It was a Friday night in late September, the air still thick with Texas coast humidity that clung to my skin as I sat at the kitchen island, nursing a lukewarm soda. The remnants of my sister's party surrounded me, red plastic cups half-filled with flat beer, sticky countertops, and the lingering scent of cheap perfume mixed with something vaguely like regret. The digital clock on the microwave read 12:17 AM, and I was playing supervisor to Alexa's chaos, a role I'd reluctantly accepted when our parents left for their weekend in Louisiana.
"Almost everyone's gone," I mumbled to myself, watching the last couple stumble toward the door, their laughter echoing down the hallway as they disappeared into the night. I should have been out too, partying, drinking, maybe even hooking up like any normal eighteen-year-old would on a Friday night, burying my dick deep in some cute guy’s ass. Instead, I was stuck here, the designated responsible one.
Alexa appeared from the living room, her blonde hair slightly disheveled, makeup smudged around her eyes. "Hey, Harker! I'm heading to Jenna's for the night. Don't wait up," she said, grabbing her purse from the counter.
"So I'm cleaning this mess alone?" I gestured around the kitchen.
"You're the responsible one, remember?" she winked, already typing on her phone. "Oh, I told Dylan he could crash here if he needed to. He drank a lot."
I froze. "Dylan? Dylan Hutchins? Here in the house?"
"He's too drunk to drive home," she said dismissively. "He's harmless. I saw him go into the study."
Before I could protest, her Uber pulled up outside, its headlights sweeping across the living room. "Love you!" she called over her shoulder as the door clicked shut behind her.
I stood there for a moment, the silence of the house suddenly feeling heavy. Finally alone. Or so I thought.
As I began collecting cups and tossing them into a trash bag, I noticed through the kitchen window that there was still a car in our driveway, a black SUV that definitely didn't belong to us. Dylan's, I assumed. Someone will get it tomorrow.
After clearing the worst of the mess, I decided the rest could wait until morning. I headed upstairs, my footsteps creaking on the wooden steps. The hallway was dark except for a sliver of moonlight through the window at the end. As I approached my bedroom door, I noticed it was slightly ajar.
Wait, I definitely closed that.
I pushed it open cautiously, my heart suddenly pounding. The room appeared empty, my posters of bands I'd outgrown years ago still hanging on the walls, my laptop closed on my desk, everything seemingly in place. I quickly checked my valuables, money in the drawer, computer on the desk, TV on the wall. All accounted for.
I exhaled, relieved, but then heard it, the faint sound of running water from my adjoining bathroom. I heard the rattling of the doorknob, and a slit of light spilled into the room.
"Hello?" I called out, my voice tight with a mix of fear and annoyance.
"What?" a voice replied. Deep, familiar; I knew it was Dylan’s.
The water shut off abruptly. The bathroom door opened more fully, and Dylan Hutchins emerged, wiping his face with a towel. He filled my doorway, and then some. At six-foot-four and probably 220 pounds of pure muscle, Dylan was the tight end who made our football team formidable. His black hair was cut short, military-style, and his brown eyes had a lazy, confident look that somehow managed to be both intimidating and attractive. He was, by all accounts, the physical embodiment of douchebag, but also someone I'd secretly lusted after since freshman year.
"Sorry, Hark, it's me," he said, his face glistening with water droplets; his speech slightly slurred.
I stared, speechless for a moment. "Dylan? What are you doing in my bedroom?"
"Your sister's party," he said with a shrug, leaning against my doorframe in a way that made his biceps strain against his tight t-shirt. "Got too drunk to drive. Alexa said I could crash here in your room."
Classic Alexa, giving away my space without asking. She didn’t tell me that she had OK’d his use of my bedroom.
"Well, are you still too drunk to drive?" I asked, my tone sharper than intended.
"Dude, chill out," he said, that trademark smirk playing on his lips. "I'm not gonna do anything. Just wanna sleep." I did notice that he wasn’t slurring his words as much as he had been.
"Sorry... it's been a long night," I said, finally relaxing enough to exhale properly.
"I get that," he said, running a hand through his short hair. "I'm physically pissed off. Was supposed to hook up with Sarah tonight, but right when we were about to, she bailed."
I nodded, not knowing what to say. Sarah Jenkins? The cheerleader? Of course.
"You probably don't want to hear about the pussies I was trying to destroy, though," he added with an awkward laugh. “Not to be cruel, but I haven’t heard anyone talk about the girls spreading wide for you. Maybe I should give you some pointers.”
My eyes drifted down for a second to his orange athletic shorts with the school's football logo, which hugged his muscular thighs and hinted at what I could only assume was an impressive package. I quickly looked away.
"Eh... it's more interesting than my night," I said. "Babysitting a bunch of girls to make sure they don’t tear up the house or have an orgy or something. It's boring as hell."
"Why didn't you just leave then?" he asked, genuinely curious.
"Would have, but my parents only gave approval for the party if I stayed to make sure nothing grew legs and walked away." I said with a laugh. "My dad is sure that they replaced some of his expensive scotch with cheap vodka."
"Haha, I feel that," Dylan said, pushing off from the doorframe and spinning slowly around my room. I took the opportunity to admire his ass, full, muscular, perfectly shaped, and definitely squeezable.
"Nice room, man," he commented. "It's clean. Mine's just sports posters, laundry, and condom wrappers. It’s not easy to remember to toss the package when your package wants to do some diving."
"Oh," I responded. I'd never really talked to Dylan before, despite being in the same grade for years. I was surprised by how openly sexual he was.
"Yeah, fortunately my parents don't go in there," he continued. "I mostly hang out in the living room. Only go up there to sleep or to sink my dick into something..." He trailed off, then added with a grin, "You know how it is, gotta empty those ball sacs."
I laughed, feeling myself getting hard. I quickly yawned, hoping to cover my reaction.
"Hey, I'm really tired," I said. "Do you mind if we hit the sack?" I asked, already regretting the invitation.
"Yeah, it's fine, man," said Dylan, his smirk widening. "Just watch your ass. I haven't gotten pussy today and my dick might start searching for the closest hole," he said, laughing. I tried to laugh too, but it was uncomfortable. I felt my ass pucker tighten.
"I'm gonna get changed," I said, turning and walking to my dresser. I quickly stripped down to my underwear, choosing some over-sized boxers. My dick had finally softened again. When I turned around, Dylan was already in my bed. He was shirtless now, and his muscles seem to be even bigger; his abs were the proverbial washboard, arms that looked like they could crush anyone. My hardon started to return.
"Nice underwear," Dylan said, his eyes fixed on my crotch as I approached the bed.
"Thanks, I just wear them for sleeping," I said, climbing under the covers. The sheets felt cool against my skin.
"I'm wearing my party pants!" he announced, flipping back the covers to reveal his underwear, Star Wars boxer briefs. "You know, the ones you put on when you know someone's gonna open their legs for you, and you know they’re gonna know what the force feels like. Or so I thought; today was a bust." He gestured to his crotch. "Look."
I looked. And stared. His package was enormous, thick and ridiculously long, barely contained by the fabric. His dick rested on top of what I could only assume were equally impressive balls.
"Whoa," I said, my voice barely above a whisper.
"Yeah, I know right? Stylish," he said, smirking.
"No not that! Your cock! It's huge!" I almost yelled.
"Oh yeah! It's pretty fat," he said proudly, grabbing his bulge. "This here is over seven inches of prime Dylan snake, a delicacy to all who let it slither between their legs," he looked up at me, smirking.
"It looks bigger than seven. You sure it's not bigger?" I asked. It was an honest question, it looked even bigger than he was claiming.
"It's almost seven now. But it’s not more than seven. Seven’s enough, anyway. I'm hard because I didn't get off, and all this sex talk makes me really horny," he said, still smirking. "If I don't bust a nut soon, I'm gonna explode."
How was this happening? How was I having this conversation with Dylan Hutchins? The football star? The guy I'd jerked off thinking about more times than I could count?
"If I was home, right about now, I would be slipping my thick man meat into this fake vagina I got on eBay," he said, grunting and adjusting himself. "It's amazing! Fuck. I gotta take these underpants off, they're hurting my balls. Do you mind? You even interested to see what a cock this big looks like?" he said. He didn't even wait for my response before lifting himself up slightly and sliding the boxer briefs down his muscular legs. His cock sprang free, smacking against his stomach with an audible thud. It stood straight up, perfectly rigid, with a slight upward curve. His balls were completely shaved, and his ball sack seemed quite massive.
"Oh! That's better!" he said, wrapping his hand around his thick shaft and giving it a slow, deliberate stroke. The head, a deep mushroom shape, was already glistening with precum. He noticed me staring, my mouth slightly agape.
"Go ahead," he said, reaching out and grabbing my hand. "Touch it! I don't care! So many people want to touch it, I'm used to it." I didn't resist. He guided my hand to the base of his shaft, and I wrapped my fingers around it. They barely met. He moved my hand up slowly, and it felt like a journey of a thousand miles to reach his giant head. But just as my fingers brushed against the sensitive tip, he pulled my hand back down to his crotch. He let go, and I continued the motion on my own, sliding up and down the length of his shaft slowly.
"Oh shit, that feels great," he moaned, his eyes closing as he leaned back against the pillows. "It feels better than a dainty girl hand. It's rougher, and feels amazing!" He closed his eyes and leaned his head back. I took my other hand and started playing with his balls, which felt ridiculously heavy in my palm. He quietly moaned and groaned as I jerked him, his breathing becoming more ragged. “Too bad you don’t have a pussy.”
I thought about my bussy. Should I explain that to him? Suddenly, I knew what I wanted to do. I had a feeling he wouldn't mind. I hoped he wouldn’t. I slowly lowered my head toward his dick, and he opened his eyes just as I was about to take him into my mouth.
"Shit!" he said. I immediately froze; was a handjob OK but a blowjob wasn’t? “Are you, um, you know?” he asked.
“Close your eyes and decide,” I said, suddenly feeling that he started it and I was just going with it. I shoved his dick into my mouth as far as it would go. He was certainly larger than Tommy Fulton, whose dick was the largest one I’d ever sucked.
“Fuck, man, that’s good. Oh shit yeah that’s good. You’re a pro, Harker.” He grabbed me and pulled me to him. Our noses were almost touching. “Let me fuck you, man.
"I want to let you, but dude, you will need to be slow. That monster dick of yours will rip me open.”
With that, he reached over and grabbed my hard cock by slipping his hand through the leg hole. I moaned as he gripped me and flipped me onto my stomach and pulled down the back of my trunks, exposing my ass.
"Where’s your lube?" he asked, his voice suddenly deeper, more commanding. "You gay guys always have lube, and you’re going to need it. I'm gonna fuck you silly."
"Um... yes! Yes!" I said, practically clawing at the bed sheets to get to the bottle I hid inside my pillow case. He jumped up and retrieved a condom from his pants. “Gay guys also keep a condom handy, just in case,” I said.
“Shut the fuck up,” he grunted as he sheathed his throbbing cock. I suddenly felt a meaty, lubed-up finger press against my asshole. I moaned as it entered me, it felt like a dick, not a finger. I was glad I snuck a quick play with my dildo before the girls started to arrive; otherwise, I don't think I could have taken the second or third finger he slipped inside me after that one. He moved them in and out slowly, and I moaned loudly every time he pulled them out, my body arching with pleasure. This wasn’t his first rodeo. I could tell.
I then heard the mattress shift as he got into position. He squirted more lube. He applied some more to my hole, and I felt him reposition himself behind me. His giant mushroom head pressed against my readied asshole.
"Ready for my fat cock?" he asked. Without waiting for a response, he pushed the head into my hole, and I groaned in pain. It was huge. He slowly moved, inch by agonizing inch, deeper inside me. I reached behind me for leverage, grabbing his big ass, which was soft yet firm and felt incredible. He continued pushing himself inside, and I was groaning, it felt awful, but also amazing at the same time. My trunks were still tangled around my thighs, and I couldn't get access to my dick. I didn't want to anyway; I knew I'd cum if I touched it.
"Holy shit, your asshole feels amazing!" he grunted as he pushed more of himself inside me. Finally, after what felt like an eternity, I felt his thighs connect with my ass. As I was adjusting to the feeling of being so completely full, he suddenly grabbed my chest and rolled me over so that I was on top of him, facing the ceiling. He started thrusting in and out of me, and I moaned.
"Oh fuck!" I yelled loudly. Dylan let me raise up when he pushed inside me, but then pushed my thighs down when he retreated, creating a rhythm that drove me wild.
"Oh yeah! Fuckin take my cock!" he yelled as he moved faster. I groaned with every thrust, his cock hitting spots inside me I didn't even know existed.
He then lifted me up and somehow managed to flip me onto my hands and knees. He fucked me viciously in doggy style, and I could feel his balls slapping against my ass with each thrust, making the most amazing sound.
"Oh yeah, you like that don't you?" he yelled.
"Yes! Oh shit yeah! Fuck my ass!" I yelled back.
"Oh yeeeeeaaaaah!" he grunted, fucking me even harder. He pushed as much of himself up inside me as possible. I was screaming with pleasure. He smacked my ass hard, the sound echoing in the room, then fell backward onto his hamstrings, with me partially sitting on his cock. He humped up into me quickly, forcing me to bounce up and down on his giant cock.
"Fuckin take my fat cock!" he said. He suddenly lifted me off his cock and turned me around. He sat me back down, and I yelped as he slid back inside me. He pushed my back down to the bed and started fucking me missionary style. I reached back and grabbed his ass as he thrust his cock inside, our bodies slapping together. He grunted with every push, his breathing becoming more ragged.
He suddenly grabbed me, then grabbed my legs, picked me up, and carried me over to the wall. He pushed my back against the wall and started viciously fucking me, pushing my shoulders down as I stood suspended in mid-air. I couldn't control myself. He was somehow able to grab my cock, and all of a sudden I was sent over the edge. I screamed "FUCK!" and blew my load right then and there into my underwear, bucking my legs uncontrollably. Dylan didn't notice. He kept on fucking me, and I was barely able to hang on, my body still trembling from my orgasm.
"Oh fuck, I'm gonna cum in a sec!" he yelled. He took me back to the bed and went back to missionary style. As he humped into me as hard as he could, he suddenly screamed "OH FUCK!" and quickly pulled out of my hole, grabbing himself in his hand and positioning himself in front of my face!
"TAKE IT BITCH!" he said as a white string of cum splattered out of his cock and hit me in the cheek. He screamed and grunted as he dumped what felt like hundreds of pounds of cum onto my face. He stopped for a second, then collapsed on top of me, his dick pressing against my stomach. I thought he was done, but he was still going, convulsing cum onto my stomach.
He finally stopped, slowing down, panting and dripping sweat all over me. I couldn't move.
"Oh! My! Holy fuck" I said, barely able to bring myself to a normal speaking voice.
"Yeah..." he wheezed.
I reached over and grabbed his ass, squeezing it.
We laid in my bed, unable to move, forever. We both fell asleep, with him collapsed on my chest, and me with his cum all over my face. It was the best sex I'd ever had. I already knew that I wanted more; the question was, would I get it?
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