Date: Wed, 14 Oct 2020 17:31:41 -0400
From: Elliott Patterson <elliottpatterson02@gmail.com>
Subject: On Call Slut for the Frat Bro chapter 2

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. 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 in your country or place of
residence, please stop reading immediately.


The response to chapter 1 was incredible, Thank you all for the kind
words. Comments and suggestions are as always highly appreciated, and can
be sent to: elliottpatterson02@gmail.com


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==ON CALL SLUT FOR THE FRAT BRO==



PREVIOUSLY:


"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.



CHAPTER 2: Learning My Place


I was worried after our encounter in the library that Carson wouldn't
actually ever reach out. What would a god like him want with a nerdy faggot
like me? Surely he was just fucking with me.


I couldn't have been more wrong. That very night around 10 I was watching
something on Netflix when I got a text from "Sir" that just said "faggot."


"Yes sir?" I responded immediately.


"Whitman Gym parking lot. Now."


I quickly threw on a jacket and stuffed an extra t-shirt into my pocket,
knowing he liked to get messy. My dick, of course, was at full mast the
moment I saw his text come up.


I walked to the athletic complex and found the parking lot for Whitman,
which was the varsity athletes' private weightlifting gym. The building
seemed closed and there were only a few cars in the dark parking lot. I
texted "here."


An SUV near the back of the parking lot flicked its lights. My phone buzzed
with a text: "Come to my jeep."


I walked to the Jeep and saw Carson sitting in the driver's seat. He
indicated with a nod for me to get in. I opened the passenger's side door
and was immediately assaulted by the scent of sweat.


"Hey faggot," he said, grinning. "Just got a pump in at the gym and that
always gets me horny. Figured I'd start making use of my on-call cockslut."


He was wearing a muscle tee with the sides cut deeply, so I could see most
of his chest and abs for the first time. Carson was even more ripped than
I'd thought, with a clearly visible 8-pack and cum gutters to die for. My
mouth was watering just seeing him.


He pushed his seat all the way back, lifted his hips, and slid his gym
shorts and underwear down to his ankles. His cock wasn't fully hard, but on
its way, and the smell emanating from his crotch was pungent and ripe.


"Start with my balls bitch," he said.


I leaned over and dove into his crotch, lapping at his hairy ballsack. He
clearly trimmed his pubes but left enough hair for it to be matted down
with sweat. The taste was heavenly. I did my best job giving his nuts a
tongue bath while he forced my face into his crotch. As I glanced up to my
left, I could see him on his phone stroking his dick to a full
erection. The sounds of straight porn began to issue from his phone as he
groaned, clearly enjoying the service I was providing.


After a few minutes of worshipping Carson's balls, he pulled me up by my
hair and slammed my mouth right down onto his hard cock, impaling it in my
throat. I sputtered and gagged but he held me down, bucking his hips up and
roughly fucking up into my throat. I did my best to hold on and not puke,
but after it was beginning to get difficult. Thankfully, he wasn't kidding
about being horny as hell: a few thrusts later he grunted "fuck yeah" and
buried himself all the way to the hilt. I felt his cock pulse in my throat
as a torrent of cum streamed into my gullet. With some difficulty, I
breathed through my nose until his orgasm subsided. Finally he let go of my
hair and let me up.


"What do you say?" he panted, still coming down from the high of nutting.


"Thank you sir!" I eagerly said. I could feel my own dick straining inside
my jeans, but I knew I shouldn't touch myself in his presence.


"Good job," he said, ruffling my hair in an almost brotherly way. I beamed.


For a few moments we sat there. Carson's eyes were closed and he had a
satisfied look on his face. I wasn't sure if I was supposed to
leave. Finally, he opened his eyes and started the engine.


"You want a ride home? Where do you live?" he asked.


"Umm, Balland. Lower campus."


"That's the honors dorm right?"


"Yes sir."


"Okay." He pulled out of the parking lot and drove in the direction of my
dorm. A Drake song played on his stereo. We got to a red light and suddenly
he turned to me as though an idea had occurred to him.


"Wait a second. That dorm is all singles right?"


"Yeah..."


"So you don't have a roommate?"


"No sir."


He smiled. "Sounds like I'm gonna need a copy of your room key."


***


A few days later, Carson texted asking for my class schedule. It turned out
he was serious about wanting to know when I was free. And he made me get
him a copy of my key so he could show up whenever he wanted. I never
learned how he got into the building--you had to swipe your ID card--but he
would show up whenever he felt like using me with barely a few minutes
notice.


After midterms, I really became his on-call slut. Sometimes he'd go days
without contacting me. Sometimes I was summoned three times a day. Many of
our encounters were pretty standard and not worth going into too much
detail, just a quick blowjob in his car or in my room. Carson may have
lived in a giant frat house, but he was only a sophomore, so he had a
roommate, making my single a perfect place to get his dick sucked. It also
wasn't lost on me that I was a dirty secret, and knowing that this absolute
stud was sneaking around to use my throat made feel strangely proud. I had
no illusions that he was actually into me--I was expressly forbidden from
touching myself or so much as taking off my clothes when I serviced
him. But I knew that he liked what I did for him, especially because he
kept pushing me further and further.


The weekend after I gave him my room key, I woke at 3am to a series of
texts:


"Faggot u up?"


"Comin to u. Be ready"


"ALMOST THERE BITCH"


Fortunately, not 60 seconds before I heard the lock in my door turn, I was
able to send back a quick "yes sir" to keep my end of our bargain.


Carson staggered in and leaned against the wall of my room, clearly
wasted. He swayed in place, leering at me and smirking. His button down
shirt was almost completely undone, showing off that perfect body.


"Hey, there's my fag. Miss me?" he slurred. He let out a huge burp and
giggled at himself. I could smell the booze on him from across the room. As
always, I walked over and got on my knees in front of him.


"Yes sir. How can I serve you sir?" I stared up at him, trying to be as
meek and submissive as possible. I'd never dealt with a truly drunk Carson
before, and given our previous encounters I suspected he could be a mean
drunk, so I wanted to be prepared for anything.


For a second he just looked down at me, his eyes glazed over, before he
straightened up and pawed at the door. "Bathroom!" he grunted, and knowing
where this was headed I quickly opened the door and guided him down the
hall to the men's room. With not a moment to spare, he ran into the toilet
stall and began puking loudly.


After a few minutes, I heard the toilet flush so I figured he'd gotten it
all out. I knocked on the stall and asked if he needed anything. With a
boyish moan he asked for water and mouthwash. I grabbed both from my room
and hurried back, and when I opened the stall door he was sitting on the
toilet looking drunk as a skunk, but cleared out of his sickness. He gave
me a smile when he saw the supplies and said "good boy!" in an almost
friendly way. He swished with mouthwash before spitting it between his legs
into the toilet bowl, then chugged the whole bottle of water. When he stood
up, I noticed a patch of puke on his bare chest and pointed it out. He
seemed disgusted with himself and began to take off his shirt.


This was my first time seeing Carson, my master, my god, my Adonis, totally
shirtless, and even in his current state it was a sight to behold. He
noticed me admiring him and scoffed, handing me his shirt and muttering
"faggot." He dropped his jeans to the tile floor before stepping out of
them fully naked (I guess Carson parties commando) and walked into the
shower room.


While we may have had single rooms in the honors dorm, our showers were
locker room-style, with 2 circular columns of shower heads in the middle of
the room and no dividers. Except in the middle of the night, you had zero
privacy. If the guys in the dorm had been even remotely as hot as Carson, I
would have loved it.


Now, I gawked. Carson's body, in all its naked glory, was easily the
hottest sight I'd ever seen in real life. The man must have had 5% body fat
max. He was toned, not bulky, but you could see in his muscles a power
waiting to be unleashed. As he let the water run down his body, washing
away the remains of his puke, I openly admired his shape, the curve of his
perky ass, the way his abs seemed to be drawn onto him, the heft of his big
dick hanging over those full balls. I noticed him stroke himself a few
times and looked up to see him watching me, watching him. That signature
half-smile crept across his face, the cocky bastard.


He turned the water off and looked at me, hands on his hips. I wasn't sure
what to do, so I approached and began to get on my knees, but before I
could he slapped me across the face.


"No, bitch. Towel. I'm all wet."


"Yes, sir, sorry." I ran back to my room and grabbed a clean towel from my
closet. I gave him the towel and he dried himself off, dropped the towel on
the soaking wet floor, and walked into the hallway and back to my room buck
naked. I gathered up the towel and his clothes and followed.


I found Carson sprawled across my twin bed. His dick hung heavy over his
hip, and he scratched at his pubes lightly. I knelt in front of him,
awaiting my orders, but his eyes seemed droopier by the second. Thinking I
should take some initiative, I tried to tongue his balls, but he swatted me
away and rolled over, mumbling.


"Forget it faggot, too drunk after all. Wake me up at 10."


I didn't know what to do. Here was Carson Conway, the hottest guy on earth,
who over the past month had made me into his cocksucking slave, and all he
wanted was to pass out in my bed? It didn't make any sense, and yet there
he was, the ass of God facing me, already lightly snoring away.


I was, of course, hard as a rock. I waited until I was dead certain he was
asleep before whipping out my own dick and quickly stroking myself to a
huge orgasm while looking at his sleeping form. I grabbed a dirty sock and
came into it, hard, muffling myself by biting my lip. After cleaning up, I
set my alarm to vibrate at 9:55am, put together a makeshift bed on the
floor out of hoodies and clean towels, and tried to get to pass out.


Did I sleep? It didn't seem like it. Every sound that issued from the bed
above me gave me hope that Carson would wake up and want to stick his dick
in my mouth. But nothing happened. He snored softly, occasionally turning
over in bed. Eventually I must have slept a little, because I woke up to my
phone vibrating under the pile of clothes I was using as a pillow, slowly
piecing together where I was and why.


I stood up quietly and saw that Carson was still there, sleeping
soundly. He'd turned onto his back and thrown off my covers, and like any
red-blooded 19 year old boy, his dick was awake before he was.


Even sleep-deprived, I couldn't ignore that dick. I knew I was taking a
chance, but he'd just said to wake him up, not how, so when my phone showed
10:00, I got on my knees next to my bed and softly slipped Carson's morning
wood into my mouth.


Unlike all of our previous encounters, I knew a wake-up BJ would need to be
gentle, so I slid slowly up and down his length, softly lapping at his
mushroom head with my tongue on the upstrokes, burying my face in his pubes
on the way down. His cock was letting out a constant stream of salty
precum, which I relished licking up. As I was slurping on his cock, I
looked up at Carson's face and saw that he had woken up, his eyes still
hooded and sleepy. When we made eye contact, he smiled slightly and gave me
an approving nod.


With that, I went to work in earnest. I knew his favorite thing was my
throat, so I impaled myself all the way onto his giant dick and
throatfucked myself as hard as I could. He let out an appreciative groan,
and I felt a hand in my hair. For once, he wasn't forcing me, but merely
guiding as he let me manage the pace of the blowjob. With one hand, I held
his nuts in my hand and pulled lightly on them, like I knew he liked. My
other hand roamed over his abs, feeling the taut ridges. I took a chance
and played with one of his pert nipples, and was rewarded with a loud
groan. I could sense his orgasm approaching, and within a few minutes my
ministrations had him pushing my face into his crotch as he bucked his hips
up into me, unloading wave after wave of cum down my throat.


Carson held me down on his cock for a good long while, softening in my
mouth. I tried to pull away but he held firm, whispering "stay" with his
eyes closed. A few seconds later he sighed and began to feed me his morning
piss, which I swallowed down gratefully. It was a huge nasty piss load, but
I had learned to love every second of being his urinal. Once he was done he
batted my face away and stood up. As he stretched his beautiful body, he
let out a loud fart, filling the room with a rank smell. He looked at me
and giggled lewdly, breaking what had until then felt like an intimate
moment between us.


"Thanks for the wake up call, bitch."


TO BE CONTINUED...


***


UP NEXT: Finally brought inside Delta house, Teddy's submission to Carson
gets dialed up another notch...or three...


***


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