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Subject: On Call Slut for the Frat Bro chapter 5 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. I’m loving all the great feedback I’ve been getting from readers. You guys are the best. Comments and suggestions are highly appreciated, and can be sent to: elliottpatterson02@ And as always, if you are able, please consider making a gift to the Nifty Archive: fty/donate.html ==ON CALL SLUT FOR THE FRAT BRO== PREVIOUSLY: Carson pulled in front of Balland and put the car in park. He looked over at me, a coy look on his face. “You alright?” he asked. I could have melted at the question, even as his concern was so casual. My frat god, caring about me, even a tiny bit, after putting me through a day and night of heaven and hell. “Yes sir,” I whispered, suddenly feeling very shy. “Cool,” he replied, putting the car back in gear. I hopped out, and before I slammed the door steeled myself and asked when I would see him again. A half smile crept over his face. “Soon, bitch,” he said. “If you’re lucky.” CHAPTER 5: Most Valuable Penis It wasn’t soon enough for me. After my marathon session of sex and abuse at the hands of Carson and his frat brother Jake, the president of Delta, I didn’t get a text from “Sir” for almost a week. And it drove me absolutely fucking nuts. You’d think I would have been satisfied for a little while. I’d had my holes fucked and stretched, used and abused, plugged, filled, loaded up. My every fantasy and so much I’d never imagined I’d like. I’d been spit-roasted, had four loads pumped into me, piss in both ends, a hands-free orgasm, and somehow managed to fit an insanely huge butt plug into my ass with only spit as lube. I’d been spanked to within an inch of my life with a frat paddle. And I’d loved almost every minute of it. But still it wasn’t enough. My transformation into a bottom pig for dominant frat studs was complete. After Carson dropped me off that Sunday morning, I fell right back asleep, but woke up a few hours later horny as ever. I edged forever, the stolen jockstrap over my face, watching first FraternityX videos and then going deeper and darker on PornHub, constantly checking my texts in case Carson wanted to use me again. Silence. The week passed in a similar fashion. I went to class, did my reading and my assignments, ate meals with friends, but in the background was a constant, insatiable desire for Carson. It was so much worse than when I didn’t know who he was. Now, cursed with the knowledge that he could give me exactly what I needed, what I didn’t even *know* I’d needed, and not being able to have it: I was a total mess. Every time I walked through campus, I had an eye out for him. At the gym, I circled the athletic complex, hoping to see his car in the parking lot. I checked my phone incessantly, tempted beyond measure to text him, held back only by the horrific thought that he’d follow through on his threat to abandon me if I ever texted first. Thursday afternoon, I met with my academic advisor in the student center to pick a class schedule for next semester. Afterward, I passed by one of the lounges and stopped in my tracks. Sitting on a couch, legs spread wide and looking like an emperor on his throne, was Jake Thorn. I probably started drooling. He was dressed in his usual preppy getup, dark jeans and a light blue button-down, the little polo player visible across the room. A backwards white cap sat on his head, hair perfectly framed above the backstrap. On his lap sat a truly stunning blonde girl, presumably the aforementioned Jenny, chattering on. As I slowly walked by, trying not to stare, Jake’s gaze met mine for one tiny second, his eyes intense, seeing right into me. Then he turned back to his girlfriend and replied to whatever she was saying with a wry smile. The spell broke. I hurried to the nearest bathroom, found an empty stall, and quietly jerked myself off yet again, remembering how the look I’d just seen was the same look he’d given me right before he started pissing in my open asshole. These guys were gonna be the death of me. I finally heard from Carson on Saturday morning. Enough time had passed that I’d finally stopped hoping it was him every time I got a text, but when I saw “Sir” pop up on my phone, all self-control went out the window. His message was characteristically to the point: “Be at my game tonight.” You know I had the hockey team’s schedule up on my laptop in seconds. I saw that it started at 6, giving me plenty of time to prep. I didn’t know what Carson had in store for me, if anything. In the short time I’d been under his thumb, last weekend’s fuckfest notwithstanding, most of our encounters had been quick blowjobs. Still, I had taken Jake’s words from his bathroom to heart and made sure to be as prepared as possible to get fucked at any time. Monday morning, in between classes, I’d gone to CVS to buy fiber pills, lube, and, most embarrassingly, a 6-pack of Fleet enemas. I added a bunch of snack food to try to make it less obvious, but the cashier clearly saw through me, a knowing smile on her face as ankara yabancı escort she asked if I had a Rewards card. I carried one of the enemas with me in my backpack wherever I went, hiding it in a pencil case. Every time I looked in my backpack for something I’d notice the case, hiding my secret, and think about how much I was in thrall to this guy, how I was willing to do practically anything for him. It was a complicated feeling, but there was no denying my desires, dark as they were. The rest of Saturday afternoon crawled by. I couldn’t focus on anything. I jerked off but didn’t cum, the anticipation too hot to abandon. At 5, I did my business, making sure I was clean as a whistle. By the time I got to the university’s ice rink, at the far end of the massive athletic complex, it was almost 6 o’clock. The crowd was pretty big–not sold out by any means for this regular season game, but big enough that after I bought my ticket I had to climb almost all the way to the top of the bleachers to find a seat on the home side. I can’t pretend to know anything about hockey, but of course I’d looked up Carson on the team’s website. He wore number 84 and played right wing. I learned that meant he was primarily an offensive player, not surprising given his general demeanor. I spotted him by number in the team’s box down below. He had his helmet on, ready for the face off. Still, even in uniform and pads, something about the way 84 sat on the bench exuded dominance. The game itself was pretty exciting, even though I had no idea what was going on most of the time. I only had eyes for Carson. The way he moved across the ice was incredible, whiplike and graceful. He played almost the whole game, scoring two of the team’s 3 goals. In the 3rd period, he took a hard check and got pissed, shoving the other player. A small fight broke out and Carson ended up on the penalty box, shouting at the ref, his face red, hair matted with sweat. He looked so hot, I could barely stand it. We won, and as the guys took the ice one last time to shake hands with the other team, Carson looked triumphant. He chatted comradely with a guy I recognized as his roommate Matt, each enjoying the afterglow of their victory. The crowd thinned out, and I lingered, unsure. 15 minutes passed. The lobby was nearly empty, save a few friends and relatives milling around waiting for their players. Was I supposed to wait for Carson? Did he even want me tonight, or was I just expected to attend his games? There had been others already that he didn’t mention. I knew I wasn’t his boyfriend or anything, but the uncertainty of the moment had my anxiety (and libido) through the roof. The opposing team filed out, looking a little dejected. I noticed that there was no shortage of studs among them. Eventually, there was no one else in the lobby. Even the Zamboni had finished its work on the ice. I was getting ready to leave, but when I turned around, I saw Matt walking toward me. He was wearing a North Face parka over a hoodie with the Delta letters on it, lugging a huge hockey bag. Of course he had on the traditional frat boy grey sweatpants; it was like they had to show off their dicks at all times. “Yo, are you Teddy?” he asked, clearly noticing me checking out his package. “Yeah…” I replied warily. “What’s up?” “Hey man, I’m Matt.” He extended a huge hand to shake. His grip was vice-tight and he gave me a smile, his teeth blindingly white against his skin. “Carson’s asking for you in the locker room.” He indicated a set of doors, then shoved his hands into his jacket pockets and walked away, calling a “later!” over his shoulder. I could have sworn I heard him whisper “bitch” under his breath. Did Carson tell his roommate about me? He clearly knew who I was. It wouldn’t surprise me: he’d already loaned me out to one frat brother. A little sharing between buddies was one thing, but outing me as a submissive bitch to an entire fraternity was a frightening thought. Surely not all of them were as open-minded sexually as Carson and Jake. These thoughts passed through my head as I wandered into the empty varsity locker room. It was spacious, with big open cubbies rather than lockers, like a professional sports team, but much grimier. It smelled manly, like sweat and metal. Being in this private space, where men could be men at their most visceral, felt intrusive but also deeply sexy. “Carson?” I called out, hesitant. I didn’t see him anywhere. “In here,” I heard his voice say. I followed the sound and found him in a small warm-up room, foam-rolling his back on a mat. He’d removed most of his pads but still had on a tight Under Armour top and his thick hockey pants. His shirt was soaked with sweat, his face still flushed. “Sup bitch?” he said, amused and cocky. “Great game, sir.” “It was aight. Happy for the W, but I wanted to fucking kill that little prick Sullivan. That check was bullshit.” I pointed to the foam roller. “You okay?” “Huh?” He seemed confused. “Oh yeah, I’m square. Gotta do this pretty much every day. In fact…” Carson stood up and whipped off his shirt. “Why don’t you see if you can work out the kinks?” The sight of his ripped upper body, glistening with sweat, had me boned immediately. He lay back down on the mat face down, resting his head on his arms. I tentatively straddled his bubble but, careful to bahçelievler escort avoid letting my own wood touch him. Between the ripe smell and the heat coming off him, it’s like the situation was designed to turn me on. I’d never given a massage before, but I reached down and used both hands in my best approximation of what would feel good. The muscles in Carson’s broad back were tight and hard, just like the rest of him. I searched for knots, and when I found some worked my thumbs deep into them. This earned me a light groan from the stud below me. “Mmm, harder.” I put more force into my efforts. After a few minutes, it did feel like he was loosening up a bit. I was mesmerized as I got to touch such a perfect specimen of man. “Hop off a sec,” he said, starting to roll over. I quickly jumped up, surreptitiously adjusting the bulge in my pants so it wasn’t so prominent. He unlaced his hockey pants and pulled them off, leaving him in just a jockstrap. It too was soaked in sweat, his package fully visible, and looking soft but plump. Carson laid back down on the mat in the same position as before, his legs a little wider. “Eat me out while you massage my ass, bitch,” he said. His ass looked sweaty and delicious. I spread his cheeks and saw his hole, ripe, what little blonde hair he had matted down. I leaned in and took a sniff. He smelled intense. I dove in gratefully, licking at Carson’s ass. It tasted like heaven, so tight and ripe. I lapped at his hole, his crack, his taint. I stuck my tongue as far up his asshole as I could, wiggling it around and jabbing. I licked down his taint to his package, still encased in the sweaty jockstrap. I mouthed his nuts through the fabric, enjoying the taste. The way he was squirming under me, moaning, and the way his dick was clearly beginning to fill out, I could tell he liked my worship of his ass. I could have eaten that hard peach for the rest of my life. Carson rolled over, and I thought I was gonna get his dick in my mouth, but he quickly stood up and walked out of the room. Through the doorway I saw him whip off his jockstrap and walk into another different room. I heard the sound of a shower turning on. “Get naked and get in here, bitch!” I quickly stripped down and found Carson under the shower, his eyes closed. For a second I just gawked. He looked like a Greek god, water streaming down his chest, rippling over his pecs and abs. His dick hung heavy, not hard yet but clearly awake. Carson opened his eyes and saw me there. “Lather me up.” A set of dispensers lined the wall. I found the one for body wash and a comical amount squirted into my hand. He had turned his back to me, front still under the shower’s spray. I began rubbing it all over his beautiful body, enjoying every muscle and curve, the hard lines of his muscles barely yielding to my touch. I started on his back, rubbing down his broad shoulders and the muscles in his back, crouching down to get his ass and legs. As I soaped up his ass, I was tempted to let a finger go where my tongue had just been, but thought better of it. Once Carson felt his backside was sufficiently soapy, he stepped in front of the shower and let me do his front. His dick had grown to half mast. I, of course, was rock hard. I had to be careful to give our dicks a wide berth. I’m certain Carson wouldn’t appreciate having to touch my dick. In a sword fight with that beast I’d easily lose; it wasn’t even a competition. I worked the lather over his pecs and pits, down each arm, over his ripped 8-pack. I did the fronts of his legs next, saving the best for last. I squirted more body wash into one hand and gave his dick and balls a good massage. I let the lather build up and began to jerk his cock to full hardness. I fondled his balls with one hand as I stroked him with the other, eventually achieving his typical massive erection. I saw Carson’s eyes open and a look of hunger cross his face. He reached out and grabbed me by the neck, spinning on his heel as he pushed me against the wall under the shower, my face against the tile. Behind me, I felt him smack his now hard cock against my ass a few times. For a second, I worried he was going to go in raw, but then I heard him reach over to one of the dispensers and retrieve a few squirts. “Conditioner’ll have to do,” he growled behind me. Carson kicked my legs open wider and lined his dickhead, apparently lubed with conditioner, at my entrance. I braced myself. He had a hand on my shoulder, and the other went to my hip as with one swift motion he buried his whole length inside me. I screamed, my cry echoing through the whole steamy room. “Shut the fuck up, faggot,” Carson growled behind me, changing his arm positions so he had me in basically a half nelson, one giant hand covering my mouth as I cried out in pain and pleasure. It truly was both, his dick hitting my prostate over and over as he rutted me. Carson’s chest was pressed up against my back, my own chest against the wall, the hot water washing over us. He had himself deep inside me, fucking me with quick, shallow thrusts. The conditioner, however, didn’t make great lube. My ass was being torn up. It felt terrible, and fantastic. If not for the friction, I would have been in heaven. We’d never been so close together, his breath hot and insistent in my ear as he used me for his own carnal pleasure. balgat escort It felt intimate and animalistic. Eventually, my ass began to adjust, whether from his precum or simply use I wasn’t sure, and the pain abated. Carson must not have been satisfied with this position, because after a few minutes he pulled out and told me to get on all fours. The water spraying me, I clambered down to the floor and presented my ass in doggie. The tile dug into my knees. I had only the quickest moment of rest before I felt Carson’s hands on my hips and his dick back inside me, a long dicking this time. Every time he thrust into me, I slid slightly forward. My body was so overwhelmed by the intensity of the fucking I was receiving I was basically a wet noodle. My elbows couldn’t even hold me up; my arms splayed out in front of me and the right side of my face pressed to the floor. Taking an opportunity for more leverage, I suddenly felt the weight of Carson’s right foot on my face, pushing it hard into the floor. It hurt my face but with one leg up like that he was able to get insanely deep with each thrust. The sounds of his hips slapping against my ass echoed throughout the room. Suddenly, I heard footsteps on the tile. “Bro!” Matt’s voice called out. “You said 10 minutes!” “Almost. Done. Here.” Carson didn’t skip a beat, continuing to plow me as he talked. “You want some?” “Nah I’m good, man. Not tonight,” Matt said. “Gonna save it for those Chi hoes later.” I couldn’t see either of them, my face smushed against the tile. But something about the situation, Carson fucking me in this humiliating position, offering me to his roommate like a piece of meat, turned my crank enough that I started cumming, hands-free, all over the floor. Carson must have felt my ass tighten with my orgasm, because right after I’d blown my load on the tile, he was blowing his inside me with a huge primal roar. I could feel his baby batter painting my insides. Matt cracked up, clapping. “Damn bruh, you tryin’ to get that bitch pregnant?” “Faggots, man. Nature’s birth control.” This got another chuckle from Matt. Carson had pulled out of me and was already back under the shower, washing away his exertions. I rolled onto my back, exhausted and destroyed. I watched him rinse off, a satisfied, cocky look on his face. He reached down and lifted his dick, red and soft but still full from fucking, and began to piss all over me. “Open,” he commanded, and I opened my lips, letting his hot yellow stream fill my mouth, swallowing when I could but letting most of it spill out over my face. “Gross, dude,” Matt said, disgust in his voice, but when I ventured a glance in his direction I saw a prominent bulge in his sweats. Carson finished his shower but left it running as he exited the room. I took that as my cue to get up, and quickly rinsed off with a little soap. My body felt tender after the violent fuck it had just taken. I snuck a finger down to my asshole and found it puffy and sensitive. When I left the shower room, I found Carson nearly dressed. He threw a wet towel at me and grunted a quick “hurry up” as he pulled on his sneakers and stuffed gear into his hockey bag. I quickly dried off as best I could and retrieved my clothes, dressing in a rush so as not to keep them waiting. When the three of us left the locker room, the lights in the lobby were low. A janitor was mopping the floor, and as they passed both guys called out a cheerful “night Rick!” He gave them a thumbs up, and me a curious look. The early December night air was chilly. We could see our breath. Carson looked back at me and bobbed his head in the direction of his car. “Want a ride?” I nodded and got in the backseat of his Jeep. Trash littered the floor, reminding me of the state of the bedroom these two shared at Delta before I was made to clean it. As we drove across campus, they talked about the party they were anticipating that night. “Sarah coming?” Carson asked his roommate. “You been tryin’ to hit that for forever.” “Bro,” Matt said, seriously. “For. Fucking. EVER. She snaps me nudes practically every day. I don’t know what the fuck is going on!” “Chi Os, bro. All fucking cockteases.” “Bet. How bout you? Any pussy on the docket for the MVP tonight?” In the rearview mirror, Carson’s eyes flicked up to meet mine every so briefly. Did he need more pussy? We all knew he’d already dug out mine. “You know Becca’s friend Tai, that Hawaiian chick? I think she’s gonna stop by.” “You gonna give her a little poké bruh?” Matt asked, giggling. The conversation continued along those lines, as though I wasn’t there, until we reached my dorm. I hopped out, both guys grunting “later” as they pulled off to the rest of their night. 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? Soon, I felt my phone buzz with a text. I opened it. “Prob 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. TO BE CONTINUED… *** UP NEXT: It’s finals week, and the men of Delta need some stress relief… *** Thanks for reading! If you enjoyed the story, have feedback, or have ideas for future chapters, I’d love to hear from ail
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