A booster dose of alpha dick

I was in English class, listening to a boring lecture about Shakespeare when I heard my phone buzzing. I looked it up and it was a number from the 212-area code.

‘Hey Zach, I’m in town later this week. Want your boycunt stuffed? Brandon’ said the text on my phone.

I just froze. Brandon was the out-of-towner who had popped my cherry earlier this year and I never thought I would ever see him again. I had run into him at a student party, and I thought I was gonna make him dangle at the end of my 8-incher, the first guy I was going to fuck. But next thing I knew, it was me who was face down ass up with his monster pocking at my virgin entrance. And Brandon did not have an entry size model. To date, he’s still the biggest cock to ever stuff my hole. His dick was a bit shorter than my own 8 inches, but it was thicker than a Red Bull can. Brandon looked like he had stepped out of a photo shoot that evening. He had a thick trimmed beard and was wearing a flannel shirt that made him look like a fucking lumberjack. You could see his chest hair poking out of his shirt and it drove me crazy throughout the whole party. I couldn’t take my eyes off him. He was a textbook alpha male. In hindsight, I don’t know how I ever thought I was going to be the one mounting him. What was I thinking? And to top it all, he had the most amazing blue eyes, which contrasted with his otherwise Mediterranean look. Fuck, he was hot! And he was my first.

After reading his text, my heart started racing at 200 bpm. I was almost hyper ventilating. And within seconds of receiving his text, I had a raging hardon and had to readjust my dick inside my boxer briefs to give my 8 inches room to grow. I could not comprehend how he managed to get my number. At first, I thought it was one of my frat brothers playing a prank on me. But how could they have pulled off the 212-area code? None of my bros were from New York.

‘How did you get my number?’ I texted back.

‘I’m just resourceful’ he replied, with a wink emoji.

‘How do I know you’re not one of my frat brothers playing a prank on me?’ I asked.

My phone went silent for a couple of minutes until I received a dickture. And I recognized that dick. It was Brandon’s. I could have picked it in a line-up of a million dicks. How could I forget the monster that tore my virgin hole apart, but also introduced me to the amazing pleasure of having my G-spot hammered over and over again?

My dick was now harder than steel and leaking precum like a fountain. Luckily, I was sitting in the back row of the auditorium, and I didn’t have any immediate neighbor. I ended up collecting some of my precum with my fingers and brought it to my mouth, closing my eyes, and pretending it was Brandon’s.

‘I’m in!’ I texted back, knowing that soon, it was he who would be in.

When I met Brandon at the student party, he was visiting Ann Arbor as part of his law firm’s recruiting effort. He was probably coming back this time to interview candidates since we were in the middle of interviewing season.

The two days leading to our encounter were the longest two days of my fucking life. I was hard all the time in anticipation of our fuckfest, but I didn’t want to relieve any pressure because I wanted to save myself for Brandon. I must have leaked enough precum to fill an Olympic swimming pool and I went through six pairs of underwear and… an entire box of tissues.

I spent the next 48 hours looking at my phone every two minutes, hoping the clock would run faster if I did that. I paced in my room like a tiger in a cage, wondering what I should wear, what he would be wearing, how much cologne I should wear, boxer briefs, jockstraps, or commando, those sorts of things. I managed to calm my nerves by spending even more time at the gym than normal and I found enough motivation to bench even harder. I wanted Brandon to see me more ripped than Mr. Universe. I put my baseball cap on, vizor in the back, the same cap he had asked me to keep on when he took my virginity.

I knocked on the door of his hotel room, and Brandon opened the door for me. He was shirtless, with just a pair of jeans on. My jaw dropped when I saw him. He was just as gorgeous as I remembered. The darkness of his chest hair covering his entire stomach contrasted with his white skin. His chest hair was longer than I remembered. He must have let his winter coat grow. His hair was particularly thick in-between his muscular pecs. At this time of the year, he probably didn’t spend much time outside shirtless, and his skin was not as dark as last time I saw him. But he was still fucking hot, like a Greek god or something.

As soon as he had closed the door, he jumped on me, pinned my back against the wall, and his mouth started attacking mine. He was like a lion who had been fed yogurt for a week and was finally thrown a T-bone steak to devour. Even though I knew he was a dominant alpha, the brutality of his attack still caught me by surprise. It was on! If there was any doubt I was gonna be roughed up by a stronger male, that doubt had dissipated the instant I walked in his hotel room. We made out for what felt like an eternity, his beard and stache setting my smooth skin on fire. My little chin puff provided no protection against his coarse hair. The thickness of my tongue had probably shrunk by half with all the wear and tear from making out.

We stopped kissing, and he looked me in the eyes, his beautiful blue eyes that made me melt every time. I could see fire in his eyes. I could see passion. I could see hunger. I felt like a little child in front of an ogre, knowing that being devoured was the only possible outcome. It scared me a little and I felt my hole squeeze in my boxer briefs. But it was exhilarating at the same time.

Without saying a word, he looked me up, then looked down towards his crotch, then looked back into my eyes, kind of signaling ‘What are you waiting for?’ I got the memo and got down on my knees in front of him. I was at eye level with the zipper of his jeans, something big and hard poking on the other side of the fabric. Although no word was being exchanged, I knew exactly what he wanted. It was like he was ordering me with his piercing blue eyes. And I was willing to obey.

My ex-boyfriend Drew had managed to make me submissive. But Drew asserted his dominance over me through his verbal orders. He acted so dominant that I submitted to him the first time we met. But Brandon didn’t even need to assert his dominance. He WAS dominance. And I was even more submissive to him than to Drew, without him even asking, as if I intuitively knew where I belonged.

I brought my hands to his waist, opened the top button of his jeans, and lowered the zipper, and his pants dropped to his ankles. Brandon was free balling, and I was now faced with his weapon of mass destruction, the one that had destroyed my ass virginity, the one that had destroyed in a few short minutes the dominant personality I had built over the past seven years, and the one that was about to destroy the last ounce of dominance I still had flowing through my veins. It was big, just as thick as I remembered, growing out of a thick dark bush slowly morphing into a nice treasure trail up to his bellybutton. His dick hair was dense. Even though Brandon had manscaped, you couldn’t see his skin underneath his coarse pubes. My ex Drew only had a little bit of fuzz around the base of his cock, just an inverted triangle of light curly brown hair. Mine was the same way but in blond. But Brandon’s pubes were so dense that his hairs didn’t even have room to curl, like a crowd of commuters packed in a subway car during rush hour. And it was dark too. Although his treasure trail morphed out of his pubes, you could still make out the delineation between the two. His treasure trail was not as coarse as his pubes. It was a light velvety fur just south of his belly button. Above his belly button, a thin line of dark hair continued up north, covering his washboard abs and getting thicker in the crevices of his 6-pack, connecting his treasure trail to his dark chest hair. Brandon was the definition of masculinity. And his club was bouncing in front of my nose, set in motion by the blood being pumped with every heartbeat.

Even though he had just showered, I could smell Brandon’s manly musk eight inches away from my nostrils. There wasn’t enough scented soap in all of Michigan to cover the manliness evaporating from his thick pubes. A potent mix of dick, sweat, and pheromones, or whatever the fuck real men excrete through their pores.

His cock was already fully hard, waiting for my lips to engulf it. Brandon grabbed the base with his right hand, put his other hand on the back of my baseball cap, and gave me a hard smack in the cheek with his baton. He then brought the tip to my mouth, and I parted my lips.

I had barely wrapped my lips around the first two inches of his fuck tool that Brandon brought his hands to the back of my head, and holding my head steady with his strong hands, started pushing his Italian sausage deep inside my mouth. Even though I knew it was coming, I was not ready for the brutality of his assault. His big fat schlong hit the back of my throat and started drilling my mouth like a jackhammer. Spit was slobbering out of my mouth like a St. Bernard that had just been chasing a squirrel in the backyard. But my gagging didn’t stop Brandon. He didn’t give a fuck. He always got what he wanted. He was here to show me who was in charge and needed to get serviced by a pliable toy boy. And that pliable toy boy was named Zach.

He grabbed me by my armpits and lifted me back up. He grabbed my T-shirt and pulled it over my head, repositioning my baseball cap back on my head afterwards. I was now shirtless in front of him. My smooth, pale stomach facing his manly hairy chest. The chest hair I knew I’d never be able to grow. I could almost have creamed my pants just looking at his amazing body. And he went back to attacking my mouth with his tongue. Although I had been madly in love with Drew and had received great pleasure from his horse cock, part of me had been craving for a real man all along, a taller guy, a muscular guy, a hairy guy. And here was Brandon, standing in front of me in all his maleness.

Brandon pulled down my sweatpants and underwear in one brisk move, freeing up my hard cock, which had been stretching my boxer briefs on the side of my hip, desperate to see daylight. My hard dick sprung out, smashing against my hard abs before settling at a nice 150-degree angle. Brandon grabbed both our fuck tools with his right hand and started rubbing them against one another. The palm of his hand was wrapped around my dick while the tip of his thumb and middle finger held his own shaft. The way he was holding our two dicks together and rubbing them against one another, I was forced to feel how much thicker his fuck tool was and how much skinnier mine was in comparison. In a weird way, the humiliation of having a skinnier dick turned me on, as it reminded me, if I ever needed it, that I was about to get fucked by a real man.

While he was busy rubbing our two dicks together, my hand started wandering into his chest hair, feeling his hard muscles underneath. The feeling of his thicker cock rubbing against my skinnier one and the feeling of his furry stomach in front of my smooth one made me lust for his monster to ravage my eager hole.

Without saying a word, he turned me around and bent me over, my forearm now pressed against the wall, and my bare ass sticking out for him to take. Even though the hotel room was at a comfortable temperature, I still felt the cold breeze on my exposed rosebud, as if I was standing naked on top of a cliff facing the ocean, about to get pushed down to my freefall.

Brandon went down on his knees, and I felt his hands parting my ass cheeks and his warm tongue brushing on my hole, which made me gasp. The sensation of his tongue on my sensitive pucker felt amazing. My hole opened up within seconds, as if it knew any resistance would be futile. My hole had no reason to resist anyway as I was craving his monster inside me. Brandon was able to stick his tongue deep in my ass, circling around my sensitive ring from the inside, getting it wet and prepped for the main course.

When he saw I was getting lost in pleasure, his tongue setting my nerve endings on fire, Brandon spread my ass cheeks even further, exposing my gaping hole in an obscene way. And he brought his chin to my hole, rubbing the coarse hair of his beard on my sensitive skin. In an instant, I went from pure pleasure to sharp pain, as the short hair of his stubble was sandpapering my sensitive tissues. But strangely enough, the pain turned me on, big time! Knowing that he was in charge and could transition from pleasure to pain at will, without me having any say in the matter, felt incredibly erotic.

He went back to licking my hole with the tip of his tongue and the transition back from pain to pleasure raised my pleasure-o-meter to levels never reached before. It made me think of the joke of the guy who liked being hit on the head with a mallet because it felt so good when it stopped. Although I was trying to keep my jock voice low, I just couldn’t. Brandon’s expert tongue made me whimper like a soprano. And I’m not talking Tony Soprano. I’m talking Ave Maria soprano. What a sight that must have been! A 200-lb muscular jock, his legs wide open, whimpering like a little girl from his hole being opened by an alpha.

While he was still licking my ring, Brandon grabbed my ball sack with his fingers, forming a circle between my balls and the base of my cock. And he pulled on my jock balls, a little at first, but a bit more with each pull. I’m painfully aware I don’t have the biggest balls. My balls are probably half the size of his. And they normally stay close to my body. They only hang low when I’m in a steam room or in a hot tub. So, even the slightest pull results in pain. Brandon knew it, but he didn’t give a fuck. He was the man in charge.

Once he had created enough separation between my balls and my body, forming the tightest circle with his fingers, Brandon started tapping my sensitive balls with his other hand. This made me gasp, as my balls were now feeling pain from both sides. I started sweating, droplets of salty fluid forming on my forehead. My armpits were also wet like marshland, letting out a strong stench that filled up my nostrils. But for some reason, my sweat didn’t smell like Brandon’s. It smelled more boyish, just not as musky as his alpha sweat.

Even though no word was coming out of his mouth, I could clearly hear what Brandon was thinking. ‘We’re going to milk these puppies’ was what he was thinking. And my puppies couldn’t wait to be milked, whichever way he wanted to.

Not knowing what pain level he’d be willing to inflict on me and which new torture mechanism he would come up with next kept me on edge. But the humiliation of being his thing also made me hornier than a rooster in a henhouse, a gay rooster that is. And the amount of sweat in my armpits was only surpassed by the amount of precum leaking out of my piss slit.

While he was expertly rimming my hole, making me weak in the knees, I heard him search for something in the front pocket of his jeans. And a few seconds later, I heard the familiar pop of a lube bottle being opened, and I felt the cold gooey liquid on my opening, which he pushed in with his fingers. Brandon had no problem inserting one and then two fingers in my eager hole. The third one faced a little bit more resistance, but he twisted his three fingers inside my hole, scissoring my entrance, opening me up for something much thicker coming my way. I was whimpering like a little bitch, just from his fingers grazing my love nuts inside my hole. My hard dick was leaking even more precum onto the floor underneath me.

Brandon got up and placed his club behind me. And without any word having been exchanged between us, he entered me in one long push, like I was his for the taking. In all honesty, I had been all along. His cock opening me up felt very different from my ex-boyfriend Drew. I often joked that Drew had a horse cock, partially because Drew’s cock was really thick, but also because it looked so big in comparison to his twinky body. Drew’s cock also had the shape of a horse cock, with a nice mushroom head and a constant girth throughout, like a giant cylinder. Drew’s cock was also a dark purplish brown that contrasted with his pale body. When Drew penetrated me, I could feel his big mushroom head opening me up, scraping my inner walls along the way. And after that, the rest of his pole slid right in, filling me up inch after inch.

Brandon’s cock felt very different. Even though it was even thicker than Drew’s, it had a pointy arrowhead that broke through my hole easily, without the initial pop that Drew’s helmet would make. But Brandon’s cock would become thicker and thicker with every inch, progressively enlarging my ring as it penetrated deeper inside my hole, stretching me further and further. As I was facing the wall, Brandon taking me from behind, I had no clue how much more dick he still had and how much more stretching my hole would endure. Only when I felt his thick pubes on my smooth ass did I know that I had taken all of him, and my hole wouldn’t be stretched any further. By that time, my ring had been enlarged beyond its breaking point and my inner walls had been pushed back to make room for his girth.

Brandon fucked me hard and fast. My whole body shaking under the assault, only staying still thanks to my forearms pressing against the wall in front of me. Brandon eventually grabbed my shoulders, his fuck tool still lodged deep inside my ass, and raised my torso. He held me still with his hands groping my pecs, and he brought my hands behind him, making me grab his hairy ass cheeks for support. As he moved my upper body closer to his, I could now feel his chest hair rubbing against my smooth back and his beard scratching my left shoulder as he kissed the side of my neck, setting my sensitive skin on fire. Everything about his hair against my smooth body, while his thick cock was foraging inside me, reminded me of how masculine and dominant he was, and how I wasn’t.

My 8-incher was waving in front of me, like a wavering sword, but only set in motion by the rhythm of Brandon’s cock punishing my hole. My hard dick was hitting my hips and my abs with every pounding of my ass. Even though my dick was not being touched, I could feel my orgasm rise inside me. Brandon must have sensed it or maybe he heard my breathing intensify. In one abrupt thrust, he pulled out of me, making my inner walls retract to their initial position before the invasion began. The feeling of sudden emptiness was the most bizarre thing I had ever experienced, as if my guts had been vacuumed out of my hole.

Without saying a word, Brandon grabbed my left hand and guided me toward his bed. He laid me on my back, my ass hanging off the edge of the bed, and he folded me in an L shape, with my legs straight up and my ankles around his ears, while he was standing on the side of the bed. And in one thrust, he reentered me, giving my hole the stuffing it had been craving since having been emptied out a minute ago. Holding my ankles with his hands, Brandon started railing me again, long-dicking me, with his arrowhead fully exiting my hole, but his pole being rammed right back inside me. My ring had been enlarged so much by his massive girth that it didn’t even seal shut between each reentry.

My poor prostate was being flattened out by his monstrous girth, as if a steamroller was being driven through my inner walls, over and over again. When Drew was fucking me, the ridge of his helmet would rub against my G-spot, and it was the rubbing that would set my love nuts on fire. But with Brandon, my G-spot was being flattened as the girthiest part of his cock would just push it aside, his fuck tool filling every empty nook inside my mancave. My prostate would pop back up when Brandon’s cock exited my hole, only to be flattened again with his next thrust in, like a clownfish sticking its neck out of its anemone to check its surroundings, only to hide right back at the sudden appearance of a moray eel, forcing it to seek refuge.

I felt my orgasm rise again, and I brought my right hand to my overexcited dick that was begging for release. But Brandon grabbed my wrist with his hand and pushed my arm back on the bed cover. With his other hand, he slapped me in the face, hard!

‘What’s up with me not being allowed to touch my own dick?’ I thought to myself as Drew never allowed me to touch my dick either.

I could see the anger in Brandon’s eyes, like if I had been a defiant slave that had disobeyed his master’s orders and needed to be put back in his place. Without even saying anything, he made it crystal clear that he was in charge, and I wasn’t allowed to control the timing of my own pleasure. I brought my hands closer to my nipples, hoping Brandon would allow me to fondle them, and wouldn’t slap me in the face again. Luckily, he didn’t stop me. And I started playing with my sensitive nipples while he kept ploughing my ass.

Brandon grabbed both my ankles and spread my legs apart, now forming a giant V, with my hole even more at the mercy of his massive schlong. With his arms extended while holding my ankles, I now had a nice view of his hairy armpits, in addition to his hairy chest, and his thick beard. The sweat in his armpits was forming wet locks of dark hairs. He was the real man, and I was his toy boy. His heavy balls, full of alpha juice, were waving in-between his legs, banging against my ass every time he bottomed out. I stopped fondling my nipples and extended my arms in front of me to allow my hands to forage into the forest on his chest, groping his muscular pecs underneath, his chest hair that drove me wild, the chest hair that Drew didn’t have and that I’ll never have either. By touching his manly mat, I was soaking in his masculinity. Brandon let go of my legs, which continued to float in the air on their own, in the exact position he had left them. And he placed his hands behind the back of his head, fully exposing his hairy armpits. And he fucked me hard, with only his monster cock touching me.

I was feeling his chest hair in the palm of my hands, watching the determination in his eyes, and feeling his hard cock stretching my ring, filling up and emptying my boycunt, his moray eel beating up my clownfish, an alpha male dominating me in every way possible. And that did it for me as I felt my orgasm rush through my body for the third time, without my dick being touched. The smell of sweat in the room was intoxicating, his manly sweat easily overpowering my boyish one. The continuous stimulation of his monster hammering my G-spot, the humiliation of being dominated by a stronger man, and not just any man, the hottest guy I had ever laid my eyes on were enough to push me over the edge.

‘Yeah! Breed me! Flood my cunt with your alpha juice!’ I thought to myself. I was too embarrassed to say it out loud, but that’s exactly what I was thinking inside. And I’m sure he knew it too.

A jolt of lightning travelled up and down my spine, sending my brain into overdrive and my cock into nuclear fusion. I felt my boyjuice boiling inside my balls, and without anything I could do about it, my hard cock started throbbing uncontrollably, like a body convulsing in an exorcist movie while I screamed: ‘Fuck! Fuck! Fuuuaaarrrggghhh!’. And a big volley of spunk erupted out of my dick, landing on my forehead, with more volleys landing on my shoulders, my smooth pecs, and my neck, like a high-pressure hose on the loose, spraying soapy water all over the place, while I was grunting like a wild boar, my eyes rolling inside my fucking skull.

I had heard about cumming hands-free. I had seen it in porn movies I watched. But I always thought it was a myth. How could it be possible? My dick had sprayed its cream thousands of times before, but it had always been from being stimulated by my hands, left or right, or a pair of lips, oral or vaginal. But I had never had my dick reach nuclear fusion from a sensory overload elsewhere in my body. Cumming handsfree is probably the biggest fantasy of any bottom, and the biggest power trip of any top, to be able to make his bottom jizz without any physical stimulation of his dick. But it certainly had never happened to me before, and it just felt surreal! I was cumming from having a stronger dick filling up in my hole… just like a girl!

Drew had desperately tried to make me cum hands-free. It was like he had been on a mission. He once told me that was the main reasons why he wouldn’t let me touch my own dick when he was railing me. But Drew never could do it, despite his girthy tool. I think that frustration was one of the reasons behind our breakup. But Brandon managed to do it. I could see a devious grin on his face, his eyes filled with pride when he saw the first rope gushing out of my untouched dick, the pride of a mission accomplished, the pride of being a member of a select club that very few men get admitted into, the pride of being in full control of a weaker man, the pride of being a true alpha male.

Once he had finished me off, Brandon was ready to cum as well. His beautifully choreographed fucking until now became more erratic, although it became even more intense, if that was even possible. And I watched him move his head back, close his eyes, open his mouth, and let out a loud groan as I felt his big cock throb in my battered hole as he pumped his man juice inside me. I was being bred by the most potent substance on earth: the semen of an alpha male.

After he was done shooting in my ass, Brandon exited again, this time for good. I felt empty again, but not before having experienced the strangest orgasm of my life. So much alpha juice had been pumped inside my hole that a little bit dripped out when Brandon pulled out. But I sealed my hole shut, or at least as shut as my permanently damaged ring would allow me to, trying to retain as much of him inside me, hoping his DNA would sip into me and make me more like him.

Brandon went to the bathroom and grabbed a towel. I watched his ass cheeks bounce with every step, and watched him walk back into the bedroom, his chest hair shining from all the sweat coating it, his fat cock still chubby, waving in-between his hairy legs.

Brandon threw the towel over my head like if he was throwing a football. I extended my arm above me to catch it in the air and I sponged out the mix of sweat and cum on my chest and abs… and my cummy forehead. When I was finished, I threw the dirty towel on the floor next to the bed and I just laid there, relaxed, spent, filled with cum, my softening dick resting on my hipbone.

Brandon stared at me with a look of satisfaction on his face, like a hunter who had just shot a 10-pointer to add to his trophy count. And he put his Calvin Klein briefs on. He looked incredible in them, his still chubby cock and his big balls forming a nice bulge in the front pouch. If someone had photoshopped his picture on the original packaging, Nordstrom would have run out of stock within the hour. Watching him standing there in all his glory filled me with pride. Brandon could fuck any guy he wanted. He could have gone to the Quad in the middle of campus, holding a cardboard sign over his head, like this guy on Instagram, a sign that said: ‘I fuck dumb jocks!’ and a mile-long line of hungry bottoms would have formed, eager to be bred by his monster cock. But he picked me. He picked me. He went through the effort of finding my number. I still don’t know how, by the way. And I managed not to disappoint him. He certainly didn’t disappoint me.

I got up, grabbed my stuff on the floor and got dressed. Brandon, still in his CK briefs, grabbed the small of my back with his strong arm, and pulled me in for a long passionate kiss, like Humphrey Boggart kissing his woman in a black and white movie, me tiptoeing to try to reach his lips three inches above mine.

‘Thanks’ I said. The first word exchange between us since I walked in.

Brandon didn’t say anything back. He just smiled at me. But his smile meant more to me than a thousand words. And I left his hotel room.

I tried to check my phone in the elevator, but I lost the signal. When the elevator doors opened on the ground floor and I got my signal back, there was a text on my phone with just a red heart emoji.

Even though I had a sore ass and was fighting hard to not let cum drip out of my hole while walking, I never felt better on my way back to the frat house.

‘You look very happy, Zach!’ one of my bros said once I got back to the house. ‘Did your pussy just get destroyed?’ he joked.

If only he knew!

‘Yup!’ I just replied with a smile. That was the best fucking day of my life!