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MY GYM PARTNER'S BRO: THE TAMING OF THE SCREW

by Eightane

for Charkonian

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When the twosome walk together, they're unflinchable.

Three months in and the student body knew as a collective: if you see 'em traipse down the musty corridors, you let them be who they be. The 6' 2" Will, quarterback for the University's first string, silverback gorilla with a crew cut and arms like barrels, big also betwixt them right down to the ankles. 5' 5" Jerr, his monkey-in-'bating, the slim spidery twink of a dudebro who's randy and up for what's the macho act of the moment. They'd be heard trading jokes, plans for the night's party, more often some ear fuel for if one of them spots a juicy piece of man-ass. Helping each other want. One of those friendships, but hellfire's not as strong as the breed of this they cultivate.

Today started close to the same. "I believe he'll come, we still have the Xbox." Will snickered through ape fangs, mashing one palm with his other hand's knuckles. They discussed a moose dude who only left his dorm for shit to do with a controller.

Jerr had reasons to want him there, though; most had to do with a treasure trail and the parcel buried in it. He raked spindly digits on his 'bro's forearm and grabbed it once, lovelike. "Man if he don't, it'll be cooold classes for him. No more playin' footsie with his double-bulge!" He cackled, but felt an edge of sadness if he had to make good on the threat with the same feet that ambled here next to Will... The ones he'd outstretch when professors weren't looking, trace the shape of how moose dick filled out some jeans AND the big-dang-balls did more of that. This was the 'double', and in truth Jerr had drank it down like anything named the same from a dive bar. He dived, alright.

Behind him, the tail had its own brain it seemed, darting and moving like straw in wind if a tall or thicc or cuter guy moved past, or if any went to pass them. It could put wind to his rust-brown hair peeping from the backwards cap when it locked on. Will's act when derailed by guy candy was direct in deeper ways; just throbs in the mountain of his frontside, and some men walked faster to get away, some just stifled laughs of nervousness. More of them had than hadn't learned the pain and a week's worth of donut pillows. The majority came back for more, and doctors the county over cussed him for procedures done... But then there were always the football fans, who'd let him scramble their hole just so long as he kept putting wins on the schedule, points on the scoreboard. Love him or hate him or love him, you'd have an opinion.

Their frat pals were back at the homeplace, sleeping or drinking, either/or. Today was empty excepting each other. In a stroll tight as any G' before Will got to them, it looked like it would be class, lunch, then back fratside to down some shots, smoke hydro, knock down Mortal Kombat or Bloodborne and fuck 'til they collapsed in jizz and hard breaths, holdin' bods tight and leaving 'awake' to the boring world.

They should have known fate's more unscrupulous than that.

Halfway through the hall toward Spanish 301, their focus met him, and God would it be impossible not to. A lowland gorilla like a giant in the land of normies, fur of red, hairline of deep auburn blonde and styled up like a first-class douche. He cleared Will's height by a full head; if he didn't hit the 7-foot mark, reality had bent itself. He rocked a charcoal tank top, under it a wealth of contour, stealing any show from the loose cargo shorts of olive. There was curve to the titties, he had width there to go with his washboard sixpack and they linked up like a Men's Journal cover. His hand a decent size too, it could hide Jerr's snout and the tongue now dancing on his DSL, even if Will had better span. But that mitt put him to 'social work', leaned up on the lockers. Below that stranger stood a curlhaired raccoon girl, holding books and what looked to be disdain. He had lips flappin' at her. Even a man like Jerr - who cared so little for the fairer sex they're half-invisible to him - caught the cues that she waited for an opening to walk away.

He wanted to say 'Check it' to Will, pointing out the problem. He didn't get to this before his athlete bud choked him by a grope of his rear, strong as a steel press. Will's respectable brain contextualized, while rueing that monkey with pinch, rub, celebrating his pal and their likened craves. "So we have a player in the building. Correct me if I'm dense, but why be this put-out if he hit the right notes?" He watched her fidget, make excuses to go. Moreso, he saw the height of the jerk making moves on her while ignoring signals... The angle of that straight-guy back, postured where the gym-rat build screamed of itself. The legs that held that much height high 'n' steady to leer over her.

Jerr leaned in to Will, half to mutter and half to feel the heat off his pecs. "I tell ya, he might be swole more than you, topside... Don't hate me, chief. Hahahhhngh-" Will cut his bud's artful tease off with a grab of Jerr's whole skinny core. He squeezed that gangly chimpy male 'til the last of air wheezed out Jerr's lungs in a screech-sigh. He knew the guy loved it.

Once he let go, he played with the pal's ear, slow, and spoke hearty while Jerr let himself fall back onto his BFF. "That exists as the only place. And here's a headline: Local fucker proves it." He pinched Jerr's nips through the shirt, and monkeybro muffled it; he already thought to keep this low-profile. Their minds ran like twins often; Will, though, was the only one to craft this future. "Besides... Time for some renovations."

"G-hh-go get 'im, cat!" Jerr spat it out chased by his own snickers and the lust that endured. Will could touch him and he'd ache to get on his bony knees... Now, the silverback left him in-place. Will moved through crowd, filtered past goth and geek and cheer squad, to where the exchange of ringtail chick and wannabe-mack reached hearing levels.

She dismissed the guy on every turn, used to this by her twentieth year. "If my cousin cancels on Saturday, that's a maybe, and I still have to proof the Geography essay. So it's not looking good."

"Aw, that's too bad!" He had 3rd-grade acting skills and a velvet voice, one hell of a bad combo. "Since I can't say the same for you."

Students twenty feet away might think it was an earthquake, but no, just the audible *thud* of that line. Will rolled his green eyes so hard he could see his own grey matter... Two feet back from them, and she saw the QB as she faced him and the strike-out king there didn't. But she also knew the ways of Will's rep' better than that freshman, so she demonstrated real acting talent, holding back the smile. Happy, renewed inside, she tacked on a "Tootles, mark!" and weaved under the arm he kept braced on the lockers.

He watched her leave, barely sighting the dark-furred train of muscle to the side that didn't move. He yelled back "My name's Wallace, not Mark!", having no sense of why she'd forget in the same chat. Even less clued-in that she didn't call him that as a name, but a noun. Things she well understood.

Will boomed in a voice about the same pitch as this tall lug's natural. "It's obvious now, but she was all over you like fruit flies on a steak."

Tall-as-fuck Wallace started to mug with pride for half-a-second, but it deflated on a single thought. At least he wasn't dumb, one point for him. "Funny. You think you'd do better?" He leaned down, getting on Will's level with eyes wide and taunting. Then he paused, and shifted gears again. "... Wait, you're on the team here... Will! That's right!"

"Good gumshoeing." He saw the guy reach out to shake hands; when Will did the same, shook with warm strength and just a touch-more girth in the grabbers, the world moved. He was expert at sizing up without ever moving his gaze too low; but he peeped out already what lay down there. His plot moved right along with the realest smirk. "You're a fan I take it."

Wallace let it out but never sacrificed ego. "I like good college ball, yo. It don't make a fuck who's running it, but I've heard good things about you." He did one solitary nod, the simplest 'respect' he could lob Will's way. "Hey d'you know her?... You ain't dippin' in that, are ya?"

Will had far too much control to bust out laughing. "Can't say yes and be honest. I play the field but her type's not on it."

"Heh. That's cool, it's all good. More for me." He dropped his decibels, trying a bit harder now to suave it up, not be a dork in front of the star of the turf. "I got her kind in my scope since junior high, but they're tough to crack. Bad bitches when you do, though. Ask my girl back in the next county... Naw, don't." He chuckled after this. Smug about the confession and the joke he was so sure it qualified to be... All it did was tell Will the homewrecker in front of him.

But the darker silverback didn't judge. How could he. While Wallace looked past, tried to wave with 'smooth' gesture to the girl receding down the hall, Will confirmed all he'd seen already from the corner of peripheral. The monster awakened. "If I can swear to one thing, it's that you won't snag her today. But there's other fish with her stripes, and we just might find a full-on school. I tell you what, meet me out back after Spanish lets out, we'll shoot dice. And I'll let you in on shit that's helpful."

"You sayin' I need that?" Wallace crossed arms and leaned back on the lockers, bending the metal to a crimp. Not dismissive, posing.

Will tipped his chin up, and black stubble faced the freshman. "I'm saying you want that." He never had to doubt it would be taken as promising advice. He hardly had to try with half these goofballs.

But the taller male thought, saw the wisdom this QB put off... And even checked up on the brawn, a chest cleave that could open Coors bottles, and figured a guy this cut would be expert at pulling tail. And, well, a good friendly dice game never hurt.

He chucked Will in the abs; they had some paunch over them but didn't wobble an atom. "You're on. 3 PM, out behind the quad."

The silverback smiled. Choppers like a true hunter's shone out; they were the same ones that parted to roar when he'd fill Jerr with loads, plus the thousand others they shared OR he prowled on alone. He and Wallace dapped; he went away and soon adjusted himself, a two-minute job for such mass.

.... Shadows went long behind the main building, pitched by the clock's strike of 3. On the concrete were Will's Reeboks, seldom late. He sniffed once, contented himself with Jerr's headbump two minutes ago when the li'l orange dude informed that he'd be helping at the frat pad, one of their cronies broke the kitchen light; not every dude was handy. Jerr's parting shot of encouragement showed he hates to miss this, but life throws more fastballs than average ones. Will pictured once more the nakedness of his chimp, before serious-time... The bushes by the building's edge rustled. Wallace popped out of them, cleaved them into reverse-mohawk. Will contained a smirk and moved to the center; so many decorative planted trees, and no close parking lot, meant they'd have time to their devices.

"Legs like a giraffe's and you're nevertheless tardy." Will turned his intellect up, to which Wallace flipped the double-bird, clacked his hands together, moved them slow apart while he stood single-footedly, one hell of an art-of-the-crane. Will made a played-up gag noise but he was getting to like this stupid fuck.

Wallace's Air Jordans bulged under his foot's berth; it both impressed his partner in crime and showed he didn't know how to try shit on before he bought it. "Coulda picked a place outta the wind, man. It's November if you ain't heard." He didn't do what tempted him and raise his arms to rub self warm... Gotta be a man.Will internally felt hotter when the giant's nipples poked on his shirt, stretching it with beef's help.

"I'll let you leave and grab a shawl, pussycat. I just thought you're badass." Will scraped his hand through his 5 o' clock shadow, playing the guy's mind like a fiddle.

The balking Wallace did, pure-textbook. "Shhhhut up, short stack! Let's see how you manage luck." He hunkered down, elbow-to knee, and Will dove in his jeans pocket, Played a little 'pool' while he fished out the dice, thinking laterally from what this sucker in front just spoke. The two worn-down cubes came out knocking in his fist; there lay room to hit on each other. Wallace poked out his lower lip, such a lowland thing to do when psyching Will out. Trying to, anyway. "What's the game 'n' the stakes?"

Will clicked his tongue. "First to thirty, best of three. So your strawfingers need to come up with ninety. And I'll let you pick the pot."

One grunt from the redhaired 'rilla, sweeping the knee non-grounded. "My fingers ain't got the size, it's elsewhere. Tell you what, I gotta get new socks, they keep clearin' out the gym around me. Make it a $20 gift card for Target."

This worked just fine for starters. "Swell choice." Will's jade eyes received no droop from in the tight top on Wall', so every ounce of bulge upstairs he did earn. So what if it wasn't natural like Will's own. With unwrinkled dimples, young hung 'n' full of cum, Will got comfy with the skirtchaser, shook the dice to prep a first roll. "Can I call you Wall? I like bunching up my meals while I devour."

Such a left-field comment, but the tall bloke wouldn't let it catch him daft. "Sure, dude, if gettin' shut out by less letters feels better. Guess you go first."

"It's my pair." Will retorted sans even a thought. In his element, one of many.

"That it is." Wallace made a spellbound face, darted his head up and sidewise, a hummingbird's motion just to fuck around. "Will 'n' Wall..." He didn't even hear himself say.

The QB sure did. With a flick of the wrist, out poured the dice. Ten.

Discontentment. "Damn, not a bad start." Wall put up a facade, he wouldn't show how he depended on better. His poker-face lasted through him scooping up the dice, rolling the square tokens. They were sizzling warm; his foe here had a body temp alright. Will stared him down, it was so easy to excuse as mental warfare. All the while he was internalized; Will didn't have to ask to know what lay hidden, but for certain he knew how to get there. The beanpole-simian made small talk. "So you earn your keep huntin' for gash, huh? What's your angle?"

Wallace took a breath, held it in, let the dice fly. He flexed with disappointment. Three.

"Heheh. Happens to all of us." Will coyly jabbed. "But your answer: lead with the best. And don't turn down opportunity. Let's see... Oh right, nearly forgot. Try to be hot." Now was a good time to pretend his nuts itched. Down to the ground with one hand, to his sack with the other, scratching. They still swayed when he had the cubes at throw-pose again.

Wallace went to another world for two seconds, no more; snapping out of it, he had posturing renewed. "Drop the damn things, shrimp."

Will did, but his words continued; now one of the dice tumbled lots and nearly balanced on a corner, so he had the time. "You corner the fair sex, eh? That works how well?"

"No complaints." He kind of ignored the nine he saw come out of this turn. "I don't see a girl hooked to your butt in the hall, so." He stopped the sentence there. It was thought by him that picking up and rolling quick would spur lady luck. When they quit rolling, his met Will's last. Another nine. "Might be that you can't give pointers after all."

The footballer counted out. "19 and 12. You have miles to go before you creep." Robert Frost would be proud of such a sendup, maybe. Wall' sure as fuck wasn't gladder to hear it. Will picked them up one at a time, then let go the same way, keeping varied. Wallace felt warm now... Either he got used to the chill or he was sweating at the hairline.

Fucking eleven.

The concrete took Wallace's rage, his knuckles left cracks. Three rolls and he already lost Round 1. Will didn't say a word; he let his thinned gaze speak it all. Wallace wanted to hand out a punch and straighten that smirk, but they were grown-ass men. He stayed loose, there were two more times to reach that, and he could rebound easy from a bum run like that. They cracked joints in the hands, both in unison by chance. This amused Wall to where he shed consternation. "Wuss's luck. Now you'll see easy money in action."

"Go hard with it then." Will taunted, smooth as chilled silk. But he also wasn't done with a topic. "I'm happy you've a method for trolling. And a backup after that raccoon." He heard a growl, but attention went to the dice. He didn't cheat, he didn't have to. Years taught him how to guide it somewhat... And the rest was him blessed. Turn one of round two, they plopped out his hand on the now-fractured paver. Eight.

Wallace jostled, teeth out. "Hahaaaa, losin' the edge!" He didn't waste a moment. Snatched the dice, let them fall. Ten.

While Will picked them up, lowland-boy Wallace stretched his arms, locked them on back of his head. Acting casual, cocksure. Will saw with ease the trove of hair in those pits. He bit his lip, took on critical swell, but an expert like him could hide a bulge like a shoplifter. And he got to work tossing down. Wallace waited for a four, a two, as he figured he'd see from Will's second try. Instead he found a twelve.

Will had the richest guffaw plus no cause to cloak that. "MotherFUCKer!! " groused Wallace, shaking just a bit when a breeze came up. He rubbed his temple, not far from distraught. It was a while since catching this bad a string of odds. "No foul, I'm still in this." He picked up the dice, but lost hold of one, a bit flushed in the face. "And yeah I have a backup, they ALL want a piece o' this." He lifted his shirt and beat on the core, truly an ape move. Not an atom of wobble, so defined around tender pink ovals. Will had more throb at his inseam than his cock-monkey put there by noon every day, and by God did that say something.

Time and his strats advanced. Will blew on the dice through a hole in his fist, for mere show. The job was in the huge hand, and down went the dice. Another nine.

The 7-footer looked fit to be tied. Mouthing silently the words 'Fuckin' crazy', he swept the cubes up and deposited right on the split his anger'd made. Just a five.

He wanted to call a time-out, inspect each die. But he'd been around the block; a curved or 'off' die was no hard job to spot. The shit was kosher. Now it was 20 and 15. The next go for each man, fast and clownless, Will made off with a seven, Wall a nine. It entered turn four with the straightass trailing three, 27 v. 24. Will let his leg swing, pivot on wide toes. "How about the hookup tips, still open?"

"I'll thank you to stay out my love life, bruh." Wallace griefed more with his own nerves than any honest slight. It's not like he didn't jab at his guy friends for swing-and-a-miss dating. This was of import, here and now... Ego slipped away. He clung onto it and tried gaslighting Will. "Do your throw, unless you want me knowin' your tiny dick's got the best of you."

This turn was better than the athlete even hoped for. His nipples, creamy-dark in the jersey, went erect; it wasn't the outside temps. He obeyed the call to toss... While from his gumline, the clincher he dictated. "You care about my snake, and not snake-eyes? Only one of those gives you any shot." In the literal it was clear what he meant... Shots, however, filled his mind. Talking steady now his outward hints. When the dice quit moving, they sealed it. A six, and round 2 clinched by Will.

The screamed burst from Wallace put his ape incisors to a killer's arc. He didn't lunge, didn't go for Will's throat like he SO highly wished. Just a man's verve in his species' traits. Will chuckled and it vibed his chest girth; Wallace could never notice noise of arousal now. Doing a round 3 won't matter, he'd still have lost. Almost as quick as it could happen.

Will put his right arm straight; going to shake on it. "You tried, I'll give you that. And no hard feelings with the lady jokes. I'm sure you'll get a side dish rounded up." He had tone control. When Wallace heard the ending phrase, it drenched in a loaded lilt. Will sent the message plain as cold autumn day, he sank no faith in the non-player's snatch game. Not a smidge.

"That tears it. You wanna know some shit?" Wall stood his tight rear up, put a pointer finger right in Will's face, close enough to feel breaths. "I think your only luck's here. Any chief who talks the trash YOU do, he's compensating." Wallace fluffed out pecs like he was trying for the team Will headed. Looking down on a brown crew-cut, flat top and a flat lack of panic from the quarterback... He feared nothing his own self.

Will kept solid. He lay a hand over his legsplit; the only way to hide it now. The worst reigning-in was soon to pass. "What are you after, then."

The dip from Wall went like a vulture's, and both dice went in his hand. "We play the Round 3, fuck a 20-spot. You win, I slap down 40 and it's yours. You lose..." He stifled laughs, but that worked less than well when they were forced to begin with. "... And we see who's the real man. You whip that pecker out. Compare against me." The showout felt alleviating. He couldn't stop himself ramping it up. "And since you ain't gon' win, I'll throw in a handy." He hurled his neck around, smited Will with the finest guy-grace. "Won't feel weird tuggin' your two-finger minnow. It'd have to be a real tool to be gay."

He groped himself like MJ. It meant to have his hang 'pop' more. What Will saw - and what his background, who he laid with, gave him in skilled sight - bore the harshest trial Will had all day, not sticking tongue out to slide across his chops. All he said was "You're on." The dominoes would fall.

Wall's huffing died down with the feel he steered this better now. "I throw first." And that he did, coming out the other side with ten. Respectable.

The slow reach of Will belied a calm still developing, not unlike other things. He obtained the dice, let them go, got himself a two.

Wallace grinned wider than his adversary saw up to now. He did turn-dos, it was seven.

The pigskin player acted serious, however gleeful below skin-deep. He tossed and it came to eight again.

The redder man seized dice as soon as they saw that, and went for his third. A twelve, and nothing ever looked so good to him.

"29, BABY!" He cheered for himself, and got up in Will's nose space with his. Will smelled the Cheetos of his lunch; Wallace didn't know the smell of a man shooting jizz in his own mouth so Will's brunch eluded perception. Will's non-hider hand lay low, lazy. It would be the one to throw his last. To open doors. He let it take the dice, and set them on a spin-throw. Out of this came an eight.

Wallace kept the ribbing at max. "Awww dude, not bad but if it only mattered!" His next turn would win, no guy could roll a zero.

Just as a spritz of rain started from high clouds, Wall gave his last turn the lightest effort. A four. Final tally, 33, 18.

"Say my NAME, cuuuuzz!" The lowlander pumped his fist, kissed the ball of his palm, 'polished' his chest over the tank. Will couldn't get a word in edgewise, for now... He didn't need to besides. "You won the battles, lost the war" throttled Wallace, narcissism's image. Will already set to looking around, checking for authorities in case. He stood up, face unmoved, eyes piercing. Nose and lips level as a carpenter's tool.

Wallace reached down first. Fabric rustled. "Dig and find it, boy. Let's see what you ain't got."

Will set both hands at his zipper. He was free to look now, watch the dice-winner open the flaps. He figured Wallace would think of what's good to him, the femmes he'd bagged, hetero porn and skin mags. Inflate junior so it came out the fullest. All the better, since sneaking ogles the whole time, and anticipating, the two in twain, had his ready too.

Out flew Wall's tubular prize through boxers, standing out his cargos. Tight-cut seven with some vein roads here and there, one passing the line of a scar bent down on both sides, highest at center. It saw a man before it, so no pulses, but Wallace grinned. "Long missile, more than most. Go on 'n' weep, Dinky Kong. You won't hear it, I'm 'bout'a laugh over yours in part o' my grip." He didn't need girth to come out happy, for two whole seconds. Two total seconds he could gloat, show off, feel confirmed.

Then Will's hand yanked his out; struggling to free it. When it finally lost hold on the tight blue denim, there it was.

Wallace froze. His heart sank like a boulder.

Inch one-through-eight-point-five shined like a jewel; also snipped, and polished all day every day, so well. Fat as the bastard's wrist, which itself outdid plenty. Vessels like arteries, they were everywhere. Pumping. The head, it was just... SO fucking large. Implausible, in a fellow 'rilla's mind that started breaking. Will put a mere thumb on its topside base. Set full strength in pushing it down. It took that much to fight the wood; and it bounced. Far. Then he took off his hand. Stood plain, and let the muscle in it jump its own weight. Like it nodded. As though, while Will moved a foot closer, got the distance of their cocks down to zilch, it signaled to Wall's lesser dick who rightly won the day.

"You're right." Will let on, to a speechless Wall. "Games shouldn't end so soon." He let the very end, the slithole, push the redfur's. There was a twitch he could feel right through tips; he knew where the hetero's mind went. And where Will won the day extended all the way to bush; out his jeans' XYZ the chocolate curls exploded, a blazing brown fire in puff. The red of Wall's stuck flat on his skin, hot by clammy awe... Respectable but falling short, just like what sprouted out.

Wallace couldn't put a thought to the other man's ears. But Will sure could. "Yeah, it's real. You can lay a hand on if you don't believe. Wasn't my idea."

Now the stricken straight ape could unlock doors to words. "I... Thought it was a cup... Like you left practice..."

"Not so. And got it, you had to check out the competitor. Good man." Will set a sound so unique on that last part... Respect, but cloying, cool but urging.

The wall that was Wall didn't budge. Frazzled but coming back to his senses with sour edge. "Yeah, you want a fuckin' cookie or something?" He balked, while unable to look back to it again, red in the T-zone. "It ain't that much anyway."

Will squinted, holding back the grandaddy of laughing fits. Wallace mistook this for a slam on his own, swinging free, curiously still at full-mast. "Hey it ain't small, so cut the bullshit!" He had gloom in his voice, while finding courage to look down again. And once he did, it was easier. And easier.

The shorter, thiccer guy cooled the air with logic... Will warmed the four heads they amounted to. "You're right, it's not. You'd impress the puny or median stock out there. So you get it, if I'm seeing mine as even more by proxy." Will reached down, ran his grip base-to-endpoint, at the speed of molasses. It took a while. His enemy-in-dicerolls started losing the talent to act. Eyes stayed on Will, right through when he slid the knuckle bends over vein, scar, the ridge of head's blossom. It had everything, straight to the tip of such perfect bell.

Wallace let words dribble out of his lips, fainter now. "So what, you got me... Good game... Good gains, there... But it means jack shit..."

"Oh, I won't disagree." Will snarked, grabbing up a sprig of his healthy bush; the hammer stood higher. Wall' got a glimpse of the raised point beneath, a urethra that Sharpies can't outgirth. This hit Wallace proverbially in the gut; no end to the team captain's assets. Will said his next piece in pure humblebrag. "Mostly makes my stream like a horse's. Or all the batter it shoots, twice the flow."

The wrists on Wallace were sweating now. "That's... Wild..." Half of him knew he was supposed to think the dude exhausted his cum quick. But a louder half of his grey matter laid it out for him; on a canvas inside, it put out images of Will going off in a slut, and filling her like a hose. The roughhouser pounding it in, all up in that hole, setting off a quart a minute like mortars, fireworks... Wallace patted his neck, thought it was the rain. He didn't shut his mouth between phrases anymore. "Guess that's what you... Gotta, uhhh, put up with..."

Will continued playing him like a fiddle, petting his own meat, finding new ways every moment to brag with it through touch and nothing else. The flap that lay wide from its root to a pair of tennis balls, it poured up and down the zipper's window. It didn't need to be seen to be believed. "True that. I'm glad they always come back for more." Tender light in his tone could no longer tip Wallace off to the manipulating. He'd broke through facades and defenses. Wallace could no more look or turn away now than he could stop his own dick jumping; a need. Neither one was pent-up yet their sensitive lengths felt otherwise. Will's most of all, being most of all. And his devious way struck while the iron's hot. The directions came. "I thought I said you could feel on it, brother. It's your bet anyway. It won't bite."

Even had Wallace the mind to parse out orders, he didn't care it was commanded, wanted. He had to do it, thanks to pride and laying stakes ahead of his mind. 'Just get it over with', he thought. That hand with wispy auburn strands reached beyond Wall's own cock, which now got to coursing hard with flow. Will's had the strongest everything he'd yet seen; years of porn where the biggest baddest studs slayed pussy were stamped down by the QB right up on him. The grip Wall gave on that monster put his mouth open; a true dropped jaw, and Will hummed nice as it worked. "Oooo-ook. Clutch power. You drive stick." He meant cars with manual-shift. Overtly.

"A m-mmMustang..." Wallace breathed off-rhythm. He spasmed in the meat, and this other 'rilla's pole made the sole stimulant. Will freely laid a hand on his shoulder, fearing no reprise. He squeezed. This, with the palming, was the killing blow; Wall had felt out a man shorter than him while bigger in grand ways. Butch as damn hell. What he moved his fingers down - rubbing, of his own choice - was a bitch-crafter. It remade who it fucked to a slave for it.

Will talked and it went more like hypnotism; never had to be. "Should let me take a spin in that. You're keen I handle power, if I steer this. Or just keep that hand going. Get this heavy fucker off. I'll show you how it wrecks those ho's..." He was pro at closing in; every minute, an ear's length nearer. Wall could smell the sweat down there, so palpable. The aftershave Will splashed. Football's finest member who whispered now, yet with a punch in syllables. "You wanna go back to this, gawk tomorrow at the alpha? Record it. Get your phone, boy... Better yet, take mine." Will's push into his pocket with too much fist was such a fluid go, it missed Wall's sight. The bigger and better of the two held one final card: "I swear it ain't ending up other places. Why lie, you're playing it through. Stroke."

A lie it was, and the sweetest one. Will planned before the first tug, that which Wall shivered at, which porn site gets it uploaded first. Wallace sank on his knees, half in settling at the best height to work it, half in failing strength by his state, stupified. Deeply he knew, if this gets video'd, there's at least a facsimile of the deed, his woman-geared hand on another man's...

He hesitated. The arm quit, and he wished to let go of the grip. It was too much, he decided... This friendly wager took him somewhere FAR removed from the self he inherently was. And yet... Four fingers and a thumb he couldn't unfurl. Could not do it, put simply. And though this was him lying, he told himself in hushed mutters: "It's not my fault... I never thought it'd be..."

Will's hold was uncommonly strong, it had kept balls back from a defense who ran in cleats and rushed with all their brute heft. Sliding down from the shoulder, guiding on the sturdy back on Wallace. Lats like dinner plates. He pulled with mahogany digits and brought this 'winner' the closest yet. Wall was still half-crouched, but legs with vitality stood him stable. And he started again, the careful tugs of a huge tool. Never unaware of the thump inside it. Pumb. Pumb. Pumb. Wallace felt tense in some ways, but in others relaxed... As he let go of tension behind him, Will held up an iPhone in half his free palm; it took up no more of the space.

In a waking daze, Wallace worked that nightstick and heard the digital beep of hitting record. Sweat beaded his preppy hair... It reached somewhere else, behind him, in canyons of crack. 'Fuck', he thought, 'My ass is wet... Why...' Meantime his biceps got exercise, moving slow yanks to the end of a reacher. Will's hand no longer held his own phone, so it got up under his shirttail. Found his own chest. Tweaked the firm nipple, pinched an oval of black, rolled with it the fine hairs thicker there than up his neck's width. Wallace hummed and didn't know he did. His redman-rod still stood out the open fly, and tapped Will's largeness every time the muscles fired. Soon his outer grip felt damp. Sticky. He'd struck clear, copious gold and the pre came in rivulets.

"Mmmmfhhh..." Will salivated, finding a true natural. Brash ooks drifted through Wall's ears. Most of them had a thrust carried out. Each time they did, the tall dude gasped. This was stroking a baseball bat. Only one whose life and top-prowess hooked him like a tether. The counter passed 0:59... Will had hips going smooth, his new 'bro' sailed a mitt on those bounding seas. Wall had way too much tenure owning a dick himself, he couldn't fail to see when it headed for climax. But the greed in Will's motion impressed on him... Got him working it harder. His eyes glossed over as they stared straight on hugeness building pressure. Will's heartthumps in his meat were as hits to a punching bag from inside. The QB huffed, groaned in sounds that boasted without one whole word. Wall had first loosened at backside, but now it scrunched up... Instinct when in front of this much might, this greater man, sheer force of topping... He held his breath, drowned in Will's pleasure, found his own like he'd never... Never even thought he'd...

"F-FFFUUUUUCKYEHHH!"

Soon it was Wall's time to cuss... The explosion of bass put him outside a trance at last, so he let up stroking; he figured it would cool the hot streaks, let them drop below the two. Gloriously mistaken. Will pitched ropes handsfree. Ending the handjob didn't cull their numbers. Wallace went riled by two ropes smacking his chin and cheek. Lines of white on a squareass jaw, a ruddy snout. His arm worked independent... He could swear at the fucker painting him up, but couldn't bear to let go.

And his rage died down when Will's bliss didn't. He retold a comforting fib. "...Not my fault..." Wall felt dizzy, and in clutching his pecs smeared them up with hot seed. He'd NEVER seen a guy in triple-X vids send this much load without it buried in hole. Goosebumps moved head-to-ankles when it slung on him from a nearly-9 with easy trigger. The camera got it all; shot after shot, sometimes from above the cumming spear, some moments straight-on slithole with electric eye filming the gush. Real-time release from angle after angle. Never steady nor still. Wallace could thank his own tottering hand, quaking with arousal. Fear. Respect. All things bound to each other, and from the stew rose... Peace. A kind never within him up to now.

Will was master. Slow to end his shooting, nor his soothing notes of peak that gurgled in a throat with mass. What went quicker was Wall's stoop down to clean his sneakers; wipe them with leaves from the ground. On doing this he smelled the tubesteak so near his face; quickest move of all, his sniff with all the force two lungs could give. Right up on beercan skin.

He didn't know why he had to let it happen. Just that he did.

His walk home that night had a stake tucked behind the belt.

... Wallace had forgot all the while he liked pussy. In fact the next class on the following morning, he forgot to text Heather, and he knew his main mare took it personal. So he sat slumped and glib in Applied Chem 101, wrinkles ransacking his collared school shirt, hid behind the Kodiak bear in front so their professor didn't see him scroll down his Samsung, its messages. She'd be alright, on that he had faith. Bring her a flower and a veggie burger, she'd be like 'What fight?'. So the droning of instructor and lesson plan went in one ear and died before it got to the other.

But what he remembered... It had guile and placed his brain in headlock. Even now, Will's status with that fucker he toted... The way it parted white briefs inside the jeans, and he couldn't fathom how they didn't rip. The absolute power, what filled his hand and he rued. How he'd switch up holds and it responded every time, extra pulses or Will's bod in chill throes of joy and supremity. He squirmed in his seat now... Firecolour abs were moistened.

He doubted not that he could keep a lid on it. This too would pass, maybe a one-day phase. It would sure fizzle next time he met up with a new girl, or found time for Heather and plowed that filly into sweet, mournful coo...

Then he saw the monkeytail, and swishes.

He knew that chimp palled around with Will; seeing them high-five and walk their separate ways was one of the few sights of the other ape in that hall before... Everything, yesterday. So he tried to shift mind back to study teachings, but in the peripheral... The same kind of squirm. And Jerr hid his phone with the book open spine-out to their lecturer.

Curiosity and sharp eyes showed him what played on it, with the sound turned off. His pupils started normal and went narrow in two blinks.

In front of him, a big bear shifted his weight, and like a spy concealing evidence, moved a Droid Moto Z in a fat paw to behind and below. Making like he scratched his keister, while tucking the device in-pocket. He didn't close what it played, also. It didn't have sound unmuted, either.

Wallace stopped breathing five seconds. His hand looked diff on a screen, alright. And Will's cock couldn't look small, no matter the constraints of 3x5-inch display.

Again, he felt less than dry where he sat right now. And next to him Jerr, the most observant guy where other dudes are included, hit him up with a mumble. "Will said he had a blast, dawg... Didn't say w' who. Sorta thought you two picked up a chick together." Jerr assumed no such thing; he had an inkling that the slightest good deed - Will's refusal to stag-brag - sopped up any bad vibes. He didn't have to help, but he loved to. Leaned ever so slightly to Wallace, the spidermunk tilted head back with a G's wiles. "Yerr pretty a'ight. Wanna head out for brews tonight? Whole gang's steppin' in, the bar be hoppin' with Syracuse fans, we'll get turnt!" He danced with his tongue on word after word.

Wall had fixations to try and shake... Wearing beer goggles might be just the ticket. And if Will was there, maybe counterintuitive but just as much chance to talk sports or shoot the shit, AKA make a friendship like normal. Part of him wanted that, part of him yearned to be shitfaced. And as for the last motive, he could go in the bathroom and jerk off if it went south again. Three reasons pushing him.

Well, a fourth. He won't be the laughingstock of State U, if that's what the bear OR Jerr thought they'd get outta the bet and squandering his energy.

He muttered back to Jerr. "Tell Will he's buyin' first round. He is goin' pro, right?"

The workday resumed and they navigated books, quizzes, being 'volunteered' by a teaching control freak... All common hurts for the learning caste. No one was singled out, and no problems reared their ugly head, which was not a constant with young adults. When the time came to cut out - for Wallace, to head home and change into sleeveless tee - the monkey stuck his hand up and they rapped knuckles. Wall walked fast today, so the odd wetness that transferred to his fingerbacks left in a flash.

He found Heather and made good on the penance and apology. She showered him with neutral thoughts, about her lunch, the asshole ferret who put her on the spot at work, her galpal who did the stupidest thing with her dry-clean blouse. Time dragged on until opening time for the tavern.

She had hang-ups about booze only when it came to herself; thus he went alone and revved up to get tipsy, all the half-mile it took to reach there on foot. A screen door hung there, a bouncer next to it taking a microbreak. Wallace sifted through a standing-room-only crowd, hairy faces littering the corner bar. Smoke filled the air, tobacco and some less-legal brethren. At his height he could spot anyone by the head they showed; Will's hyrbid crew-flattop 'do clued him in fast as fuck. When he reached the counter astride the quarterback, his ears rang with shouts; on the TVs a score had taken place.

By extreme good luck he caught the bartender with a hand-raise and ordered two Guinness. Will chucked him on the meatiest part of his back, and he turned to engage. "What's good, bossman? You ain't out there yourself?" He elbowed Will's ribs; the solidity struck back with bounce.

Will shook his head, only a hair off-kilter after seven shots. "It's bye-week. If it hadn't been before, there was convincing done." His wink he put toward the monkey at his right leg, wound around him like a serpent. The tall-and-red hadn't popped a top on his beers, so this sight and the questions swirling over Will's admission put tingles in the collar.

He took the plunge and opened the pull-tab, downing a third of it in a few gulps; big mouths made it a breeze. From somewhere below he heard a squeaky cheer. He started understanding Jerr's ways, from the moment of this to when Will reached to scratch his balls and the act got taken over for him. While most of the boys got raucous from another TD on the flatscreens, he didn't. In the pit of his gut, a familiar urge, turning him green. The beers hit him just fine, no nausea. It was... Jealousy...

He reached out and fucked with Will's ear, making small talk. "I didn't see that bandit girl again. Guess she's one of those one-class-a-week types, maybe works a job somewhere."

Will showed genuine interest; no way to tell if it was the message or the speaker. "She had the industrious look, full-tilt. You'll get another shot." He swung around, put his giant arm in front of Wallace as he took two miniglasses from the bar. "Here, have one right now."

"Haha, can do!" The enthusiasm dripped, and a seven-foot gingerilla took the shot from Will's two-finger hold. Wall used three to hold, and saw the dark jade beverage within; these fuckers drank Jager. Thinking 'hell yeah' he turned it up, and found it simultaneous with Will. He breathed out after swallowing, clearing his lungs; Will just let it burn.

The football soldier talked through clouded eyes; Will's control stood so enduring. "I saw you kick that Mustang into third by the circle-road at the dorms. You keep it near-mint, I heard no grinding."

"Pffft, thanks. Priorities, man, and babyin' the gears takes talent, and..." He stopped a minute, as something was grinding; Jerr's little drunkassed tail made its way up every low bulge on Will's front and back. "... A year gettin' a feel for it. Hey, uh, I'll be back, got a peanut husk in my teeth from before I got here." He waved, a bit on the dorky side, distracted. As he cut through the crowd, he heard rustling, then a smooch; it made no sense how his ears got so accurate while fanatic hoopla poured over all.

The restroom door hit the wall when he shoved it; up to the sink and mirror he rushed. There was no food stuck anywhere, just a minute with his thoughts. And reaching down to fiddle with the rise; it didn't quit, but he figured, Jager's Jager. He'd seen how chicks got when he bought 'em enough Hpnotiq, he would call this the version for the stronger sex. Not that he wasn't aware of other things... He called Jerr a few unmentionables, a bit of deep-buried wishing took place. But denial's powerful. He looked himsefl up and down; adjusted the collar, smoothed the hair, took his own fist and raked it in slo-mo by his cheekbones, then mimed falling backwards just as slow. Laughing off a dumb joke, then he stomped out the door. No one had been there, which also served peace of mind.

Out at the bar again, and every eye was peeled on the monitors. A score within two points, half a minute left on the 4th quarter, 2nd down for the possessors who trailed those same two points. Eight yards to the endzone... Will held his shotglass, another full one, and killed it after a whistleblow. A lot of "FUCK"s and "What the"s after flag was called. Wallace found gaps to squeeze back in by Jerr, who stood in front of Will's legs, absorbed in havoc onscreen. One or two shoves happened on the field, but no fight erupted. Wall' laughed just like half the guys there, and the shortstack monkey lost it, booze in his blood making everything funnier. He fell back on Will's gut, and was held up by abs over a paunch. Wallace bit his lip.

They carried on into the night; the challengers lost possession, but with a conversion worth 2 points it went into overtime. Wallace wound up leaning like a tower in Italy, he'd bought just as many Jagerbombs as the QB bought for him. The one-and-two-thirds beers stayed just where they were. Tantamount to the last play in the game, Jerr scrambled up his core, lay on him like a backpack. He was too soused to hate it though the chimp had tinted the mood... And he couldn't resent the guy, being why the hump in his nutbasket lost nothing to whiskeydick. Dim lights, smoke and every man looking up saved his shameful discovery. Will was the only one to brush up on it. More than once.

Once safe at home, it took five blasts to calm his sausage. Not since teen years had it held him to that many.

Sleep barely hooked him in for a four-hour recharge. Next thing he knew his alarm blared straight in his ear, fueled the migraine and brought back to him the clatter of a hundred sports junkies. He staggered into class with a chip on his shoulder, but this room behaved to where no one fucked with him. Another day in the dullard's hell at Applied Chem. Pins and needles in his head, unrest in his stomach. He paid a price for the party, but regretted not a goddamn thing. Two most vivid memories were the gamewinning field goal, and Will's grin across the stubble-prairie... He had to force forgetting, after one time dwelling on it kept him seated worse than yesterday.

The bear was out today; in front of him was a slender marmot, so no luck with checking his phone. He'd drunktexted Heather though, and that morning he confirmed it wasn't so garbled as to hurt more than help. He'd come by her job this time and sweep away the drama... Maybe pummel a ferret just to prove he listened. For now, he strained to look ahead, watch the blackboard and the teacher's work. But either it was his headache, or the noise to his right that made it worse... He couldn't set his mind to academics. He at least had to look over, find out the sound's source and nature...

... He got more than he bargained for. A skink dude with punk hair had his legs up on the desk's metal stand, safe by the rhino girl in front of him. He had the 'umbra' guarding from a teacher that Wall didn't, and his tablet had full video going. Wallace gasped. It couldn't be... Not again... But lo and behold, there his hand lay in pixel form, and the very wand he struggled to forget. On a big display. And the strawlike lizard had it up in one hand. His other, reaching in his trousers... Rustling so quiet. Wallace glanced back behind him half a second. He didn't dare draw more attention. But to the rear of that stroking herp, a leapord guy with a goatee, and eyes just as distracted, and a barbed tongue that drove right across his lips. On the tablet, there was text sized enough to read, as follows:

"Dice Got Nice". Will had jotted text to expand on that title. "Alphas don't bargain. Remember that next time you challenge one." Wallace felt warm through his whole body, uncomfy to the limit. The skink was a curious type... After the runtime wound out, past the red arm getting slogged by jizz thick as cord, past where he growled over Will's matting all the fur and steaming it up, past the final frames where Wall's horny self tilted the phone to stop recording and spoiled them with his face, That skink scrolled to the comments. One example: "Fuck. Was that 14? Without a single touch?" Whereby Will replied: "16. I let the last two catch his shirt off frame. I can be merciful, even to the undeserving." 476 faves. "Blowjob next", called an avid fan. 122 Faves. It set new records for Will's channel on Xtube. The reasons compounded: A taller, burly ape who's a girl-addict, wearin' a wifebeater? Gays ate it up. As close as right next to him. None of all these lookers were laughing at him after all, but... Using him...

Wallace sweat bullets. His throat dilated. There seemed a lump in his Adam's apple. In that blink of his blurry eyes, a switch had flipped.

He handed in his test soon after, and got chastised for the drips on its margins. Their instructor said to see the doc if he kept sweating like that. He tripped in the hallway, almost took out a frog heading the other way. His apology was clear but halfhearted. He wondered where the QB could be this time of day... Rode by the quad in his sports car but no sign of the gung-ho tank.

All the while things were brought into picture for him. Nobody watched it to laugh, but to get off. Men were indulging to him doing more of that for a bigger man... A more valued specimen... He couldn't be angry. He processed the push in his shorts. It wasn't for the feminine, it was ALL man shit... And now caused him harder than he'd ever been.

The best thing to happen all day was getting a phone ring... It came out that of everything his memories lost in the bar's haze, swapping digits was one of them. Will had dialed him just to chat, but Wall had other ideas.

Six hours pased, and in the bath of starlight from above them, Wallace dirtied his knees. Down on them, behind the closed gas station, Will's fly open at Wall's ears. He bobbed, caught his lips on sweet knob. Took advice, every time Will told him what's good and what to stop. A towering straight bro kneeled and learned what it means to suck cock, better and better. Twirled his neck, batted tongue down inch after jaw-hurting inch. Getting lost in it. Throbbed twice as hard for every moan Will gave out, and the low words pushing him around. "Deeper, boy. Keep that tongue dancing. I said fast didn't I? Yeeahhh... Big bitch... Beefchested sub, gag on me. Earn it." Will grabbed his neck, pulled and popped him off, watched him jones for it, beg with a man's groan. The QB taught well. "Plead, slut. Show me that need. Aaaattabitch... Gonna go to the balls now? Hm? Yeahhhh. Yeahh-h-h... Fuck that mouthhole..." Wallace filled his nose with old gasoline fumes and the mass of Will's pubes. Nothing manlier existed. Will helped him only when his abs caved from holding in chokes. Shoved the fucker on his dick like dribbling a basketball. Wallace drank pre' and made one long note with every breath he took into snout. His lungs would smell like manbush and petrol for life at this rate.

When the load got close, he latched on Will's legs. The ballrunner built so much on the field from scoring that Wall barely touched hands behind the top's thighs. He gobbled inches. Will mussed his hair, snickered through the rumbles, spit in it and worked the liquid in. "Rrrfhh DOWN on it... Fuuuuckin' your swallow hatch! Who's got the dick, man?" He grabbed Wall's shirt, pulled him back halfway now. Just sufficient for Wallace to talk with lips over cock. "Say it. Admit whose dick you're sucking... Need this musky rod? Want it shooting you to kingdom cum?... Tell the name out. Now, brother..." Wall was four inches down, locked less than halfway on, forced to tell the world. Will heard vocal static and bubbles when the desperate dude foamed his own slobber, mouth flooded, slicking all that meat. But inside of struggle was the name. Stuttered, wanton, all the unraveled sub could do. Will opened wide to put a dom's yell into night, gorilla's roar, his fangs out under chilly stars. His hand put Wall so low on the base that sucktoy couldn't breathe. Then he let off just so Wallace took a lungful, then back to solid-shove on the biggest pole. Waterboarded with dick. Pre' kept trickling, flowing, 'til Wallace felt full from uncoloured cupfuls. He took bruise from Will's hips, welts on his nosebridge from a brick-wall of hardy top. The sub almost came w/o stroking as he braved gag after gag, but that was Will's gift too.

Suddenly, there was quake in the QB's body. It was coming on. He held Will's legs for dear life, while that same bastard punished his uvula, beat the fuck out of his gums. "Kiss those curls, y' seven-foot fleshlight! Daddy's gonna SHOOT!! Ohhh, OHHH, DRINK THIS Y' FUCKBOY!!!"

Three jabs with the tall beercan fattie and a rush of hard shots was on. Creme hot and thick entered his mouth for the first time. His chest froze. Legs thrummed against the pocked asphalt beneath. An out-of-nowhere rage broiled him, drove him to bicker at the stud. "DAMNit! Thhhh-that's farther..." He couldn't finish a sentence, but relayed the idea through his cough and scowling headturn. His ego got him seared worse in the pride, as taking it off his jaw just brought it to pelting his face. "-Fuck yy-yyou, that's messed up... Rrrrhhh..." He growled... It wobbled, tattling his grown crave... Will saw the weak spot in his rep-driven poker face, And poked a bat of a dick back in that face at the suckhole.

Nothing could make him care when the sound of phonecam recording occurred. The cocky bastard gunned his throat with seed.

Wall's throat set the whimper of a moan out, loud and unfettered. With want and unfamilar feel, he kneeled inconsoleable, grunts and groans into space, cloudy twilight. It was like guzzling a Pilsner with no hops and insane body. Viscous it shrouded his throat, his tube on the way to stomach. Inside the criminal abs now it boiled and granted him greed. Will could hammer it in, sure, but the tall boy was a vacuum for the product, and a mouth had his veined demolisher on shot after shot. Wall' could never gulp this fast without training at chugfests... Dares came in handy for a newly-forged dick magnet. Will crowed his ook's with a bass that shattered ears, mussed his latest conquest's hair by yanking that scalp deep as it would flow on the monster. "HEEELL YEHH!! DOWN the hatch, plaything!! More where THAT'S from!! R-rrRGHH!! HHHHNHRRR!! HHAAH!! HHHH-HAHH!!"

The torrent went on and on. The face of college ball there had just whored up those lips, gums, inner guts. Wall couldn't refute it now, nor refuse it. He cruised down inches in spades smooth as Will slid into touchdowns. Star of the endzone, the man in charge, had now fucked his gullet. No wussing out now. No turning back.

Will heaved on like a tsunami to the face. Upper pubes scrubbed a redfur's nose bridge. "HHHAHHH!! FUCK! FFF-FUHCK... YEAH!... MMMmmmyeahhhh..." Will jostled Wall's head around, sank into glow steadier than the straight guy thought possible. Rubbed Wall's chin. Took up some that spilled to taste himself. Wall felt the veins surge to an extreme from the top's joy of this.

He popped his mouth off, felt and commited to brain every side of this dick's feel. Will chucked that chin, and held open Wall's eyelid just to sneer down with a man's glee. "You spilled some, sloppy beanpole. Now eat it off my balls." He lifted up, Wallace cooed and quickly shifted to a butch grunt, remembering the self... Losing it again when life presented him two hefty balls wrecked with cum they'd just got rid of within. He didn't balk. Only lapped, licked, dragged the tongue hard as he'd want done for him on the vulnerable spheres. Mouthfuls were swallowed. More cum than he'd clean off himself a whole week, sent to simmer in the calorie tank. Protein to feed his arm and ab girth. He saw manlier things in this, head moving in a new galaxy versus before. Compared to his old thoughts on guys sucking cock, this was SO bro-like. Male and mighty as it could get.

Will's globes moved in the bag and had him still ooze sweet cum out the tip, drips on Wall's hair. "Mmmnhh. Tastes like a damn good job, eh? Keep it going. You leave a speck on my balls, and I slap a shroom rash on your face. Try explaining that, next day... Take it to bed with yerr girl... RRrrhrhh. Niiiice, studlips." The hair of a biting smarm in that last line flung Wall to a fit, hungering and eating jizz. He got only cause to do it more from Will's words. "... Nnnhfff... You got the GIFT for sack grooming... Our thing, this'll be... You have it smooooth down there, sunbeam... One last thing... Slip lower, eat my taint."

Wallace froze, except his mouth, working of its own accord. He felt cold in his hips, almost unbalanced. He might tip over. How much jizz could this asshole-top have in his gooch valley? He'd had the balls fit through the pants fly, wide as it was stitched to go... Now Wall had the both queazy and awesome task of unclasping another man's button, parting the zipper, pulling down. It felt like pledging. It felt more like a reward, as he smelled scent baked into the trousers over day's light and never gone with laundering. Wash after wash, Will's nuts steamed the seams from flaccid swing to pushy, turgid weapon mode all fucking times he wasn't nude over top of other dudes and Jerr most of the long line. He sank into the crease. Brought his nose back, his chops to contact on it. Cleaned the ballspittle on a quarterback's taintbridge.

Sack skin curtained his nose. Nectar of the god he'd put to climaxing, and his own drool, together, herbed with field sweat. Salt and odor infused him. Waves of swirled cum finished the meal. He felt a bump in that gooch but it was more than muscle... That too, but under well-built crease the gland put out to him. Grand, used like clockwork to pump it out. So the nuts had help... It raced in his mind, made his blood run cold. He licked in every curve of Will's lowest corner. Thanked it, in a way, for wrecking him. He wound up with Will's hand scrubpetting his scalp. A real natural, it told loud and clear... The groans of a contented, up-for-more ape helped.

The name of the newest vid was "Angry 'Rilla Facial". The hits and likes kept coming, as they all worshipped and relayed to him that he did the same.

And there dropped a comment back on a prior message, for the particular clip's page: after "Blowjob next" his username put the return "That was 4 days later. He asked."

It came to be that Will was in a place unique, fierce, intoxicating. Not in charge of the tall dude's lust but controlled at every time he paid it deep, the phone's ring at first on two days a week, then every other day. Soon, it was encroaching on daily. Will came to tingle in his mass every time the new ringtone he put to Wallace - DJ Sharkey's "Dehumanise 2007" - played in his pocket. The place he had this chick-dating Casanova, and more and more men learned, those across the airwaves and those a good share closer by.

The weather changed by next morning, yellow rays beat down. He could swear traffic never honked this exact much on the way to class. Or to his vegan horse girl's pad, the quickies hot there yet tapering.

Classes melted together. His mind's eye held sharp on only the things in lectures, textbooks. Shit for his major. Beyond that, he juked with some possum dudes in the hall bumping trap beats, traded car updates with a locust who rolled in a souped-up Honda. Daps and some breezy talk with a new honey in Advanced English, a Lithuanian lioness with a skinny waist. Somehow his flirts didn't come out the same... His throat was sore too, overused. So he fantasized a moment on her phat ass... Then invented her being plowed hard in a porn... Starring the quarterback, as deep in her as he drilled in Wall's eating hole. He couldn't let it go, even if he hadn't staggered for half a day or so. Drunk off the sore knees and rush of what got them there.

The next Xtube vid had a datemark of Easter. It came with cost this time: a party Wallace set up to crash with Heather in-tow, a mutual good time, went right past its deadline; he was instead on all-fours, dirty in the woods, jelly-legged. Will's hotdogging beast cock shook the trees behind the residence hall, leaning on one, wobbling the other from roars in the shade. Meat was picked up and slammed back down on the ring, and Will stole into the scorching-hot man-ass.

"OOOoo--kkhh!!" Red hips rattled, Wall's muscle shook while shapely, his throat put out primal sounds. A screw for the ages, every minute that seemed longer while his hole seared, pressed the fact of Will's gigantism. Wall kicked streaks in the drying mud and dug in with his claws, strained. Agonied. Overjoyed. "Ahhh-AHH-ahh!!" Pains readied him for anything the horsecocked QB dished out. All of this, caught in a window with 'REC' prominently in the corner. The view swooped down to massive brown dick plugging the entirety of burly red crack's ring; severely in, quickly out, time and time again. Socking a gland with head. Stretching a chasm, every vein a rib, each scream from Wall an earthshaker. The wasp-waist bottom tried processing sensations; these were too much, but Will rubbed his nose in the dirt when the decibels climbed too high. Wall's ass even 'climbed' trying to get away, just once, before Will hauled off and slapped the living shit out of it. Wall's hands and feet seized, he rolled out a howl like a dog kicking at a good itch. Only it was Will's length scratching that. No more escape attempts, even accidental, no matter the lack of Wall meaning to get away.

The new clip's titled "Angry 'Rilla 2: Not So Angry." It makes view numbers in nothing flat, but more remarkable is the breakdown. A thing of beauty; Will's choice is to frame it as the 'stages' meme. 5 stages of Thirst.

First Stage: Fright, the headers Will edited in spell out.

When fans click the photo it becomes the vid, shows a throbbing monolith between buns that could crush cans. Wall's hand goes from clutching at wet leaves to grabbing the back of his head, at a loss for what to do. It's gonna be so deep. Spearing him with no rest and less gentle moves. Wider than a Coke can. He whimpers, and it doesn't shift back to low tones of a guy with control. He has none. Will Jr. will ream him so hard he could swear it's jumping an inch further out Will's hips each time he'll fling it. Wall can't bear the future of sore effect, and at the same time, he can't call 'time' for a second. Will holds him down by the small of his back. He takes it like a man. He shakes in his very lungs and Will's weapon hides that dudesnatch, drips him a bath of its own lube, talks of jackhammers to the poor afraid fucksleeve.

Second stage: Temptation

Will puts it right on ground-zero, gives side-to-side sweeps, dragging dick and Wall's ass muscle with him. His grunt isn't quite a grunt, closer to the sound of taunts. Will's glans hits the precipice of his living toy's ring... He forces pressure at an angle to arch up that ass but NOT sink through the hole. Wallace goes berserk, beats in the ground with his elbows, carves out a notch with his chin as it tucks in his neck. Will relents for a small fraction of a minute, with purpose: Air's getting to the spot Wall's been kissed by dick, and it reminds fully of the absence now. He yearns anyway, losing straightness more with the passing moments. Every pro' thrust he's in for and talented push on the right vertebrae besides, locking him in place... Now he can't live this day through without closure. He calls out a name and the owner's right there. Wall cranes his neck to see behind as much as doable; Will's nude and over him like a nature documentary. Wallace begs that gay fucker to make him a NatGeo bitch.

Third Stage: Reluctance

He once regrets this, when Will proceeds to push it once, make it -POP- through a scared hole. Meatpole finally parts that sweet oval. Wallace snarls and pops off in a second. Then a ball of spit falls on the ring, and dicktip presses again, an inch deeper. The tall guy's cursing; Wallace goes tense with more luscious cock in his crater, all he can think to need. He wants to scramble out, try and lie saying he needs more time or it ain't a good idea. Thoughts, in fact, only tend toward the footballer male buck-naked behind him, prestigious, godly, and that scale-tipping beefstick he's in heat for. Praying to the man upstairs he won't be teased again and have to lack that jizz gun's rifling up his backdoor. If he still wants to refuse or escape, it can't be done. But he can't take it. But he can't deny the bliss, nor Will's mighty self... What the beefy assbreaker wants is gospel now. Wallace clenches teeth and lets it get traumatized. Ravaged. Will weighs twice what his higher-scalped hombre here does and every ounce is put into shanking virgin hole.

Fourth Stage: Acceptance

Inside the vid, Will's gliding is all the way now. And back out. Easily. Wall gets chiseled where it forms a path for Will's destroying him. Wallace can't hear his own wails over Will's roar of monstrous shoves, PAP-PAP-BAM, a three-spoked rhythm turning Wall's starfish to jam. Wall's meeting his roars with welcome, though... The top's ears can receive it just fine, the cloying little tokens of male subbing, a macho corner to the humble pie, a spittle-borne storm of 'please' and 'whoaaa' and 'fuuu-uuck' from the voice of a he. Will has a song in his heart for how much this is his kinda scene... He packs cock in that first-run broken seam, and Wall starts hitching back with the plunges. Helping. Hurrying the crest on.

Pace quickens. The red silverback's ooking. His cheeks start to clap, and he pulls off again, as experiment; Will shows he's right with the findings, a guiding hand clamps down on him, brings that ass right back on. Wall won't be letting it go again, if he wanted to at all.

Fifth Stage: Defeat

Big, fleshy ass is bouncing ITSELF on the shaft. Will smacks it twice. It doesn't stop, barely even hiccups the timing. Will talks his dirtiest to the man givin' up that hole to what it always should. "Wreck that ass on it, Wall'! Yerr middle name's Tenga... Rrghhh, big bad beta bro, RIDE that!! DASH that pucker to bits!! Fucked stupid and full-on slam candy!! Rrfhh! RRHH!! " Wallace dips it from up on his knees, back brawn towards the cut husky mountain of muscle and meat. Power bottoming while it fucks him, two forces to be reckoned with, joined. He feels like he's always loved dick, much as this is etched on his spirit, hard as Will steals in that gym-fed booty. Or he always loved Will's dick at least, from afar before he knew. No more waiting to be woke. They're in the home stretch, Will with his loads primed to stuff inside a sweaty fold, Wall with that cracksweat like it's helping start the countdown. Wet manpussy. Will's groan broadens, forcing his fifth limb less now that it just seems to dock like an ingrained fit. He pops out - intentionally - and Wall grabs it this time, like a glutton, slides it back in for him. Rams his rear feetward and warbles in sugared misery.

The camera shakes greater than ever; Will's smirk slides across the video frame as a hidden 6th stage pops up over him: Broken.

Hips belonging to a turf-honed champ split the narrower Wall's. They heighten tempo, sink Will's hammer from tip-to-base hugely fast. Nearly nine buried in the poor slut, a man stammering. "F-f-f-fuhh-hck!! Hn-h-hhghh-h-h! W-ww-wi-i-ill... W-w-whooaaaa!" Will laughs in his barks and roars and snorted mania. So the big baby of a bottom loves the word 'whoa', when in heat anyway. He might just set up a counter for the number of these he'd start hearing, day or night, any hour. Nothing crushed it in the cut like Will's sweaty maleness, and the taller heartbreaker doubles over. Fucked like a toy. Called one. Wrists going numb on the forest floor behind his own frat. Hot blood, stem to stern, steam coming out his damn hole from this friction in a spring's eve. Will's hips escalate, they're storming in that heavy cock. Destroying Wallace, like no straight boy'd ever been busted by even the man himself. Will stands over the bellowing of trauma'd ooks he caused, the kind heard through walls into every student flat. He makes earpiercing brays himself, but puts most heart in the task, letting Wallace tell them all himself. Heather's other half's voice, quaking. Meantime Will wipes his stubble-line. Deliberate. Doing the math in his head; this many loads dumped in her boy, per night... Overtipping the scales, with what this anus's other side put out to a womanly place.

Will's O' strikes, and he belts that bro' ass with hand while it takes far worse in center, more than median from that studfucker. Every rope gets its own stab of the pleasure pipe. A welt raises on the straighter man's left bun, ruining him for after when he'd be explaining to his girl(s). He loves it, since his head swam while the first rocketing spurts hit his sweaty caved ring. Will pumps it in, had no pity for his taker, hit that as hard as his superhuman bod could and would. To shot fourteen, all was deep and violent; then Will rears back, pulls out with it. A trail of white dribble leaves with him, and pours down the crease of Wallace. Six more shots round out the surprise-cannon, Will's potence and a steaming shot of pain for the raw'ed ass. Still the greatest feeling ever. Wall can't comprehend why and doesn't try while he's ground into the dirt, drenched with mancreme up his toned back.

When the last of it milks its way out to the latest guy's ass, Will sighs in a whistle. Slaps the wounded cheek once more, making Wallace call him a dumbshit bastard, while dripping with his dick juice. Will calls him the gayest tomcat in the sorority's hose drawer, and taps that hulking cock on the crack still parted. Then while Wallace groans, cusses at himself for being so weak for it, Will rests the meat there like a trophy.

Recording blips OFF.

The sniveling from Wallace? Sub' as it was, it still carried vibes. Can't hide the man in it. Every thundering whine was in a burly ape's cords, Wallace having depth to that fitness. What else wasn't hid?... Will's dick once it went soft and back in jean cutoffs. Excepting now, inside the right dude; Wallace dealt with knowing he qualified. He hid every inch and discovered himself... To hate it seemed old now, he felt tired of the fight.

The primal need now: to be by the outlet, any day and time. To keep Will close as his own plum-holding briefs

And the views on those vids kept stacking. While he's unawares, and when he'd go to check later. Near the dorm OR out from campus.

Another day and his irritated Heather showed him folded arms... The excuse that he "hurt his back siderollin' a park bench" impressed none of her. They'd still missed the Easter ball, and he made sure to only roll his eyes when faced away as she listed all the nights, calls and lunches he'd been skipping. But it did sound true if dumb to his poor girl, so she worried not that he staggered for a week. She hugged him lighter though. For less time.

It healed little by day-seven. Background for this would be the fact of going back to that brash well, bein' dipped in. Will's pants hit his ankles from on-high, right before that hole was brought back to strain and get battered. But Wall couldn't fall apart... Hardy, primed, mature. In the coming weeks, apologies to Heather were done, roses brought to his mare, nights on the town had her included. Some of the latter also raked in old mutuals. Good times were had in joke and chat and reminiscing. He felt comfy here, just another face in hangouts of heteros. More lay behind his mouth, however, than the wit and the remember-when's. Those friends of theirs would comment on how he sat stiff, drinking, a million miles away. Heather talked of other things; she'd gone around and around with this by now, and at most she got stories of cool-move-gone-wrong. Tall tales.

When Wall slipped away, hit speed dial and connected to the QB, he heard sounds that swirled the beer inside him. The air was bitter outside but Wall had a place to break away and fuel the tickle in his anus. Jerr's chimpy squeals and low-crying voice traded off the whole time... A multi-tasking Will had the phone to his ear and his main bro's hips hooked to girth and grind, fucking on a kitchenette counter in their frat digs. The terrific dom had outlets if the new 'bro' couldn't swing it. Knowing this, Wall tucked his wood deep into the pencil jeans he'd donned for tonight. The worst article for covering, but it's not like he could know he'd hear the randy, gung-ho Jerr get shot up with the same thing he craved like lager. Nor that Will would give a play-by-play.

For ten solid minutes, the redhead 'player' listened to a man with REAL game describe thrashing his li'l monkey boi. How it felt to be all up in guts that have a prostate. The reach he got into that bony squealer. The compliments won from the chimp slut with a skinny 'stache, wet with jizz target practice. Jerr's loose back where Will held the J'-man down. Heather's text tones were like an echo to her boo, while Will's explaining how good he fucked and thrashed a furry ring were so loud to him it's like his mind itself told it. Yet it wasn't. Will sent him proof after, the waterfall out Jerr's squirmy ass... How close it related to Wall now.

Heather could swear he had frostbite on the nose. Now he had to lie and say he took up vaping, and the cartidges work best in 20 degrees.

Jerr wound up getting off on Will's length up his cave, with other help. He looked up the vids, held plenty of love for the redhead... Taking just what he took... Not missing anything. The tall boy had found true life. Jerr shot three ropes on the countertop, wrangled by the man who moved straight mountains. He glowed after with the footage stuck on playloop. Will showed the schlubs who thought they're all about the fairer sex what's up. Jerr's little pistol wouldn't go down for a day or more.

Back in Wall's world, it closed in on him. His grades rollercoastered; sometimes there weren't enough minutes in the day to nail the tests and have Will hand out bedbreaking fucks, in the bushes at quad, the supply closet, outside Wall's own dorm, in the near woods where Wall's heart flipped with his black cherry's first rupture. Wallace was the one to hit Will up, hacking words, fidgeting with his lap, dry in mouth and nowhere else. But Will demanded tribute, every day. And he'd FIND the big bitch if it came to that. He could ask anything and the beefy seven-footer leapt to doing it, just as crazed as any twink like Jerr or the other beastlier guys that ran plays on the field with Will's loads pooled inside them from locker room wars.

Will could ask him to dance nude for the dean and he'd have went into a strip number that day. But the football star had closer plans.

This latest time, Wall missed the deadline set by his top to come and drain sweaty orbs after a hike. 2 PM on the dot, and Wall was in State U's corridors half-jogging. Applied Chem was at two more turns, he was so close to safety unspotted. Faces of all shapes, heights, moods, flew by him as he ran with stinging glutes, still sizzled from the spank of monster hands.

"Penny for your time, tardy."

Wall's ribcage tingled. He didn't want to stop and acknowledge; at least he thought he didn't. The learned tower of dark handsome knew him better. Off the lockers Will's elbow pushed... Five feet from the red 'n' silver whose eyes stayed unstill but low on him. Wall's gym pecs filled with air, and held it, while he let the main man take his arm, swing him over to the metal row of lockers. Nothing was slammed or bent either... Will pushed moderate, and the big galute who needed him let it take his steering wheel. Wall thought of nothing and no one around but the huge lug pressing him by the chest crease, locked on the grill of the vents. He spoke like there were no needs outside the trespasser. "So sorry man, I let'ch' down... I know I gotta pay..."

Will blew air out one side of his mouth, a sneer behind those lips. "Admission won't stop me." He got in close - 80% of him on Wall, is just how close - and loved the murmurs around them, his spectators. Will's free hand pulled Wall's zipper so hard it broke after opening, then his own near as heavily, spilling them both out. Two men hard as a rock. Will's bigness pointed just above the bottom's rod, to a space reserved for upper pubes, red bristles on Wall. And right there and then, as watchers swooned or shouted, laughed or liked it, he spritzed a two-second piss into the fabric and fur. Wall's shirttail ruined, his Levi's moreso. The 'straight' taker moaned higher than he'd ever do a month ago... A man's piss warmed his clothes and flowed right down his thumping dick, his base, his ball hair. A man who'd already bought that ass with deep work, chiseled inside him, stuffed the port like heaven's incubus. Same tool, now washing him with punishment.

The big-man-in-campus-dudes stopped his own stream; it wasn't pain for him, too much control and power. He let Wall down off the lockers; for a moment the tall bruh stood close, unable to bear backing off. But Will reached down to his own cutoffs, reconfined the assets. He sent the longboy off with a smack on the ass. "Don't be late again."

"I won't dare, sir." Came the answer, from a low pitch driven high and horny. Wall's cheek hurt worse now. Will walked away in charge, leaving a man whose fly reeked of his manpiss. One that wouldn't shut anymore to hold Wall's cock back. Shamed, either praised or insulted by the bystanders, hot between the ears, on-edge in the organ he couldn't tuck away, Wall wobbled to the bathroom and struggled with his ziptab after rubbing out three jets. First things lavishly first. But he couldn't fix what Will broke. His maleness stood out the XYZ that would never seal again.

He had to tolerate second-period with his briefs in-view, once he could forget Will's taste or size long enough to let the dong retreat and snap the cotton garment over it. But the word was out to all now. Plus, he still got to explain to the amused or the mad why he couldn't close the flap. Too erect to deflect, and the lessons were hard for the remainder of second. Fucking hell, the smell was so ripe... Will's microbrews from last night had a zest and a linger. He felt corrupted, more than any act heretofore. More than thoughts which clawed at him. Wallace Jr. sounded its alarm to be stroked, until the very minute the bells rang and he could snatch his books and run.

In the Xtube data, a vid (#8 at this point) showed the golden kink some love. Will had sleight of hand or secrets, getting it filmed every time. The comments were intoxicating. So too were those in Wall's mind; he booked it to his car door, fumbled with the keys. Shit beguiled him as he fell onto the custom seats. Out his mouth, not even consciously, a stream of impulses left him, crowded by the Staind in stereo speakers. "Fuck, it's like he owns me... Can't be like this, I gotta shower before I pick up Candace... Nahhh, Cathy tonight! THAT'S right... Motherfuck, lost track o' the day... *sniiifff* That's beers I bought him alright... Went right through my pants, from his... His..." He drove with one hand, steered his dick's fortitude with the other's hard jerking. Girls of the month took up a fraction of the space Will did, and his size, and the soreness, while he pawed to all of it. No way could he dispell the gay need, not with his red face in class, not now with panting and the most meager focus on avoiding a crash. "He had me right where he wants... Gotta show me... What else he does..." The lust for more, and what he'd be made to do, took him over. No more visions of the female set for today. He made it home without a scratch, had two hours before his date, and stepped out on 'that third nut'. The first two were pre-shower; he worked off that crave for the stench of Will's ex-alcohol he'd run through every testo-laden cell of himself. Sent through the cum rifle. Just to mark a manbitch.

Next Sunday, he had afternoon to burn. On his PC the cursor flew through triple-X windows, busty blondes, cowgirls w/ thigh gap. The flesh was willing, but the spirit weak... He noticed how perfectly made-up the models were, and it did nothing for him.

A few more sites, dominatrix reddits. Subforums for sub men. It sparked something, but the sum just didn't get there intact... His flagpole faltered and didn't rise again. He 'fuck-this' and 'goddamnit'-ed while his hand slapped a soft piece of nonwood. He huffed with a flushed T-zone; he wouldn't be icing his pube field tonight. Unless, of course... And on the concept's first light he went to pull up the pics of Will, sent at earlier behest. More than one or two, but just enough to corral the ruddy 'rilla, keep him close. Urge him to call more often, set up close encounters of the male kind.

A handful of minutes passed and his tongue knocked the roof of his mouth, jerking like mad with heart and biceps in it handily. Nut-number-one approached in his hand, and while the surge went through his muscle - his pink snout, his burning where he sat - he shot into the cup his palm made while he missed another's taste. Will made the grunge-coated jockstraps and tight undies he rocked soak the succulent equipment day-to-dusk. Peeled away, it got sweat beading on his chest hair. He knew it most from being forced down, or held hard by a size king. And still it was his chasing it that got him those sweet loads, the scabs on his back where Will dug in and it healed to be clawed again. Divets were small pains, where the quarterback bore down pressure when on top of him, fucking his poor layman brains out.

"Fuuu-uu-u-uck... I'm that man's... I'm his... I... I need nectar..."

It was so majestic and long, his climax now and the cause's anatomy. He starved for nectar alright; the answer would be simple.

As he rolled abs-to-neck in ecstacy, twerked his ass under himself - practice for the papa ape - he made a choice. It affected when he milked out the last late drops of white into his mitt, where that went. Lifting to his mouth, he disposed of it like the lipstick'ed or the pussy-poppin' set had done when really into him, those special times.

It tasted like Will's, partway... Salt came in and the taste turned for him. It was a good facsimile but not the real thing, as he'd took and begged out of the footballer fucker on many nights predating this confused one. Wall's eyes flitted as he swallowed his own product. It only drove in memorandum of the better one's. He had to have it more, now. In fact, when he had to clean out hard drive space for Heather's new PC game the next day, the first things to go were secret girlfilled folders. One by terse unresisting one.

Half a week passed and his C:/ was clear, his conscience dirty and motivated. In the seat of his sports coupe the radio oft went low and texts were used less. He preferred hearing his superior tell him what's what. The schedule opened up since he started to let it. The jokes at him in the hall, callous callouts, just amounted to tryhards, trolls. Any time within reason, or outside of it, Will's accepting of his jones carried a smile in voice form, pure luxury. Like the owner of that sweaty hog dumped a bucket of silk curtains on him when the booty calls connected.

"Hey, Will? You there?"

"Fairly sure I am. Evening, straight boy. What can you do for me?"

"... Dinner. In those blue briefs." They had a lingo and a set of faves, at encounter twelve. Wallace moved at the hips, unable to quit. "But I want it thrown down this throat. Harder than yerr monkey gets it."

"....... That's a tall ask. Well you're the expert. You know you're gonna earn the time."

"F-... Fuckin' right I will..."

Wall couldn't tell where his nudging ended and Will's pull began. Who cared. After late lunch with Heather - faking every moment he listened - out to the row dorms he drove, and the one where Will's ass left prints in the couch. The redhead's knees went white on the carpet, brushed by the sofa skirt, caged by Will's legs. He had a singular noise coming forth, the longest groan while two lips worked slowly down the length of his muse. Will and his pinache, 19 going on 30. Everything about the gay pulverizer built itself into a true daddy before his time... Wallace slid right up that fat-as-fuck pole, dove down like no one's biz, loving every second he could. Power, refined and grinding his throat folds. No purer place of man exists than that staff he polished... A titan he felt life coarse through. Its owner hollered and the noise bent macho as a hardware store.

40 minutes elapsed. Their beer-breathed dance had the couch sopping-wet; Will's megameat leaked two times the clear of his bad bitch's spit glands. Top-ape made his BJs a thrust parade, never one to put a hungry bro to work solo... Right now he deigned to tease. He popped it out - no announcement, just the *clap* as lips lost suction - and laid it plain on the 'skirtchaser's face, one side of it. Decisively he let pure pulse beat up on Wall's left brow, the slut's oscillating cheek. He sat so noble and noiseless; Wall's lungs would not stop fluctuating, legs in a sway-frenzy. The right eye tried its damndest to stay lucid on a master's powergaze... The left, hotly obscured. Every thump carried.

Will layered on the charm while Wall saw only his nose; the fucker's head was back and indulgent. "Call your ma'am sometime... Rhhhh... Ask her if she loved being you right now."

Wall could feel his asshole kiss at the air; he'd never had one part of him envy another. He tried answering, through the hot scrumptious muck of his mouth's mess. Will shut that down with taps of his dick. Or rather bashes on the male's pretty face. Witty charm had no place coming from he who served. Will poked fun at him again: asked "How looks the beef down there?... Can your eye gather anything else?"

"Y-yeshh'rr, a faaaht longg-*BAP*" Will caught him on the orbital bone with a cockswat. He didn't have to do one thing more; just reclined in triumph now, while a living muscle god kicked out in craves and flared his nose to smell ALL of that manhood he could. Will looked down at solid wins: his bendless monster tool, the straight-turned-boi, the body of that same scrub he'd relaunched as a heavy lifter... Each piece conspired now to milk his massive prize.

Wallace grieved for that dick, every time it wasn't in him and he knew it. The assets Will exposed were hunted by tongue. Wall couldn't talk back to his feeder even if Will asked now. He shimmied like a car out of alignment. Hair was mussed merely from how he vibrated ears-to-dimples. No thought went beyond the flavoured girth.

Will slipped it back in and the hips wrenched up full-blast. There was choking, sputtering. It stopped. The dick was pulled free again, -POP-. Roy muttered incoherently and Will shoved it back in that man's lips, ending the shakes he watched. It went in succession: 6-second gullet pounding. Breakout. 5-second hyperthrusts. More popout. Juuuust a wee bit more speed every time. A smattered intensity, and that much less of Wall's free will. Literally. Fucked. Stupid.

Will crowed his joy like any man should, to be that perfect and fellated. "MMNNN-NNGHhhh!!" Not the next moneyshot, just effects of suckle plus size plus tantric want from the tall dickswinger and his tepid moist gums. And to perch on-edge was a fleeting ledge; Will heard mewled hollers under his own haughtiness... That throatpussy was rallied into Wall's first dicksucking orgasm. It pushed the sofa skirt, the only kind he'd be blowing up now, when seven inches of Wallace went off just lavishing that bigger bro. Peaking from the act of being used. SO goddamn into that schlong.

This point - where Will leaned down and whispered commands, praise, even idle threats to make the poor tall bitch feel endangered just for thrill - this was where Wallace stopped caring.

"Sprain your tongue on it, bad bitch... Eat that dick, or -I- phone Heather and explain... Flub with those teeth and your sack gets tied off. I use twine."

Will nonchalantly pulled out his phone and snapped pics with recklessness. No protest in the slightest was given, no requests for secrecy lobbed to him. No quips from Will to cover the action. He wasn't surfing the web, wasn't texting the coach; he was blatantly, most certainly filming. Gifts for porn vultures. In his and the cam's line of sight, big ol' sharp primate canines danced around 8+ inches of manpipe: Wallace learned quick and readily. Flushed. Ravenous. Eager to GET filmed.

Will stood, after letting so much carry on through the zipperhole, and moved to peel those pants off. The member swung in its turgid radius, bigger than the heart pumping like a well-oiled machine in Wall's pec-basement. Will was SO hung and into letting it out... The fucking sequoia fixed to that husky man drew Wallace in like a scepter enchanted... The QB just laughed and pointed down to it. "Spitshine, por favor. If you don't wish to miss out jobbing this giant to the father lode."

Wall shook on all-fours and tucked his head in his armpit; he couldn't stand how right this felt, how much he couldn't think of not going for it... He had vigor, a man alright, down in slut's pose bowing to another. Puffs of violent breath heralded each deed he did for the bigger ape... And somehow his want never waned. The desire stayed, even grew, as Will sat back and beckoned with his cock... Made it swing with muscle in the "c'mere" signal. Wallace went to town on it, jiggled by his own early shots. Will knew how to get to him, more and more ways. "He's an early soldier, eh?... Lost it by seeing how much there is to mine?... Gooood dick..." He reached up with a huge black toe. Stroked the side of Wall's peach, that half-bubble, wrapped in red fuzz, rich with salt. Holding on to stank of the day. Will's words tore at the sub dude's insecurities; accused him of premature discharge. Wallace let a harsh note through his lips, but the joke or the gripe or whatever ego he coughed up was lost while those lips sucked huge cock.

Will captured tease in its essence. "That's a fine long boy, he gave it up for me... Mmnghhh... He shot off and threw in the towel... No more fishpocket for the antsy li'l Ford driver." Wallace turned clammy on the brow, at the neck... It felt so wrong but so good that Will could tell what changes took place. He epiphanized that he himself was one of many; that Will knew the chain of acceleration, where non-gay cock slaves lost their old selves; what collateral damage hit their lives like shockwaves. Will's dick pushed in that windpipe like a barrier break, came back again, struck that throat as bolts of male lightning. Will's gut rose and tumbled, breath after stimulated breath. Wallace felt what the BJ did to that massive bro, but Will said it anyway. "... So sensitive... SO fucking big..." He named his own condition. The impact Wallace had on it. That boytoy clenched fists, deep down belittled by the hot damn boss and that claim to fame he sucked off, kneeled for. But Wall went studious. Stayed deeper. Like pleasing it would get him closer to equal... Or prove overall, he had the moxie and man-card to deserve rights toward it, gazing on it, helping, being its jizz bin.

Lips squeezed in as he plunged, turned, plucked at the curves where his tongue strummed. Will rocked in each leg independent, tossed his head upon the pillowback, prodded Wall's neck to go the distance. The campus king brainiac howled joy, indulged in his trigger, all the span of it. Wall's heels clicked, his nuts hung low from his thigh gap. He knew so much now; that he was not just about to see such a potent, superior, huge tower, but serve it 'til there's no more white bursts to give... Which was almost never the case, much as those globes always churn with sperm. Wall could never outlast Will. Nor his balls, made for the hungriest of men.

He might as well call his feeder Daddy, right on cam. It wouldn't make it any less true.

"... W-W-Wiiilll... D-dad..." He intoned, once hiding that fat length over and over caught the lightest break. To gasp and to thirst. "Y'you're a huge cuss... Daddy... Fhhhck-hhmmmnnn~" Into a grand slide down the pole, heaving his neck on, helping it hurt.

Will twisted with incandescent joy. He pushed the bitch of a boy on and made it count. Made Wallace count too, the number of secs he could hold his breath. When Wall popped off, first the top felt chill from his guido-ape drawing air, right at the shaft; then the sweet heat of him expelling it. The sucker had mind racing: it's just 19 years that unfurled Will into a turf beast, a bedroom shaker, hung stud AND a pro at everything to do with making it happen. Fuck machine for the biggest bastards, for his pliable capped wingman, for anyone born with a throat bulge and a briefs one besides. Wall set low on that nozzle and thanked the stars for letting him find this kind of power.

The top mixed it up, and pulled Wall's head off the leaking hose; let his own dick bounce around. It dripped ape slobber down the nuts. Wall was ten times redder in the face than the fur, buying his ticket back on by beg. "Hhhfhh, please Will... Big poppa... Lemme at it..."

Said Will, at a drip of spit from the mouth to his monster, "Want that dick?"

Wall, back to the maker of cream, thicc and sturdy, hard and hairy, "Urrghhh... Sir yessir..."

"What now?" Will persuaded, each pulse a new jump for the sledgehammer cock.

"Yyyeaaaahh..." Wall sounded relieved and tortured, equal. It felt so good to get it out, the truth, fraught and messy. The hard servant called him baba, master, never batted a messy eyelash. Will let go of the bitch's neck and Wallace flung forward; he gagged on that fucker in nothing flat. Zoomed on with purpose. Magnetized, hypnotised, drinking the pre, struggling on mass. Will knew he's got his 'ho by the tightening balls, set up to make the quote-unquote straight's own load shoot from aiding Will's. So he cajoles. Preys with psychology.

"Observe. See what you're made for, fuckhole?... Hhhhhoo-yehhh... Daddy runs your life now... Come to me when it gets tough. I'll be tougher... Nnngh, fuck I'll mangle that ring!"

Only what he felt made it through his senses... O-face was on the way, and his approach got Wall banged up in the tonsils. Demanding while Wall brought it wet and pained. The sub burned in the tongue but goddamn if he didn't wick it and wipe it on the battering meat, the athlete in control.

Will couldn't help but cast a look down over a steady back, to Wall's cracktown. Acres of backside. That had took him on too. Pounds of beefed-up apple that flexed and moved with the dives. Jerks along with shudder when Will slipped out and stamped Wall's face, with or without permission tonight. The mark of a killer toadstool; Wall craved it past the point of being threatened by any of his inner self. He fucking twerked near as well as Jerr, when Will gave him a new option: take care of other pressure and lap his piss up like a water fountain. Right there from the couch.

First the QB stood up, let wizz come forth down his hardon, where Will personally caught it with a tired tongue learning skill after skill. Then Will played another high card; took the bitchboy's chin in-hand and held firm. He had the swole slut posed just right to piss straight down his throat, hit the swallow-hatch. Will made fun of his dude while 'using' him. "You're a urinal now, nut-for-brains... Living, leaking piss basin... Ahhhh... Relief... One gay-ass scrub to his halfling... "

Not a drop spilled, the foam filled Wall's maw before every gulp. The swallower shook the floor, and Will had sent him off to two early firings, no help. Wall rocked the house with orgasm while he knelt, drank, pined... The giver looked like he might let it end there, but nope, he juked Wall and pushed his scalp down to the tip, then pumped like a bat out of hell. Dark yellow piss spritzed and stopped but pre was oozing on, heavier. Wall understood to keep still and let that top ruin him; Will heaped it in, stretched the lips and his own strong vessels 'til the true man's peak came to be.

Last thing Wallace could think before he felt flood and heard bombast, was how it felt being Will's bro, his pupil, his fucktoy and his pissguzzler. All four.

"RRRRRGHHUUUUHHH-HHHHH!!" Will bellowed. He had insurmountable bliss, rapid shoves. Wall heard the most primitive roars; his shooter didn't need charm when it went off. The red G' knew it decimated holes. His was a casualty. He sent every liquid mawful to the abs and couldn't keep up, it pumped such gluts. More than the first night. Or the third, or seventeenth.

A new week arrived, and Wallace reached up his wall to tear the Sunday page off the calendar. Swaddled in a flannel quilt from the waist down. His bed was emptier now, any day the school's football hero didn't darken his sheets. Fully formerly straight... The breakoff with his girl was amicable to some extent. Word gets around after all, and when he couldn't 'magic-up' an excuse to fit the need, off she went, questing for a man with certainty. She kept his number in her phone... She knew the value of a trade, as her preferred New Orleans rap highlighted. It just wasn't good for her chosen household. Life goes on. He had, and with no bitterness... It impressed her but the reason it went simple lay lower down on him.

Later his toes were cold poking out the comforter; Chest heavy, he'd been working out twice as hard in the time since barhopping w' Jerr and his better half. The yearn in that twink cuss propped him up, and Will would usually be there to take advantage, even if it's just reaching under a poker table to give a rough handy while they bet 5's and 10's. Wall found thrice as much time for hanging out with the posse as his courseload of books. They were a means to an end... This, a way to the good life.

Will even upped the ante more nights, awarding manly deeds for the redfur building his pecs deeper, putting more inch in the arm pythons. Wall came to understand - and dwell on thoughts of it, every time he deadlifted in Bally's or Gold's Gym - that clumsy mouth wasn't made for eating chickholes, it's for men's poles.

Every moment he could savor it, he ducked out to relieve his 'worries'. But sometimes it just wasn't possible. At the hours where he occupied the gym, training, working into a shape even more up Will's alley, there'd be routines where a timer ruled his life. At one such juncture he was on a weight bench with 400 pounds behind him, 15 over each leg to resist. His mind first raced over his car, the last time he took it for a spin at 105 down the turnpike, planned for every spot the cops could've hid. Then he thought of a man ducking into it, a soft crewcut in billows while it skimmed perfectly the inner ceiling fabric. The smell of rubber, of axle grease and dashboard finish, all fell to the grass and male sweat, the taste of Will's chest, pit, haymaker... Maybe gin and juice in-residue when they went in for a kiss, the badder man's tongue snaking down into the stack of muscle's mouth...

... "Wh-wha?"

"I said check your britches, dude! Get that outta sight or go home!" Wall had been the one to break his own trance, but the voice after voided him back with full anger. A brunette kangaroo with two shits to give and a tattoo of his sister's face hiked up his sneer and pointed for the exit. He owned neither here nor the machines in it, but saw this as a torrid offense. When Wall glanced down and saw the wet tip on a tent, beating his own pulse, he moved the hill and set the tapered pont into his seam. With haste he dropped the pull-handles and his feet out of the machine and carried his towel in shamed fastwalk. But all the way down the block, it wasn't now he thought of. Will fucked that mouth so damn classy and dank. The fucker created erogenous zones where there weren't before... The redfaced redfurred bodybuilder-junior had one unlocked on his eating-lips. The big ol' bottom had been literally pleasured by throat work. Wall shut out the humiliating boner in public, and let in only what forced it to be. Will would watch those big eyes glaze over, mouth stretched over funk-basted wristthick sausage. Wallace fogged up in his head but his jaw would be on overdrive, swoops, dips, crescent-swivels. He felt wet now, at 50 degrees, cars lurching as some of the sharper eyes spotted his spot. Pre didn't dry like rubbing alcohol. He'd sooner go home and nap through what would have been his ab-crunch time, and maybe when he woke up, drying would have happened, the accuser would have gone, he could return and make up the time et cetera.

He lost his sense worse, though, every time his milk shot from having his neck broke in like a Magnum XL. Will was never out of sync; he'd tease or taunt about making that throat a pussy. The redback would moan from strain in there, mass contained. Will would have roared with further delight if he was at all into the XX. But he knew who did. The ex-straight would know the comparison so much deeper.

Wall fiddled with his pants once more, losing the squeeze that hurt his wood but kept it in place. Another way his pride reduced to shambles. He even caught the undertones in all the big fucker, and Jerr, acted out, how they saw life. To Will and his chimp cronie, it IS a man's world. Two shooters or more, one the stronger, tailholes and stiff nights and drinks. One hardassed 'rilla to rule them all. The kind of man who would whip it out just to get the groans going, or be administered praise. As it was, night after aching sweet pungeant colossal night.

He slid in his door and took care of the bulge before the laundry. It was unloading on his snail trail by the time he caught his breath after gym and jogging home, then he had to catch it again from piping hot cum all over his beef and its valleys. Ditches where each stomach row parted were harder to clean. It occurrred to him how things changed, leaving his straight-and-narrow world. The choking every day took the stress out every muscle in his tallness. The new arousal zone was its own damn massage.

Somewhere inside him, the casual mind probed while he set his pants in a load due to be washed anyway. He had the potential to be an alpha himself. Likely he was in certain circles. Then, that day and fateful meeting... He licked his lip, still split a bit from where Will pumped it right in. "It's not my fault", he recalled from deep in his hindsight. The bravado stayed, but the game? Honeys and their baggage, the female set and its sums, so effortlessly tossed aside. Just another conquest of many. He thrived as part of Will's entourage, wore it like a badge. What choice did he have? If he didn't want Will soaking his shirt in the hallways again, or what he did later, forwarding pics to the football team, his near-equals and player posse, before he fucked half of them to celebrate a 4th-quarter TD.

But any hopes of holding that off were misplaced and late. The wide-receiver had message alerts and his phone hit his hand from his thicc hip. The tight-end got the same copy, unlocked and viewed by brown moose fingers. They saw Wall drenched in full glory. Spunked on, down and disrobed on a yellow floor. Kneeling in piss is not even in the top ten of what Will had him kink out on for the laughs and dicks of his athlete friends. A look in his eye was like his soul's been turned to thirst, as they watch through the camera's lens, start betting pools on what their captain does to the pile of soaked strong dude. Eyes in the glare.

"Shit, I could do this all day," says Will as another stream lands on Wall's cheek, what used to be Jaeger, now golden leverage for the lesser great ape. Aim is true down the bare pecs as Wall's poses like a dog in submission. The shakes of Wall edge-riding nearly jig the frame through Will's arm. The latter knew his buttons like a digital safe. Will administered everything, right down to who and where he brought them into the brotherhood. Another few minutes and the vid would wrap only after more ammo of a whiter make showered him.

An open night brought him over to the simian guys' pad when Will was out running errands. Jerr tossed a dart with stripes to a board with checker motif... It shook on the wall with his middling throw. He gutpunched the air in front of him, celebrating; his tail brushed Wall's bare ass while their jockstraps bounced, a quick idea of 'uniforms' while trashed on Jaeger. Still standing - with vitality, even - they swayed and flexed for one another, or played with bulge between throws. Wall spoke out as his opponent scratched the inner thigh and very little shook. "You gonna pick his brain when he gets back? I would ask him before sinkin' that much cash on a toy."

"Gonna give him brain. Then I can see if he's good for it. Haah!" Jerr watched Wall's turn, who landed a smidge closer to the bullseye. He elbowed the chimp, getting a smooth chuckle, then felt up the little guy's buns. Jerr melted into simper for a brief moment, then stood low and limber like a boss. Back on his turn to toss, he closed one eye, stuck out his tongue and slapped the backboard with a fast near-center. There was wilding-out from Jerr while the final score was obvious; Wall was too busy visualizing the man on his way back to even care. Sugar daddy, before he hit year 20... Girth-laden, power packed into the black tee he was out in now... Buying them plastic lengths to sit on, until he could be back and plugging them raw...

Jerr had the strangest idea... While he wrapped up his clap and screech fit of victory, he dove his chest toward the midriff of Wallace, bumping from his lower height. Then he pulled down the jock and stripped it off, knowing Wall would take his off, the more important part. This done, he looked up with ardor. "Kneel right there, bro... I wanna dip my nuts in manbush..."

It was something not done on accident, differing as they did... But Wall saw how terse the monkey came across, no pestering. It was considered, and he knew it didn't mean anything. Jerr's a born and placated bottom... He won't see subbiness in it, so Will had dignity in some share that stayed. He rolled eyes - for mere appearance' sake - and stooped down, hitting his tendons, such a mass over kneecaps. His strawberry pubes lay at prime length from the floor; Jerr stepped right into the way with a grin and airy snickers. He delighted dipping those globes into ruddy wool. It was deep as a thatched rug; Wall didn't shave anymore, at least not as a giver. The back pass was sparkling at the same time. Sheer utility, he couldn't have that snagging so much poundage.

He asked quiet, "How's that feel?" knowing it was weaker with Will in wet thoughts.

Jerr angled neck as he tittered. "Feels like cloud niiine, bruh..."

And now was when Wall 'checked' himself, by shooting back with "Yeah. I know." Whereupon he rose to his feet again, switching places. Now it was Jerr's to rub his dick hair into the bigger nuts of Wallace. He whined closer to his typical ways... It was clear to Wall the match for this task Jerr made. He towered over Jerr and put all giblets in a pouring slide through Jerr's mat... But he couldn't put a rigid dick into the mix. Jerr lunged into a swirl around his back, licked his newest bro in a trajectory that hit lats, curved down the chasm at his spine where parted oceans of muscle... Came around the front and hit the cusp of a sausage with heft to it. Wall's chub was in Jerr's lips, then coaxed in by suction that loved the need. Wallace came to know why it wasn't up to snuff as much now... It was only when Will had him locked in, battered by a footballer. Taking wallops that 'stole' his power one by one... Truth lay closer to how he gave it away. As Jerr got down and went to town on his hot rod, it occurred to him he was shooting off slower than he used to, though it came on rapid by Jerr's dancing bobs. A gay player of the munk's type would never foul the mood with negging, but Wall knew one thing to be true with no cajoling: Will's his well to drink from. His hole-rocking splendour and quenching of the parched muscly ape, his portals, his inner man, outer, all at the willing service of a jizz god in a hard-charging sport.

Wall didn't wince, he braved the tip like a soldier. Only this tip was a Sharpie's. Will etched a line of blue above the backside of an over-6-foot fucksleeve, low where the crack started down. Letter after letter came to be, and the sub's head filled with questions of what they could say. Will placed both hands on the guy's hips to correct a lean. "Keep still, firecrotch. You'll know what it says when Les at the parlour makes it lifelong." He meant it, as Wallace stammered an 'okay'. Ink was cold and heavy, the guide for a tramp stamp laid above the cheeks he'd parted like a porn pro. Wallace guessed it would be about him, or something tongue-in-cheek like the shirt the QB wore right now in their pad: Will's tee tight as spandex on his gut read "Boys you can break, find out how much they can take. - John Mayer of all men". On the primates' couch it all came together sugared... The bungalow was comfy and Wall was glad to move in among his peer fam, where he felt he belonged. What skirt or other person could hold him down to his house, any more than these fun experts now? He carried a vibe through his beef when Will smacked his ass once, hard, loving. The pen lifted away. Letters were done. Jerr put a shutter sound through the room when he took snaps, and handed back to Will. More proof for the true alpha's teammates, or just his fave chaps in the student body.

Will held the phone in two fingers easily and rubbed Jerr's head, moving a cap and mussing sprigs of rust-brown out from it. Jerr swung his temple to "bash" the big guy's chest, took joy in its resistance. The ink would last long enough that Jerr could drive them to the tattoo shop. Thereby it would scream to the masses what mass got him bending in the restroom stalls between classes... On video, or when Will invited his kicker, his second-string, all of them to take turns and leave Wall gaping, a cum dump strong as Atlas while coughing bass, grunting with every pulse his dick refused to stop. Wall proved his mettle, his worth; he bowed twice as low as when he'd first pledged for the school, but with heart in it. He'd graduated to the real thing in no time; this tat would seal the deal. Permanent property.

He tried so hard for days and days to shrug it all off, like it wasn't part of his makeup unlocked. Wallace hearkened to the last time he went out with an old group of fellas, high school heads. The beer flowed and the jokes about cars, tits, exes, all familiar. But the whole night at the strip club it tugged at him... An itch in the same spot as a light soothe of pain, the same place he sat as a barely-18 doe grinded on him at their table. He sweat down his face, and the clique thought it was her thong and her sweater puppies... Inside of him, it was how the fake had dropped too far and can't be rebought. He'd not be stress-jacking later, for the first time after visits there. They all slapped his back and he kept up the charade, so easy to impress the straight bro's and their mundane cues. Her dives and rubbing on herself meant zilch. He'd been sniped by the other team... No denial would feel good to him now. It all came down to what he needed from Will. Rigid, violent, tapping that hole like it would bleed sap. Most days it ran white with a bigger man's batch. The very night he said bye to the old crew, he dropped in on Will and wound up in the shower, hands bracing on the tile, pounded to a stack of muscle-gelatin and praise words for the thicc top. Twenty ropes or so were packed in his colon like torpedoes... Later his seven-inch junk hit the ground, thumping it with push-ups. His arms shoved at the floor, bringing not only him to rise but the foot on his backside. Will made it a chore for him, heavier, and stroked with both hands what Wall's prize would be if he made the goal. "Hit 200, bitchboy. Earn master's faith and you get to suck the cream out. Be a punk and you walk away with goose-egg... Perhaps though, I'll only tape your mouth up and do a facial. Uncertainties." Will snickered. His heel pressed harder, more weight. Wallace cried out as his dick reached the edge; the only fuel was his working for Will, the bliss, obligation. He strove for it until there's no more withstanding. Then began a solid night of plunge. No breaks. No water.

When it came to Jerr things were hardly colder. Bro-love ran wide in this frat, with a prehensile tail. And still Wallace knew where he stood when he donned the cap of a dom' and showed Jerr's lust a reprieve.

"NN-nnnfhhh..." The monkey dude crooned. Twinkness went flat as he splayed over a table. Wallace railed that orange bubble backed up to him, he clamped down on both sides and had the skin ooze through his fingers, Jerr ALL flexible and down with this. J' laid his head to the side and sharp teeth called out for Wall. "Gimme yerr powerrr... Fuuuuck, G'!... Beat that bussy! Ohhh-hh..." The chimp made like a wimp, any dick that stuck in and worked at him. But Wall pushed rope. Gave these 'dice' a few rolls for his money, and it still fixed their craves, yet he couldn't give it how he once did. Jerr's a cockhound for the ages, and Wallace had heaven in plowing that tiny tan li'l manhole. He felt up on a gland inside while taking charge. So good only since the chimp has a mini-version of what swam in his brain now. Didn't matter, it worked but can't sustain.

He wrapped it up, once his thoughts found a fantasy of Will that had already come true: Licking PB off his monster, slathered on and salty as the loads shot before the shaft was even polished in full. It brought his brew to a head, and out the end of his, rising up Jerr's bruised little anus, the opening that squirmed and hungered and never tired out.

Wall yearned to hurt. To struggle swallowing. Or hold his face on a bedspread so the back end stops buying his yelps out loud. Jerr's spine lay straight and beneath, at his mercy, and the waves of pleasure-twitch encouraged Wall. At the same time he could see it all now, every facet, while his meat pulled out and he struck it with a thumb to fling the last remainder, coat the lean man's furry ass... Jerr could call his name and beg for more, and even get it, but Wall saw what should be done.

Half a week passed like a dream. In the mists of a heavy spring fog, Wallace opened the front door and in stepped his tankchested tutor. A box Will carried was tossed on the sofa... Its contents Wall had requested. Two hands clutched the redhead at his back, a close male hug that he'd have hated and fought off less than a year ago... Now, Will saw the dance of his eyes, the dewey lips and please-come-hither look in a face just a hair from his. The QB ran a finger down his vertebrae, sifted through the crack, stopped just lower than midway. Centered on the gland and rubbed; the protrusion he worked and found malleable.

Wall's sputter was a grunt and a bark... He knew how much his every move just screamed 'want' and was determined to stay the course. Will brought his lesser dude's mouth in with a giant thumb, made a kiss into a deep assertion, shoved a tongue to the hilt, swept Wall's about, really beat it in with love's aggression. After picking him up, bumping his black pecs on the sub's wood, Will asked while his cleavage soaked up colourless precum. "You're sure you want this? The nitty-gritty from your bossbro?"

The 7-footer nodded like he'd quit breathing if he didn't. "Fuckin' yeah. Sure as I've been since I left the nag." He squirmed, looking only at Will who pulled a freshworn jersey over his head. The very second Will's dark pits exposed, they were pounced on and huffed, licked, worshipped. And the athlete allowed for ten seconds but took all of Wall's scalp in one palm and yanked him back out. He would say it best when the man's in heat. "Drop those trousers, tall 'n' tiny."

Wall let the briefest whine through his long exhale. He unclasped his belt, unzipped and let the britches fall right there. Finally all had come to a head. After such a rich bitchdom for Will, serving swallowing and suffering, the large titan that was now Wall - beefed up to balloon-tier muscle by working for his meals of cock, earning more time with the beast cock by paying through benchpress - had urges to go the distance. His dick swung admirably, broke his mind with how hard it stood... But Will wouldn't tell him the truth tonight. "That's all, huh? No wonder you sit on my hipbreaker every fucking day." He reached down while the lighter cock jumped, one twitch for every heartbeat, three per second... In his mitt the overaverage manhood was nothing fancy. "Wouldn't write home about this one. Undo my clasp, beta. Remember what you miss."

Wall caught every multiple meaning; he moved by reflex, reached with both arms to the pants Will bulged from. Adorned with only one fastener, breakaway jeans. A simple slide unhooked them, and what started as a two-pound bulge slithered out of the fabric and loomed at Wall's grip, chubbed up, growing. Inside of Wallace a swirl of envy, hunger, respect for the wealth of it, they co-mingled. He brayed with defeat. "Man, I... I lose... From first roll o' the dice..."

Will stood so close his ape bro felt the nipple sweat steaming off, a vapor from chest hair, sinew, areolas. And while Wall wished so hard it came through on his face, Will taunted. "Which one? The game on that rainy day, or when you stopped being a zygote? I mean I have to keep truth at a 10... You never had a chance of this." He went up on his toes, came back to casual; just that amount of move had his giant meat 'nodding', up and down and tremendous. He saw Wallace bend with crave so harsh it was like cramping: Aroused but with tickles in his cock, butterflies for the groin instead of gut, like any man who felt true inferiority. Will spoke through teeth that started gritting. "We should delve into why, there's a reason."

This, Wallace didn't think of. He sputtered and stuttered and ran his hands over majesty with veins the size of cables. As it held up to every massage, pulsed with life and a strength he couldn't imagine, Will made words gutteral. Instructive. "First you do YOUR part. Unbox that gift, it's yours in the first place." His manbitch did, walking his huge quads over to the box. He yelped when pinched; a new mark to make his ass redder. Into the parcel he ripped, and soon the shape of a wire mesh device met him. Thick netting, sized appropriate, with a 'collar' going in a hoop above. It was made to fit on his pelvis... Heavy-duty, lock and key in a bag next to the main mass of metal. A brand new cockcage.

Will breathed down his nose, his neck, while watching Wall lift one foot, then the other, like putting on briefs. "Yeahh. You'll be the toast of the town in testo circles. Look at that pouch..." He pointed down at the hardon, Wall's tool that he'd curved and bent careful so it fit into restriction. The mostly-hard meat still pumped blood, but the blue routes were shrinking, going latent... They wouldn't be at full-mast for a long, long time starting now. Will took the same hand that pointed and moved it ever-closer, then balled up his thumb and index and flicked the big boi in his cage, inbetween the bracing, just enough dick in the open to do so. Wall growled, cussed, and cooed, helped Will's tool even faster, stroked it down hearty fatness. Erect to the fullest, Will sang a B-sharp, so aroused in bliss. Wallace felt his poor todger reach soft, and still felt even hotter than when it would stand and throb before. He felt cold in his asshole... Empty. IT would be the place for his horny steads now, receiver and whore.

Will was obeyed, so what he relished to think of came out. "You're a natural, wee guy... What's better right now, the fact your dick's unneeded with your purpose? Or that it makes the difference in our sling even greater with time?"

Wallace was too busy playing with Will's pornstar cock to reply. Will was fine with this, and crept his fingers around to the open glutes. "Mmmm. Honourable mention to the draft you're getting. That G-spot's gettin' hammered this week, dawn to midnight."

The taller man, the bigger bitch, gnashed fangs and whimpered; Wall melted when his alpha played with the hole. Will got to more scorching notions while tracing the circle... The drain for spunk that he packed tighter than tight. "Tertiary benefit: I can punish if you ever spill a drop. Presently it's 3 days on, 3 hours off... Be late with my tribute, and you go a WEEK with blue bubbling balls and daydreams." He nudged Wall's nose, and it was damp with tears that had gone through nasal ducts. They were of a sadness Wall took happily, his loss of the freedom to cum as he pleased. Accepted in full.Will owned that idea, not him. So the bigger man went on belittling. "One wonders if I should just make it permanent. It is useless, after all, next to what I do to you with mine." He filled Wall's hands with mass and didn't need to do shit, beyond letting Wall pine for the whopper... All the times it had fucked him already, the sore throats, the limping, the smell of jizz baked into his fur even through showering. For what it could do that Wall can't, for what it made Wall need like a junkie. For everything about its giant thick cut mass, picturesque and perfect.

Will teased him at more angles. "You'll survive. If you lose cocksucking priveleges, just butter your ass on a toy. Relief's hard to come by without this in your musky gash, though..." He had it up to Wall's cage; the cool steel felt so good from outside, while inside Wall's dick weeped pre like it cried to be forbidden and less and pent-up. Will put smarm right in his ear, wih the deepest whisper. "... I feel for you."

"Oh-ohhhhhhfuck..." The groan had no reprieve and Wall wavered as he wanted to beg. But for what? Nothing he wanted was for him, and some would never be. And he never realized, just before saying it, Will brought him to this moment, savvy that he'd be the one to ask. And ask he did, pleading. "Tell me why it is... You said... A reason... Tell me, stud... Horsehung fuck machine... N-nnnnhh..."

Will breathed and his 300 pounds of softbellied beef. Wallace sweat adrenaline right up his crack, just thinking of taking that over-8. Lunch repeated on Will just then, and he leaned his lips up to Wall - close as they could be without smooch - and belched hot air, a gale that smelled of beef jerky and weed. Wallace rolled eyes back in his head... He loved how it hurt, that the QB could do something so manly and still fuck only guys. More man than he'd ever act like, and Will was always gay! To wit, it was exactly Will's intent... What he said next sank in easier. "Ahhh, better. But I think you need to earn it more. Want the harsh truth?..." He pushed one finger into Wall's anus, the never-spot before he'd ever started hanging with that ex-straight. He went urgent with his talk. Masterful. "Who's boss again?"

It was a strain for Wall to talk, still fucked in the head from how a man who never screwed women burped manlier than him. But he did as told. "W-Wiilll. Will is." What a place to love being in... It felt so good to feel bad about his own masculinity now. Peeling away old rules like a banana. Wall would never have to impress chicks again. Not even other dudes.

"Again." Will softly roared, on the line between indoor voice and a shout. He placed one hand on Wall's shoulder, shoved it, where the beefy sperm addict fell to the couch. Squirming, reaching down to masturbate, then moaning when he realized he couldn't now.

Will fell forward and caught himself by both hands on either side of Wall and his pectorals right on the sub's neck. His teeth beamed in the sneer and low-lidded joy, rigid for that red ape. Hungry, demonstrating with a swivel, batting at the caged male with his prized own. Wall bobbled in his neck, just too much in trance for the sight of his hung warden's cruelty and glad to go ass-only for most of his days. Will made it obvious... His uke's dick was imprisoned, took out of use. But the balls were open; that cage had no cover for the coins. Footballer -bastard told Wallace to sit up... Now the sack bared its fullness, just prime for Will to kneel over him, thighs extending to knees on cushions either side of the besotted bro. Will took humongous meat and WHIPPED those balls with a head big as both together. The holler from Wall wimped out like a candle, into ook's that were still a man's. A broken one's.

Will crushed him. "Who's best?" Slightly different word for the same win. Something like an apple crashed onto Wall's velvety nuts, monster-tool to two fat cream factories.

Wall made his tone strong, determined to still be a guy. "Youuu, sir!~"

"Who's alpha?" Will tweaked the bro's nip. "NAMES, cupcake."

"Www-wwill."

"LOUDER. Who's the man in this room? Tell him."

Wall breathed so listless and horned up he couldn't bear to not be sucking that beast. "You, Daddy Will!!" Will's eye teeth vibrated; the old girlhound had throat alright.

"Aaaaattaboy. Who'd you used to fuck?"

"... Bitches." Wall could see where this led. Will positioned his manhood to hide the whole crotch of the contraption; Wall saw nothing past the cock above his.

Just then Will made his lips jut and extruded a ball of spit, where it fell to his meat. Wall didn't need a hint to coat it down, his hand was there before that ever could be asked. Will looked right straight in the fellow man's eyes. "And what are you?"

"A bitch." Not even hesitation wound up in the answer. Wall had felt this truth in the pit of himself. He'd stared at the deep green eyes of his master... But swift down to the point of their divide. Longingly. Jealously. Pleadingly as Will whacked his balls harder. Let his copious pre' drizzle the poor swelling bro in that cage. Will put his diaphragm in his sentence. "Finish that thought."

"A-a bitchboy, papa... Daaaamn I bow to that..."

"Good. Smart little whore of a male. All your snatchfucking only poised you to serve." He put his tip to Wall's clavicles and the heat off Wall's breath stung the tall's own gullet. Will led to payoff. "Real men suck cock, right?"

Wall held dire thirst and spoke with heart. "Riii-iight, master! I'm, I'm a man 'cuz I roll that beefstick down my tongue-"

"Wrong. Close, but wrong." Will dove his chin down to Wall's; their razor burn sizzled he ground that stubble on so hard, pinning Wall's neck to static. "Real men GET sucked. By the boys."

Wall's nipple got pinched again. He took the lighter slut's jaw in a hand made to grab footballs and rule the field. "Poor ex-straight slut. You still don't comprehend why you're less. You want that ass gutted or gums pulverized?" He stuck a finger in the mouth above clefted jaw... Wall wobbled in the legs. Will feigned waiting for an answer, but came to croon as he faked the boi out. "Kidding. It's the MAN'S choice. Tonight you stop walking for a month." Will licked his own hand and made it trace Wall's earlobe, then grabbed him at the nape like they were equal pals, which hurt so good after driving home they weren't. "One last thing before onset. I'll tell why you're not as much as me. The truth of why before you even touched this trophy the first time, yours lay smaller than mine." He wagged his hugeness, stroked it, frunting in joy for the feel of weighing big.

Wall purred on the edge of his seat, coming out with sounds he didn't know he could make. Anticipation made sweat. The posture made him hurt from the last bout of fucking, the sharp frame of sofa close on his assvent. He feels the fact that he was never as big downstairs. His maw was just a silent gap, listening.

Will's grin pervades and haunted him. "It's that you were into the skirts. Chasing womenfolk. I tell you, Wall-flower..." He turned a phrase about the beefo's rectum, thereby one chafed and chiseled cozy for Will's jizz. "Straight men don't get to have big cocks. Ever."

A passioned lie, plain-silly, and if Wall had the mind to be thinking at all right now it would've caused a laugh. But he didn't. Instead it worked into his perception, wriggled through his brain... Hit the 'feel' his top was going for and made him long to be gayer than any man. So he'd serve.

Will showed off everything he had; size, the perfect snip scar, balls like a tennis game, arms like girders. Soft curve of belly fat over a layer that could deflect ship cannons. All his assets he self-groped, played with, then got help by Wall's tongue in practicing need. Licking up the chest scruff. Smutting up a pink nose with musk so wet it was waxy. Wallace struggled not to grow his hardon into the unforgiving steel of the cage. This would be the norm now, typical... Weeks from now, years, he would sit on that throbbing keg of a cut massive dick and then drown his ache on a donut pillow, in the same "garment" six days out of seven. Maybe more. It would tarnish before he'd go a weekend without it.

All of this became scripture to him, as Will brought the message to its end. "And you never will. Forever. I'm fucking born to be gay, to preside over you. To be hung better. And to fuck your ass to smithreens, fill you with scorch. Always, my Hercu-letch. Hot weakling."

Upon that assertion he stuffed his arm behind Wall's asscheeks and fingered him deep, until Wall could only slide and ooze down to the meat, polish it with oral and slick it down for his own ass's ruin. Wall is nothing he used to be. Perhaps his genes were below Will's in one way but the mindfucking notion that he stopped growing due to how he dipped his meat in gash, it surrenders him. Inch after inch of penis clogs his mouth; he can't even make a note as it charges in down his throat and his cords. He lives only to please Will and that gigantic hairy cock... To warrant the ocean of male heat Will brings to him and works right out, stronger, finer.

He'd love on Will and that ass-pacifier that pissed, shot cum and thrummed for eternity. He had only menfolk in his nightlife now. Where Will called on him to fuck, he would, anyplace anyhour. Player boi found his home.

The Mustang smelled like sperm and XY sweat, everlasting.

~_The End._~