The bass from the speakers thumped through the crowded living room of Jake's house, where our high school crew had gathered for what was supposed to be a low-key reunion party. Beers flowed freely, shots lined up on the kitchen counter, and laughter mixed with old stories from our senior year. I, Connor, stood in the corner nursing a drink, my blondish-brown hair slightly tousled from the humid night air. At 1.80 meters, I wasn't the tallest guy there, but I kept in shape with occasional gym sessions—enough to give my butt a nice shaped curve that my boyfriend, Jack, loved grabbing. Speaking of Jack, he'd bailed early tonight, citing a headache, and was already crashed out in our apartment bed by the time the party hit its peak.
Damian, my best friend from high school, was the life of the party as always. Taller than me by a good few inches, he towered over everyone with his broad, hairy frame. His beard and mustache framed a rugged face, and even in the dim light, you could see the thick hair peeking from his unbuttoned shirt collar. He was straight as an arrow—or at least that's what he claimed—with a deep-seated homophobia that came out in crude jokes whenever the topic skirted too close to anything queer. But damn, I'd crushed on him hard since sophomore year, those stolen glances in the locker room fueling fantasies I buried deep because of our bromance. Tonight, he was hammered, slurring stories and slamming back whiskey like it was water.
As the night wound down around 2 AM, people started peeling off—hugs, promises to text, the usual. Damian, though, could barely stand. His massive body swayed, eyes glassy, and when he tried to grab his keys, he nearly face-planted into the coffee table. 'Dude, you're not driving,' I said, slinging his arm over my shoulder. He mumbled something incoherent, his breath hot and boozy against my neck. No way was I letting my best friend risk it. 'Come crash at my place. Jack is out cold anyway.' He nodded sluggishly, leaning his weight on me as we stumbled to my car.
The drive back to our apartment was quiet, save for Damian's occasional snores. My heart raced a bit—alone with him like this, the old crush bubbling up uninvited. I glanced at his profile, the way his beard scratched against his collar, imagining what lay under those clothes. But no, I had Jack. This was just helping a friend.
Getting him up the stairs was a workout; Damian's solid, hairy bulk made every step a grind. I fumbled with the keys, easing the door open quietly. The living room was dark, Jack's soft snores drifting from our bedroom. Good—he wouldn't wake. I guided Damian to the guest room, a small space with a queen bed and not much else. He collapsed onto the mattress face-first, groaning. 'Gonna... crash here,' he slurred, already half-gone.
I stood there, catching my breath, watching his chest rise and fall. He looked wrecked—shirt untucked, jeans rumpled. 'You need to get comfy, man,' I muttered, more to myself. Starting with his shoes, I tugged off his sneakers, revealing big, socked feet that carried the faint tang of sweat from dancing all night. Next, his shirt: I unbuttoned it slowly, peeling it away to expose his hairy chest, thick curls matting across his pecs and trailing down to his navel. God, he was a bear of a man, all that fur glistening faintly under the bedside lamp.
Jeans next. I unbuckled his belt, the clink loud in the quiet room, and eased them down his thick thighs. His boxer briefs strained against a visible bulge, the fabric tented by what had to be his semi-hard cock. But it was the overflow that hit me—the extreme bush of dark, wiry hair spilling out from the waistband, untamed and wild. My pulse quickened. I'd always wondered, peeked in the showers back in high school, but never this close. Damian shifted slightly, mumbling in his sleep, and the motion made his bulge twitch.
I should stop. Jack was down the hall. But the temptation clawed at me. Just a peek. My hands trembled as I hooked my fingers into the waistband of his boxers and tugged them down, inch by inch. His huge cock flopped out, thick and veiny even soft, nestled in that massive, extremely hairy bush that covered his groin like a forest. His balls hung low and heavy, big as plums, shrouded in more fur. The room filled instantly with his scent—a pungent mix of cum, piss, and sweat, musky and overpowering, like he'd been edging for hours or hadn't washed after a long day. My own cock hardened in my pants, normal-sized but throbbing against the zipper. Fuck, he was massive, easily twice my girth, veins pulsing faintly.
Hesitation gripped me, but the crush won. I leaned in, heart pounding with excitement and fear, and wrapped my lips around the head of his cock. It tasted salty, bitter from the remnants of piss and dried cum, but I sucked gently, tongue swirling over the slit. Damian's dick responded despite his drunken stupor, swelling in my mouth, growing harder, thicker, the veins bulging as it reached full mast—nine inches at least, a monster. I bobbed deeper, gagging slightly on the girth, inhaling that intoxicating stench that made my head spin.
Emboldened, I pulled off and lifted his heavy balls, burying my nose in the hairy sack. I licked them, sucking one into my mouth, the sweat and musk coating my tongue. Then, gently, I rolled him onto his stomach— he was out cold, pliable—and spread his cheeks. His ass was big and hairy, cheeks covered in a thick pelt that led to a furry crack. I dove in, rimming his hole with my tongue, lapping at the sweaty ring, sniffing the earthy tang mixed with his overall scent. My cock leaked pre-cum into my underwear as I worshipped him, hands kneading his firm globes.
I couldn't stop now. Flipping him back, I stripped off my own clothes, my normal cock bobbing free, ass clenching in anticipation. Straddling his hips, I positioned his massive shaft at my hole—no lube, just spit from my rimming—and sank down. Pain exploded as the thick head breached me, stretching my tight ring mercilessly. I clamped a hand over my mouth to stifle the cry, tears pricking my eyes. It hurt like hell, but the fullness, the betrayal of riding my straight best friend while my boyfriend slept nearby, made it intoxicating. I started jumping, up and down on his veiny length, his bush scratching my ass with each bounce. The bed creaked softly, his cock pistoning deep, hitting spots that made my vision blur.
Leaning forward for more, I buried my face in his hairy armpit, the dense fur damp with sweat. I sniffed deeply, licking the salty hairs, the smell even stronger there—pure man, unwashed and raw. That's when Damian stirred. His eyes fluttered open, bleary at first, then widening in shock as he registered me impaled on his dick, my tongue in his pit.
He grabbed my hair roughly, shoving my face harder into his sweaty armpit, smothering me in the coarse hairs. 'What the fuck?' he growled, voice thick with booze and rage. Realization hit him like a truck—his straight ass waking to his best friend betraying him, cheating on his boyfriend with this. Internalized homophobia flared, turning shock to fury. 'You want me to fuck you, you homo? You let your high school best friend fuck you while you have a boyfriend, you faggot?'
Before I could pull off or explain, he bucked up hard, his huge cock slamming deeper into my ass. His hands wrapped around my throat, choking me as he flipped us, pinning me beneath his hairy bulk. He pounded mercilessly, hips snapping fast and brutal, each thrust a punishment. His veiny shaft ravaged my hole, balls slapping against me with wet smacks. I gasped for air, but pleasure mixed with the pain—my cock leaked steadily, pre-cum pooling on my stomach from the rough dominance, the betrayal fueling my twisted excitement.
Damian didn't let up, fucking me like I was his enemy, grunting with every vicious drive. Sweat poured off him, dripping onto my chest, his beard scratching my neck as he leaned in to spit, 'Fucking traitor. Betraying your bro like this.' After what felt like an eternity of raw, animalistic pounding—my ass burning, stretched to its limit—he yanked out suddenly, shoving me off him. 'Stick your head out of the bed, bitch.' Trembling, I obeyed, dangling my head over the edge, mouth open in submission.
He stood, towering over me, and rammed his cock down my throat like it was a pussy. No mercy, no warm-up—just brutal face-fucking, his hairy bush grinding against my nose, the smell of cum and piss overwhelming as he skull-fucked me. Gags wracked my body, saliva drooling down my chin, but he held my head firm, thrusting deep until I choked, tears streaming. This wasn't pleasure for me; it was revenge, Damian raping my mouth to assert dominance, his big balls swinging to smack my forehead.
Finally, he pulled out, strings of spit connecting us. 'Sit on the bed,' he barked. I scrambled up, ass throbbing, and he sat in front of me, feet planted wide. 'Suck my feet, faggot.' His big, sweaty feet—socks off now—were calloused and musky, toes flexing. I leaned down, taking his big toe into my mouth, sucking hard, tongue laving the salty skin. As I did, he lifted his other foot and shoved it between my cheeks, toes probing my abused hole. Without warning, he foot-fucked me, pushing his heel in deep, twisting roughly while I bobbed on the toes in my mouth. The stretch was insane, pain shooting through me, but I sucked obediently, tasting the night's grime.
Damian laughed darkly, grinding his foot deeper. 'Look at you, worshipping like the slut you are.' He withdrew, then maneuvered us into a 69, his massive body engulfing me. 'Suck and sniff my cock and sweaty balls,' he ordered, lowering his dripping shaft onto my face. I inhaled the pungent mix, tongue lapping at his veiny length, sucking the head clean of pre-cum before burying my nose in his hairy balls, licking the wrinkled skin. Meanwhile, his hand balled into a fist, slick with spit, and he rammed it into my ass—fist-fucking me without mercy, knuckles stretching me wide.
The intensity broke me. Pleasure-pain overwhelmed, and I lost control, piss spraying from my cock in hot spurts onto the sheets, soaking us both. Damian laughed louder, a cruel bark. 'Pissing yourself like a bitch? Take it harder!' He twisted his fist deeper, punching in and out, while I deep-throated his cock, gagging on the girth.
The 69 ended with him pulling away. 'Bend over,' he snarled. I did, ass up, and he shoved my face into the pillow, muffling my moans. His foot came down on the side of my head, stepping on my face, grinding my cheek into the mattress as he mounted me from behind. His huge cock speared back into my hole, fucking with renewed fury—fast, deep, relentless. The bed shook, his hairy body slapping against mine, sweat flying. He choked me again with one hand, the other smacking my shaped butt hard, leaving red welts.
With a guttural roar, Damian came, flooding my ass with thick ropes of cum, hot and copious, his big balls contracting against me. He kept thrusting through it, milking every drop, then yanked out, smacking my ass one last time—hard enough to sting. Cum leaked from my gaping hole as he stood, cock still semi-hard and glistening.
'Clean this bed and go to your cute boyfriend's bed now,' he sneered, voice laced with disgust and finality. 'I'm done with you, faggot. I'll sleep on the couch, and we won't talk about this.' He grabbed his jeans but didn't bother dressing fully, his huge, hairy cock swinging free as he stormed out to the living room, door slamming behind him.
I lay there, body wrecked, ass pulsing with his load, the room reeking of sex and piss. Betrayal hung heavy— to Jack, to our friendship—but the dark thrill lingered. Wiping tears and sweat, I stripped the sheets, heart still racing from the roughest night of my life.
