I've got to go! I'm late. Stop interrogating poor Caleb! The boy's not well. He's not to go to school today, remember? Bye! See you tonight! I love you!!"

Trey heard the backdoor close, as he turned, still confused, seeing the boy half-naked, bent over the side of the bed. `What have I been doing?' the 23-year-old stud wondered, as the realization of what happened quickly revealed itself. "Motherfucker!" Trey screamed at Caleb, as the boy slowly pulled himself up from the bed. "You goddamned motherfucker! You say one word to anyone about what happened here and you're dead, motherfucker! Do you hear me, faggot??" Confused and in a rage, Trey blamed the boy for tricking him into doing something that, in his mind, was clearly gay. "We're not done here! Tonight, I'm gonna beat you stupid for this! Then I'm gonna fuck that faggot ass of yours! Maybe I'll come home at lunch and do it, faggot!" Grabbing his vulgar shorts from the floor, Trey stormed out the door and down the stairs, where he hurriedly dressed in his uniform, slamming drawers and closet doors in anger. He stormed out the house, slamming the backdoor with such a force that cups and glasses in the kitchen cupboards clinked against each other.

In his room, sitting on the side of his bed, Caleb sobbed, feeling violated and humiliated. Aside from his open shirt, he wore nothing, and his 5" cock--once hard and throbbing--had now deflated to its 3.5" flaccid state. He was NOT gay! He had a girlfriend, for god sake! The exceptionally handsome 16-year-old hated the fact he'd been so aroused. He hated his cock! It was disgusting, with regard to its behavior ...and pathetic, in terms of its size. Even his 13-year-old brother had a bigger cock than his.

Hearing the police car's squealing tires in the driveway, Caleb rose and began redressing himself, still crying. His grief, while still present, became secondary to a state of determination. Caleb made a decision: he could stay in this house no longer. If he stayed, Trey would fuck him and turn him gay. Having stuffed his books in his backpack, he turned to the closet, dragging out a large duffle bag used for camping.

And it wasn't just Trey, Caleb recognized, quickly emptying the large bag of its camping gear: it was Carver too...what with his fucking `butt humping' antics! One thing would lead to another--for sure, now! And Carver was smart too! He'd probably soon pick-up on what Trey was doing to him. Yanking shirts off hangers, pulling clothes from his bureau, Caleb stuffed the bag full. He would live with his dad...finally, Caleb asserted decisively.

Standing at his bedroom door, feeling the heavy weight of the backpack over his winter coat and equally heavy load of the duffle bag in his hand, Caleb took one last look at the room. The mess Trey had made, dumping the desk drawers on the floor, littered the middle of the room. The mess Caleb made, unpacking the duffle bag, cluttered the floor near the closet. Empty hangers covered his bed, while the drawers of his bureau remained open, in disarray. `Fuck this place!' he thought.

* * * * * * * *

The bright sun filtering through the windows of the PIKE house betrayed the zero-degree weather outside, as Taylor made his way downstairs, heading off to class. Coming the other way was Luke, Taylor's `friend' ...and Logan's Big Brother. Yes, Taylor and Luke ran in the same, tight circle (along with Brad and Matt). All were Seniors (except Matt, a Junior), all were primary officeholders of PIKE itself, all pledged as Freshmen, and all were on the university's football team (again, except Matt, who was on its wrestling team). Matt joined the circle his Freshman year, having developed a friendship with Luke, his then-Big Brother.

Like any circle of friends, there were certain dynamics between them. For instance, while Taylor and Brad were thick as thieves, Taylor and Luke had a certain distance between each other. Yes, they were `friendly', but they didn't go out of their way to hang out together and weren't especially talkative with each other. Perhaps this was due to a bit of jealousy on the part of Luke, considering he'd been sidelined on the university's football team his Sophomore year due to injury. Yet, this detail didn't seem to affect Luke's friendship with Brad, as the two regularly hung out together. Perhaps the distance was due to Taylor's aloof persona, in general. After all, Taylor seemed to keep a certain barrier between himself and almost everyone, including Matt, who was quite likely the nicest, most genuine dude in the whole frat.

At any rate, they got along (excepting a few barbs occasionally thrown both ways), and, to an outsider, they seemed to like each other. The fact was they `faked it', with Luke seeming always to be a little suspicious of Taylor...always wondering what lay behind this invisible `barrier' Taylor kept between himself and most everyone else. Nevertheless, as usual, the two stopped on the staircase and bantered a bit. No one looking on would ever have noticed they were anything but close friends.

Luke was just returning from an 8 a.m. class--something he deeply regretted scheduling--and his fair-complected face showed it, his cheeks bright red from the cold. Despite this detail, Luke was as handsome as ever. Like Taylor, he stood 6' 2" and had the broad shoulders and narrow waist of most athletic studs. Unlike Taylor, Luke had thick, curly brown hair and deep brown eyes and usually had several girls hanging on him, each wanting (and usually getting) a shot at having his big penis filling their cunts with sperm. Indeed, Luke was quite the ladies' man.

It happened that this year Taylor wasn't a Big Brother to any pledge, having turned down that responsibility. It was also true he'd listened to Luke bitching about his pledge, Logan, several times over dinner in their circle of friends. So, with the small-talk with Luke coming to a close and Logan's not-so-lightly veiled threat of the previous night still resonating in Taylor's mind, he tried cautiously broaching the subject of Luke's pledge. "Say, dude, I ran into your boy the other day. He ain't that bad. Had a nice conversation with him."

Caught off guard and wondering who Taylor meant by his `boy', Luke asked, "Who are you talking about?"

"Logan! He ain't a-l-l that bad," Taylor continued.

"Oh, fuck, h-i-m! The hell he isn't! Shows up late most every night, never learns his fucking shit, acts like he's already a bro... What's not to like about the dude?" Luke replied sarcastically.

"Listen, I know you don't like him, and I know he's given you a lot of grief so far, having listened to you at dinner," Taylor stated--uncharacteristically empathetic, "So I got to thinking, maybe I could help you out ...get him straightened out, you know?" hastily adding, "and give you a break."

Now, Luke was really confused. "What the fuck are you talkin' about, dude?? In two weeks, at the next review meeting, I'm blackballing the motherfucker! Then no one has to deal with him!"

A cold chill went down Taylor's back, thinking of Logan's threat and those godawful pics. "Dude, you can't blackball your own pledge. Think what that says about you, and this will be your legacy forever at PIKE!" Taylor tried reasoning. "Listen, I don't have a pledge this season, so let me-e-e take him off your hands. Believe me, bro, when I'm done with him, he'll be wishing you were still his Big!"

The look of disbelief and incredulity which had covered Luke's face the past couple of minutes was replaced with an eerie look of reason and calm--almost one of knowing. This look was accompanied by a long moment of silence, where Luke's dark brown eyes seemed to glisten with mirth and penetrate Taylor's soul. This, at least, was how it appeared to Taylor, who blushed with shame.

Finally, Luke spoke. "Now, w-h-y would you wanna help me?? ...like that, I mean. And why are you so interested in helping Logan?? ...after all you've heard about him. And make no mistake, you'd be helping the cunt get into PIKE--I know you. So what's this really all about, Tay-Tay?"

Trying to act oblivious, Taylor laughed and shrugged his shoulders. "Dude, I don't know what you mean. All I know is you're about to blackball a chill bro who's made it this far ...I mean, at least he's chill with me," Taylor quickly added. "Besides, I know you're busy studying for that CPA exam, and with Beth and me taking a break, I've got some extra time on my hands. It'd help me get my mind off things, ya' know?" Taylor patted himself on the back he'd been able to come up with a halfway decent response on the fly like this.

In fact, his response w-a-s successful in deflecting Luke's questioning ...but not in the way Taylor thought. Luke looked surprised, hearing the running back and his super-hot babe, Beth, were having troubles ...pleasantly surprised, that is. You see, for the past three years, Luke and Beth had been fucking behind poor Taylor's back. Oh-h-h, it wasn't that often...maybe a 12 or so times a year, not counting the week spent at Beth's lake house the past two summers. These rendezvous seemed to happen a day or so after one of Taylor's especially lackluster sexual performances, prompting Beth, the university's head football cheerleader and president of Kappa Kappa Gamma sorority, to turn to Luke out of frustration. (Y-e-a-h, Taylor wasn't too good in bed with women--even `super-hot babes'--frequently losing his erection or failing to get hard at all. Go figure.) The only reason Beth stayed with him was due to his family's extraordinary wealth and Taylor's star-power at the university. In other words, Taylor was her `trophy' boyfriend, and Luke had this figured out, following Beth's little slip-ups. On top of that, Luke could tell she was deeply attracted to him: why else would Beth keep coming back to him and inviting Luke to her lake house? He could just get her over that `hump' about extreme wealth, Beth m-i-g-h-t just marry him. While Luke's family wasn't quite as wealthy as Taylor's, they were f-a-r from poor, after all.

"So what about it?" Taylor asked his handsome friend.

"Huh? What?" Luke replied, having been completely distracted from the subject of Logan.

"Will you let me have a chance at Logan--take him off your hands--rather than blackballing the dude?" Taylor repeated.

"OH-H-H, fuck THAT! You want him, YOU can HAVE him! Fuck him, for all I care!" Luke didn't actually think Taylor was gay; rather, he threw the comment out there as a sign of his disrespect for Logan. (Having said that, there was a teeny-tiny part of Luke's mind that from time-to-time wondered about Taylor's sexuality, but every time it popped into his head, Luke--being 100% gay--immediately scoffed and dismissed the idea as absolutely absurd. According to Beth, Taylor functioned half the time, anyway.) Wanting to go to his room to text Beth, Luke said, "Listen, I gotta study..."

Luke got about two steps passed Taylor, when the running back grabbed his "friend's" arm. "Wait! Who's gonna tell him??" Taylor asked.

"Tell who?" Luke asked, lost in thoughts about Beth's hot pussy.

"L-o-g-a-n! Where's your head, anyway??" Taylor repeated, confused and annoyed by his friend's lack of attention.

"Oh, h-i-m! I couldn't give a fuck about that cunt. Y-o-u tell him! Tell him you're his `big daddy' now...w-h-i-l-e you're fucking him like the piece of trash he is," Luke laughed, walking away. Taylor had just made his day! "Have a great day, bro!" he threw brightly over his shoulder.

"And you're NOT gonna blackball him, right??" Taylor yelled, paranoid about Logan's threat and wanting a clear promise from Luke.

"N-n-nope!" Luke yelled back--nearly at the second floor. Then he stopped, put his hand on the rail, and turned partway around, looking down at Taylor, standing nearly at the foot of the stairs. Back was that questioning, skeptical look on Luke's face. "You s-u-r-e are interested in that dude--something I can't quite figure out. Lucky for you, I've got that CPA exam on my mind." Luke turned, shaking his head, and continued on to the second floor.

A visible shudder went through Taylor's body, as he stood transfixed on Luke's departing form. Slowly, he turned and walked the remainder of steps to the large, open hall of the first floor. Taylor's legs felt weak from the fear Luke suspicioned something, so he made his way to one of the sofas where he could sit a minute and get his bearings. A group of PIKEs walked past him, throwing greetings his way, but Taylor only raised his chin in a half-nod; not raising his eyes, he couldn't have told you who they were. After about five minutes, he decided to text Logan, relaying the news he was now the pledge's Big Brother and the threat of being blackballed--by Luke, at least--had been removed.

He got a reply text, reading, "Good news. Now come to my room and suck my cock--rm 22."

Taylor's heart sank. Luke was right in one regard: Logan was Taylor's nightmare now. He texted back, "On way to class now."

"Come after. Wanna meet my roomie? He's hot too. Zach Lembi--long, blonde hair, 6'. He's the pledge from Jon Swenson's hometown. You sucked him off yet? Haven't figured out his story, but maybe if he sees you sucking me off, he'll pull his out for you too!"

Taylor disguised his fear with a two-word response, "Fuck you." Ten seconds later, his phone dinged again. There was no text, only a high-resolution pic of Taylor's handsome face covered in cum--his mouth open cleaning Logan's cock. Taylor closed his eyes, bracing himself, and replied, "Got it. Later." He rose from the sofa and walked to the door, stepping out into the bright, morning cold.

* * * * * * * *

Matt Jensen was a handsome, All-American type of guy of Swedish stock. With blonde hair and blue eyes, standing 6" 1" and 160 lbs., the young man was very easy on the eyes. He was also probably one of the nicest, most genuine people you'd ever meet and consequently, one of the most popular dudes in PIKE and elsewhere around campus, considering Matt was a star wrestler on the university's team. His broad shoulders, slim waist, and pronounced glutes drew the attention of many girls (and a few guys) around campus, but Matt was devoted to Hannah, his hometown girlfriend, now a Sophomore at Vassar, several hundred miles away.

Hannah was a bright, beautiful girl, who found herself amongst a class of many bright, handsome, ...and wealthy dudes at Vassar. Though having the most important quality in life partner--his outstanding disposition and personality, Matt did not come from money nor was he exceptionally bright. His grades were alright, but he was not a gifted student. Unbeknownst to Matt, Hannah was dating other boys and being less than faithful. She wanted to break it off with the wrestler, but she just couldn't bring herself to tell him. You see, not only was Matt a sweetheart, he also happened to have a secret of which (other than Matt's parents) only Hannah knew. Matt battled depression, taking two antidepressants daily. You'd never have guessed it, considering his brilliant smile and pleasant personality, but such is life.

Coming from a small, farm town in the heartland, Matt had led a sheltered childhood, and while his family wasn't conservative, they regularly attended and belonged to the local Methodist church. Even at college, Matt behaved himself, politely refusing offers of weed and otherwise abiding by the law. He'd become a nice, young man.

The previous night, around 2:30 a.m., Matt was just about to close his Econ textbook and turn out the light when someone quietly knocked on his door. It was Zach Lembi, Logan's roommate. After apologizing for the late visit, Zach explained he was worried about Logan, explaining that, after their pledge meeting, Logan's Big Brother, Luke, and some others had taken Logan down to `the dungeon'. Because he hadn't yet returned to their room, Zach was concerned his friend was still down there.

Matt was acquainted with Logan, who was a Freshman on the university's wrestling team, but aside from one or two brief conversations, he didn't really know the pledge. Matt told Zach to go back to his room and that he'd go downstairs to see about things. The wrestler grabbed his keys and flashlight and stepped into the hallway. Flashlights were a necessity in the basement at night, as they had a thief (or thieves) among the PIKES, Matt assumed, who constantly stole light bulbs from their sockets down there--not just one at a time, but 4, 5, or 6! No sooner would the janitor replace the missing bulbs than they disappeared again. Matt wished he could catch the thief.

As he stepped into the hallway, the house was dark and silent, except for an occasional voice coming from the first-floor grand hall. As Matt headed down the staircase toward the large, open room cloaked in darkness, he noticed five bros still up, playing poker in a far corner of the room with only a small, shaded table lamp lighting their game--a small, faux-candle light with a metal shade, used more-or-less for decoration only. It struck the sexy wrester as odd--even in a frat house--that bros would still be up at 2:30 playing cards...and in near total darkness at that. Matt was a little near-sighted, and, being the poker players sat far across the room, he wasn't able to identify them. He did, however, notice they appeared only to be wearing briefs, though he couldn't be sure. Considering the heat had been turned down for the night and the room was a bit cool, Matt waived in their direction, asking, "Aren't you guys cold??"

After some quiet chuckling, one of them replied, "Nah, we've got some g-o-o-d whiskey over here, Matty. You should come over and join us! Let loose and go crazy for a change, big guy!" Matt heard someone whisper incredulously, "Are you crazy??" followed by another, whispering, "Shut the fuck up, dude!" The voice sounded familiar, but Matt couldn't place it. Then all of a sudden there were six players--one popping up, having apparently been picking something off the floor, Matt guessed.

Matt could tell he wasn't really wanted, and that was fine with him. He just wanted to let Logan loose and get to bed. "Thanks, but I've got a [wrestling] meet tomorrow night. I've just gotta check something out and get to bed."

The bro with all the bravado hollered back, "Dude, I'll give you some meat tonight!" Then in softer, sexier voice, he urged, "I mean it, Matty. Come on over..."

Again, there was harsh whispering exchanged at the table, and a different bro spoke up, saying, "Go on, Matt. He's drunk."

Matt didn't especially like the `joke', but being cool, he just replied, "Enjoy your game. See ya'." Walking down the hallway to the basement door, Matt couldn't help being slightly disturbed that one of his bros would say something so disgusting thing to him. He wondered who they were, but he'd be damned if he'd go back and find out.

Opening the basement door, he flipped the light switch and went down the stairway. Crossing a fair-sized party/meeting room, heading toward the dark hallway leading ultimately to `the dungeon', Matt knew immediately something bad was going down. At the opposite end of the long hallway, light filtered out from a small crack in the boiler room door, where the unmistakable sounds of sex emanated. At first, Matt thought one of the PIKEs might be raping a chick, but as he drew nearer, two clues jumped out. Firstly, the door to `the dungeon' stood wide open, meaning, unless Logan was strapped over the horse, he wasn't likely being held captive in infamous room. Secondly, the repeated use of the word `faggot' indicated to Matt he might be coming upon a gay rape. Because the door to `the dungeon' was open, he feared the victim might be Logan, which infuriated Matt--not that one form of rape is less consequential than another ...but for a brother to rape a pledge really upset Matt.

Procrastinating, he stepped first into `the dungeon', shining his flashlight across the room. Piled on a bench were--what Matt assumed to be--Logan's clothes, causing his stomach to drop. Because of how and where Matt was raised, he was generally uncomfortable with the topic of sex, let alone rape, and having no familiarity with gay sex, he was twice as uncomfortable. To be clear, the wrestler had nothing against gay people. In fact, some of his teammates pointed out a regular contingent of fans, who, they assured Matt, were there solely to support him! Of course, the hot wrestler knew his teammates were just teasing him, but he thought it was nice that gay dudes supported the team. Privately, Matt was even in favor of marriage equality. Nevertheless, despite his open-mindedness, Matt wished it'd been someone else having to deal with this current situation.

Stepping back outside `the dungeon', Matt was so nervous he felt himself shaking. Taking a couple of deep breaths, he walked across to the old boiler room door which stood ajar about two inches or so. Matt couldn't have been more shocked. Who he'd assumed to be the `victim' was, in fact, the aggressor, though the sex didn't seem to be involuntary so much as an odd choice of venue. Matt's innocent blue eyes seemed as big as half-dollars, while his mouth hung open in stunned silence.

Taylor--Taylor, of all people!--lay on his side, nude, sucking Logan's huge, fucking cock!!! Un-believable!! Yeah, Logan had one hand on the back of Taylor's head--his fingers woven through that blonde hair, but Taylor had one arm wrapped around Logan's thigh as if to keep the pledge from pulling away! What's more, Taylor was hard as a rock! The scene, especially for someone a little skittish about sex in general, was almost too much to absorb. The lower part of Taylor's face glistened with cum or precum (Matt couldn't tell which), and the handsome running back was moaning around that great, big cock like someone in-heat.

"Y-e-a-h, SUCK that cock, faggot! Who'd have thought the g-r-e-a-t Taylor Jost was such a COCK-hungry faggot," Logan taunted.

`Oh, so maybe Taylor hit on Logan, when he came down to let him out of `the dungeon'? That's surely what happened,' Matt deduced incorrectly, guessing, then, that Logan must not be gay. Clearly, though, Taylor was getting what he wanted, and the pledge seemed more than happy to oblige. Still, the whole thing didn't make any sense, considering the young-Tom Brady lookalike had a girlfriend, Matt thought naively.

The All-American boy looked on, transfixed, unable to walk away, as his breathing becoming shallow. Taking in Taylor's naked body, Matt's 10-inch, Swedish cock lengthened inside his sweats. Going commando, it pushed up and forward against the soft cotton. His eyes came to rest on his friend's extraordinary ass. `What an ass!!' Matt thought astounded, `It's even better naked!' He'd always had a certain `admiration' of Taylor's ass--hell, e-v-e-r-y-one did!!! Brad was always goosing it, much to Taylor's aggravation, and, on more than one occasion, Matt witnessed, Brendan Penner, Taylor's teammate, push him face-against-the-wall in the Student Union, dry-humping the running back for a good seven or eight minutes e-v-e-r-y time! Of course, all present laughed the whole time, making jokes, though Matt thought it sometimes went on too long. N-O-W, he understood why Taylor didn't seem to fight Brendan off anymore, instead, laying compliant against the wall--his face red with embarrassment and eyes closed, grunting with each thrust into his big ass.

Matt's hand touched his cock through the cotton sweats--his glazed eyes drifting between Taylor's beautiful ass, his buddy's impressive, hard cock, and the show Logan produced with his unworldly cock! Leaning his head against the door jam, Matt slid his hand underneath his sweats. There was no denying what a handsome stud the young pledge was, with his dark auburn hair, broad shoulders, amazing eight-pack ...and mammoth cock! Matt had never seen one that big! Sweat glistened on Logan's big pecs.

Logan pulled the bull-cock out then thrust it back inside Taylor's hungry, wanton mouth, calling him denigrating names, and with each withdrawal, came a `plopping' noise from the handsome running back's wet mouth. "Yeah, you're a good cocksucker, aren't ya'? You're gonna suck my cock anytime, anywhere I want, aren't ya', faggot?" Taylor moaned like a slut around the slab of Viking meat. "Look at you... big Senior... superstar football player... suckin' a Freshman's cock! ...a pledge's cock, no less! You're pathetic, aren't ya? ...a pathetic queer!"

Logan yanked his cock out, withholding it from the handsome running back. "Tell me you're queer for me! Say it!!" he yelled.

To Matt's complete shock, Taylor panted, "I'm queer for you."

"Louder!!" Logan demanded, jacking his thick, 12-inch mega-cock.

"I'm queer for you!" Taylor shouted.

Slapping his wet meat with force on Taylor's face and in his eyes, Logan demanded more. "You want my cum i-n-s-i-d-e you, don't ya? You n-e-e-d it, don't ya?"

Jacking his own cock inside his sweats, Matt's hand was slimy with his own goo. His cock felt so-o-o fucking awesome right now.

"Please, I n-e-e-d your cum," Taylor yelled.

Logan stepped back a couple of inches, quietly ordering, "Open." Taylor opened his mouth wide, gripping Logan's big glutes, while the pledge fired thick, heavy ropes of white goo across the running back's handsome face--ultimately shoving the big cockhead just inside Taylor's mouth.

Watching his friend swallow Logan's cum, Matt couldn't stop his impending orgasm. He felt it shoot directly from his balls and through his cock, where it smacked with a force against the inside of his sweats ...one after another after another after another. However, no sooner had Matt finished than he realized the live sex scene before him might be over, in which case he'd soon be discovered.

With the red brand of shame flushing his fair completion, Matt walked slowly and quietly back toward the basement staircase--his embarrassment intensified by the intermittent globs of cum dropping down inside his sweats, smearing his thighs and knees. Finally, trying to assess the damage, Matt reached down in the dark, feeling the front of his sweats: the cum had thoroughly saturated the cotton material. Disgust and dismay added to his deep shame and embarrassment. He'd cum a LOT!

Near the end of the hallway, the screech of rusty boiler room door pierced the silence, echoing ac. Matt held his body flat against the wall, wondering whether to bolt toward the lit staircase, potentially identifying himself, or simply stay still. Matt knew the pledge's clothes remained across the hall from the boiler room, and he cursed himself for not having the foresight to have grabbed them. That would've given him a leg up on at least one of them--not that Matt was concerned about being able to handle Logan. Still, it would've kept the pledge from chasing after him, though Matt would've dropped the clothes outside the basement door. The wrestler's real concern was providing his friend with some dignity, thereby maintaining their friendship without any awkwardness.

Frozen against the wall, Matt stared backward toward the boiler room, holding his breath. Out through its dim light walked the hot, naked pledge as casual and confident as if he were walking in a park, instead of across the hall ...to get dressed, Matt assumed. Logan's 12-inch cock, though less full, bouncingly led the way. `Well,' Matt thought, `he's definitely got the looks and body for it.' As such, Matt headed for the stairs--again, quietly, but this time, not so slowly.

Stuffing his clothes under his arm, Logan walked out of `the dungeon', turning to close its door. His mind was now full of images of Taylor's oh-so-inviting ass and thoughts about how it would feel wrapped around his slab of meat. Out the corner of his eye, he caught a glimpse of another dude approaching the staircase. Matt had yet to reach the light switch, and, at such a distance--through the long, dark hallway--Logan couldn't quite make out the voyeur's identity, only that he appeared to be a tall, muscular, clean-cut, blonde dude in a pair of light gray sweats and a white t-shirt. Logan began a half-jog down the hall toward the jock, softly hollering, "Hey!" Stopping, he stood there seductively jacking his cock, continuing softly, "Hey, dude! Wanna party?"

Shaken, Matt hit the light switch and stumbled up the stairs, dropping his flashlight that rolled out of his grasp and fell to the basement floor, clattering loudly. "Fuck!" He reached the basement door, passing through it to the safety of anonymity.

Walking casually through the pitch black to the light switch, Logan flipped it on, revealing a red, metal Maglite flashlight, lying 12' away. Grabbing it, he returned to the light switch, flipped it off, and walked back to the awesome ass awaiting him. This time, Logan closed the boiler room door tightly. If the dude wanted a show, he'd have to party as well.

Logan now had two, blonde PIKE queers or queer-wannabes to identify--one, shorter, having longer hair and a Minnesota Vikings knit cap, decidedly living off-site; the other who was taller, clean-cut, and living inside the PIKE house. The challenge brought a smile to Logan's handsome face.

Walking back toward the grand hall upstairs, Matt tried focusing on calming his breath and heartbeat, as the sounds and images of the past several minutes played over-and-over again in his brain. His heart beat so loudly that's all he seemed to hear.

All was darkness as he reached the foot of the open staircase leading to the second and third floors. With the loop of Taylor sucking Logan's huge cock running through his head and all the lights off in the grand hall, it's understandable that Matt had forgotten all about the poker players. They were still there, though--back in the far corner with the decorative lamp now off--and having heard the basement door open and close, they knew Matt was somewhere out there in the darkness.

His heart still beating wildly, it's also understandable, given the pornographic images and sounds disturbing the wrestler's beautiful head, that the hushed sounds of sex from the far-off corner of the grand hall completely escaped Matt's attention. Then, it registered--not the muffled grunts or slurping, but rather, that ethereal, whisper from earlier, approaching in the dark. "Matty? Hey, Matty, is that you, bro? Come on over here."

Alarmed--his big cock still tenting the front of his wet, sloppy sweats--Matt tried stating as sternly as he could, "Go to bed!" Ever the nice guy, though, his voice lacked the threatening quality of authority, and suddenly from the darkness before him strode Kevin ... h-o-t, sexy Kevin, naked as the day he was born. Matt's mouth dropped open in shock, seeing the bro's hard, throbbing, nine-inch cock bouncing before him. "Dude! What the hell are you doing?? ...naked like that!!?"

Known for having no sense of another's `personal space', Kevin stood inches in front of the wrestler--Matt's hard cock pushing his wet, gummy sweats against Kevin's naked thigh. "Sh-h-h! Keep it cool, dude. You should join us back there in the corner. Bitch gives some wicked head and talk about a tight cunt! Damn-near snapped my cock off! ...and that'd be s-h-a-m-e, being it's such a fuckin' beaut, don't ya' think??"

Reactively, Matt's eyes glanced downward before snapping up again. His mouth felt suddenly dry, and though it was open, no sound uttered forth. It was a trick question, as he searched his overloaded brain for a response.

Before Matt could answer, though, Kevin wrapped his hand around the wrestler's hard cock, remarking on the curious case of Matt's wet sweats, "Hmm... Are you just excited to see me or were you downstairs pounding one out??"

His face one foot in front of Kevin's, Matt's eyes were wide with fear. Fear of what exactly, he couldn't say, as a combination of the dark-haired stud's sweet breath and cum-covered cock filled the narrow space between them, wafting inside the blonde jock's brain. Not the quickest thinker to begin with, Matt frantically sought to bring his brain back online.

"Of course," Kevin whispered seductively, "I'd like to think it's the former." He slowly jacked the All-American boy's cock through the gummy sweats then reached for Matt's hand, pulling it forward toward his perfect member. "The thing is," Kevin continued, "you've got a single room, so why would you go clear downstairs to pull your pud??"

When he registered his hand beginning to touch the seductive stud's warm, sticky cock, Matt snapped alert, pushing Kevin away, angrily whispering, "Has everyone turned g-a-y around here?? Go on back to your...whatever she is...or, better yet, go to b-e-d, which is where you should be anyway!"

Matt turned to begin his way up the staircase when Kevin shoved the wrestler's back against the newal post. Chest to chest--their handsome faces less than six inches apart--Kevin gruffly whispered, "No one calls me a faggot, Matty--least of all you, pretty boy ...flaunting that hot ass of yours around here in those tight wrestling pants or your `tighty-whiteys' on the way to the showers. And I've yet to see this `mysterious' girlfriend out East, who never comes to visit, which is awfully strange. Don't you think??" Kevin's hard cock inadvertently pushed its way under Matt's rumpled t-shirt--its gooey head marking its territory against the blonde jock's eight-pack abs. Feeling Matt's cummy sweats and hard cock wedged between his long legs, just under his ballsack, Kevin ground his muscular thighs together, sending waves of ecstasy through the All-American boy. Matt's hands, previously pushing against Kevin's hard abs, now rested limply on the dark-haired stud's nude hips--his long fingers stretched against the smooth, warm skin of the younger bro's hard, round ass. Kevin put his hot, moist lips over Matt's ear, as his hands slid down over the blonde jock's large, tight mounds, squeezing and groping while all-the-time grinding the wrestler's cummy hard cock between his thighs under his ballsack. "Feels good, don't it, Matty?" Kevin whispered in the jock's ear. "Feel my ass, and I'll let you go." When Matt's hands remained frozen on the dark-haired stud's hips, Kevin dug his fingers into the soft material barrier protecting the wrestler's tight rosebud, purring, "Go on, Matty... Feel my ass. Feel it or you'll leave with a black eye. I'll tell everyone you made a pass at me, so I decked you. And who do you think they'll believe? ...the dude who fucks all the chicks or the celibate jock who pushes girls off his lap?"

As Kevin's thick, wet tongue swirled inside his ear, Matt felt weak and degraded, sliding his hands over Kevin's smooth, hard globes. Perhaps it was reflexive, considering his own ass was being groped, but Matt found his fingers squeezing--or, rather, trying to squeeze--the younger dude's granite mounds--so different from a girl's, yet still incredibly thrilling. This was a new type of sex for the All-American, blonde, jock, being controlled--dominated--by another dude--a younger one, at that. If anything, Matt was the one who should be in control; he should be exercising his authority as an officer of the frat. He should be the one pounding Kevin's handsome face. Instead, the tall, muscular wrestler found himself getting off on this scene--getting off to the point of thrusting his cock between the squeezing thighs, while Kevin rubbed his finger over-and-round his slutty button, shooting his load a second time inside the soft, low-riding sweats.

As Matt came off his high, his fair, Nordic cheeks burned red with shame, though, in the dark, his tormentor was unable to appreciate this opportunity. Kevin did, however, appreciate the fact he'd been able to make the blonde jock cum, and he chuckled, feeling the soppy wetness of Matt's sweats coat the inside of his thighs, ballsack, and that special area behind his balls with the wrestler's seed. That Kevin merely laughed, knowing his taint--so close to his own secret name--was now coated with another dude's cum, is curious, indeed.

A burst of anger flared through Matt, as he pushed Kevin off him once again. "You're sick--really sick, Sticklin. You need professional help. Stay away from me, you hear??"

As Matt began his way up the staircase, Kevin softly purred, "Leave your door unlocked, and I'll check-in on you later, babe. I'll be gentle--I swear, Matty." Chuckling, Kevin turned, strutting back through the darkness to his group in the far corner.

Reaching the second floor, Matt suddenly remembered Zach Lembi, whose concern for his friend and fellow pledge, Logan Johansen, began the night's disturbing chain of events. Turning right (instead of left), Matt walked down the dark, silent hallway, with rooms every so many feet. At the fourth door on the left, the hot, All-American wrestler stopped, quietly knocking, and after a moment, the 18-year-old pledge answered, holding the door open. Matt declined, though, preferring to hide his cummy sweats outside the room in the dark hallway.

Zach's long, light blonde hair was mussed from having been asleep earlier in the night and having again dozed off since expressing his concern to Matt, giving the Freshman even more the `surfer-dude' look. Another sign Zach had just crawled out of bed was his clothing ...or rather, the lack thereof. Since his high school years, Zach slept only in his white boxer briefs, but two months ago, as part of his hazing, his Big Brother forced the pledge to begin wearing girls' lace thongs ...at all times.

Instantly, Matt's eyes zeroed-in on the young man's skimpy, vulgar display--dropping from Zach's handsome face, over his nude, athletic body and pumped biceps, to his skimpy, pale pink, bulging thong. The wrestler's jaw hung open in total shock, while the fair-complected Freshman--realizing his error--explained the circumstances, blushing scarlet. Having been asleep coupled with finally being used to the damned thong, Zach had forgotten to put on a pair of shorts before answering the door. Embarrassed, he turned around quickly, grabbing a pair discarded shorts from the floor behind him, unwittingly exposing himself even further. You see, while the blonde pledge was a hot hunk of meat, Zach wasn't exactly the sharpest tack in the drawer--a characteristic he shared with other jocks, including the wrestler himself.

`Holy fuck!' Matt gasped to himself, seeing the boy's hard, round globes separated by the tiny, pink strap. The handsome wrestler's cock bounced alive yet again, growing completely and uncomfortably hard behind his sweats, but fearing the boy would turn around any second, Matt was unable to `adjust' himself. For a moment, as Zach bent over stepping into the shorts, the wrestler felt light-headed, grabbing ahold of the door frame for support, and, while the erotic display lasted only seconds, for Matt, it seemed like an eternity--the boy's amazing, delectable ass searing its image on his brain for decades to come. Staring, as the blonde pledge pulled the shorts up his long legs and over the beautiful, round glutes, Matt stammered, "H-he makes you wear those a-l-l the time?"

"Y-e-a-h," Zach groaned, "He gave me a dozen pair of these. Can you believe it? Told me I'd better wear them at all times. He keeps saying he `can and will' check me anytime--day or night, but, so far, he's only done it in public during the day. You wanna see the others? They're different colors. Logan l-o-v-e-s them on me ...makes me `model' for him!" Zach laughed, thinking Logan was the weird one for liking thongs on a dude. Still facing away from Matt, zipping his khaki shorts, Zach blushed, though, recalling the many unwanted times Logan tackled him on the bed, claiming the need to `adjust' the thong's back strap, rubbing it up-and-down across his little, pink rosebud, leaving Zach with an aching hard-on that stuck inches above the thong's pouch. No-o-o...the hot, blonde pledge didn't think those incidents were quite so funny, especially feeling Logan's fingers rubbing circles over his tiny hole.

Stunned, Matt stammered, "N-no thanks. You say he checks you in public!?!"

"Y-e-a-h," the pledge groaned again, turning back around with a forlorn look about him, hastily adding, "Not outdoors in the cold. Just inside different buildings--like, outside my classrooms when the hallways are full. He makes me drop my jeans to the floor and sing the frat song. It's pretty embarrassing, although I've made a lot of new friends who sympathize with me ...wanna buy me drinks and stuff," Zach added naïvely. "Anyway, where's Logan?? Wasn't he in `the dungeon'??"

"No," Matt answered truthfully. "He's probably just out somewhere, having fun. Just go back to bed and relax."

"Okay," Zach answered, resigned that his best bro was probably out scoring some new pussy. He shrugged his shoulders and, without a care, turned his back once again, unzipping the shorts and letting them drop and pool about his feet, before bending over to pick them off the floor.

In a zone, Matt unwittingly had edged himself just inside the doorway, leaving his wet sweats exposed to the light. When Zach turned around shaking the shorts out before folding them, his big, blue eyes bugged-out in shock, seeing the 10-inch tent pitched in Matt's. The hot pledge stood there, speechless, with his mouth opened, staring at Matt's problem. It was the quiet before the storm--that is, Zach's rambling.

"Dude! Did you piss your pants?? God, I hope I'm not the one who made you hard, dude! Logan says I make him hard, but he's just givin' me shit `cause of the thongs." Zach was a good-natured dude, and, seeing an opportunity to `get in good' with one of the main officers of the frat, he yanked Matt inside, closing the door and flipping the lights off. "Dude," Zach began again, pulling a speechless Matt in the dark toward his bed, "I don't want you to think I'm gay or anything, `cause I'm not. But lately, Logan's been making me jack him off sometimes, so he can get to sleep. He's not a fag either, but he says, `cause we're so tight, it's perfectly normal for bros to help each other out sometimes...though, I guess, he hasn't help me out yet. Anyway, Logan's so-o-o fuckin' smart, it's gotta be true."

Zach sat on the side of his bed, quickly positioning Matt directly in front of him, between his outstretched legs, and before Matt could utter a word, the insanely hot pledge had the disgusting sweats untied and around his ankles. A bit of moonlight shone through the window, illuminating the naïve pledge completely and Matt from the waist down in silvery black-and-whites.

Zach's naturally raspy voice began again, mesmerizing the stunned wrestler. "So Logan coached me into talkin' dirty--says it gets him off sooner--so just pretend I'm some nasty chick, okay?" Grabbing ahold of the fat, sticky, 10" slab of meat, Zach paused, looking up into Matt's face. "Just...you know...I hope you'll help into the frat. My Big Bro is such a hard-ass most of the time. I feel like you're pretty cool, so will you help me?"

Unable to speak, Matt slowly nodded his head.

Zach pressed for clarity, "You'll make sure I get in, right? I'll help you out like this whenever you like. Just say the word, and I'll jack this hog any time, okay??"

In a trance now, Matt again nodded his head, quietly croaking out his parched mouth, "Yeah... sure..."

Zach smiled brightly, "Thanks, dude! You're so dope, man!! I can't wait to hang, dude! And anytime, just say the word. And I'll make it good for you! No homo." Focusing his attention on the task he'd made for himself, Zach ran the long fingers of his free hand through Matt's wet, gooey pubes, while slowly sliding his hand up the big, warm cock. "Oh, yeah, I forgot to tell you... You can play with my hair, if it'll help you think of a girl or whatever. Logan does ...though, sometimes, he gets a little carried away...a little too rough. Whatever. I'll shut up now."

Matt hesitantly reached out, feeling the soft, thick hair, appearing almost white in the moonlight. It did feel soft and silky, like Hannah's, but longer... prettier.

Zach closed his eyes, getting in the zone, like Logan had taught him. "Yeah, what a fuckin' cock, dude... What a big, fat, dope cock... Gonna make it feel so-o-o g-o-o-d--just like it feels in my hand, dude. Gonna make it shoot that load in your big balls, stud...". Zach gently rubbed the base of Matt's big, already tight nutsack, twisting his other hand up the thick, 10-inch cock before him.

At 6' 1", Zach sat tall on the side of the bed, such that Matt's fat, missile-shaped cockhead was level with his mouth, pointing directly at the open orifice. Matt wove the fingers of both hands through the luxuriant surfer hair at the back of Zach's head, pulling the pledge forward--his face at a slightly downward angle. He couldn't help but moan, feeling Zach's hot breath so near his eager cockhead, and when a long, seemingly endless string of drool, landed directly on it, a big, gooey string of cum oozed from its eye.

"Y-e-a-h," Zach's raspy baritone continued--his eyes closed, in the zone Logan had taught. "Want your big, thick meat inside my wet cunt, fillin' me full of your seed, dude... Yeah, fuck my sweet, tight pussy, Big Stud. That's it..."

Matt couldn't believe what was happening. He felt like he might be having an out-of-body experience. Though the thick, soft hair felt every bit like a girl's, the hot, young stud's raspy, gravelly voice coupled with the big, rough hands jacking his cock and rubbing his taint left no doubt Matt was letting another dude get his rocks off. Then--whether it was his thrusting hips or whether he'd pulled the boy's head forward a bit too far--the All-American jock felt Zach's moving lips grazing his oozing cockhead. It didn't seem to stop the pledge from his diatribe, though, which only encouraged Matt to throw himself into the storyline Zach wove ...to a point.

"Y-e-a-h, you like big, fat meat sliding in-and-out your wet pussy?? It's fuckin' a-mazing... so tight, so hot, so wet," Matt whispered throatily.

It was a call-and-response duet, with both sometimes murmuring simultaneously ...or, at least, Zach tried his part. It was hard, though, as Matt's thick cockhead sometimes thrust upward while he was talking dirty, especially whenever Zach moaned the phrase "so-o-o g-o-o-d," and based on Matt's verbal and physical queues, he seemed to demand this phrase:

"How's that cock feel, deep inside your sweet pussy, bitch??" Matt asked, with numerous variations.

"Oh-h-h, it feels so-o-o g-o-o-d...," Zach moaned in response ...or, at least, tried to, as his drooling lips repeatedly slipped around gooey head of the cock he jacked. Somewhere along the line, the story shifted to sucking--cocksucking--and for the first time, the 18-year-old `surfer dude' had the head of another man's cock inside his hot, wet mouth--his tongue swirling around the big, spongy thing, savoring Matt's rich, awesome-sweet cum.

"Oh-h-h, pretty, pretty girl, suck that cock! Suck it, babe," Matt moaned, lost in his fantasy, thrusting his cock in-and-out the hungry mouth. "Y-e-a-h, make love to my cock, bitch... make fuckin' love to it!"

And that, Zach Lembi did! ...willingly, lost in this story that went unexpectedly far out in left field. The dude had the same scent as his best bro, Logan--a light, warm musk--that Zach oddly but completely found thrillingly erotic ...and which also seemed to put the boy in a strange trance.

Zach eagerly sucked the juicy cockhead twisting his head on the impossibly large, thrusting meat. A white froth formed around his pistoning lips--a mixture of cum and saliva, as Matt edged nearer and nearer the point of no return. Then, Zach's thick, middle finger rubbed across Matt's smooth, pink rosebud--pressing, and it was game-over for the handsome wrestler. Matt's eyes rolled upward, as he froze, holding Zach's head down, while volley after volley of his thick, rich seed shot from his balls, through the length of his shaft, into the wet, sucking mouth of the pledge.

Yeah, Zachy sucked that juicy head and swallowed almost every drop of Matt's cum ...and he kept on sucking, swirling his hungry tongue around the spongy head, l-o-n-g after the last glob of cum slid down his throat. Matt had to push Zach's head off his now-tender, spent cock, bending down to pull his sweats back up.

Zach sat totally dazed and confused on the side of his bed, staring forward at nothing in particular. Matt's frothy cum covered the lower half of Zach's handsome face--a long strand of cum hanging from his open, swollen lips.

When Matt finished tying his sweats, he put his face directly in front of the pledge's, spitting just above a whisper, "THIS never happened! Understand?? THIS was YOUR fault, taunting me with that ass of yours! ...taking advantage of me! Get up! Take those disgusting panties off and get on your bed, on all fours!" When Zach didn't move fast enough--still dazed--Matt whispered loudly, "Now! Hurry it up! I want one, last look at it!"

Hesitantly complying, Zach climbed on the bed and assumed the position. He felt the bed move, as Matt climbed on behind him. "Get down on your forearms!" Matt ordered--so out-of-character. Indeed, it was like the whole experience turned him somehow psychotic. Groping the young stud's hard, round, enticing mounds, Matt pulled them apart, revealing Zach's virgin flower. "Oh-h-h, ho, ho, ho...," Matt groaned, staring at the breathtaking site just two feet in front of his face. "Y-e-a-h, this is some primo pussy you got... This ain't right... havin' cunt in the frat... but what a cunt!" Matt's handsome, All-American face drew closer and closer, until he found his mouth licking and sucking the pledge's seductive, pink hole. His big hands groped and squeezed the boy's awesome mounds, as he attacked the tight hole with his thick tongue, trying but failing to gain purchase.

Zach writhed and moaned, spreading his arms and clutching wads of bedding tightly in his fingers. Logan came close to doing this once earlier but restrained himself, preferring to keep his naïve bro on-edge. He would not be happy, discovering someone had beat him to the prize--especially Zach.

Suddenly, voices from out in the hallway resonated, just outside the door, followed by the loud thud of someone dropping to the floor. Matt snapped out of it, climbing off the bed, throwing the pink thong in Zach's face, and ordering him under the covers. He walked to the door--adrenaline pumping--prepared to punch his way out, if it were Logan and Taylor ... but this was not the case. It was actually a handful of voices, picking the (perhaps drunk) bro off the floor, and moving onto the next room--Kevin's room. Naturally, it was Kevin ...accompanied by others whose voices sounded familiar, though Matt couldn't place them.

Matt waited silently, the side of his face pressed against the solid door, listening carefully--his attention focused solely on the voices outside. Once he heard the door shut and it was clear the group of bros were inside Kevin's room, Matt marched over to Zach's bed, insisting, yet again, these same events would never happen a second time.

Matt turned to walk away, when Zach's unique voice broke the silence. Matt found it ...seductive, like the boy. It was the type of voice--for whatever reason--he could listen to all day long--that raspy, scratchy, husky voice full of youthful masculinity. This time, though, it waivered, sounding on the edge of tears, with a pleading question, "Dude, you're not gonna blackball me, are you? Are you gonna get me thrown out?? I s-w-e-a-r, nothing like this has ever happened before..."

Matt froze in his steps, forcing himself not to turn around--not to look into that face again--answering resolutely, "I never go back on my word...never." Pausing, he added, "Please don't ever...trick me like that again." Keeping his eyes off the pledge, Matt slipped silently out the door to the safety of his room, where he broke down in bed, sobbing over the nightmare the night had unleashed.

End -- Chapter 9