Date: Tue, 2 Jun 2015 10:25:57 -0600
From: Colton <coltonaalto@gmail.com>
Subject: BBC on Campus - Chapter Seven

The usual disclaimers:

* My experiences are in everything I write, sometimes just a phrase,
sometimes much more.  However, this story is fiction.  Any resemblance to
actual events or persons, living or dead, is coincidental.

* If it is illegal for you to read this story because of your age, location
or some other reason, don't read it.

* This work is copyright by the author.  Commercial use is prohibited
without permission. Please do not republish any parts of this story without
consent of the author.

* This story depicts unprotected sex. In real-life, be safe!

Thanks for your feedback.  I hope you enjoy the tale – and I appreciate
your notes and encouragement.  Email: coltonaalto@gmail.com.


BBC ON CAMPUS

CHAPTER SEVEN – A BABY, A HOT PROF AND A STONED ROCK BOY

I heard a baby crying down the hallway from my office, just as I finished
reading a lengthy article for my thesis.  I had been working on the article
since the night Trent responded to my summons and walked out of my office
naked, headed for his frat house with a sore ass and a load of my cum
leaking from his greased pussy.  Along with, of course, two ass cheeks
adorned with sharpie graffiti.

The article was a waste of time and it was a relief to have it behind me.
I had to slog through scholarly articles on the off chance they had
something relevant to my thesis.  That was the nature of academic research
– months and years looking at ancillary materials, most of which were
worthless.  Regrettably, the process was necessary to ensure that my thesis
was original and not a duplicate of something done years ago.

The crying in the hallway outside my office was getting louder, coming
toward me.  Compounding the noise problem, my door was open, an effort to
get some air circulation to combat the unseasonably warm fall weather.  I
debated beginning another article, but trying to concentrate with the
sounds of a screaming baby echoing in the hallway was not on my agenda.

Before I could leave, Kent Dornnen and his infant son appeared in my
doorway.  "Oh, sorry, Dillinger, I didn't realize anyone else was in the
building," Kent said.  "I hope Junior isn't bothering you too much."  Kent
was a young professor at Westcliffe, maybe 30.  I knew him only casually.
His classes were among the most popular at Westcliffe, although it was
unclear whether that stemmed from his teaching ability or his crown as the
reigning `sexiest professor' at Westcliffe, a title he had held for three
years running.  The award was unofficial, bestowed by the student body in
an unsanctioned and unscientific online poll.  The college kids were right
about one thing.  Professor Dornnen was easy on the eyes.

Junior took one look at me from his baby carriage and his scrunched up,
tear stained face softened into a smile.  He stopped crying, staring at me
with big blue eyes.

"Damn," Kent said.  "After three hours of crying, he takes one look at you
and stops."

"In the right spot at the right time," I shrugged.  I suspected Junior took
my long dreadlocks for his mother's hair, but who knew?  If that was what
the baby thought, he was probably trying to understand how his mother
suddenly grew to 6'5."

"Now I know what they mean when they say silence is golden," Kent remarked.
"Janice is out of town, so I'm a full time dad for a few days."

"You mean babysitting undergraduates doesn't count as being a full time
dad?" I asked.

Kent chuckled.  "In every way except changing diapers," he said.

"Be careful; that could be coming," I remarked.  I noticed that Kent's
attention was focused on something on my desk.  Following his eyes, I
discovered the tube of lube I had used to coat Trent's ass was prominently
displayed.  It would have been bad enough if the lube had been something
generic like `KY Jelly,' but `Uranus Anal Lubricant' didn't leave much room
for alternative uses.

Most guys would have ignored Kent's riveted stare or made some fumbling
excuse as to explain the lube's presence.  Neither of those options were my
style.  "You ever try this stuff?" I asked, casually picking up the lube
and handing it to Kent.

"No!" Kent said with an embarrassed laugh.  But he gave me a long,
lingering look and said, "Well, actually, yes."

I had wondered about Kent, but knowing he was newly married and with a
baby, I hadn't paid much attention to him.  For some reason I always
thought late 20 and early 30-something fathers were hot.  Maybe because
their babies were tangible evidence of a night when their cocks spewed cum.
I kept visualizing the young dads naked, sweaty and humping to exhaustion.

I hadn't seen Kent in anything other than an inexpensive suit, but tonight
he was wearing a T-shirt with very short sleeves that showed off his arms.
Tall and slender, his muscles were more toned than bulky, but his long arms
were hot.  Something between scruff and a light beard covered his jaw.
That was another thing that appealed to the college kids and sent his
`sexiest professor' marks higher.

Junior was continuing to stare at me in happy fascination, his big blue
eyes beginning to show signs of an impending nap.  Kent was staring at me
with the same big blue eyes, also in fascination, but with no signs of a
nap anytime soon.  I had seen the look on other men's faces and I knew what
it signified.  I crossed to the door of my office, closing it tightly
without saying anything.

Kent wanted me, and I was going to take him.  He wasn't exactly a wounded
deer in the sights of a gray wolf, but my juices were flowing at the
prospect of nailing the young professor.  Just a few days ago, Trent was
bent over my desk, my makeshift gag muffling his cries as I ripped into his
frat boy ass.  And now the partially used tube of anal lube was going to be
pressed into service again.  My office was going to host an ass fucking
twice in the same week.

I could practically taste Kent's nervous excitement as I strode over to him
and bent down to kiss him.  My dreadlocks fell over his head as I slipped a
hand behind him and grabbed a nice, muscular ass cheek.  Kent moaned,
opening his mouth wide and inviting my tongue in.  Kent might be married,
but he was ready.  More than ready.  He kissed me hungrily.

As our mouths locked together, I ground my thigh against Kent's junk.  His
hands found my belt and pants, and he fumbled with them before finally
freeing my cock.  His hands closed on my black monster, and he broke the
kiss, looking down to make sure his prize was as big as it felt.  He
exclaimed, "Jeez!"

I applied enough pressure to Kent's shoulders to bring him to his knees,
and he pulled my underwear and pants to my ankles, feeling up my cock and
balls in wonder.  He seemed to be deciding which he liked better – my
big black cock or my smooth black eggs.  I didn't have patience for
indecision and was about to grab Kent's head and shove his face into my
junk when he acted on his own, licking my hardening shaft and then taking
it into his mouth.  His hands kept massaging my ball sack.  Kent stared up
at me with eager eyes.  I wondered how long it had been since he sucked a
cock – any cock, much less a big black fuck rod.  But the fucker knew
what he was doing with his mouth and was loving it.

I unbuttoned my shirt and stripped it off, interrupting Kent long enough to
kick off my pants and shoes.  Jake had given me the last really good blow
job I had had, and I was tempted to let Kent eat my cum, but the ass lube
on my desk was practically shouting at me.  After Kent slurped on my cock
for a good, long time, taking my rigid shaft down his throat and making
love to the head of my cock, I pulled him off.  Kent got to his feet and I
bent down to kiss him again, getting a little taste of my own pre-cum from
Kent's mouth.

I turned Kent around to face the wall, pulling his T-shirt off and undoing
his pants.  His cock was a pre-cum soaked rod of steel.  Pressing Kent
against the wall, I grabbed the lube and squeezed a liberal amount on my
fuck pole, using the head of my cock to grease his hole.

To get my dick in the right position, I had to squat down.  Most married
guys don't take cock in their fuck chutes very often, and Kent was no
different.  His ass was tight and resisted my intrusion.  I pressed harder
and harder, and finally my cock popped inside Kent's hole, breaching his
sphincter.  Kent moaned, clinging to the wall.  I raised one of his feet to
a nearby chair, giving me better access to his asshole.  I was ready to
impale the hot prof on my black spear.

I forced my cock farther into Kent's hole, sinking into him a couple more
inches.  "Oh, God, wait a minute," Kent said in an anguished gasp.  "But
don't stop!"  I could sense him trying to relax his ass and pulled out
slightly to help him.  He must have succeeded – or decided he would just
suck it up and handle the pain – because after a long minute, he said,
"Oh, yeah.  Fuck me!  Fuck my ass!"  I slammed into him, this time sinking
my entire fuck tool into his hole.  "Oh my God," Kent gasped.  "Fuck my
ass!  Fuck my ass!"

I got into a good rhythm, crushing Kent against the wall as I invaded his
tight hole.  I used my lubed hand on Kent's cock, coating it with a layer
of ass lube.  Between the lube and Kent's pre-cum, his dick was slippery,
the skin pulled tight.  With his head turned sideways and pressed against
the wall, Kent kept repeating, "Fuck me, fuck my ass!"

Junior hadn't gone to sleep after all and now had a happy grin on his face
as he watched me butt fuck his father.  He was far too young to remember
any of it.  Although, who knows what infants see or remember?  Would Junior
have an inexplicable desire in 20 years to fuck a man while standing up?
Or to follow in his father's footsteps and take a stiff cock up his ass
while he was pinned against a wall?

I ran one hand across Kent's abs, playing with the treasure trail that
spilled from his bellybutton.  Kent had a huge, flat bellybutton, the size
of a quarter, and I toyed with it, enjoying the feel of the taut skin.  A
light, almost non-existent smattering of thin hair graced Kent's chest.
Maybe I should fuck him on his back so I could see his bellybutton and
chest, I thought.  Another time.

I felt my nut building and closed my fist on Kent's cock, pumping his dick
as I pumped his ass.  "Oh, God, I'm gonna cum!" Kent exclaimed.  "Fuck me!"
Kent's body shuddered as his balls released and his cum discharged.  Not a
ton of spunk.  He must drain his nuts regularly in his wife's cunt.

I pile drove my cock into Kent's tight hole, ramming him furiously for
another couple of minutes until my cum exploded, filling Kent's hole with
black ball juice.  I kept Kent pinned to the wall for a long spell as my
cock, still buried inside him, softened.  In the meantime, I put my fingers
into Kent's mouth, making him clean off the lube and his spunk and pre-cum.
He didn't have to be told to clean my cock after I pulled out of his fuck
chute.  He immediately dropped to his knees and took me down his throat
again.  Good boy; he knows his place.

Kent was quiet as we dressed.  He wanted to say something, but then didn't
want to.  Married guys are conflicted about cheating with a guy.  On one
hand, it's not as bad as cheating with a woman, but it's still cheating.  I
wondered if Kent had done other guys since he got married.  I wasn't the
first guy to kiss him or fuck his ass, but I might have been the first guy
since he walked down the aisle.

Junior had finally fallen asleep in his baby carriage as Kent got ready to
leave.  Kent hesitated, then pulled me into a kiss, his mouth swallowing my
tongue.  Conflicted or not, Kent didn't want his ride on my cock tonight to
be the last one.  I would accommodate his wishes, but perhaps not in the
way he wanted.

Married guys need a fixed schedule, but by the same token, if they are
planning to stay married, gay sex can be only occasional.  I shoved Kent
against my wall, pinning his arms above his head.  His eyes betrayed
surprise and excitement.  This was one of those times when I would use my
height to its full advantage.  "Listen carefully," I said, my face inches
from Kent's.  "I'm going to tell you what your life will be like from now
on.  I'm going to fuck your pussy on the first Wednesday of every month.
Got it?  9:00 p.m., sharp.  Bring Junior if you want, but come prepared to
get your ass drilled.  I'm going to ride you like a whore.  And I won't nut
just once like tonight.  Tonight was nothing!

"One other thing.  You're not permitted to fuck around with other guys.
Understand?  Fuck your wife as many times as you want, morning, noon and
night, but I own your ass.  You're my bitch, and the only cock that is
going inside either of your holes is the one that just bred you and seeded
your pussy.  Am I clear?"

Kent, surprised, didn't respond.  Being ten years older than I was, he
didn't expect me to dictate things to him.  It would take him a moment to
accept his new reality.

"If you're wondering," I continued, "This isn't optional.  What I just
described is what's going to go down.  I'll repeat myself.  I own your ass.
I own it completely.  I'll fuck you when and how I want to.  You are going
to crave my cock, become addicted to it.  Even now you're remembering how
full you felt when it was up your ass, how desperately you wanted to be
fucked and how empty you felt when I pulled out.  You can't remember ever
having an orgasm like you just had, all because my big black cock was
ravaging your tight pussy.  You're wondering if you'll be capable of
waiting for 30 days before feeling my fuck tool enter you again.  Thinking
about my cock being inside you is gonna make you so horny that you'll fuck
your wife like a wild man, and she'll love it.  Like a junkie you'll need
your monthly fix of my cock in your ass, my cum on your lips, my spunk
shooting in your guts and my ball juice dripping down the back of your
legs.  Does that make it easy enough for you to understand?"

This time, Kent nodded.  Was he irritated that I took it for granted that
he was going to service my cock at my whim?  Perhaps.  But we both knew the
arrangement was exactly what he wanted.  His big blue eyes betrayed him.
In less than an hour he would be whacking himself off while he fingered his
cum drenched pussy and relived the experience of being bred by a black
stud. Strangely, Junior started crying again as Kent wheeled him out of my
office.

It was late as I headed to the old gas station that housed my apartment and
the six sophomore rock climbers living below me.  Most of the guys had gone
to bed, although looking down the glass block corridor that ran in front of
the three garage bays, I saw a dim light from the farthest bay.  Sancho or
Max was still studying.

Travis was the lone survivor, sprawled on a couch in the living room in a
haze of marijuana smoke.  His spiked brown hair was messier than usual, and
his thick lips and flushed cheeks were redder than normal.  He had a couple
of moles on his face that gave him a distinctive look.  He was shirtless,
not unusual.  As was often the case, the scenery made me hesitate and take
in the view before I headed upstairs.  Travis had the ideal rock climber's
body.  A high ratio of muscle to mass, no excess body fat.  His ripped and
cut body turned heads.  He had everything.  Amazing chest, taut stomach,
muscled legs, and incredible arms.  And a nice, round ass, split by a sharp
crack.

Among the rock climbers, Travis was far and away the biggest partier.  He
devoted Thursday, Friday and Saturday nights to booze, weed and pussy,
always in that order.  More often than not Sundays and Wednesdays were
party days, too, and Travis didn't pass up opportunities on Monday or
Tuesday, either.  I had no idea how he stayed in college, but his grades
didn't suffer.  The kid was smart enough to sail by without working.

While he didn't work at studying, he worked at partying and at rock
climbing.  Travis might have been the best of the rock boys when it came to
climbing, and he could do amazing things.  He usually free climbed, and,
belying his carefree, party boy image, when he climbed he was completely
focused, a study in concentration, strength and stamina.  Watching his body
against the red cliffs west of the gas station was dramatic and inspiring.
Travis's flushed red cheeks and grin after scaling a cliff were made for
pictures.  His pumped arms and chest didn't hurt, either.

As intense as Travis was when he climbed, he was completely relaxed and
wild when he partied.  He drank gallons of Fireball whiskey, although that
didn't necessarily set him apart from other college kids at Westcliffe.  On
top of the booze, he smoked dope, too.  Way too much dope.  Travis was a
pot head, plain and simple.  He maintained he couldn't sleep without
getting stoned, so every night he got high before heading to bed.  Even
odds on whether he would be accompanied by a coed bedmate.

From the beginning, because I was young, black and had long dreadlocks,
Travis took it for granted that I smoked too.  He was always asking if I
wanted a hit, which I usually refused but occasionally I smoked a little
with him.  I had no idea where he got his marijuana, but it was good stuff.
Recreational marijuana was legal in Washington, which was three hours away
by car, so maybe he and some friends drove there to buy it legally.  Of
course, that meant illegally bringing it into Idaho and then Montana on the
way back.  The Idaho police, in particular, loved waiting for young guys to
cross the border from Washington so they could search the kids on some
pretense.  Montana had medical marijuana, so maybe Travis had a
prescription for the stuff.  Plenty of college kids did.  Westcliffe was
surrounded by an unusually high number of medical marijuana shops.  Of
course, maybe the local cowboys had medical problems that marijuana helped.

Travis gave me a big smile and asked if I wanted to smoke a joint.  My day
had been long and busy – concluding with topping Kent – and relaxing
didn't sound bad, so I accepted the invitation.  It wasn't long before I
had a good buzz.  Travis must have been completely gone.  Judging by the
ash tray, he smoked plenty before I arrived.  And, from the look of the
coffee table, he had killed several beers, too.  If Travis couldn't find a
party, he made his own.

"Smoking makes me horny," I said, for no particular reason except I was
still remembering Kent's tight ass as I fucked him standing up in my
office.  Travis's dope gave new life to my memory of dicking the young
father, making it seem more intense.  "Nothing feels as good as having your
cock in a tight hole when you're stoned," I added.  Travis was straight and
had a legion of conquered coeds to prove it, so I wasn't anticipating much
beyond commiseration.  And having just gotten off in Kent's hole, my meat
wasn't restless.  But if I had a shot at fucking all six of the rock
climbers, I had to create some opportunities and let them play out.  No
better way to open the discussion with a straight college boy than talking
about sex.

"Oh, God, me too!" Travis exclaimed, sitting up and staring at me as if I
had said something truly profound.  "Nothing better when you're high than
having a big tit in each hand and wet cunt wrapped around your dick!"

I almost got up and walked away.  Talking straight sex with a wasted
college kid was one thing, but Travis's graphic portrayal was more than I
cared to handle.  Still, I persevered, wondering where the conversation
might lead.  "What's the wildest sexual thing you've done when you were
stoned?" I asked.  I steeled myself for a typical straight boy fantasy,
expecting Travis to detail a threesome with two cheerleaders or getting
picked up by a wild, 40 year old cougar and fucking her in an outdoor hot
tub in a ski condo.

Travis didn't hesitate.  He whispered to me in a conspiratorial voice, "I
once got so horny when I was stoned that I let a guy butt fuck me."

Where did that come from?  Travis doing it with a guy?  "How was it?" I
asked, too surprised to come up with a better question.  The gray wolf was
suddenly alert, watching for prey.

"Fucking awesome!" Travis said, his voice betraying excitement.  He frowned
slightly and, as if needing to backtrack and offer an explanation, added,
"Totally weird, though.  I mean, I don't look at dudes and I am crazy about
pussy, but that one night this dude talked me into letting him put his dick
in my ass.  I don't even know if I agreed, but this guy had the hots for me
– fuck, he kept making passes even though I constantly told him to fuck
off.  He was damn persistent!  I don't remember how it happened, but all at
once I was bare-ass naked and on my back in his bed with my legs on his
shoulders, and the motherfucker's dick was poking my ass.  I kept thinking,
`this is wrong, this dude must think I'm a girl.'  At first it grossed me
out, but I closed my eyes and forgot that I was having sex with a guy.
Jus' started thinking about my dick and what my ass felt like.  Suddenly it
was amazing.  I fucking beat myself off twice while the dude was dicking
me.  My freaking ass was sore for a week, but, damn, it was worth it."

Travis's story was stunning.  I had been looking for some way to get to
him, and suspected dope might be the key, but the fucker had just given me
an opening big enough to drive a semi through.  Too bad I had just dicked
Kent, but my cock recovered quickly, and if I was up for another round, I
got hard within a few minutes of cumming.  I made a point of squeezing my
cock, drawing Travis's eyes to my crotch.  He stared with a dazed look and
licked his lips.

"No shit, dude?" I said.  "What was it like, taking cock?"

"Hurt like hell at first," Travis said. I could sense he was reliving the
experience in his mind.  Good.  "But, damn, once that dick was inside me
and pumping my bunghole, something happened.  It fucked with my brain.  It
was like I had a second dick, inside out, and pumping both at the same time
took me to another level.  The guy gave me some poppers, too, and those put
me on a different planet.  I have never cum so hard in my life!"  Travis
eyes were glazed but excited as he recalled his night of sex.  He paused,
taking another drag on a joint and slurping down some beer.  "I kept the
poppers," Travis added.

The gray wolf was poised to pounce.  "You want an encore, don't you?" I
asked.  It was a statement more than a question.  "Right now," I continued,
"you want another dick in your ass."

His eyes glazed, Travis put his tongue on his top lip and mumbled,
"Maybe..."  Maybe was as good as `hell, yes' as far as I was concerned.  I
got up and walked to the couch Travis was sprawled on, and roughly pulled
down his boxer shorts.  Travis looked up at me with his big green eyes like
he was unable to move.  Which, given how trashed he was, might not have
been far from the truth.

Travis was a curious combination of innocence and daring.  He had bright
eyes that the girls loved and ruddy cheeks that made him look like the boy
next door.  But he had a mischievous grin, like he wanted to experiment and
couldn't resist the temptation of anything taboo.  As I stared at him, he
looked younger than he was.  Young, but determined to break every rule in
the book.

Travis's tight, ripped stomach and chest looked awesome.  Damn, the kid had
an amazing build.  He had a random array of moles across his smooth body,
but they made him look young and vulnerable.  I always thought his moles
were hot.

Travis gestured toward the end table.  Along with the bottle of poppers,
Travis apparently kept the end table stocked with lube so it was handy when
he brought women back to the gas station.  Now, however, it wasn't his dick
that was getting slicked up, but rather his asshole.  I coated my cock,
pumping it several times until it was hard.  It was ready for round two,
perfectly happy to have another ass to plunder.

Travis lifted his legs up, ready to get fucked, already sniffing the
poppers.  I positioned his ankles on my shoulders and my fuck tool at his
hole.  "You ready for this?" I asked, although by that time we both had
passed the point of no return, so the question was rhetorical.  My cock was
destined for the rock jock's ass and we both wanted it.

"Oh, yeah, fuck my ass!" Travis said.  So much for the straight
boy-next-door, sweet talking ladies into his bed.  The stoned, horny Travis
below me sniffing poppers was a total slut, begging to be turned into a
pussy boi.  I was about to oblige him.  If he couldn't walk for a week
after the first time he got fucked, I was about to make sure he couldn't
walk for two weeks.

I started to enter him slowly, but Travis wasn't interested in anything
leisurely.  He lifted his ass to meet my dick and grabbed my butt with both
hands and pulled me into him.  "Fuck me like a bitch!" he growled.

I did exactly that.  I rammed my cock into him, making him gasp.  His eyes
flew open like he didn't know what hit him.  But his pussy was mine now and
I was going to use him as a cum dump.  I pulled out and slammed back inside
him, then began to ride his ass, shoving his head and shoulders into the
couch each time I drilled his hole.

Travis's loud gasps were replaced by soft whimpers as I pounded him.  He
closed his eyes and took a hit of the poppers, and I could tell he was
heading to his own little place where he would concentrate on how his ass
felt and not on his boi pussy being used for fuck practice.  "Oh, fuck,
give it to me!" he moaned.

I drilled Travis with long, violent thrusts, sometimes four or five in
quick succession.  They made his body jerk and elicited appreciative moans.
Travis repeatedly grabbed his cock and fisted it four or five times before
letting it fall back to his taut abs.  Fucker's dick was so wet with
pre-cum that I wondered if he had already shot.

Travis kept his eyes closed, but not his mouth.  "Yeah, fuck that ass!" he
yelled.  "Harder!  Fuck it, fuck it, fuck it!"  I was just the man to carry
out the order.  I piston drove him into the couch, giving him a relentless
beat down.  He flexed his tight abs and chest with every stroke of my stud
buster into his hot body.  It was an awesome sight.

Travis hadn't used the poppers much after the first couple of hits, but he
inhaled deeply, once in each nostril, and did his usual thing of whacking
his cock four or five times before dropping his boner.  A good 60 seconds
later, I was stunned to see him blow his load, spontaneously.  Travis's
first shot caught my attention, a quick spurt of cum that splattered across
his abs.  The next couple of shots were more like an overflow valve
releasing.  His cock barely spurted but left a thick pool of jism in his
bellybutton.  I figured Travis was done, but then the strangest thing
happened.  As I pounded into him with a particularly violent thrust, his
cock shot like a rocket, a big, thick wave of cum exploding and arching
through the air until it splashed on his face.  He shot a half dozen more
ribbons of cum, one hitting the back of the couch and the rest
crisscrossing his face, chest and stomach.  A couple of stringy strands
graced his hair.

Travis's cum fireworks was as close to hands-free as I had ever seen.  And
from a straight guy, no less.  Jesse blew his load hands-free the first
time I fucked his dance-boi ass, but I had been shafting him doggy style
and hadn't seen him cum.  I hadn't seen Trent's unassisted spurt on my
desktop, either.  Watching Travis's dick jump, pump and dump on its own was
amazing.  I had fucked the cum out of the straight stoner.

By then, despite having already dumped a load that night, I was close, too,
and ready to seed the drenched rock jock impaled on my cock.  I pulled his
ass even higher off the couch and drove down into his helpless hole.  A
dozen quick strokes and I was there.  I shot into Travis's tight fuck tube,
letting my cum flood his guts.

After I caught my breath, I pulled out, wiping my dick on Travis's ass
cheeks and dropping his feet to the floor.  I took Travis's hand and wiped
the last drops of cum from my dick head, and then shoved his fingers into
his mouth.  He had been fucked before, but I doubt he had eaten black stud
cum before.  It might have been his first taste of another guy's nut milk.
He stared at me with dead eyes, his face dripping with his own cum.

I doubted Travis was going to be able to crawl into bed for a while, but
that wasn't my problem.  "Thanks for the smoke," I said, pulling my pants
back up.  "And the use of your fuck chute."  I collected my things and
climbed to my apartment, leaving the straight stoner seeded and sated.

* * *

Drunk, stoned boys don't always remember getting fucked, and straight
drunk, stoned boys, even when they remember, don't always want to admit it.
I didn't care how Travis reacted.  But over the next couple of days he
blatantly hinted that he remembered, didn't give a damn about admitting it,
and wanted his ass pounded again – provided he was totally stoned, of
course.  Some guys are gay-for-pay.  Travis was bottom-when-stoned.

Oddly enough, Travis's behavior only reinforced my view that he was
straight.  A guy questioning his sexuality would have been bothered by
getting fucked and enjoying it.  Travis was such a hedonist that he wasn't
concerned in the least and just wanted to repeat the experience over and
over.  If Travis ever settled down with a steady girlfriend, I suspected he
would get a dildo and beg her to use it on him, probably at the same time
he was grabbing her tits and fucking her cunt.

After the first night, Travis and I hooked up from time to time when I was
in the mood and he had some good stuff.  He was a damn good fuck for a
straight boy.

Kent punctually kept his ass's monthly appointment to be pummeled by my
cock.  I suppose he was really bisexual.  He loved his wife and, as near as
I could tell, they were young enough and into it enough to fuck at least
daily, sometimes more.  But Kent needed a cock every now and then, and I
provided it.

In some odd way, I was good for Kent's marriage.  He got a fix of stiff
cock once a month – not just a fix, but a massive black python that
seeded his ass three or four times – and he wasn't tempted to look for
more because I made it clear I owned his ass.  He understood his man cunt
was for the exclusive use of my big black cock.  After a month of not
getting fucked, Kent was hornier than hell and desperate to be bred.  For
me, it was nice to have his two man holes to use once a month.  It was a
balance to the teen boi pussy surrounding me on campus and living below me
in the gas station.


TO BE CONTINUED...

Chapter eight is in the works; I hope to have it up in four or five
days. In the meantime, let me know if you like the story, the characters,
the setting (and the sex).  Coltonaalto@gmail.com

Consider a donation to help keep this website alive.
Http://donate.nifty.org/donate.html

© Copyright Colton Aalto 2015