For a week after I'd fled the scene of Mitch taking of Bud in Mitch's house, I heard nothing. I spoke to neither Mitch nor Bud, nor Chuck, for that matter, during that time. I went to a college basketball game on the Friday following that Tuesday and Bud was there and was the star of the game. He was all smiles and fluid movement and jazzed-up energy. So, no crushing experience for him there then.
After a week, I stopped trying to avoid seeing any of the three and started looking for them. In the meantime, I found I was jacking myself off at every opportunity. I was embarrassed and ashamed, but that didn't stop me from doing it and from thinking about what I'd seen in Mitch's house.
A week and two days later, there he was. I was studying in the library and looked up, almost in expectation, and there Mitch was, at the next table, a book open in front of him, but his eyes glued to me. Trembling, I pulled my books together and stumbled out of the library.
The next night I returned to the same table in the library. He already was there, sitting sideways to the table, his muscular legs spread. He knew I'd come back. It was the last thing I planned to do, but here I was. I opened my books, but my eyes were on him. His eyes were on me. He moved one of those strong, sensuous hands to his crotch and let it just sit there, cupping his power through the material of his jeans. I couldn't take my eyes from him.
A slight imperceptible smile, and then he uncoiled from the chair in one fluid, graceful moment. As he passed my table, he leaned down and whispered in my ear, 'Tomorrow, six thirty, my place.'
'Nooo,' I moaned softly back to him. But he already was gone.
'Strip and lay on your back on the bed.' The voice to be obeyed.
When I was laying back on the sheeted mattress, Mitch stood at the foot of the bed and slowly stripped himself. He was just as strong and powerful all over as I knew he'd be. Thick and long, ball sacs full and hanging low. Every muscle fully developed and taunt and bulgy. Every muscle.
'Stroke yourself.' I wrapped my hand around my half-hard cock and started doing what I'd done at least daily ever since I last was in this bedroom.
He was standing over me, stroking his own cock. Within moments we were both hard. he leaned over me and wrapped his hands around the underside of my thighs and pulled my butt to the foot of the bed.
'Sit up. Suck me.' I sat up, my face right at the level of his hard on. But I was at a loss of what to do now. I'd never done this before. I had no intention of doing anything here. I shouldn't be here at all. I wasn't staying here. I, in fact, wasn't here. This was all fantasy. I was in the library studying.
'Kiss it.' He touched his bulging dick head to my lips. Moist, salty taste. And then I was gagging slightly and having trouble breathing, as his moist bulb pushed my lips open and he was inside me, moving it from cheek to cheek, sliding back over tongue. My eyes were tearing and I tried to move my head back, off the invading tool. But strong hands fisted my hair at the back of my head and held me to him. Held there for several moments and then I felt my lips sliding along veiny, smooth skin of thick, warm cylinder, and my jaw was aching to open wide enough and my throat was clogging. I wrapped my hands around his hard, bulging thighs and started to go with the rhythm he was setting.
I heard sighing, in that bass voice. I was pleasing the Marine. Mitch was pleased.
'Lay back.' It seemed to have been an eternity that I had that thick cock inside my mouth, but it surely was only moments. As he drew it out, I closed my lips tightly over the rim of the glans and gave a little extra suck, flicking the piss slit with the tip of my tongue. I felt Mitch shudder. Good. At least I had retained that much control.
Mitch moved away from the bed. When he returned, he had a big black dildo in his hand and a tube of lube. He extracted a big glob of lube and then tossed the tube to me.
'Lube your ass.'
'Nooo.' I don't know if my whimper was audible to him, but he got the hint of rebellion.
'Do it, Now! You'll be glad later you did.'
Back in full control. Any sign of resistance evaporated. While I worked the cool lubricant into my tight, virginal ass, Mitch lubed up the dildo. He was going to fuck me with the dildo!
But, no he wasn't. He handed it to me.
'Fuck yourself with this. Slowly, shallow at first. But you'll want to open to a good eight inches of it. You'll want to be stretched.'
This was the most painful part of all. I slowly worked myself with the dildo, as Mitch stood between my spread legs, stroking his cock and pulling on his ball sacs.
'Stroke yourself. It will help.' My fist went back to my hard cock.
Mitch disappeared from my vision.
'Come over here and sit on it.'
He was in the chair I'd seen him in the previous time I'd been here. The only light on in the room was the pole lamp, its beam of light trained on the chair. Mitch was rolling a condom on his huge cock.
I cried out in first taking, in pain, and wonder, and awe, and arousal, and ecstasy, as my ass channel descended on his possessing cock, my channel stretching as best it could, caressing his cock, feeling every veiny contour of it as it moved up inside me. I was faced away from him, my legs spread wide on either side of his thighs, the balls of my feet dug into the carpet, ready to leverage my rise and fall on his impaling cock. I arched my back and Mitch reached around me with his sinewy arms and covered my pecs with his palms; his thumbs and forefingers went to my nipples, and I grunted and sighed as he started to pinch and roll them. I could feel his hot breath between my shoulder blades.
'Fuck yourself. Up and down on my shaft.' The voice that must be obeyed, thick now with lust.
Leveraging off the balls of my feet, I began to rise and fall on his cock. All of my senses going to that thick rod running up inside me, electrifying my walls, stuffing me, fully possessing me to the quick. Up, down. Groan, moan, sigh. Up, down.
I sensed more than heard the other presence in the room. Then the heavy release of breath that wasn't mine or the Marine's. A slight gurgling noise.
'Sit in the chair.' Mitch's voice. But not speaking to me.
I looked up in time to see a dark, chocolate brown, trim figure collapse into the chair by the door. The shocked look on his face. I'd seen him before. Tennis team, I think, and in a couple of my classes. Smart. Achingly handsome. Confused now, torn.
I sought his eyes out with mine. Not a warning. Warnings already useless. A sense of sharing, of inevitability. 'You're next,' my eyes said.
'Faster.' I picked up speed in the rising and falling. Overwhelming ecstasy. Taking it deeper. Moaning.
'Unzip yourself. Pull it out.' Familiar, but not meant for me.
Gasping at the depth and stretching of it. Pinching of nipples overwhelming. Up, up, and away. A feel of a sudden twitching and further engorging of the hot poker inside me, constriction of Mitch's thigh muscles under me.
'Ah, I thought so. Stroke it . . .'