A knock on my dorm room door wakes me up. I look at the clock. It’s 1am. It could only be one person. Instantly, my heart rate goes up and I feel my dick stiffen in my boxers. Normally, I get a text or something, so it’s odd there is no warning. I sit up and swing my legs off the side of the bed. There’s another knock. I start to wake up, running my palms over my face and then rubbing my eyes to get the sleep out. I flip on my small desk light and stagger to the door and open it.
“Hey,” he says quietly, looking down, averting his eyes. Then he looks down the hall nervously. He’s wearing a hoodie with the hood up, concealing his handsome face, a shock of dark hair poking out from the top. The hoodie would be baggy on most guys, but on him, it fits like a glove. He’s so big and tall, a good half-foot taller then me. You can’t hide the kind of broad shoulders and arms like he has in anything.
“Hey,” I reply as I step aside, and he quickly steps through the door and closes it. Still not looking at me, he walks past me and stands next to my bed. He unzips his hoodie, takes it off and throws it over my desk chair. He’s not wearing a shirt, so his bare, muscular, plate-like chest is revealed. He kicks off his shoes. He takes the waist band of his joggers and whisps them down over his bare legs and steps out of them. I watch him and, as always, I am in awe of his smooth, athletic, musculature. He has a body that would make any fitness model envious.
As if on autopilot, I push down my boxers and kick them aside and he lays down on my bed, face down. His perfect, bubbled, carved out of granite ass flexes as he arches his back, humping the mattress.
I open a drawer in a night stand next to the bed. I retrieve a bottle of lube. I squeeze a glob onto my dick and slather it up and down my full eight-inches of hard flesh. I climb onto the bed, and he automatically spreads his legs. I glob another squirt of lube onto his waiting hole and slowly push my finger in. His ass reflexively tightens, and he lets out a small whimper. I smirk as I watch the muscles in his back knot up as squirms around my finger. I slowly finger him, delighting in the quiet moans and whimpers coming from the beefy man before me. I enter another finger, and I feel him tense up. I bite my bottom lip. I feel powerful, cocky, aggressive, knowing that I am a little more than half his size and he is submitting to me.
I hear a quiet, “fuck” hiss from his lips. I almost can’t hear it. That’s normally all I get from him beyond a quick greeting at the door. I put my knees between his legs and kick them out wider. I do it forcefully to show him I’m in charge now. I aim my thick cock down and kiss the head against his hole. I feel him tense up again and he takes in a breath. I slowly enter him. He makes fists with my sheets; his face turns sideways. His eyes are shut, his teeth clenched as I slide down into him. He grunts as I go deep.
I grasp the sides of his waist; my thumbs press into the two dimples just above his ass. I can’t wait any longer and I shove in until I’m down to the root. He lets out a gasp and then a hiss of air. I remain still. He needs to get used to my girth. He always needs to get used to it before I proceed. He’s breathing is rapid, taking deep breaths in and hissing it out. His body is perfect, hardly any body fat, every muscle flexed like a relief map of a mountain range. His body looks like a powerful machine that I have control of for the next few minutes. Every time he comes to my room, the duration of fucking goes a little longer. He’s getting better at taking it. His visits to me are becoming more frequent in the last few weeks.
I ease out and he sweeps his arm back, placing his hand firmly on my hip to signal to me to take it slow. I grasp his hand and swipe it away from my hip. He doesn’t get to control me. He doesn’t get to control how he gets fucked. It’s amazing how only two words have been spoken since he walked in. Our silence is an unspoken condition of these encounters. Our actions speak louder than words. He’s ashamed of what he wants and needs. He doesn’t like the way he acts when we are together. No words, just fucking.
I slide in to the root and his arm begins to sweep back again. But I clamp down on his wrist and I aggressively force his arm above his head. I push it down into the mattress. I hear him let out a quiet “fuck” again, a rare verbal release telling me he likes being forced and controlled. I get off on hearing him and a surge of aggression courses through me, so to add to his need to be used, I pin his other wrist above his head. My chest is on his back, and I immediately begin a steady rhythm of sawing in and out of his muscular ass. I hear quiet moans and groans from him as I pump faster into him.
I grasp his wrists tighter, his hands balled up into fists. His jaw is clenched, and his eyes are still closed. He dare not look at me. He doesn’t want to see the man fucking him. His shame runs deep. His toxic masculinity is taking a severe blow knowing a smaller man has his dick inside of him. There is no kissing, no cuddling, no acknowledgment of me except for my dick inside of him. He knows how much I get off on it, and that in turn, makes him even more submissive to me. Everyday he exudes his alpha male persona. I think it must be exhausting to be constantly in character, always portraying a hard as nails exterior, a tough attitude, but he really just wants to be fucked, to be used for another man’s pleasure.
I begin to slam fuck him. I let go of his wrists and I raise into a push up position and let my body slam down onto him, forcing my dick all the way in. His head lifts, his face is red as he tries to hold in a scream, a howl of pleasure. We’re in my dorm room; he can’t be heard letting everyone know how much he likes getting dicked. It’s stressful enough for him to sneak around incognito to some kid’s dorm to get fucked. I take great pleasure knowing that. I love it.
I fuck him harder. My aim is always to see how much he can take. I want to see if I can make him scream or at least hear his deep voice swear loudly. It seems like the more we fuck, the closer I get him to breaking his silence. For now, I have to settle for his quiet whimpers and the occasional “fuck.” I do love it when he grunts. I love to hear his guttural approvals of my dick inside his ass.
I bite my bottom lip as I focus on thrusting up inside him. I really want to hear something intelligible from him. I want to hear something verbal telling me how much of a bitch he is but doesn’t want to admit it.
I start grunting myself with each thrust, each slam, each smack that echoes through my small single dorm room. I break the unspoken rule.
“Bitch,” I whisper in a growl.
I see his eyes open if only for a second. He let’s out a whisper, “Oh God.”
Any other man wouldn’t be able to take the thrashing I’m giving him. But his body is built to take aggression. He’s rock hard, solid, all muscle. It’s almost as if he trains his body for this sort of thing.
“Cunt,” I growl, barely audible, but he can hear it above the thuds and smacks of my body slamming down onto his ass.
His eyes open again but they stay open. The side of his face is smashed into the mattress. He whimpers again. He’s getting off on it. “Yes,” I hear him say.
I’m getting off on it too. In fact, it’s such an adrenaline rush to hear him agree with my harsh words that I feel my balls churn. The first few times, he made it clear I wasn’t to cum inside of him. But over time, I made it clear that I would. I really put it to him as I knew I was about to explode.
He let out a chorus of whispers, “Yes, yes, yes.”
I grinned. I knew I could get it out of him. I corkscrewed into him. I was just about to shoot my load. I slammed in to the hilt and said out loud, “Faggot.” And I let loose a torrent of cum into him.
His reaction was to raise his head and yell out, “FUCK YES!”
I did it. I finally made him acknowledge his situation, and our roles. He acknowledged that he was weak, he needed to be cunted. He was a faggot power-bottom. I could feel him humping into the mattress. He was cumming without touching himself. I thrust in a few more times getting all the cum out of my balls.
I lay on top of him for a few minutes. Both of us breathing hard. I looked down at the side of his handsome face, that square jaw, those cheekbones. He was absolutely beautiful. I could stay inside of him forever.
My dick began to soften. I slowly pulled out of him which made him hiss. I rolled off of him and settled beside him. His head still turned away from me, not wanting me to see his face. Another minute and he slowly pushed himself up and around, putting his feet in the floor. He leaned forward, rounded his back, elbows on his knees, face buried in his palms. I lay there watching him, stopping myself from running my hand over his upper back. Soon, he dropped his hands down between his knees. He was staring straight ahead at nothing. This was the longest he had stayed put after a fuck. I could see he was in deep thought about something.
He ran his fingers through his thick, dark hair and then stood up. There was a wet spot on the sheets where he had been sitting. I smirked knowing it was my jizz. He reach down to the floor and picked up his joggers and slide them on. He slipped his feet into his shoes and then pulled on his hoodie. He pulled the hood up over his head. For the first time, he turned and looked down at me. His eyes were bloodshot, watery. I looked back and gave him a cocky sneer. I wasn’t about to let him think he could revert back to his alpha persona until after he left my room. I sneered and stroked my dick as I looked at him like a side of beef.
He studied my face, looked down at my cock and then back to my face. He just nodded a few times and lowered his eyes. He turned away and left my room. I felt like a king. I felt like a warrior who just plundered and raped. I was so proud of myself. I’m going to sleep well tonight.
