Date: Thu, 8 Oct 2020 18:05:14 -0400
From: Elliott Patterson <elliottpatterson02@gmail.com>
Subject: On Call Slut for the Frat Bro chapter 1

This story is an original work of fiction. It should not be reposted or
reproduced in whole or in part without the author's consent. Furthermore,
this story is meant to be entertainment for consenting adult readers and
not meant for anyone who is offended by aggressive/kinky gay sex. If you do
not enjoy this type of material, or if it is illegal to read in your
country or place of residence, please stop reading immediately.


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==ON CALL SLUT FOR THE FRAT BRO==




CHAPTER 1: Meeting HIM


This is the story of how I majored in dick in college. Mostly one perfect
dick, Carson's dick, but ultimately many dicks, in many ways, for all 4
years. I ended up graduating magna cum laude, emphasis squarely on "cum."


And my story started, as so many do, one lonely, horny night in a dorm
room, wasting time on Grindr.


A little about me:


My name's Teddy, I grew up a few hours away from my university in a nice
suburb with loving parents and an older sister who'd graduated from this
same school a couple years ago. She and I get along fine, but we're not
super close. I came out as gay my junior year of high school, and aside
from a few assholes making snide remarks, it was relatively angst-free. I
was on the swim team, I had a good group of friends, and thanks to the
magic of the internet, I'd found a few guys to experiment with sexually. I
gave my first blowjob to a fellow lifeguard I worked with at the public
pool, received my first BJ from a surprisingly aggressive freshman on the
swim team (yeah, I'll be honest, I loved watching my teammates change in
and out of their speedos), and lost both my bottom and top virginity the
summer before senior year to a guy from the next town over. We spent the
rest of senior year occasionally fooling around, but it was clearly nothing
more than sex.


Physically, I suppose I'm what you'd call "cute." I'm white, 5'9", and
around 160 pounds with a lean body. I don't have a 6-pack but my stomach is
flat and my abs are visible. My dick is average, about 6 inches when
hard. I don't mean to brag, but every guy I've ever been with has commented
on how nice my bubble butt is. My hair is brown and a little curly, and I
keep it pushed forward in the shaggy style that's popular on TikTok. I've
got full lips, which will be important later. Aside from a little hair in
between my pecs and a light happy trail, I'm mostly hairless below the
neck. Pretty twinky, but I suppose I'm lucky I'm relatively
straight-passing--not that I was ashamed of being gay, just because I don't
get pigeon-holed instantly.


I got good grades in high school and scored well on my standardized tests,
so it was a no-brainer to go to the honors college on a full scholarship,
which came with certain advantages over the rest of the university. Yes, it
was more challenging, had smaller classes, better professors and all that,
but more important to me, all students in the honors college, even
freshman, got single dorm rooms.


Why was having a single so important? Don't forget I was an 18 year old
red-blooded male who needed to jerk off at least twice a day.


Sometimes three.


Okay, occasionally six.


Yeah, it was important not to have a roommate.


And so there I was, a freshman about a month into college, staring at my
phone at 1 in the morning on a Sunday night, dick in hand and hoping to
find someone to fool around with. So far, college hadn't been the non-stop
fuckfest I'd hoped for. The gay guys tended to stick together, and I hate
to say it but at that point in my life I was strictly masc for masc. The
only action I'd gotten so far was when I'd drunkenly fooled around with
Max, another freshman in my dorm, one night after a party, but we were so
sloppy that 20 minutes of making out had us both creaming our underwear
before we'd even undressed.


Max was cute enough, but the honors college dorm, Balland Hall, didn't have
much in the way of eye candy. It was coed, mostly nerds, some of whom
became good friends, but no one I'd want to hook up with. The rest of the
campus, however, was another story.


This was a big Division I state school, so the athletes were practically
pros with the bodies of gods. Social life revolved around the Greek scene,
and although I had no plans to rush a frat I certainly enjoyed watching
them play football and frisbee on their lawns. Our athletic complex was
easily the nicest set of buildings on campus, state of the art and full of
high-tech equipment and the best facilities donor money and Nike
sponsorships could buy. While the sports teams all had their own private
locker rooms, the public locker rooms for students were still full of hot
guys--frat bros, club athletes, meathead weightlifters--in various states
of undress. There was no way I was good enough to swim varsity, but I still
spent a fair amount of time swimming laps and lifting weights. I told
myself I didn't want to gain the freshman 15, but perving on all the jocks
was the real draw for me.


Suffice it to say, I was horny all the damn time. Practically every free
moment I wasn't studying or in class was spent with my dick in my
hand. Looking back, I do sort of wish I'd spent more time doing
extracurriculars, meeting new friends, or at least caring about my
studies. But then again, if I hadn't been such a horny little bitch, I
never would have met him.


Carson, my golden god.


At first, the only name I knew him by was "discreet." That was his headline
on Grindr, a blank profile that showed up with a telltale chirp when he
messaged me late that fateful Sunday night. 1,845 feet away, no picture,
the only stats saying he was 19 and 6'1". I opened the message.


"Sup. u lookin?"


"Hey, yeah I could be. Pics?"


Several minutes went by and I assumed I'd scared this closet case off. I
returned to the bareback porn I was watching and kept stroking myself under
my boxer briefs. Just as the Sean Cody studs got into some hard
piledriving, another couple of chirps arrived and to my surprise they were
from him.


The first was a picture of possibly the most beautiful cock I'd ever
seen. Standing up straight, circumcised, clearly a monster of a piece, with
a huge mushroom head and a big vein running down the middle. It was held up
by a hefty hand resting at the bottom of what looked like a ripped set of
abs.


The second was a message: "Need it sucked asap"


I couldn't believe my luck. My boner went from hard to rock hard in an
instant, and I may have even started drooling. Wasting no time, I
responded.


"Fuck. Such a hot cock. I'd love to. Face?"


"No face. Discreet here. Say yes or no now."


For a brief moment, my common sense told me this was a bad idea. What if he
was ugly, or the picture was fake, or I was about to have my organs
harvested and sold on the black market? But of course my horniness pushed
those thoughts aside.


"Yes I want it. Host or travel?"


"You come here. Message when at the corner of State and Beverly. Hurry."


Something about the way he was so demanding flicked a switch inside me, and
suddenly I found myself walking at a brisk clip across campus. The
intersection of State Street and Beverly Road was about 10 minutes away and
smack in the middle of frat row. I couldn't believe my luck.


It was early October and the weather was still pretty warm, even at
night. I wore a long-sleeved black t-shirt and jeans I'd thrown on in an
attempt to hide my raging boner. When I got to the corner I opened up
Grindr and messaged "here."


I looked around and waited. All four corners of the intersection were taken
up by giant frat houses, the Greek letters on their facades lit up. I'd
been in a few of the lesser houses at parties, but none of these. This was
athlete country, the hottest of the hot guys from sports teams, whose
parties you couldn't get into unless you were a girl. I was shocked one of
these guys, closeted or not, would be trolling on Grindr, but I wasn't
about to question my luck.


A few minutes passed. I messaged again, asking where to go, and right as I
was about to give up he messaged back.


"Shed behind Delta house. Take the woods not the driveway so no one sees
you. Message when there."


Delta house was directly in front of me across the street, a huge red brick
mansion. I took the sidewalk along the side and could see the backyard
through a stand of trees. It had a big fire pit, cornhole courts, and
several beer pong tables. Cans and solo cups littered the ground, but
otherwise it was empty. At the back edge of the yard was a small storage
shed. Taking care to avoid the yard itself and any tree branches, I hiked
toward the shed, all the while looking for movement in the house. Once I
got to the shed, I leaned against the back and peaked around the side. I
messaged him that I was in position. I was practically shaking in
anticipation, but being outside like this added more than a hint of fear to
my horny eagerness.


Finally, the back door of the house opened quietly and a figure came
walking across the backyard toward me. As he approached my dick only got
harder. He was clearly tall and fit, wearing a red hoodie with the Delta
letters and grey sweatpants, a prominent bulge between his legs. I could
barely see his face underneath the hood until he rounded the corner of the
shed and nearly ran into me. He was sexy beyond my wildest dreams, a
chiseled jaw covered with a faint dusting of scruff, his blonde hair
peeking out from under a baseball cap.


"Yo," he said, giving me that straight guy head nod.


I offered my hand to shake. "Hey, I'm--" Before I could get my name out, he
had taken a big hand to my shoulder and pushed me to my knees, dead leaves
crunching underneath, grinding my face into his bulge. I groaned at the
package growing against my face, only a layer of cotton separating us.


"You want this dick, bitch?" he whispered. I moaned a yes as best I could
with my mouth mashed against his package. He pulled me back by the hair,
looked right into my eyes and hocked a loogie into my face.


"Yes WHAT, bitch?"


No one had ever spit in my face before. I was confused and scared and
turned on all at once, but something deep inside me knew the words.


"Yes, sir!" I said, surprising myself at the eagerness in my voice.


"Then get to it."


I pulled his sweats down, my hands swiping past the bubble of his rock hard
ass. He wore Under Armour compression shorts underneath, the crotch
stretched obscenely by his growing cock. I slid those down as well and saw,
for the first time in my young life, the face of God.


If God is, of course, an 8-plus inch thick dick with an angry looking
mushroom head. Like all glimpses of the sacred, mine was all too brief, as
not 2 seconds after I first saw my new object of worship did I find it
shoved all the way down my throat, causing me to gag and sputter. He had a
hand on the back of my head and held me there, choking, until I thought I
was going to pass out. Finally he pulled me back and grabbed me again by
the hair to look up at him.


"Not bad bitch. Let's see what that mouth can do."


I braced myself with my hands on his hips and began my best attempt at a
sloppy, deepthroat blowjob. This was easily the biggest dick I'd ever
sucked, but in my limited experience I'd prided myself on giving good
head. I knew I had a gag reflex, but I didn't mind pushing past it. This
dick would be a true test of my skills.


In short order, we established a rhythm. I bobbed my head up and down his
massive length, occasionally pausing at the tip to swirl it in my mouth or
with my face in his pubes, gagging and spitting up as he choked
me. Sometimes I'd be in control of the pace, but mostly this frat stud used
his big hands on my skull to keep the pace. After a few minutes of what I
thought was a vigorous blowjob, he gripped the top of my head with one hand
and began to fuck my face roughly. I tried to keep breathing through my
nose as my mouth and throat took a beating. My eyes were tearing up, so I
could barely see when I noticed a light shining down. He was filming me on
his phone.


I pulled off and through coughs told him I didn't want to be filmed. His
eyes turned to ice and he reached down to pull up his sweats and began to
walk back to the house.


"Wait! Don't you want to finish?" I practically cried out.


"You don't fucking say no to me, bitch. You want *this* dick, you do what I
want," he said, pawing his monster through his pants.


A whole series of feelings passed over me. Shame, desire, embarrassment,
regret, longing, and ultimately submission.


"Please sir," I whispered. "I'll do whatever you want."


"Whatever I want?"


"Yes sir."


He seemed to consider for a second, and then nodded toward the shed.


"Sit on your hands, back against the wall, mouth open."


I did as he said, my hands in the dirt under my jeans-clad ass, and
waited. He turned his phone back on, the flash blinding me, and then I felt
his dick slide between my lips.


For the next 10 minutes, my face was assaulted nonstop by that big frat
cock. He fucked my mouth and throat like I wasn't a person, just a hole,
and I loved every second of it. Drool was pouring down my chin, my shirt
soaked. When he went all the way in, I'd burp up some throat slime, which
only seemed to lubricate the way for him even more. Occasionally I'd get a
break and he'd jerk his cock while forcing his nuts into my mouth, but
mostly I was stuffed with dick non-stop. All the while, he filmed me and
let out a low stream of dirty talk.


"Oh fuck yeah. Swallow that cock bitch. Choke on my dick. You're just a
hole. You cocksucking slut. You like this dick, faggot? Fuck yeah, drool on
those nuts. Gag on it, fag."


It's probably a good thing he'd ordered me to sit on my hands, because if I
could have touched my dick I would have cum instantly. I'd never felt so
hard, even as I was disgusted with myself for allowing a guy, even a god
like this, to use me so violently. But past that shame was a feeling of
certainty that I wanted this more than anything.


Eventually, his thrusts became more erratic and he pulled his length out of
my throat and began stroking it.


"Open up, gonna nut," he grunted. I opened my mouth, my jaw sore and my
lips bruised from the battering they'd taken. He stroked himself a few more
times and then with a wild, low groan, he busted all over my face and
mouth, rope after rope of thick, creamy cum. I lost count of how many
bursts erupted from his cock, but by the time it was over he was panting
over me, one arm braced against the wall behind me. My face was absolutely
covered in his load, and my mouth was full of it too. Just as I was about
to close my mouth, he stuck his fingers in and held my jaw open. Still
filming, he smirked down at me.


"You like that, bitch?"


I nodded.


"I bet. Now swallow my nut."


I gulped his load down.


"Good, bitch. Clean me up."


I sucked his softening length once more and licked my drool from his
nuts. When he was satisfied, he stopped filming, pulled up his pants, and
with another curt straight guy nod, said "later" and walked away. By the
time I realized what had happened I could hear the back door to the Delta
house open and shut. With that, my frat stud was gone.


I came to my senses and realized I was sitting in the dirt behind a frat
house in the middle of the night, covered in a stranger's cum. My shirt was
soaked with my spit, but thankfully I'd worn black and it wasn't too
visible in the dark. The cum on my face began to cool. I rubbed as much of
it off as I could and nearly ran back to my dorm, still hard but with a new
sense of shame and regret. Thankfully, it was late and no one was walking
the halls, so after a stop in my room for my caddy and a towel, I headed to
the showers, not caring if anyone saw me, and within 30 seconds was
spraying my own massive load down the drain.


I tried to go to sleep, but all I could think about was him. His arrogance
and swagger, the way he made me do what he wanted, what I didn't even know
I'd wanted. I sent him a message on Grindr saying how hot it was, how I'd
love to do it again, and jerked myself off once more at the dick pic he'd
sent before I finally fell asleep, content in my ruination. The next
morning, I woke up to my alarm before class and noticed a couple of Grindr
notifications. I was practically vibrating in anticipation, but they turned
out to be just a "u up?" and a dick pic from a local twink I'd chatted with
before. When I went to look at my messages with the frat guy, they had
disappeared. He'd blocked me.


***


Needless to say, I could think of little but him after that night. Several
weeks passed, and wherever I went on campus, I kept an eye out for my frat
stud. A few times, even though I had no reason to be there, I passed the
Delta house on a roundabout walk through campus, hoping to catch a glimpse
of him. In the locker room at the gym, in the dining hall, I hoped I'd see
him, even for a moment, but I never did. At the Homecoming tailgate, drunk
with my friends, I thought I saw him at a keg in the back of a pickup
truck, but it was just another blonde meathead, not nearly as hot.


I alternated between relief and despair, but I was horny all the time. I
began to look up kinkier and kinkier porn, finding myself drawn to
submission and humiliation. The pain aspects didn't interest me, but the
more verbal and nasty the dom was, the harder I came. I'd never thought of
myself as kinky, and all my other sexual experiences had been pretty
vanilla, but after the night my throat was pounded, all I could think about
was submitting to him again.


Midterms arrived, and I found myself too busy with studying for tests and
writing papers to be overly consumed with my newfound interest. Every
student on campus was stressed out. The coffee shops were constantly
overrun and the study rooms in the library became hot commodities. I'd
joined a study group for my political science class and made friends with a
sophomore in it named Kaitlin. A few days before the exam, we were studying
together at a table in the library when I heard her make a scoffing
sound. I looked up and she was glaring past me. Curious, I turned and saw a
group of jocks walking in, loudly snickering at a joke someone had made. In
the middle of the pack, there he was, laughing.


"Fucking Deltas, think they're such hot shit," she said, disgust dripping
from her voice.


"You know those guys?" I asked.


"Not really, but my roommate hooked up with the blonde guy. Carson
Conway. He's on the hockey team. He lived down the hall from us last year
and she was practically in love with him."


"He is hot…" I said, trying not ogle.


"Sure, sex on legs, but a total fuckboy. Literally the day after he finally
slept with Sara he was already bringing some other sorority skank into his
dorm room. Asshole."


I mumbled some words of agreement and pretended to get back to my books. It
was taking everything in my willpower not to turn around and stare at
him. Thankfully, after a few minutes Kaitlin decided she'd had enough
studying and took off, and I finally found myself free to look.


When I turned around, I didn't see him immediately. The jocks had
commandeered a set of lounge chairs and a table, and you could hardly call
what they were doing studying. More like shooting the shit. They were all
hot but I only had eyes for Carson. Finally I saw him, digging through his
backpack for something, and when he looked up our eyes met. For a quick
second we stared at each other, and then out of some combination of fear
and shame I turned back to my books. Of course, all I could think about was
him, but I didn't want to embarrass myself in public. And he did have a
video of my choking down his cock and cum.


I knew I was fooling myself to think I could focus with him there, so I
opened my phone and looked up his Instagram. Private. I looked him up on
Facebook. His profile picture was palm trees on an empty beach. Fuck, I
thought. I have to get out of here. I packed up my books and realized that
in order to leave I'd have to pass right by him and his friends. When I
turned to go, both dreading and deeply desiring his attention, Carson was
staring right at me across the library, a strangely purposeful look in his
eyes. Barely breaking eye contact, he said something to his friends, got
up, and walked toward the stacks, looking right at me the whole time.


I knew what I had to do. Trying to be stealthy but probably looking like a
total creep, I followed at a safe distance. He walked along the back wall
of the library toward a stairwell. When I got to the stairs I could see
that he was walking up. I continued to follow up two more flights. I'd
never been to this floor of the library, and it didn't look like many other
students had either. The stacks were empty of people and there were no
study spaces, just rows and rows of books. I thought I'd lost Carson, but
then I caught a glimpse of him turning a corner to my left. I hurried along
the hallway and caught nearly up to him. If he heard me, he made no
indication. Finally, he entered a men's restroom.


For a second, I wasn't sure what to do. What if I'd completely misread the
situation? Was I about to get beat up? I looked around, saw no one, and,
remembering the way his jaw dropped open when he blasted his load all over
my face, I steeled myself and entered the restroom.


It was a smaller one this deep into the library, just a set of sinks, three
urinals, and finally a pair of stalls at the end. Carson was nowhere to be
seen, so I peaked under the stall walls and saw that someone, presumably
him, had taken the stall next to the urinals, leaving the stall against the
wall free. I entered and sat down, shaking with fear and anticipation. I
had no idea what to do next. I'd seen understall scenes on Xtube, but I had
no idea how to initiate one. Do I tap my foot? Do I just get on my knees?
Is there a gloryhole hidden here somewhere? The bathroom was pretty clean
but it was still a bathroom, with lingering smells of piss and shit. Not
exactly the sexiest location.


I felt a buzz in my pocket and took out my phone. A Grindr notification
popped up. I opened the app and saw I had a message from a completely blank
profile. The message read simply "That u faggot?"


I knew exactly what to answer: "Yes sir."


I heard him get up and leave his stall and knock on mine. Hands shaking, I
unlatched the door and he came through. Standing over me, a position not
unlike our first encounter, he looked so fucking hot. A white t-shirt
stretched over his muscled chest and another pair of sweats displayed that
perfect bulge. He was chewing gum and smirking down at me, and somehow I
knew not to speak until spoken to. I hoped he would just whip his dick out
and shove it in my mouth, but for a few long seconds he just stood there.


"I wondered if I'd see you again, bitch," he said with a sneer.


"M-m-me too, sir," I stammered, barely able to speak.


He chuckled and grabbed his crotch lewdly. I was practically drooling.


"You liked taking this dick?"


"Yes, sir. I loved it. I'd love to do it again."


"I bet you would. All you faggots get dickmatized when you get a taste of
me."


I made a mental note that I wasn't the first guy he'd used. He bent over
slightly and stuck his thumb in my mouth. Instinctively, I suckled on
it. He chuckled again.


"I bet you'd do whatever I say to get this cock again, wouldn't you?"


I nodded, desperate. A dark look came over his face.


"Why should I let you? Practically every girl and fag on this campus would
be willing to open their mouth or legs for me. What makes you so special,
huh?"


I didn't know what to say but I was desperate for his dick.


"Please sir, I'll do anything to suck your beautiful cock again. Whatever
you want, I'll do it. I want to give you the best head you've ever
had. Please, can I?"


The begging seemed to please him, because his smile grew and his eyes
started to light up.


"You'll do *anything*?"


"Yes sir, anything!"


"Interesting…" He stroked his chin in a thinking
motion. "You know, I wouldn't mind having an on call cocksucker. Someone to
take care of my needs whenever they...arise." He glanced down at his
crotch. "Don't get me wrong, faggot, I'm as straight as they come. I love
pussy and I'm never gonna want you more than a chick. But girls can be too
much work, and you fags do give better head than most girls. I can tell
you're not too experienced so hopefully you'll only get better. And most
girls won't let me fuck their throats like you. Or let me record it. But
then again, some will. So why should I let you slob on my knob?"


"Please, I'll do anything," I begged. "Whatever you want, whatever it
takes, I'll be such a better cocksucker than any girl. Please?"


I could tell that he liked to be begged, both by the grin on his face and
the growing bulge in his sweats. He stuck 2 fingers in my mouth and began
fucking my throat with them as he continued. I did my best not to gag.


"Alright faggot. I'll make you a deal. If you wanna be my slut, I'll give
you a tryout. But there's one rule you have to follow above all others. You
wanna know what that is?"


His fingers in my throat, I nodded eagerly.


"I can't hear you, bitch, he growled.


"Yes sir!" I tried to say, but it came out as garbled nonsense through his
fingers.


"Okay slut. Here it is. If you want to be my bitch, you can never say no to
me. NEVER. You got that? We'll exchange phone numbers and whenever I text
you to do something, you do it immediately. When I want something, you get
it. When I need your throat, or whatever, you show up where I say. And if
you ever turn me down, EVER, you'll never see or hear from me again. And
let's not forget that little video I have of last time. That could easily
find its way to Pornhub. So what do you think?"


He removed his fingers from my mouth and for a moment I gasped at being
able to breathe again. I was turned on beyond belief, hard as a rock, and
utterly terrified. Did I want this? Could I even live up to such high
expectations? What about the rest of my life, my friends, my studies?


"I want to sir, I really do, but I also--"


"Shut up." He cut me off. "It's a yes or no question. That's it. Now, I
know what you're thinking, and I'm not an unreasonable guy. I can tell
you're a real fucking nerd, and if you fail out of school you're no use to
me as a cocksucker. So you're gonna give me your class schedule, and I
won't make you skip class. But otherwise, whatever I say goes. And I mean
whatever. No limits at all. The moment you say no to me, we're done. You
understand?"


"Yes sir. I understand." The words came out of me without hesitation.


I wanted this. I wanted him.


"Good, faggot. Give me your phone." I handed him my phone and he entered
his number. When he handed it back, I saw that he'd made his contact name
Sir.


"Okay, a few more rules faggot. You never, and I mean NEVER, text me
first. Unless otherwise ordered, you always wait to hear from me. I don't
care if months go by and I don't need you. You. Never. Text. First. You're
there for my needs, not vice versa. But when I do text you, I expect a
response within 5 minutes, anytime, day or night, or we're done. Got it?"


"Yes sir, I got it."


"And obviously, if you tell anyone about this, we're not only done, but
I'll post that video I have of you on every porn site I can find. Your
cum-glazed face will be famous. I assume you don't want that, so keep your
mouth shut when it's not stuffed with my cock."


"Of course sir. I'd never tell anyone about this."


"Good faggot. I think we'll have some fun. Or at least I will."


He smirked at me and yanked my mouth open again. Leaning down, Carson
hocked up a huge loogie and slowly let it fall into my open mouth. I could
taste his spit, minty from the gum, as it slid down my tongue.


"Swallow." I did. "Good boy. I can see you'll be obedient."


He stepped forward and pulled his sweats and underwear down. Suddenly I was
faced with the object of my desire. His cock, although soft, was still full
and beautiful, probably about 5 inches long even flaccid. He gave it a few
strokes.


"I beat off when I woke up so I don't need to nut now. But you can help
another way. Open up."


Unsure what he meant, I opened my mouth and waited. He put the tip of his
dick on my lower lip and closed his eyes. For a few seconds we just waited,
nothing happening. Then Carson opened his eyes and let out a satisfied
sigh. Suddenly, warm liquid filled my mouth. He was pissing in my mouth!


"Swallow, bitch. And don't spill a drop."


Panicking, I closed my lips around his dickhead and quickly began to
swallow as my mouth filled up. If you've never tasted piss before, as I
hadn't until that moment, you'll find that it doesn't usually taste nearly
as pungent as it smells. It's acrid, bitter, but mostly pretty mild. After
I got over the surprise of being turned into a urinal, I focused on
swallowing Carson's piss load. I could tell this was something of a test of
how far I was willing to go, and while I was grossed out I was also
determined not to fail. And incredibly turned on. He must have really had
to go, because it lasted a while, and by the end I was feeling full and a
little queasy. His stream died down, and once it was done he shook the last
few drops onto my face, all the while giving me that cocky smirk that made
my knees weak.


"I thought you'd be a good faggot. Glad to see I was right."


With that, Carson pulled up his pants, hocked another loogie in my face,
and left.


I quickly stood up, locked the stall door, whipped out my own rock hard
dick, and jerked it a few times until I came hard into the toilet, the
smell of my master's musk on my face and the taste of his piss on my
tongue. This was going to be fun.


TO BE CONTINUED...


***


UP NEXT: Teddy begins to learn what it means to serve Carson...


***


Thanks for reading! I have no idea how many chapters this will go. I've
already written ~9 and counting. I'll be posting one each week. It's only
going to get kinkier from here...


If you enjoyed the story, have feedback, or have ideas for future chapters,
I'd love to hear from you: elliottpatterson02@gmail.com