Date: Wed, 22 Jul 2015 18:44:54 +0000 (UTC)
From: Charlie <cosmic709@yahoo.com>
Subject: Pounded

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----------------------------------------
Pounded
C. Charlie - cosmic709@yahoo.com
cceroticstories.blogspot.com
charliessmut.tumblr.com
---------------------------------------

Note: This is a true story (as best as I remember it). There won't be a
follow up or anything. I'd been shooting emails back and forth with another
author (Ryan Rizzler – Check out A Top's Transformation in the
Authoritative section) and I remembered this night. Figured it would be fun
to write up. Enjoy.

It was late and we'd been partying most of the night. My buddies and I had
put together the most epic flippy-cup team of all time, and we'd clobbered
almost everyone at the party. The only downside to our reign of terror was
that we had to play again and again and again. Now, deep into the night, we
were all drunk. Worse, our long run of victories was making us cocky.

I slammed another beer. The crowd was thinning out, and I still hadn't
found a guy to take back to my room. That was the problem with hanging out
with my fraternity brothers. For a gay guy, it was often slim pickings when
it came to getting laid. Unless I went out of my way to get some dick,
which I hadn't done that night, I often ended up alone.

 In my college days, I wasn't exactly an angry drunk, but I was known for
being a little cocky and a little defensive. I didn't fight much, but it
wasn't unheard of. That night, I was holding myself together pretty well,
but I was getting aggressive.

A new group of guys walked up and challenged my team to another round. We
accepted, of course, and a part of me hoped we would lose. I was sick to
death of flipping those fucking cups and wanted nothing more than to
collapse into a chair and drink myself stupid.

The other team consisted of some guys I knew from a rental house down the
street. They were sort of skeezy, skater types. One was super hot –
blond and muscular with a thin build. I'd tried to get with him a couple of
times, but I apparently he was actually straight and not just
pretending. As we lined up, I let him know that my offers, all of them,
were still on the table. He rolled his eyes at me.

I was standing across from a guy I hadn't seen before. He was tall and a
little thick. He had broad shoulders, a trim waist, and thick arms and
legs. He wasn't cut and had a little bit of a beer belly. His brown hair
was trimmed short and he was wearing a ball cap. He talked like a hick, and
I guessed he was a brother or relative visiting one of the other guys. He
just didn't look like a college student. As I stared him down, my dick
started to stir. He looked like he'd just walked off the farm or come from
some blue collar job. I was slobbering as he took his spot across from me.

Guys know when you're checking him out, and I was seriously oggling this
guy. I wasn't even trying to hide it. He smiled at me with a crooked grin
that meant, "I know you think I'm hot." It wasn't flirtatious. In fact, he
was probably trying to throw off my game.

There was a lot of banter going on, and we were all ribbing the other
guys. I was doing more than my fair share, and I directed most of it at the
hick across the table. In my mind, it was vaguely flirtatious and funny. In
reality, I was probably coming across as a drunk asshole.

The game started and my team won the first round. It wasn't even close. We
played a few more and eventually the other team conceded the victory. As we
continued to play and then afterward, I kept laying into this guy. He
stayed quiet for the most part, but I was definitely getting under his
skin.

I don't remember what I said, but suddenly he lunged at me. I smiled a
goofy smile and said something like, "You wanna fight dude?" I smiled to
let him know that I was fucking around and not serious. He smiled back and
then came at me again.

There was a quick tussle. We kicked up some dirt and pushed each other
around. I couldn't keep my balance, and I still wasn't sure if we were
really fighting or just play fighting. He pushed his whole weight into me,
he probably had me by twenty pounds, and I went down to the ground with him
on top. He straddled one of my thighs and pushed down on the back of my
head, rubbing my face into the dirt.

I was drunk, a little high, and a guy I'd been eye-fucking all night was on
top of me. He smelled like beer and chew with a little bit of sweat mixed
in. Total redneck, I thought, as my hard dick pressed into the ground.

I felt his hot breath on the back of my neck, and then he stood up. I
flipped over, and he held his hand out. I grabbed it and let him pull me
up. "You needed that you cocky bastard," he said as I got to my feet. I
muttered something as we both brushed the dirt off of our jeans. I tried to
adjust my dick without him noticing, but he caught me. I looked at him and
sort of shrugged, as if to say, "We're both guys, this sort of thing
happens." He didn't say anything. Instead, he pulled out a tin of Skoal and
smiled real wide.

He walked toward me, glancing around a bit. Everyone had cleared out by
that point. He got close enough that I could smell him again and feel the
heat of his body.

"I turn you on, don't I?" he said. There was a little bit of a laugh in his
voice, almost like he was making fun of me.

"I guess." I said, trying to play it cool, "You blame me?"

He smiled again. Even though he wasn't the hottest guy I'd ever seen, not
even close, he was the sort of guy who exuded self confidence. He glanced
down at his body. Then he looked me straight in the eyes.

"Bet you want me to fuck you," he said flatly.

I don't get fucked much. At that point, I'd only given it up to three or
four guys. Two were fairly serious boyfriends and one was an older guy, in
his forties, that I messed around with. Anyway, I didn't get fucked very
often. It took a certain kind of guy to make me want to do it. I'm not hung
up on being an Alpha or dom or anything like that, it's just that I only
get into bottoming with a guy who is a little more aggressive and a little
bigger than me.

This dude was exactly that kind of guy.

I smiled my best smile (which was probably crooked as hell given how much
I'd drank) and said yes.

He spit out his chew and then walked back toward the house. I followed him,
unsure if he was leaving or what. The dude was a man of few words. When we
were both in the kitchen he stopped. "You got a room?" he asked.

I was sort of blown away. I lived in a fraternity, with lots of straight
guys, and the "straight-guy-just-wants-to-get-off" thing rarely
happened. I'd fooled around with a couple of my frat brothers, but that was
the exception rather than the rule. Now I had this all American guy who
seemed pretty straight asking me where my bedroom was. Even better, he
looked sexier in the light. His face was angular and lean and he had a
little bit of a shadow on his cheeks.

I nodded, took a step toward him, and tried to kiss him. He stepped
away. "Let's just go to your room, ok?"

I walked him through the house and to the stairs. As I walked upstairs he
grabbed my ass and said, "I'm going to tear you up, dude." One of my
buddies was coming down the stairs, and he winked at me.  Then I opened the
door to my room, let him walk in, and closed the door behind us.

I tried to kiss him again, and he dodged me. I love making out, even when
I'm with randoms, kissing is like my favorite think to do. As he stepped
back he said, "This isn't that kind of thing."

"What kind of thing is it then?" I asked as flirtatiously as possible.

"The kind of thing where I fuck you," he said with a big grin.

Fuck he had a nice smile. Maybe because everything else about him was kind
of rough, I didn't really expect him to have this friendly, sexy side. But
when he smiled, he smiled with his whole face and put me at ease.

"Well, fuck me then." I said.

He grabbed onto my shoulders and tossed me onto the bed, face down. This
alone set him apart from nearly all the guys I'd been with. I'm 5'11" and
at the time I was a muscular 180 lbs. There weren't a lot of guys who just
threw me onto the bed like this.

I made to turn over, but he took one of my feet into his hand and pulled my
shoes off one by one. Then he started to yank at my jeans. I was wearing a
decently tight pair of 501s, and I think he would have torn my legs off
before they just came off on their own. I flipped over and reached for my
fly to open them. He pushed my hands out of the way and pulled at my
fly. He didn't realize that the were buttoned, so he yanked a few times
before literally tearing my jeans open. I heard one of the buttons bounce
across the floor as he pulled my jeans down my legs.

I wasn't wearing any boxers, like usual, and my dick smacked up against my
stomach. This guy paid almost no attention to me as he opened up his fly
and pulled out his dick. His cock was thick, uncut, and about seven and a
half inches long. It was big, real life big if not porn star big. I was a
little worried about taking it, but I was too turned on to have any second
thoughts.

He reached into his pocked and pulled out a condom. He still hadn't taken
his clothes off. He turned his hat around backwards, which was apparently
all it took to get him into the mood. I wanted to strip him down, lick him,
rub his muscles, and taste him. He ripped open the condom wrapper and
started to slip it onto his dick, he looked up at me and said, "You got any
lube?"

"On my dresser. No foreplay?" I said, a little nervously.

"Just fucking." he said with a wicked grin. "You've done this before
right?"

The way he asked the question, I could tell that I wasn't the first guy
that he'd ever fucked. I could also tell that he wasn't looking for
something serious or for a guy that he'd need to be gentle with. He really
was all business.

"Yeah." I said.

"Good." he said. He grabbed onto my ankles and twisted. I rolled onto my
stomach. His jeans were still around his knees and he was still wearing his
t-shirt when he climbed on top of me. I raised up onto my hands and knees
as he lined his cock up with my asshole. Then he grabbed my shoulder and
squeezed a few times.

"Here it comes, dude." he said. "You ready."

I nodded and took a little bit of the bedspread into my mouth. I didn't
want to yell out, just in case someone else in the house was listening. The
guys sometimes ribbed me when I was getting laid, especially if they were
drunked up, and I didn't want them banging on the door and catcalling.

He pushed into me. There was some resistance at first, but I was pretty
relaxed from the booze and dead set on making this happen. He put a little
more pressure on me and then popped in. "Fuck," I groaned as he stretched
me out. He was wider than anyone I'd taken before, and I felt the awesome
mix of pleasure and pain that comes from feeling a little stretched out and
totally full.

He humped me quickly, with long deep thrusts. His hands were on either side
of me and he was holding his chest up and away from my back. I turned to
look up at him, and his tongue was hanging out of his mouth like a fucking
dog. He was panting as he drilled me, practically drooling as he tried to
get his nut. I reached up and tried to grab at his neck, my last chance to
get him to kiss me. When he figured out what I was up to, he grabbed the
top of my head and pushed me down into the mattress.

"No kissing." he said with a little bit of a laugh in his voice. Then he
grabbed onto my wrists and pinned them above my head. "I told you this was
a fucking thing. That's all."

I'd played rough in the bedroom plenty of times. In fact, it was pretty
much the only way I played. But I'd never felt so completely used by a guy
before. He didn't care at all about whether I was getting off or not. He
was just using me like a sex toy, and all I was to him was something to
stick his dick into. With a different guy it would have felt contrived, but
with this roughneck it was intensely erotic. He wasn't playing, he was
fucking.

He was moving fast, and I just gave myself over to what was happening. I
had a hot guy, a beast of a man, drilling my ass. All I could smell was his
body, beer, and spearmint chew, which was a hell of a turn on for me at the
time. His body might have been a little soft, but he was strong enough to
take control of me and knew how to do it.

He started to groan.  With each thrust he delivered a solid grunt. It was
hot, and it was almost as good as dirty talk. I hate guys who don't do
anything when you're laying into them, who don't make a sound. I like my
sex to sound like sex. As he picked up the pace, my mattress started to
squeak and bang into the wall every so often. That's what I wanted. If
someone was walking by the room tonight, they would know that I was getting
laid.

I flexed my ass and lifted myself up a little bit, trying to get some
leverage so that I could play a little bit of a role in what was
happening. He let me have it, and I propped myself up as he slammed into
me. This guy meant it. He was trying to get off and had absolutely nothing
else in mind. His single-minded pounding was getting to me, and I reached
down and started to play with myself.

Within a minute, maybe two, he picked up the pace and really started to
drill me. Long strokes slammed me back into the bed and caused my headboard
to slam against the wall. Three or four of these deep, gut punching thrusts
later, he grunted and slammed into me one last time.

"Take it." he muttered, "Take my fucking nut."

His legs stiffened against mine and then his ankles turned around and
hooked me around the calves. All of his weight relaxed into my body and
pressed me down against the bed. His muscles flexed on top of me and his
breathing became ragged. The deeper he got into his orgasm, the more his
resistance broke down. His hands were feeling my biceps now, and his mouth
was on my neck. He wasn't really kissing me, but he was dragging his teeth
across my nape and shoulder.

I loved the feeling of the weight of his body. He felt huge on top of
me. He had a big frame and a solid amount of muscle. He pressed me into my
bed as he finished. Then the moment passed.

He stood up and as I looked over my shoulder, he pulled his jeans back
up. He'd never taken his clothes off. The whole encounter had maybe lasted
ten minutes from beginning to end. I could tell that there was no point
asking for his number. He wasn't that kind of guy.

I was still on the bed. The room was spinning a little bit and I was close
to passing out. "See ya," I said with a smile. He grinned back. Then he
reached down into his pants. "Forgot something." He pulled the condom off
his dick and tossed it toward me. It landed with a wet thud on my naked
ass.

When I heard the door close I turned over. I was still hard, and I grabbed
the loaded rubber off the bed. He'd shot a lot of nut. I held it up, and
his load filled the tip. I was drunk, horny, and feeling a little nasty. I
poured his cum onto my hairy chest and rubbed it in. The smell of his nut
filled the air, combining with the smell of him - beer, tobacco, and sweat.

I grabbed onto my dick and pulled at it roughly. I was smelling his cum, it
was all I could think of. My skin was wet and it got cold as his load
started to dry. I kept pulling on my cock until I exploded all over my
chest and pillow. I'm a big shooter, especially when I'm horny, and my
watery load splashed all over me.

When I was done, I took a deep breath, drank down some water, and closed my
eyes to get my bearings. I passed out before I got a chance to clean up,
and when I woke up the next morning, with dried cum all over my chest, I
smiled. Despite the hangover, it was a good night.

--- That's it guys. Never saw him again, but it was the only time in my
life I've been totally taken and used. So, there you go. -Charlie