A black Daddy's, white Punk

Introduction:
My big black bull of a neighbor, master Tylor, took my white virgin punk ass for a dominating ride. I did like the sex with him, although I got second thoughts about becoming his private bitch-boy. I had enough issues at college to wrap my head around.
This 2nd chapter is seen through the eyes of Dylan Stockman.

Disclaimer:
This story is strictly fictional and contains male-on-male (gay) sexual content, both implied and explicit. 

• If this offends you, please do not continue. 
• If you are under 16 years of age, please exit this story now. 

All character names, implied situations, parties, or locations are strictly fictional. Any similarities with real people are unintentional and purely coincidental. This fictional story is the author's imagination and is not based on real-life events or people. The author does not endorse any products or parties named in this story.
Copyright:
Any and all copyrights to this story remain strictly that of the author. No other publication or use, or reproduction of this story, or parts of this story, is allowed without the author's written consent. 

Freshman's troubles, but the bitch ain't one.

So far, my 18th birthday had shaped up nicely. I spend most of the morning celebrating it with my family. But after lunch, I decided to get some air, shooting hoops in our driveway. The weather was lovely and warm. So I had stripped off my t-shirt before I saw mister Rawley drive home on his Harley. I really liked the look of him. Especially when he wore his kinky leather biker outfit. The 38-year-old stocky body-builder could have been my father. But I fancied him a bit. Man, he looked particularly hot today.

My sexy Latina girlfriend, Emily Garcia, and I had not had sex in a few months now. So I was dying to get laid. As a freshman at college, that wasn't all that difficult. Plenty of women that fucked around. I had my suspicion that Emily was one of those loose women. Screwing behind my back. Heck, even the guys didn't mind helping each other out at school.

Mister Rawley parked his cool motorcycle on his driveway. He had walked around it a couple of times, glancing over at me from time to time. I even stuck up a hand to greet him. If my stepdad had seen that, I would have been in so much fucking trouble. The two men could not stand each other. When I was much younger, I had heard the two men yelling, "Stay the fuck away from my son's... You fucking faggot!... I want nothing to do with you, Rawley!"
"What the hell do you take me for Peters?... You may do younger guys... But at least I wait until they are old enough!"
The quarrel had stuck with me. I was too young to fully comprehend what that was all about. But in subsequent years, I came to understand that they had something going on. Today I turned old enough for mister Rawley I thought.

My stepdad, Rodger Peters, had been friends with my mom, Ellen Clark, ever since she broke up with my father. In fact, Charles Stockman and Rodger Peters had been best mates since high-school. Both dating Ellen Clark. Charles married Ellen when he had knocked her up during his college graduation party. They were too young when they got married, so the relationship did not last. That's when that sneaky, underhanded, backstabbing... Sorry, that's when Rodger stepped in.
My stepdad fathered my younger brother with her. But he left the upbringing of Josef and me to Ellen. The divorce with Charles had not gone through, so Josef got given the Stockman last name as well.

Anyway, mister Rawley had gone inside, and I walked across the cul-de-sac to take a closer look at his Harley. He had left his butch leather biker jacket hanging on his handlebars. Man, I really liked to get myself some leather of my own. But Rodger has always been dead-set against that.
I picked the heavy black leather classic biker jacket up. I was pleasantly surprised by the weight, the feel, and even the smell of the cowhide leather.
That is when Tylor Rawley rushed me from behind. Watching me stroke my dick in my sweatpants. His leather jacket had somehow turned me on. Making me dream of what it would be like to be as butch as the black daddy, Tylor Rawley. I saw myself as nothing more than a mediocre college punk. Not bad looking, but nothing special either.

I knew mister Rawley was big, muscular, and very stern. What I did not realize, the black leather biker was an alpha master. Tylor Rawley is into all kinds of kinky bondage and domination shit. He likes to make men submit to him while they serve his every sexual need. And those were fast and varied, I found out earlier today. Master Tylor had even told me he had another bitch-boy that went to my college as well. I thought I could get used to that too. Shit, I had a great time with him that afternoon! He even let me screw his black hole as well. Now, that's what I called a birthday cream-pie surprise. I think I may have fallen for him. Or at least for the dirty way we fucked. It was much more intense than any of the sex I had with my girlfriends.

I got home just before dinner, having my lifelong dream made into reality only a couple of hours ago. I got my twinky punk-ass fucked by the biggest black dude I knew.
And you know what the best thing is? Master Tylor gave me a cool gypsy leather biker jacket to wear. Saying he only fucked guys in leather. Hell, and I did not even tell you about the remote control Lovense buttplug. It was still deep in my ass when I walked home with quite some difficulty. Not because it is too big for my hole. Heck, it is a lot smaller than the 10-inch fat slong of master Tylor. The problem lay in the fact that mister Rawley kept teasing me with it. Vibrating my hole every few yards.

My small brother, Josef, saw me clamping my ass in pleasure as I walked across the cul-de-sac to him. My brother is nearly 16 and only 5' 5" tall and very skinny. Compared to my 6' 1" muscular swimmer's body, he looked tiny. Josef Stockman is technically my half-brother. But Rodger Peters was less of a father to both of us than Charles Stockman ever was. 

"Where have you been, Dyl?... Dad is mad as shit," asked Josef.
"He should not be... I have told them that I would go outside to shoot some hoops... But yeah, I was out spending my birthday cash with the big boys..."
"What's wrong with your ass, Dylan?"
"I'll tell you when you grow up, Jo," I laughed a Josef.
"Did you buy a new jacket?... Ain't that leather a bit hot for this weather?..."
"Doesn't it look cool on me then, bro?"
"Oh, fucking hell... Yes, it does, Dylan... May I borrow it sometime?... I want to look as tough as you, Dyl."
"Ha ha ha... It's way too big for you, Tiny... And I am not that tough... Let's go inside, Josef... I want something to drink and clean-up before dinner." I knew Josef did not like people calling him Tiny. I think I am the only one he allowed to call him that.

When we walked inside, our stepdad immediately started to shout at me. Telling me to take off that jacket and put my T-shirt back on. Saying that he was my dad and that I should do as he said. That did not sit well with me. So I sneered at him defiantly, "Sir... You are not my father... And if you act this way, you never will be!" Sending a shock through the gathered adults. But it made my mother grin. I think she was still in love with Charles Stockman as well.

... KAPOW ...
Rodger swung his fist. Grazing Josef's nose before giving me a black eye. Josef started to cry, and mom stepped in harm's way. Protecting her son's.
"Go to your room!... Dumb punk!... Sorry, kiddo, but you're always in the way!..." shouted Rodger angrily at Josef and me. The lad's nose was spraying blood all over the living room carpet. I quickly pressed my t-shirt to his nose and guided Jo away to the bathroom upstairs.
We heard Ellen yelling and screaming at her longtime boyfriend. A door slammed, and Rodger Peters drove off in his car.

In the bathroom, I helped Josef stem the bleeding and clean him up as well as possible. My brother was crying his eyes out. Not that he was in much pain. It was the shock of the whole thing that got to him. I was used to the lose-fisted behavior of Rodger by now.
The remote control vibrating butt-toy gave my asshole an auditable buzz. Not like the small teases that master Tylor had given me before. No, he made it go to its maximum setting. Making me wince in pleasure. Grasping my ass tightly, as I got fucked by the master with it.
I pulled down my sweats and slowly removed the vibrating butt-toy. This to the amazement of my younger brother. Before I pulled the thing fully out, I fucked myself a little with it. Watching Josef's stunned reaction in the mirror.

"Shhh... Don't tell anyone... This is new too," I softly hissed to my little brother. I sat down on the toilet next to the bath where Josef sat. Laying a brotherly hand on his back, helping to steady him.
"You've done more than shoot hoops and buy that cool jacket... Haven't you, Dylan?" asked Josef.
"Yep... I have fooled around with mister Rawley... He showed me how to get fucked by a man... And to be honest... I think I liked that... But you do well to keep that to yourself, bro."
"Wow... I thought I was the open-minded one of us two... Good for you, dude... You got to tell me all about that sometime..." grinned Josef dirty to me. "Won't your girl find out, Dyl?" asked Josef worriedly.
"Not unless someone talks," I said, squinting my eyes at my brother.
"I've got your back... You know that!"

"Hey... Ummm... Tiny?... Would you like to come to my birthday party with me tonight?" I asked my little brother. His sad demeanor brightened up considerably. He sprang up off the bath's edge and flung himself around my neck. Kissing me full on the lips. Mom had opened the bathroom door watching how Josef smooched me in thanks. She had heard me invite Tiny along with me for the night's events.
Josef knew I was planning to take my friends and their girls for drinks and a movie without him. Mom grinned at me, stretching out an arm to silently give me a fist-bump. Josef had not even seen her come inside. Ellen seemed very pleased with my change of heart. Originally, I had planned to go with the boys to fool around in the cinema's back row with our girls. And let the night 'dick-tate' what it had in store for us. Now that I was of age, I had secretly hoped for some kind of freaky no-holes-barred orgy at one of the dorms on campus. But after this afternoon, I was too pooped to pop anyway. So drinks and a movie it was.

My stunningly beautiful Latina girlfriend, Emily Garcia, already waited for me in the kitchen. She was going to have dinner with us before we went out. The family made a fuss over Josef. Mom took me aside and hugged me when Josef and I came back downstairs. Handing me a wad of cash she had saved up for her boys' 18th birthday bash.
"Happy Birthday, Dyl," muttered Emily as she draped herself around my neck. Pushing my mother rudely out of my way.

"Mom, is it okay if we skip dinner with the family?" I asked her. Looking apologetically at my aunt and uncles.
"Cool with us, son... Then we can have seconds..." laughed one of mom's brothers to me.
"Sure, Dylan... You look out for your brother, though!... Get him home on time!... It's a school day for him tomorrow!" She laughingly called after us. This wasn't what Emily had been hoping to hear. She wasn't all that fond of Josef. Even less so when she found out, I had invited him to tag along with us.

Emily was a bit pushy at times. The captain of the cheerleading team was used to getting her own way. That annoyed the shit out of me. I had actually been contemplating breaking up with her for a couple of months now. Even more so now that she had seen other guys behind my back. And that I had finally experienced the love of a real dominating leather man.

When Josef put on his coat, Emily half-shouted at him, "What do you think you're doing?... You can take off your jacket, Tiny... You are NOT coming with us!"
"Actually, Emily... Josef IS coming with me!"
"Look, man... I am putting my foot down, Dylan... Tiny is not coming along!"
"Is that right?... Well, in that case... I think I'd rather hang out with my brother and my mates than with you!"
"Okay, then we are through!" shouted Emily Garcia at me. Snapping her fingers in my face. Pushing her way past my buddies when she stormed out the back door.
My college mates had heard about the fight I had with my stepdad, Rodger Peters. My next-door neighbor, Robert, was in our squad as well. He had seen and heard nearly everything. They had all come early to see what was going on.

Emily deliberately trampled on Samual Sanchez's foot with her ridiculous high heel boots. When he did not get out of her way quickly enough. Granted, it made her long legs look even taller under her sexy white leather mini-skirt. But it made her look cheap as fuck as well. Earning her the rep around campus that she was an easy slut.
Sam was the top-dude in our group. A butch Latino mother fucking wrestling jock that could rip you limb from limb. Not my best mate. But a very good friend never the less.
I will spare you the heated Spanish argument that followed between these two Latino hot-heads. But Samual Sanchez won it, hands down. Emily stormed off in anger. Leaving my family and friends to look in astonishment at the slamming back door. I knew breaking up with Emily would be a messy affair. But she made it very easy for me.

"Okay... Good riddance to bad rubbish..." I sighed, relieved. "Shall we get going then?" I asked my stunned mates and their girlfriends.
I wrapped an arm around Josef's neck, and the guys and their girls followed Sam and me as we walked to the city center. The men all wanted to know about my black eye and my butch leather jacket. The guys also made Tiny feel as if he was a regular part of our squad as well. That lifted his spirits, acting as if he was 10 feet tall.

"Mate..." asked Samual softly, "Stockman, you do know there will be hell to pay once the school finds out you got dumped by that bitch, right?" he whispered at me.
I answered him honestly, "Man... If she had not dumped me now, then I would have done it myself after this evening... We were done anyway... We haven't had sex in a couple of months now... But I heard she has been fucking around my back enough... Sorry about your foot, though, Sam."
Samual grinned and winked at me. He laid a hand on my shoulder and squeezed the leather. "Nice jacket, bro... Makes you look very cool, man... Is it okay if we hang out a bit more, Dylan?"
I could not believe my ears. Heck, I was stunned to discover that our group's leader wanted to hang out with a mediocre jock like me.
"Sure... I think I'd like that, bro," I said as coolly as I could. I had never called Samual bro before.
"Cool..." whispered Sam. Giving my shoulder another warm squeeze. 

The fact that a punk like me got invited into this squad had always amazed me a little bit. The men were the popular guys in college. Most of the powerful jocks played basketball, and some were on the wrestling team. I was the odd one out. I was on the college swim team.
Most guys had a girlfriend to screw around with. And if they weren't around, the men were not adverse to help each other out. It wasn't uncommon to find the dude's pork more than a few asses in the process. We even had a couple of friends in our squad that had come out. And that did not change anything within the group. 

We went to our favorite hangout. In the local diner, we had some snacks and drinks together. The restaurant had been booked by Samual and his girlfriend. So we had the run of the place. The girls had even decorated the joint. I thought I had to pay for the food and the cinema this evening. But the group had even taken care of that. The 9 guys, 6 girls, Josef, and I had a blast of a time. We started the evening with a couple of drinks and cake. I did not want Tiny to feel awkward, so I ordered the two of us some sodas rather than the beers that the rest gobbled up as if it was tap water.

After a few drinks, I asked Samual, "Excuse me, Sam... Can you let me pass.... I've got to take a leak." Sanchez got up out of the booth and let me slide past him.
"Hold up, birthday boy!... I'll join you," called the tough Latino wrestling team's captain to me.

We walked to the toilets together. I took the stall next to Samual. Sanchez had made me too nervous to use the urinals. I really looked up to this Latino god. The stories I heard about his stamina made my dick twitch every time we met. I knew he had screwed around a lot with his wrestling mates. Making the stories about him even more incredible. I think he must be bi. Because the number of girls that claimed to have the pleasure of his butch 8-inch Latino cock were numerous as well.

To my surprise, the toilet stall had a huge oval glory hole. Bending forward, I took a quick sneaky peek and saw Samual heave himself out of his gray and black varsity shorts. The dude wore a leather cock strap with small spikes around his cock and balls. Making the shaved Latino monster look even butcher than I had ever envisioned.
Needless to say, after glancing Sanchez through the glory hole, I had a little issue draining my lizard. I had to sit down to piss. The racehorse next to me finished with a few grunts. I could hear Sam's wristwatch jingle as he shook the last drops of piss off.

"Fuck, I am so horny..." huffed Sam under his breath from the stall next door. He started to stroke the tanned tool. The metal band of the watch clanked seductively against the cock strap.
"Need a hand, dude?... " I grinningly asked. Without a second thought, Samual thrust his meat through the hole. Making it wiggle naughtily up and down. As much to say as, "Come and get it..."
"Shit, that man was big," I thought. Probably as long as mine, but a lot wider. With a huge knob to die for. Nice and pointy, with a piss slit that was already moist with pre-cum. Suddenly the thought shot through my mind, "He's just as wide as master Tylor... Go on... You took Tylors 10-pounder... So you can take this one too!"

I laid the hot tool in my hand. As if I was weighing the thing. Making Sanchez moan in anticipation. I unwrapped a rubber and quickly snapped it over the amazing dick. Twisting my ass off the toilet seat, I guided the pointing knob direct into my fuck-hole. I pushed right back over the rock-hard Latino cock while my cargo shorts dropped around my ankles.
"Ooh?... Shit, man..." gasped Sanchez in the stall next to me. He clearly had not expected me to ride his boner to the hilt. Moaning, "Fuck dude... I thought... I wanted you to suck... Ufff... Shit, man... You're so tight... Fuck, man... This is nice!" grinned Samual dirty.
"Damn... That thing is so big, Sanchez!" I whispered back to him.
"Yeah... Slide that hot-hole over it... Fuck me, man... Ride that big cock, Stockman... You take me so well?... You have done this before, dude..."
I felt caught. So I quickly lied, "I've screwed around with a nice fat buttplug earlier... But this is much nicer."
"Oh hell... You can say that again!... Man, you got such a nice tight ass!"
"Let's have some fucking fun, Sanchez... Nail my cunt, bro... Unless... Ummm..."
"What?... I am not hurting you... Am I?" said Samual in shock.
"Not too much, no... I've stretched my muscle open today... No, I was wondering about you and your woman..."
"Don't you worry about her, Dylan... Isabella and I are taking a break... Man, I haven't laid anyone in a while... I'll explode if I don't fuck some hole tonight... Look's like your it!" grinned Samual Sanchez dirty.
"Mmmm... Nice big dong, man... But, Sam, you can go a bit rougher than that, though... We don't want to keep the rest waiting... Ride my birthday-hole open stud!... Take me!... Fill that rubber, man!" I moaned hornily back at Sam.

While I stood there, bent over with my butt pressed against the partition wall, I got to thinking, "Why is he all of a sudden into me?... Shit, this is nice and all... But Samual has never shown this much interest in me... Was he doing me out of pity?... Because I broke up with Emily?... Or... Was he perhaps master Tylors other bitch-boy?... He couldn't be... Could he?"
"Dude... Are you still with me?" asked Samual stunned at my silence. "Why have you gone all quiet?... Something wrong, Stockman?" Samual stopped all pumping motions in and out of my ass.
"Oh... Ummm... Nope... Well... Oh fuck, man... Don't get angry at me... But why do you all of a sudden want to hang out with me, Sanchez?... You're not doing this because you feel sorry for me breaking up with Em, are you?"
"Ha ha ha... Is that it?... Dude... Fuck no!... I have always liked your look, Dyl... And once I saw you wear that butch leather jacket... Well, need I say more... I think you look damned hot in that... And to be honest... I've wanted to nail you since the first time I saw you swim for our college..."
"Ohh... really?... In that case, get that thing over here and nail me harder, dude... Enjoy yourself... Who knows when this will happen again?" I asked him submissively. 

Samual swiftly pulled out my ass and moved to my stall. I let the 6'2" Latino muscle god inside. Sitting on the toilet, I looked grinningly up at the stunned Sanchez. I removed his rubber and deep-throated the rough dick. Sam lovingly slid his fingers through my wild bushy brown hair as he started to pump in and out of my mouth. I could feel he was getting close. His thrusts turned a little shorter and more violent. Pressing the pointy knob deeper into my mouth with every pump forward.

I pushed him off and turned around, saying, "Want to plant your DNA up there?"
"Can I?... really?... Fucking hell, Yeah... Bring it!"
I placed my hands on the toilet seat and bent my ass up to Sanchez. Samual slid his throbbing Latino rod bare inside. Slamming his hips against my thighs. Fucking my brain out. Nearly soundlessly breeding me deeply. He pulled me up against his broad chest when he came hard inside. Huffing and breathing heavy into my ear. His cock still making slow full strokes in and out my stretched cum-filled fuck-hole.
"Dude... I could get used to this, Sam..." I breathed hotly to my unexpected lover. "You got such a nice technique... And your dick ain't half bad either... I just wished I had known you wanted this too... I would have loved to experiment with you much sooner."
"Yeah... Me too, Dyl... I think I am turning gay..." whispered Samual, a little shyly.
"I know that feeling, dude..." I calmly answered as I felt Sam grab my dick and stroke one out for me. He watched me shoot a few tiny streams into the bowl in front of us.
"Ha... You have been fooling around today... All dried up... Good that I gave you a refill then..." laughed Samual naughtily. Slowly withdrawing his dirty Latino fuck-meat out of my burning asshole. It had seen a little too much action today. Not that I had any regrets. I had loved both men doing me dirty this way.

We cleaned up and went back to the group. When we walked back into the diner, I coughed, asking the group, "Want to go see a movie?... Or are we skipping that and go somewhere a little more private?" I saw our group was getting a little frisky. They had coupled up and were fooling around already.

During the movie, the cinema's back row saw a lot of hot action. And after the movie, the group went to one of the dorm buildings of the wrestling team. Where most of them continued the hot festivities.
However, I said my goodbyes to the group outside the theater. Making up some cock-and-bull story that I needed to take Josef home. Giving Samual Sanchez my phone number, asking him to send me some action shots. The squad grinned and wished me a happy birthday. Thanking me for a lovely evening.

Josef grinningly told me he had sex in one of the cinema's toilets. Robert had taken his girl up the ass, inviting Tiny to slam his 7-inch rubbered man-tool into his woman. My younger brother had the time of his life. Hanging out with the young adults. Josef was what I called pansexual. Or at least he was experimenting along those lines. The dude did not mind whom he loved. Or who he made love to, for that matter. But he was really curious about the whole subject of sex.

"Dylan?... what happened between you and mister Rawley this afternoon?... Did you two really do it?" asked Josef when we neared our cul-de-sac.
"Ummm... Not sure if I should tell you this, bro... But since we are sharing... Yeah, I have served him... I saw him riding his bike home, all dressed in his cool leathers... I went to take a sneaky look... Long story short... He showed me what it felt like to get fucked by a tough butch man like master Tylor... But don't you dare tell that to anyone else!... And don't even think about hooking up with him yourself, Tiny... He's way out of your league!... He would rip your ass in two in a heartbeat... And I am not just saying that either!... He really is that rough... But he looked so fuckin' nice."

"Ah... Now I see... You've always had a thing for tough guys... Haven't you, Dyl?... I must say... that jacket suits you, man."
"Yeah... Thanks... I love it... But I think I am going to give it back to master Tylor."
"Huh?... Why?... I thought you liked that jacket, Dylan."
"I don't want to be... Ummm... I don't want to be owned by him... I am not sure I am ready for shit like that."

Moments later, mister Rawley's motorcycle roared to a halt next to us.
"Hey boy's, also had a night on the town?" he asked in a casual tone of voice. But that changed quite quickly.

"Stockman... You were supposed to text me your phone number, remember?... So I can give you instructions or call you to service me!... Why haven't you, bitch-boy?"
"Look, man... This afternoon was fun... But I can't do this... I am my own man!"
"Like hell you are!... You wear my clothes, so I own you, punk!... You're my bitch... Don't you forget it!"
"Right... Well, I'll see to it that you get your stuff back first thing tomorrow morning... master Tylor," I said as I guided Josef away from Tylor Rawley.
"Do you know what happens to bitches that don't obey me, Stockman?..." called mister Rawley over the cul-de-sac to us. I knew I had done something wrong. And that Rawley wanted revenge. But we had already walked over to our home.

Our mom greeted us in the kitchen. She was a little surprised to see us home this early. The family and friends had left, and she was about to get ready for bed herself. My stepdad, Rodger Peters, wasn't home yet.
"Mom... Is it okay if I sleep in Dylan's room tonight... I'd like to avoid Dad." asked Josef without giving me a chance to object.
"Sure you can, Jo... Dylan... can you drive Josef to school tomorrow morning, son?"
"Okay..." I answered our mother, a little surprised. I had not slept in one bed with Josef since we were kids. It felt a bit strange and awkward. But as soon as Josef laid on his side next to me, he grabbed my arm. Pulling it over his hips as a blanket. I spooned him and kissed the back of Jo's neck. Wishing him a goodnight. 

"Sure you don't want to play with this?" asked Josef guiding my hand over his man-tool. The thing was rock-hard. I had seen Josef's dick when we were kids. But what he sported down there now was impressive. The thing had grown so big that its proportion did not match Tiny's small stature.
"Ha... No chance, Tiny... You're not making a mess in my bed... Go to sleep... You got plenty of time for shit like this... Don't be in such a hurry to grow up either... Enjoy your childhood, bro... Goodnight, buddy."
"Ah... You may have a point there... Oh well... Sleep well, Dylan... See you tomorrow."

Before I drove Josef to school the following morning, I dropped master Tylor's stuff off at his doorstep. I had the feeling that someone was watching me. I only kept the leather wristband as a reminder of the great sex we shared. Even though the threat that he uttered last night was still reverberating in my head, "... Do you know what happens to bitches that don't obey?..." had master Tylor called out to me.

No, I actually did not know that, but I did like the feeling the leather jacket had given me. I loved the weight, the smell, and the texture of the cowhide around my torso. Thinking that I would need to get myself a nice set of leathers of my own. At least enough to impress someone like master Tylor. That is, if I ever plucked up enough courage to go clubbing dressed in leather. I already knew about a few gay clubs that I was dying to visit now. Wanting to experience that scene too.

I had no classes that day. But I still walked into the college's main building. Outside I got greeted by a group of thuggish-looking gangbangers.
"Look who dares to show his face... Man, You've got some nerve!" called one of the 5 nasty men to me. The skinny black dude got backed up by his mates. They all started to shout and point at me as if I was some kind of criminal. When I walked through the hallway to my locker, I quickly found out why that was.

Emily Garcia and her cheerleading team had plastered the building with wanted posters. It showed a selfie picture of Emily and me. It looked as if I was raping the bitch. My hands wrapped around her throat in anger. A used syringe lay next to her arm. She tried to push the dude behind her away. Her eyes showed the fucker had drugged her with some illicit substance. The text under the wanted poster read: "WARNING: Stockman is a sex offender!"

I grasped an enlarged color picture from the notice board and hid myself in one of the toilets. Examining the image more closely. I knew that this dude wasn't me. For one thing, I did not have a tattoo, and my pecs and arms were a lot bigger than this asshole, brutally doing my woman. The date on that selfie showed that it could not have been me anyway. The picture was taking in one of the dorms. And I was out of state with the swim-team and our coaches for a championship. This was in the first or second month I started to attend college. It wasn't long after I had plucked up the courage to ask Emily if she wanted to go steady with me. Heck, you could clearly see the seem where my face was pasted over this fucker. But it appeared that the damage was already done. The people at school had seen the pictures. Leaving me to have to defend myself against these lies.

Everywhere I went, I got followed by that group of gangbanging thugs. Pointing and sneering at me. Setting me up for the fall. The rest of the school followed their lead. I knew it was no use to run away. So I went out the back of the main building. Hoping I could find some peace and quiet in the aquatic center on campus. Thinking I might go to the gym there and workout a bit.

However, the thugs had even followed me out there. I started to run. And the pack growled and jeered after me. Calling me a rapist and other niceties to the enjoyment of the other students. Even Samual and his mates joined in the namecalling. That hurt me the most. Thinking I lost whatever respect I had with them.

Behind the visitor's grandstand at the football field, the thugs caught up with me. They dragged me down the alley between the groundskeeper's shop and the grandstand. I got jumped by 4 guys. One of the thugs stood as a lookout at the entrance to the dead-end alley. I got pushed into the groundskeeper's workshop via a hole in the wall. Three skinny black gangbangers and their white brother did a number on me there. Beating me to the ground and laying me over a barrel.

"Show him what it feels like to get ass-raped, guys!" ordered their leader.
One by one, the dudes abused my ass. I could not scream or move. My mouth and hands were duct-taped. And my legs were taped spread apart with a broomstick between them.
"Oh... Tight bitch... Guys!" called the first that fingered my hole open before he pressed his 8-inch dick inside my sphincter.
"Yeah... Fuck him... Show him what it feels like!" called the others as he nailed my hole.
The second was a white Taxes, dude. "He won't be able to walk upright! Y'all... His ass is mine now!"
"Yeah... Slam him hard!... Beat the shit out that mother fucker Tax-ass" called their leader to him.
"Yes, man... Wait until Jim drills you're punk-ass deep... He learned his tricks from a real nasty master... He'll make your ass bleed!" jeered one of the thugs.
The thug's leader that the men called Jim was next. His enormous black slong was 11-inches long. The man cheered him on as he twisted my arms up. The sleeve of my coat pulled away from my wrist. Revealing master Tylor's marked leather wrist band. As soon as the onslaught had started, it was over. I heard Jim call, "Oh shit!... Leave him... Dodge cut him free... Do it!... He's owned... Fuck I screwed up... Tylor set me up... Oh, fuck... That asshole!" The men gasped when they saw what Jim had seen. My arms got cut free as the thugs legged it.

I sat on the barrel in surprise. The thugs had brutalized me but had not finished their job. It took me a while before I had gathered my clothes and cut me free of my bonds. With a sigh and a sore ass, I went to the aquatic center's gym. My locker there had a clean tracksuit, and it was the nearest point that I felt sort of safe. Not every student was allowed in there.

When I walked inside the gym, my eye fell on one of the pictures on the wall. The framed photo of me hung a bit crooked, so I straightened it out. It showed me screaming my head off in joy. I had just won a very important race in a record time when that photo was taken at the beginning of the school year. I took it off the wall and put it into my backpack. After I had cleaned myself up and changed into my tracksuit, I sat down on one of the weight lifting apparatus. With a heavy-hearted sigh, I started to do some bicep curls.

The swim coach came running into the gym. Accompanied by the principal, the school's lawyer, and a hand full of police officers. Even Emily's parents had joined them. Shouting at me, "That's him!... He abused my girl!"
"Stockman!..." shouted the coach furiously, as he half-ran toward me, "... Are these rumors about you true?..." He angrily thrust a pile of Emily's blackmail pictures into my face.
"No... Of course not, coach!... She broke up with me yesterday... And now she has marked me as damaged goods!..." I replied, hurt.
"Well, this picture tell's a different story!... You're off my team!... Fucker!... You don't treat women like that!"
"Right... Stockman, you are suspended pending a disciplinary hearing!" called the principal harshly.

The police officers cuffed me and guided me on foot away to the parking lot. Making sure every student could see them apprehend the apparent assailant. The words from my father had taught me well. "If you have done nothing wrong, then you have nothing to fear... Keep your head up and take the time to sort things out calmly." I made a mental note to thank Charles Stockman for these wise words. I calmly walked with the officers to the police cars. They took me to the police station, where I presented my evidence. Within 15 minutes, I was cleared of all charges. They even gave me a lift back to school at my request. 

As soon as I stepped through the main doors again, I bumped into Samual and his mates. The asshole gave me the stink eye. I ignored him with my head held high. Marching myself into the principal's office, followed by the sheriff.

Placing the color picture of Emily's blackmail image next to my celebratory photo on her desk. It showed them that both pictures had the exact same image of my face on them. I silently pointed to the seam where my head was pasted onto the rapist's torso. I even bared my upper arms, pointing to the guys' tattoo and my pristine skin. Showing them the date in Emily's photo.
"Look..." I calmly stated to her and the school's lawyer. "I was out of state with the entire swim team and our coach... So this can't be me... Even if I am already convicted by you!"
"Ma'am... It's clear that you have made up your mind before examining all the evidence!... That makes you an accomplice to slander and blackmail in my mind!... I will get myself some representation and sue this school." I said calmly to the principal.
"Now, now... We don't have to take that route..." stuttered the school's lawyer. The rest of the people in her office gasped at the evidence I supplied.
"Ma'am... Are we done here?... Am I still suspended?... I assume you are going to rectify the damage to my reputation?... Or do I really have to take you to court?" I asked the principal with my trademark squinting eyes.

The lunch bell rang, and the principal and a female officer walked over to Emily Garcia in the schools' cafeteria. Followed by her fuming parents and the school's lawyer.
The principal addressed the assembled students. Telling them that the rumors about me were grossly over-stated and that I wasn't accused of doing her any harm. Informing the students that the accusations she made were an utter lie and that miss Garcia was getting expelled for it.

I had indeed asked Emily a few times if I could screw her up the ass too. But she had never allowed me to come anywhere near her back door. Not even to lick it.
I think I now know why that was. Emily had actually been brutally ass-fucked when she took that selfie as proof. It must have been only a few weeks after we started to go steady. She had acted very coy to me in the beginning. Never even wanting to have sex with me at first. The picture had indeed told a thousand lies. And most of the school seemed to understand that.

I had taken a few days off school after that faithful day. Hoping the trouble would blow over in a couple of weeks. In that time off school, I took a trip downtown. I had found an address for a leather store. It turned out that they sold a lot more than leather clothing there. This store is a one-stop-shop for anything leather, rubber, bondage, and sex-related toys. Mostly geared toward gay males. I was asked to present my ID. The store did not receive many 18-year-old punk jocks. So they were pleased, but a little surprised, that I wanted to get me some leather jeans, a pair of chaps, a cool jacket, and a butch harness. 

A couple of hours later, I walked out the door, completely kitted out. Not that I would wear all this stuff in one go. No, I would tone it down with some normal jeans or my tracksuits. The leather gear was quite expensive, but on the jacket, I lucked out. Someone had himself a custom butch biker jacket made, but he had failed to collect it. So once I tried it on for size, the shop practically gave it away. The jacket was in the same style as that classic jacket master Tylor liked to wear. But this one is much more understated. It has no belt, no shoulder straps, or chrome buttons. Everything on it was in black. Exactly as I had hoped to find. Sportive, youthful, and still classically butch. It quickly became my favorite coat to wear to school. Making me look as tough as I liked to feel.

In the days and weeks that followed, my mind kept spooling back to what master Tylor had told me. There was another bitch-boy of his at this college. I had a good idea now on who that might be. But I had not seen any of the thugs around campus.
As soon as I returned to school, I laid low for a while. There were still plenty of people that rigidly believed the lies that Garcia had spread about me. Even though the guy in the picture had been identified by his tattoo and arrested. Or that Emily had been expelled for spreading these lies.

Rather than eating lunch in the cafeteria, I took my homemade sandwiches to the training pool. Eating my lunch on the bleachers' top row, watching the guys do their daily swim training.
The coach walked over to the foot of the bleachers and shyly asked, "Ummm... Stockman?... I want you to... Your... Ummm... I need you to rejoin the team."
"Oh?... So the judge, jury, and the executioner have finally decided that I am not guilty?... Don't think so, coach... You hurt me way too much for that!"
"Don't be a prick, freshmen... You are a medal winner... We need you!"
"Ha... Yeah right... Well, I will give it some thought... Don't hold your breath, though, coach."
The coach stumped away in angry disappointment. Making the swim team do 10 laps around the pool.

Chan, a senior student, and the unelected team captain snuck away from the team. Sitting himself down on the seat next to me.
"How are you doing, Dylan?" he asked with a slight smirk on his face.
"Ah... Well... freshman issues... What can I say?"
"Right... Dyl, the team, and I have been discussing it... We could really do with someone like you on our team... Can you please come back?"
"Did the coach put you up to this, Chan?"
"Oh... No... Of course not... This was our team decision."
"Well, get the coach to apologize for not believing in my innocence, and I will gladly return... But we both know that's never going to happen... Ha! ... I doubt he even knows the meaning of the word apologize!"
"Oh... I would not say that... My brother owns a gay nightclub... I've seen him down in the dungeon on his knees plenty of times..."

I looked incredulously over at Chan. I softly asked him, "Is he gay then?"
"As queer as fuck... I've done him a few times... A little sissy bitch that one!"
"Huh?... Are... Ummm... are you...?" I stuttered at that revelation.
"Gay?... Yeah, dude... And so are you, I think... God damn, don't give me that look, Dylan!... It takes one, to know one!... But the team doesn't need to know if you don't want it... Let me work on the coach... And we can meet-up at my brother's club... We are always happy to see butch leather-wearing studs like you there too... Nice jeans, by the way." Chan laid his hand on the inside of my thigh and stroked my leathered leg. Slowly working his hand over my throbbing cock-bulge. Giving it a horny squeeze. "Mmm, nice fat tool, kiddo... Here take hold of this one!" Chan grasped my hand and stuffed it unceremoniously down his speedo's. Making me jerk him off for a few moments. He bumped his shoulder to mine and left with a nasty wink. Telling me that he would drop a life-time VIP-pass to 'The Boots' in my locker. 

A little dazed by all this news - and horny as fuck - I left the pool. I saw Samual Sanchez approach me, and I tried to walk in a different direction.
"Hey, wait up, Stockman!" he called over to me. Sam tried to give me a warm bro hug. I quickly broke away. I was still angry with him.
"What's up?... Why the cold shoulder, dude?... I thought we were amigos?"
"Right... One day you give me the stink-eye... And now we're friends again?... What's up with that?"
"Ah... Sorry, that was because of Isabella... But she's past tense now... I've broken up with her because she kept spreading lies about you, Dylan... I much rather be with a butch guy like you... I fucking love those leather jeans, dude... You turn me on!... Want to go for a walk so we can talk and...?"
"Hmmm... Ya... Why not?... I could do with a friend... And a good fuck!"
"Ha, you read my mind, Stockman!" He laughed, but Sam's demeanor told a different story. He was nervous as hell.

We walked over to his dorm building. Chatting about this, that, and the other. But Samual seemed unusually tense. Usually, the Latino wrestler is the life of every party. It was clear that he was holding something back from me. When we walked past some of our other friends, he faked a grin. It disappeared like snow for the sun once we walked out of sight, though. Samual was so nervous that I started to feel really uncomfortable myself.

Sam slammed the door of his dorm room closed behind us. Trying to lock the door without much success. I laid my hand calmingly over his and locked the door for him.
"Sam... Dude?... What's up?... You act like you've seen a ghost... Calm down, bro... I know you want to ask or tell me something... But I can't help you if you don't slow your brain down... Here... Let's sit down on the bed and say absolutely nothing... Just lay down with me," I said as I took his shaking hand and guided him to his bed. It was clear that he had planned this meeting. His dorm room seemed much cleaner than usual. He had vacuumed it and even had put fresh sheets on his bed.

I took off my t-shirt and laid on my back with my legs spread wide. Gesturing to Samual to lay on top of me by tapping on my chest. Sam crawled over me and laid down.
"That's right, buddy... Give me a cuddle first... We can talk later, bro..." I wrapped my arms around Sanchez and bear-hugged him. Pressing his head onto my shoulder. "Mmmm, nice!... Take a few deep breaths and let your body relax... I've got you, dude."
Sam's breath started to jitter as he let his full body-weight pin me to his mattress. Not a bad feeling either. Caressing the back of his head with one hand. And sliding the other straight into the back of his jeans. Toying with his buttocks, I felt rather than heard the man cry.

"Shhh, Sam... It's okay... Take your time, buddy... Actually, take as much time as you need... I like the way your strong body feels on top of mine..." I whispered softly. Nuzzling his neck and suckling his earlobe. Samual calmed down considerably. He realized that he liked this feeling as well.
I asked him softly, "Am I right that you have planed this?... And you worry I may react badly, right?... Buddy, nothing you say or do will shock me... Ask me anything... and you will get an honest answer, I promise."
"Dylan, I think I am in love with you..." sighed Samual facing away from me after a while. His head was still pressed onto my shoulder.
"Good... I am happy to hear that, Sam."
"Dylan, do you want to be my boyfriend?" asked Samual looking at me in horrified anticipation.
"Ah... Ummm?... Yeah... Maybe in a few months, after we dated a couple of times, you should ask that again... But yes... I think I would love that, Jefe." Sam looked in shock at me. So I added in my best spanish, "Jefe, yo también te amo bebé..."
"Ha ha ha..." laughed Samual with a nasty smirk.
"What?... Did I say it wrong?"
"Nope... I love you too, baby... But I did not know you spoke Spanish this well, Dylan."
"Ah... shut up and fuck me already, Jefe..." I moaned hornily, as Samual continued to laugh at me.
"Okay... but actually... Ummm... I want you to fuck me instead, Dylan... Nice and rough like."

"Oh?... Ummm... I thought you were a top, Sam."
"Yeah, strictly speaking, I am... But every now and then..."
"Here is the thing, though... I am not that experienced in making love to a guy... And I think I prefer to bottom for a strong bull like you are, Samual."
"Okay... Well, then I will just order you to nail my ass raw... And punish you if you do it too softly!... Now fuck me already, bitch!" laughed Samual dominatingly.

We had a nice time. Flip-fucking each other like rabbits for a couple of hours. Making a mess of Samual's dorm room. It was well past dinner when I invited Samual to spend the rest of the weekend with me at my place. We showered, and Samual grabbed a weekend bag. Dressing himself in a tough-looking wrestling shirt and a ripped pair of faded blue jeans. Hanging a butch leather jacket over his shoulders. Stunned, I gazed at my buddy in awe.
"Looks good on you too, Jefe... I do love me a leathered muscled boss like you to protect me."
"Ha... I'll do more than protect you... Bebé... Fuck, we look cool together, Dylan!"

From the other side of the cul-de-sac, master Tylor saw two butch twink jocks walking arm in arm toward him. One in leather jeans, the other in a tough leather jacket. He called us over to his driveway.
"Looking good, men!... I see Dylan has a good eye for picking tough friends."
"Tylor, meet master Sanchez... He's more my size... Sam... This is Tylor Rawley... He is the asshole I have told you about... He set those thugs loose on me!"

Sam swung his fist and knocked master Tylor to the ground in a blink of an eye. We stepped over him as we walked to my home. Where we ate and spent the rest of the weekend together. Going shopping in the leather store for kinky shit. That weekend we even went clubbing dressed in our new leathers in 'The Boots', hooking up with Chan and master Tylor's bitch-boy Jim Rozewood. 

- Continued in Part 3 -

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(C) StrykerJ - 2021-03