The /hard left'
By Andy Fashion <firstname.lastname@example.org>
(feedback welcome and ecnouraged)
This is the story of the hottest, most intense sexual experience of my life. A year has gone by and I still jack off thinking about it. It’s a long tale, but worth the ride.
So let me set the scene. It’s May 2017 at Virginia University, where I’m a sophomore majoring in photography and video. I’d decided to spend the summer on campus rather than go home and live with my Trump-voting parents.
I’m from a very conservative family. Yet despite the best efforts of church and sunday school and Christian youth group and bible study and all the other shit I endured, I am 100% proudly gay.
Well, not totally proud, because I’m definitely not out to my parents. Or my friends at home. But here at VU, I’ve embraced my gay identity. In fact, this whole crazy story began as I was heading to the office of Professor Chadwick, the gender and sexuality lecturer, to help him with a project.
Guess you wanna know what I look like, you horny perv you. I’ve settled on “cute, not hot.” I’m about 5’9”, skinny but with an eight-pack of lithe abdominal muscle. I’ve got an average face, slightly round and with a few fading freckles on my cheeks. Green eyes and brown hair, kinda spiky up top and short on the sides.
Sometimes when I do sit ups in the morning, I hang my digital camera from my ceiling and film my abs as they crunch and stretch. The camera’s high-def so it picks up every bead of sweat that forms on my stomach. Eventually my entire chest is covered in a slick sheen.
I watch those videos and jerk off and cum like crazy. “One of the great gifts of being gay,” Professor Chadwick once told me “is that we’re aroused by our own anatomy.” The problem is we’re conditioned to feel guilty about self-love (not masturbation, but actual self attraction) so we push the instinct away. These videos were my way of fighting back, and I was winning. I’d stroke my dick and rub my abs with my free hand, while watching videos of my sweaty torso stretch and bend. All of it combined (at first) into this shameful guilty feeling, but eventually I’d acquired a taste for how wrong it felt, and the wrongness itself became a powerful aphrodisiac. With my final stroke I’d arch my back and scream “I fucking love this!” as long, hot ropes of cum shot out of my dick. I usually needed an entire paper towel to clean off. Sometimes it’s hard to admit that life can be this good, that enormous pleasure can be this accessible, but once you get over that hill, you get down on your knees and thank god for making you gay.
So, my dick. It’s big. My best feature by far. Eight inches hard, and pretty thick too. I didn’t realize how gifted I was until I hooked up with a few freshman last year, and saw their eyes go wide and their lips get wet as they unzipped my fly. These boys went down on my with an sexual greed that I found almost threatening, but gradually learned to love. (I considered this evolution a major development in my budding gay pride.)
I arrived a Professor Chadwick’s office in the Humanities building about five minutes early. I rapped on the frosted glass of his office door and within moments he answered. “Hey buddy, c’mon in” he said.
For an older man in his 40s, he was attractive. Sure, he had crow’s feet, and was beginning to go bald, but he was saved by his angular face, close cropped beard and muscular torso. He filled out his button down shirts nicely. His pecs and biceps were just thick enough to notice under his tweed jacket.
“Shut the door,” he said, winking. That was his big rule and I always forgot. Privacy always. I shut it and sat down. “Anything you’d like to share?”
“I thought you were gonna tell me about this project,” I said.
“Oh we’ll get to that. You just look like you’ve got something on your mind.”
It was like he was psychic. Talking to professor Chadwick was like a reverse confession -- you told a priest your sins and he helped you repent, but with Professor Chadwick, you told him your shame and he helped you turn it into pride.
I instantly blushed, but thankfully the white heat of shame I felt when we began our sessions last year was gone for good. It was getting easier, just as he promised.
“So, I hooked up with this Grindr guy-”
“Awesome,” he interrupted. “Details.”
“A townie. I’d seen him around Dominic’s. Lots of tattoos on his arms. Chest and back too.”
“Yeah, totally. I know this sounds snobbish but I kind of thought of him as white trash, and the mental hierarchy made it hotter.”
“Nothing wrong with that, as long as you keep your classism to yourself.”
“Yeah, I hear you.”
An awkward beat passed. I’d hoped Professor Chadwick would assume that was the end of my story and move on.
“But that’s not all....” he said.
Goddamnit. “No... so we were making out, and things were getting really hot, I was, what’s the phrase you use?”
“Indulging your lust.”
“Yeah, 100%. So then he takes my face in his hands and spits into my open mouth.”
“How did that make you feel?”
“Kind of dirty.” I realized the word ‘dirty’ could have unintended positive connotations, so I got more honest. “I felt ashamed.”
“That’s natural. You’re still undergoing the process of accepting your sexuality. But let’s think through this. When you make out with someone, you’re swapping spit, correct?”
“Human beings, heterosexual and homosexual, from the beginning of time, have tasted each other’s saliva for sexual gratification. The normalized mode is two intertwined tongues. What this boy did to you was less sensual and more.... forceful... but the end result was the same. The intimate intermingling of saliva.”
“You’re totally right... it was just new I guess.”
“Promise me the next time you fuck someone, you’ll spit in his mouth. The only way to fight shame is an all-out assault of pride.”
“I promise,” I said, and as always, my little confession session with Chadwick had given me a raging hard on. The combination of an older man guiding me, fulfilling the need for a queer father figure, and our explicit sexual conversation mixed into a heady erotic cocktail.
“Good,” he said, and stood up. I could see the outline of his cock pressed up against his slacks. It seemed he appreciated the conversation as well. Knowing I could see it, he gave his member a quick rub, flashing the gold wedding band on his ring finger.
“You’re probably wondering why I asked to see you,” he said. “I’m sure you’ve heard of the Unite the Right rally planned for next week in our little town. Although ‘the right’ is just a euphemism. We’re talking about nazis. Never thought I’d see it again in my lifetime, but here we are.”
“Oh god, yeah,” I said, my face twisted in disgust. “I was gonna go to Dr. Froeder’s lecture on nonviolent resistance that day.”
Professor Chadwick frowned. “Practically the whole campus is. But not me.” He looked at me conspiratorially. “Adam, have you heard of antifa?”
“Don’t think I have.”
“It’s short for antifascism. Antifa groups sprung up all over the world after the hard lessons of World War 2. In the United States, in the age of Trump, they’re about to become famous again.”
“What is it, a political party?” I asked.
“No. There’s no central leadership. Antifa groups can be formed by anyone brave enough to take up the cause. The only thing they have in common is they take direct action to fight fascism.”
“What does that mean?”
“It means that we believe non-violence is not the answer. Fascists must be harassed and beat in the public square.”
I noticed his use of the word ‘we’. Professor Chadwick was fit, but he didn’t seem the type to brawl in the streets. “Are you antifa?” I asked.
“Yes, but my fighting days are behind me.” Without warning he untucked his button down shirt and revealed a faded scar, about five inches long, across his abdomen. “Courtesy of a knife-wielding KKK member.” I couldn’t help but notice his lovely abs and black dusting of body hair that led down below his belt... to the monster trying to burst through his pants. My mouth went dry and my cock twitched.
He fixed his shirt and looked at me. “This is the part where I swear you to secrecy, young man.”
“Oh, my god, I swear,” I said, and I meant it. Over the past year and a half I’d come to trust this man with my intensely private sexual feelings and confusions. And whenever I came to him with some secret shame, he left me feeling freer and prouder. He lifted invisible weights off my shoulders, made me happier and more sexually fulfilled than I’d ever thought possible. I’d do just about anything for him.
“You know I teach a small senior seminar?” he asked.
Of course I knew. It was for men only, which caused no small amount of controversy on our progressive and feminist campus. But just about every guy in the student body wanted to be in his seminar, called “Detoxifying Masculinity.” It met for an entire year, not just a semester, and was talked about in hushed, reverential tones, as if it were a religious experience that would ultimately bring you enlightenment.
“Yeah, of course. Everybody wants in.”
“Indeed they do. I’m very selective with who I take. I only take men who I think will truly put in the work. This year, however, we’ve diverted from our usual syllabus. The moment this Nazi rally was announced a year ago, I knew something had to be done. So I turned my seminar into an Antifa cell. We read every radical anti fascist text I could get my hands on. In addition, we trained. We did crossfit, we ran, we lifted weights, we did hand-to-hand combat training. I created a small group of soldiers.”
I was speechless. My mouth was so dry and I was so fucking hard. Militant queerness has a long tradition - the warriors of Sparta, for example. The fey queen was just a stereotype of the modern age. RuPaul had done her part in making femininity the center of gay culture, but the truth was there were queer men on the frontlines of the most epic battles of history. And here it was again, being revived before my very eyes.
Professor Chadwick sensed my train of thought and said, “If you’re not hard, you’re not alive.” We both laughed, demolishing the tension in the room.
“So you’re gonna take your senior seminar into the streets and bash some Nazi skulls?” I asked.
“Simply put, yes.”
So that answered that. But I still wondered why he needed me. I was no warrior. The worst I could do to a Nazi was outrun him.
“That brings us to you, young man. You’re a talented photographer with quick reflexes. I saw your hummingbird.”
Earlier this year, the photography club held a contest. I snapped a pic of a hummingbird mid-flight. Cliched, but fucking difficult. I won second place. “You want me to take pictures?” I asked.
“Videos. Capturing the fight is almost as important as the fight itself. We need to spread the message of violent anti fascist resistance. And we need to circumvent the media, which gets its panties in a bunch over any violence at ell, as if all violence is created equal. Both sides-ism,” he said with a scoff.
“I want to help,” I said. “It just sounds risky.”
“My boys have been instructed to protect you. Think of yourself as a photojournalist with a military detail. They have a job to do, and keeping you safe is part of it. And of course, your participation guarantees your acceptance into my senior seminar when you come of age.”
“I’m in,” I said, before I could pussy out. “Whatever you need.”
“Excellent. Come to room 407 on May 15th. Bring your camera equipment and wear clothes you can move quickly in.”
I spent the week “indulging my lust” as the Good Professor would say, stroking my eight-inch cock three times a day. I fantasized about ancient Greek warriors. I even watched the movie 300 again and imagined myself worshipping the soldiers’ jacked, tanned bodies, flicking my tongue across their brown nipples and rubbing my face into their rock hard biceps like a horny animal. Then they would surround me, calloused hands encircling hard cocks, stroking back and forth, drenching me in cum. I moaned as I pictured their white hot seed -- that ancient fluid that contains the mystery of life, whose only purpose is to find an egg -- splatter pointlessly on my hair, my face, my body, even lubing up my cock so I could, with a rush of deviant pleasure, gush my own seed upon the floor.
When the appointed day and time arrived, I made my way swiftly to room 407, which was tucked in a small space at the very top of the old humanities building. I knocked softly on the door, my heart in my throat.
The door opened and I was greeted by the familiar face of Professor Chadwick. He smiled and beckoned me inside.
“Guys, this is Adam. He’s our videographer.”
Sitting before me in chairs spread across the room were eight gorgeous VU seniors, with thick muscled bodies that were bulging out of their black t-shirts and black short sleeved military jackets. They were paired off giving each other haircuts with electric razors. Professor Chadwick turned to one guy holding a razor and said “short on the sides, almost completed shaved by not quite. Keep the top longer.”
He stepped back to address everyone. “Keep an eye on your brothers - your haircuts need to be as close to identical as possible. It’s crucial to your strength as a unit.”
I started to feel in the way, so I whipped out my camera and began taking photos. It was also a great excuse to get up close and check out some of the guys. These were the type of guys I might see at the rec center and slobber over, without ever having a prayer of fucking. As the haircuts commenced, they’d say mock-flirty things like “god you’re gorgeous” followed by bro-ish laughter, and I realized with surprise that most of these guys were straight. I was amazed and pleased these straight men would take a seminar about feminism and toxic masculinity, but I was disappointed that my queer soldier fantasies would remain just that... fantasies.
And then I laid eyes on Jerome and Danny. They’re the reason I’m writing this down. Even typing their names makes me shiver with lust.
I didn’t know they were gay immediately. As Danny finished up Jerome’s haircut, they seemed no different from the bros around them. Then I noticed Danny softly brush away some fuzz from the side of Jerome’s head. I instantly took a photo. I zoomed in closer, looking for signs of intimacy. Danny whispered something to Jerome and he laughed. Then he turned to Danny and planted a quick kiss on his lips.
A quick aside, so you understand how hot they were. Jerome was black. He looked like Keiynan Lonsdale from Love Simon (google him), same light mocha skin, same beautiful almond eyes, strong chin and elegant cheekbones. Only, like the rest of his brothers, he was bursting with muscle. Danny was a white boy, with ginger hair, piercing green eyes, and a smattering of light freckles across his face. His nose was boyishly upturned -- the crown upon a disarmingly pretty face. If it weren’t for the almost threatening amount of muscle on his body, he’d make the perfect twink.
I snapped their kiss, and as soon as they realized I was focusing on them, they put on a little show. They started twisting their tongues together, leaving as much pink outside their mouths as possible, so I could capture every strand of spit that stretched between them. And when that got old, they starting massaging each other’s cock through their track pants. They even pinned down the loose fabric around their dicks, making a clean outline so I could capture all of it. The pair were both very, very well endowed.
“Alright boys, fun’s over,” Chadwick said. “Circle up.”
Jerome and Danny flashed him a wicked smile as they joined their brothers in a loose circle.
“We’re diving in head first. We’re going to huddle up at the Robert E Lee monument 30 minutes before the rally starts. We’ll be the first thing those assholes see.”
The circle erupted in a chorus of warrior grunts.
“Whatever you do, do not strike first. Provoke them all you want. But if you strike first, the narrative is fucked. Understood?”
They nodded in unison.
“Eventually one of those fascist fucks is gonna take a swing. Adam, this is where you come in. You must - and I mean MUST - get it on video. It’s our ticket to winning the media war.”
“Yeah, definitely” I said, my voice trembling, betraying weakness. A few of the guys laughed, and two others gave me side eye and whispered to each other. Then I shot a glance at Jerome and Danny, worried they’d be judging me. But no. They had their arms around each other and weren’t even paying attention. I felt relieved. Still, there was a whiff of toxic masculinity in the room and I wondered if ol’ Professor Chadwick was doing his job.
“Some ground rules,” the Prof said. “One: hit till you see blood, then stop. We don’t want any serious injuries coming back to haunt us. Two: defend your brothers. We’re gonna be outnumbered, so don’t let yourselves get ganged up on. And three-”
Professor Chadwick came behind him and scooped me into his arms. “Protect this little pup. He’s fragile.” The room burst into laughter and Professor Chadwick put me down, giving my left ass cheek a nice squeeze as he did so. The guys came up one by one and tousled my hair or gave me a little tap on the arm, and I was filled with relief as the tension broke. Jerome came up and patted my stomach, made a noise of approval and shared a dirty look with Danny.
“Ok boys. The hour is almost upon us. It’s time for our devotionals.”
A sudden seriousness gripped the room and the guys circled up again and stared intently at Professor Chadwick. “One,” he said.
They spoke in unison, clearly having practiced this before: “Though I might inflict violence today, I am a vessel of peace.”
“We express love and solidarity for all men, regardless of race, religion, or sexuality. We advocate the peaceful coexistence of all cultures.”
“We recognize the brilliance of our homosexual brothers, for their boundless creativity has freed them from the nuclear family.”
I wasn’t expecting that one, and it sent a shiver of excitement down my spine. All these gorgeous, white bread straight boys, not just accepting but exalting homosexuality. Professor Chadwick was a genius. I looked at Jerome and Danny. They were staring deeply into each other’s eyes. From my angle I could only see Danny’s perfect green eyes; they were moist with tears.
“Excellent” Professor Chadwick said. “Jerome and Danny, share your brilliance with us.”
Their mouths came together in a hot embrace while their hands made their way to each other’s pecs and loosely fondled their nipples. One of my struggles as a gay man is finding a balance between love and lust, and this was the most perfect combination I’d seen. A tender, sweet unity with a hint of animal rawness. After a few moments, Professor Chadwick spoke up.
I was bowled over as the six remaining straight guys paired off and began making out. They were awkward and sloppy, but totally committed. In that moment, they desired not each other, but simply the experience of being homosexual, so they could share it with Jerome and Danny. This was an act of group unity that went far beyond the typical unit cohesion.
“Good. Very, very good,” Professor Chadwick said, and the boys broke their embraces. They huddled in close breathing heavily, like racehorses raring to sprint down the track. The room filled with a heady mixture of lust and male power. Here were my Greek warriors at last.
We camped at the Robert E Lee statue in Mercer Square. The boys had donned Bell helmet and sported thin night sticks. Professor Chadwick put me in a red Make America Great Again hat as a diversionary tactic.
It was hot and I was sweating under my cotton t-shirt. I had one camera in my hand and another in a case slung around my back. In retrospect it was very stupid to bring two cameras. I had no idea what I was about to get into.
We stood there waiting in the Virginia sunshine as people peacefully milled around us. A few cops had already shown up and one came up and issued us a warning, saying he wouldn’t hesitate to arrest us if we started any shit. Other than that, it was quiet, and I wondered if any of the guys felt as nervous as I did.
That’s when I saw the first of them. A thin line of chubby, bearded idiots in Pepe the Frog clothes, carrying shields and fake sword like actors in a discount renaissance faire. As if it wasn’t clear enough who and what they were, they waved confederate and “Kekistan” flags (look it up)
Walking alongside them was a sousaphone player playing Ride of the Valkyries in dopey oompah tones. It was the perfect soundtrack for these dumpy idiots, and instantly drained them of whatever scraps of power they had. Professor Chadwick and his boys erupted into uproarious laughter. Even the cops were chuckling.
They halfwit racists amassed at the other end of Mercer Square and it became apparent there wouldn’t be a confrontation. That’s when I heard a chant coming from the avenue on the north end of the square. Slowly it got louder until I could make out every syllable: “Jews! Will Not! Replace Us!”
“This is it” Chadwick said, and a sudden tension swept over the group. We stood our ground and let the mob approach. They were maybe thirty in number, and unlike their cosplaying friends, they meant business. They held batons and shields, tiki torches (pointless during the day), were clad in black and sported all manner of fascist tattoos. They were physically fit and looked ready to fight. When they got close enough, I saw a burning hatred in their eyes.
The formed a circle around the statue, locking us inside. The cops did nothing. They pulled in tighter but we held our ground.
“I fucked Hitler’s corpse” one of the straight guys said, in an attempt at provocation. No effect. It didn’t land.
The lead Nazi, an ugly bastard with disturbingly large fists, said “Looks like we found the Jew lovers”
I readied my camera.
“Heard your mom’s a Jew lover,” Danny said.
“She can’t get enough circumcised dick,” Jerome followed up.
It wasn’t exactly witty, but it got the job done. Lead Nazi took a swing and bashed Jerome right in the jaw. I got the whole thing on camera.
All hell broke loose. I tried to hover around the center of the action, but with the Nazis bearing in from all angles, it was getting too close for comfort. I had just filmed one of our guys night clubbing a Nazi in the forehead, sending a small fountain of blood into the air, when I felt a tug on the camera case around my back. Two nazis were trying to tug me to the ground, and I realized my MAGA hat had long since fallen off.
I fell to the ground and one of them literally scooped me up and put me over his shoulder. “Come on!” he screamed to his friend, and they started carrying me off the god knows where. I screamed for help, and from my upside-down angle I watched one of the cops just looked at me and casually waved goodbye. As the Nazi carrying me ran faster, the jostling became too much and I had to close my eyes.
He threw me to the ground in a drainage ditch about a quarter mile from Mercer Square. He and his friend stared down at me, deciding what to do. I didn’t say anything, figuring I’d just make it worse.
“What the fuck are we gonna do with you?” one said.
“We’re gonna make a sacrifice out of you. A sacrifice to the aryan nation,” the other responded.
My stomach tightened. Survival mode kicked in. I tried to my escape routes, but I was still woozy from being thrown on the ground.
“Look up,” one said. I did. They had a look of pure disgust on their faces. ”You’re going to learn to worship the aryan man.”
They shared a look, then unzipped their pants and pulled out their dicks. The one on the right started pissing first. His steaming hot stream hit me right in the chest. Before I could even gasp, the other one sprayed my hair. I gagged, utterly reviled. They laughed at my torment.
“Open your mouth” one said, but I wasn’t sure which, I had long since closed my eyes. A sharp slap across my face sent a shock of pain into my system. “Now, faggot”
I cracked open my mouth open, and as soon as my lips were barely parted, a hot gush of piss shot inside. I gagged, spit it out, then vomited. They laughed as I sobbed in my piss-soaked clothes. I couldn’t bear to look at them.
“You gotta drain us, faggot. There’s a lot more--”
I heard a sickening CRACK and looked up. Nazi numero uno was lying unconscious on the grass. Standing over him was Jerome, holding his nightstick in a warrior pose. Nazi numero dos made a lunge at Jerome, but he did some Thai Chi shit and flipped the Nazi upside down. Nazi landed with a nasty thud and curled up in pain, the wind totally and completely knocked out of him. That's when Danny showed up and kicked him in the head.
I hate to say it, but I was embarrassed. I didn’t want them to see me so helpless and pathetic, and reeking of piss. I couldn’t stop crying. It was hard to face them.
“It’s okay, pup,” Jerome said. “C’mere.”
He picked me up and slung one of my arms around his neck. He didn’t seem to mind getting Nazi piss on his clothes.
“Thank you, so much,” I said.
“Don’t even mention it,” Danny said. “You’re our brother.”
He put his arm around my waist, and it felt so nice to be between them. Even in the revolting state I found myself in, the heat from their bodies was electric.
“You did amazing work today,” Jerome said. “You deserve a reward.”
And with my body between theirs, we made our way to Professor’s Chadwick’s loft a few blocks away.
Professor Chadwick ushered us inside quickly. Still ashamed of my predicament, I watched his face contort as the smell of the piss reached his nose. I looked away.
“Poor kid, we’ll get you in the shower,” he said.
Still carrying me, Jerome and Danny passed him and he called up “Shit Jerome, is your face ok?”
“Never better!” Jerome said.
They deposited me in Professor Chadwick sizeable master bathroom. “Get yourself cleaned up and come find us,” Jerome said, and shut the door.
I peeled off my clothes and relished the hot water as it cleansed me of all that filth. I lathered up my hands with body wash and scrubbed my body as hard as I could. The shampoo felt glorious as it cleansed my hair. In less than five minutes, I was good as new. I grabbed an oversized terry cloth towel and dried off, wrapping it around my waist. I looked at my body in the mirror and felt that erotic tinge I’d been nursing. I ran my hands along my abs and thought with a year’s work I could be as thick and Jerome and Danny.
“Professor Chadwick, can I borrow some clothes?” I shouted as I opened the door to his bedroom. The sight before me instantly shut me up.
Jerome and Danny were standing by the bay window, their jackets and shirts discarded on the ground. In the afternoon sunlight, they looked like gods. They had the thick torsos of rugby players. I nearly drooled as I eye fucked their rounded pecs and sharply defined six pack abs. Danny was smooth, but Jerome had a dusting of black hair across his chest and tummy. Their pants hung low on their waists, revealing the tip top of their public lines.
“Hey pup,” Jerome said. He and Danny looked at each other mischievously, then turned back at me.
That’s when I remembered what Jerome said back at the drainage ditch. I’d tuned it out because I was still traumatized, but it came back in a flash: “You deserve a reward.”
“Adam.” It was Professor Chadwick, sitting in a wingback chair in the corner of the room. I hadn’t noticed him.
“Y-yeah?” I said, in the same trembly voice I’d used in the classroom.
They all shared a chuckle. “Adam, while you were in the shower, I took a look at your videos. They’re magnificent. No one will be able to question our motives with these. Fox News will spin themselves into contortions trying to justify them, but they won’t succeed. You’re a hero.”
“Th- thanks,” I said, feeling inarticulate yet incapable of fixing it.
“You’re an integral part of this group,” he continued. “More importantly, like Jerome, Danny and myself, you’re queer. Like us, you were blessed at birth with sexual brilliance. And for your heroic actions today, we wish to initiate you into our brotherhood.”
He was looking at me with a sudden seriousness. I glanced at Jerome and Danny and saw the same intensity in their eyes. The three of them were absent-mindedly fondling their cocks through their pants. The room was filling with sexual tension.
“I want to get fucked!” I blurted out, my raw desire taking a machete to my rational mind.
“That’s excellent,” Professor Chadwick said. “But this won’t be like some Grindr hook up. We’re going to push you into new territory. Are you okay with that?”
“Yes, I’m so horny,” I said. Everyone laughed. The truth is funny.
“Danny and Jerome are going to share you.” Professor Chadwick said. Share me, as if I were a pizza. “I’m going to watch and guide you, if you need it.” He leaned back in the wingback chair and stroked his cock through his pants. I caught a flash of his wedding band again... I’d never met his husband Brian. He was in China for a year getting copyrights for polymers or something boring. They had an open marriage, and he often told me how much better their relationship got when they opened things up.
Danny and Jerome approached me and together slid the towel off my waist. My eight inches popped up with such force that it slapped against my stomach before settling into its natural angle. There was already a bead of precum on the tip. Jerome dabbed it with his finger, stuck out his tongue, and wiped it across. Danny licked my pre-cum off Jerome’s tongue. They smiled and kissed, before turning their attention to me.
They put their hands on my waist again...I felt the heat of their touch and wanted more. They both knelt to the floor and Danny wrapped his lips around my cock. He effortlessly deep throated me, the warm silky sensation sending me into a fit of ecstasy. He looked up at me and I saw a lustful hunger in his eyes, the same hunger I’d seen in other boys and learned to love.
He pulled his mouth off my dick with a popping sound, and pushed it in Jerome’s direction. “You gotta try this, babe,” he said, panting.
Jerome licked the length of my shaft, back and forth, stroking me with his mouth. He curled his lips and flared his nostrils, taking on a greedy, monstrous look as he indulged himself in my cock. This was lust on a whole new level - beast-like and half-crazed. Professor Chadwick saw a look a trepidation flash across the my face, and came to my aid.
“Don’t be scared, Adam. His desire is natural.”
“O..okay” I said, shuddering from pleasure.
“He’s an animal, so are you. Embrace it.”
Jerome looked up at me and pulled his mouth off of my meat. A long strand of spit stretched from the tip of my dick to his parted lips.
“We’re just getting started,” he said, and began licking the left half of my shaft. Right on cue, Danny ran his tongue along the right half.
“Adam, this is important,” Chadwick said. “How many loads do you have in you?”
“At least two,” I panted.
“Let him have it,’ he said to the boys. They started speeding up their oral stroking and I felt my balls twitch. Danny started playing with my sack and Jerome slid a finger into my hole, probing at first, then pushing up sharply and penetrating me. He finger fucked me for about 10 seconds and I was so drunk with pleasure that I swear my eye rolled to the back of my head. Then Jerome yanked his finger out, stood up, and shoved it in my mouth. I gagged but he persisted, shoving it in further. “C’mon kiddo. You got this,” he said. I calmed my gag reflex and savored the musty sweet taste of my ass on his finger. It was so fucking nasty and so fucking deviant and I loved it.
I shot a long thick rope onto the expensive hardwood floor. I collapsed on the bed while Professor Chadwick and the boys applauded. I rolled around luxuriously on the soft down comforter, aglow in the acceptance I felt and the post-orgasm dopamine flooding my brain.
Jerome and Danny got down on the bed with me and sandwiched my body between them. Their strong arms squeezed me tight and I moaned at the warmth and safety of their embrace. Danny slipped his tongue in between my lips and probed the inside of mouth. He tasted vaguely like honey, and my heart grew three sizes. Jerome pulled my face to his and planted a few delicate kisses on my forehead, my eyelids and my nose. The he slipped his tongue into my mouth and we made out for what felt like ten minutes.
“We queer men are a balance of tenderness and lust,” Chadwick said. “Without tenderness, we’re as bad as the fascists. Without lust, we aren’t men.”
By this time I was sporting a hard eight inches again. Without sharing a word, Danny and Jerome got up and pulled off their pants and underwear in unison. They were both achingly hard. Danny had low hanging balls and a seven inch cock, nestled in a bed of fine red pubes. Jerome’s had nine full inches, thick and veiny, with a taut foreskin. His nuts were practically Christmas ornaments.
This time I did drool. I couldn’t help myself. Embarrassed, I started to laugh at myself when Jerome thrust his cock in my face. It slid right through my slick, parted lips and landed on the back of my tongue. The scent of his sweaty crotch filled my nose and sent me into overdrive. I instinctively grabbed the base of his shaft and went to town on the upper half of his cock, relishing its girth as it forced my lips apart and filled my mouth.
“Look at me, pup,” Jerome said, and as I glanced upward, a glob of spit fell from his mouth and hit me on the nose. “Keep sucking. Don’t stop.”
“Don’t stop,” Danny echoed. “You’re doing so great.”
Just then, Jerome pulled his cock out of my mouth and pointed me toward Danny’s raging erection. It was a timed maneuver... just as I pivoted around, a ball of spit fell from Danny’s mouth and hit my forehead. Danny gently smeared their spit together using my face as a canvas. Then he used his index finger to draw a line across my forehead, followed by two dots. Jerome did the same.
“They’ve marked you,” professor Chadwick said. “Jerome and Danny will guide you through the next phase of your sexual development, if you choose to accept their help.”
“God yes!” I screamed.
“Fuckin’ ay,” Danny said, looking down at me with his boyish face and impish smile. “I want you to try deep throating my cock.”
I knew I could handle his seven inches so I bore down on it, suppressing my gag reflex and enjoying the slutty feeling of a cockhead invading my throat. Jerome was running his hands up and down my back, soothing me.
Professor Chadwick got up and moved closer. He was speaking directly into my ear. “Adam,” he said. “I want you to make that face Jerome made. The animal face.”
I was already so lust-crazed for Danny’s cock that it didn’t take much to flare my nostrils and curl my lips into the beast-like face that Jerome had made earlier. What I didn’t expect were the piggish grunting noises that issued from deep within me, as if my lust had its own voice. The sound revolted me at first, but Jerome’s tender hands on my back urged me through it. A word flashed in my mind, one I’d seen on a gay cam site: “cum pig.” I was a cum pig. The realization broke my heart. Something inside me died at that moment. The sense of destruction triggered a fresh hot wave of lust inside me. I doubled-down, gorging myself on Danny’s hot cock and snorting like a greedy pig. Jerome, Danny and Professor Chadwick erupted into a celebratory cheer.
“He’s ready,” Professor Chadwick said, and Danny pushed my flat on my back. I was shocked to see that Professor Chadwick had stripped down to his underwear. I never thought we’d cross this barrier.
I couldn’t deny he had a fine body for a man his age, with curly black hairs covering his pecs and stomach. He was absent-mindedly tweaking his nipple and staring at me indecisively. Jerome and Danny were awaiting his orders.
“Adam, the boys and I undergo regular STD testing. Have you been tested recently?” he asked.
“Uh, yeah... like six weeks ago. I haven’t done anything risky since then.”
He nodded, opened a drawer in his bureau and threw a bottle of lube to Jerome, who swiftly caught it.
“You ready to get pounded?” he said with a devious smile as he greased up his schlong.
“Yes daddy,” I said.
“You’re in for a good time, pup,” Danny said. “I know his dick well.” Danny lifted my back and slid underneath me. He started lightly tweaking my nipples as Jerome approached for entry. My butthole winked in anticipation.
He slid the tip in and it was already too much. My anal ring had never been stretched like this before and a sharp pain shot through my body. I yelped and Jerome pulled out. I heard Professor Chadwick go back to his drawer and retrieve something. Before I knew what was happening, he shoved some amyl nitrate under my nose.
I moaned as blood shot to my head, filling me with a rush of dreamy pleasure. Just then, Jerome slid in. I was magically loose and there was no pain. “Is the tip in?” I asked.
“I’m halfway in, pup. Poppers work,” he said.
He pushed in further and I soaked up the slutty pleasure of being used that I felt whenever I got fucked. He slid in even more, and I was blown away by how much dick I could take. “More!” I shouted, and he rammed up against me so tight I could feel his pubes on my taint.
He started thrusting. First a few inches, then almost the entire length of his dick. I settled into the blissful sense of oblivion that came as he pounded me to bits, as his nine-inch bareback cock claimed my insides as its own.
That’s when Danny sat on my face. His puckered, hairless asshole landed right between my nose and my mouth. The honey sweet, slightly rank smell filled my senses as he shifted his damp anus around until it pressed against my lips.
“Eat him, Adam. Get you tongue inside him,” Professor Chadwick said, and I could hear him beating his cock over the sound of Jerome’s grunting.
The dirtier the act, the more it excited me. I knew I was well on my way to indulging in some truly perverted pleasures. But I had the rest of my life to explore them. For now, I slathered Danny’s tight hole, darting my tongue inside, parting his ring and pressing up as far I could go. I heard Danny moan, then felt his wet hot seed splatter on my legs.
Jerome nearly screamed and I felt a warm sticky sensation fill my ass and dribble out the side. I grabbed my cock, and within one stroke blew my baby batter all over my body and face. So much semen, not a vagina in site. Sexual brilliance.
Danny lifted his ass of my face and we all turned to Professor Chadwick, whose meaty cock was pointing straight up. He stroked it with one hand while tickling his balls with the other. As he stared at the three of us -- beautiful young homosexuals he’d made in his image -- his face twisted into (and this still weirds me out) an expression of horror, as if he couldn’t believe what he’d done. As if he’d murdered us in a fit of rage and now had to face the corpses. And as that look of terror fixed itself on his face, he wailed (yes, wailed) and he came in thick white bursts. It splattered on the bed and the floor. As he recovered from his orgasm, I noticed a glob of cum had dribbled across his wedding band, and it filled me with dark longing.
Copyright 2018 Andy Fashion