Spring break wasn’t going as well as the boys had hoped.
They put up their lucky chick-pic in the cheap room they’d rented, hoping it would bring them luck. It didn’t. Wasn’t sex on spring break supposed to be easy?
"God!" one of them said one day. "All I want is to sink dick into flesh!"
"Don’t need a chick for that!" one of them had quipped back, meaning it as a joke.
But a funny sort of silence filled the room just then.
"Heh … yeah. We could fuck Matt here."
"What? Ha! Dude, cut it out." Matt knit his brows, smiling nervously.
The others looked at him. “Yeh … we could.”
"Dudes … ."
His objections were nothing 20 oz. of beer, applied frequently, couldn’t salve.
"Dude … what’s it feel like?"
Bryce turns his head and grunts. “I … it feels … just like … uhn … pressure … you?”
Evan lays a steadying hand on his bud’s shoulder. “Tight, dude … like tighter than … .”
He doesn’t need to finish the sentence. Bryce knows what he means, and blushes at the thought of being tighter than cunt.
Evan grips Bryce’s left hip. “Dude, I’m gonna go a little, ah, deeper.”
Bryce nods bravely. Evan sucks in his breath and pushes.
Bryce arches his back. “UHN! Ffffffuck!”
Evan panics a little. “What? What? It hurt?”
Bryce shakes his head, unable to speak at first.
"Just—pppressure!" he finally blurts. The exertion makes him clamp his ass.
"Uhn!" Evan yelps, rolling his eyes. Bryce’s legs tremble as he cranes his head to see if Evan is okay. Evan’s eyes are shut now, his mouth hanging open. He starts, hesitantly, to thrust.
Friendship is a bud you can trust … this much.
today’s featured tumblr: ahappytrail
"You’ll be great. Just relax."
Jeremy wasn’t so sure. These lunchtime rendezvouses were supposed to have been simple handjobs or massages, maybe oral. That’s what Jeremy had put in his craigslist ad: “discreet married man for hj/massage/body contact, maybe oral.” And by “oral’, he had meant “you blow me”. But Chris … Chris was a horny fucker. And so damn convincing. So young, so hot … Jeremy had already let things go too far, and now here he was, about to cross the final frontier.
He felt Chris’s head at his backdoor. Closing his eyes, he gripped the couch and tried to relax. Fuck! The younger man was—fuck! uhn!—huge! And yet there was denying it: Jeremy was very, very hard.
It was insane. Unplanned, for sure, and just insane.
Isaac and Brent had grown up next door, played sports together all through high school, and were now looking forward to college, Isaac to Wesleyan, Brent to State. This weekend, they and the girls were heading up to Sylvan State Park to hike, swim, have one last hurrah, and this afternoon the two of them were just gonna hang in Isaac’s backyard, catch some rays, maybe toss around the ball.
And then Isaac came out in those stupid, stupid plaid booty shorts with the belt.
"What the FUCK with those shorts?”
"What? They’re in."
"Yeah, maybe for faggots they’re in."
Isaac had blushed then. He’d wondered when he bought them: does this make me look gay? Are they really something you’d wear at college? But it’s not the kind of think you ask your sister or mom (and definitely not dad). The clerk had assured him … and he thought he looked hot in them … and … ugh.
Brent spluttered with laughter. “Holy fuck, dude, YES! So fucking gay.”
"Shit." Isaac had smiled good-naturedly, blushed, and then, on his way back to change, had just playfully booty-danced in front of Brent, the way they used to tease each other in the locker rooms, to make fun of fags, and confirm that they weren’t fags, and Brent had laughed and shoved at Isaac, and Isaac had teetered, tottered, and—
"Uff!" Right into Brent’s lap.
"Heh. Sorry, dude—"
Brent laughed again. “Dude, you getting all gay on me these days??”
Playfully, he’d slipped his hand up behind Isaac and gripped his ass. Isaac felt his nipples tighten; he blushed even more.
"Heh … fuck dude … you keep that up, I’m gonna get a boner, anyhow."
"Yeah?" Brent’s voice changed; his eyes changed.
Isaac stared at him. Brent gazed back.
The kiss was electric. Unplanned. Insane.
Who do you suppose stands behind him, looking at that sweet-cheeked butt, giving you eyes to see?
I say its a butler. He’s a rich kid, Beverly Hills rich, goes to prep school, and its his dad’s butler … or a gardener … or even the damn accountant … about to take the boss’s son.
What do you say?
The moving guy had been eyeing Doug all day. At first, Doug thought that the guy was annoyed with him, or maybe with Tricia, for how they kept asking him to move furniture around, But, then after Tricia had left with her mother to go look at window treatments, the moving guy had done more than just look at Doug; he kept talking to him, finding ways to be around him, brushing up against him. It took a while, but realization finally dawned, and Doug had felt both flattered and apprehensive. But he was engaged. And a professional. And he hadn’t done jack shit with a dude since he beat off with Logan McGuire the summer before college. He didn’t fuck around, and definitely not with dudes.
When the last lamp and end table had come through the door, Doug tried to keep his cool. ”Well, thanks a million. Want something cold before you go?”
The moving guy smirked. ”Nah … how about something hot?”
Again, it took a minute, but then Doug caught it. “Oh—ha, ha—look, bud, I’m flattered by you and all, I just—”
But the moving guy wasn’t listening. He was just pulling off his sweaty tshirt, exposing the tattoo on his arm and brilliant, muscular pecs.
"You’re up for it, I can tell. All your shy fucking grins at me."
"What?" Doug blanched. He hadn’t grinned—had he? "I didn’t—I don’t know—"
Suddenly, the moving guy was naked. ”You’re more than up for it, guys like you. You fucking need it.” His long, thick dick was already swelling, right before Doug’s eyes.
"L-l-look, ha ha! Look, I, uh—wow—you need to pull those pants back up dude, or I’m gonna—"
"Gonna what? Pop a boner and embarrass yourself?" The moving guy reached out and boldly gripped Doug’s groin.
"Ooomph!" Dough had grabbed at the guy’s arm, he remembered, but after that it all just went so quickly, the rubbing, the clothes, the kissing, the tingle up his spine, the assurances and promises that it wouldn’t hurt, and then that moment, this moment, when he just kicked up his legs and let the guy breed him.
It was moving day. And more things shifted than the furniture.
Every house with four or more men living in it simply has to have an inferior or two. Even if you’re just sitting around drinking and playing video games, its a lot more fun with one of your roommates bobbing on your dick.
Superior ALPHA jock Gods