Tag Archives: college erotica

Masseurs Most Macho: The Handsy Coach

Here’s the beginning of Masseurs Most Macho: The Handsy Coach, a new story by Happiest Ending!

“Oh shit, lemme tell Jeremy my dick got hard- Hang on.” Donald got up and poked his head out the door. He yelled, “Hey, Jeremy, you were wrong! Hey! You are a fucking idiot, man, I told you I can get hard for anything.”

Jeremy shouted something back. Ethan couldn’t hear what it was, but it made Donald guffaw, his thick body shaking as he did. Donald was a little ruddy right now, his rock-hard dick jutting out between his legs. He smiled at Ethan.

“Sorry, sorry, that’s my friend Jeremy. He’s a prickhole.” Donald knew that Ethan already knew Jeremy, he was just explaining because he forgot that fact. It was Jeremy who had urged Donald to come get a massage because Jeremy frequently did so.

“Sure, that’s fine. Just lay down, Donald. You have to stay still,” Ethan said.

Donald sheepishly laid back down on his belly on the table. He had such a perfectly thick ass that Ethan had to resist the urge to suck all the sweat off him. Donald was a rugby player for GHU, and Ethan was a masseur for the athletic department. He kneaded the flesh of Donald’s muscles. Donald closed his eyes, but he didn’t look particularly relaxed — he looked bored, like he was only doing this because someone had told him he should.

“Hey, do you massage girls too?”

“Yes,” Ethan said.

“Do you ever massage Katie Marleywine?”

“I’m not allowed to talk about other clients. What team is she on?”

“Oh, she doesn’t play any sports.”

Ethan sighed. “I work for the athletic department, Donald. If she’s not on a team, I can’t massage her.”

“But she’s like, superhot. If you were at a party, you’d offer to massage her. She’s so hot. She’s got tits that are like… amazing.” He thought for a long time but struggled to come up with any words to describe how awesome her tits were.

Ethan was shocked that Donald didn’t know he was gay. Ethan was slim, flamboyant, feminine. He normally never bothered to come out of the closet because it was obvious to everyone that he was gay.

In actuality, Ethan should have been even more shocked — Donald knew very well that Ethan was gay, he had simply forgotten. Donald’s friend Jeremy had urged him to come get a massage because it would lead to a happy ending, and Jeremy thought it would be hilarious if Donald got a handjob from a man. His teammates frequently dared each other to come let Ethan give them rimjobs (they had no reason to think Ethan would do so, they just thought the idea was funny). Donald had discussed Ethan being gay on several occasions, so there was no way he didn’t know.

But at the moment, Donald was thinking about girls. He had Katie Marleywine on the mind, and so it didn’t occur to him that Ethan was gay. How could anyone, he thought, not think Katie Marleywine was the most beautiful girl ever?

That was why his cock get hard. The more he thought about her, the harder his dick got, until it was sticking straight up and throbbing. Donald blushed.

“Donald, it’s okay-“

Donald sat up and looked at his dick. He smiled — he had no embarrassment. “Sorry, I get hard sometimes.” He got up again. “I’m-a go slap Jeremy in the face with it. I’ll be right back.”


He went out into the locker room, cock jutting right out from his crotch. A torrent of shouts and baritone laughter filled the air. Someone screamed, and there was a loud bang like something heavy had fallen to the ground.

“Shit, get your dick off me, Donald!” Whoever it was, it wasn’t Jeremy. Ethan got the impression Donald had fallen on top of someone. He hadn’t slapped anyone in the face with his dick.

Donald came back, grinning. “He got away from me.”

“Donald, I don’t have time for you to put the massage on hold,” Ethan said. “Lay down-“

“Are you gonna jack me off?” Donald asked. He sat on the table and looked at his dick. He gave it one stroke and smiled at Ethan. “You can. Jeremy said it isn’t gay. He said it doesn’t count during a massage.”

“Oh. Is Jeremy in charge of that?”

“Yeah,” Donald said. He sounded totally serious, like Ethan should have known that already.

“Well… Yeah, okay,” Ethan said. Normally he said no to any athlete that asked for a handjob — Ethan did it if he thought they deserved it, but he said no when asked.

Until now. He sighed and grabbed Donald’s dick, which was thick and veiny. Donald closed his eyes and sighed as soon as he did, and his cock throbbed in Ethan’s grip.

“Hey do gay guys jack off?” Donald asked.

Ethan was focused on stroking Donald’s dick, so his question didn’t quite sink in at first. Then he assumed he misunderstood. He kept stroking, and Donald’s dick throbbed as though he enjoyed it, though Donald kept talking as though he didn’t notice.

“I mean do they jack themselves off? You? Do you jack yourself off?”

“What? Donald… I’m not-…” Ethan sighed. “Yeah. I’ve been known to masturbate from time to time.”

Donald blushed. “Really? It seems like, you could just jack each other off. Like other gay guys.”


“Whoever, I mean-“

“So just go out and meet some gay guys so we can jack each other off?”


“That just sounds like dating, but with more jacking off.”

Donald thought for a long time, then he nodded. “Yeah. I guess so. I just think, y’know, if you like dick, why touch your own?”

“Yeah… That’s… Sure, okay, Donald.”

“Or maybe it would make more sense to never touch anyone else’s dick. After all, if you can fuck yourself, you’d never need to go out. If girls could fuck themselves, they’d never go out on dates.”



“Girls have dildos,” Ethan said. He sighed because Donald looked like he didn’t understand. Ethan rolled his eyes. “Girls use dildos, Donald. They can fuck themselves with dildos. How am I the one educating you about vaginas?”

“Yeah, but dildos are cold.”


“If I were a girl, I wouldn’t use dildos because they’re cold. That must feel bad, I wouldn’t want to put something cold in my pussy,” he said, giggling and blushing. He stretched his muscles like he was on the verge of falling asleep.

“I don’t think… They’re not…” Ethan had to admit that sounded reasonable. Women didn’t warm dildos up, did they? They’re usually stored under the bed, Ethan thought, that’s not cold. It sounded ridiculous but Ethan couldn’t think of a reason why. “Look, Donald, if you want me to jack you off, you have to stop talking about vaginas.”

“Oh. Sorry. What am I supposed to talk about?”

Ethan had to laugh. “Donald, I’m jacking you off — stop talking. You’re not supposed to talk.” He stopped masturbating Donald’s dick, thinking Donald wouldn’t even notice because he wasn’t paying attention. But then Donald did notice, and he frowned. Ethan said, “Do you really wanna make small-talk while I jack you off?”

Donald shrugged sheepishly. “Sorry.”

Ethan felt a little bad. Donald had such an expressive face that, when he looked wounded, Ethan felt like he had kicked a puppy.

Blacks Downlow

Here’s a sample chapter from Blacks Downlow, a new story in the Str8 Studs Downlow series. This one is set at the founding of a (fictional) Historically Black College in the Deep South in the early 20th century, and it’s a hot and kinky tale of straight black men and their interracial dean!

Julius was feeling confident as he woke up on his first full day in Nashville. He had arrived late in the afternoon the night before, and was met by Winston, the head groundskeeper. He had had barely enough time to make it to the building and meet the other groundskeepers (the only employees so far), and he didn’t even look at most of the area.

Now he was glad to have some time to look around. He was nervous, even more nervous than he had been before he got married. There, the worst thing that might happen was that he’d get the timing wrong when he danced klezmer at his wedding. Now, he could get run out of town, tarred and feathered, lynched or beaten or arrested on trumped up charges.

There were so many terrible ways this could turn out. But Julius had never shyed away from a fight. The colored folk of Nashville, and beyond, weren’t able to run away from white America’s racism, so Julius wasn’t going to run away either. He had stuck it out in Memphis even when his synagogue was burnt to the ground, and he could stick it out here as well.

He decided to stop by the groundskeepers’ shack first, so he could say good morning to them. He wanted the workers to know that he trusted and loved them like a brother, even if their skin was a different color. He wanted them to know he saw them as his equals. That was why he he had decided to open a black college here in Tennessee anyway, to prove to himself and others that Negros were educatable and worthwhile.

When he opened the door, the smell of sweat hit his nostrils. There were four black men there, looking at him guiltily. For a moment, that was all Julius could see because it was dark inside and his eyes were used to the brilliant Tennessee sun. When he blinked them back open, however, he saw that all four men were standing there in a circle with their pants around their ankles.

One of the men stepped forward; he was Winston, the head groundskeeper, whom Julius had met when he hired him; Winston had hired the other maintenance workers, which must be the three men standing behind him, Julius thought. Their cocks were in each other’s hands, and Julius nervously wondered why — was it a traditional Negro practice? He didn’t want to criticize them if it was. But if not, he didn’t like the idea of perversion going on in his own university’s shed.

Chuckling to himself nervously, Winston reached out to shake Julius’ hand. “G’morning, sirruh. Sorry about this, ain’t wanna make you see it. Didn’t think you’d be in this early.”

Julius blushed. “What is-? I mean… It’s okay. If this is your way, it is okay. I don’t want to prohibit traditional practices.”

“Mighty nice of ya, sirruh,” he said. He nodded back towards the other three, who were still, unmoving with each other’s hard cocks throbbing in each other’s hands. “You want in?”

Julius blushed even harder, but nodded. He wanted to fit in with the blacks, and it seemed this was what it took. Besides, he thought, he had nothing to be ashamed of. He had a manhood just like any other, and in fact much bigger than most.

Standing next to Winston in the circle, Julius made anxious eye contact with the other three black workers. They were introduced to him as Benjamin, Chuck and Hartley. They were less charming than Winston; they were each mean-looking, boorish and proud of it, muscular enough to rip a tree out of the ground, uncultured and more than a little bit dirty.

“You think you can handle touchin’ nigga-dick?” Chuck said as they resumed their circlejerk. He smiled like a cocky bastard when Julius nodded his agreement.

It was Benjamin who stood to Julius’ left and made him nervous most of all. Benjamin was tall, bull-faced Negro with a big scar on his face and a scowl that looked to be permanent. He was to Julius’ left, so when Julius dropped his pants, it was Benjamin who took his cock in one callused hand.

Julius gasped. He had never had a man touch his erect penis before. Benjamin’s fingers were rough from his tough job, and he stroked Julius off furiously, like it was a race. His thick biceps flexed and the body heat from his muscles was intense, standing as he was just a few inches from Julius.

“Y’ain’t never had no nigguh on yo’ cock, huh?”

“No, I never did,” Julius said. He knew that was a sensitive word, and he resolved not to say it — he planned on forbidding it at the university.

He took hold of Winston’s cock with his right hand. He stroked it, haltingly at first — he had never done anything of the sort. But once he got started, it became easier and easier, and he could almost forget it wasn’t his own cock.

It even felt suprisingly pleasant, he thought, and he rather enjoyed how Winston’s lanky-muscled body shook at his touch. It made him feel powerful, as though he had complete control over Winston. His every stroke made Winston’s muscular body shake with anticipation.

Precum leaked out Winston’s cock, lubricating Julius’ hand. That made this much easier because it made Winston’s cockshaft a slippery, warm tube of meat, that actually felt good as it pulsated beneath his fingers.

Oh shit, boy, yo’ fingers is better than some cats, damn!

Chuck and Hartley both shot their load quickly, and Julius was so intent on his own dick and Winston’s that he didn’t notice until it happened. The workman’s shed filled with the sour, cottony smell of cum.

The circle tightened up, and now it was down to just Julius, Winston and Benjamin. Julius didn’t want to cum last, thinking that he would look like less of a man, so he hurried himself along. He closed his eyes and thought of beautiful women.

It was Benjamin who shot next. His big mean face momentarily loosened, and his cum flew across the rather small circle. It landed on Winston’s hand, disappearing beneath his fingers as he continued to stroke off Julius. Julius was panicking internally at the thought of another man’s cum on his cock, but he hid it because it seemed from Winston’s reaction that it wasn’t a big deal.

“Oh good, the final two…” Winston said. He stepped forward and took Julius’ cock in one hand. He combined his and Julius’ dick and began stroking them both off with both hands.

Lookit that white man go!

Julius was nervous at the realization that his cock would be touching Winston’s. It just seemed perverted, he thought, but he went along with it because it felt so good. Winston’s hands were warm and lubricated with other men’s cum, and in no time, Julius could feel his orgasm approaching.

He was astonished at how good this felt. Julius never thought perversion would be this pleasurable. His knees buckled, and for a moment, it was like his entire body was supported by Winston’s hand on his cock.

He and Winston ended up cumming at once. Julius shot a thick load right into Winston’s pubic hair, while Winston did the same to him. The cum was hot and sticky, and it dripped to the floor between their legs.

Julius took a deep breath. He was now awkward again, standing there with his dick next to Winston’s. The sweat from Winston’s chest was overwhelming now, and Julius was suddenly aware of how much weaker he was then these men.

“Whew, sirruh,” Winston said. “I’m glad you’s willing-uh dirty yuhself like this, suh.”

Julius nodded, blushing as he pulled his pants up. “I’m one of you,” he said. “We’re all equals here.”

The Taming of a Dealer

Here’s a sample chapter from The Taming of a Dealer, a new story in The Taming of Man series!

When Scott didn’t call back the next day, Vanessa assumed it was just him being a standard male. They never called back the next day. Or the day after. The day after that, Vanessa knew she should be worried, but she told herself that it was different in college, that maybe white boys waited longer. They were always concerned about looking too desperate.

But after a week and a half, even Vanessa’s most optimistic side couldn’t pretend there was a chance he might call. It was obvious he wasn’t going to call her, and there had probably never been any chance. He probably just wanted to sleep with a black girl, she thought, like he had some sort of sexual scavenger hunt and he wanted to check off African princess.

She tried to tell herself that it wasn’t a big deal, but it was. Her first relationship at college had been a disaster. She had hoped Scott could be a real boyfriend, but it seemed he had only ever been looking for a one-night stand. She should have known better.

“Hey baby, wuzzup,” said a voice that sounded gruff, yet caring, with a syrupy sweetness contrasted by a smoker’s hoarse tone.

Vanessa was on her way back to the dorm from class, and walked through a trashy ghetto neighborhood that separated the campus from the freshman dorms. There were always homeless people and drug dealers there trying to find a way to get some money out of the college kids who streamed through in throngs. The man speaking was a lean and thickly muscled black man with short dreadlocks and a thuggish swagger to his lean. He nodded at her. “You in college, sweetheart?”

Vanessa nodded back at him. She stopped walking even though she told herself she shouldn’t. She should just pass him by, like the urban flotsam he almost certainly was. She hadn’t come to college to date drug dealers. She could have done that at home — at least there, it had the fringe benefit of pissing off her parents.

“Yeah, I’m a freshman.” She was nervous and bit her lip, which seemed to turn him on. He smiled at her and touched her arm. She wanted to walk away but couldn’t quite bring herself to do it.

They started talking like old friends, and Vanessa soon forgot her anxiety. When he invited himself up to her dorm, she didn’t even think about saying no. Her roommates would be at class and other activities until late in the evening. This time, she told herself, it was different because they were in her room; she could tell him to leave anytime. The RA was right nearby. This guy was smooth and charming and not as slick as Scott was, so Vanessa was hopeful that he’d be a nicer person.

The dorm security girls looked at her like are you sure? as she signed the man in. He was sexy, but was he a good idea? It seemed the security folks didn’t think so, judging from the way they shook their heads at her when she walked by.

His name was Rashad, and he was very hot. Vanessa couldn’t deny how horny he made her. She wanted desperately to fuck, and her anxiety around being used and left behind like Scott had done vanished. The entire elevator ride up to her floor was tense and silent, as she had to resist the urge to throw herself at him.

“Are you a drug dealer?” she asked once they got back in her dorm. He sat on her bed, and she sat next to him, vividly conscious of his body heat emanating towards her.

He laughed softly. “Not everyone in my neighborhood is a dealer,” he said. “Just most of them are.”

“I ain’t ask about everyone in your neighborhood,” Vanessa said. “I asked about you.”

“And I didn’t answer.” He kissed her on the lips. Their tongues had only touched for a few seconds before Rashad suddenly stripped off his shirt.

His chest was both sexier and less sexy than Scott’s, Vanessa thought: Rashad was a muscle-bound thug with a tattooed chest that made her want to lick every inch of his body. Scott was leaner, less obviously sexy, but she wanted to curl up in his chest and sleep with him forever. They both had their attractive qualities.

But for the moment, Vanessa was glad to be with Rashad.

Despite her misgivings, Vanessa didn’t even consider backing out. She dug her nails into Rashad’s body just as she had imagined, and it felt as good as she could have hoped. He responded by howling, which was sexy, Vanessa thought, unlike Scott who had apparently though he needed to remain stony-faced.

Rashad’s muscles writhed atop her as he dropped his pants and her skirt. She heard people outside her dorm room listening at the door, giggling, no doubt making jokes about her screwing some strange thug; she should have been embarrassed, but she wasn’t.

In no time, Rashad was spreading her legs so he could get inside her.  His cock was hot and heavy, and it was a lot like Scott’s, a bit thicker but not quite as long, which was fine with Vanessa — she preferred meaty thickness over length. Vanessa leaned back to allow him in, and moaned as her clitoris came alive under his touch.

His cock pushed deep within her. Vanessa felt deliciously dirt; she never thought she’d come to college and sleep with guys she had just met, but here she was doing it again. And with a guy she could just as easily have hooked up with back at home, in the ghetto.

Baby you are so hot, I don’t even know what to do with you.

Her hesitation vanished a little more with every thrust of his hips deep inside her. He had a big cock, not bigger than Scott, she thought, or maybe only a tiny bit, but he somehow managed to use more of it. He explored every corner of her body with his cock and his tongue, and Vanessa was so turned on by it she couldn’t even speak to tell him to keep going. Luckily he didn’t seem to need her to say it.

He groaned as he approached his orgasm. His voice was low and gruff, that cigarette-steeped hoarseness making her mind roll with uncontrollable lust and passion. She loved his growly voice and the exhilarating way he plunged into her.

Here I comes, baby, you ready for it? Course not, nobody ever is.

An orgasm wracked her mind and body. Vanessa moaned, uncaring of how much her dormmates heard — she was glad they heard; they’d be jealous once they saw Rashad. They wished they could get someone like him.

Hot cum filled her up, his creamy seed spilling out and running down her thigh. She bit her lip to avoid grunting in a most unladylike way, and used all of her limbs to grip his body tightly. She threw her head back and squealed.

He kissed her on the neck as their bodies both spasmed in sync with each other. Rashad’s strapping muscles flexed all at once, then fell limp. Vanessa felt drained, like she couldn’t stand up now even if she wanted to.

She sighed and leaned back on her bed as Rashad pulled away from her. He smiled and took a deep breath. He laid down on the bed next to her and nuzzled his face in her neck. “You’re so sexy, baby,” he said. “Can I sleep here tonight? I don’t want to leave you.”

What a nice change of pace from Scott, she thought, but in this case, I’m not sure I want him to stick around. She didn’t answer, she just cuddled up with his powerful body and let her actions speak for her. He nuzzled her body.

“My roommates will be back soon.”

“Good. I want the whole world to know what we did here.”