The Story

The following is courtesy of a friend. ... yes...you know who you are... ;-)


Heads up!"

"Umph!" One second I was strolling along, enjoying my first day on campus--the next I was flat on my back, a constellation of stars spinning in my head. There was a heavy weight pressing against my chest and I felt little puffs of air on my face, hotter than the muggy breeze that stirred the leaves of the huge trees that bordered the main quadrangle. The weight on my chest slowly eased, but my hips were still pinned firmly to the ground. The stars faded as I struggled to focus on the vague shape that floated above me.

The shadows gradually resolved into the chiseled features of a very handsome man. His nose was long and straight, his eyes deep-set and gray, the strong jaw split by a sexy cleft. His lips were full, almost pouty, and as I watched him, his tongue flickered out over the lush curve of the lower, making it glisten. His arms were braced on either side of me, big arms, thick with muscle. Short hairs swirled around his prominent nipples and shadowed the solid mass of his chest. The dark moss gathered in the valley between his mounded pecs, then trickled in a fine line over the washboard of his belly.

"Sorry," I gasped, raising my hand, barely brushing the curve of his biceps, slicking my fingertips with his sweat.

"My fault," he replied, springing up and extending his hand to me. I took it and he pulled me to my feet. "I hope you're not hurt."

"No...not at all. Just caught off guard. That's all."

"Glad to hear it." He clapped a hand on my shoulder. "You don't strike me as the delicate type." I felt the pressure of his fingers against my skin, the heat of him soaking through my pores. My heart jumped against my rib cage. "Uh...no, I'm not. I..."

"Hey, Ramsey! Get back over here so we can finish beating your team's collective ass, man."
"Stuff it, Jeffreys. I'll be right there." He turned back to me. "My name's Paul Ramsey. You're new on campus."

"Uh...yes. Byron. Byron Wade. Glad to meet you, Paul."

"Take care, Byron. Keep your eyes open. Okay?"

"Sure. Bye." I watched him jog back to his buddies and resume the soccer game on the sunny quad. Paul got the ball and literally danced it across the grass. His long, muscular legs were tanned and hairy. Sweat glistened on his broad back and darkened the waistband of his scarlet shorts. I scurried away before my burgeoning hardon became too obvious.

I jogged back across campus to my dormitory. I ran up the twelve flights of stairs to my room in a futile attempt to exhaust myself. It didn't help--my cock was still so stiff it tented the front of my shorts, and a quarter-sized wet spot marked the location of the head. I locked the door and threw myself on the bed.

If there had been any lingering doubts about my sexuality, the encounter with Paul Ramsey had erased them. Back in high school I had eyed the guys in the showers, and I had even had a couple of wet dreams about Howie Davis, the captain of the football team, but I had blown it off as part of my general state of horniness. After all, I had laid Marsha Harrison out at her parents' beach house last summer, even if I had had to get drunk to do it. However, when Paul Ramsey had touched me I was stone sober, and my instant desire had been to have sex with him.

I wriggled out of my sweaty shorts and kicked them onto the floor. My prick swung up and pointed at me, levitating two inches above my abs. I wrapped both hands around the pale, blue-veined shaft and started stroking. I felt that touch from head to toe. I raised my head off the bed, watched my body change. My nipples tightened into two fat points, my balls drew up into a knot, the pale hairs on my thighs stood on end. I tightened my fingers, and my glans colored pink, then crimson, then an angry purple as it swelled, flaring like a cobra poised to strike.

I dropped my head and started jerking off. I closed my eyes and saw Paul Ramsey again, hovering above me, his narrow hips pinning me, his cock and balls mashed tight against me. I turned my head towards the shoulder he had touched, licked the pale, freckled skin, imagined it was his sweat that came away all salty on my tongue. I hunched my hips, pushed my fat cock through the interlaced prison of my fingers, shooting sparks of pleasure up and down my spine.The sound of his voice had been incredibly sensual--deep and rich, tickling my ears, resonating in my prick. I shifted one hand down to my balls, cupping the fat orbs, jiggling, squeezing, pulling on them till I felt a sharp ache in the pit of my gut. I stroked my prick again, balls to knob, then settled back into a steady, rhythmic jacking.

I closed my eyes, thought back to those delicious moments on the quad. I had looked from his broad chest down along his thick arms. They had been wet with sweat, the hairs on his forearms plastered flat. The hair in his armpits had been dark, curly, beaded with more of the acrid sweat that oozed from his pores. I had watched a big drop break loose, drizzle down the full curve of his chest, through those short, crisply-curling hairs, to his fat, swollen tit. It had glittered on that fleshy point, then he had breathed, expanding his chest, and it had fallen. It flashed in the sun, then exploded against my upper arm. I looked at the spot, half expecting to see a brand imprinted on my flesh. There was no mark, only the twitching of my biceps as I pumped my cock harder and faster.

I looked down along my arm, watched the muscles moving under the pale skin, saw the red-knuckled fingers wrapped around the ruddy horn that jutted up out of a bush the color of fire. I watched my prick, saw the goo begin to ooze out of the gaping slit gouged in the tip, watched it flow across my belly and down my sides. You don't strike me as the delicate type. Why had he said that? Had he desired me? Desired the compactly muscled leanness of my lanky body? Desired the unmarked perfection of my pale, freckled skin? Desired the throbbing lump he must have felt pressing against his groin?

All those speculations remained unanswered as my orgasm came boiling up out of some primal well centered deep in my gut. I tangled my feet in the sheets and tossed my head from side to side. My hips rose off the bed, my fist frozen in mid-stroke. My prick grew longer and thicker, then exploded in a pungent arc of jism that flew high in the air and splattered down against my cheek and neck. I moaned, jacked myself, shot again, this time slashing my chest with a narrow band of white. More pleasure-dazed shocks followed, beading my belly and frosting my knuckles. Then I collapsed against the pillows, panting, spent, thinking thoughts of Paul Ramsey.

I raised my fist, then let it drop to my side. I tried to take a deep breath, but it caught in my throat as I fought down my panic. All I had to do was knock. I had been invited, after all. I looked at the gleaming green paint, the brass lion with the heavy ring in its mouth, the brass bar beneath. I raised my hand again, grasped the ring, let it fall with a hollow crash."Byron Wade?" I jumped at the sound of my own name, then nodded my assent. The door swung inward and I stepped into a cavernous, wood-paneled hall. The man who stood before me was blond, handsome, expressionless. He had been on the field with Paul Ramsey the day we had met. I smiled at him, but his expression didn't change."In here," he said, crossing the hallway and opening a door. "Follow the instructions to the letter." He handed me an envelope.

"I...""No questions," he cut in, motioning me into the room. I entered and the door closed firmly behind me. I leaned back against the gleaming panels and closed my eyes. What was I letting myself in for? I had no idea what was happening--only that I had received the invitation the previous Monday. The embossed stationery had told me that it came from Calvert Hall, a mysterious club on campus that none of my peers knew about beyond whispered rumors. The club was private, exclusive, discreet to the point of invisibility, for men only. Unlike a fraternity, nobody rushed Calvert Hall. If they wanted you, they sent for you. I knew nothing more than the simple fact that I had been asked to appear for evaluation--and that the summons had been signed by Paul Ramsey. I had come willingly--no, eagerly.

I read the terse instructions, then read them again, convinced that I had misunderstood. I had not. I stripped off my carefully chosen clothes and walked naked to the closet. I threw open the door and gasped with surprise. A mannequin--anatomically correct in every respect--stood inside. It was naked, except for wide leather straps at wrist and ankle, a studded collar, and a rawhide thong wrapped around its dangling balls.

Perhaps these items weren't scandalous in themselves--although they appeared very exotic to a small-town boy whose single, drunken foray into sex had been in the Missionary position and had taken all of five minutes from start to finish. I got naked, put on the leather straps and collar, then laced the thong around my privates. My prick immediately began to pump with my hot, horny blood. I bit my lip, hard, suddenly terrified by the whole situation. I almost turned and ran then, but the lights went out and the double doors in front of me swung slowly inward.
I took a deep breath and stepped forward into a huge and gloomy chamber, lit only by flickering candles in sconces on the walls. The doors shut firmly behind me, cutting off my escape. My heart fluttered, but I resolutely put one foot in front of the other, moving deeper into the gloom. At first I saw nothing, heard only a faint rustling and the sound of breathing. Still I walked forward, drawn by something I couldn't see.

Without warning a bright spotlight ripped through the gloom directly above me, pinning me to the spot. I knew instinctively that I should move no further, so I stood and waited, hands at my sides, eyes straight ahead. There were faint murmurs, then a handclap stilled every sound but the pounding of my heart.

I didn't see them until they were flanking me, and then I could hardly believe what I saw, looming out of the gloom. Two tall men, naked, cocks erect, faces masked, stepped close and gripped my hands. I stiffened, but didn't resist them as they looped ropes through the steel rings attached to the leather cuffs that bound my wrists. I looked right, saw a lean, tightly muscled body not unlike my own, hairless except for pale gold pubes that curled around the base of a long, slender cock. His balls were fat, heavy, hanging low between his legs. To the left another man, smooth-torsoed, hairy-legged, like a satyr, his prick thick and veiny, capped by a helmet-shaped glans. They stepped close, rubbed their pricks against my wrists, up the tender
skin on the inside of my forearms. My dick began to rise.

Two more men stepped forward as the first pair faded back into the shadows. They were bigger, bulkier, hairier, both stiff-cocked and masked. They knelt beside me and looped their ropes through the rings on my ankle straps. Their heads were close to my throbbing stiffer, their breath warm against the shaft, ruffling the hair on my balls. I groaned and my cock rose higher in the air.

These men disappeared as well, leaving me alone again in the spotlight, prick pulsing, heart pounding, body shivering with anticipation. I felt a tug on the ropes, watched as my hands rose out from my sides and above my head. I grasped the ropes firmly as my feet left the floor, leaving me suspended in the silent gloom. The ropes below began to tighten, scissoring my legs wide apart. I flexed my muscles, pulled against the ropes, began to swing gently back and forth. I tensed the muscles in my groin and my dick smacked me in the stomach.

A man appeared in front of me, hands extended. His arms were massive, knotted with muscle, cabled with thick veins. His huge chest glistened with oil and sweat, and a fine silver chain ran from one fat tit to the other. I looked more closely, saw the toothed clips biting the tender flesh, felt my balls tingle at the thought. And then I saw what he held in his hands, drawing closer to the pale pink nubs on my own chest. The clips hovered near me, wicked looking, snarling, ready to bite. His eyes were on me, boring into my brain, waiting. I looked again at his chest, then down at his cock, arcing skyward, drooling clear goo like strands of spun glass. I nodded, thrust my chest out, fought not to scream as the clips bit deep into my flesh.

A bolt of intense sexual heat arced from tits to asshole to cock, then back again. My every muscle strained as the intensity of the sensations bombarded the pleasure centers of my brain. I sucked the air into my lungs, expanding my chest to the limit, savoring the cool chain against my skin. I looked at the man who had clamped me, stared into his eyes, saw a smile flicker briefly across his lips.

He faded from view and another man appeared, his palm filled to overflowing with lead weights. He poured them from hand to hand, back and forth, his eyes glued to my tightly knotted balls. He set the weights carefully on the floor, grasped the leather thong, pulled it till my asshole puckered tight. He reached down, selected a weight, tied it on the thong, lifted it, slowly turned his palm until the weight dropped towards the floor.

"Aieee!" A scream of pleasure was ripped from me in spite of my efforts to remain silent. A moment of burning agony was supplanted by a raging, almost unbearable thrill of pure sex that set my nerves on fire.

"More!" I begged. He added a second weight, then, at my urging, a third. I watched my fat nuts sag, pulled low, stretching their cords to the limit. He held another weight in his palm, waiting. I looked down, saw my ball bag dragged towards my knees, nodded one last time.

While I hung there, tits and balls and cock shooting pleasure barbs along every nerve, I heard a rumbling. A strange contraption was wheeled under me, the width of a single board, studded with plastic pricks that ranged from finger size to a wrist-thick monster that towered higher than a foot. It rolled to a stop beneath me. One of the men stepped from the shadows with a long-nozzled bottle in his hand. He slipped it between my legs, ran the nozzle up and down my crack, then pushed it up into me. I groaned as the cool lubricant flooded me, filling my tight, virgin manhole. The nozzle popped out and I clenched, struggling to keep the lube from spewing out.

I was so intent on my task that I didn't notice the ropes lowering me until the smallest of the cocks had nudged my assring and slipped inside. It was tiny, barely penetrating me. It spread my sphincter, then popped out when I tensed my cheeks, rising slightly off the board. Two masked attendants stepped up to me and began rubbing my thighs and ass, stroking the muscles until I relaxed back onto it. There was a slight tug on the chain that connected my tits and I tensed and rose again, quickly learning to fuck myself on the tiny plastic prick.
Without warning the ropes pulled me up and the board moved under me. The next dildo was perhaps four inches long, as thick as both my thumbs. I looked down apprehensively, felt it probe my aching balls. Then it touched my assring and the head of it poked up into me. I wriggled away, but the ropes on my wrists slackened and it penetrated to the hilt. I squirmed and the cock touched something inside of me that intensified the sensations fighting for mastery of me. I gasped and squirmed again.

I grunted in protest when this prick was yanked out of my bowels and I was again raised into the air. The third prick loomed, twice as big as the one before, almost as long as mine, almost as thick. I clenched my hole, bounced on the knob and slipped off. A man stepped forward, grabbed my balls, guided me back to it. My asshole clenched again, but he grabbed my tit chain and pulled me down. I felt the cock deep up in me, stretching my channel, shooting delicious sparks up and down my spine.

I mastered two more pricks, my cock dripping pre-cum, my asshole drooling lube. The final one loomed at the end of the board, horrifyingly huge, too long and thick to contemplate except as an object of perfect beauty. I knew it would be impossible, would split me open, balls to throat. I strained at the ropes, flexed my arms, held myself suspended above the larger-than-life cock.
"Stop!" A familiar voice rang out. It was Paul Ramsey. He stepped into view, naked, no mask to hide his handsome features. His fat dick drooped heavily, curving down over his big balls. I watched as he pulled the cock laden board out from between my legs. I let my muscles relax, hung limp while two of the masked men stroked my belly and my ass.

Paul Ramsey reached above his head, gripped another rope that dangled in the gloom. His biceps bulged and the muscles in his shoulders danced as he rose. He spread his legs wide, parallel to the floor, holding the pose while a third man pushed the board beneath him. He hovered above that monster cock, then dropped down, slowly engulfing every thick, glistening inch of the huge phallus.

I watched him intently, watched his belly muscles ridge, watched the intense look of concentration on his face, watched his cock stretch and rise, gradually becoming twin to the monster that was plugged deep in his hairy ass. It jutted up in front of him, extending beyond his navel to his sternum, the head as big as a man's clenched fist.

"Please!" I begged, staring at the throbbing organ hungrily. "I want it. Please!" He nodded. Men moved out of the shadows to manipulate the ropes. I was upended, feet above my head, my mouth hovering within inches of the gleaming head of his huge dick. I opened wide, stuck out my tongue, made contact. The salty goo oozing out his blowhole coated my tongue, took my breath away. I strained towards him as he rose slightly off his plastic perch, plugging his cock into me. The tension on the ropes shifted--my jaws strained, my throat filled, my nose was buried in his curling pubes.

The men began to work the ropes, raising and lowering me, pumping Paul Ramsey's long, thick dick in and out of my throat. I looked up at him, saw him looking down at me, mouth gaping, nostrils flared. I lashed the bulging shaft of his cock with my tongue as it pumped in and out of me. At the top of the stroke, the men held me, let me suck his knob, run my lips and tongue across the swollen, tender dome of flesh until Paul Ramsey groaned and bucked, fucking himself brutally with the twin to his own prick.

"I want him," Paul Ramsey growled. "Now!" I was drawn up into the darkness, somersaulted around, dropped towards the bloated, spit-slicked column of flesh that jutted up between his furry legs. Two men stepped forward, steadied me, slipped their fingers up into my asshole, stretched the puckered lips wide. Paul Ramsey pumped up, filled the gap, plugged me with his knob. I grunted satisfaction, struggled to sink lower.

"Let me down!" I screamed. "Let me down!" They obeyed, releasing tension on the ropes. I remained balanced for a second, then gasped for air as he thrust up hard and stabbed his dick deep. My aching balls nestled against his belly, crimson and shiny against his swarthy, fur-spiked skin. I looked down, watched the gap between us close until I had taken all of him inside of me.

"Fuck yourself, Byron," he whispered. "Make love to my cock, man. Fuck my big, hard prick." I gripped the ropes, flexed my arms, drew myself slowly off, then sank back down. His eyes fluttered shut, long lashes laid out on his cheeks. I rose again, higher, squeezed my assring tight around him, dropped a fraction, then rose again. His chest expanded as he gasped for breath, his erect nipples touched mine, sparking fire.

I thrust back at him, squirming and twitching as I fought against the ropes. I leaned into him, touched him, the chain that hung from my tits glittering in the hair on his chest. He pressed back, his body hard and hot. While I lay against him, looking into his gray eyes, he flexed his arms, pulled up on the rope, raised both of us into the air.

I responded, rising myself, then dropping hard, forcing him down and pushing him deep into me. He thrust again. I responded again. He thrust. Then I. And then it became a frantic match between us, groaning, bucking, howling as we fought towards orgasm, joined cock to asshole.
Paul Ramsey threw back his head, bared his muscled neck to me, began to come. I watched his Adam's-apple bob as he gasped for air, howling out a pleasure that I felt inside of me in the throbbing, flexing discharge of his prick. The thick, soothing heat gushed up into my aching channel as my cherry ass received its first carnal communion.

"I...I...aaahh!" He thrust out his belly, rubbed it against my cock. My body went rigid, then I exploded, shooting jism like a fountain held under too much pressure for far too long. My come splattered his face and neck, beaded in the hairs on his chest, slashed his washboard belly. I opened my mouth, ready to speak, when I shot again, and then again. I dangled limply against him, my head on his shoulder, my prick still pumping goo with every beat of my heart. When I finally raised my head to look at him again, he was receding quickly behind a veil of glittering stars.

When I regained consciousness, I was on a couch, fully clothed, before a roaring fire. I sat up slowly, shook my head to clear it, tried, unsuccessfully, to remember where I was, or why. Nothing. I stood, slightly shaky, drank the water in the crystal glass set on the silver tray beside the couch, then crossed the vast room towards a door.

It swung open at my touch and I was in a hall--a hall that seemed vaguely familiar, but which I could not place. And then I saw him--Paul Ramsey--standing near an open door, wearing the red soccer shorts. I walked towards him, feeling like I was in a dream.

"Hey there, Byron," he said, smiling at me enigmatically. "Good going, guy."

"Oh," I replied, weaving slightly, as though I were drunk. "Oh."

"We've got a soccer game to play this morning against a house full of frat rats. You play soccer, don't you Byron?"

"Oh, yes," I replied, memory flooding back in a rush. "Yes, Paul. I play."

"Good job, Byron. Come with me. I'll loan you a pair of shorts. You can't do a fair job for our
team dressed like that, can you?" I shook my head, then followed him up the stairs, into the secret heart of Calvert Hall.