Everyone is 18+ and fully consenting. Two part story.
The WhatsApp notification popped up in a sharp, cold flash of blue light.
SilverDaddyScout99: I'll pay you 1k if you frame your big boy dick up against some lace panties of a college bitch.
I lay flat on my back on the navy comforter, thumb hovering over the scratched glass of my iPhone.
More than 3k total. Which was like an insane payday for content. That was the unbelievable number on the table for the full video contract.
I just needed to find the college bitch to go along with it.
Some anonymous scout for a high-end production network had dug up my old profile from a Reddit forum where I'd posted a slutty thirst trap six or seven months ago. I’d posted those shots during a desperate week when I was short on my half of the rent and didn’t want to ask my mom or dad for a loan.
Apparently my hung selfie was still floating around the darker corners of the internet. They wanted this meat. And bad. I mean I thought of it. It sounded too good to be true. Yeah I had a big dick. But why would my big dick get an exclusive multi-video contract?
I guess this was the test and tryout to make sure I was no catfish.
The parameters from the scout were very rigid.
A ten-second video.
My dick hovering directly over some chick’s ass. Preferably she would be in lace or panties, just enough to look like a standard teaser clip before an actual premium scene drops behind a paywall. No faces. No identifiable background details. Just the raw, high-contrast view of bare skin on skin. Yum.
There was only one problem.
I was completely out of options for a female lead.
The last girl I’d brought back to the dorm had stopped answering my texts a week ago because she heard rumors I was a pump & dumper. So I guess she dumped me first. We’d had a stupid, text-heavy argument about her dumb roommates. Then she must have hid my stories.
This other chick from my psych seminar was currently back home in NJ for the weekend, dealing with some family thing.
Meanwhile, my balls were absolutely aching.
I’d gone four full days without a release.
I was ready to explode.
Four days of walking around campus like a locked engine with way too much pressure building up in the valves. I’d spent almost two hours at the gym earlier trying to burn the edge off, stacking high number shit on the squat rack until my quads were trembling and my tee was soaked. It hadn’t done shit for the heat in my groin though.
It just made me restless. And yeah, kind of aggressive.
It was that heavy, focused kind of horny where you start staring too long at the edge of the kitchen counter or tracking the curve of a door frame.
I call it blue balls dissociation.
I looked up from the screen.
Across our four hundred square feet of our shared linoleum, Toby was sitting at his desk.
Happy go lucky Toby.
He was staring at his laptop with his chin buried deep in his palm, completely locked into whatever he was reading. He was wearing his baggy gray gym sweatpants and a beat-up heather hoodie. His lanky frame was slouched over some chemistry problem like he was trying to bore a hole through the monitor with his eyes.
He looked completely oblivious.
We’d lived together in room 412 for fourteen months. We shared a bathroom, a mini-fridge, some dry-erase board that kept a running tally of who bought the eggs, who owed who for the paper towels. Adult shit. We knew each other’s schedules and gym splits.
There was a comfortable, stupid rhythm to the space. One where you don’t even think twice about walking around in your boxers. Or maybe I don't know just changing shirts while the other guy is sitting three feet away munching toast.
But underneath that, if I was being completely honest with myself, we sized each other up pretty instantly.
You don’t live that close to another athletic guy without tracking his build. You notice the width of the shoulders when he’s brushing his teeth. You track the line of his back when he’s pulling a clean shirt out of the drawer. It’s just logistics. And I was the alpha guy, by far.
"Hey, chud bud," I said, tossing my phone onto the comforter next to my hip.
Toby didn't look up. "If you're asking me to drive you to Price Shopper again, I can't."
"Nope. Not that," I said, standing up from the bed.
I stretched my arms over my head, letting my t-shirt ride up until the cut of my lower abs and the top of my v-line were fully exposed in the dim light of the desk lamp.
I stepped across the rug, my sneakers squeaking slightly against the bare floorboards as I stopped right by the edge of his desk chair.
"Young Man, I need you for a high-yield business venture," I said in my best sales voice.
Toby finally turned his head. His brow was furrowed in that skeptical way he always used when he thought I was about to ask him to do shit. We had hauled a sectional couch down three flights of stairs last week and he was still a cranky bitch on my dick about it.
"What kind of business venture," he asked.
"Three grand," I said, pointing back toward my phone on the bed. "Some scout online wants a verification file. Ten seconds of video. My dick bouncing above an ass. No faces, total anonymity."
Toby blinked.
He closed his laptop halfway, the blue light fading from his face. "Okay. Go find a girl. That's your big department."
"None of them are around, ya doosh. Ms. Jersey Housewives is gone, and the scout closes this booking at, like, I don't know, tonight. Tonight like midnight. I have exactly forty minutes to upload a quick vid or the slot goes to some cuck in Florida."
I leaned my hand flat on the back of his chair. I loomed over him just enough to force his chin up, cutting off his line of sight to the monitor.
"I'll give you two hundred and fifty bucks just to pull your pants down and get on all fours on my bed for three minutes," I said.
The room went completely quiet.
It wasn't a normal quiet. It was that loud, specific silence that happens when you accidentally drop shit and are waiting for it to shatter or maybe just bounce nicely. I also had a kind of swagger and charm. I loved the smell of my own farts, for sure.
Toby stared at me. His mouth opened a fraction, then closed.
"You want me to what..." he managed.
"Two hundred and fifty, Toby Tobe. Cmon! It's good ol' fat fast cash. Fuck your paper. Assist me."
I knew his finances. He wasn't poor by any means, but he was always bitching and moaning about being broke for this or that reason. Pinned against the wall by his own textbook syllabus and lust for being mommy and daddy's good boy.
"You won't have to do anything," I pressed, my voice dropping into that construction guy bro register I used when I needed something done without a hassle. "You just lay there. I tilt the camera down so the lens only catches at most, hmm... Your lower back. In the dark, on a navy sheet, it just looks like an anonymous smooth chick's ass. Ten seconds of vid, then I hit send, then you got more textbook money."
"You're a literal psycho, dude," Toby said.
But his voice didn't have any teeth behind it.
I could see the exact moment the logistics clicked behind his eyes.
"Two hundred and fifty," I repeated, my thumb tapping the wood of his chair. "Nobody ever sees it. The scout deletes the verification clip after the contract transfer clears on the backend. It's a deal, man."
Toby let out a long, defeated sigh that seemed to start somewhere inside him and work its way up his throat.
He looked at his closed laptop. Then he turned his head to look at the dark corner where my bed sat under the amber desk lamp.
"No faces," he muttered. "At all?"
"I'll chop the frame at your lower spine, bro. Trust me. I know how to manage a crop."
"Two fifty," he said, standing up from the desk.
He hooked his fingers into the pocket of his hoodie, his shoulders slouched in surrender. "And you buy the gas for the week. All of it."
"Done," I said. "Get on the bed."
Toby walked across the floor, his white socks hitting the edge of my rug.
The casual roommate register just collapsed. He wasn't moving like a guy who was about to help do laundry or pass the remote anymore. He was quiet. Not too too guarded.
He stopped at the foot of my mattress and hooked his thumbs into the elastic waistband of his gray sweatpants.
He went slow.
There was this sudden, heavy layout hitting the air as he peeled the fleece down past his knees, along with his plain boxers, stepping out of the fabric with a careful, self-conscious transfer of weight.
He kicked the pile of clothes onto the floorboards.
Then he got onto my mattress on all fours.
He placed his hands flat under his shoulders and spread his knees about six inches apart on the navy comforter. His head hung low between his arms so he was staring straight down at the fabric, avoiding my eyes entirely.
I felt my breath hitch hard against my ribs.
Toby didn't have that bulky type of gym physique that I’d built up from four years of powerlifting. But his frame was clean. Lean. Athletic from running sprint drills with the club side three days a week.
His skin was pale, completely hairless across the wide, firm curves of his glutes. The cheeks looked full and smooth. Pushed up like that, with his lower back arched to keep his balance on the soft mattress, his butt looked incredibly distinct.
Kinda perky, not gonna lie.
In this light, stripped of his baggy gray fleece layers, the view was still anonymous.
And it was hot. Raw hot. Perfect material.
"Like this?" Toby muttered into the pillowcase.
His voice sounded tight. Thin. He was so worried to please, ha.
"Yeah," I said, my voice like a born hustler. "Just like that. Don't move a muscle."
I didn't waste any more time planning the logistics.
I reached down and ripped my own sweatpants off, letting them hit the linoleum along with my briefs.
My dick came out fully awake.
This wasn't a half-situation type deal.
I had an absolute weapon of a dick. And my hard dick was pulsing with crazy, crazy lust at this point for nearly anything. Breath optional. I could feel my jock drip atop the veiny head wanting to go somewhere. Ever since I was young my dick gets super super warm whenever I'm feeling this horned up.
So, yeah, going four days dry had turned it into a loaded weapon. And the sheer transgressive wrongness of having my roommate on all fours like a dumb bitch on my mattress was pushing my lil monster past the breaking point.
I stepped onto the mattress behind him, the springs softly adding my weight.
I straddled the backs of his legs, locking my bare knees tight against his outer thighs to anchor his stance and keep him from sliding around on the slick comforter.
I picked up the phone, angling the lens down.
But as I checked the preview screen, my jaw tightened.
"Wait," I muttered, staring at the digital frame. "Shit. He said it needs to look like a girl's butt in panties or lace shit. We need panties or something. Smooth fabric to cover up your scrawny crack."
Toby grunted, his forehead pressing into his forearms. "I don't exactly keep an inventory of women's underwear in my desk drawers, Gavin."
"Hold on." I had a souvenir. I was sure of it.
I shifted my weight, sliding off his legs for a brief second to rummage through the clutter in the bottom drawer of my nightstand.
Deep in the back, behind a stack of old protein shaker lids and a broken charging cable, my fingers hit something silky.
It was a pair of cheap black lace underwear my ex-girlfriend had left behind three months ago after a weekend visit. It was a tiny, ridiculous scrap of fabric with a thin elastic waistband and zero substance to it. Didn't smell too bad by now.
"Perfect," I said, climbing back onto the bed and settling my knees back around his thighs. "Put these on. Hurry up."
Toby turned his head slightly, his eyes wide and pissed off as he caught sight of the black lace in my fist. "You're fucking joking."
"Two hundred and fifty bucks, Toby. Put the lace on so we can get the shot and hit send. The clock is running."
He snatched the scrap from my hand, cursing under his breath. Poor guy definitely wanted to curse me out. But oh well.
He managed to wiggle his feet through the leg loops while remaining on his knees. It was an awkward, clumsy struggle on the springs, his skin dragging against the navy comforter until he hauled the thin elastic up over his thighs.
He tried to adjust the layout, but the anatomy was completely mismatched.
Toby had the wider, muscular hip structure of a mediocre athlete. Compared to me that is.
The cheap black lace was straining violently against his skin, the thin elastic digging deep into the meat of his hips. He was really really lean to be fair. And the fabric was stretched so tight across his glutes that the lace pattern was completely distorted, bunching up near his hip bones like a bad parachute. Also kinda hot.
Yet it didn't look too smooth. It looked staged. Pretty fake.
Like a dude forcing himself into a gag prop for a frat prank or some joke.
"This looks like garbage," I growled, my voice getting thicker as the heat in my groin felt relentless. I was insanely boned up.
I locked my bare knees back against his thighs.
The rough, dark athletic hair of my legs caught against his smooth, hairless skin with a heavy friction.
I held the iPhone up with my right hand, checking the preview screen again, but the lace was bunching so badly it blocked the wet, natural line of his crack entirely. The guy on WhatsApp would spot it in two seconds.
It wasn’t coming through on camera. It wasn't working.
The tension in the room hit a sudden, boiling threshold.
My hard dick was hovering barely an inch above his skin, throbbing, the heavy head weeping another thick drop of precum that was itching to land on his bare flesh.
I could feel the absolute heat radiating off his body, his bare lower half completely vulnerable beneath my torso.
And the sight of that tight black lace straining against his roommate anatomy snapped the last thread of my patience.
I reached down with my left hand, hooked my fingers deep into the tight elastic waistband at his hip, and yanked as hard as fuck as I could. Enough of this.
The cheap black lace tore with a sharp, pathetic little snap.
I yanked the ruined black lace down Toby’s thighs and tossed it. Oops. This had the nice advantage of leaving his perky college-boy ass completely bare under the dim light. Why not. Lean into the fantasy a little.
"Fake as hell anyway," I muttered.
I stood directly behind him, my sockless feet feeling kinda cold against the linoleum where the rug ended.
I had my iPhone held out in my right hand, checking the framing on the lens, but the shadow from the headboard was completely ruining the layout.
The Telegram guy wanted a clean ten-second tease.
But my balls were aching so heavy from going four days dry that my hand was actually trembling against the dirty ass screen.
You know what? Fuck the video.
I reached out and tossed my iPhone onto the desk behind me.
It landed with a dull, plastic clatter, the screen still glowing uselessly against the dark wood. So much for stardom.
The three-thousand-dollar contract didn't mean shit compared to the heavy, focused kind of horny currently locking up my groin.
I needed to handle one thing more right now.
I brought both of my large, heavy hands down onto Toby's bare hips.
I dug my fingers into the bone and shoved his entire structure forward across the navy comforter.
"Move up, chud bud," I growled. I couldn't help but grinning at how boned up he was. He was so into this. Into it and petrified. Like a nose bleed in a shark tank, my father used to say.
He scrambled on his hands and knees, his skin sliding against his smooth white flesh as I drove him straight into the corner of the room.
I kept pushing until his forehead hit the cold plaster of the wall and his left shoulder was jammed right into the intersecting drywall.
He was completely boxed in. Oops.
Pinned flat against the white drywall on all fours, his head blocked by the corner of the room, his body was unable to move forward a single millimeter.
He couldn't tilt away. He couldn't squirm out of the frame.
The only open space left in his entire universe was directly behind him. Straight onto me.
I stepped onto the mattress, the old springs groaning under my naked weight.
I straddled the backs of his legs, my bare knees locking tight against his outer thighs to anchor his stance and keep him from sliding around on the slick comforter.
I stayed completely upright, my torso separated from his back, letting him feel the dominant gap between us.
I didn't rush anything. I wanted to feel out the composition of the scene first.
I let my cock drop flat against his ass.
It didn't slide inside or anything. It just rested there, like the heaviest piece of hung horse meat I bet he had ever imagined in his life. But now it was literally on him, lol. And I kept imagining it fitting somehow perfectly in the narrow, pale channel of his crack.
I had known I had been hung for years. In short, I had an absolute weapon of a dick. And now it was completely awake. Already slimy with a clear jock drip. God I needed to nut.
The pressure was intense.
I started moving my waist in slow, tiny circles, rubbing the length of my shaft directly over the soft flesh of his boyish cheeks.
The long, heavy veins along my underside caught against the seam of his butt with every single slide, dragging back and forth until the skin was glistening with my precum. I was so proud to be marking my canvas.
Toby didn't say a word. He was in awe, I think.
He just buried his face into the corner where the walls met. I listened for his breath. He sounded fine.
I could see his response against the sheets.
His own hard schlong was crushed flat beneath his stomach, bricked up completely on pure biological reflex and leaking its own shameless puddle onto the comforter. I wonder how long he's dreamed of something like this. My dick is like a bi-curious detector.
Looking down at the back of his neck, his skin seemed a little flushed red. He was moist, if not too sweaty. A tiny part of me felt bad to just introduce him to the big time like this. But he was game, after all.
Toby was my roommate. He was my boy. He complained but the truth is ever since I picked him as my roommate he was so overjoyed he would do whatever the hell I asked, ultimately. He sweated me. It had been obvious for a while. Now I was turning him into an easy, brainless cumdump target just because my balls had been running locked & loaded for four days straight and he needed spending money.
But fuck it. It was his time.
The way we hovered around each other in the small kitchen, the underlying heat had been there for months. You just know when a guy wants to secretly/not secretly worship your balls, you know?
It only took a WhatsApp message from some horny fagdad in Miami to rip the armor off the charade.
"Gavin," he managed, his voice sounding thin, and like a total bitch in heat, if I'm being completely honest.
"Don't move too much," I whispered, kinda leaning over to rub his shoulder a little.
I gave myself one heavy, downward stroke, gathering a massive drop of my own wet drip on the tip and started smearing it all over his exposed cheeks like I was painting him with my babies already.
Then I lowered my hips just enough to let the broad head of my dick smear right over the opening of his insanely cute pink pussy hole.
God his hole felt warm too.
It sat on his tight ring of skin for a fraction of a second before running down into the cleft, turning his puckering boyhole rim into a frictionless, slippery target.
I dropped my hands back to his waist, my fingers locking onto his hip bones like fuck-handles.
"You should back up," I commanded. "You seem crowded."
Toby didn't argue. He couldn't. He had literally nowhere to go now but back.
And that meant impaling himself on my hung horse cock. Oops.
Pinned by the walls, his body had already accepted the unsaid inevitability of the situation. The two hundred and fifty dollar roommate deal wasn't even up for discussion anymore.
He shifted his knees backward an inch. And then another. Timidly. But I knew what he wanted his first taste of.
The movement forced his raw, pulsing rim straight against the wet head of my cock.
Fuuuuck. I was so ready.
I leaned my weight forward and just shoved in.
The first few inches made my knees go weak because I was conquering new territory. And I could feel my shit grow inside him. My cockhead flared up. The thick, thick head of my dick broke through with enough push. Nothing better than stretching the spongy rim to its absolute maximum breaking point.
All it usually requires? A single, committed push.
And I gave it to him.
Toby let out a raw grunt towards the wall, his fingers twisting into the comforter as his country-boy nervous system took the shock of it all in.
I held myself perfectly still right there. Just three inches deep.
The oiled lining of his hole was gripping my shaft like a tight, hot glove.
I couldn't believe it. I was about to unload. Very, very soon.
A slick wet squelch echoed gently every time he tried to breathe, rocking onto it more.
"Just take it, man," I said as my hands tightened. I started at my knuckles really gripping onto him. "That means all the way, Tobe."
I didn't wait for him to take all the initiative. I started, instead, to drive my hips forward with everything I had. The rest of the length slid home with a good hearty thrust. My specialty. Suddenly I was filling a full slot inside a warm cavity. And then I kept going and going until my heavy balls smashed flat against his taint.
The raw, tight plop of his hole engulfed my dick.
Wow, I mean, I'dd just taken his cherry.
Toby’s head curled to the wall. He turned his head a little, like a bruised creature or something. I could see his eyes clenched. But his little college boy mouth puckered open. He was adapting to the volume like a pro. I was proud.
His hole locked onto the base of my shaft. I was all in. I felt a little panicky too for some reason. But I tried to stay cool. It was go time.
I wanted to start steering his waist.
"Breathe, bro," I muttered, my voice thick with all the lust in my balls. "It's in. Time to ride it."
I pulled back slow.
I slid out until just the wet head remained past his rim, dragging his internal heat out into the cool air of the room, before slamming my waist forward again.
The impact made the bed frame creak violently against the floorboards.
All these fleshy sounds. The slapping squelch.
Then the buildup stopped. I started to work up a rhythm, not quite a full pounding, mind you, because I have a soul.
But soon the movements started to get blurry.
And my hands kept clawing into the mattress with every deep stroke. I was like christening a new bottom into the world for life.
I kept going slowly in and out then thrusting for emphasis when I plunged back in.
It felt like a live wire had been hooked directly to his pelvis, sending hot, electric shocks straight up his spine until his moans became a continuous broken soundtrack punched out by every exhale.
He was way past pretending. We both were.
His hips started driving backwards with each new thrust. And I kept encouraging him like a good bitch. The desperate force between us I think really surprised both of us. I had to admire his hard glutes. Soon they were slamming against my thighs. His let's-save-face dignity? Yeah, that was gone.
"That's it, you fucking slut," I panted, my bare chest finally dropping down, sticking to his back as my pace climbed even higher. I knew he had been wanting this for a long, long time. I needed to make him feel it.
The entire university campus had narrowed down to the wet, loud gape of his hole swallowing my meat over and over. I was in fuckboy heaven.
Soon I could feel his inside muscles starting to contract around my shaft in those tight, desperate little flitters, gathering fluid and pressure all at once.
He was shaking, truly trembling against the wall from the overload. So many new sensations tonight. Well, for both of us, to be fair.
"Gavin," he choked out, his forehead grinding into the drywall. "I'm gonna—"
"Yeah," I roared, my grip on his hips tightening until it felt like I was going to snap the bone. "I know. Clamp down. You stupid little slut."
I delivered three more brutal, deep thrusts, burying myself to the absolute hilt on the final pass, my knuckles grinding right into the reddening skin of his cheeks.
He started jerking his dick and cumming pretty instantly. I felt like such a guy to have this kind of power over a newbie.
This, of course, sent his hole went into a wild, rhythmic spasm. His vice-grip milked me off instantly. I couldn't hold back.
I went so rigid.
I came all the way deep into his virgin boy guts.
Totally flooded him. God in those pent-up pulses. My jock nut was inside him now.
We stayed like that for a long time.
Just waiting for a signal.
Then we relaxed and collapsed a little.
My weight stayed flat on him, my chest rising and falling against his shoulder blades, our heartbeats thudding together against the bed and walls. Then I rolled off him.
The three grand from some strange dude didn't mean shit now.
I think I'd just wrecked my roomie for good.
But he was born for it.
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