Chris Donaldson

NO, NO, NO, NOT Justin. STOP IT.

Slow down.

Back to Mr. Greek Daddy-god. Chris smiled. Now he was able to deep throat, magically. He looked up to see Mr. Greek Daddy-god's eyes brimming with lust and appreciation. Faster . . . faster . . .

The sound of the doorknob turning jolted Chris out of his fantasy. He abruptly lowered his knees, turned to the wall, and brought the towel to his greasy hand. SHIT, SHIT, SHIT, SHIT, SHIT, SHIT!!!!!!!

"Hey bro, sorry, figured you'd be awake by now," Justin said loudly, banging the door against the wall. "Sorry man, didn't mean to do that." He shut the door with exaggerated care and solicitude. Chris finished wiping off his hand, with as little actual discernible motion as possible, and tried to make one natural movement of pulling up his shorts and rolling over.

"Hey, no worries. I must have dozed off, yeah? Back so soon?" Chris was trying to play it off like he thought it was still only an hour after Justin had left, but it didn't fly.

"Dude, have you been out since I left? It's 9:30, I left almost four hours ago!"

"No fuckin' way, I've been asleep that long? You're shitting me."

"No man, I left a little after you passed out around 5:30. Man, you're a lightweight." Justin grinned, but his face had become more brittle. His eyes were harder, and his smile more set; his skin was a shade paler than when he had left. He was drunk. "You eaten anything? You must be hungry, man."

Justin opened the fridge to get a beer, and saw the pizza box.

"Oh, you did eat then," he said in a puzzled tone. "So you weren't asleep this whole time. What, did you pour yourself another while I was gone?"

Justin smiled again, but there was less humor in his eyes than before. Chris became apologetic. "No, c'mon, what do you think I am? I'm not gonna drink your shit unless you invite me, man." He smiled, he hoped winningly. He had noticed the change in Justin.

"Shit?"

There was an awkward pause.

"Knob Creek is some fucking expensive bourbon, man."

"Dude, easy. Just a figure of speech. That's probably why it knocked me out, cause it was so good."

Justin laughed insincerely. "It is good. But if it knocked you out, did you order a pizza in your sleep?"

"No dude, come on. I ordered it, ate half of it, and went back to bed. No big deal."

Justin smiled slowly, the light coming back into his eyes. He's really not that bright, Chris thought, shifting again to feign the stretching that he hoped covered the buttoning and zipping of his shorts.

"Hey, I get it man. Sorry, I'm still a little buzzed from the house. Little slow here." Justin grinned, and his eyes were halfway convincing that they were engaged in the smile. "And don't worry about it. My shit is your shit."

Chris stiffened. It was obvious that Justin was still insulted. An insulted drunk was going to be tough. Better go for a walk, let him check the level of the bourbon in the closet and count the bottles in the fridge. In an hour, he'd be fine. Or asleep. No use getting off on the wrong foot the first day.

"Hey, thanks man. Listen, I'm going to go for a walk to wake up a little bit, check out the rest of the dorm, see if anyone is around. I'll catch you later."

Chris threw off the covers, having carefully replaced the plastic jar under his pillow. His clothes were mussed, but that was natural if he had been sleeping. Confident in his subterfuge, he slid down, and walked to the closet to find his flips. He put them on, and made for the door. Justin was standing in front of it and flipped the lock.

"Huh? I'm just going out, man, see you in a while." Chris reached out for the door handle, but Justin grabbed it first.

There was another awkward pause as Chris and Justin stared at each other. Unable to maintain eye contact, Chris looked at the door, and said, "What's the deal? Is something wrong?"

Justin continued to stare at him silently.

"Dude, if it's about calling your bourbon 'shit', I really didn't mean that literally," Chris said, laughing as easily as he could through his nerves.

Justin took his hand off the handle, but before Chris could grab it, his hot, shaved-head roommate took a step toward him. Not wanting to make physical contact, Chris stepped back. He felt his dick getting hard. NO, NO, NO!!!!! Stop it!!! He screamed at himself.

Justin advanced again, and Chris retreated. One step. Two steps. Soon they were against the window, near Chris' desk. Justin opened his mouth, and Chris wondered what he was finally going to say. His roommate said nothing, and instead burped loudly into Chris' face. It smelled like onion and hamburger. Chris turned his face away in disgust, his dick wilting. Thank God for that, he thought.

"Dude, what the fuck???" Chris sputtered.

Justin smiled amiably, and put his meaty hand on Chris' left shoulder. Chris expected a joke or a laugh. Instead, he heard,

"Kneel."

"What?"

"KNEEL!!"

"Are you fucking drunk, man?" Obviously, he was, Chris could smell the booze clearly now that he was so close, even over the onions. He tried to slide away to his right and get beyond Justin to the door. It was only a few steps, but Justin's powerful arm pushed Chris to his knees.

"What the fuck is this," Chris yelled.

Justin looked down at him, smiling. Amiably had not been the right word. Contemptuously would have been more accurate.

"Cocksucker."

It was a simple statement. Not a question, not a comment, just a statement of fact. Chris knew deep inside that he had not even been able to go a day without being found out. He was scared, but decided to try and bluff it out.

"WHAT???? Dude, I'm not gonna blow you, what kind of fuckin' perv are . . ."

CRACK!

Chris raised his hand to his left cheek in a daze, the initial sting now turning into a strong ache.

"Shut up, pussy."

Justin planted his left hand on top of Chris' head, and with his right reached over to his own desk and turned on his iPod, cranking up the volume.

"Put your hand down."

Chris, stupefied, did not respond, and Justin yanked his kneeling roommate's hand back away from his face, down to his side.

"If I give you a correction, you take it, you do not resist, you do not complain."

"Jesus Christ, man, what the fuck is . . ."

Chris was unable to block the second stinging face slap, this one a backhand to the right side of his face, which hurt even more than the first. His eyes watered.

"LISTEN."

Chris lowered his eyes and stopped trying to talk. He figured he would manage not to cry, that was the least of his dignity he could preserve. The crappy sounds of white-boy Hip-Hop blared from the iPod.

"It took me about two seconds to figure you out, Donaldson. Chrissy, that's what I oughtta call you. Only real men go by their last names, not faggots. I thought you were normal when you walked in, but then I caught you checkin' out my junk and then tellin' me my girl was gonna like the look of me in my workout gear . . . like YOU did, you fag. How fucking obvious was that?" Chris' dick was beginning to harden again, despite his fear and his orders to his genitals to stop.

"You're drunk, man," Chris argued feebly, knowing it was true, and also knowing what would follow.

CRACK!

CRACK!

Chris' eyes were watering now in earnest. The pain in his face was intense -- he hoped he wasn't going to be going to class on Monday with bruises on his cheeks.

"What do you want out of me, man? I'm not gay."

A rough hand lifted Chris' chin. He averted his eyes.

"LOOK at me, you cunt!"

Chris looked briefly into Justin's eyes, and then away. Sensing the upraised hand, he flinched and looked back in Justin's eyes. There was no trace of friendliness there now.

"You're gonna service my cock just like you want to, faggot. You're gonna do it any time and every time I ask you to." Chris' hardon surged, despite his terror.

"It's that simple. Got any questions?"

Chris looked down, and sensed the upswing of Justin's arm once more.

"NO!" he yelled. Clearly this was going to be a speak-when-spoken-to, answer-every-question-promptly type deal.

"Alright. Open wide."

Chris couldn't believe what he was hearing. On the one hand, his erection was out of control at the thought of getting to see, much less touch Justin's dick within six hours of having met him. On the other, he had never sucked cock, and the size of Justin's feet, hands and bulge had intimidated him thoroughly. Since he'd been on his knees, he had not looked at Justin's package. Now he did. Justin had changed out of his earlier gym gear. He had put on a gray t-shirt, which he was now stripping off, and camo shorts. Chris looked up at Justin's chest. It was everything he had hoped and dreamed. Developed, rounded, muscular without being a body-builder, Justin had a fantastic chest and very respectable abs. No 8-pack, but his belly was firm and solid. Chris had guessed right: Justin shaved his chest, and his stomach too. There was no hair above the enticing line of his camo shorts, just the shadow of stubble in a triangle between his pecs and in a thin line running down the middle of his abdomen. Chris drank in the sight of Justin's flexed arms as he took his shirt off, and the dark and thick burst of armpit hair.

Chris' erection was undeniable now, tenting in its own small way the loose front of his cargo shorts. His head still spinning from the slaps, he began to notice another strange odor. Not a belch, this time, but something muskier and danker.

Oh fuck, he thought, is that his fucking NUTS I smell?

Justin, fully in command, flexed his arms for Chris.

"You like these guns, you dumb ho?" The wiry hair seemed to writhe under each pit as he clenched his biceps.

Mercifully, Chris' brain, gut and dick were all now on the same page. They thought Justin was unbelievably hot, and were not going to argue with the drunk frat stud.

"Yeah man, you got some awesome guns."

Justin's hand reared back again, and then he smiled. "We'll work on proper address later, bitch. Now. Get to work." He thrust his pelvis forward.

Again, Chris' nostrils were assaulted with a strong whiff of something that could only be a rutting male. Granted, he'd never been an athlete, but he knew the smell of a randy guy, from himself and from gym class. His tiny dick dribbled a bit of precum. He was at a loss. Take down the shorts? Put his mouth on the clothed crotch of his tormentor?

"NOW, FAGGOT!!"

"Dude, I've never done this!" Chris sputtered, and instinctively put his hands in front of his face to shield the inevitable blow. He sank on his haunches and fell back against the wall, under the window. He heard the sounds of the cheap dorm blinds being lowered.

He smelled the alcohol and sensed Justin changing position as his roommate brought his face close.

"Bullshit," he heard in a low, clear voice.

"I'm serious, man, please . . .!" Chris whimpered.

"Stop fuckin' around!"

Chris slumped to the floor in a fetal position, eyes closed and hands still protecting his head.

"I'm serious, Justin, I've never done this. I just figured out I was gay a few months ago, I never did anything about it except look at dudes. I'm sorry, man, can't we just forget this?" Chris was desperate for a way out, and figured a moment of sympathy, a glimpse of the easy-going Justin he had seen earlier would allow him time to sprint to the door, run upstairs to the RA, and beg for a new room assignment, or at least to sleep on the RA's floor for a night.

Justin gave something between a growl and a chuckle. "Then this is your lucky night, bitch-boy."

Chris felt the hand under his chin again, no gentler than before, raising his head up. Justin's grip tightened, and Chris was dragged up by his head to his former kneeling position. He opened his eyes, and saw Justin sneering at him. Chris' face was positioned directly in front of Justin's crotch, and he was again hit by a whiff of musk.

"Unbutton my shorts, fag."

Chris looked pleadingly at his roommate, but knew that the hard glint in Justin's eye was incontrovertible. His hands moved quickly to unbutton Justin's waistband, and his tiny dick had another spasm.

"Unzip it."

Chris unzipped Justin's fly, and without being asked, lowered his roommate's shorts to the floor. Justin raised his right leg, and Chris unhooked his right foot. He did the same with the left. There was his studly roommate, no shirt, no shorts, clad in only red plaid boxers, white ankle socks, and size 12 running shoes.

Justin's left hand gripped the back of Chris' head, and brought his face forward to his groin. Chris had stopped resisting, and was oozing precum from his trapped four-and-a-half inch penis in a continuous flow. Chris reached with his face instinctively for the obvious outline of Justin's massive cock, but Justin's hand guided him lower, so that his nose hit Justin's large nuts.

"Lick my balls through my shorts, faggot."

Chris obediently stuck his tongue out and licked the warm red fabric over Justin's testicles, and it was clear to him that the formidable but intoxicating scent he had noticed earlier was indeed emanating from them.

"Treat 'em nice, fag."

Oh, fuck it, Chris thought, and lapped tenderly and lovingly at his roommate's clothed balls. He was in heaven, and he knew it. This wasn't how he had fantasized his first time, but it was still incredible. He felt Justin's meat stiffen above his nose, and he became anxious to see it, taste it, and see if it smelled as good as his nuts. His tongue worked more eagerly, and he threw his whole being into licking Justin's boxers.

"Thatta girl." The front of Justin's boxers were now sopping wet, and his eyes began to glaze over with pleasure. Abruptly, he pulled away. The look of disappointment on Chris' face was immediate and undeniable. Justin laughed. He turned around, and pulled his boxers down.

"I know you want my dick, faggot, and I'll let you pretend it's your first one. But you gotta kiss my ass before I give it to you. Pucker up, babe." He bent over, anticipating more resistance and whining. But to his surprise, Chris leaned in and gave each muscled, awe-inspiring, lightly-haired cheek a big, wet smack, with a little bit of tongue poking through his lips on each one. Holy fuck, this dude is compliant, Justin thought. He toyed for an instant with the idea of making Chris rim him, and then decided to save it -- he really wanted to get off soon, and it was obvious this cunt wasn't a virgin, at least not orally, no matter what he said. Otherwise, he'd never have kissed ass so willingly. Justin could smell his own nuts; he knew he wasn't fresh anywhere, and if his roommate was a first time rimmer, there'd be crying for sure. He spun around, his dick fully hard, and grabbed both sides of Chris' head.

Chris sucked in his breath in surprise. Justin was easily eight inches long, as thick as a can of Edge shaving gel, veiny, and uncut. Holy Fuck. Acrid crotch sweat, precum, recent urine, and ball musk all combined in a whirlwind of scents that nearly made Chris faint from horniness. He had never known he would be so into a man's natural odors, but what the fuck, new quarter, new discoveries. Uncut made him nervous as hell and turned him on completely. He had no idea how to suck a dick in real life, much less a hooded one, but he was going to try. Like his online fantasies, he hoped Justin would be patient and slow, understanding that it was his first time.

No such luck. Justin grabbed Chris' jaw, tugged down, and pinched his nose shut. Then he thrust his enormous, uncut dick as far into Chris' mouth as he could, releasing both hands for an instant, and then clamping them down again on the back of Chris' head. Chris couldn't breathe, and started to panic. Justin thrust a bit, in and out, and Chris started to gag, his eyes immediately flooding with water. Justin pulled back until only the head of his cock was in Chris' mouth.

"Bitch! I know you can do better than that! And if you can't I'm gonna learn ya like I'm gonna learn ya to hold your liquor." Chris tried to sputter in protest, but knew he had nowhere to go. This was a far cry from the first blowjob of his fantasy. He felt Justin's dick push into his mouth again, a bit slower, but no less insistent. He opened as wide as he could, and tried to endure.

"NO FUCKIN' TEETH, YA DUMB PIECE OF SHIT!!!" Justin yelled, and Chris desperately tried to rectify the problem. After a dozen more relentless thrusts into his mouth, he figured out that he needed to curl his upper lip over his upper teeth, and stick his tongue out far beyond his lower ones, so that only lips, gums and tongue would encounter the monster cock that never gave him an instant's respite. This also meant he had to open his smallish mouth that much further to accommodate Justin's large girth.

"Tha's what I'm talkin' bout," Justin grunted, as he thrust, now more easily, in and out of Chris' slobbering orifice. Drool oozed down the poor kid's face, and his eyes were now bloodshot and watering continuously. Justin loved every part of it, knowing that he was conquering a new piece of meat, and it slowly dawned on him that in fact, he may have lucked into a total virgin after all.

"AAUUUGGGHHHHHHH," Chris gagged, and nearly vomited; Justin, realizing that his roommate had been telling the truth, pulled out again so that only his head was in the fag's mouth, and gave him a few seconds to recover. Chris widened his mouth around Justin's gigantic tool, and sucked in some air. Justin smirked. This kid learns fast, he thought, and then plunged in again with no remorse.

"AAUUGGGGHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH," Chris gagged again, but Justin loved "Gag the Fag" videos, and was not about to be put off by a little mess that he would make his roommate clean up anyway.

Chris, to his credit, held on to his insides. He felt completely assaulted and humiliated, and his little dick had wilted to half-mast (a sorry sight indeed), but he wanted to prove he was not a wuss, and that he could succeed. He remembered a piece of porn he had once read, and tried to open the back of his throat as much as he could; then, every time Justin's cock slammed in, he swallowed vigorously.

It didn't mean that Justin's head went any further down, but he sure felt it, and it was fucking awesome.

"YEAH! Do it like that, pussyboy!" Justin pumped harder and faster now, with no regard for his roommate's wellbeing. Chris, learning on the fly, felt his jaw stretch past what he had thought was the breaking point, and his face started to go numb. All he could think of was, breathe when you can, swallow like crazy when he gets in deep.

Chris gagged intermittently, but never came quite as close to hurling again. He was in it to win it. He started to get hard again.

"FUCK YEAH, you crazy bitch, you are MINE!!"

Justin pumped in and out, ever faster. Chris held his mouth as still as possible, his little cock now oozing. Justin's grip tightened on Chris' skull.

"SUUUUCCCKKK ITTT, FAGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGG!!!!!!!!!!!!!!"

Justin's feral glare, and his imposing cock, hardened as far as they could go. Chris' hands were braced against Justin's muscular thighs, and he felt them tense. Chris steeled himself for a wanted-but-unwanted invasion of his mouth with hot sperm. Instead, he gasped as Justin pulled out.

Chris sucked in welcome air in deep breaths, and then began to choke as Justin spewed his enormous load all over Chris' face. Spurt after spurt flew into the air, all over Chris' hair, eyes, mouth, nose and beard. Chris choked when he inhaled some of Justin's load while trying to catch his breath; relieved that he had survived, he reached down to his own puny cock and began to stroke it. A flash of light made him open his eyes.

Grinning, Justin was holding up his iPhone to Chris' cum-splattered face. Another flash, of Chris, flabbergasted, holding his own small, erect cock.