Date: Thu, 12 Nov 2020 10:05:00 -0500
From: Elliott Patterson <elliottpatterson02@gmail.com>
Subject: On Call Slut for the Frat Bro chapter 6

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.


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elliottpatterson02@gmail.com


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==ON CALL SLUT FOR THE FRAT BRO==



PREVIOUSLY:


I found my way back to my room, and laid on the bed, dejected.


Sure, my body had clearly loved tonight. The hands-free orgasm confirmed
it. I loved being able to touch Carson, to worship him, to please him, and
the way he fucked me was like nothing I'd ever experienced.


But was it worth it? Was it worth the demands, the pain, the public
embarrassment? He'd just fucked me in a truly humiliating fashion, in front
of his roommate, offered me to him like it was nothing, pissed on me in
front of him, and then spent the ride home talking about the girl he was
gonna fuck that night. Was all of that shit worth being able to be with
Carson?


I felt my phone buzz with a text. I opened it.


"Probably a good idea to be lubed up next time."


Yes, I thought. It was worth it, as long as there would always be a next
time.



CHAPTER 6: Finals Stress Relief


Carson didn't make me wait long for next time. A few days later, just as I
was about to fall asleep after jerking off, I heard a key in my lock. The
door opened and shut quickly, and before I knew it his big dick was
pressing against my lips.


Without saying a word, Carson fucked into my throat, my head at an awkward
sideways angle. He gave a few purposeful thrusts but I couldn't open up
like he liked, so I shifted onto my back with my head over the edge.


"Better," he said through gritted teeth, pushing all the way into my
throat. I retched a little, unprepared for the invasion, but that didn't
deter him. Carson kept up a steady pace, dicking my throat. I focused on
breathing through my nose.


Between the dark of the room and the position, I could barely see anything
but his ass and taint in shadow. But in between thrusts I saw that he
hadn't even taken off his hoodie or jacket. Clearly this was meant to be a
quick encounter.


I was glad. I always looked forward to getting Carson's dick, however he
wanted to give it to me, but I'd just cum myself so my enthusiasm level
wasn't terribly high. Plus I was almost asleep. If he wanted to do all the
work, though, I was happy to supply the throat.


The throatfuck only continued for a few more minutes before I felt Carson's
grip on my skull tighten and his dick slide all the way in. With a groan,
he emptied his nuts down my throat, his cock pulsing in my neck. I felt him
ride the wave of his orgasm.


He pulled out and pulled up his pants. I rolled onto my side and propped my
head on an elbow, twisting it to wring out any stiffness.


"Thank you, sir," I said softly.


"Welcome," he replied. I saw him notice something on my desk, and he
reached over and grabbed it.


It was the jockstrap I'd pilfered from his room. Yes, I'd just been
sniffing it earlier while jerking off. Carson held it up in both hands, a
bemused look on his face even in the darkness.


He chuckled. "You fuckin' faggot," he said, smiling. He tossed the jock at
my face and left.


***


Finals were the next week, preceded by a reading period of a few days when
there were no classes. The weekend of winter reading period was known
universally as the only weekend of the year when the frats didn't throw
parties.


I don't mean to brag, but I wasn't worried about my finals. Even in the
honors college, as a freshman I'd had to take mostly intro courses my first
semester. There was a lot of busywork, but the material wasn't
challenging. I needed to study, sure, but I didn't need to cram.


It seemed like everyone else was stressed to the gills. All my friends were
in the library 24/7. Even the few upperclassmen I'd befriended seemed
overwhelmed with work. The weekend was looking dead, and I was putting off
what little I had to do.


So I was pleasantly surprised when Carson texted and told me to keep
Saturday night open.


Just before 9pm on Saturday, he texted again and told me to be downstairs
in 20 minutes. I quickly prepped my ass, pre-lubing it this time, and was
waiting in the lobby when I saw his Jeep pull up. Instead of stopping at
the entrance, he parked in the building's lot, in the shadows next to a
tree.


When I got to Carson's car, I saw that he'd popped the trunk and was
pulling gear out of his hockey bag. He looked like he'd just been at
practice.


"You're not gonna like this bitch," he said, shaking his head
ruefully. "But you're needed at the house, and it's the only way I can get
you in."


He motioned toward the now-empty bag. A hockey bag is basically a huge
duffle. I was confused.


"Get in the bag, dumbass," Carson said, exasperated. "I'm gonna smuggle you
into the house."


For the first time in our--I was going to say relationship but it's
certainly not that; arrangement perhaps?--I hesitated. This was beyond
weird. Was I really gonna go through with this?


"C'mon," he said again, throwing an arm around my shoulders, clapping me on
the chest. "It'll be like 10 minutes and then you'll get all the dick your
little heart desires."


The feeling of his strong arm around my shoulders, and the heat of his
body, melted whatever resistance I may have felt. This man was like a drug
to me: I would have done anything for him. I climbed awkwardly into the
trunk and slid my feet and legs into the bag. I had to get into a fetal
position to fit my head in the other end. Carson zipped up the end by my
feet to see if I'd fit, but left the end by my head open. He seemed
satisfied and slammed the trunk.


The ride to Delta was bumpy and uncomfortable. I felt like I was being
kidnapped, and not in a sexy way. Thankfully, the trunk of Carson's Jeep
was open to the rest of the car, so I wasn't in complete darkness. The
smell of the bag, however, was truly rancid. I loved Carson's sweat, but
this was sour and stale, a buildup of God-knows how many months or years of
dirty hockey gear. I wondered if he'd ever cleaned it.


We parked. Carson hopped out and popped the trunk. I could see we were in
the lot next to Delta house, again in a dark corner.


Carson looked down at me, seemingly amused by the predicament he'd put me
in.


"You can't move or make a sound, got it?"


I nodded. He looked skeptical, and reached behind my head for something.


"This oughta keep you quiet," he said, holding up a dirty jockstrap. "I
know you like these."


I opened my mouth and he stuffed it in, gagging me. The taste was salty,
from the sweat and piss and who knows what else was permeating the
jock. But unlike the bag this turned me on, and I felt my dick stiffen.


Carson zipped the bag and I was plunged into darkness. I felt myself being
lifted, and then awkwardly yanked up, presumably as Carson was hiking the
strap over his shoulder. He slammed the trunk and then carried me up a set
of stairs and into the side door of the huge frat house.


If I'd thought the ride over was uncomfortable, this was something else
entirely. Every step Carson took I swung away and then smacked lightly into
what I think was his hip. I was grateful to be gagged--without the jock in
my mouth, I probably wouldn't have been able to help crying out.


I heard the door open and shut and felt a rush of warmth as we got into the
house. We walked down a hallway and then I heard voices, Delta brothers in
their element.


"Yo!" a deep voice said.


"Sup Tuck?" Carson replied.


"Madden later?"


"Maybe. I'll find you," he said as we began to climb the stairs. With each
step up, another swing against him. We reached a landing, and then another
set of stairs. I heard a door open and close, and then felt myself placed,
gently enough, on the ground.


The zipper opened with a whiz. My eyes took a moment to adjust to the light
as I awkwardly sat up. I realized where I was.


"Hey faggot!" Jake Thorn said cheerfully.


***


He was sitting at his desk, in a grey t-shirt and a pair of lacrosse shorts
in our school colors. His hair was pristine as ever, but the usually
perfect 5 o'clock shadow on his face had aged closer to a midnight
beard. And he was wearing glasses. Superman had turned back into Clark
Kent.


"Any trouble getting him in?" Jake asked Carson.


"Nah," he replied. "He knows his place. Anyway, I gotta study."


They bumped fists and Carson, calling out an "enjoy!" over his shoulder
that probably wasn't meant for me, left the room. Jake got up, padded
barefoot to the door, and clicked the lock. I was still half in the hockey
bag, so I got to my knees and stretched the cramps from my body, waiting. I
knew Jake liked to give orders.


He stretched his own arms sleepily and cracked his neck. I saw a hint of
his hairy stomach when his t-shirt lifted up. It looked like he was
free-balling. The bulge in his shorts made me hungry.


"Finals are killing me this semester, and Jenny's on the fucking rag. A
shitstorm of timing." He gave me an evil grin. "Lucky you."


"Yes sir!" I replied.


"Under the desk, boy," Jake said, unceremoniously dropping his shorts. His
uncut cock hung soft and heavy. "I'm not done with this paper. Let's
multitask."


Yet again I found myself in a compromising position, crawling under Jake
Thorn's desk in Delta house so I could blow him while he worked on a
paper. Once I was in position, he sat back down in his chair and began
typing away. He didn't say anything. He didn't need to.


It was cramped as fuck down there. I basically had to sit against the wall
and turn my body to his crotch. A strong, manly scent came off Jake. I
reached for his heavy dick and lifted it off his nuts. His dick felt a
little slimy, and when I pulled back his foreskin I was greeted with a
whiff of intensely ripe dick sweat.


"Sorry bitch," he said, chuckling. "Haven't showered today."


Dinner was served. I took his head in my mouth and tasted him. The flavor
was so intense, ripe and raunchy. I loved it. I began to suck on Jake's big
dick, feeling him grow in my mouth. It was hot and stuffy under his
desk. My nose was filled with his funky scent. My own dick had grown hard
in my pants.


As he grew to full mast, I gave Jake's balls a tongue bath while stroking
him. When I returned my mouth to his cock, I discovered I had a
problem. There wasn't enough clearance under the desk for me to get my head
over his length. I realized that, if I could even get his cock in my
throat, it would have to stay there the whole time.


I tilted his dick down and aimed it at my mouth. I plunged myself onto his
cock while at the same time scooping my head up and over it. I ended up
with his cock down my throat, my nose in his dark pubes, and only a few
inches of clearance above my head.


"Good boy," I heard him mutter above me.


It was a good thing I'd had so much practice over the past couple of
months. At the beginning of the semester, I probably wouldn't have been
able to throat Jake's dick. Now I was doing gymnastics with it.


I let him linger in my throat for a few seconds, making sure I could
breathe through my nose, and then I began a shallow throat fuck. I could
only move up and down his shaft maybe 3 inches, so it really was a
throat-only fuck. Sensing I was in this position for the long haul, I
steeled myself and set to work.


Without free range to move, I did what I could to vary up my speed,
distance, and pressure. I gave Jake's dick quick little up and down strokes
as well as slower, more deliberate ones. I paused occasionally at the
bottom and let him fill my throat, licking at his balls. I fondled and
pulled on his nuts. Drool dripped down out of my mouth onto them.


This went on for some time, as Jake continued to type. Occasionally he
would adjust his position in his seat, during which times I'd brace myself
so as not to get choked, but for the most part he let me throat his cock
for a good 10 or 15 minutes.


Then he rolled his desk chair away abruptly, pulling himself out of my
throat. I took in a huge gasp of air, finally able to breathe for real.


Jake walked over to his armchair, dick glistening with spit and hard as
iron. He slouched down in the chair, legs spread wide, and pointed at his
rod.


"Ride," he said.


I climbed out from under his desk, my knees cracking as I stood up, and
dropped my pants. I walked over to Jake and, facing away from him, I pushed
the ottoman out of the way, reached behind me and guided his cock to my
hole.


For once, I was feeling confident about taking a fuck from one of these
studs. In my dorm, I'd done my bottom due diligence: a thorough clean-out
followed by a little self-play as I applied lube. I'd bought a butt plug
online--nothing that would stretch me out much, just something to help with
the feeling--and put it in from time to time to keep myself in fighting
shape.


So when I positioned Jake Thorn's hammer against my entrance, I wasn't
scared. I held him in one hand as I began to sit down, and once I felt the
head of his cock pop in, I put both hands on my knees, and impaled my ass
onto his dick.


He slid in smoothly. I was going to say "easily," but this was still Jake's
dick, thick as fuck, so I felt every inch. But I was able to take it all in
one deliberate motion, soon finding myself ass to pelvis, 8+ thick inches
of Delta cock rearranging my insides. It felt amazing to be so full.


I peeked behind me. Jake had pulled his shirt up (probably to avoid any
lube stains: always fastidious) and his hairy abs rippled under me. He had
a look on his face of lazy satisfaction, like a man getting exactly what he
deserved. We briefly made eye contact, and he raised his eyebrows as if to
say, without needing to say it: get to work.


So I did.


It wasn't the easiest position to be in, but I found that I could do a
small squat up and down, twerking and effectively milking his cock with my
ass.


Up and down I went, my asshole sliding around his giant shaft, his head
hitting my prostate on each down stroke. It felt amazing. I grunted lightly
each time, reveling in the waves of pleasure washing over me. This was the
first time I'd been fucked (ever, I realized) when I'd been in control.


Of course it wasn't to last. This was apex alpha Jake Thorn we're talking
about. After a few minutes of fucking myself onto him, Jake grabbed me by
the hips, cock still deep inside me, and pushed me forward onto the
floor. I fell to my hands and knees and he began a vigorous doggystyle
fuck.


Jake was never the most vocal during sex, his emanations limited mostly to
grunts and the occasional "fuck." He had his hands on my shoulders, pulling
me into a position where my back was arched, getting maximum leverage to
get as deep as possible. The sounds of his hips slapping against my ass
filled the room as he ravaged me.


He pushed my face into the floor, like Carson had in the hockey showers the
weekend prior. I saw his foot come up by my face, and for a second thought
Carson must have filled his big bro in on the fuck he gave me, but
thankfully it remained on the ground. Jake gripped my hips tight and began
punch-fucking me, bringing his rod all the way out before slamming it back
in.


I was moaning like a bitch into the carpet. In a moment of inspiration, I
turned my head to his foot and began to kiss and lick it. I knew it would
add to the power trip, and sure enough, within a few thrusts, Jake was
ready to breed me.


"FUUUUUUCK," he called out through his last few strokes as he creamed my
ass.


He stopped deep inside me, leaning over and panting heavily. I could feel
the last few pulses of his dick in my ass. He lingered a few seconds and
then pulled out.


I pushed myself back up onto my knees and turned around. Jake was standing
there in his full post-nut glory, hands behind his head, manly armpits
exposed, still breathing heavy. I looked at his dick, shiny with cum and
ass juices, and he nodded. I took it in my mouth and cleaned him off
gently.


Satisfied, Jake slipped out of my mouth and ruffled my hair.


"Good job, boy," he said. "Conway was right about you."


I beamed. "Thank you, sir!"


I can't really describe how happy this validation made me. The sexual
satisfaction aside, to have these absolute gods appreciate me in any way,
even as I let them do unspeakable things to me, felt incredible. I'd never
had an older brother, but I imagined in a perverse way that this was what
it felt like to make him proud.


Jake pulled on his shorts and sat back down at the desk, phone in hand. I
heard texts going back and forth, and then he closed his laptop and hugged
it to his chest.


"You got another customer coming up, kiddo," he said as he got up.


I heard a knock at the door. Jake walked over and unlocked it. The door
opened, and I expected Carson to walk in.


But it wasn't Carson.


It was Matt.


***


"Wassup man?" he greeted Jake. They gave each other the bro handshake/chest
bump.


"Just finals bro," Jake replied. "Can't wait to be done with this shit."


"I hear that. Organic chem is KILLING me. Need some release. Thanks for the
room, man." Matt said, his hands forming two guns in a gesture of
appreciation.


"No prob. Just keep it off the sheets."


"You got it, bro."


Jake left and Matt locked the door. He was wearing grey sweats again and a
white wife beater. It highlighted his musculature, hugging in all the right
places. And his package certainly looked...full.


"What up, BITCH?" he said, a huge grin spread across his face. "You ready
for some chocolate after all this vanilla?"


He grabbed himself through his sweats. I nodded. I could tell it was an
ample handful. I felt my cock stir.


Either Matt noticed, or it was already on his mind, because he pointed at
my crotch and scrunched up his nose.


"You can put some undies back on, man. I don't need to see your lil
pecker."


"Sorry sir," I said, quickly finding my boxer briefs and sliding them on,
embarrassed.


Matt sat down in the same chair where I'd rode Jake's cock just a few
minutes earlier, legs spread wide, powerful. The bulge in his sweats seemed
to be growing. I thought I could make out the head of his cock through the
thin material. These guys all got off on showmanship.


"None of this 'sir' shit," he said, still grinning, pronouncing "sir" with
an exaggeratedly white accent. "Why don't you call me...MASTER?"


"Yes, master," I said softly.


He laughed. I crawled in front of him and waited between his legs. Matt
regarded me for a long second and then indicated his crotch.


"What? I gotta ask for it?"


"Sorry, master," I said, reaching for his waistband. As I pulled down his
sweats and underwear in one motion, Matt flipped the front of his tank over
his head, keeping the rest on.


My jaw dropped.


There's a lot to cover here. (Literally.) Let's start at the top and work
our way down.


If I'd thought Carson's upper body was perfect, Matt's was altogether
something else. He had his hands behind his head, armpits exposed. The
muscles of his biceps looked like softballs stuffed into socks. His pecs
were huge and blocky, separated (barely) by a small nest of curly black
hair in the middle. The hair continued down to his abs, which looked like
they were cut from marble. Between his 8-pack, obliques, and cum gutters, I
couldn't even count how many abs there were. To describe him as "cut"
wouldn't begin to cover it.


Then there was his dick.


Now, to be fair, I'd never been with a black guy before. And I know the
stereotype of the BBC, true or not, is a pernicious myth that dehumanizes
black men in America. That said, this was, without question, a big black
cock.


It was about half hard, easily 7 or 8 inches already, and a unique
shape. First, it curved pretty clearly to the right. I wondered if that was
natural or a result of Matt being a righty when it came to choking the
chicken. Second, it was bulbous. It widened gradually as it got further
from the base, reaching pick thickness an inch or so just below the
head. He had a prominent ridge but the head tapered off.


I reached for Matt's massive schlong, feeling his weight in my hand. I
brought it to my lips and took his head in my mouth, swirling it with my
tongue. Matt gave a small satisfied sigh. I began to bob, taking more and
more into my mouth. I knew I'd have to work up to the whole thing, it was
so big.


As I worked more and more of his cock into my mouth, Matt was talkative. He
seemed like an amiable guy, more low key than the other Deltas I'd
serviced.


"Yeah, that's good. Suck on that big dick, bitch. Fuuuuck. You got them
good lips. You like that? This dick's usually reserved for the ladies but I
ain't been able to make anything happen this weekend, and a hole's a hole,
you know? Conway's been talking up this mouth for weeks, so I figured why
not bruh? Yeah, pull on my balls."


I gave Matt a pretty standard blowjob, eventually getting my lips to his
base. He mostly played on his phone, but when I started deep throating his
cock he squinted at me and pursed his lips in appreciation.


"Woooooo boy! No white chick has ever taken me that deep. Keep that up and
I'ma nut soon."


I was used to being in a more passive role, but it was a nice change of
pace to just give head, rather than having my face fucked. Matt's dick was
delicious, and a novelty for me, so I relished the opportunity to show off
my skills and enjoyed his displays of appreciation. Eventually, his dick
slippery with my spit and his precum, I added a hand, jerking him off and
twisting at the head as I continued to suck.


That seemed to do it. After a few strokes, I felt him start to tense up. He
grunted "bout to nut" and stood up, taking his dick in his hand and
blasting a huge load of sticky white cum all over my face. I shut my eyes
just in time--a decent amount of the load landed directly on my left
eyelid.


I kept my eyes closed for a few more seconds, until I heard a camera click,
and then a giggle.


"Check it," Matt said, showing me his phone screen and cracking himself
up. He was on Snapchat, sending a pic to Carson. It showed me glazed in a
thick coat of splooge with the caption "made ur boi a toaster strudel" and
a laughing/crying emoji.


"Good work, bitch," he said as he pulled up his sweats. "Might have to take
another shot at that mouth sometime." He left the room, throwing up a peace
sign over his shoulder. I didn't even have time to thank him.


I heard my phone buzz. Finding it in my pants pocket on the floor, I opened
it to find a text from Carson:


"Don't touch your face."


Sighing, I waited, knowing I wasn't done yet.


A few minutes later, he came barreling through the door, looking charged
with energy. He came over to me and grabbed me by the chin, examining my
face.


"Crawl to the bathroom, faggot," he said sternly. "NOW."


I quickly crawled to the bathroom and Carson followed. He pointed at the
toilet.


"Get your face in there."


I opened Jake's toilet, and hesitantly lowered my face into it, hovering
above the surface. Thankfully it had been flushed, and it was pretty
clean. Carson was standing to the side, phone in hand. I heard him start
recording a video. He flopped his big soft dick out over the waistband of
his sweats.


"Now THIS is how you mark your territory," he said to his phone. "Open,
bitch."


I opened my mouth, and his flow began, strong and insistent. His piss hit
my face, the warmth of it shocking me. I had to close my eyes. His stream
traveled around my face, and I realized he was washing Matt's load off of
me in a show of dominance.


A literal pissing contest. These fucking guys.


I didn't really have to do anything besides get urinated on. Sometimes his
stream would hit my mouth but it wasn't really possible to drink at that
angle. And it seemed like the whole thing was for show, anyway.


Carson ran out of piss and the stream died down. I risked opening my eyes,
and saw him stroking his dick, quickly growing to hardness, and I heard the
video replaying on his phone. He had a smug look on his face as he watched
his latest cinematic masterpiece.


I heard the sound of a Snap being sent. Great, I thought, another
compromising video of me out in the world.


Carson set his phone on the sink and stepped out of his pants. He spit on
his cock and continued working himself up to a boner.


Stepping behind me, he said "stay there." He pulled my underwear down, and
I heard him hock another loogie. It hit my ass in a shock of wetness and
slid down my hole. Soon after, I felt the head of his cock tap at my ass. A
hand came to my shoulder, the pressure on my hole increased, and he slid
home.


At this point, I still had Jake's load inside me after a vigorous fuck, so
Carson's dick, big as it was, slipped in with no problem. My face was still
in the toilet as he took me to pound town, but I snuck a glance back and
saw that he was standing and had mounted me, legs spread wide in a modified
squat. He brought both hands to my shoulders and began long-dicking me. It
felt fucking amazing, his huge cock filling me up with Jake's load as lube.


The dicking was great, but I could tell it wouldn't be a long one. Carson
was grunting like a madman and I could feel his sweat dripping onto my
back. The sounds of his pelvis slamming into me with each thrust echoed off
the tile of Jake's bathroom.


With a roar, I felt a hand come to the back of the head and push my face
into the pissy toilet water. Then the toilet flushed and water swirled
around my face as I felt Carson unload rope after rope of his jock god nut
into my ass.


He'd given me a swirlie.


While breeding me.


Christ, Teddy. How low can you go?


I was coughing, half-drowned, having not expected to be plunged into a
toilet. But Carson didn't care--he pulled me up by the neck and pushed my
face into his crotch, expecting to be cleaned off. Still coughing, I took
his still-hard cock in my mouth and tasted the combination of his and
Jake's loads, along with my own ass, yet again.


Once he was certain his dick was clean, Carson let go of my skull and
pulled up his sweats. He looked down at me and smiled an evil smile, happy
to know that even after everything, I would still do anything he said, no
matter how low.


"Dry off and get dressed, I'll be back in a minute to take you home," he
said, grabbing his phone and leaving.


I took a huge wad of toilet paper and dried my face, then went back out to
Jake's bedroom and began to pull on my clothes. Carson returned, winter
coat on, looking annoyed.


"Hurry up, faggot, I gotta get you out of here," he said, holding his
hockey bag open for me. I climbed in and we repeated our earlier hijinks in
reverse.


By the time I stumbled back out of his hockey bag in the parking lot by my
dorm, I was stiff, bruised, used, and exhausted. Carson zipped up his bag
and tossed the jock I'd been gagged with back at me.


"Figured you should have one to go with the one you stole," he said,
grinning. "Which was Matt's, by the way."


He shut the trunk, hopped in the front seat, and drove off before I was
even able to pull my jaw from the floor.


I looked at the jockstrap in my hands, and laughed.


I'd been jerking off half the semester with the dirty underwear of the
wrong dude.


At least now I had the full set.


When I got back to my room, I stripped down and got in bed, too tired for
anything. But then saw I had a text from Carson. It was the video of him
pissing Matt's load off my face.


I reached down to my ass to check, and sure enough, a huge wad of mixed
Delta cum slid out. I laid back, spread it all over my cock, and hit play.


TO BE CONTINUED...


***


UP NEXT: Even home for winter break, Teddy can't escape Carson's control...


***


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