Tag Archives: gay frat boy

First-Time Jocks Get a Happy Ending: A Wrestler Tradition

Here’s a sample from the beginning of First-Time Jocks Get a Happy Ending: A Wrestler Tradition, a new story by Happiest Ending!

 

Every year, the wrestling team told their new freshmen about the “happy ending tradition”. They were told that they had to get a “happy ending” from Charlie, the team masseur and physical therapist. He used to work in a massage parlor nearby, but now just worked directly for the team. He was available after every game and every practice — and at many other times, depending on his schedule.

It wasn’t really a rule, at least not one that anybody enforced. The seniors told the freshmen it was a rule. But it wasn’t like the seniors monitored everyone’s cocks to see who got handjobs from whom, and Charlie refused to say. He claimed medical confidentiality. So no one had any way of knowing who had done it and who hadn’t.

But the freshmen only figured that out gradually. When the seniors told them it was required in September, the ones who were comfortable with it did it right away. The rest put it off and eventually forgot or pretended they had already done it. The seniors occasionally asked for updates on who had done it, but they never had any way of checking.

So when the freshman Delroy showed up after one practice, Charlie felt duty-bound to tell him he didn’t have to go through with it.

“They won’t check, man, and I promise I’ll tell them you did it if they ask,” Charlie said.

“Really? Oh holy shit, thanks, man,” Delroy beamed. His tangled mop of brown hair was plastered to his forehead with sweat. His singlet was soaked too, crumpled on the floor, his youthful muscles bulging through the fabric. Delroy was a freshman, but he had been a poor student his whole life and had failed two years of grade-school (held back in fifth and eighth grade), so he was older and much bigger than other freshmen. He had a tuft of coarse black chest hair that just barely poked out from his singlet when he wore it — Charlie fantasized about sucking on that bit of chest hair every time he saw Delroy in the singlet.

Charlie felt a pang of regret: He had a feeling he could have told Delroy anything was mandatory and he’d have done it. He kneaded Delroy’s muscled shoulders. When he gave a massage, he didn’t much think about sex, even if the men he massaged were sexy — he was a professional, and he did it so often that it didn’t feel sexy.

But Delroy had been talking about sex and generally making it hard to avoid thinking about it. His pre-shower post-practice musk filled the air, making it difficult for Charlie to focus.

“I was gonna try to find you tonight, like see if I could come to your place,” Delroy said with a groan as Charlie worked a knot out of his back. “I’m getting drunk at the Halloween party tonight. I thought I could get a blowjob from a gay dude if I was drunk.”

“Uh-huh,” Charlie said. “You know it doesn’t have to be a blowjob?”

“What? I’m not doing anal.” He scoffed.

“No, I mean a handjob.”

“Oh. Really?”

“Yep.” Charlie nodded though Delroy’s eyes were closed so he didn’t see.

Delroy fidgeted on his back, eyes closed. His fingers rubbed each other and he shifted his weight. Charlie had to suppress a giggle.

“Really? Just a handjob?” It sounded like he didn’t believe it.

“Yeah, that’s all they expect. That’s what a ‘happy ending’ is,” Charlie said.

“Oh… Is that… ? I mean, like… you’re gay, right?”

“Yes.”

“So do you…?” He blushed. “I mean… do you like… want to?”

“What?”

“Sorry, I don’t know what gays are into. I mean, dudes. I know that. Gays are into dudes. But like… do you like giving handjobs?”

“I do.”

“Why?” He laughed and blushed. He opened his eyes and looked down over his expansive chest. He still wore his jockstrap, which was dingy gray. His cock twitched. “Sorry.”

“Delroy, do you want a handjob?”

He bit his lip. “I mean… I ain’t think you would do that. I guess I thought you’d make me put it in your mouth. I can’t do that. That’s too gay. Okay? Don’t do that.” He paused. “Yeah. Yes. You can jack me off.”

Pitching and Catching

Here comes the newest story of jock erotica by Randall Eisenhorn, alongside Jake Sexton in Pitching and Catching!

 

The catcher and pitcher have an important relationship in baseball, and the relationship between Jack the star pitcher and the big, muscled catcher Seth is going to take an interesting and sexy turn! Jack is a team player, but he must go above and beyond when Seth wants to cash in on an unusual promise. Is Jack willing to do what it takes to please his catcher, including doing some “catching” of a different sort?

This gay erotica short story features baseball, hot man on man action and straight jocks going gay and loving it.

First-Time Athletes at the Massage Parlor

Here’s the beginning of First-Time Athletes at the Massage Parlor, a brand-new story by the bestseller Happiest Ending!

Chase could tell from Robby’s expression that he wanted a “happy ending”. Chase couldn’t wait to get to the end. He kneaded Robby’s taut young flesh, making him moan but stifle it with his forearm. Robby wasn’t really here for a massage, but Chase didn’t intend to quit it early.

“You can roll over,” Chase said.

Robby hesitated. Chase knew exactly why — because he had an erection. Robby’s babyface tensed up. He gasped and bit his lip. This was why he had come here, after all. Robby didn’t really want the massage, it just felt less nasty to do it like this.

“O-Okay.” Robby’s voice broke. He hated how young he looked. He was almost twenty, but he looked like he was about twelve from the neck up. He had a lean and lanky body, not real muscular — no matter how much Robby ate, he couldn’t gain weight — but plenty strong. He played basketball for the GHU team and endured constant teasing about how skinny he was. He didn’t think it was fair, since a lot of his teammates were just about as skinny.

“Do you have any areas of special concern on your front side?” Chase asked. He made sure to speak as flamboyantly as he could, to make sure Robby remembered that he was gay.

“Uh… No.” Robby rolled over. The towel covering his crotch fell off too quickly for Robby to stop it, and he gasped. He closed his eyes. He had never had a stranger look at his cock, outside of his doctor, his coach, his teammates, and various other exceptions that kept filling his mind — this certainly felt new, even if it wasn’t. Chase wasn’t even the first gay man who had seen his naked cock. But Robby felt vulnerable.

“Okay. Well. Okay. Sorry.” Robby saw his dick, half-hard, flopping against his leg. Chase avoided looking at it, but that didn’t make Robby feel more comfortable.

“You don’t need to apologize. You’re fine,” Chase said. He giggled at Robby’s awkward expression. Chase massaged Robby’s stomach and “accidentally” let his elbow touch Chase’s cock, making Robby’s whole body shake. “I think I see the problem. You’re stressed. Do you have a girlfriend? I bet you don’t.”

“I don’t.” Robby’s voice was weak and wavering. “So, like… you’re gay, right?”

“Sure am.”

“Do you know about…? Well… I know you know about, y’know… penises.” Robby still sounded like he was about to cry. Chase had to hold back laughter. Robby cleared his throat. “Like… about how, y’know… they work.”

Chase frowned. “I’m not a doctor, you know that, right? You need a urologist if there’s-“

“No, I mean… Like, if I’m not… using it right? You know about that?”

Chase raised his eyebrows. Robby peeked at him, then slammed his eyes shut again. Chase smiled. “It’s not a medical issue, right?”

“No. Well, wait, maybe it is!” Robby gasped. “Look… I… How long is normal?”

“Oh, don’t worry about size, you’re plenty big enough, you-“

“No, not that. Not size. I mean how long… of time? Like how long does sex really last? Cuz in porn it lasts a while, but they take breaks, I think-“

“Don’t worry about porn, Robby,” Chase said. “Most straight men only last a few minutes. If you can make it five minutes, you’ll be doing better than most.”

“Oh.” Robby looked crestfallen.

Chase giggled. “You last less than five minutes?”

Robby blushed. “I mean… I only, y’know… I’ve only had sex three times, okay? It isn’t, like… Are you required to keep that confidential? Like a doctor?”

“Well, no, confidentiality doesn’t apply to masseurs. But don’t worry, I won’t spread it around,” he said. “I don’t think three times is a strange amount, Robby. You’re too stressed, that’s probably why you cum too quickly.”

“Oh. Will you, uh… gimme a…? Robby’s voice trailed off. He glanced at his cock.

“You want a happy ending?”

“I mean… I just, I got this girl later, I don’t wanna… She said I was a teenager, she said I acted like a teenager-“

“You do have a bit of a babyface.”

“I know! I hate it!” Robby’s eyes opened wide and he threw his hands in the air.

“Relax, relax,” Chase said. “I’ll give you a happy ending, no problem. Honestly I’m not sure if it will fix your hetero issues, but I’m not exactly hetero-competent, so I can’t help you too much with that. Just calm down and don’t worry so much. When you’re fucking her, focus on something little — you have to move your dick, but focus on something else, something more minor, like licking her neck or her ear. Whatever she thinks is hot.”

“Ear?”

“Yeah, chicks dig that.”

“Really? Ear?” He touched his ear.

Chase giggled. He grabbed Robby’s dick, making Robby’s whole body shake and squirm. “Really. Ears.” He paused. “Maybe I’m more hetero-competent than I thought!”

“Okay. Thanks!” Robby said, his cheeks bright red. Then he gasped as his dick throbbed in Chase’s hand.

“Now hush. Let the professional do his work,” Chase said. He began rubbing his hand up and down Robby’s shaft.

Black Guys Downlow

Here’s a sample from the beginning of Black Guys Downlow, a new tale of gay black college sex!

Franklin bristled as Lamar finished his story about banging three girls at once; he disliked how much attention Lamar was getting. As soon as Lamar had been pledged into Kappa Gamma Pi fraternity, Franklin’s frat brothers started saying he was the “new Franklin”. It was just a joke at first, but Franklin found it less and less funny as time went on.

They were the only black guys in the frat. Lamar was a freshman; Franklin a junior, so Franklin should have been in charge. He was an upperclassman while Lamar had only just finished pledging a few weeks ago. Franklin thought he should have gotten more respect from the others.

But while Franklin was an engineering major from a small town in Indiana full of middle-class white folks, Lamar was a tall, athletic jock and former drug dealer from Baltimore. Lamar was smooth-talking and charming; he had spent time in prison; he had a story for every topic, and he always had an audience.

“There’s nothing wrong with you as a guy in general, or as a frat brother,” Todd, one of the frat’s seniors and the president of Kappa Gamma Pi’s local chapter, said to Franklin one morning, “But damn, Lamar is a better black guy. That’s for sure.”

Maybe being a good “guy in general” should have been enough for Franklin. He never especially wanted to be “the black guy”. He didn’t attempt to come across as a gritty thug, and while he wished he was better with girls, he had no intention of being the sleep-around playa that Lamar was. He didn’t want to seduce a different girl every night. Franklin wanted a real relationship with a nice girl, but he usually struck out. Lamar almost never spent the night alone.

One Friday night, however, Lamar did strike out. The whole frat had gone to a party at the Omega Omicron Tau house, which usually meant that Lamar and the other handsome charmers wouldn’t be coming home. They’d have found some girl to spend the night with.

But Lamar had requested a threesome late in the night, and he had misjudged the girl he was with — he had bragged she would do anything he wanted, so he felt compelled to try and push the envelope. She slapped him and kicked him out of her room, stark naked, his thick dick swaying between his legs as he ran downstairs, clothes in hand. She threw bottles of makeup at him, calling him names as he smiled broadly. He made no effort to cover up his huge cock and said, “Uh, we gotta go, guys,” to Franklin and the other frat brothers who were without a female companion for the night.

So he had actually come back to the Kappa house with Franklin and a few other girl-less nerds; for the first time since coming to GHU, Lamar was unable to get a girl. Lamar wanted to continue the party when they were back at the house, and he poured himself a glass of cognac. Franklin hated cognac and didn’t want to drink anymore tonight, so he said no.

“You a real nigga or what? Cuz I ain’t nevuh heard of no kinda nigga who turn down Hennessy…” Lamar said.

Franklin blushed and took the drink. He hated Hennessy most of all, and he hated himself for giving in so easily. He had never claimed to be a “real nigga”, and didn’t need to prove anything to Lamar — who was just a freshman, after all, a just-pledged freshman who was technically supposed to do anything upperclassmen like Franklin told him to. But Franklin felt insecure right now, about his race, his masculinity, his status as an upperclassmen and fraternity officer; he just wanted to feel like he belonged, like he did before Lamar joined.

Despite Lamar’s best efforts, there was no more party to be had. Most of the Kappa brothers went right to bed, and the ones who stayed up were both drunk and sleepy, so nothing much happened. With sexy hip hop videos on the TV, Lamar settled in, Black & Mild in hand. It’s sickly floral scent filled the house. He grabbed at his dick through the sagging jeans he wore, marveling at the big brown asses on the screen.

“Damn, I would demolish that bitch right there…” Lamar said. His hardon was evident in his pants.

“You’re not allowed to smoke in here,” Franklin said. He took the Black & Mild right out of Lamar’s mouth, and dropped it, cherry-first, in his half-full glass of Hennessy.

His heart pounded. Lamar glared at him, staring him down as though about ready to prison-rape him. Franklin would never have done something so confrontational, but he had been drinking, and he was annoyed that Lamar acted as though he was better than Franklin, even though Lamar was the freshman. He looked older, acted more mature and was seemingly superior in every way (except in math skills), but Franklin was the upperclassman, an officer in the fraternity. He was supposed to be in charge.

“What the fuck did you just say?”

“There’s no smoking in this house. It’s against university rules, and against Kappa Gamma Pi rules too. A lot of people don’t like it-“

“Talk to me about rules one more time, motherfucker.”

“I’m an upperclassman, Lamar. You have to do what I say.”

“You think I give a shit about that? I’m a motherfuckin’ nigga, boi, I ain’t no freshman-“

“That’s exactly what you are.”

“I ain’t yo’ freshman punk, nigga,” he said. “I pledged cuz I wanted to. I don’t do jackshit I don’t wanna do, that’s cuz I’m a real nigga, not some fake oreo bitch.”

“That’s me, huh, I’m the oreo? Real clever, Lamar. I never claimed to be a real nigga, y’know,” he said. “I’m not interested in a dick-measuring contest.” As soon as he said that, he knew it was a mistake — Lamar loved bragging about his huge cock, and he brought it out every time he could. This was no exception.

He flopped his dick out the fly of his jeans, and let it lay there. It looked just a bit hard, maybe from the excitement of the situation or from the sexy girls dancing on the TV screen.

“I win that contest, nigga,” he said.

“I’m not your nigga.”

“I ain’t say you was my nigga. I said you’s a nigga, but maybe that was a mistake,” he said. “You don’t act like a nigga.”

“Maybe. I ain’t no one’s nigga,” Franklin said, letting a black accent shine through (it always felt forced to him though, and this time was no exception).

“Don’t try to talk like one then. You talk like a nerd,” Lamar said.

“You talk like a retard.”

“Fuck you, motherfucker! I ain’t no retard,” Lamar said.

“I’m not a nerd!”

“Do somethin’ black then. Do somethin’ a nerd wouldn’t do,” Lamar said. He stood up, his big black cock now hanging right in front of Franklin’s face.

“No. I ain’t a drug dealer, or a playa-“

“That ain’t what I mean. I ain’t askin’ you to do nothin’ like that. Just do something only a nigga would do.”

“Fine,” Franklin said. He stood up and loosened his belt so his jeans sagged. “There. I guess I’m a nigga now.”

“Nah. That don’t count.

“Well, what then? You want me to fail a test? Not do homework and try to get out of it by calling the professor racist?”

“Nah,” he said. He glanced at the sexy girls on the TV again, and gave his dick a stroke. Franklin looked away, disgusted — he wasn’t really comfortable with male nudity, even if it happened all the time in Kappa Gamma Pi. Lamar saw his discomfort and smiled. “Swing downlow wit’ me.”

“What?”

“Come on, let’s go upstairs,” he said. “Niggas do that if there ain’t no girls around. Y’know, except for the niggas who scared they got small dicks.”

“Fine,” Franklin said. He didn’t have a small dick, and he knew Lamar was just goading him into proving it, but he didn’t want Lamar to go to bed thinking Franklin was insecure. Besides, in his mind, Franklin was just going to show his dick and then leave. He knew Lamar intended to go farther than that, but Franklin hadn’t thought that far ahead. He followed Lamar upstairs and into Franklin’s bedroom — since Lamar shared his with another freshman, Franklin’s was the only place they could get any privacy.

“C’mon, we sixty-nine,” Lamar said. He hopped on the bed on his back.

His desire to compare cock size seemed to disappear, and his hostility had dwindled — it almost seemed like Lamar only got confrontational in order to get Franklin to agree to go downlow, and now that he had succeeded, he didn’t care about anything else. Franklin took off his own clothes, trying not to look nervous. He was skinny compared to Lamar’s toned body, and he didn’t want it to be obvious how much weaker he was than Lamar. But he felt small and thin.

He took off his clothes, and swung his dick between his fingers. Lamar murmured — Franklin suspected that he wanted to tease Franklin for having a small cock, but then saw that it wasn’t small, so he kept his mouth shut. Franklin bristled with pride.

Much to Franklin’s surprise, Lamar took his dick in hand and stroked it. He guided it to his own cock, and he rubbed them both together until both shafts were rock-hard.

Franklin had never “jousted” before. He knew Lamar had — he had set up a blowbang with Todd and a few seniors, and they all said that Lamar enjoyed jousting to a weird degree. He had insisted on touching dicks with every man there. Now Franklin awkwardly submitted as Lamar stroked both shafts at once.

Then he let go. “Alright, come on, nigga, let’s do this,” he said. He licked his lips. “I’m lettin’ you be on top cuz you the upperclassman, man,” he said. “So don’t say I never shown you respect.”

Franklin nodded, too nervous to have a response. He couldn’t believe he was really “on the downlow” now; it felt like something that only happened in the movies. He swung his body around so his crotch was above Lamar’s face, and he lowered his rapidly-limpening dick until it hit Lamar’s tongue.

He instantly rocketed back to full erection as his shaft melted into Lamar’s warm mouth. He groaned, and opened his own mouth long enough for Lamar to shove his dick in.

Franklin gagged at first, then realized the taste wasn’t really bad — he had expected it to taste worse than it did. It really tasted a lot like pussy, he thought. There was a certain bitterness, and a fruit-like scent from Lamar’s soap, all mixed with the chemical rubber of the condom he had put on before the girl kicked him out, and an afterscent of cocoa butter.

“Fuck yeah, nigga, fuck yeah…” Lamar said over and over. The words were clear because of Franklin’s dick in his mouth — it sounded more like ook uhh ihha, oooah — but Franklin could tell exactly what he was saying. The veins of his cockshaft throbbed in Franklin’s mouth.

The flavor of precum rocketed to the forefront of his mind. It was salty and sweet and sour all at once, and the taste was so powerful that Franklin couldn’t think of anything else. He even forgot that his own dick was sliding in and out of Lamar’s mouth and leaking its own precum.

Then Lamar slapped him on the asscheek, which reminded Franklin he was doing something gay. He blushed and gagged all over again as Lamar’s dick hit the back of his throat. Despite his discomfort, his own manhood was brimming with orgasmic energy — this was perhaps the best orgasm of his life.

Franklin realized he was going to cum only seconds before he did. He instinctively slammed his hips down, shoving his dick all the way into Lamar’s mouth.

Then he grunted and moaned as cum flowed from his dick. It felt like an especially big load, and it coated Lamar’s tongue. Lamar choked and sputtered, but he didn’t stop cumming.

His body wracked with pleasure, Franklin moaned. He could feel Lamar’s throat tightened and squeezing his dick, which made Franklin’s orgasm continue until it was nothing more than a series of painfully exquisite aftershocks rocking his spine.

At last, Lamar forced Franklin’s dick out of his mouth. He coughed and gagged. “Damn, nigga, ain’t you been on the downlow befo’? You ain’t s’posed to nut in a nigga’s mouth.”

“Oh, sorry,” Franklin said, breathlessly.

“You best believe you gonna take my nut too then,” Lamar said. He slammed his dick into Franklin’s throat, uncaring of how Franklin struggled to swallow it all. He rammed it in and out, and laughed when Franklin’s body tensed, his limp, spit-covered dick dragging over Lamar’s powerful chest. “Yeah, swallow that shit, nigga.”

Franklin gagged as Lamar facefucked him, but he submitted as best he could; Lamar held onto the back of Franklin’s head to be sure he didn’t pull out. His small body flailed atop Lamar’s writhing chest muscles, and Franklin felt every bolt of climax coursing through Lamar’s veins. He grunted as an orgasm overtook him.

“Yeah, nigga, take that shit, fuck yeah!” Lamar said, his voice clear and resonant now. “Hell yeah, we shoulda been on the downlow since September, nigga…”

Creamy hot cum flowed down Franklin’s throat. Lamar held his head in place so he swallowed every drop, even as Franklin’s stomach roiled and he blushed with embarrassment. The taste wasn’t even very strong because Lamar’s dick shot his load deep in Franklin’s throat, past his tongue, so he only tasted it when he choked it back up as Lamar withdrew.

Franklin spat up most of the cum, which covered Lamar’s dick. Lamar didn’t seem to notice — probably because Franklin’s body rested atop his own, blocking his view, but he stroked his limp meat and wiped it on Franklin’s face just the same.

“Damn, nigga,” Lamar said. He took a deep breath as Franklin climbed off him. He waited for Lamar to get off his bed, but he just laid there, his big body spread-eagled so he took up the entire mattress. “That was good downlow shit. Fuck yeah… I guess you is a real black guy after all.”

Str8 Guys Will Do Anything in the Dark: The Halloween Frat Party

Here’s a sample from the beginning of Str8 Guys Will Do Anything in the Dark: The Halloween Frat Party!

 

Jacob was disappointed when he got to the Halloween party. Kappa Gamma Pi was a popular frat, so he thought their party should be slamming. He knew three of the frat’s popular, handsome members were there, so that was another reason to think it should have been a great party — they had friends, and most importantly, they had girls who went to whatever party the cute boys were at.

But Jacob hadn’t taken into account the ‘Gay-Halloween’ Factor. There was a gay club just off-campus that had thrown an invitation-only party. Virtually all of the college’s pretty women had gone to that party. Jacob didn’t realize that until soon after he got there in his cheesy vampire costume. The three guys were, in fact the only three there — the others had either finagled an invite to the gay halloween party or were otherwise involved for the night.

But there were two girls there too, so it wasn’t a total bust. They were Rita and Kate, and while they weren’t hot, they weren’t ugly either. The guys were talking them into playing a game when Jacob arrived, wishing that he had found somewhere else to spend the evening.

“It’s not a little kids game,” said Todd, a tall, blond star athlete with a handsome grin and broad shoulders. He was the most outgoing and popular person among the Kappas, so he was de facto in charge, or so it always seemed to Jacob. The girls fawned over him, as they always did. He wore a toga, no doubt because it allowed him to bare his barrel chest and bulging biceps.

Jacob joined in on the small circle of people in the living room. It seemed they were about to start a game, and he wanted to be involved. The girls blushed — it looked like they had a crush on Todd, so they were willing to join in on whatever game he had proposed (Truth Or Dare? Spin the Bottle? Something like that, Jacob suspected).

Rita giggled and whispered in Kate’s ear, and whatever she said made Kate giggle as well. Rita said, “Okay, we’ll play, but we’re not, uh… discriminating on the basis of gender.”

“Yeah,” Kate said, her face bright red and laughing. “You gotta go in with whoever you end up with, and that’s it. No switching or refusing after we start.”

Now it was Todd’s turn to blush and hesitate. He ran his fingers through his thick blond hair. He looked over to his other fratmates, who exchanged nervous glances. No one appeared ready to say no, however. Jacob wondered if he had made the wrong decision to join in on the game — but where would he go if not here? He wouldn’t be allowed in the gay party, and he didn’t have anywhere else to be right now.

“Fine…” Todd said finally. He tried to make it sound like he was really fine with this, but it was apparent that it made him uncomfortable. It looked like he was annoyed at having to do all this just to hook up with two girls who weren’t very hot, but he wasn’t about to fail to hook up with them.

The Kappa house often settled disputes by drawing straws, so they did that again to decide who was with whom for this game: Seven Minutes in Heaven. One of the other frat brothers pulled them out, and they each took one — there were four males here and only two females, so it was apparent that (at least) two men would wind up with each other.

Todd prayed it wouldn’t be him as he drew a long straw. He was straight, as were all his frat brothers, so he wasn’t that worried about what would actually happen in the closet. But he didn’t want to miss out on an opportunity to get with the girls.

Rita revealed her straw first. It was short, and it matched up with Octavio, who grinned like a cocky bastard as he nodded towards the hallway closet. Then Kate showed off her straw, a medium-length one that matched up with Paul’s.

Jason’s heart sank as he looked up at Todd. The girls giggled and blushed, fawning over Todd, whose broad muscles twitched nervously. They laughed at his blatant anxiety, while Jason himself cursed his luck for not getting either of the girls. Todd looked more angry than disappointed. He wasn’t often told no, and he crackled with energy as though about to punch the girls for having failed to draw his straw.