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It started in fall of 1990. Robert and I were both college students and we had some classes together. I had a crappy dorm room, so we’d party at Robert’s apartment. We just kind of hit it off as buddies.
Robert’s apartment always looked like a bomb had just gone off. We’d hang out and smoke weed and drink beer together, maybe watch some TV. Get drunk. Sometimes I would crash on his couch too drunk to drive back to the dorm. He was a real Texan, tall, tanned and lithe. He always had the latest Hustler and other fuck mags he liked to flip through with me as we got high. We’d laugh and make stupid comments about the silly porn poses.
Naturally, we would both become sexually aroused, being healthy young men. I’d snatch furtive glances at the huge bulge in Robert’s jeans. Robert like to brag about what a lady’s man he was, grabbing his crotch while boasting about his cock size. I often thought about saying, “oh, yeah, well, let me see what you are packing Mr. Stud” Sadly, Robert seemed so straight I didn’t dare hit on him.
The ironic thing was that Hustler and some of the other skin mags showed a lot of great photos of cock sucking, double penetration and always ended in a gorgeous money shot of cum-dripping cocks next to some babe’s spunk splashed quim or face. Robert never saw the irony of us straight bros getting raging tents in our jeans together while looking at beautiful cum spurting dongs. He only saw the babe slurping on the erection, not the erection itself. Me? I saw the dick, alright.
Robert would pull a skin mag out and say some shit like, “look at this one, Tony, goddamn it, I want to fuck that bitch!” He’d toss the open skin mag over to me and it would be some hot Euro babe sucking two gorgeous cocks, veiny arched bones slick with her spittle.
Yeah, the babe was hot, but so were the guys’ 8-inch boners! When I jacked off to porn like that, I fantasized about fucking the babe too, but would also fantasize about helping the babe suck the guys’ boners. All Robert and I ever did was joke about the cocks; it was the babes we were supposed to be getting aroused by.
The cock-laced straight porn finally caught me out one night when I pointed out the cognitive dissonance of Hustler, a skin mag for a totally straight male audience showing all these really hot guys with large, lovely erections fucking hot babes. I enthused to Robert that it aroused me seeing big hung cocks with babes. We were a bit drunk.
“You know these hung motherfucking studs are turning me on too…just sayin’,” I added quickly, “I could totally fuck a babe like that with another guy. It’d be like being in a real porno flick.” I instantly regretted sharing that, blushing.
Robert paused, gave me a sideways look and said, “Uh, huh, I thought so.” He knocked back his tall boy and asked me if I wanted another. “Sure.” He brought me a cold one back from his filthy frig. I was thinking: shit, shit, shit.
“Well, wouldn’t you fuck a babe like that in a threesome?” I added, belatedly, a bit sheepishly.
“Tony, can you keep a secret,” he said as he handed me a beer and sat down looking serious.
“Sure,” I said, as I fumbled nervously with the pages of an old Penthouse centerfold that were stuck together with dried…something.
“Look, I don’t want this to get around at school, OK?” His voice lowered conspiratorially.
“OK, sure, my lips are sealed,” I promised. “Scout’s honor.”
“Seriously?” He asked, “Seriously,” I said, wondering what was up.
He got up and went over to a drawer and pulled out a crumpled copy of a mag I’d seen before at the adult bookstore: ‘Texas Swinger’s Monthly.’ He tossed it on the table.
In the age before the Internet, people into kinky shit hooked up via personal ads in magazines like TSM. The magazine had a glossy cover featuring the “Swingers of The Month” but inside every page was newspaper print black and white personal ads with mostly disgusting amateur photos of cocks, cunts, ass and tits.
“Open to page six,” Robert directed… So, I did. There was a small ad circled with a pencil. “Go on, read it,” he said.
“Single, young, clean, super-stud, 9-inch erection, great staying power, huge cumloads, 6′ 2″, blonde, cute. Looking for good-looking, clean couples, single ladies, threesomes, moresomes, older OK, can serve as bull for wife, party-animal, versatile, curious husbands OK to watch or join in. Must be able to entertain. Send good photos.”
Next to the ad was a black and white Polaroid image of a rather thick, clean cut and long erection, slightly over-exposed by the flash.
“Holy fuck, man! You took out a swinger’s ad?” I choked on my beer.
“Yup. And it works too.”
“Well, you’re right poker oyna about ‘must be able to entertain’, you sure as fuck couldn’t bring a pack of hot swingers back to this pigsty, could you?” I commented nonchalantly as I nodded at a roach climbing up the wall.
Robert pulled some Polaroids and letters out of the drawer and tossed them to me. They were invitations that couples had sent him, along with naked photos of the wife and often the husband too, sometimes fucking, sometimes sucking or just spread eagle. It was fucking filthy and so hot. The real fucking deal. As he went through the Polaroids with me he told me about some of his adventures in rather graphic detail.
I was so turned on, I started rubbing my crotch and snorted, “man, this sort shit really turns me on. I could fucking jerk off right now.”
“I feel like jerking off too,” Robert said. “Flop it out, dude. Just don’t cum on my couch!” As if one more stain on that couch could possibly matter. I rubbed my cock through my jeans, but didn’t flop it out, while Robert continued to show me Polaroids of wives he had fucked as the husbands watched, took pictures and joined in. I was gobsmacked.
We had another beer as Robert described the most recent and hottest couple, he was having regular threesomes with. “They love my cock, man… ahem, together like…the both of ’em,” Robert hinted, watching me to see if I was catching his drift. I was indeed.
“Look, here’s the deal,” he tossed me Polaroids of a cute blow-dried brunette with perky tits sucking her husband’s hard-on. “They want me to bring over a friend to join the fun. You know, one for each hole. The wife is a babe, ain’t she? You up for it? The husband is a bit older but in good shape. Only catch is you gotta be game for playing around, you dig?”
“Oh, yeah, I am so game. Dude. You are on!” I gave him a high five.
“Look, I’m not sure you get what I mean. If you want to party with this couple and me, you’re gonna have to be well, how do I say it? Know your place,” Robert said.
“Uh huh, sure. I’ll do anything.” I nodded. Robert just looked at me. “OK,” I added, “What do I got to do?”
“I mean there is kind of a pecking order this couple like. I’m the bull, the husband is the cuck, the hot wife is the hot wife princess and what they want, shall we say, is a versatile boy toy to round out the fun. You get my drift?”
I couldn’t believe Robert was talking to me like this. It was like my fantasy come true.
“You mean I might have to be, what…Oooooh, you mean be…” (cough) “sexually available… or something, for… the husband too?” I asked with a sly grin.
Robert nodded. “Yeah, and the bull too. That’s me. I’m the Bull, OK? The bull is the main man and-“
“OK, fine. I can do that. Who knows? I might like it.”
“Whoa, slow down, Homer, I was gonna say it’s all mainly about the lady, pleasing the wife, making her cum over and over again. But the husband is what they call ‘bi-curious.’ “
“Oh, yeah, I got you, I can do that.” I stammered.
“Well, good then. We’ll be a great fucking team, just like something out of Private.” That was one of our favorite Euro smut magazines.
“Now take your clothes off and get a fucking good boner up for me.” Robert said, getting up and going to the closet.
“Whoa, What?” I was stammering again, “for?”
“I got to take some hot Polaroids of you to show the Smiths (not their real name.) I’m going over there tomorrow to bang the wife while the old man is at work. He’ll probably be listenin’ in on the phone line from work, jacking off in his office, old perv. They’ll want to approve you first. That means neeked photos, bitch.” Robert was loading the Polaroid camera with film.
“Oh, yeah, Oh…Kay, yeah. Sure.” I chugged my beer for a bit of extra fortitude, stood up and started to pull off my jeans. I couldn’t believe I was doing this. I already had a raging boner and I wished I didn’t. I didn’t want to look so fucking eager beaver.
Naked with my cock standing straight up, I said, “OK, here I am,” and did a swishy little pirouette. I felt a bit gay. We both had to laugh.
Robert had me pose masturbating on the couch and on my hands and knees on the filthy carpet, ass in the air. I didn’t dare ask why he wanted pictures of my ass spread. I was so fucking aroused.
Finally, Robert spread the Polaroids of me out on the table and said. “looks good to me, dude. The Smiths will love your tight ass look. You’ll make a good boy-toy. Just what they are looking for.”
I was naked and hot on the couch, my boner had been hard for so long, it kind of hurt. I said, “Goddamn, I ain’t never posed for naked photos before, I just gotta finish jacking off.”
“Fuck canlı poker oyna yeah, go ahead. I’m gonna join you, said Robert. He pulled his jeans and underwear all the way down to below his knees and sat down on the old couch. He patted the crusty cushion, inviting me to scoot right next to him.
I was real excited, “Jesus, that’s a huge fucking cock, Robert. You could be a fucking porno stud for Hustler, man.”
“Yeah, that’s what all my girlfriends say. My daddy was real hung like this too, must run in the family.” He stroked his meat a few times, stretching it out and letting it flop back tense with blood pressure, so I could admire its size. It was a perfect penis, classic foreskin cut, nicely arched, a bit bent to one side due to a lot of masturbation.
“Can I touch it, man?” I was so horny that I didn’t care anymore.
“Hell yeah, you can totally suck me off if you want. Remember I’m the bull. I just I can’t return the favor, ’cause I’m not queer like that. OK?”
I sat down next to him and still I demurred, still in a bit of shock because no way I would have guessed before tonight that Robert, who I had thought was a pretty naïve straight guy, was really a big swinging dick. And now he’s invited me to give him a fucking blow job?
“Are you sure about this, Robert, ’cause we are pretty good friends and I don’t want to, you know, gross you out being a faggot and all…”
He interrupted me by reaching over and stroking my dick. “You’re really hard, boy toy. Just play the role. I been waiting for you to break it to me that you’re a faggot.” I looked surprised, how did he know? My eyes closed in pleasure as he stroked my cock.
Then I protested, “I’m not a faggot.” He smiled, “whatever you say,” and slipped his big hand beneath my balls where his forefinger found my ass crack. My legs kind of automatically opened and he fingered my ass.
“OK, I’m faggot, sort of,” I mumbled. We both laughed.
“Why don’t you slip down on your knees and show me what you can do with that pouty mouth of yours.”
I slide down on the floor like I was melting while Robert lit up a cigarette. I did my best girlie pose for him, ass in the air, as I crawled around on my hands and knees to between his legs. He slowly stroked his erection and drew smoke deep in his lungs as he watched me.
Our whole relationship, just your average party bros an hour ago, was metamorphosing into something entirely different, something as erotic, no, more erotic than the fuck mags strewn around the crummy room. I felt like my smooth, naked, nymph-like body was wriggling out of its cocoon into something beautiful and exotic, not quite male, not quite female.
“I like your ass, man, it’s sexy for a guy,” Robert said, taking a drag on his cigarette. Shameless now, I turned to flash my cheeks open for him. The beers and the whole night were swirling around in my head, more like a wet dream than reality. I felt like a slut. I wanted to be a slut.
“You ever let guys fuck you?” Robert asked nonchalantly.
“Once,” I lied, “but not your fucking monster cock, man! Don’t even think about it.”
Then Robert, slouched down on the couch a bit and put one leg over the couch’s arm so that he was spread wide open. “Come on,” he said, “go down on me and show me how it’s done.”
I got between his thighs on my knees and began to stroke him with both hands while I licked his shaft. He tossed his head back looking at the ceiling and smoked the last of his cigarette, stubbing it out on the dirty floor. I kept licking up and down his shaft, exploring the length of his manhood with my cheek, lips and tongue. He moaned.
“You like that?” I whispered. The voice wasn’t me asking. It was the emergent slut deep down inside me coming out of her cocoon.
“Fuck yeah,” Robert said. Robert was the same. It wasn’t him doing the metamorphosis here.
I took his dickhead in my mouth. He was a big man. His glans filled my mouth. Just to see how far I could take him in, I slip my mouth down over his shaft gently, sucking his penis in until it hit the back of my throat. He was so big and long I wasn’t going to get more than the first 5 or 6 inches of his erection into my mouth. Well, at least not gently, not without gagging.
I have had other big men face fuck me hard before and I knew, in the heat of arousal, I could open my throat and take almost all eight inches of Robert’s meat in a proper banging. I caressed his balls with one hand, slowly jerked him with the other and sucked his glans in and out with my lips. I knew guys loved that. Robert was pulsing hard and every once in a while, he would toss his head back and groan, whispering shit like, “oh, that’s internet casino fucking good, man, you are a fucking great cocksucker.”
Then Robert casually reached for the tray of weed on the beer can cluttered coffee table began to roll a joint all the while watching me suck his cock. “Lick my shaft, man, up and down, yeah, I like that.” He said: “You must have sucked a lot of cock.”
“Yeah, I’ve sucked a few,” I said, I continued to gently stroke him. “How many?”
“Don’t know, maybe two,” I lied. It’s hard to lie or even blush with a big cock in your mouth. I was beyond shame now.
“Liar. Fuck, man, why didn’t you tell me you was queer? You coulda been sucking my dick all semester, dude,” Robert was Robert. Why didn’t I see this in him before?
“I dunno,” I mumbled as I swirling my tongue around his swollen slick dick head, shiny with my spittle.
I stopped giving head for a minute to answer more thoughtfully, furrowing my brow, yet still naked, kneeling before him, his lick-covered boner in my hands: “I guess I’m not really gay, like you know, homosexual guys don’t like pussy. I love pussy! It’s just that I never really developed that normal straight dude homophobia thing-“
“Pfftt, just shut the fuck up and suck, bitch. You’re my girly-boy now. OK?” Robert rolled his eyes.
I bent Robert’s boner over and really sucked him in deep into my mouth. He groaned and tossed his head back.
“You can stroke off while you suck me,” Robert said as finished rolling the joint, he lit it up and took a deep toke while I continued to work him with my mouth as he watched me. He held the joint down to me so that I could take a hit, his boner resting on my cheek as I did. We talked and I sucked while we smoked the joint.
“Can I suck your balls, man? You got fucking huge balls.”
“Fuck yeah,” Robert said, coughing on a toke. “You can lick me where ever you want down there, girlfriend. I am all yours.” We finished the joint and Robert announced, ” OK, honey, now let’s make this rocket cum, copy that Houston?”
I started sucking him with real focus now, working his shaft like a professional working girl might. Changing tires. He tossed his head back and said, “I have to warn you, I haven’t jacked off today, so will shoot a really fat load.”
Coming up for air, I gasped, “you can blow your wad in my mouth, dude.”
I went back to sucking and stroking him. He was groaning and his hips started gyrating. I moved my hand down around his ass crack. I could sense that he liked that. My forefinger found his tight asshole. As I really began to face fuck him his hands pressing my head down into his groin, I began to insert my finger tip into his anus. That made him cum.
He was right about his balls being full of cum. Spasm after spasm of white hot semen shot into my mouth. I pulled his dick out of my mouth so he could paint my face with salty cum while I continued to jack him off with both hands. More white blobs of cum shot out all over me as he took over jacking himself and I held my mouth open, head back, a target to jack his last squirk of spunk towards. I felt just like some porno slut eagerly posing for her money shot in Private magazine.
As he finished up cumming on me I let his semen trickle down out of my mouth and drip on my chest, rubbed his gob on my breasts and pinched my nipples. I used his cum to lube my own cock. Robert collapsed back on the couch in post-ecstatic reverie, panting. I sat back on my knees, legs spread, glistening with his spunk. He watched me as I jerked off naked before him. I came quickly, added my load to his semen my chest.
Robert got up and pulled his pants up. “That was fucking great, Tony. Don’t take it the wrong way, man, but you are a fucking total cock-whore. You know, in a good way.”
“Look, Robert,” I said, as I gathered my clothes and started to come down from my fantasy slut-self to the normal me, “I don’t want to ruin our straight guy buddy thing, OK? We can just totally forget this ever happened, ’cause I don’t want you to think I want to be your faggot boyfriend, or something and hate me.”
Robert lit up another Marlboro then gave the lit cigarette to me. “I was thinking something along those lines, too…But nah.”
Then he lit a smoke up for himself and eyed me dressing with more interest than is…comfortable.
“The truth is you are going to be my cock sucking girly boy from now on. I saw how much you loved it.” He went on, “we’ll just keep it our little secret, huh?”
“OK,” I said sheepishly, zipping up my fly. It was past midnight. I had an early class the next day. My jaw hurt and I reeked of semen. I had to get back to the dorm and shower.
Robert called out as I headed out the door, taste of cum and beer souring in my mouth, “don’t forget about that couple, the Smiths. After they see your Polaroids, we’ll probably be invited to party this weekend. They’re gonna love you.”
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