Penetrating Flesh

All of my stories take place in a parallel world, very similar to our own, where STI’s do not exist, so my stories are filled with practices that are highly unsafe in this world. I’m not going to say don’t try this at home, but take care of yourself.

All of my characters are of legal age, and you should be, too—do not read my stories if you are under the legal age in your country/area. Any resemblance to real persons, locations, or events is entirely coincidental.

This story is brought to you by my wonderful Patrons. I love you guys!

And now, our feature presentation…

I hadn’t made it far from the frat house when I knew that my itch was going to come back before I could make it to the dorm.  I could feel it building up again, even as I could feel the cum leaking from my ass.  That, at least, felt good; felt soothing; felt right.

Since I wasn’t going to make it back to the dorm, I decided to swing by Ink and Steel again.  I knew Doma had helped me out just that morning, but maybe he’d do it again.  I tried to ignore the jeers and taunts I got from guys who noticed my cum stained clothes.  I tried, but I couldn’t help but feel my cock getting a little harder each time until I was, once again, obscenely hard in my cum covered pants.

I reached out and pulled on the door to Ink and Steel, and it caught.  I jerked again, and again, and then shook the door rapidly.  They were closed!  I was too late!  I rushed out of the alley and headed for my dorm as fast as I could.  The itch was making it hard to concentrate, and all the guys I saw along the way weren’t helping.  

I rushed into my room and locked the door behind me.  When I turned around, Chester wasn’t there.  I was disappointed up until the point when I looked in the mirror and saw myself.  My eyes went wide, my dick throbbed, and I could still feel cum leaking from my ass.  I looked like a faggot that had just been gangbanged.

I had just been gangbanged, I thought.  And I liked it.  It had been hot, it had been sexy.  It wasn’t gay, though, because it hadn’t been about feeling good.  It had been about taking care of my new itch.  Feeling good was just a bonus, like getting all my frat brothers to help me out.

I took a deep breath and calmed down, my anxiety soothed by cold, hard logic.  I started to peel away my clothes, remembering some of the comments the guys had made throughout the party, as each one helped me with my itch.  Sure, they had been calling me bitch, and faggot, but that was okay, because it had made me feel horny when they did, and that made it easier for them to help my itch, if I was horny for it.  Like I was now.

I really wished Chester was there, I thought as I, finally naked, started to gently stroke my cock, reveling once again in the increased sensitivity of my pierced cock.  My daydreaming came to a halt as I saw myself in the mirror again.  I looked unseemly.  I had to take a shower before Chester got back.  I picked up my towel and wrapped it around my waist, just like I had when…  I suddenly remembered all the guys who had seen me last time I went to the showers, and how they had followed me in.  I moaned, and groped myself through my towel. 

They might be there again.

The thought excited me, and it terrified me.  I knew I had to shower, and I knew that those guys might be willing to help me with the itch… I remembered them saying pussy, and jizzed into my towel, a visible stain spreading over the obvious outline of my erection, and dripping down my leg.  I took a step forward, without intending to, and then another, and another, and I was in the hallway.  I turned, and walked toward the showers.  The hall was empty.  I kept my eyes glued to the open door to the bathroom, a delicious anxiousness buzzing through me as I waited for them to appear again.

I made it to the shower without running into anyone.  I started to close the outer curtain, my fingers lightly gripping the cloth, but… I didn’t need to close it.  I didn’t want to close it.  I pulled off my towel and hung it on a hook.  I stood there for a moment.  Naked, exposed, anticipating.  But nobody else came in.  I sighed and turned on the water, ready, at last, to wash myself clean.  The thought was somewhat disappointing, and I realized that it was a bit comforting, having all that cum all over me.  

It made me feel sexy, manly, like one of the guys.

I stepped under the spray, leaving the shower curtain open, too.  It felt so naughty, washing the cum from my body with the curtains open, exposed to anyone who came into the bathroom.  I stayed hard while I showered, and gave special care to washing around the piercing.  I was careful not to touch my tattoo as I washed around my ass, though the feeling of the water and suds brushing over it made the itch so much worse.  Finally clean, I climbed out and dried off, still exposed, hoping, taking my time, waiting, yearning…  I don’t know how long I stood there, dry, just holding my towel, my cock hard, waiting for someone to see.

And then it happened.  A guy--one of those guys?--walked into view and stopped, staring at me.  I froze, still other than my throbbing erection.  He looked at me for a minute, and then sneered, reaching down to pull off his towel.

“I just came fucking my bitch, but you can suck it clean before I take a shower, faggot.”  His cock was big, but not hard.  It glistened, and I noticed a little cum on the tip.  I dropped to my knees and crawled over to him, as he laughed.  I his cock into my mouth and began to swirl my tongue over the surface.  The musky smell of his sweaty crotch as I swallowed his only partially swollen cock was driving me out of my mind.  I moaned, and sucked, and savored the taste and smell of him.  

A hand grabbed my hair and pulled me back, tossing me backward onto my ass.  I looked up at him, his dick dripping with my saliva.  I was so horny, and so confused, and about to ask him to help me with my itch when…

“Maybe next time, faggot.  Now, get out of here,” he commanded.  I quickly wrapped my towel around my waist and obeyed.  Feeling defeated, and hornier than ever, I walked back to my room.  Chester still wasn’t there!  I moaned, dropping my towel unceremoniously to the side, and crawled onto my bed.  I rolled over onto my back, and started to tease my cock.  My dream about Chester popped back into my head, and I looked over at his hamper, at the visibly cum stained underwear still hanging there.  I got up and snatched them, wrapping them around my face as I laid back down so that the cum stains were held over my nose and mouth.  I breathed deep moaning, and started to jerk my leaking cock.  I took my time.  I didn’t want to cum without Chester here.  I remembered all the times he’d walked in on me, right as came…  Or… No, come to think of it, I came all those times because he walked in.  Yeah, it’s hot when he does that!

Moaning.

Huffing.

Licking.

Panting.

Jerking.

All the while, waiting.  Waiting for Chester.  Waiting for my roommate, and praying that he was going to fuck me when he got back.  To help the itch, of course, not because he was so hot.  And not because his dick was so… Wait…  That had been a dream, so I didn’t really know if his dick was that big, that perfect.

But if it was…

I lost myself, bringing myself to the brink over and over again, never letting myself have that one extra pump, squeeze, or tap that would send my cum flooding out to soak over my body once again.

“Looks like you’re all done,” I heard Chester say.  I looked over to see him pushing the door shut behind himself.  My eyes went briefly to his grinning face before dropping to settle on his crotch.  I just kept stroking myself, slowly, the itch so intense I couldn’t think, as I stared at my roommate’s crotch and huffed at a cum stain on his underwear.  

He took a step forward, simultaneously reaching down and starting to peel his shirt off over his head.  He tossed it at the very hamper I had stolen his underwear from.  He kept walking forward, unbuttoning his jeans and kicking off his shoes.  I moaned desperately and watched.  He was so close, and then he stopped, grasping his open jeans and underwear by both sides of his waist, and pushing them down, bending along with them to brace himself as he stepped free.  When he came up, I briefly noticed a wadded ball of dark material in his hand, but quickly lost focus on that as his cock came into view.

It was just like his cock had been in my dream.  Fuck, it was beautiful.  He reached down and pulled his underwear off my face.  He looked down at me, still smirking, and then pressed the cloth in his fist right over my mouth and nose.

“Here, try a freshly used pair,” he said with contempt and amusement.  I moaned and breathed deep, my head spinning as the musk of the sweaty underwear filled my lungs.  He laughed, and then tossed the underwear to the side.  “So, what have you been up to all day?” He asked, his tone fake friendly.

I rolled my head from side to side, trying to come back to my senses.  It was hard, with his smell still on my face, and his cock throbbing in my vision.

“I… I, uh, got a tattoo this morning.  And then there was a… a party at the frat house.  And then I came home and took a shower,” I answered lamely, still teasing my cock right in front of him.

“A shower?  What did you do at the party to get so dirty?” He asked reasonably.

“I… I don’t know how to… to explain it.  It’s the tattoo, it itches, but I can’t touch it, so they helped me.”  I wanted to say it, to ask him to scratch my itch, too, but it was just too humiliating, too gay.

“Oh, they helped you?  Why don’t you show me this tattoo of yours while you tell me how they helped, and how you got dirty.”  I groaned in shame and started to lift my legs into the air, reaching down to either side so I could spread my cheeks and show the tattoo to Chester.

“They, unh, scratched it with their cocks, but it made them cum, so it got all over me, and I’m not gay, but scratching the itch feels good, so I came on me, too.”  The itch was out of control, and getting stronger by the second.

“Wow.  That’s some tattoo.  And there’s cum leaking from your ass.  Looks like you got a lot in there.”

“Ohhh, yeah, and they put horse cum in there too… Just to help with the itch.  It’s medicinal.”

“Horse cum in your ass?  That’s not medicinal, that’s nasty, faggot.”  I knew I should object to being called a faggot by my roommate, but he was climbing up onto my bed and moving between my spread legs. He didn’t say anything else, he just moved into position and shoved his cock into me.  He held it there and shifted forward, forcing my legs wider.  He planted his arms on either side of me, bracing himself and staring domineeringly down into my eyes.  He started to rock his hips back and forth.  I reached down and squeezed my cock as he started fucking me.  He was still staring into my eyes, overwhelming me.  I wanted to pull my eyes away, but I couldn’t.  I just panted and stared up meekly as he fucked me. I remembered Riley’s instructions, so I nervously blurted them out.

“Riley said I should bring you by the frat house tomorrow.  He says they need another pledge,” I babbled, trailing off into a series of moans as he started fucking me even harder, grinning.

“Oh, yeah.  I expected that to happen,” he said breathlessly, fucking my eyes into the back of my head.  “We’ll talk about that tomorrow.”  He leaned in and kissed me.  I had never been kissed like that before, by anyone.  I moaned, my eyes sliding closed, my body writhing, and came as I submitted to my roommate.  The fuck was scratching the itch, but that didn’t matter.  He was fucking me so good.  He was right, they all were:

I’m a faggot.