All events and characters in this story are fictional. This chapter serves to further set up what an asshole Matt is. I was originally going to have Matt’s downward spiral start in this chapter, but it turned out to be too long (like, 35,000 words), so I split it into three more chapters. So, it may be another couple of chapters until Matt starts his penance.
MATT’s PERSPECTIVE
My alarm blared at 7 a.m., yanking me out of a dead sleep like a slapshot to the gut. Fuck. Saturday morning conditioning. Coach always scheduled these early-ass sessions thinking it’d keep us from raging too hard the night before. Yeah, right. Like that ever worked on a bunch of hot blooded, college hockey players.
I groaned, rolling over in my tangled sheets, my head fucking POUNDING from the vodka…and whatever else I’d pounded last night. My cock twitched at the memory. Chase’s tight hole, his sexy little moans. Shit, where was that slut now? I remember I’d left him to the wolves downstairs, but damn, I could’ve gone another round.
I grabbed my phone off the nightstand, squinting at the screen. A shitload of texts had blown up my notifications overnight: group chat from the bros, probably vids of them wrecking Chase after I bailed. I smirked, thumbing through a few previews. Yup, looked like Doug and the crew had turned him into a total cumrag. Good. The kid needed breaking in. But first things first…I spotted Chase’s clothes scattered on my floor from where I’d stripped him last night. His jeans, and that form-fitting tee that hugged his sexy wrestler bod just right.
I scooped them up in a bundle, figuring I’d track him down and toss ’em at him. Do the guy a little solid, ya know. Maybe wake him up with a morning fuck if he was still loopy from whatever Doug spiked him with.
The frat house was a disaster zone as I padded downstairs in my boxers, the stench of stale beer and sweat hitting me. Empty cups everywhere, a bra dangling from the banister. typical post-party apocalypse. I poked my head into the living room, the basement door, even the kitchen. No sign of the bitch. Finally, I hit the bathroom on the first floor, the one with the big tub we used for… well, whatever.
The door was cracked, and there he was: Chase, passed out cold on the tile floor, face down, ass up like he was begging for it even in his sleep. His plump bubble butt cheeks were spread just enough to show off that wrecked hole, crusted with dried cum. More jizz matted his light brown hair, streaking down his back and thighs. Fuck, he looked used. Destroyed. And hot as hell.
I could still see written on his back: PROPERTY OF MATT ADAMS. I felt a swell of pride and my dick twitched a bit thinking about how everyone who fucked Chase last night knew I was the one who bitched him out.
I tossed Chase’s clothes in a pile next to him, a soft thud echoing. He didn’t stir. I stepped closer, my eyes raking over that sexy, muscular, toned athletic body—5’10 of prime wrestler meat. Covered in dried sweat and cum. What a whore.
His handsome face was smushed against the floor, those normally piercing blue eyes now shut, lips parted like he was still gagging on cock in his dreams. Dried cum flaked off his skin everywhere—chest, abs, even his calves. And the smell… shit, I could smell last night’s sex from standing up here.
Not just cum, but that musky, rank dude scent. Armpits. Balls. I leaned in, sniffing his hair, his neck. Yeah, the guys must’ve rubbed their sweaty pits and sacks all over his pretty face, marking him like territory. My cock hardened in my boxers, tenting out as I imagined it…Jimmy’s hairy pits grinding into Chase’s cheeks, Andre’s musky fur smothering him. Fuck, that got me going.
I pulled out my phone, snapping a quick pic of him like that: ass up, cum-covered, totally owned. For the collection. Then I opened one of the vids from the group chat, hitting play with the volume low. It was a clip of the gangbang: Chase on his knees, mucus running down his face as Vince face-fucked him brutally, the others cheering while Vince farted on his tongue mid-rimjob.
“Beg for it, fag,” Doug’s voice snarled in the video. Chase’s loopy, drugged moans filled the air—“Please… fuck me… need it…” Holy shit. My hand dipped into my boxers, stroking my rock-hard cock as I watched. The kid was broken, humiliated, and it turned me on like nothing else. I jacked faster, eyes locked on the real Chase passed out in front of me, his handsome face so innocent-looking despite the crusty cum.
It didn’t take long—I aimed and blew my load right on his unconscious mug, ropes of hot jizz splattering his cheeks, lips, even his eyelashes. He twitched a little but didn’t wake. Perfect facial for the pretty boy. I admired his angular features and perfect bone structure for a sec. Dude could seriously have a career as a model if he wanted.
…Buuuuut after last night’s performance though, I’d say he’s probably better suited to be a porn star, hahaha.
As I zipped up and headed out, I nearly bumped into Steve in the hallway. Steve was a cute blonde sophomore who happened to be on cleaning duty this morning, mop in hand, grey sweatpants hanging low on his hips. His eyes flicked past me to the bathroom, widening at the sight of Chase on the floor dried cum staining his sexy body and fresh cum dripping from his face. I caught the bulge tenting Steve’s sweats, that telltale swell. I smirked, clapping him on the shoulder. “Like what you see, plebe? Clean him up if you want a taste.” Steve flushed red, but his dick jumped. Yeah, he was turned on. Little perv.
Steve and Jimmy were the only two gay dudes in the frat. I knew Steve would be turned on by a prime jock specimen like Chase. Shit, the fag might even cum the and there seeing a perfect stud like Chase sleeping naked and covered in cum.
I left him there, heading out for practice, already plotting how to use those vids for more fun later. Chase’s spiral was deep, but mine? Nah, I was on top.
CHASE’S PERSPECTIVE
My head throbbed like I’d taken a full-body pin on the wrestling mat, the kind that leaves you seeing stars and questioning your life choices. Everything was fuzzy, a hazy blur that wouldn’t sharpen no matter how hard I tried to focus. What the hell happened last night?
I remembered meeting that cocky hockey jock, Matt. Boston, I had playfully called him most of last night. Those smirks, the way he leaned in close, the taste of vodka on his lips when we kissed upstairs. We’d hooked up, yeah… his hands on my body, that intense fuck that left me moaning like a bitch. That was soooo hot.
But after that? Nothing. A total blackout, like someone had slipped me something in my drink.
Drugged? Nah, couldn’t be. I wasn’t thaaaattt stupid….Was I?
I shifted, realizing I was flat on my back on the cold bathroom floor, sprawled out on what felt like a bath mat towel, rough and damp under my skin. My body ached everywhere, especially my ass, a deep, throbbing soreness that made me wince.
I felt… sticky. Like I’d been dunked in glue and left to dry. And the smell—fuck, what was that? Strong, musky BO, like a locker room after a brutal practice…sweat and pits and balls. It clung to my skin, my hair, even my face. I must’ve partied harder than I thought, maybe rolled around with Boston some more. But why the hell was I in a bathroom?
I cracked my eyes open, the fluorescent light stabbing like knives, and there he was—a muscular blonde guy hovering over me, green eyes locked on mine with a hungry glint, his short hair tousled like he’d just woken up too.
He was built solid, gym bro vibes, probably one of the frat pledges from the way he carried himself. Steve, I think? Yeah, that rang a bell from last night. Chatted him up a bit…think I caught him checking me out a few times.
But what the fuck was he doing here now? He was between my legs, missionary style, his lubed cock pressing insistently against my hole, slick and hard, about to slide in.
“Whoa—wait, what the—?” I muttered, confusion slamming into me like a body check. My heart raced, panic bubbling up as I tried to push him off, my hands weakly shoving at his chest.
But I was too groggy, my limbs heavy like they were filled with lead, the blackout haze still clouding my head. “Dude, get off… I don’t—”
Steve didn’t budge. He pinned my wrists down with one strong hand, his body weight pressing me into the mat, and crashed his lips onto mine in a dominant kiss that shut me up fast. His tongue invaded, tasting of mint and morning breath, while his free hand gripped my thigh, spreading me wider. I struggled for a second, twisting under him, but then his cock pushed in (slow at first, stretching my sore hole) and fuck, the pleasure hit like a wave. It burned, yeah, but in that good way, filling me up, making my dick twitch despite the confusion.
“Mmmph,” I groaned into sexy blonde, fratboy’s mouth, my resistance crumbling as he kissed me harder, passionately, dominantly, like he owned me. His tongue danced with mine, licking deep, and then he pulled back just enough to trail his lips over my cheek, my jaw—licking the sticky residue off my face. Cum? Sweat? Whatever it was, he lapped it up hungrily, his green eyes darkening with lust. “Shittt you taste so FRIGGIN good, Chase… all marked up like a slut,” he murmured, his voice rough and commanding.
I moaned, my body betraying me, arching up into him as he started fucking me hard and fast, his hips slamming against mine with a wet smack. Each thrust sent jolts through me, my worn-out hole clenching around him like it needed this.
Shit, I couldn’t help myself. This felt good…so fuckin good. “Oh fuck… Steve… yeah…” I took it like a bitch, legs wrapping around his waist instinctively, my moans echoing off the tile. The frat boy’s sweat dripped onto me, hot beads rolling down his chest, splashing onto my abs, my face. And shit, it turned me on more, his salty scent mixing with musk already coating me from last night. He was dripping everywhere, our bodies slick and sliding, and I loved it, my cock throbbing harder with every drop.
“Fuck, you’re tight… take it, pretty boy,” Steve growled, kissing me again, his tongue dominating mine while he pounded relentlessly. He licked more of the crusty mess off my face, sucking on my neck, almost hard enough to be marking me with hickeys as he drove deeper. It was such a turn on knowing he was licking Matt’s dried cum off my face.
I jizzed first, shooting ropes all over my chest and abs, the orgasm ripping through me like fire. My whole body felt warm and it felt like sparks were going through my spine. I curled my toes and tried my best not to scream in pleasure. As I moaned louder and louder, Steve covered my mouth with his hand.
My ass clenched and milked while my orgasm washed over me. Steve followed seconds later, burying deep and cumming in my hole with a guttural moan, flooding me with warmth.
We lay there panting for a minute, his body heavy on mine, before he pulled out gently. He chatted me up a bit. Reminded me his name’s Steve and we met briefly early on at last night’s party. I didn’t say much, really just tryna catch my breath and figure out what the fuck happened last night.
“Shower time, stud,” Steve said with a smirk, helping me up on shaky legs. We stepped into the tub together, the hot water cascading over us, washing away the stickiness, the sweat, the cum. He soaped me up, his hands roaming possessively, and I leaned into it, still groggy but sated.
But Steve wasn’t done. Under the steaming spray, he pressed me against the tile wall, his green eyes locking onto mine with that dominant hunger. “Turn around, Chase. Face the wall,” he ordered softly, his voice laced with command. I hesitated for a second, my mind still foggy, but the afterglow made me compliant. I turned, bracing my hands on the slick tiles, the water pounding down my back. What now? Feels… good, though. Whatever.
His soapy fingers traced down my spine, over my ass cheeks, spreading them gently. “You’ve got so much cum in you from last night… let’s clean you out proper.” Before I could process, he slipped two fingers into my hole, still loose and throbbing from the fuck. I gasped, arching back, the intrusion sending sparks through me. He pumped them in and out, curling to hit that spot, scooping deep. “Feel that? All that frat load sloshing around in your pussy? Gonna feed it to you.”
He pulled his fingers free with a wet squelch, coated in thick, creamy globs. It was cum from last night mixed with his own fresh load. How the fuck did Matt deposit so much jizz in me? It looked like it would’ve taken a full on gangbang for me to have so much semen in my hole. But I only remembered fucking one man: Matt. Holy shit, Matt was virile.
Turning me around, he held them to my lips. “Open up, pretty boy. Eat it. Taste what those dudes left in you.” My eyes widened, a flush of humiliation hitting me, but the grogginess and lingering horniness won out. What did he mean by THOSE dudes…I only hooked up with Matt last night…right?
I parted my lips, and he pushed his fingers in, making me suck them clean. The taste was salty, musky, bitter—fuck, that’s cum… so much of it… why does it turn me on? I licked obediently, moaning around his digits as he finger-fucked my mouth, his other hand stroking my spent cock back to half-hard.
“Good boy,” he praised, kissing me after, sharing the flavor on our tongues. The water rinsed us clean, but the intimacy lingered, his hands gentle now, washing me thoroughly. I leaned into him, confused but buzzing.
My clothes were piled on the floor…jeans, shirt, all rumpled like they’d been tossed there. I dressed quickly, the ache in my ass felt like a reminder of… something. But the blackout held firm; no memories since my hookup with Matt surfaced. “Gotta go meet my friend,” I muttered, slipping out the door. The frat house was quiet now, morning light filtering in. Whatever happened last night, it was over. Time to shake it off and move on.
…
A few moments later, I stepped out of the frat house into blinding morning sun, head still fuzzy, ass still throbbing like I’d taken a full night of pounding, which, apparently, I had? Didn’t remember most of it, but the ache didn’t lie. Every step reminded me. My phone buzzed in my pocket—Bobby.
*Yo, where you at? Court behind the rec center. 1v1. Loser buys shakes.*
I smirked despite everything. Bobby Reyes—former wrestling teammate, two years ahead of me. I loved Bobby. He was guy who taught me how to execute a proper half nelson and how to talk shit without sounding like a try-hard. Now he was a sophomore here at this New England university, still built like a tank and talking shit like nobody’s business. We’d planned this hangout weeks ago. Me visiting for the weekend, crashing at his place tonight after the party. Except the party turned into… whatever the fuck that was.
I texted back quick: *On my way. Don’t cry when I drop you.*
Ten minutes later I hit the outdoor court. Bobby was already there, bouncing the ball in lazy rhythm, shirtless, skin golden from summer ball and whatever beach time he stole. 5’9” of lean, tanned muscle. His broad shoulders tapering to a narrow waist, abs carved deep, black hair messy and damp with early sweat. He looked good. Always had. Back in high school I’d catch myself staring sometimes…his grip on my neck during drills, the way his thighs flexed pinning me…but I shoved it down. We were bros. That’s it.
He spotted me, grinned wide, tossed the ball my way hard enough to sting my palms.
“Texas finally shows up. Thought you’d still be passed out in some hockey bro’s bed.”
Heat crawled up my neck. “Fuck off. Just overslept.”
Bobby laughed, low and easy, dribbling circles around me. “Heard you and that Adams kid went full porn star last night. People talking about it at breakfast. You two were all over each other. Making out on the stairs, him dragging you upstairs like he owned you. Sounded intense, man.”
My face burned. I could feel it—cheeks going red, ears hot. “It wasn’t… like that. We just hooked up. Once. That’s it.”
“Once?” Bobby raised an eyebrow, smirking. “Word is you two lovebirds went for round two, three and five downstairs and fucked in every corner of the frat house.” Then, his tone shifted, having a tinge of genuine concern, “You good, Hux?”
I bounced the ball once, hard, trying to shake the embarrassment. “I’m good. Let’s play. You talk too much.”
He chuckled. “Alright, pretty boy. First to eleven. No blood, no fouls.”
We started. He was quick, always had been, darting past me for an easy layup. I blocked the next one, muscled him under the rim, used my size to post him up. 5’10”, 175 pounds of wrestler meat. I was proud of my thick legs, broad back, chest that stretched my tank top tight across my pecs. I knew how I looked out here: brown hair still messy from the shower, blue eyes sharp even when my head was foggy, arms veined glistening with sweat. I caught a couple girls staring as they walked by. Bobby didn’t say shit about my body today, but I caught him looking now…quick flick over my shoulders, down my arms, lingering on the way the tank clung to my abs when I jumped.
I drove hard, shoulder-checked him just enough to get space, pulled up for a jumper. Swish. 1-1.
“Still got that soft touch,” he said, grinning as he took the ball back. “But you’re moving slow today. Hungover? Or just distracted?”
“Not distracted,” I lied. But fuck, I was. Halfway through the game my dick started thickening in my shorts. No reason. Just… heat. Bobby’s sweat rolling down his chest, catching in the grooves of his abs. The flex of his biceps when he dribbled behind his back. And my brain kept flashing. Matt’s grip on my hips, his voice growling in my ear, that thick cock stretching me open. Then Steve this morning, pinning me, licking cum off my face like it was dessert. My hole clenched at the memory, sending a fresh throb straight to my cock.
I adjusted myself mid-dribble, hoping Bobby didn’t notice the bulge starting to show. Kept my tank on…thank fuck…because if I stripped it, there’d be no hiding the way my nipples were hard, the way my abs tightened every time I jumped.
Bobby drove past me again, body close, chest brushing mine. Smelled like clean sweat and that cheap body spray he always wore. My dick jumped. Hard.
“Jesus, Hux,” he laughed, sinking a floater. “You good? You’re red as fuck.”
“Shut up and play,” I muttered, voice rougher than I meant. Took the ball, posted him up again. Backed him down slow, ass brushing his hips. Felt his breath on my neck. Fuck. I spun, hooked a shot. Missed. He grabbed the rebound, easy.
“Thought you were gonna school me,” he teased, dribbling low. “What’s got you so off? Still thinking about your hockey boyfriend?”
“He’s not my—” I cut off, snatched at the ball. He pulled it away, laughing, then stepped in close—too close—chest to chest, trapping me against the chain-link fence behind the hoop.
“Relax, man. I’m just fucking with you.” His voice dropped, eyes flicking down my body again. “But seriously… you look good out here. Tank’s doing you favors. Your arms lethal.”
My throat went dry. Cock throbbed full-on now, straining against my shorts. I swallowed. “You’re not bad yourself, Reyes. Still got that six-pack.”
He grinned, slow and cocky. “Yeah? You checking me out now?”
“Fuck you,” I said, but there was no heat in it. Just… heat. Everywhere.
He bounced the ball once between us, eyes locked on mine. “Game’s tied at seven. You gonna finish this, or you need a water break to calm your dick down?”
I shoved him—playful, but hard enough to feel the solid muscle under my palms. “Play, asshole.”
We kept going. Sweaty. Close. Every drive, every block, every time our bodies collided, my brain shorted out a little more. Matt’s voice echoed in my head—“take it, slut”—and Bobby’s grin looked too much like it. I didn’t know what the fuck was wrong with me today. Horny didn’t cover it. Starving, maybe. Like last night cracked something open and now I couldn’t close it.
Bobby sank another one, then paused, wiping sweat off his forehead with the back of his wrist. He looked at me serious for the first time since I got here.
“Listen, Hux… about Matt Adams. I’m not trying to kill the vibe or anything, but you should know…he’s got a rep around here. Bad one. Fuckboy supreme. Hooks up with girls, ghosts them, leaves them crying in group chats. Some chicks say he’s pushy as hell, doesn’t take no for an answer. Couple rumors he and his buddy Doug are straight-up predatory…slipping shit in drinks, getting people too fucked up to say stop. Nothing proven, but enough people whisper it that I’d believe it.”
I froze mid-dribble. Stomach twisted. “He didn’t… I mean, I don’t remember much after we went upstairs, but—”
“Yeah, that’s what worries me.” Bobby’s voice stayed low, casual like he was just stating facts.
“And here’s the weird part…I’ve never heard of him messing with dudes before. Like, ever. He’s always been this straight pussy hound, bragging about every chick he’s ever nailed. So whatever happened last night… that’s new. Maybe he was just drunk and horny, maybe he saw you and decided to try something different. But either way, dude’s not the type to care about the aftermath.”
He bounced the ball lightly, eyes on me. “I’m not saying don’t have fun. Just… be careful if he ever hits you up again. Or shows up wherever you are. Guys like that don’t stop at one night.”
I nodded slow, throat tight. The embarrassment from earlier mixed with something colder now. “Yeah. Got it.” I felt a bit disappointed…the sex last night was so good…it really would’ve been nice to hook up with Matt a couple more times if I ever visited this area again.
Bobby clapped my shoulder, squeezed once—firm, reassuring. “Good. Now let’s finish kicking your ass so you can buy me that shake.”
By the time he hit eleven—barely beating me on a contested layup—we were both drenched, breathing hard, laughing through the burn.
He clapped me on the back, hand lingering a second too long on my shoulder. “Good game, Hux. You almost had me.”
“Next time,” I said, voice low. Tried to ignore how my cock was still half-hard, how my tank stuck to every ridge of my abs, how Bobby’s eyes kept drifting.
He nodded toward the path back to campus. “Shakes on you, loser. Then you can tell me the real story about last night. No bullshit.”
I laughed, shaky. “Yeah. Maybe.”
But as we walked, side by side, Bobby's bare shoulder brushing mine, all I could think was how bad I wanted someone, anyone, to pin me down again the way Matt did. Totally dominant and primal. He made me feel like a helpless little fuck toy, and shit, I fuckin’ loved every minute of it.
MATT’S PERSPECTIVE
The Saturday morning sun was still low in the sky when Coach fucking Delaney decided to unleash hell on us. "Optional" my ass. Everyone knew showing up hungover or skipping meant extra sprints next week. So there we were, the whole hockey squad, grunting through deadlifts, squats, and suicide sprints in the campus rec center at 8 in the morning like a bunch of punished pledges. My quads were on fire, sweat pouring down my back, soaking the gray tank that was already clinging to every ridge of my abs. The pump was insane though. I admired my arms, veins popping, biceps looking extra full. I caught my reflection in the mirror wall and smirked. Still the hottest motherfucker in the room.
Coach barked orders the whole time, that prick. "Adams! Pick it up! You boys party like it's spring break every Friday, then wonder why you're gassed by period two." He scheduled these Saturday crushers on purpose to try and cockblock the our Friday parties. Joke's on him—it never worked. The boys and I always just powered through our workouts, then rallied harder at night.
By 10 a.m. we were done. Most of the guys headed straight to the dining hall for a mountain of carbs and protein. I grabbed my phone from the locker, towel around my neck, still shirtless because why not let the gains breathe? Notifications lit up the screen. My Instagram messages had been pinging nonstop.
It was Kent, a cute, blonde soccer player that slid into my DMs a few weeks ago.
Kent: Morning, Matt 😏 You survive the gym? Bet you're looking extra swole rn
I grinned, thumb hovering. Kent had just turned eighteen. He was fresh out of high school, about to head off to some nearby D3 school in a couple weeks.
I’m straight and never would’ve paid this guy any attention, except for one fact. He’s Kevin Chamberlain's little brother. Yeah, *that* Kevin, my frat bro whose girl I tried (and failed) to steal a kiss from last night before I ended up railing Chase in my room instead. Small world.
Kevin had no clue about this thing, of course. Kent had slid into my DMs weeks ago, all shy and horny, eventually admitting he was a virgin and had been jerking off to my Insta stories for months. I found it mostly pathetic but weirdly kinda hot?
I'd been stringing him along like a pro. Made him send pics every time I asked—shirtless in his bedroom mirror, ass up on his bed in tight briefs, hard cock leaking against his abs while he held the phone with shaky hands. "On your knees, tongue out." "Spread those cheeks, show me that virgin hole." "Stroke it slow and film it for me." He'd obey every time, captions getting more desperate: *Please Matt, I need you so bad*, *When can I finally feel you?*, *I'm saving it all for you*. I'd reply once with a fire emoji or a "good boy" and then leave him on read for hours. I liked edging the little twink until he was practically begging in voice notes, whimpering my name.
Today felt different. My cock was already half-hard from the gym pump and the memory of Chase's tight ass clenching around me last night. Why keep teasing when I could just take?
Kent lived with his parents, whose home was pretty close to campus. Which meant easy access for me.
I typed back: *Just finished destroying legs. Sweaty as fuck. You still home alone?*
**Kent**: *Yeah parents are out til tonight. Come over? Please? I've been hard since I woke up thinking about you*
I laughed under my breath. This dude is such a horndog. But who can blame him, being 18 years old and a virgin at that. I could fuck around at his house and make sure I zipped out by the time his parents return. Risky, but that just made it hotter.
Me: Be there in 30. Wear that jock I told you to buy. Nothing else. Door unlocked?
Kent: Yes sir. Waiting on my knees like you like 🥺
Fuck. I was horny. I showered quick, just rinsing my body with warm water. No body wash today. I planned to make Kent clean me off.
I threw on a black compression shirt that hugged my muscles, gray sweats that showed off my bulge, and my favorite backward cap. Grabbed my keys and headed out.
The drive to their house was short. Kevin and Kent's parents had decent money—nice neighborhood, big colonial with the garage door open like always. I parked a couple houses down, just in case. Walked up casual, heart pounding a little harder than usual. Not nerves. Just anticipation.
Door was cracked. I pushed in, closed it behind me. House was quiet except for the AC humming. I headed upstairs toward Kent's room like I'd been there a hundred times (I hadn't, but I'd seen enough nudes of it to know the layout).
His door was open. And there he was.
Kent knelt in the middle of the floor, exactly like he'd promised. Blonde hair still messy from sleep, blue eyes wide and nervous-excited. He was wearing nothing but a fresh white jockstrap that framed his smooth, athletic ass perfectly. soccer legs toned and tan, slim waist, that pretty pink cock already straining against the pouch, a wet spot forming. Hands behind his back, chest rising and falling from either nervousness or excitement.
"Matt…" he breathed, voice cracking a little. "You actually came."
I stepped inside, kicked the door shut, locked it. Towered over him, still smelling like post-gym sweat. I rinsed off in the shower after the workout, but made sure not to use any body wash.
"Told you I would, didn't I?" I peeled off my shirt slow, letting him drink in the pump—pecs swollen, abs carved deeper than usual. "Been a good boy? Kept that hole ready for me?"
He nodded frantically. "Y-yes. I've been fingering myself every night thinking about your cock. Like you told me to."
I smirked, palming myself through the sweats. Thick outline obvious. "Show me."
Kent turned, arched his back, reached back with both hands and spread his cheeks. The jockstrap strap framed that tight, pink pucker perfectly—smooth, untouched, twitching under my stare.
"Goddamn," I muttered. "Virgin little brother of my frat bro, presenting him like a trained slut. Kevin would lose his fucking mind if he found out."
Kent whimpered at the mention. "Don't… don't tell him. Please."
I chuckled, dropping my sweats. My cock sprang free—heavy, thick, already leaking. "Oh, I'm not telling him shit…as long as you’re a good boy like you promised."
I stepped closer, grabbed a fistful of that blonde hair, tilted his head back so he had to look up at me. "Open."
He did. Mouth wide, tongue out, eager.
This was gonna be fun.
I shoved two thick fingers into Kent’s open mouth right away, stretching his lips, pressing down on his tongue. “Not yet, bitch. You don’t get my cock until you earn it. First, lose the socks.”
His eyes went wide, confused for half a second. I stepped back, planted my size 13 feet right in front of his kneeling face. The white Nike ankle socks were still damp from the morning lift. Dark sweat stained the soles.
Us hockey players are kinda known for having nasty feet, with them being baked in skates all the time. Mine probably didn’t reek as much as the other guys’, seeing as I make sure to wash them when I shower. But I knew the probably still stink a bit. I am a man, after all.
“Use your teeth. Slowly. And keep your hands behind your back the whole time.”
Kent hesitated, breathing hard. His pretty pink cock was already throbbing so hard in that jock it looked painful, the pouch soaked through, a thick string of precum dangling from the tip and stretching toward the floor.
I snapped my fingers. “Now, virgin. Or I walk.”
That got him moving. He leaned in, lips trembling, and caught the cuff of my left sock between his teeth. He pulled, slow and clumsy, the wet cotton peeling off my foot with a soft, sticky sound. The smell seemed to hit him full force. His whole body shuddered. I watched his hole twitch under the jockstrap strap as he did the same to the right sock, tongue accidentally brushing my bare sole on the way off. He gagged a little at the taste but kept going like a good boy.
Both socks were off now, dangling from his mouth like trophies. I snatched them, balled them up, and shoved the sweaty mess straight between his teeth.
“Bite down. Taste what a real man smells like after destroying a two hour workout.”
He moaned around the gag, eyes watering, but his cock leaked even more, now a clear line dripping onto the hardwood.
I lifted my bare right foot and dragged it slowly up his body. I pressed the ball of my foot against his smooth chest, circling one nipple until it hardened, then slid down over his sexy toned abs, feeling every ridge tense under me. Lower. I cupped his leaking bulge with my toes, squeezing just enough to make him whimper.
“No touching yourself,” I growled when his hands twitched forward. “That little virgin dick stays locked in the jock. You cum when I say, not before.”
He whined, but obeyed, slamming his hands back behind him.
I kept going, sliding my foot between his thighs, forcing his legs wider. My big toe found his hole—still smooth, still pink and clenching from all those desperate nights fingering himself for me. I rubbed slow circles around the rim, feeling it flutter and open under the pressure. Then I pressed the tip of my toe inside, just the first knuckle, stretching him.
“Fuck—Matt—please—” he tried to say around the socks in his mouth.
I spit a thick glob right onto my toe and his hole, watching it glisten. “Shut the fuck up. This is my hole now. I get to do whatever I want with my property.” I pushed deeper, twisting, fucking him with just my toe while he shook.
His whole body was trembling, precum pouring out in ropes now, soaking the jock completely. The kid was so horny he looked like he might cry.
I pulled my foot free, stepped forward, and planted my sole straight across his handsome face, blue eyes framed by golden blonde hair. The smell of my foot engulfed him—hot, sweaty, overpowering. I pressed down hard, mashing his pretty features into the floor, pinning him there like a bug.
I pinned Kent’s face to the floor with one foot and moved the other one close to his face, by his nose.
“Rub your face on my feet. Both feet, if you want your reward. Show me how bad you want my cock.”
Kent moaned like a whore, socks still stuffed in his mouth. He started grinding his cheeks, nose, lips, even his tongue against my soles, licking between my toes, inhaling deep like he couldn’t get enough. His hips bucked uselessly in the air, cock trapped and dripping, desperate for any friction.
Between sloppy licks he started begging, voice muffled and broken: “Please… Matt… let me worship your cock… I’ll do anything… I’ve waited weeks… please let me suck on it… I’m so fucking horny… my hole needs you… please, dude…”
I laughed low, grinding my heel harder against his forehead, keeping him crushed to the floor.
“Hahahah. Keep begging, ya horny twink. Louder. Tell me exactly how you’re gonna let your big brother’s frat bro ruin that virgin pussy.”
Kent’s voice cracked into a sob of pure need, face still buried under my smelly feet, tongue working desperately between every toe.
I kept my foot planted firm on the side of Kent’s face, grinding his reddened cheek into the hardwood while he slobbered over my toes like they were the only thing keeping him alive. His whole body was shaking now…knees trembling, hips twitching, that pathetic virgin cock drooling a constant stream of precum.
I pulled my phone with my free hand, thumbed open the camera, and hit record. I angled it down so it caught everything: his flushed face mashed under my sole, blonde hair matted with sweat, socks still bulging his cheeks, eyes glassy with desperation.
“Alright, little bitch,” I said, voice low and mocking. “Time to talk. Look right at the camera and tell me exactly what you are. Loud. Clear. And make it nasty.”
Kent whimpered around the sock gag, but I pressed my heel harder. “Hands stay behind your back. Speak.”
Over DMs, I told Kent the kind of things I like to hear him say, so he didn’t need me to spell it out for him.
Kent managed to spit the socks out just enough to talk, voice wrecked and slurred. “I’m… I’m Kevin’s little brother… your frat bro’s virgin slut… I’m a desperate cock-hungry twink who’s been sending you nudes for weeks… jerking off to your hockey pics… fingering my hole every night dreaming of your dick… please Matt… I’m nothing but a hole for you to use… I’ll do anything… just fuck me… ruin me… make me your cumdump before I leave for college…”
I barked a laugh, zooming in on his face as tears of pure horniness welled up. “Keep going. Tell the camera how bad you want your big brother’s frat bro to breed that tight little pussy. Say it like you mean it.”
“I want you to breed me, man” he choked out, hips bucking uselessly. “Want you to stretch me open, fill me up… m-m-make me leak your cum all day… Kevin’s never gonna know his little brother’s getting railed by the hottest guy in the frat… please film it… film me begging… I’m so fucking horny I can’t think… my balls fuckin hurt dude… please let me cum… please let me taste your cock…”
I was grinning ear to ear, cock throbbing against my thigh as I saved the video. “Good boy. That’s going in my private collection. Maybe I’ll send it to you later so you can jerk to it on the plane to college.”
I finally lifted my foot off his face. Kent gasped, chest heaving.
“Kiss your way up. Start at my feet. Lips only. No hands. Touch yourself or me with anything but that pretty mouth and I walk out right now.”
He dove in like a starved animal. Soft, wet kisses on the top of my right foot, then the arch, then slow drags of his tongue between every toe. Up the ankle, calf, behind the knee. Kent shivering the whole way like he was worshipping some god. When he reached my thigh, lips brushing the thick muscle, his face was inches from my heavy balls. He hesitated, eyes flicking up, begging silently.
I grabbed a fistful of blonde hair and yanked his head back. “Crotch is off-limits, slut. Keep going. Up.”
He whined but obeyed, kissing higher. Over the V of my hips, tracing every cut of my abs with trembling lips. My eight-pack was still pumped from the gym, skin hot and salty. Every time his mouth brushed a ridge, his cock jerked hard in the jock, leaking so much it sounded like a slow drip. He was right on the edge, body shaking violently, breaths coming in short, panicked pants.
“Don’t you fucking cum,” I growled. “You shoot without permission and I’ll edge you for another month.”
The 18 year old virgin jock sobbed against my skin but kept kissing, lips dragging up my chest, over a pec, circling a nipple without daring to suck.
“Armpits,” I ordered. “Get in there. Clean me up.”
Kent froze for a split second, nose wrinkling at the thought. Post-gym musk was thick: ripe, tangy, pure man-stink. I didn’t give him time to think. I hooked an arm up, exposing the dark, sweaty patch of hair, grabbed the back of his head, and shoved his face straight in.
“Breathe it. Lick it. Make out with my pit like it’s your boyfriend.”
He gagged at first, trying to pull back, but I locked my arm around his skull and ground him deeper. Nose buried in the damp hair, lips pressed to the salty skin. After a few seconds of muffled protest, something shifted. His tongue flicked out—tentative—then bolder. He started lapping, moaning into the musk, sucking at the hair, grinding his face like he couldn’t get enough. His hips rolled desperately, cock throbbing untouched.
“Good little pit slut,” I laughed, finally shoving him away hard.
Kent toppled backward, landing on his ass with a thud, legs splayed, jock soaked and stretched.
I stepped over him, planted a foot on his chest to pin him flat, then reached down and hooked two fingers under the waistband of the jock. One hard yank. Fabric tore like paper. The straps snapped, the pouch ripped open, and his six-inch cock sprang free, red and angry, slick with precum, balls drawn tight.
I dropped my foot between his thighs, sole pressing flat against his leaking shaft. Slow, deliberate strokes…heel to toes, rubbing the full length, smearing his own precum all over my foot.
“New game,” I said, smirking down at him. “I spit. You catch. Open wide.”
I hawked a thick glob and let it fall. Kent’s mouth snapped open—missed. It splattered across his cheek and dripped onto the floor.
“Bad boy.” I pulled my foot back and brought it down hard on his ass—crack. He yelped, cock jumping.
Another spit. This one he lunged for…caught half on his tongue, half on his chin. The rest hit the floor.
“Two more drops. Two more spanks.”
I kept going. Spit after spit. Some he caught, swallowing greedily like it was nectar. Most he missed, too shaky, too horny, too fucked-up in the head to focus. Every miss earned him a sharp smack from my foot…left cheek, right cheek, turning his smooth ass bright pink.
By the tenth spit he was a mess: face shiny with my saliva, ass stinging, cock pulsing dangerously close to the edge, whole body quaking.
I pressed my sole harder against his shaft, pinning it to his abs, toes curling around the head.
“Beg me to let you cum while I foot-fuck you, virgin. And make it good. Or I stop right here and leave you leaking on the floor.”
Kent’s voice cracked into a broken sob.
“Please… Matt… sir… please let me cum… I can’t take it… my balls are so full… I’ve been edged for weeks… please milk me with your foot… please use me… I’m yours… I’m your slut… just let me shoot…”
I laughed again, low and cruel, and started stroking faster, foot gliding slick and relentless over his throbbing length. Not yet, faggot. But soon.
I dropped into the desk chair in Kent’s room like I owned the place, legs spread wide, still completely naked from the waist down. Phone back in my hand, camera rolling again, focused steady on his flushed, wrecked face.
“On your knees, slut. Right here between my legs. Keep those hands locked behind your back.”
Kent scrambled into position instantly, knees spread on the floor, chest heaving, that 6-inch virgin cock standing straight up, angry red and drooling a nonstop river of precum that swung in thick strings every time he breathed. His eyes were wild, pupils blown, body already trembling like he was freezing even though the room was warm.
I lifted my right foot and flicked the head of his cock with my big toe. Hard, sharp little snaps that made it bounce and slap against his abs. Precum flew everywhere. “Look at this pathetic thing. Leaking like a faucet just from my feet. Camera’s catching every twitch, virgin."
My left foot dragged slowly up Kent’s athletic body…sole gliding over his smooth thigh, across his trembling abs, up to his chest, then across one nipple before I slapped his cheek with it. Hard. The wet smack echoed. The soccer star’s head snapped to the side, but he moaned like a whore and pushed his face right back into position, begging for more.
I kept alternating: toe-flicking his cockhead until it jumped and leaked harder, then slapping his cheek or groping his pecs and abs with the other foot. Every slap left a faint footprint on his skin. Every flick made his hips jerk forward involuntarily.
“Fuck—Matt—sir—oh my god…” he gasped, voice cracking. “It feels so good… your feet are so big and strong… I’m so fucking close already… fuck fuck fuck...uhhhggg....please don’t stop…oh yeah...yeahhh.... I’ve never been touched by a guy before… it’s too much… I’m gonna—FUCK—”
I laughed right into the camera. “Not yet, bitch. You only cum when I say.”
But I was done teasing. Deviously, I decided I was gonna push him over the edge anyway, even while commanding him not to cum. Forcing him to disobey me.
I planted both feet on Kent's throbbing cock at once. Right sole pinning the shaft flat against his defined abs, left foot stroking up and down in long, slow, slick glides, toes curling around the shivering cock head on every upstroke. The wet sounds were obscene. His precum lubed everything perfectly.
Kent’s eyes rolled back. His whole body locked up for half a second…then exploded.
“HOLY SHITTTT—Matt… I’m cumming…aghhh...I--I'm sorry.... I’m cumming… can’t stop… first time with a guy… your feet…fucking feet are making me cum. Ahhh shit…look at me…your frat bro’s little brother shooting for you. fuck I’m such a slut. Kevin would die if he saw this…oh god it’s so good…so fricken humiliating…so fucking hot—yes yes YES!”
His sexy twink body convulsed violently. Abs clenching and releasing in waves, thighs shaking so hard they slapped together, chest flushing deep red all the way up his neck. His cock pulsed like a heartbeat under my soles, thick ropes of cum blasting out in powerful jets. The first shot flew so high it splattered across his own cheek and lips. The second hit his chin. The next three painted his abs and chest in messy white streaks.
He kept moaning uncontrollably the whole time, voice high and broken. He surprised me with how deep he was getting into the verbal self humiliation. He started saying some NASTY shit:
“I’m still cumming. Fuck! Can’t believe I’m shooting hands-free on your feet…first guy ever…mhhhh…. Love your sweaty hockey feet. Matt I’m your whore now…yeah please keep filming. Please use me forever. Ohhh god I’m such a pathetic virgin whore…cumming so hard it hurts. Yes sir…ughhh yeahh…thank you sir, fuck I love being humiliated!”
By the time the last weak spurts dribbled out, he was a shaking, cum-drenched mess—face glistening, chest heaving, lips parted, eyes glassy with pure overwhelmed bliss.
I didn’t let him enjoy it for even a second.
I grabbed the soccer jock by the hair, yanked him forward over my lap, and started spanking his ass—hard, fast, no mercy. Crack. Crack. Crack.
“One… two… three… You came without permission, slut. Twenty spanks. Count them.”
Each slap landed right on Kent's cum-smeared cheeks, spreading his own load across his ass like lube. The athletic 18-year old jock was sobbing and moaning at the same time.
“Four—five—ow fuck—six—sorry sir—seven—I couldn’t help it—eight—your feet felt too good—nine—ten—please—eleven—my ass is on fire—twelve—thirteen—I’m still so horny—fourteen—fifteen—sixteen—seventeen—eighteen—nineteen—twenty—thank you sir—!”
His ass was bright red and shiny with his own cum when I finally shoved him off my lap. He collapsed onto his knees again, breathing ragged, tears streaking the cum on his face.
And his cock? Still rock-hard. Twitching. Drooling fresh precum like the orgasm had done nothing but make him needier.
I stood up slowly, towering over him. Hooked my thumbs into the waistband of my compression shirt and peeled it off, revealing every inch of my pumped, sweaty torso. Then I shoved my gray sweats the rest of the way down and stepped out, letting my thick, heavy cock swing free. Nine inches of veiny, uncut jock meat, already rock-hard and leaking, balls hanging low and full.
Kent’s eyes went huge. He literally drooled, a string of spit running down his chin to mix with the cum already there.
“Holy… fuck… Matt…” he stammered, voice hoarse and shaky. “That’s… that’s your cock? It’s so… beautiful… so fucking huge and thick and perfect… I—I can’t believe it’s real… it’s even bigger than in the pics you made me jerk to… oh my god… it’s the most gorgeous dick I’ve ever seen even in porn… please… please let me taste it… I need it so bad…”
I smirked, grabbed the base, and slapped the heavy length across his cum-streaked face once, twice, leaving a wet smear on his cheek.
“Beg better, virgin. And keep those eyes on it while you do.”
Thanks for reading! I was never really happy with this chapter and think it still needs a lot of work, but I’ve been struggling so much with writers block and publishing stuff, that I ended up deciding to just put this out now. I may go back and edit/improve this story later on.
Which character are you guys most attracted to so far (between Kent, Matt, Chase, Steve and Bobby)? Btw, this is probably Chase's last chapter in this series, at least for a while. He's headed back to Texas to enjoy his senior year of high school. But don't worry there will be plenty more of him (and his stepdad, who I know is very popular among some of y'all) in the coming installments of Chase's Senior Year.
To get in touch with the author, send them an email.
