European Trade: The Frenchman

Here’s the entirety of European Trade: The Frenchman, a hot new story by Gavin Rockhard! Beware: this tale of gay erotica contains a baguette!

Kyle didn’t discover that the men were lumberjacks and that they were on strike until much later. When he happened upon them, they appeared to be a couple dozen of the most muscular men he had ever seen, lounging around, drinking coffee and looking nonchalant when pretty girls walked by. It was a very sedate strike.

Kyle was here in France — visiting from his native Canada — in order to taste the masculine fruit of the country. And there was no sweeter fruit than these lumberjacks. Their muscles bulged against the black and white-striped shirts they wore, with low v-necks that showed off their strapping chest muscles.

One, in particular, attracted Kyle’s gaze. He was tall, broad-shouldered, mustached and grizzle-chinned, with a tattoo of a French flag visible on his chest and one of Marianne on his left bicep, which was bare beneath a sleeveless shirt.

“Bonjour,” Kyle said. He knew his French was good, if Quebecois-accented. “Je m’appelle Kyle.”

The man grunted. He screwed up his nose when Kyle sat next to him at the little cafe table. He looked like he was about to say something, but then a pretty middle-aged woman walked by, gabbing on her cell phone. The man watched her with intent interest.

“I would like to pay you money,” Kyle said. He blushed, momentarily at a loss for words as the man glared at him.

“I am on strike,” he said.

“No, no, I’m not going to pay you for your job, I have something special in mind,” Kyle said. “I want you to come back to my hotel room. I’ll pay you five hundred euros.”

“Quoi?”

“Five hundred euros. You just come back to my hotel room, and… y’know, let me do some stuff.”

“Quoi?”

“You know…”

“You show me,” he said as though he had a good guess and simply wanted confirmation. He frowned. “Under table.”

Kyle looked among the other lumberjacks, who smoked cigarettes and lazed like they were taking the day off instead of striking. One of them looked at the man as though he wanted to know what was happening, but he did not ask.

Shivering with fear and anticipation, Kyle dove underneath the cafe table. Tourists walked by, sneaking glances at him. The man wore blue pants made of some thick fabric; back in Canada, Kyle would have guessed they were Dickies but he wasn’t sure if that was a thing in France. He didn’t what he was expected to do, but he stuck his head between the man’s legs and kissed his cock.

“Tu es sale.”

The man wore no underwear. His massive, limp dick was palpable beneath the fabric of his pants. He laughed a deep, baritone boom when Kyle kissed his dick. When he laughed, his dick twitched.

The man stood up, and Kyle crawled out from underneath the table. The man stood there. He lit a cigarette. When Kyle stood near him, the man pointed to the ground. He ashed right on Kyle’s head.

“Crawl,” he said. He didn’t wait for an answer. He just turned around and walked away, and Kyle got down on all fours. He followed after him, keeping his head up and as close as he could get, so he could smell the man’s thick asscheeks.

He didn’t leave the cafe. He walked to the counter, and Kyle blushed intensely. The pretty girl clerk looked at him with a curious expression as she sold the man a baguette. She smiled flirtatiously at him, and she called him Hugo.

Hugo smiled at her. “Tu es très jolie,” he said. He kissed her on the lips, and she swooned into his arms.

For a moment, Kyle thought he was forgotten, that Hugo was going to take this girl into the men’s room and fuck her. But the girl pushed him away. She squealed and slapped him lightly, though she laughed and blushed as though she was happy to have kissed him despite the slap.

Hugo left her with a shrug, like he didn’t care that she had rejected him. He returned to his table, grabbed the beret he had left there, finished his coffee and walked off. He didn’t glance behind him at Kyle, who scampered after him.

“I thought we’d go to my hotel room. I’ll suck your dick and lick your asshole and you can fuck me,” Kyle said. “I’ll do anything you want. Five hundred euros.”

“Oui.”

“Okay. Thanks, Hugo,” Kyle said. “My hotel is-“

“Non,” he said. He stopped walking. They were in the cafe’s backyard. It didn’t appear to be used very often, but it was maintained. It was a small grassy plot that faced a cobblestoned alley. There was a row of shrubs that prevented anyone from seeing fully in, but the yard was not concealed — no one could see anything roughly below Hugo’s waist. Of course, people in the cafe’s kitchen could see through a window, but it seemed Hugo didn’t much care about that.

Hugo took off a hunk of the baguette with his teeth. He loudly munched on it, while Kyle settled on his knees in front of Hugo’s body. His face was just inches from Hugo’s crotch.

“Is it… do you want me to just…?”

“Suck,” Hugo said, his mouth full of bread. Crumbs landed on Kyle’s face. “Sucer.”

Kyle unzipped Hugo fly and pulled his pants down. He wasn’t wearing underwear, so his thick cockshaft popped right out. It hit Kyle in the face, making Hugo laugh.

“You have a big dick.”

“Oui,” Hugo said. His face was flat and expressionless. He puffed on the cigarette in one hand, then took another bite of the baguette. His burgundy beret almost fell off his head.

Kyle kissed his cocktip again. It twitched just like before, but now Kyle could taste the musty smell of his sweat. His uncut cock tasted something like a vineyard, Kyle thought, not the wine part, but the unused mash, the waste left over after making wine — he had gone on a tour of a real French vineyard before he found Hugo. It was musty and sweet and strong, and it made Kyle’s dick hard.

“Colette,” Hugo said. His voice was as grim and flat as his face. Kyle didn’t know what he meant at first, but then Hugo repeated it. “Colette.” He took a few steps closer to the window that faced the cafe’s kitchen. Kyle had to scramble after him to stay in front of his still-limp cock. That placed Kyle up against the ancient brick wall of the cafe, while Hugo’s big body filled the open window into the kitchen. “Colette.”

That pretty waitress from inside walked in there from the cafe. She scoffed at Hugo. “Eh, Hugo, go away, I am busy.”

From her position in the kitchen, she couldn’t see that Hugo’s dick was out, and she couldn’t see that Kyle was letting that entire shaft drop into his mouth. He suckled on it, as passionately as he could without making much noise. He wasn’t sure if Hugo was deliberately hiding the blowjob from Colette, but he didn’t want to make more attention than he had to — he didn’t even really want this to be public, that wasn’t something Kyle liked. He would have rather taken Hugo into a hotel room and had his way with him.

“I have written a poem,” Hugo said. His dick was beginning to get hard now that Colette was paying attention to him.

She blushed and laughed again. She waved him off, but she also moved closer, washing dishes near enough to the window that she could hear him.

“Let me see your breasts,” he said. His cock throbbed in Kyle’s mouth. “Or just one. They are so beautiful, they are like poems of the flesh. My words can never be as inspired as they are.”

She undid her blouse, and let one of her tits fly free. She made it look rather casual, as though it was an accident, though she had clearly done so deliberately. Hugo lowered his head and tried to suck on her nipple, as his dick fully perked up to full erection in Kyle’s mouth.

“Hush, Hugo, I am married,” she said. She took her breast away and covered it up. “Let me hear your poem.”

He straightened his back. His dick twitched in Kyle’s mouth, and he lit another cigarette. He exhaled the smoke away from the cafe. He put the baguette down on a table that sat out back — it had a wobbly leg, so it tottered when he put the baguette on it. His heavy, hairy balls rested on Kyle’s chin, dripping sweat onto him while the first few drops of salty precum hit his tongue.

You are pretty like Paris

When it lights up at night

You are an oasis of illumination

In a desert of night-time

You are where the camel drinks at last

Before it dies

Under the fierce Algerian sun

You are my canteen

The final drink

The last one I need

To die on sand, satisfied

And thirst, quenched

Vous êtes jolie comme Paris

Quand il allume la nuit

Vous êtes une oasis d’illumination

Dans un désert de nuit

Vous êtes là où le chameau boit enfin,

Avant qu’il ne meurt

Sous le soleil algérien féroce

Vous êtes ma cantine

La boisson finale

La dernière que je dois

Pour mourir sur le sable, satisfait

Et la soif, trempé

She blushed and smiled. “That is very pretty, Hugo,” she said. She patted him on the muscular belly beneath his lumberjack’s shirt. His skin puckered at her touch, and his dick twitched. She bared her tit again for him, making him growl with desire. She covered it back up with a giggle. “But you did tell the same poem to Maria last week. She has told me about it.”

Hugo’s mouth opened but no words came out. His deep voice rumbled. He had obviously not meant to get caught at this. She laughed at his reaction, then turned around and walked away.

“Damn it!” Hugo snorted when she was gone. “Merde!” The kitchen was empty.

He pistoned his hips before Kyle could react. That pushed his entire cock down Kyle’s throat. Kyle choked and spasmed, and his own dick leaked precum into his fingers. His head banged painfully into the wall behind him.

He slathered spit all along the shaft, coughing up so much saliva it dripped in clumps. Hugo’s muscles bulged beneath his black-and-white striped shirt, which had a few dark spots now where he sweated through it.

Kyle’s hands stretched up to Hugo’s chest, slipping under that shirt to massage his hairy muscles. He had a thick nest of fur there on his torso, which Kyle loved. He wished he could get up and lick his chest clean, but he had a feeling Hugo would not allow that.

As Kyle groped Hugo, Hugo groped as well — his hands slipped into the window, where he felt around until he found a cheese plate. He pulled it out. The smell of funky cheese filled the air, overpowering even the precum and sweat scent of Hugo’s cock.

As he pumped his hips, fucking Kyle’s face, Hugo ignored his choking and his frenzied sucking. He just grabbed the baguette he had half-eaten, and he made himself a cheese sandwich, just by ripping off hunks of bread and cheese. He ate it vociferously, crumbs landing all over Kyle and even on Hugo’s dick so Kyle could taste the bread and the sour cheese.

All of a sudden, Hugo pulled off Kyle’s face. He jammed the baguette into Kyle’s face as though trying to make him deepthroat that as well. He laughed cruelly when the baguette just left crumbs all over Kyle’s cheeks.

“Lick my ass. Lécher mon cul.”

Then he turned around. His asscheeks were big and plump and tanned brown. They were hairy, but not extremely so, they were just hairy enough for Kyle. He dove his face between those cheeks.

Hugo grunted like he was surprised. Kyle loved licking ass though, so he enthusiastically lapped at the sweat that trickled between Hugo’s cheeks. His body was big and plump, so his ass was juicy. Kyle’s entire face fit between those delicious cheeks. He sucked every inch of Hugo’s funky hole.

His eyes and his nose were covered by sexy manmeat, but Kyle could hear that something was happening. Hugo shifted his weight a little, like he faced a different direction now. Hugo said something and laughed — was that aimed at Kyle? He couldn’t tell.

Eventually Kyle had to come up for air. He was still pinned between the wall and Hugo’s big ass, but he could see just barely that there was a white-faced mime in the alley. He must have been walking by and seen Hugo getting his ass licked.

Now the mime was bent over, leaning against the fence with his ass in the air. He wiggled his ass like a dog trying to scratch an itch. That made Hugo laugh, and Kyle joined in — the mime was making fun of them. He was in the same position as Hugo, moving his ass as though an invisible man licked it.

Kyle licked all the way from the top of Hugo’s ass, right at the small of his back, down his asscrack, over his hole and through the funky hair of his taint. Kyle’s head appeared on the other side of his body, where Kyle swallowed his heavy ballsac.

Hugo grunted. He lifted his balls up, then plopped them back in Kyle’s mouth a few times.

Sensing that Hugo was ready to move on, Kyle stood up, very slowly, keeping his tongue out so he licked Hugo’s cockshaft then all the way up his chest and over that black-and-white striped shirt he still wore.

He nearly managed to lick all the way up to Hugo’s face so he could kiss him on the lips — Kyle thought some straight European men would be willing to tolerate that — but Hugo roughly pushed his face away. Probably because his tongue had been inside Hugo’s ass just seconds ago, Kyle thought.

Oh well, that was okay with him. He knew what he wanted to do next. He dropped his own pants to bare his ass, while Hugo watched. He reached into the kitchen again, this time pulling out a bottle of red wine and a glass. He poured himself a drink. He laughed at the mime who mimicked everything Hugo did.

The mime finished his invisible wine and smashed the invisible glass on the road. Then he grabbed an invisible ass and pretended to fuck it, making Hugo laugh some more. The mime was really very good, Kyle thought.

As Hugo actually bent Kyle over for real, the mime beckoned for someone. Kyle blushed as he realized he was about to have an audience.

He bit his lip and threw his head back as Hugo rammed his dick in without a word of warning. He didn’t use any lube at first, but he started to spit on his cockshaft once he felt resistance. The pain in Kyle’s ass was extraordinary, and he moaned in both desire and agony.

It turned out the mime beckoned a musician, an accordionist who laughed when he saw Hugo fucking Kyle. The accordionist began playing musette music, which made the entire experience seem almost romantic to Kyle. The crooning accordion filled the air, covering up the sound of Kyle’s gasping as he accepted more and more of Hugo’s meat.

“Ooh la la,” Kyle said through his moans. His prostate came alive and sent tingles through his body. His pleasure grew in waves with every touch of Hugo’s cock inside him.

Hugo’s sausage-like fingers grabbed ahold of Kyle’s back and held on. His dick was all the way in Kyle’s ass now, his balls slapping against Kyle’s thighs. Kyle squirmed. Hugo grunted.

The tune coming from the accordion changed to a new song. Kyle recognized it but he couldn’t place it at first. He was too overwhelmed by sensations from deep within him to think about it.

It was only when Hugo began singing that Kyle recognized the words and placed it to the tune — it was “La Marseillaise”, the national anthem of France. It was a bloody, martial song and, despite the romance of the accordion, that atmosphere shone through because Hugo sang it with his deep, baritone voice, crackling, booming, pumping his biceps and his pecs on the accented words. He sounded like a soldier marching off to war, Kyle thought, covering up his own moans so he didn’t overpower the sound of Hugo singing.

At last an orgasm ran through Kyle’s body. He loved cumming with a straight man’s cock in his ass because it always made the straight man react — Hugo stopped singing for a moment. He grumbled, then groaned in surprise as Kyle’s asshole clenched around his cock.

When Hugo began to gyrate his hips again, the pain was worse than ever on account of Kyle’s orgasm-tightened ass. That didn’t last long, however, as the smell of cum filled the air, crowding out the bleu cheese and wine that still lingered, and the passion of Hugo’s fucking made Kyle relax

Now he shuddered, aftershocks of his orgasm wracking his body. He was fully limp though, barely able to remain on all fours in front of Hugo, with his ass in the air and his head on the ground.

Since Kyle no longer jacked himself off, Hugo could — and did — treat him like a ragdoll. He held onto Kyle’s asscheeks tightly, riding him, grinding his dick inside Kyle’s body as though he needed to fuck every inch of Kyle’s innards. He grunted out a few indecipherable French syllables.

Once he finished his wine, he smashed the delicate glass on Kyle’s back. A few shards of glass sprayed onto the ground at Kyle’s feet, and the slight twinge of pain made Kyle writhe. The smell of wine was strong now. Kyle squirmed but Hugo kept a tight grip on his body.

“I will drown your ass now,” Hugo said with a broken moan. “Je vais noyer ton cul maintenant…”He slapped Kyle’s cheeks and watched them ripple. His own muscles flexed and rippled as well, as an orgasm washed over his body.

His lit cigarette fell out of his mouth and landed on Kyle’s back, scorching him briefly before it rolled off him and fell onto the ground. He yelped a little, as the pain reawakened the exquisite sensations in his asshole.

Hugo fucked relentlessly, still breaking into the words of “La Marseillaise” every few seconds as the accordionist continued the song (or maybe started it over, Kyle couldn’t tell). Hugo grunted and roared as he fucked, and cum spurted out of his uncut cock.

It filled up Kyle’s ass, dripping into every corner of his body. He shot so much that some of it slipped out his ass, coating his butt and his inner thighs in creamy goodness. It was hot and thick, and it made Kyle moan when he felt wad after wad of semen land on his prostate.

He squirmed. He moved his ass back and forth, fucking himself with Hugo’s dick. Hugo stood perfectly still. He lit yet another cigarette as he still moaned with the power of his own orgasm.

“Ooh la la…” Hugo murmured with a dry, throaty chuckle.

Then his dick was perfectly limp. Kyle pulled off him and sighed. The most incredible relief of his life flooded his body now that his ass was empty. He turned around and dove his face between Hugo’s lumberjack arm and his body. As Hugo breathed heavily, and the mime and accordionist walked away, Kyle licked all the sweat that had collected there in Hugo’s damp armpit.

At last it was over. Hugo flopped his limp dick between his fingers, and he wiped his shaft off with the last little bit of baguette. He rammed the crusty, ass-and-cum-soaked bread into Kyle’s mouth, laughing when it made Kyle cough and choke.

He pulled his pants up, took a drag off his cigarette, then glanced towards the street. There was a pretty girl walking past, and Hugo’s eyes lit up.

“Money,” Hugo said. “Argent, maintenant.”

Kyle had forgotten he hadn’t actually paid yet. He pulled out his wallet, carefully counted out five hundred euros and handed it over. Hugo took it, nodded, then took the rest of the cash out of Kyle’s wallet. He pushed Kyle away and walked out to the main street, calling after the pretty girl.

“Antoinette! Antoinette! Attends-moi!”

Finally left alone, Kyle sighed. He pulled his own pants up and leaned against the fence. Inside the cafe’s kitchen, Colette had returned with a plate of dirty dishes. He wrinkled her nose at Kyle as though she either thought he was homeless or knew he was a tourist and didn’t like them.

But she didn’t tell him to leave the yard, so Kyle just stayed there, smelling the wine, bleu cheese and cum, the combined scent of which would forever make him think of France and the sexiest French stud he had ever met.

He smiled. This European tour, he thought, was going to be even better than he had hoped.

Ice Hockey Jocks

Here’s the beginning of Ice Hockey Jocks, a hot new story by Ricky Chandler!

 

I couldn’t believe that I was actually on the team now. It was something that I wanted for my whole life. I had wanted to be part of the Newtown Knicks. They were always the most popular hockey team and ever since I was a child, this was something that I have dreamt about. I worked my whole childhood after every day in school practicing and learning how to skate. After I learned how to skate I quickly picked up a stick and started Peter pattering a puck around the rink. My dad would stay late and help skate with me. He would be equally and I would shoot goals on him constantly. During high school I quickly built up my skills, I became the MVP of our team. During the varsity sports I brought our team to the championships. I progressed even further in college. At college, I managed to escalate my skills even further. We were a number one ranked team and we were dominating our field. During my senior year of college I was scouted by the top agents out there. And I had my pick of the litter of which team I wanted to join.

 

Of course, the team that I decided to join was the Newtown Nick’s. I did it for the money, yes, but, I also did it because that was my favorite team. In fact, they weren’t even offering me the most money. The Westside Patriots offered double the money that these guys were offering but I wanted to go with the team that I respected the most.

 

Introduction to the team.

 

On the first day I went down to the ice rink where they practiced, I wore a tank top and brought my gear with me in the bag. I made sure that I looked fresh and clean, I wanted to give a good impression to all the guys. I saw them standing there practicing and also standing watching the practice. And then I tripped as I walked towards the rink. There was a stair that I didn’t see. As I tripped every single one of the members of the team saw me and they started laughing. My face turned bright red as a tomato. I quickly regrouped grabbed my bag and confidently walked towards them.

 

“This must be one of the recruits” one of them shouted aggressively.

 

They all started laughing again.

 

I kept walking and went all the way right past them into the locker room. I put down my bag and I saw a locker with the nameplate “rookie”. I figured this was my spot.

First-Time Ganging the Whole Frat

Here’s a sample from the beginning of First-Time Ganging the Whole Frat! That’s a hot new tale of interracial f/m/m/m action at the sexiest frat party you’ll ever read about!

 

It was my first day at grad school and I was rather excited about all of the fun I would have. My degree was in psychology and I knew what these boys wanted to. They had been eyeing me for years and years. I had always been a good girl and never gave it up. I was definitely a virgin still. But that didn’t stop me from having all of these dirty thoughts. These dirty thoughts would always creep into my mind and consume my every thought once I lied into bed.

 

As I sat there in my dorm all alone. I pulled out my vibrator and I started to go to town and myself. Just because I was a virgin didn’t mean I wasn’t sexually active with myself. I knew every ounce of my body. I knew every square inch of it, and I knew how to please myself so well. I did so with great ease tonight thinking about the party that I was supposed to attend tomorrow.

 

I was invited to this party from an african american guy who worked at a sandwich shop. When I was getting a sandwich he was giving me the eye, and I followed up by getting his number. He told me about this fraternity party that he had tomorrow night and that was just the place that I needed to go. It was just the thing that I wanted to do the start of this new school year, and I always had a thing for black guys since I was a petite white women.

 

All of this anticipation I had regarding this party tomorrow night was building me up to quite a climax. My vibrator was quick to bring me to the first orgasm. I then reached my hand down and tasted my juices. My juice tonight tasted rather good, a little sweet actually.

The Flight Attendant: First-Time Straight to Gay

Here’s a sample from the beginning of The Flight Attendant: First-Time Straight to Gay, a story by Ricky Chandler, who’s new to this site!

 

It had been a few weeks now since I joined the airline. I always wanted to be a flight attendant and now that I was it was so fulfilling flying around the country and taking people from destination to destination. The proudest moment was when I got to put the little plastic wing badge on my pocket. Going through the training program was very rigorous.

 

During the training, although it was rigorous, I developed some really good friendships. All of the other guys were very well groomed and well mannered. Whenever we would go on the training events they were always there hanging out after our shift in different cities. We would walk around and see some really cool sites in the cities.

 

Although I had started a few weeks ago it was already time for me to graduate from my training this coming Friday. I decided I would wear one of my tight muscle shirts which was also a collared shirt. I just felt very confident that shirt and I wanted to look good.

Betsy Bright, Her Minotaur Man and His Labyrinthine Love

Here’s the first chapter of Betsy Bright, Her Minotaur Man and His Labyrinthine Love, a hot erom tale of romance, passion, lust and one incredible maze!

The only part of her job that didn’t bore Betsy Bright was looking at Mr. Tauren. He was a nearly seven foot tall stud who filled out his tailored Italian suits perfectly. He owned a mining services company, and he was one of those rare CEOs who had really worked his way up the ranks. He had begun slinging coal when he was just out of high school, and received an executive position in his early thirties.

He was impressive, not just because he was a self-made man, but also because he was black. There were very few black people anywhere in this part of Tennessee, and virtually none of them were in the coal industry. Betsy respected the hell out of Mr. Tauren.

And she lusted for him like a schoolgirl. He was broad-shouldered and muscular, with a gruff, no-nonsense manner of speaking. When he got angry with someone, like he was today, he bristled in his suit, muscles remaining tense all day as though they might jump right off his body. He was also scrupulously nice to Betsy whenever he was mad at someone else, seemingly because he worried he would be accidentally mean to her and went out of his way to be nice to avoid that.

“Betsy, I wanted to thank you for your work these days,” Mr. Tauren said. “I know I am not always an easy man to deal with.” His voice was clipped and angry.

“Oh, Mr. Tauren you’re no bully! You’re so nice! You’re easy to deal with,” Betsy said. Then she blushed, not sure if she was obvious in her crush on him.

He smiled. “Well, thank you for all your attentiveness. You can send Walter in,” he said. He was interrupted by more sirens — they had been active for the last hour or so — blaring past outside. “I wonder what’s going on…”

He went into his office then, and Betsy gave him a minute or two to settle in at his desk before nodding for Walter to enter. Walter was a mid-level manager who fidgeted in his ill-fitting suit as he sat there in the waiting room. He took a deep breath and went into the office.

Betsy smiled at him as he went by. She knew he was in trouble. That must be why Mr. Tauren was in an angry mood. Walter was about to get yelled at.

But Mr. Tauren didn’t “yell” exactly, not when he was angry. His deep rumbling voice was loud enough to be audible to Betsy, but she couldn’t make out the words. All she heard was a stentorian mumble of syllables, and Walter’s occasional pleas.

Was Walter fired? It sure sounded like he was begging for his job.

Betsy was distracted by yet more sirens. She went to the window. The cop cars were on their way to South Memphis. That much wasn’t so surprising, since South Memphis was the ghetto. But that had to be just about every cop car in the county heading there all at once. What was going on?

There was nothing on the local newspaper’s website. She was intensely curious, but before she could investigate further, Walter came out of the office. He kept his head held high, but his eyes were reddish and his face was tense — he had definitely been fired.

When Betsy saw him out, he nodded politely and left. He didn’t say anything else. It was tense and nerve-wracking for Betsy, but she felt safe since Mr. Tauren was nearby. He was very protective of her — when Betsy had said she got catcalled by a miner on the way into the office once, Mr. Tauren had left and come back an hour later dragging a miner by the ear to apologize to her.

Mr. Tauren was in his office, working out. He did that when he was bothered by something. It was always obvious what he was doing because he took off his suit — he wore workout clothes underneath — and hung the jacket up outside his office. He believed that it would pick up his sweaty scent from the air if he kept it in there with him he exercised.

Betsy was aroused by the thought of him in that t-shirt-and-track-pants look, which she had only actually seen twice. But both times, it had left her panties tingling.

She idly refreshed the browser on her computer, and shock flooded her at the sight of the updated homepage — Riots in Memphis! She gasped and clicked, her lust for Mr. Tauren forgotten.

There wasn’t much in the way of details at the moment, but over the next few hours, the story became apparent. A black man named Albert White had been shot by police this afternoon, apparently because he was mistaken for a different black man. The most alarming part of the story, for Betsy anyway, was that the riot was not really in South Memphis — it was right here. It was around the corner, or it had started there.

The chaos was all over the city. Betsy wasn’t sure it would be safe to walk back to her car. And when she went to the window, she gasped again — the riot was right there.

Two black men in masks streamed past the window, carrying something burning and possibly a gun, she couldn’t quite see. Betsy squealed at the sight of an overturned car not that much farther away.

“Walter? Get outta here! I-“ Mr. Tauren poked his head out of the office, apparently assuming that it was Walter who had caused Betsy a fright. Mr. Tauren saw Betsy look anxiously out the window and he joined her. He saw the overturned car. “What’s that? A car accident?”

“No… Well, yes,” Betsy said. “But there’s a riot.”

“What?”

“A riot started a few hours ago. It’s something to do with a police shooting,” Betsy said.

“Those fuckin’ idiots… Pardon my French, ma’am.”

Betsy giggled. “I’ve got news for you, Mr. Tauren. That’s not technically French.”

He smiled. “Oh. Well, le riot est stupide. Is that better?”

“Sounds right.”

He sighed. “Well, you can’t leave.”

“What?”

“That’s where your car is parked, right? You can’t get to your car, and it wouldn’t be safe for you to drive anywhere anyway. Don’t you live on Martindale? That’s not a nice neighborhood.”

“Oh, I’ll be okay.”

“I insist. I don’t want you to be afraid,” he said. “You can stay here as late as you need to tonight. Don’t clock out, I’ll pay you until it’s safe for you to go home.” He paused. “Or until tomorrow morning. Sorry, I can’t pay you forever. You know how the Board of Directors has been riding-“

“I know, Mr. Tauren, that’s fine. I can’t imagine that the riot will still be going on in the morning,” she said. “But you can’t leave either, can you?”

He took a deep breath. “I guess that’s not really safe either.” He bit his lip. “You might think I’d be safe cuz I’m a big black guy.” He waited, but Betsy wasn’t sure she could say anything that wouldn’t sound racist. “But, uh… It ain’t like that.”

“Mr. Tauren, I never thought that.”

“I look like a cop, okay?”

“What?”

“They’ll say I look like a cop. I can’t take on every black guy in Memphis,” he said.

“I don’t-“

“It ain’t fair, but that’s how it is. I get accused of being a cop every time I go to South Memphis. They’ll see me and they’ll assume I’m a cop because I don’t sag my pants and I don’t have any neck tattoos, and I’m not a fat nerd or a hipster, so what else could I be but a cop?”

“A lot of things…”

“So I guess I’ll stay here too,” he said. “Just a couple hours.” He paused. “Let’s see what we have in the fridge. I’m getting hungry.”

Betsy wasn’t hungry yet. It wasn’t even technically quitting time — it was four-thirty, so it was awfully close. Betsy didn’t want to eat in front of Mr. Tauren because it would make her feel self-conscious. She wasn’t fat, but she was bigger than she wanted to be.

She had been so distracted by the riot that she barely noticed Mr. Tauren come out of his office wearing that sleeveless t-shirt. His bare arms were the size of her head. He was so tall she had to crane her neck to see his face. His body heat was palpable. He didn’t smell like sweat at all, though she did catch a whiff of his deodorant like it was working overtime.

She tried not to stare at his ass in that sheer track pants fabric as he put together some sandwiches from the small office refrigerator. Luckily Mr. Tauren was a big man who was very active, so he ate frequently and kept food there in the fridge. He had plenty of deli meat and condiments. There was no bread at all — Mr. Tauren didn’t eat carbs — but Betsy didn’t mind that so much. She ate a sandwich minus the bread, while Mr. Tauren finished his work in his office.

When five o’clock came, the riot had only gotten worse. It was starting to get national attention. There was a fire not that far away. Betsy didn’t even feel safe standing near the door anymore.

“I think these people are overreacting,” Betsy blurted out. “This isn’t going to solve police violence.” She blushed, thinking she had offended him. She looked away from him.

“I’m not offended. You’re right. It won’t solve anything in itself,” he said. “But doing nothing won’t solve anything either. The police won’t negotiate policy changes without a gun to their head. If you do put a gun to their head, they won’t negotiate with you, but they will negotiate with those more reasonable protesters they’d been ignoring until then.”

“You’re so smart, Mr. Tauren.”

“You should call me Paul.”

“Okay, Paul,” she said. She blushed. She had never called him his first name before. She shuddered as a bolt of desire ran through her.

“It looks like we’re going to have to sleep here,” Paul said. “Do you want the couch in the waiting room? That’s probably the most comfortable.”

She nodded. “Sure, that’s fine.”

He took a deep breath. “Betsy… I need to tell you something. You can’t tell anyone.”

“Of course. I signed the non-disclosure agreement to work here.”

“It’s not that. It’s… It’s not work-related,” he said. “I… I’m not actually human. Or rather, I am human, but I’m not a normal human. I’m a special kind of human.”

“What are you talking about?”

“We’re cursed. That’s what separates us from normal humans.”

“Mr. Tauren… Paul… what are you talking about?”

“I’m a minotaur.”

“A what?”

“A minotaur.”

“Is that a metaphor?”

“What? No, it’s not a metaphor,” he said. “It’s a literal description of what I am. My natural shape is a half-man, half-bull creature. I can look human, like you see me now, but only with effort. When I sleep, I will turn back to minotaur shape.”

“Mr. Tauren…”

“I will show you,” he said. “I am sorry, I will be naked.” He transformed then into a minotaur, brown muscles sprouting fur as he shot up to maybe twelve feet tall. Horns sprouted from his forehead, and his nostrils flared.

It all happened so quick that Betsy couldn’t process what was happening. She watched him change, still thinking about what he might mean — maybe the Minotaurs was the name of his favorite football team? Was it short for something? Some sort of hip hop crew? Was it a black thing?

But no, she realized, it was real. He was being literal.

A twelve foot tall minotaur stood before her. His dense fur was very real. His horns gleamed. He was naked, a massive bull-like cock dangling right in front of her — that sure looked real too. He let out a baritone roar that sent a shudder through Betsy’s body.

She wanted to go home, but she couldn’t. There was a riot out there, and she wouldn’t be able to find her way anyway. The rioters had probably changed the streets, turning them into an impassable maze. She didn’t live far away, but she could get lost, and that would be dangerous in a riot. She had to stay here with this monster.

Her heart skipped a beat. Was she really going to be here all night? Why not? Nothing had changed, had it? Of course, something had changed. But he was still Mr. Tauren. He was still the same overprotective, strong man he had always been. He was just… a minotaur.

“Here,” Paul said. He handed over a ball of string. “I want to give this to you. It will always find me. No matter where I am, the string will lead you to me.”

“Why give it to me?”

“Because if I go missing, you will likely be the first to know it,” he said. “I have no family. I have no friends.”

“Oh, Paul, that’s terrible…”

“I travel too much. This is why I travel,” he said, gesturing to his minotaur body. “Any place I stay in for too long will turn into a labyrinth.”

“What?”

“It is the burden of the minotaur. The first minotaur was cursed so that no one would ever be able to find him. The curse embodied itself in a force called labyrinthium, which minotaurs exude all the time. It causes geography, and reality itself, to alter. It turns any location into a maze. If I stayed here in Memphis long enough, the entire city would become a long, winding labyrinth, and the people here would be my guardians. That would take many years. It is a slow process. But it begins very quickly.”

“That’s terrible… You poor man…” She clutched his arm, shivering at the feel of his coarse bull fur.

They were both silent then for a moment as gunshots rang out somewhere. There were young black men running past the building, carrying what appeared to be one of their friends. A trio of police officers chased after them, guns drawn. A line of blood marked the trail they had followed.

“I am glad to be stuck here with a beautiful woman,” Paul said. His minotaur voice was even deeper than his normal voice. It boomed and resonated in the office. “I can think of no one I would rather spend the night here with.”

His words hung there for a brief second. Then Betsy giggled and blushed. She hadn’t expected him to say anything like that, especially in his giant minotaur form. It felt strange

He transformed back to his human shape, and she was annoyed to see that his clothes shapechanged with him, so he wasn’t naked. She blushed even more intensely.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “I didn’t mean to be so forward. In minotaur form, I find it difficult to censor myself. Minotaurs are brutish by nature, after all.”

“So that’s how you really feel about me?”

He paused for a long time. “Yes. You are stunningly beautiful. If you weren’t my employee, I would have asked you out a long time ago.”

“Well, tonight we can’t go out, on account of the riot,” she said. “We have to stay in.” She made a kissy face, and he smiled at her. At first he didn’t kiss her, making Betsy wonder if she had done something to offend him.

But then he planted his lips on hers, and she kissed him back. She threw her hands around his broad, strapping shoulders. His muscles writhed beneath his suit.

Somehow they ended up naked. Betsy didn’t remember taking her clothes off, but it happened. All she noticed was Paul’s body above her own, his bull-like snorts and roars, his heavy breathing, his tender lips kissing every inch of her delicate frame.

When he entered her, Betsy was shocked at her own willingness to go all the way with him — she was not the kind of person to be sexually active with someone she didn’t really know well, especially not a coworker and, in this case, a boss. That was unthinkable to her, utterly unacceptable according to the rules she had set out for her own life.

But those rules were gone now. All she cared about was running her nails into the smooth skin of his back. She scratched at him as he sped up his motions, his manhood drilling deep into her with each thrust of his hips.

She rode him just as hard as he rode her. She wrapped her legs around his body and gripped his shoulders with his arms, until soon she was not even on the floor. She literally rode him as he stood up, supporting her in his powerful arms.

Betsy had never done anything like that. She had never had sex in an exotic position, but now she was on his body, humping with all her might as he passionately fucked. He easily supported her, while she continued to claw at his torso, feeling like she might fall no matter how tight a hold he kept on her.

At last her orgasm approached. Betsy could feel it gathering deep within her, reaching its crescendo bit by bit with each thrust of Paul inside her. She moaned. He grunted. His hands tightened around her, and she squealed like a calf in his arms.

Finally it was all over. Betsy let out a long, low sigh. She couldn’t believe this had happened. The sex was shocking enough, she thought, but this was with a minotaur. She didn’t know how to take that.

“Thank you, Betsy,” he said as he gently let her down to the ground.

She sighed and pulled away from him. She was dizzy at first, her knees weak. He steadied her, and they both collapsed onto the couch together.

“Oh, Paul…”

“I’m glad I told you what I am,” he said. “I… I need to have someone I can talk to about this.”

“You can talk to me about anything,” she said with a giggle. “After all, I’m your personal assistant. Let me assist you, personally.”

Str8 Till College: A Freshman Tradition

Here’s the entirety of Str8 Till College: A Freshman Tradition, a new story from the Str8 Till College series! It’s available as part of a great value megapack called The Gay College Stud Anthology!

Ethan nervously added his name to the slip of paper. He wasn’t sure he really wanted to, but he didn’t want to be the only one not doing it. He figured no one was likely to actually go through with it anyway.

There was a tradition here on the seventh floor of Mirtois Tower, a dormitory on the north side of the GHU campus in Lansing, Michigan. It was a rather unpleasant tradition in Ethan’s eyes, but he had agreed just the same so he wouldn’t be left out. He sighed as he put the slip of paper in the basket. His name sat there surrounded by the other freshmen on this floor.

Awright, loverboy! I hope I draw your ass!

Then he drew a name. He didn’t even look at it at first. It was too embarrassing. He just stuffed it in his pocket and beamed like everyone else, as though he had just won something.

Only when he scurried back to his dorm room did he peer at the piece of paper. It was Kurtis. Ethan blushed though no one was around to see it.

That slip of paper meant he was allowed to fuck Kurtis, one of his dormmates. The seventh floor of Mirtois Tower’s tradition was that, over the weekend before spring break, anyone who wanted to could put their name in a basket and pick a different name out. Whoever’s name you got, you were allowed to fuck, in the mouth or the ass — it had supposedly been tradition since the fifties.

It seemed silly to Ethan. He got horny sometimes, but he never really wanted to fuck a man no matter how horny he got. It just seemed gross, not a suitable substitute for an actual woman. He barely knew Kurtis, who had a girlfriend and had noisy sex with her on a seemingly nightly basis — it kept Ethan up sometimes — so he had no intention of going through with it.

He didn’t even know why he had written his name down, except that people had been making a big deal out of this tradition since September. He thought it was a joke at first, when the RA, Walter, mentioned it. But by the time spring break rolled around, he had realized that it was serious and that everybody in the dorm was going to do it. The only one who turned it down was Hector, a weird, nerdy devout Catholic and everyone knew he only said no because he was embarrassed of the tiny cock he had been trying to keep hidden all year.

The drawing of names was anticlimactic. After spending all week dreading this weekend, Ethan had his name — and someone had his name, though he tried not to think about that — and now it was just all over. He simply went back to his dorm and went to bed. Everyone else went out to one party or another, but Ethan was too shy and quiet to finagle an invitation.

He went to sleep. He couldn’t stop thinking about sex, but somehow he drifted off into a fitless sleep.

The door to his dorm slid open, and someone walked in. Ethan woke up suddenly, but he was confused at first. He didn’t realize what was happening.

“Yo, hey, hush up, relax,” came a familiar, deep voice.

“What? Who are you?”

“It’s Kurtis, man,” he said. Kurtis was a leanly muscled black man with a square jaw, a noble chin and a flat nose. He was an athlete and a starting player on the college basketball team, which was especially impressive since he was only a freshmen, and they rarely started on any team.

“Oh, hey.” Ethan was nervous. He knew he should have been angry with Kurtis for waltzing right into Ethan’s dormroom. He was nervous because Kurtis was the name on his slip of paper — Ethan had the “right” (or at least the traditional right) to demand a blowjob from Kurtis right now, or even anal sex. He had no intention of doing that, however.

“Yo, uh, so… You wanna fuck around on the downlow?” Kurtis asked. He grinned sheepishly in the dark.

“Uh… am I…?”

He held up his piece of paper. “Yeah. I got yo’ name, man,” he said.

Ethan chuckled nervously. “I got your name,” he said. He held up his own piece of paper.

“Well, shit, that’s convenient,” Kurtis said. He put his hands on his hips. He grabbed his dick through his basketball shorts. “You wanna like sixty-nine or somethin’?”

At the same moment he said that, Ethan said, “You wanna just not do it?” They both exchanged awkward glances at the realization that they were not on the same page. Kurtis clicked his tongue against his teeth.

“Come on, man, don’t be a squeamish prude,” he said.

“It’s kinda weird,” Ethan said. “Don’t pretend I’m strange cuz I don’t want to do it.”

“You didn’t have to do it! You didn’t have to write your name down! You could have just written down Mickey Mouse, and if you did, I’d be off in Disneyland getting laid right now!”

“I didn’t think anyone would take it seriously!” Ethan said, gulping nervously. He sat up in the dark. Now that he was thinking about Kurtis’ body, it loomed next to him. Kurtis wasn’t huge, but he seemed big in the dark.

“Come on, ain’t you horny?” Kurtis said. “I never see you with a girl.”

“I get horny sometimes, but I’m not a total hornball like you,” Ethan said.

“Hornball?”

“You’re fucking your girl every night!”

“That’s not a bad thing!” Kurtis scoffed. “And it ain’t true anyway! She dumped me last week.”

“Really?”

Kurtis nodded. “She left me for Greg Winthrop. You know him? He’s on the golf team. I lost a girl to some white guy who plays golf,” he said. “You know how embarrassing that is? I can’t show my face in the Black Students Union until I land some other white chick.” He laughed at himself.

“You know… you can be a real jerk sometimes. I’m not surprised she dumped you,” Ethan said.

“Oh come on, I’m sorry,” Kurtis said. “Just chill out. Don’t white guys ever fuck around on the downlow?”

“No!”

“Why not?”

“It’s… gross, or whatever-“

“It ain’t gross, and that’s homophobic of you,” Kurtis said. He beamed like he was proud to have said something politically correct for once. He placed one hand on Ethan’s shoulder. It rested there, heavy and foreboding. It was all Ethan could think about for a moment.

“I’m not a homophobe.”

“Then fuck me,” Kurtis said. “Come on… You’ll feel better when it’s done-“

“Fine! Just stop being a jerk,” Ethan said. He shook his head. “You’re a real asshole sometimes.”

“But not all the time? Thank you, you have a higher opinion of me than most of the freshmen in this dorm! You wanna sixty-nine?” He was already taking his clothes off. He was still fully dressed, in basketball shorts and a tight t-shirt that showed off his muscles, because he had gone out to a party, but Ethan was wearing nothing but boxer shorts. He felt self-conscious next to Kurtis, whose basketball-toned body gleamed in the dim light of the dorm room.

“Uh…”

“Come on, I’ll let you be on top,” he said. He laid on the narrow dorm bed, pushing Ethan over to make enough room.

That was the first time Ethan had been touched intimately by a man — Kurtis’ hands gripped his ass and shoved Ethan a few inches closer to the wall. That forced Ethan into a spooning position, his face wedged in next to Kurtis’ muscled shoulders.

“Okay, gimme your hand. I’ll walk you through this,” Kurtis said. “I ain’t know this was gonna be my role at college, tellin’ whiteboys how to fuck around on the downlow.” He laughed at himself as he guided Ethan’s hand over Kurtis’ body until it touched his spongy soft cock.

Ethan jerked and spasmed. He had never touched anyone’s dick besides his own. It was hot and throbbing in his hand. It felt huge, though he wasn’t sure it was actually bigger than his own, it just seemed strange to hold it in his hand.

He moved his hand, giving one awkward stroke. Kurtis laughed. “You gotta do better than that, man,” he said. “You would not last in my hood.”

“Is this part of growing up in the hood?”

Kurtis shrugged. “Basically, yeah,” he said. His own hand wrapped over Ethan’s dick. He laughed again, but more nervously this time. “Damn, whiteboy dicks feel weird.”

“Your dick feels weird.”

They both laughed together. Their cock were both completely soft. Ethan still didn’t know why anybody would do this willingly — who cared? It would have been more enjoyable to simply jack off.

“Alright, well, get on top of me,” Kurtis said. “Maybe we’ll be able to do it once we get started.”

Ethan grumbled as he crawled onto his hands and knees. He couldn’t believe he was really doing this. He just wanted to get it over with. His dick dangled as he straddled Kurtis’ head, hugging his ropy-muscled basketball-player body.

Kurtis’ dick lay in front of him like a dead animal. It smelled like soap and a little of sweat. Before Ethan could do anything, Kurtis swallowed his dick in one smooth motion, and Ethan let out a moan.

“Ah, shit…”

He had gotten blowjobs, but he had never felt anything like this. He threw his head back and had to suppress a scream. Kurtis’ mouth spread spit over Ethan’s shaft, which pulsated and throbbed like it was his first time getting hard.

Ethan slammed his head down because the pleasure was such a sudden shock and he couldn’t help it. But that placed his face and his mouth right next to Kurtis’ brown dick, which twitched. It was close enough that Ethan felt the heat radiating off it.

Kurtis grumbled — he was annoyed that Ethan wasn’t sucking him back just yet. His mouth was full, but he lightly slapped Ethan’s ass with one hand, while his other hand thwacked his dick over Ethan’s face.

Ethan opened his mouth and closed his eyes. It was already dark in the dorm room, so he didn’t really need to close his eyes, but he did it anyway. He let Kurtis’ cock slide into his mouth.

And, much to his surprise, it wasn’t unpleasant at all. He didn’t mind the taste, which was clean and a bit musky. He didn’t move at first, just letting it sit in his mouth.

Then his tongue moved as though of its own accord. It licked at Kurtis’ cockshaft, which twitched again.

And then, like a switch had been pressed, Ethan realized that they were sixty-nining. He was doing it. After all his anxiety over this tradition, here he was doing it, and it wasn’t really that bad.

“Aw….”

His dick pounded into full erection, and rather than resting in Kurtis’ mouth, Ethan found himself in constant motion. He humped his hips up and down, working his dick in so deep Kurtis’ throat squeezed around it as he choked. Ethan choked as well, on Kurtis’ own cock sliding into his gullet.

Surprised pleasure shot up Ethan’s spine. He had never felt anything quite like this, and he was shocked by how much he enjoyed himself. Kurtis’ cock tasted surprisingly similar to pussy, he thought. Maybe that was why he loved it.

Yo, nigga, wake up! Get the fuck up!

Was a fight about to break out? It sounded like there was someone angry out in the dorm, but not outside Ethan’s door.

Kurtis tapped on his ass until Ethan rolled over. Kurtis hopped to the door to Ethan’s dorm and peered through the peephole, angling his head the best he could to see down the hall. His dick stood out straight, its silhouette making it seem gargantuan in the shadowy dorm room.

Wake up, Kurtis! We gonna put yo’ money where yo’ mouth is!

Hey, baby!

Kurtis slid the door open just slightly, enough for his head to poke out. “Yo.” His deep voice echoed in the dorm hallway.

The guys at Kurtis’ own dorm-room door came down to Ethan’s. Ethan caught a glimpse of them — three young black men, in jerseys and sneakers, carrying a basketball as though they were on their way to a game, even though it was past midnight.

Hey, nigga, we gonna play. We gonna settle this, and we even got a reward for the winner.

Hell yeah!

Hey, baby…

That last voice was feminine, a low and sultry woman. Ethan couldn’t see her, but she sounded beautiful. He was still erect, so he still thought about sex, and when he heard her voice, his knees went weak. He clutched at Kurtis’ muscled chest for support, and his hard cock pressed into Kurtis’ thigh. That was what he needed to get excited about this, a girl. Already Ethan was imagining her naked body, despite the fact that he hadn’t even seen her with clothes on yet.

Kurtis apparently didn’t notice Ethan’s dick touching his leg, or Ethan’s hands now resting on his muscled back. “Not interested, nigga,” he said.

Yo, what?! After all that trash-talkin’ you was doing?

We ain’t even tell him what the prize is.

Oh, yeah, you get to fuck this bitch.

The girl giggled then, and she murmured something Ethan didn’t catch. Ethan’s heart skipped a beat at the thought of fucking her — he couldn’t see her, so in his mind, she was the most beautiful woman he could imagine.

“What?”

Man, whatchoo doin’ in here anyway? Who’s room is this?

“I, uh… I’m fuckin’ a female, man. We havin’ a little threeway in here.”

This is a men’s dorm. You havin’ a threeway wit’ another nigga?

“Ain’t another nigga, man. Just get out,” Kurtis said. He started to shut the door, but the other men grunted and mean-mugged at him. He stopped. They glared at each other, and the girl pouted by herself.

Ethan was close enough he could feel Kurtis’ muscles tighten as a fight almost broke out. Kurtis was stark-naked, his big brown cock throbbing, a few drops of precum still clinging to his shaft.

Finally Kurtis just shut the door as he mumbled, “Go fuck yo’selves, niggas.” He made sure to lock it, then watched through the doorway as they walked away. The sound of that basketball dribbling on the floor was impossibly loud, booming like a freight train. It stopped only when they reached the elevator.

“Alright, let’s do this,” Kurtis said. “Let’s trade anal, man. I just gave up a girl to finish this-“

“Yeah, why’d you do that?”

“Cuz I ain’t wanna walk outta there from here, they’d have found out what we was doing.“

“You said it was normal ‘in the hood’. You said it was okay-“

“Yeah, it’s normal to do it and never admit it. That’s how it works,” Kurtis said. “You gonna do this or not?”

Ethan sighed. He would have thought he’d never in a million years agree to trade anal sex — that just seemed like a step too far. But he couldn’t help but think that since the blowjob had turned out to be much better than he expected, maybe he’d enjoy anal sex after all as well.

“Reacharound rules?” He asked.

“Uh… what?”

“Do you want to do reacharound rules?” He sighed dramatically, erect cock twitching, as though everybody knew what this was. “It just means that we play Paper-Rock-Scissors to see who gets to fuck first. When you fuck, you gotta give a reacharound. If the guy you’re fucking blows his load before you’re done, you don’t gotta give up the booty.”

“Oh. I guess that’s fair.”

“Course it’s fair,” he said. “If I go first, my dick is gonna make you feel so good. I got a magic dick, man. Ask any girl I been with.” He licked his lips and grinned like a cocky jerk. Ethan was flush with self-pity — he had never felt confident he was good in bed.

“Sure…”

Then they played Paper-Rock-Scissors. Ethan, as he always did, picked Rock. When he saw that Kurtis had picked Paper, he wanted to cry.

But at the same time, he didn’t, because a part of Ethan did want to find out what it was like to get fucked. He had enjoyed sucking dick, after all, so he hoped he would enjoy being fucked just the same.

“Hell, yeah!” Kurtis exclaimed. “Fuck! Don’t worry, I’ll be gentle. I got lube.” He withdrew a tube of lubricant from his jeans that were crumpled on the floor. He squeezed some onto his cock and lightly slapped Ethan on the ass. “I been lookin’ at that ass since September, man.”

“Really? That’s fuckin’ nasty-“

“Well, ain’t my fault whiteboys is too stupid to fuck around on the downlow. Ass is ass. Ain’t no difference between a male ass and a female ass, ‘cept males don’t got tits or a pussy on the other side. Females are more difficult too,” he said with a laugh. “They don’t ever wanna have sex just cuz they’re horny. You gotta convince ‘em.” He wedged his dick between Ethan’s cheeks.

Ethan took a deep breath and bent over. He was excited about this but tried to hide it, both because he didn’t want to look gay and because it seemed Kurtis expected it. Kurtis clucked his tongue against his teeth supportively and he patted Ethan’s asscheeks.

“You seriously got a nice ass, man,” Kurtis said. “Nice and smooth. Plump. Fuckin’ hot. If you was my cellmate, I’d eat yo’ ass with a spoon.”

Before Ethan could say anything back, he felt a surge of agony like he was being torn apart. That lasted for only a half a second though, and then the lube made it easier for Kurtis’ dick to slip through.

It was awkward and alien at first, like he was being invaded, but the longer it went on, the calmer Ethan got. His ass relaxed, and soon waves of pleasure emanated from his prostate.

“Yeah, I feel ya twitchin’,” Kurtis said. He smiled like a cocky bastard. “See? I told you, I gots a magic dick. That’s why the females love me.” He groaned as one of his hands reached around Ethan’s body and wrapped over his dick. “I don’t like this part. I mean… Yo’ dick ain’t bad, but…”

“Can you stop talking?” Ethan said through gritted teeth. It felt good but the pressure was still intense and overwhelming.

It continued that way as Kurtis began to hump his dick back and forth. It hurt every few seconds, but Ethan was more focused on the pangs of pleasure running up his spine. They were few and far between compared to the shivers of pain, but they were still there, and they were stronger, more important, and just plain bigger in Ethan’s mind.

The more he got fucked, the more he liked it. His prostate tingled with every thrust of Kurtis’ dick into it — Ethan had to admit it did feel magical. It felt like a magic wand ramming into him, spraying awe-striking bliss throughout this body.

His muscles tensed, and his fingers tightened into claws. He was bent over his own bunk, so his fingernails clawed at his mattress, pulling on the sheets and blankets and knocking the pillows onto the floor.

“Yeah, man, take that shit, damn… Yo’ ass don’t quit!”

Kurtis’ basketball-toned body writhed behind Ethan’s back, his muscles tensing and flexing as he fucked. His dick fit perfectly inside him as though it had been constructed just to tease Ethan’s prostate, which it did each time it thrust into his ass.

Finally Ethan felt an orgasm overwhelm him. It was so intense he didn’t even realize at first that he was cumming first — that meant Kurtis had “won” and Ethan wouldn’t get to be on top next. That wasn’t disappointing though, even if a part of Ethan thought it should be.

Cum sprayed over his bunk and onto Kurtis’ fingers. It was a thick and copious load, with a strong smell that filled up the dorm room with its billowing, cottony scent.

“Hell yeah, told ya!” Kurtis said with a long, low grunt. He yelped right into Ethan’s ear, making Ethan shudder and clench onto the cock in his ass as his orgasm finally dwindled. Aftershocks continued with each wave of sensation deep inside him, and his cock throbbed beneath Kurtis’ fingers. Kurtis grunted. “Here I go, man…”

Cum coated his insides, great gobs of it spreading within him. It felt like a bigger load than his own, but Ethan wasn’t sure if that was real or an illusion. He moaned, and Kurtis groaned, gripping Ethan’s back firmly as pleasure rolled over his tight, toned muscles.

It washed over his insides. Ethan had to bite his lip to stifle a moan, which he thought would be audible next-door. He writhed beneath Kurtis’ body as his ass filled up with wad after wad of creamy-white cum.

Finally Kurtis was done. He didn’t pull out right away though. He paused and remained in position, resting while his cock throbbed in Ethan’s ass like it meant to stay there all night. Cum trickled throughout Ethan’s body, and it dripped out and down his thighs.

Only when Ethan thought he couldn’t handle the intensity anymore did Kurtis pull out. They both sighed, and Ethan collapsed onto his bunk on his belly.

“Hey, thanks,” Kurtis said. He stood up. He nervously bit his lip. “Hey, uh, if anyone asks… especially if any black folk ask, you, uh, you tell them that we was in here having a threesome, okay? Some girl who don’t go to school here. Say you don’t wanna tell who cuz she’s a local.”

“Oh. Okay.” Ethan was breathless.

“I’ll back you up,” Kurtis said. He paused and put his clothes on. “Thanks again.”

“Yeah, sure. Thank you,” Ethan said though he wasn’t quite sure what he was thanking Kurtis for. He breathed a sigh of relief when Kurtis finally walked out and the door swung shut behind him.

Ethan was glad that it was over, but even more than that, he was glad he had done it in the first place.