Bending Eli

[michaelnola]

Chapter 10: Only When He Said I Could (....Continued)

© Broken Boundaries Gay Erotica

“On your knees.”

My stomach flipped. I looked up at him. His expression was unreadable. Not playful. Not angry. Just matter-of-fact.

I swallowed and shifted, my knees pressing down into the soft vinyl.

Casper stepped closer. Unfastened his waistband. His cock was already half-hard.

He didn’t speak at first. Just looked down at me, then tilted his head slightly, like something wasn’t right.

“Take everything off,” he said.

My throat tightened.

“All of it,” he added, like it was obvious.

I hesitated, just long enough to feel the heat crawl up my chest. Then I stood. My hands went to my waistband.

Casper didn’t look away. He just watched.

First the compression shorts. Then the shirt. Socks. Everything in a small pile at the edge of the mat. I knelt again, bare this time, my skin already prickling from the air and his eyes.

My dick was hard — of course it was — pulsing now that nothing covered it. I tried to shift without being obvious, but I saw the flicker of a smirk at the edge of his mouth when it twitched against my thigh.

He didn’t comment.

Didn’t touch me.

Just stepped forward and guided his cock to my mouth.

It was heavy on my tongue, already thickening as I wrapped my lips around it. I adjusted my angle, flattening my tongue to take him deeper. He tasted clean, like skin and sweat and something unmistakably man.

His hand rested at the back of my head. Not pressing. Just there.

I started to move. Slow, deliberate strokes, letting the rhythm settle in. My own cock bobbed slightly as I worked, untouched but stiff, aching with every movement of my jaw.

Casper didn’t speak much. Just the occasional murmur.

“Slower.”

“Use your tongue there.”

“Good. Just like that.”

I could hear his breath shifting. Not panting. Just heavier. He jerked his hips forward once — not rough, just enough to make me choke a little — then steadied again.

My hand drifted to my cock. I stroked once. Then again. Lightly. I wasn’t even thinking about it. I just needed the pressure.

Casper saw.

He didn’t stop me.

His cock was heavier than I expected. Warm and smooth, thick enough to stretch my lips in a way that made my jaw tense almost immediately. I shifted my angle, trying to find the right position, not just for comfort, but to do it right. Whatever right meant.

I’d never done this before. Not for anyone.

But my mouth moved like it had been waiting.

I flattened my tongue, let him slide deeper, then pulled back to suck gently at the head. I couldn’t get over the taste of his skin, it was unlike anything I’d ever experienced before and it hit the back of my throat in a way that made my stomach flutter. My lips felt stretched already, my tongue working in ways I hadn’t practiced, hadn’t even imagined clearly until now.

But it was his cock.

Casper.

The man I’d been staring at for weeks. The one who touched my body like it belonged to him, who never smiled unless he meant it. And now I had him in my mouth. My lips wrapped around the thing I’d been dying to see, to taste, to please.

The thought alone sent heat rippling down my chest.

I adjusted again, cheeks hollowing. My tongue flicked lightly along the underside of his shaft, and I swore I felt his fingers tense slightly at the back of my head — just for a second. Then relaxed. Like he was letting me do it. Like he wanted to see what I’d do on my own.

I bobbed my head a little more confidently. Not fast. Just enough to create a rhythm. I could feel the saliva building at the corners of my mouth, trailing a little as I sank deeper. My hand came up, reflexively wrapping around the base where my mouth couldn’t reach. I stroked in time with the rhythm, matching the pace.

A small sound escaped my throat — not a gag, just a groan, involuntary and quiet.

I was getting into it.

Too into it, probably.

But I didn’t care.

The weight of him. The way he twitched slightly when I hit the right spot. The subtle grunt he gave when I swallowed just a little deeper. All of it sent electricity sparking straight down to my cock, which was still throbbing between my legs, rock hard, untouched.

I needed relief. Something. Anything.

So I started stroking.

Slow, careful, trying not to break the moment. My hand slicked easily over the head, down the shaft, back again. Just enough to feed the burn. Just enough to keep me from losing it too fast.

But I could already feel it, the way my balls tightened slightly. The heat building behind my navel. My hips twitching forward in shallow, embarrassed little thrusts into nothing.

I moaned softly around his cock, mouth full, head moving faster now as my own pleasure climbed higher.

And then—

Casper’s foot slid forward.

Not hard. Just a light nudge. The top of it pressed against my wrist, firm enough to break the rhythm.

My hand froze.

He didn’t say anything. Didn’t have to.

The message was clear: not yet.

He kept his foot there for another second, just enough to make sure I got it. Then he shifted back slightly, his leg relaxing as if it had never moved.

I let go of my cock. My hand fell to my thigh, fingers twitching slightly from the tension. My whole body was buzzing — my jaw sore, my abs tight, my cock pulsing like it didn’t understand why it was being denied.

Casper’s fingers brushed through my hair, light and slow, a stark contrast to the pressure building in my chest.

“Focus,” he murmured.

It wasn’t cruel. Just efficient. Like everything with him.

I adjusted again and kept sucking.

Harder this time.

If I couldn’t cum, I’d make sure he did.

Casper’s hand settled more firmly on the back of my head now. Still not forcing, but guiding. His hips began to roll just slightly: deeper, slower. I let him lead.

My mouth adjusted to the rhythm, swallowing as much of him as I could. My throat burned, but I didn’t stop. I could feel the tension in his thighs, the flex and release, the subtle shift in his breathing. Every now and then, he made a small sound — not a moan exactly, more like a grunt of approval — and each one sent another jolt straight to my core.

My cock ached. The skin tight, the tip wet, painfully swollen. My hand hovered near it like a reflex, but I didn’t touch. Not yet.

Not without his word.

Casper’s breath hitched. His fingers tightened in my hair.

I hollowed my cheeks and sucked harder, desperate now. I wanted to feel it. Needed to. I could tell he was close, his hips twitching, muscles drawn tight, thighs tensing with every pulse of pressure in my mouth.

Then—

He groaned low in his chest and came.

It hit the back of my throat in hot bursts. Bitter. Tangy. Sharp. I tried to take it, tried to keep swallowing, even as some of it slipped past my lips. My eyes watered, not from emotion but from effort, and I didn’t stop moving until he pulled back, cock slick and half-soft now, twitching slightly in the air between us.

I knelt there, panting through my nose, mouth still open, saliva glistening on my chin.

My cock throbbed like it was ready to launch for take off.

Casper looked down at me. Silent. Assessing. His chest rose and fell, the only sign that any of it had touched him at all.

I didn’t speak. I didn’t move.

I just waited.

He watched me — naked, hard, trembling on my knees — then finally gave a single nod.

“Okay,” he said. “Go ahead.”

That was all it took.

I gave myself maybe ten or twelve fast strokes.

And then I came.

Hard. Violent. My whole body buckled forward as the orgasm ripped through me. It hit my chest, my hand, the mat. I gasped, biting back a sound as it kept coming, more than I thought I had in me, spilling in thick, wet ropes across the floor and my stomach.

Casper gave a satisfied chuckle as my cum spewed forth like a geyser.

It was the most intense release I’d ever felt. And I didn’t even know why.

Maybe it was the wait.

Maybe it was being watched.

Maybe it was just him.

Casper didn’t give me long.

As soon as the last pulse left my body, he tossed a towel toward the mat. It landed in front of me with a soft thump.

“Clean it up,” he said, already turning away.

I wiped myself down — hands, chest, the slick streaks cooling fast on my skin and the mats too. My breath was still shaky, my legs a little useless beneath me, but I didn’t ask for a break. I just pressed the towel into the mess on the mat and bundled it quickly into the corner.

Casper was already at the rings.

“Come on,” he said over his shoulder. “Let’s see if you can focus on your training now.”

I blinked. “What?”

He didn’t answer. Just adjusted the straps and waited.

I pulled my clothes back on with hands that didn’t quite feel like mine. My underwear stuck uncomfortably to my skin. I didn’t even try to fix it.

By the time I joined him at the rings, he was already explaining the drill. Shoulders relaxed. Voice calm. Like nothing had happened. As if I hadn’t just swallowed his cum and exploded on the floor seconds later.

He didn’t touch me much after that. Corrected my swing technique once. Watched me fumble with grip a few times. Said “better” when I finally got it right.

And that was it.

Business as usual.

By the time we wrapped, my arms were shaking and my chest burned. But none of that matched the twist inside my stomach — the part of me still chasing meaning.

Casper packed up his gear. I stood by the wall, holding my water bottle like I was caught in a trance.

He gave me a short nod as he passed. “Wednesday. Same time.”

And then he was gone.

No comment. No smirk. No trace of what had just happened.

I sat on the edge of the mat for a long time after. Still sweating. Still hard to breathe.

He hadn’t kissed me. Not once.

Not even a look.

Not like with her.

That girl — the blonde with the perfect body and nightclub makeup — he’d touched her like he wanted her. Like she was a person. Someone he chose.

Me? I didn’t even know if I was a warm-up. A tool. A fucking receptacle.

But he let me suck his cock.

He let me come.

And now I couldn’t stop replaying all of it. The taste. The way he looked down at me. That wordless not yet from his foot.

This would definitely feed fap fantasies for weeks, months, maybe years to come.

And somewhere underneath it all, the question kept looping like static in the back of my head:

What am I to him?
__________________________________

Thank you so much for reading my story; I hope you've enjoyed! If you'd like to read ahead in this story, access extra content like images and bonus chapters or read my other stories you can do so here

I'll be sharing a new story from my site with you all starting this week after I've posted the next chapter of The Acquisition. If I did everything right, a teaser video should be below.

View attachment 181064841

Damn man--just when I thought things could not get more intense you just upped the game--Awesome writing man for sure---THANKS

 

[Miroto]

I am so excited for the next part and maybe next level of their gym sessions?

 

[BrokenBoundariesGayErotica]

Chapter 11: Hat Trick

© Broken Boundaries Gay Erotica

I pushed through the dorm hallway at dusk on Monday and felt like I’d swallowed a small sun. Everything in me glowed. My skin, my pulse, even the soles of my feet fizzed each time they hit the linoleum. I’d spent half the walk back replaying Casper’s low, satisfied grunt when I finally took him to the root, and the other half fighting a goofy smile that wanted to split my face open.

I must not have fought hard enough, because the second I tapped my keycard and nudged our door open, Mason glanced up from his bed and barked a laugh.

“Well damn, gym rat—someone’s smug.” He tossed his phone aside, propped himself on an elbow, and gave me a once-over that left no doubt he’d clocked every inch of my giddy aura. “What did you bench—world peace?”

“Shut up.” I slid my bag to the floor, hoping the grin would fade if I looked busy. It didn’t. My cheeks ached.

Mason sat up fully, messy blond hair haloed by the lamplight. “Seriously, you’re floating, dude. Good lift? Or”—he cocked an eyebrow—“good something else?”

Blood sprinted to my ears. “It was… fine.”

He smirked. “Fine doesn’t do that to a man’s face. That’s post-nut glow if I’ve ever seen it.” He folded his arms behind his head, pecs flexing just because they could. “Question is, did it happen at the gym or on the way back?”

My throat went dry. I realized I was touching my lips, like there might still be evidence, and yanked my hand away.

Mason’s grin spread. “Oh my God, it was at the gym, wasn’t it?” He sat forward, voice dropping conspiratorially. “Locker-room quickie with that girl who’s always checking you out? The red head who always has headphones in so no one will talk to her?”

“Dude.” I kicked off my shoes and turned toward my dresser, trying to hide the flush. “Drop it.”

“Not a denial.” He whistled low. “Respect. I’d shake your hand, but I don’t know where it’s been.”

I groaned into my open drawer and grabbed a clean T-shirt. No way did he know. He was just guessing—right? Still, my brain raced: was my hair mussed weird? Did I smell like Casper? Could he tell my throat felt raw from being stretched open—

“Whatever happened,” Mason went on, drawing out the words, “it has you strutting in here like you just aced exams and got a blowjob at the same time.” He laughed at his own line, then paused. “Wait. Was it both?”

I whipped the shirt over my head and faced him. “Can you not?”

He held up his hands, palms out. “Look, I’m only curious because you never talk about hookups, and I’d totally spill deets if you asked me. Bros share, y’know?”

“Congratulations on being an open book.” I tried sounding bored and failed; my voice cracked on the last word.

Mason’s gaze sharpened. “Seriously, Eli, I’d keep it between us. It’s just—nice seeing you happy. You’ve been tense since season started. If someone finally—” He made a vague gesture toward his lap. “—helped you relax, that’s dope.”

I managed a weak laugh. “I’m relaxed, okay? Can we watch the game?”

Mason smirked but let it drop. “Sure, man. But don’t think you’re off the hook. I’m like, a pro-detective.”

Tuesday crawled.

Morning lecture? Useless. Organic chem notes turned to hieroglyphs the second I tried to read them. My mind replayed Monday in high-definition: kneeling on the rubberized floor of the empty stretching room, Casper’s fingers tangled in my hair, the smell of his sweat…

I shifted in my seat. My cock thickened against denim, and the professor’s voice blurred into static. Outside, leaves rattled against the window like they wanted to get in and hear my dirty thoughts.

Afternoon was worse. Mason trailed me around campus like a friendly hound, peppering me with jokes.

“So…”—he waggled his eyebrows as we left the dining hall—“was it in a sauna? Please tell me you steamed up the mirrors.”

“No.”

“Storage closet?”

“Mason!”

He clicked his tongue. “Damn. Was it at least on a mat? Hygiene matters, bro.”

I rolled my eyes so hard it hurt. “If I say nothing happened, will you chill?”

He studied my face, unblinking, until I squirmed. “You could, but your smile says otherwise.”

I cursed my traitor mouth. Every time the memory surfaced, my lips curved on their own.

“Fine,” he said, slinging an arm around my shoulders. “Keep your secrets. But if you end up writing poetry in your notebook, I’m staging an intervention.”

The teasing should’ve grated. Instead, it spiraled me deeper: what if he could tell? What if a stray drop of Casper’s cum had dried on my cheek and I’d walked through campus with it? My body flashed hot. I ducked from under Mason’s arm and muttered something about study group.

He laughed behind me. “Run, virgin, run!”

Tuesday night I lay awake, staring at the ceiling skylight of our cramped dorm. Mason’s gentle snores filtered through the dark, each one a reminder I was two feet from a guy who’d hounded me all day for sex details.

Would he still joke if he knew the truth: how I’d knelt on speckled flooring under harsh fluorescent lights, the air reeking of disinfectant and sweat? How I’d gagged, eyes watering, and felt more alive than ever? How Casper had finished with a low groan, thumb brushing my jaw as if marking me?

A shiver rippled through me. My cock throbbed under the sheet. I pressed a palm over it, not stroking, just feeling the weight, proof that it happened.

Casper had said: Come back Wednesday, 5:30 a.m. sharp. We’ll pick up where we left off.

One day gap. Twenty-four hours of nerves, replay, and ache.

I squeezed harder, breath shallow, but didn’t allow release. Saving it felt like honoring the promise, like arriving hungry would please him.

I blinked at the clock on my phone: 5:22 a.m. The gym was half-dark, only the safety lights over the rings giving off a faint blue glow.

Casper was already on the spring floor, stretching in that black singlet that clung to every cut line of his torso. Chalk dust floated around his calves. When he heard my footsteps, he rose and tugged the straps tighter across his shoulders.

“Morning,” I said, breath catching slightly as I dropped my bag.

“Morning.” He stood and rolled out his shoulders. “We’ll be working through inverted ring holds today, with spotters if we can grab someone by seven. But before we get to that, we need to deal with the tension you’re always carrying.”

I paused. “Tension?”

Casper crossed the floor toward me, easy and deliberate. “You carry it in your body, your jaw, your hips. You fight every movement until I break it out of you. Last time, your performance only improved after we had our little session. Remember?”

I swallowed. “Yes, Coach.”

“Good. Then you know how we’re going to start.” He nodded at me. “Strip.”

The gym was silent except for the distant hiss of the ventilation system. I hesitated only a moment, then pulled off my hoodie, peeled down my sweats, and stepped out of them. My singlet was tented embarrassingly already. I slid it down, heat rushing to my cheeks.

Casper watched calmly, like he was evaluating my posture. “Hands behind your back.”

I clasped them. My cock stood stiff in the cold air. Casper circled me once, slow and clinical, before stepping in front and reaching for his own waistband. He tugged the singlet down to mid-thigh and let his cock fall free. Thick, flushed, already half-hard.

“This is for your athletic performance,” he said, voice level. “You want to be loose on the rings.”

“Yes, Coach.”

“Then on your knees.”

I dropped to the mat. The rubber texture scraped my knees. His cock hung inches from my face, and the scent hit me: clean sweat, something darker underneath. He palmed the back of my head gently.

“Start with my balls,” he said. “I want them wet.”

I leaned forward, tongue trembling, and licked slow along the underside of one orb, then the other. Casper let out a quiet exhale. I circled my tongue again, then sucked one lightly into my mouth, cheeks hollowing.

“That’s it,” he murmured. “Get every inch.”

I dragged my tongue further back, following the curve behind his sac. The taste deepened, manly and primal. My cock throbbed, untouched. I kept my hands locked behind my back. I could already feel myself shaking.

I dragged my tongue further back, chasing the heat where his sac met the base of his body. The smell changed there, stronger and more private. My nose pressed gently into him as I pushed my tongue lower, and I felt his thighs flex on either side of my face.

Casper’s fingers tightened slightly in my hair. Not to guide me. Just to remind me whose hands I was in.

“Don’t rush,” he said quietly. “Make it count.”

I didn’t need to be told twice. I took a slow breath, then tilted my chin and let the tip of my tongue find the crease just beneath his balls. He tasted like sweat and skin and sex. I dragged upward, just enough pressure to feel the slight resistance of stubble, then down again, tracing the same path. His cock gave a twitch against my cheek.

I stayed there for a while, licking softly, making a slow circuit from one ball to the other, letting my breath fan over damp skin between passes. My jaw was starting to ache, but I didn’t stop. Every time my tongue passed over the center seam of his sac, he made a quiet, approving sound, low in his chest, barely audible, but unmistakably real.

I could feel how hard I was. My cock pulsed with each movement, begging for contact, but I didn’t dare disobey. I kept my wrists locked behind me like he’d ordered.

Then I shifted lower.

Casper adjusted his stance a fraction, widening his feet. It was all the invitation I needed. I angled my head underneath him, breath catching in my throat as I stared up at the shadowed cleft between his cheeks.

“Go on,” he said.

I leaned forward and licked once, tentative, flat-tongued, over the puckered skin. He didn’t move. Just let out a low hum like I’d scratched an itch he’d been ignoring.

I did it again. Slower. Pressing a little more. The muscle there was taut, resisting at first, but not pushing me away. I circled it with my tongue, then gave a gentle lap from base to tip, tasting the sweat caught there. My face flushed hot. I was breathless. Shaking.

Casper’s hand slid down the back of my neck, palm heavy.

“That’s good,” he murmured. “Really good. Keep going.”

I buried my face deeper, licking in firmer strokes now, feeling the way his body responded—tense, then loose, then tense again. Each sound he made sent a shiver down my spine, and my cock dribbled against my thigh. I wanted to hump the air. I wanted to rub against the floor like an animal. But I didn’t move.

My only job was him. My mouth. His pleasure.

And the deeper I went, the more I lost myself to his pleasure.

Casper shifted his hips slightly, widening his stance just enough for me to press in closer. The backs of my shoulders brushed his thighs. My tongue moved in slower circles now, each pass more confident, more deliberate. I could feel the muscle twitch beneath me, could hear the soft catch in his breath each time I teased over the center.

He didn’t say anything for a while. Just stood there, letting me work, one hand resting on the back of my neck like he was holding a leash he didn’t need to pull.

I closed my eyes and let myself sink into it, into the taste, the texture, the heat coming off his body. I inhaled through my nose and filled my lungs with him. I didn’t care if I smelled like him the rest of the day. I hoped I did.

Every now and then, his cock would brush against my cheek or jaw, smearing a fresh drop of precum. I could feel it, warm and slick, but I didn’t change position. This was what he wanted. This was what made me valuable to him.

When he finally stepped back, I almost whimpered.

Casper reached down, took his cock in one hand, and stroked it once, slow. “Mouth.”

I rose on my knees again, lips parted. He tapped his tip against them, smearing precum across the seam, then slid in with a steady push. I moaned low in my throat as he filled me.

The stretch was familiar now, but still deep enough to sting. I kept my hands locked behind my back like he’d ordered, muscles trembling with restraint. My cock throbbed against my belly, leaking steadily. I didn’t move. I didn’t even breathe until he gave his first shallow thrust.

“Eyes on me,” he said softly.

I looked up. His face was unreadable, jaw tight, brows furrowed in that focused way he had when counting reps or analyzing a landing. Except this time, he was using my mouth to get off.

He rocked into me slowly, each motion precise. My throat flexed around him, gag reflex flaring and fading as I adjusted. Drool pooled at the corners of my mouth. I let it fall.

His hands never pushed. Just rested. One against the back of my skull, the other cupping my jaw, tilting it slightly so he could watch his cock disappear down my throat. His breathing got heavier, shallower.

“Don’t touch yourself,” he reminded me, voice gravel low.

I moaned around him in response. My thighs shook from the effort of staying still. My cock was a pulsing ache, dripping onto the mat. Every nerve in my body screamed for friction.

But I obeyed. Because he hadn’t told me I could do anything else.

Casper thrust a little deeper now, not hard, just enough to make my eyes water. His cock hit the back of my throat and stayed there for a few seconds, pulsing against the tight seal of my lips. I gagged, just barely, and he eased out again, slow and wet.

“Good,” he murmured. “You’re getting better at this.”

I wanted to thank him. I wanted to rub against him like a dog begging for more. But I kept my mouth filled and my hands pinned where he’d told me, fists clenched behind my back.

He started up again with that same controlled rhythm—deep, shallow, shallow, deep—like he was working through a drill. Focused. Measured. My throat was the apparatus, and he was perfecting his form.

I whimpered around his cock. My abs were already quaking. My dick was a rod of fire against my belly, dripping freely now. The ache was relentless. I didn’t know if it was pain or pleasure anymore. Maybe it was both.

Casper stroked my hair, almost gently. “This is about discipline, Eli. You’re learning how to focus. How to channel. Understand?”

I moaned again, eyes glassy as I nodded on his length. My tongue flattened under him with each pass, coating him in spit. My chin and chest were wet. I didn’t care. I could barely think.

The sound of his breath shifted. It grew sharper, more urgent. He was close.

His hand moved to cup the back of my head again, firmer this time. His hips began to move faster, losing that calm control. Every thrust landed with slick certainty, and the salt of his precum coated my tongue.

“Look at you,” he growled, voice ragged. “Fucking drooling for it.”

My chest trembled with pride and desperation. I held still as he took what he needed. My lips stretched wide. My knees burned against the mat.

And then he groaned. A sound low and guttural, dragged from deep in his gut.

He pulsed in my mouth. Hot jets flooded my throat, one after another. I swallowed automatically, throat tightening around him as he came. He didn’t pull out right away. He held me there, buried to the hilt, his cock twitching as he emptied every drop.

I stayed exactly where I was. Mouth full. Body shaking. My own cock a fury I could barely contain.

Finally, he eased out. A string of spit and cum stretched from my lower lip to his tip. He wiped it with his thumb and smeared it across my cheek. Not cruel. Not even possessive. Just matter-of-fact.

“Now,” he said, his voice steadier again, “let’s see how those rings look.”

Casper tucked himself back into his singlet. The same smooth, practiced motion he used when adjusting grips or taping a wrist. He glanced at the rings, then at me, still kneeling, flushed, sticky, my cock rigid and untouched.

I looked up, breath ragged. “Coach… should I…”

I trailed off. I didn’t know how to ask it. Didn’t know how to say, Can I please jerk off now?
Didn’t know if I was allowed to want it.

Casper raised an eyebrow. “Should you what?”

I swallowed. “You know? Jerk myself off.”

His expression didn’t change. “Why would you do that?”

“I just… thought maybe that was part of it.”

Casper gave a slight shake of his head. “I don’t think it was the jerking off that helped you last time. You didn’t perform better because you came. You performed better because you stopped being distracted.”

I sat frozen. My cock throbbed angrily against my thigh, still hard, still leaking. The ache in my balls was almost cruel.

Casper walked past me toward the rings, casual as anything. “Get dressed. Warm up with two static holds and one swing set. Then we’ll work transitions.”

I stood slowly, my legs shaking from kneeling so long. My underwear clung wetly to my cock as I pulled it up, the fabric pressing tight around the shaft. I hissed through my teeth, but Casper didn’t look back. I finished dressing in silence.

Training began immediately.

And somehow he was right.

I was looser. Smoother. My balance was sharper, my rhythm tighter. My core held steady through the holds. My shoulders didn’t flinch during the transitions. My timing clicked into place like it had always been waiting for this moment.

He spotted me without comment, adjusted my form when needed, and pushed me harder than usual. I kept moving because I didn’t want to stop. If I stopped, I’d think too much.

When it was over, sweat dripped down my spine, but the real burn was lower. Inside. Untouched.

Later, walking home in the cold morning light, I kept replaying it. The way he came in my mouth. The way I swallowed it all like it was routine. The way he didn’t even acknowledge my cock, like it wasn’t part of the equation.

My balls still ached.

What was wrong with me? Why had making Casper cum allowed me to work better on the mats? How could licking his ass and sucking his cock make me a better gymnast? I hadn’t even cum.

Maybe he was right. Maybe it wasn’t about cumming. Maybe the part that made me better wasn’t getting off.

Maybe it was serving him.

And maybe that should’ve scared me.

But it didn’t.

I loved every minute of it.

---

Thank you so much for reading my story; I hope you've enjoyed! If you'd like to read ahead in this story (currently at Chapter 16), access extra content like images and bonus chapters or read my other stories you can do so here

 

[BrokenBoundariesGayErotica]

Love this story! Can’t wait for more!

Already started reading the new story on your site. It’s gooooood!! Fantastic writing!

Great story!

Damn man--just when I thought things could not get more intense you just upped the game--Awesome writing man for sure---THANKS

I am so excited for the next part and maybe next level of their gym sessions?

Thank you all so much; I'm so pleased everyone is enjoying Eli's story and there is tons more to cum!

 

[Marco86]

So good!!!

 

[BrokenBoundariesGayErotica]

Chapter 12: Silent Witness

© Broken Boundaries Gay Erotica

Wednesday morning sunlight stung my eyes as I pushed open the dorm door, stepping inside feeling like I was glowing from the inside out. My whole body was humming, skin flushed, heart still fluttering wildly. Mason glanced up from his desk, earbuds dangling loosely from his ears, textbook forgotten the instant he saw me.

"Dude," he said with an exaggerated smirk, dropping his pen dramatically. "Seriously, again? What the fuck did Casper do to you?"

"Nothing," I protested weakly, face already burning.

"Nothing, my ass," Mason snorted, shaking his head, eyes glittering mischievously. "You look like someone ran you over with a good time. You definitely got laid. Who was it, Eli? Hot gymnast chick? Dance major? Wait, wait, don't tell me—yoga instructor?"

"It wasn't like that," I managed lamely, slinging my bag onto the floor by my bed.

"Sure," Mason drawled, leaning back with a cocky grin, folding his arms behind his head. "Keep your secrets, Romeo. But don't think I'm buying your bullshit 'just training' line."

He winked, utterly pleased with himself, and I turned away, forcing out a shaky breath as heat coiled tightly in my chest. I tried desperately to suppress the thoughts flickering behind my eyes: Casper’s strong hands on my shoulders, the sharp, low commands, his cock sliding between my lips...

Thursday and Friday blurred together into a dizzying pattern of early mornings. Each session started the same way: kneeling obediently, Casper’s firm grip guiding my movements, his quiet murmurs as he pushed himself deeper into my mouth, and then relentless, punishing drills that left me trembling, exhilarated, my performances improving noticeably each time. It was working, exactly as Casper said it would.

But there was a problem, a big one. Every training session left me aching, throbbing, impossibly turned on, with no relief in sight. Classes, gym, Mason always fucking around, always there, cock-blocking by sheer proximity. By Friday evening I was climbing the walls, desperate to find some space to release the frustration simmering under my skin.

Then Casper surprised me, texting Friday night that we’d have an extra session Saturday morning, later at 8 a.m., a small mercy. When I crept out of the dorm early Saturday, I was startled to see Mason already awake, lounging casually on his bed, watching me intently.

"Off for another round, Eli?" Mason asked lazily, a teasing edge to his voice.

"Just training," I muttered, slipping out quickly before he could interrogate me further.

The halls were eerily quiet, the whole building still sleeping off Friday night. As I hurried through the deserted corridors, I felt an uneasy prickle down my spine. The feeling persisted even after I glanced back, seeing nothing. Just my imagination, probably.

Casper was waiting for me, calm and composed as always, ice-blue eyes glittering faintly with that now-familiar predatory gleam. Kneeling became second nature, a relief almost, as my lips parted willingly, welcoming his hardness deep into my throat, tasting him, savoring the control he wielded effortlessly. Each stroke he pushed me further, trained me deeper, until I was gasping, shaking, beautifully wrecked.

As I rose afterward, breath still ragged, I swore I heard the faint creak of a door somewhere in the gym. I glanced around quickly, heart jumping, but saw nothing. Casper didn't seem to notice.

"Good work, Eli," he said softly, handing me a towel. "You're improving fast."

The rest of Saturday stretched endlessly, Mason lingering in the room, friends dragging me out, leaving me nowhere, no time to relieve myself. By evening, I was almost delirious, body wired, cock aching desperately for release.

Finally, mercifully, Mason left for the bars, and when I got home a few hours after he’d left, I was alone. My clothes were off in seconds, my back hitting the mattress, fingers closing eagerly around my painfully hard cock. My breath caught sharply, chest rising and falling rapidly as images flooded my mind.

Casper. Always Casper.

The vivid memory of him standing tall and calm above me, eyes glittering with authority as he guided my lips onto his cock, filled my consciousness entirely. My own hand mimicked that rhythm, fingers tightening around my shaft, sliding slowly upward, thumb brushing slick precum across my sensitive tip, pulling a shuddering gasp from my throat.

My tongue instinctively darted out, wetting my lips as if Casper were standing right there, silently commanding me to prepare myself for him. I imagined his scent, rich and heady, invading my senses, making my pulse quicken even more. My cock throbbed insistently in my grasp as I vividly remembered the saline, masculine taste of him, pressing insistently on my tongue, how he’d held the back of my head gently, firmly, controlling every inch that passed between my lips.

I stroked myself harder, hips jerking upward involuntarily. The vision of Casper’s lean, muscular body flexing as he thrust slowly into my mouth sent hot spikes of arousal surging through me. My throat tightened reflexively at the phantom sensation of his cock slipping deeper, forcing me to relax, forcing me to surrender completely to his pace, his pleasure. My own fingers mirrored that powerful, deliberate rhythm, squeezing tighter, sliding faster, matching each remembered stroke.

Casper’s whispered praise echoed clearly in my ears, the way he'd quietly murmured encouragement while guiding my movements. “Good boy, Eli,” he'd breathed softly, sending shivers down my spine. “Take me deeper. Show me you can handle it.” I whimpered softly into the empty room, hips lifting from the mattress again, thrusting urgently into my hand as I lost myself fully in the fantasy.

My breathing grew rapid, uneven, my cock slick and pulsing hot in my grip. My eyes fluttered closed, chest heaving as I pictured Casper’s fingers threading through my hair, tightening slightly to hold me still, hips rolling smoothly, his cock gliding deep into my throat. The ache of longing in my chest was sharp, intense, matched only by the throbbing desperation pulsing through every inch of my aching cock.

As the fantasy deepened, I let myself imagine more, pushing into new, uncharted desires that I'd barely allowed myself to consider until now. Casper’s low voice, murmuring darkly seductive commands, flooded my thoughts. “We’re going to push you further today, Eli,” he whispered, that wicked edge to his voice making my whole body tremble. “It’s time to prepare you properly.”

My heart raced faster at those words. My hand slowed slightly on my cock, squeezing firmly, prolonging the torturous pleasure as I envisioned Casper gently but firmly urging me onto all fours, the cool mats of the gym beneath me. I imagined his strong, sure hands sliding down my back, gripping my hips firmly, thumbs pressing softly into the sensitive flesh at the top of my ass cheeks.

A needy moan escaped me as my free hand drifted downward, exploring tentatively along my inner thigh, teasing closer and closer to places I'd never allowed myself to touch. The fantasy Casper spread me open slowly, confidently. I shivered deeply, vividly feeling the pressure of his thumbs sliding along my crease, opening me further, exposing me fully.

In my mind, Casper murmured softly, reassuring yet commanding. “Relax, Eli. Trust me.” I drew in a shaky breath, surrendering completely to the powerful image of him preparing my body. I imagined his warm breath ghosting across my exposed hole, making me quiver with anticipation. My fingers brushed tentatively against the sensitive entrance, sending a lightning bolt of sensation straight through my core. My cock twitched sharply in response, precum dripping freely onto my stomach, slicking my shaft as I resumed stroking myself faster.

In the fantasy, Casper pressed the tip of a slick finger slowly into me, stretching me carefully, deliberately, exploring deeper. My entire body tightened momentarily before melting into the imagined sensation, my hips pushing back slightly, welcoming more of his intimate touch. My fingers traced small, cautious circles around my entrance, mirroring the fantasy Casper’s careful, erotic preparations. The sensation was overwhelming, the newness exhilarating, each delicate stroke making my pulse hammer harder, louder in my ears.

Breathing ragged, hips trembling, I fully surrendered myself to the intensity of the fantasy. Casper’s finger pressed deeper now, gently but insistently opening me, exploring slowly, methodically. My own fingers pressed tentatively against my tight hole, not quite penetrating but teasing, testing, making my cock throb almost painfully in desperate need.

Casper’s quiet praise continued in my mind, filling me with warmth, lust, and an aching desire for more. “You’re doing so good, Eli,” he whispered, the voice in my mind husky with lust and dominance. “You’re opening beautifully. Soon you’ll be ready to take my cock.”

Those words alone sent a jolt of ecstasy tearing through me, driving my hand to stroke faster, harder along my shaft. I was close, teetering right on the edge of release, my entire body vibrating with pent-up tension and pleasure. My hips rocked upward helplessly, chasing the friction, craving the pressure, desperate to finally achieve the relief I’d been denied for days.

In the vivid theater of my mind, Casper withdrew his finger slowly, leaving me feeling empty, aching, desperate to be filled again. “Not yet,” he said gently but firmly, his voice sending another tremor through my entire being. “You’re almost ready, Eli. Soon you’ll have all of me.”

A desperate cry escaped my throat as I stroked myself feverishly, imagining Casper’s cock sliding back between my lips once more, deeper this time, filling my mouth completely. I could almost taste him again, could almost feel the weight and heat of him sliding firmly, smoothly down my throat.

But the fantasy shifted, evolving into something new, forbidden, and powerfully erotic. Something he had introduced me to that I now found myself craving. My imagination vividly conjured Casper’s strong hands gently guiding my head downward, past his shaft, lower and lower, until my mouth found the smooth, warm skin of his balls. My tongue eagerly traced the delicate seam between them, savoring the salty tang of his sweat, inhaling his deeply masculine scent.

I whimpered softly, stroking myself with renewed urgency, hips thrusting upward as my mind took me further into this intoxicating scenario. I envisioned Casper’s quiet groan of pleasure, felt the gentle shiver run through his body as I lavished slow, wet attention on his balls, licking and sucking lightly, teasing out every twitch and tremble I could manage.

My fantasy pushed even further. Casper’s confident grip guided me lower still, and I willingly, eagerly complied, tongue sliding slowly along the sensitive stretch of skin beneath his balls. His thighs tightened under my touch, a clear sign of approval that spurred me on, deeper into uncharted territory.

My breath grew uneven, ragged, as I vividly imagined Casper spreading his legs slightly wider, fully exposing himself, offering himself to me completely. My tongue found his entrance, and I shuddered hard at the imagined intimacy, tracing slow, careful circles around that sensitive, forbidden place. Casper’s low, approving moan echoed through my imagination, encouraging me further. I pressed in gently, tentatively, then more boldly, reveling in the way his hips shifted slightly to meet my exploring tongue.

“God, Eli,” he groaned softly, voice thick with lust, approval clear in every breathy syllable. “Just like that. Keep going.”

The words pushed me deeper into pleasure. My free hand gripped the sheets tightly as I imagined pressing my tongue into him more firmly, feeling the heat, the incredible vulnerability and trust Casper displayed by allowing me this intimate pleasure. My tongue stroked rhythmically, deeper, more confident now, relishing the way he shivered with pleasure beneath my touch.

My heart pounded relentlessly in my chest, blood rushing hotly through my veins, my own cock aching, slick, throbbing furiously in my grasp. I imagined Casper’s thighs trembling slightly as my tongue delved even deeper, savoring the intoxicating taste and scent of him, driving him closer and closer to the edge.

I imagined sliding back upward now, slowly retracing my path, leaving lingering kisses along his skin until my mouth once again enveloped his cock, taking him smoothly, deeply down my throat. His breathing quickened sharply in my fantasy, his hips rocking gently, guiding himself into the tight heat of my willing mouth, every thrust now becoming more urgent, every pulse of his cock signaling his approaching climax.

My own climax was building rapidly now, driven by the overwhelming intensity of the scene playing vividly in my mind, Casper’s body arching toward release, preparing to spill himself deep into my throat. My hand tightened urgently, rhythm frantic now, my breath coming in sharp, gasping pants as I felt the pressure building unbearably in my core.

My hips bucked helplessly into my hand, pleasure building sharply, heart racing toward a long-awaited climax. My breath grew ragged, gasping, my moans louder now, room spinning—and then, without warning, the dorm door slammed open.

"Shit," I gasped, jerking upright, grabbing hastily for anything to cover myself.

Mason stumbled into the room, eyes glassy from alcohol, gaze locked hungrily on me.

"Don't stop," he said, voice thick, rough.

Before I could process what was happening, he peeled off his own shirt, exposing a chest I'd secretly admired countless times. My heart slammed into my ribs as he stepped closer, eyes never leaving mine.

What the fuck was about to happen?

---

Thank you so much for reading my story; I hope you've enjoyed! If you'd like to read ahead in this story, access extra content like images and bonus chapters or read my other stories you can do so here

 

[michaelnola]

Hot and intense --you know how to write the words and create the action to match

 

[Syrusgold]

Mason and Eli! I think Mason can give Eli the passion he needs!

I don’t like Casper much.

 

[Rafael Carlos]

Th

Chapter 3: Sweaty and Wrecked

© Broken Boundaries Gay Erotica

By the time we hit the second round of drills, my arms were shaking.

Sweat clung to the back of my neck, dripping down between my shoulder blades, soaking the waistband of my shorts. My chest felt tight, lungs dragging in breath that never felt deep enough, legs heavy and sluggish no matter how hard I pushed.

Across the gym, Mason was laughing with one of the older guys, singlet long since pulled down, abs catching the sharp overhead light as he flexed and stretched. He moved like a guy who didn’t have a care in the world, all loose muscle and casual grins, slinging his towel across his shoulders and flashing that cocky, boyish smile that made half the team laugh along without even knowing why.

I tried not to look. I really tried.

But my body kept noticing anyway, even when I forced my gaze away. Mason’s arms — thicker than mine, muscles carved from years of practice — flexed easily as he helped adjust one of the crash mats. His messy blond hair fell into his eyes when he laughed, and his hips swayed with a cocky swagger a little as he walked, not deliberate, just natural, his singlet riding low on his hips in a way that made something crotch tighten.

I clenched my fists briefly, forcing a breath through my nose. Focus, Eli.

And then Casper.

Casper moved in behind me, his presence so quiet and sharp that it hit like a spark across my skin. “Shoulders down, Eli,” he murmured, voice low and unbothered. “You’re locking up again.”

My stomach flipped. I adjusted, shifting the tension out of my back, only to feel his hand land lightly at my waist. Firm. Steady. Warm. His palm pressed just enough to guide me, thumb brushing the edge of my side as he adjusted my angle.

“There you go,” he said softly. “Don’t rush. You’re strong enough to hold it.”

I swallowed hard, biting the inside of my cheek.

It wasn’t like he was doing anything special — just coaching, just spotting, just being the cool, competent assistant coach he was — but my brain didn’t care. My body definitely didn’t care. My cock twitched hopefully, thick and half-hard where it shouldn’t be, pressing awkwardly against the tight stretch of my shorts as I forced myself to hold position. The knowledge that my tight practice singlet wouldn’t leave anything to the imagination did nothing to help my agitated state.

My chest thudded hard as Casper stepped back, letting his hand fall away, his weight shifting smoothly as he moved on to correct the next guy. I caught myself exhaling shakily, trying to act normal, trying to remind myself that this was what practice was for, working hard, pushing limits, not… whatever the hell was happening in my head.

Mason barked another laugh nearby, slinging an arm casually over someone’s shoulders, his chest streaked with sweat, his grin wide and easy. His eyes flicked toward me briefly, just a glance, probably nothing, and I nearly stumbled over my own feet.

Focus. Get your shit together.

But it was hard to ignore how they both moved around me. Mason, carefree, loud, solid and familiar; Casper, sharp and smooth, every move controlled, every touch sending vibrations through my body, even when they shouldn’t have been.

I rolled my shoulders, trying to shake out the tension, but it only seemed to wrap tighter around my chest. My body ached everywhere, thighs trembling, arms sore, lungs burning, and yet, somehow, the real pressure was all inside my head.

And lower.

The third round was worse.

Casper circled in behind me, voice smooth and low. “Slow it down, Eli. You’re rushing the lift again.”

I gritted my teeth and tried to obey, feeling his hands settle lightly on my hips. The faint pressure made me shiver, my skin prickling under the thin fabric as his thumbs guided the adjustment.

“Better,” he murmured near my ear.

My pulse thudded so hard it nearly drowned out his voice. His body was close, just a few inches off my back, the heat of him bleeding through my singlet, the faint rasp of his breath brushing the side of my neck. I tried to lock into the movement, focus on the mechanics, but every time his hand skimmed across my waist or pressed at my back, my thoughts scattered like dry leaves.

Mason’s laugh rang out from across the mats, loud, easy, casual. I saw him out of the corner of my eye, still shirtless, his singlet peeled halfway down, straps hanging loose at his waist as he roughhoused with one of the other guys. His chest gleamed with sweat, his arms flexing as he lifted a teammate playfully off the ground, muscles bunched and glowing under the overhead lights.

I swallowed hard and forced my eyes back forward, but my face was already burning.

Casper shifted closer.

“Lock your core, Eli,” he said quietly, his hands pressing firmer against me, thumbs brushing across the narrow dip of my waist. I could feel the hard line of his chest behind me, the weight of his presence, and then —

A drop of sweat slid down and off the exposed portion of his chest.

I felt it land, warm and sharp, just below the edge of my collarbone.

Before I could stop myself, before I could even think, I reached up and swiped it away with my fingertip.

And like a fucking idiot, I flicked it to my lips. Just a taste. Sharp, salty, human.

The second I registered what I’d done, my stomach lurched so hard I nearly lost my balance.

Fuck. Fuck. What the hell was that?

I darted a glance to the side, heart rattling. Mason was still laughing, still slinging an arm around someone’s shoulders, but his eyes flicked briefly toward me — and I felt my face flush deep and hot.

Casper straightened, wiping his brow with a towel, his eyes skimming over me for a brief, unreadable instant before he moved on to the next guy.

Was there the faintest trace of a smile too? Fuck!

Maybe I’d imagined the whole thing.

My chest heaved as I forced myself back into the drill, sweat sliding between my shoulder blades, my cock pulsing helplessly where the tight curve of the singlet trapped it against my thigh.

You’re just tired. That’s all this is. Focus.

But the taste still clung faintly to my tongue, and the memory of his hands on my waist burned under my skin, no matter how hard I tried to shake it.

By the final set, my body was past done.

My shoulders trembled, fingers aching as I gripped the bars, thighs shaking under the strain. Sweat poured down my back, soaking through my singlet, making the tight fabric stick and chafe in places that had me shifting helplessly just to stay balanced. My breath came ragged, chest heaving, every nerve stretched thin.

Casper moved in close behind me again.

“Don’t rush it, Eli,” he murmured softly, his voice right at the edge of my ear. His hands landed at my hips, firm and sure, guiding me back into position.

I tried to focus on the movement, but then I felt it.

His fingers slid lower — skimming briefly over the snug curve of my ass — and for a moment, just a breath of a second, his fingertips pressed lightly into the space where the tight fabric of my singlet pulled between my cheeks.

My whole body jolted, heat flaring sharp and electric.

No way.

He shifted casually, voice smooth, unbothered. “There you go. Lock your core — feel where I’m pressing?” His hand stayed steady, fingers tracing lightly over the narrowest part of my waist before sliding up again.

I bit down hard on the inside of my cheek, heart slamming so loud it drowned out everything else. My cock throbbed hard and helpless against the tight grip of the singlet, trapped, aching, grinding faintly against the fabric with every tiny movement.

When I stumbled slightly at the end of the hold, Casper caught me easily. His hand closed around my upper arm, thumb brushing the inside, firm and sure. His eyes flicked over me briefly — sharp, unreadable — and the faintest quirk of a smile tugged at his mouth.

Was that on purpose?

I barely managed a shaky nod, chest locked tight, lungs dragging in breath like I’d just sprinted a mile. Mason’s laugh rang out from somewhere nearby, loud and casual, and I half-expected him to jog up and slap me on the back — but instead, Casper let go, his touch lingering just a second longer than it needed to before he stepped away.

I bent forward slightly, hands braced on my knees, trying to pull myself together. My cock was still painfully hard, the tight fabric of the singlet pressing every pulse and twitch right against my skin. I shifted awkwardly, praying no one was looking, feeling the sharp, desperate ache building low and tight in my gut.

But even as I forced myself back into motion, I could still feel the echo of Casper’s hand, the pressure of his touch, the faint heat of his body pressed too close.

I was absolutely wrecked.

The end of practice came faster than I expected.

One second I was bracing through the last set, sweating, trembling, my body one pulled-tight nerve, and the next, Casper was clapping his hands lightly. “Alright, that’s it. Good work today, guys.”

I slid off the bar, landing a little too hard, legs shaky under me. I pulled at the clingy strap of my singlet, trying to peel it away from my damp skin, every inch of me aching and sore. My cock still throbbed faintly, restrained by the tight material, my head spinning from the past hour of closeness, heat, pressure.

Casper was talking to another guy when I turned, but his eyes flicked toward me — brief, sharp, and maybe… lingering?

My pulse jumped hard.

As I wiped my face on a towel, trying to play it cool, Casper stepped closer. His towel hung around his neck, damp blond hair pushed back, the exposed stretch of his chest still gleaming faintly with sweat.

“Not bad today,” he said, voice lower than it needed to be. His eyes skimmed over me, casual but just a little too direct. “You’re learning fast, Eli.”

I swallowed, nerves crackling under my skin. “Thanks, Coach.”

He gave the faintest smirk. “You hold tension in interesting places, you know that?”

My mouth went dry.

He reached out lightly, fingers brushing the top of my shoulder as if in passing, but his touch lingered a heartbeat too long. “Don’t overthink it,” he added softly. His gaze held mine for just a second — unreadable, faintly amused — before he stepped back.

“See you tomorrow.”

I watched him walk off, towel slung lazily over his shoulder, his broad back tapering to a tight, muscled waist. My stomach flipped, heat spiking hard, and I had to bite the inside of my cheek to stop myself from groaning out loud.

Fuck.

How was I supposed to walk back to the dorm like this?

By the time I got back to the dorm, I was a mess.

My body was wrecked, my head was a fog, and my cock — fuck, my cock — was still half-hard, straining against the inside of my damp singlet like it was mocking me. I wanted nothing more than to peel it off, hit the showers, and maybe finally let myself breathe — or hell, jerk off hard and fast just to get the edge off.

But of course, Mason was already there.

“Yo!” he called as I shoved the door open, sprawled on his bed with one leg kicked up, still wearing his half-peeled singlet like he hadn’t bothered to fully change. His hair was damp, messy, sticking up at odd angles. His chest gleamed under the overhead light, flexing abs on full display as he grinned up at me. “Dude, you survived.”

I forced a weak laugh. “Barely.”

“Man, Casper was all over you today,” Mason chuckled, propping himself up on one elbow, the strap of his singlet sliding even lower on his hip. “Like, no joke, I thought you were gonna pass out or something.” He gave me a lazy grin. “He’s intense, huh?”

I rubbed a hand through my hair, trying to act casual. “Yeah… he’s, uh, thorough.”

Mason barked a laugh, tossing a wadded-up towel at me. “Understatement of the year, bro.” He shifted, stretching his arms behind his head, his whole chest lifting, his muscles flexing without a second thought. “Man, I’m starving. We should hit food in a bit. But you might wanna cool off first, dude — you look all flushed and shit.”

I swallowed hard, my eyes darting away, heat prickling under my skin.

Mason hopped up, ruffling his hair with one hand. “You good, man?” he asked, stepping closer. “You’re all red.” He smirked faintly. “You sure you’re not, like, secretly into getting manhandled on the mats?”

My heart jumped into my throat. “Shut up,” I muttered, shoving at his arm, but he just laughed.

“Relax, bro, I’m kidding,” Mason said, grinning, ruffling my hair like I was some little brother. “But, like… not gonna lie, you looked kinda wrecked today.” He flashed a teasing grin. “Who was getting you worked up, huh? Casper? One of the girls in class? You got a secret crush or something?”

I groaned softly, dragging a hand down my face, feeling my cock throb miserably where it was still trapped under the damp cling of my singlet.

Mason didn’t notice. Or maybe he did and just didn’t care.

He flopped back onto his bed, sprawling out with a stretch and a loud sigh, arms thrown over his head, shirt still off, abs flexing as he yawned. “Anyway, lemme know if you’re coming out to eat. I’ll give you a sec to, you know…” He smirked without looking over. “…deal with whatever you gotta deal with first.”

My face went nuclear.

He laughed softly to himself, kicking his feet up and tapping away at his phone.

I sank onto my bed, heart pounding, body aching, cock throbbing so hard it hurt, and brain spiraling.

Casper. Mason. All of it, wrapped tight inside me, raw and burning and desperate.

I pressed the heels of my hands to my eyes, sucking in a shaky breath.

Yeah.

I was fucked.

I flopped back on my bed, hands buried in my hair, teeth gritted, every muscle aching to just let go. My cock was throbbing so hard I could barely think, the damp cling of the singlet pressing every inch of it right against me, teasing every pulse and twitch. All I could think about was peeling the singlet off, grabbing my cock, and finally getting some kind of relief. But of course, the guy I’d been half-jacking off to in my head for days was now sprawled across the room, shirtless and glowing, grinning to himself like none of this was happening.

I let out a shaky breath, stomach tight, heart pounding. There was no way I was going out for food right now. I needed to get this under control first.

One of my fantasies was right there — and he was the reason I couldn’t touch myself.

Mason glanced up. “You coming?”

I shook my head quickly. “Think I’m just gonna chill for a bit. Shower. Rest.”

He smirked, rising from the bed and tossing his phone onto the blanket. “Uh-huh.” He grabbed a fresh shirt and slung it over his shoulder. “Take your time, man. Hydrate. Handle whatever you gotta handle.”

He gave me a mock-sincere nod, then added with a crooked grin, “Try not to moan too loud, yeah?”

I froze. My stomach dropped.

He laughed, already halfway out the door. “Kidding, bro.”

The door swung shut behind him.

I stood in the silence, sweating, stunned, still hard as hell — and totally wrecked.
______________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Thank you so much for reading my story; I hope you've enjoyed! If you'd like to read ahead in this story, access extra content like images and bonus chapters or read my other stories you can do so here

The tension is killing me.

 

[Deathfiregasp]

You write beautifully

 

[Brettdude3]

Counting the days…this suspense is killing me!

 

[fmbttm]

Chapter 12: Silent Witness

© Broken Boundaries Gay Erotica

Wednesday morning sunlight stung my eyes as I pushed open the dorm door, stepping inside feeling like I was glowing from the inside out. My whole body was humming, skin flushed, heart still fluttering wildly. Mason glanced up from his desk, earbuds dangling loosely from his ears, textbook forgotten the instant he saw me.

"Dude," he said with an exaggerated smirk, dropping his pen dramatically. "Seriously, again? What the fuck did Casper do to you?"

"Nothing," I protested weakly, face already burning.

"Nothing, my ass," Mason snorted, shaking his head, eyes glittering mischievously. "You look like someone ran you over with a good time. You definitely got laid. Who was it, Eli? Hot gymnast chick? Dance major? Wait, wait, don't tell me—yoga instructor?"

"It wasn't like that," I managed lamely, slinging my bag onto the floor by my bed.

"Sure," Mason drawled, leaning back with a cocky grin, folding his arms behind his head. "Keep your secrets, Romeo. But don't think I'm buying your bullshit 'just training' line."

He winked, utterly pleased with himself, and I turned away, forcing out a shaky breath as heat coiled tightly in my chest. I tried desperately to suppress the thoughts flickering behind my eyes: Casper’s strong hands on my shoulders, the sharp, low commands, his cock sliding between my lips...

Thursday and Friday blurred together into a dizzying pattern of early mornings. Each session started the same way: kneeling obediently, Casper’s firm grip guiding my movements, his quiet murmurs as he pushed himself deeper into my mouth, and then relentless, punishing drills that left me trembling, exhilarated, my performances improving noticeably each time. It was working, exactly as Casper said it would.

But there was a problem, a big one. Every training session left me aching, throbbing, impossibly turned on, with no relief in sight. Classes, gym, Mason always fucking around, always there, cock-blocking by sheer proximity. By Friday evening I was climbing the walls, desperate to find some space to release the frustration simmering under my skin.

Then Casper surprised me, texting Friday night that we’d have an extra session Saturday morning, later at 8 a.m., a small mercy. When I crept out of the dorm early Saturday, I was startled to see Mason already awake, lounging casually on his bed, watching me intently.

"Off for another round, Eli?" Mason asked lazily, a teasing edge to his voice.

"Just training," I muttered, slipping out quickly before he could interrogate me further.

The halls were eerily quiet, the whole building still sleeping off Friday night. As I hurried through the deserted corridors, I felt an uneasy prickle down my spine. The feeling persisted even after I glanced back, seeing nothing. Just my imagination, probably.

Casper was waiting for me, calm and composed as always, ice-blue eyes glittering faintly with that now-familiar predatory gleam. Kneeling became second nature, a relief almost, as my lips parted willingly, welcoming his hardness deep into my throat, tasting him, savoring the control he wielded effortlessly. Each stroke he pushed me further, trained me deeper, until I was gasping, shaking, beautifully wrecked.

As I rose afterward, breath still ragged, I swore I heard the faint creak of a door somewhere in the gym. I glanced around quickly, heart jumping, but saw nothing. Casper didn't seem to notice.

"Good work, Eli," he said softly, handing me a towel. "You're improving fast."

The rest of Saturday stretched endlessly, Mason lingering in the room, friends dragging me out, leaving me nowhere, no time to relieve myself. By evening, I was almost delirious, body wired, cock aching desperately for release.

Finally, mercifully, Mason left for the bars, and when I got home a few hours after he’d left, I was alone. My clothes were off in seconds, my back hitting the mattress, fingers closing eagerly around my painfully hard cock. My breath caught sharply, chest rising and falling rapidly as images flooded my mind.

Casper. Always Casper.

The vivid memory of him standing tall and calm above me, eyes glittering with authority as he guided my lips onto his cock, filled my consciousness entirely. My own hand mimicked that rhythm, fingers tightening around my shaft, sliding slowly upward, thumb brushing slick precum across my sensitive tip, pulling a shuddering gasp from my throat.

My tongue instinctively darted out, wetting my lips as if Casper were standing right there, silently commanding me to prepare myself for him. I imagined his scent, rich and heady, invading my senses, making my pulse quicken even more. My cock throbbed insistently in my grasp as I vividly remembered the saline, masculine taste of him, pressing insistently on my tongue, how he’d held the back of my head gently, firmly, controlling every inch that passed between my lips.

I stroked myself harder, hips jerking upward involuntarily. The vision of Casper’s lean, muscular body flexing as he thrust slowly into my mouth sent hot spikes of arousal surging through me. My throat tightened reflexively at the phantom sensation of his cock slipping deeper, forcing me to relax, forcing me to surrender completely to his pace, his pleasure. My own fingers mirrored that powerful, deliberate rhythm, squeezing tighter, sliding faster, matching each remembered stroke.

Casper’s whispered praise echoed clearly in my ears, the way he'd quietly murmured encouragement while guiding my movements. “Good boy, Eli,” he'd breathed softly, sending shivers down my spine. “Take me deeper. Show me you can handle it.” I whimpered softly into the empty room, hips lifting from the mattress again, thrusting urgently into my hand as I lost myself fully in the fantasy.

My breathing grew rapid, uneven, my cock slick and pulsing hot in my grip. My eyes fluttered closed, chest heaving as I pictured Casper’s fingers threading through my hair, tightening slightly to hold me still, hips rolling smoothly, his cock gliding deep into my throat. The ache of longing in my chest was sharp, intense, matched only by the throbbing desperation pulsing through every inch of my aching cock.

As the fantasy deepened, I let myself imagine more, pushing into new, uncharted desires that I'd barely allowed myself to consider until now. Casper’s low voice, murmuring darkly seductive commands, flooded my thoughts. “We’re going to push you further today, Eli,” he whispered, that wicked edge to his voice making my whole body tremble. “It’s time to prepare you properly.”

My heart raced faster at those words. My hand slowed slightly on my cock, squeezing firmly, prolonging the torturous pleasure as I envisioned Casper gently but firmly urging me onto all fours, the cool mats of the gym beneath me. I imagined his strong, sure hands sliding down my back, gripping my hips firmly, thumbs pressing softly into the sensitive flesh at the top of my ass cheeks.

A needy moan escaped me as my free hand drifted downward, exploring tentatively along my inner thigh, teasing closer and closer to places I'd never allowed myself to touch. The fantasy Casper spread me open slowly, confidently. I shivered deeply, vividly feeling the pressure of his thumbs sliding along my crease, opening me further, exposing me fully.

In my mind, Casper murmured softly, reassuring yet commanding. “Relax, Eli. Trust me.” I drew in a shaky breath, surrendering completely to the powerful image of him preparing my body. I imagined his warm breath ghosting across my exposed hole, making me quiver with anticipation. My fingers brushed tentatively against the sensitive entrance, sending a lightning bolt of sensation straight through my core. My cock twitched sharply in response, precum dripping freely onto my stomach, slicking my shaft as I resumed stroking myself faster.

In the fantasy, Casper pressed the tip of a slick finger slowly into me, stretching me carefully, deliberately, exploring deeper. My entire body tightened momentarily before melting into the imagined sensation, my hips pushing back slightly, welcoming more of his intimate touch. My fingers traced small, cautious circles around my entrance, mirroring the fantasy Casper’s careful, erotic preparations. The sensation was overwhelming, the newness exhilarating, each delicate stroke making my pulse hammer harder, louder in my ears.

Breathing ragged, hips trembling, I fully surrendered myself to the intensity of the fantasy. Casper’s finger pressed deeper now, gently but insistently opening me, exploring slowly, methodically. My own fingers pressed tentatively against my tight hole, not quite penetrating but teasing, testing, making my cock throb almost painfully in desperate need.

Casper’s quiet praise continued in my mind, filling me with warmth, lust, and an aching desire for more. “You’re doing so good, Eli,” he whispered, the voice in my mind husky with lust and dominance. “You’re opening beautifully. Soon you’ll be ready to take my cock.”

Those words alone sent a jolt of ecstasy tearing through me, driving my hand to stroke faster, harder along my shaft. I was close, teetering right on the edge of release, my entire body vibrating with pent-up tension and pleasure. My hips rocked upward helplessly, chasing the friction, craving the pressure, desperate to finally achieve the relief I’d been denied for days.

In the vivid theater of my mind, Casper withdrew his finger slowly, leaving me feeling empty, aching, desperate to be filled again. “Not yet,” he said gently but firmly, his voice sending another tremor through my entire being. “You’re almost ready, Eli. Soon you’ll have all of me.”

A desperate cry escaped my throat as I stroked myself feverishly, imagining Casper’s cock sliding back between my lips once more, deeper this time, filling my mouth completely. I could almost taste him again, could almost feel the weight and heat of him sliding firmly, smoothly down my throat.

But the fantasy shifted, evolving into something new, forbidden, and powerfully erotic. Something he had introduced me to that I now found myself craving. My imagination vividly conjured Casper’s strong hands gently guiding my head downward, past his shaft, lower and lower, until my mouth found the smooth, warm skin of his balls. My tongue eagerly traced the delicate seam between them, savoring the salty tang of his sweat, inhaling his deeply masculine scent.

I whimpered softly, stroking myself with renewed urgency, hips thrusting upward as my mind took me further into this intoxicating scenario. I envisioned Casper’s quiet groan of pleasure, felt the gentle shiver run through his body as I lavished slow, wet attention on his balls, licking and sucking lightly, teasing out every twitch and tremble I could manage.

My fantasy pushed even further. Casper’s confident grip guided me lower still, and I willingly, eagerly complied, tongue sliding slowly along the sensitive stretch of skin beneath his balls. His thighs tightened under my touch, a clear sign of approval that spurred me on, deeper into uncharted territory.

My breath grew uneven, ragged, as I vividly imagined Casper spreading his legs slightly wider, fully exposing himself, offering himself to me completely. My tongue found his entrance, and I shuddered hard at the imagined intimacy, tracing slow, careful circles around that sensitive, forbidden place. Casper’s low, approving moan echoed through my imagination, encouraging me further. I pressed in gently, tentatively, then more boldly, reveling in the way his hips shifted slightly to meet my exploring tongue.

“God, Eli,” he groaned softly, voice thick with lust, approval clear in every breathy syllable. “Just like that. Keep going.”

The words pushed me deeper into pleasure. My free hand gripped the sheets tightly as I imagined pressing my tongue into him more firmly, feeling the heat, the incredible vulnerability and trust Casper displayed by allowing me this intimate pleasure. My tongue stroked rhythmically, deeper, more confident now, relishing the way he shivered with pleasure beneath my touch.

My heart pounded relentlessly in my chest, blood rushing hotly through my veins, my own cock aching, slick, throbbing furiously in my grasp. I imagined Casper’s thighs trembling slightly as my tongue delved even deeper, savoring the intoxicating taste and scent of him, driving him closer and closer to the edge.

I imagined sliding back upward now, slowly retracing my path, leaving lingering kisses along his skin until my mouth once again enveloped his cock, taking him smoothly, deeply down my throat. His breathing quickened sharply in my fantasy, his hips rocking gently, guiding himself into the tight heat of my willing mouth, every thrust now becoming more urgent, every pulse of his cock signaling his approaching climax.

My own climax was building rapidly now, driven by the overwhelming intensity of the scene playing vividly in my mind, Casper’s body arching toward release, preparing to spill himself deep into my throat. My hand tightened urgently, rhythm frantic now, my breath coming in sharp, gasping pants as I felt the pressure building unbearably in my core.

My hips bucked helplessly into my hand, pleasure building sharply, heart racing toward a long-awaited climax. My breath grew ragged, gasping, my moans louder now, room spinning—and then, without warning, the dorm door slammed open.

"Shit," I gasped, jerking upright, grabbing hastily for anything to cover myself.

Mason stumbled into the room, eyes glassy from alcohol, gaze locked hungrily on me.

"Don't stop," he said, voice thick, rough.

Before I could process what was happening, he peeled off his own shirt, exposing a chest I'd secretly admired countless times. My heart slammed into my ribs as he stepped closer, eyes never leaving mine.

What the fuck was about to happen?

---

Thank you so much for reading my story; I hope you've enjoyed! If you'd like to read ahead in this story, access extra content like images and bonus chapters or read my other stories you can do so here

Finalllly!! Can’t wait for more Mason!!

 

[lmac0001]

I can’t subscribe to the patreon, probably because of the damn state I live in I hate it here

but incredible story! I guess I will just have to wait like everyone else

 

[sportytim]

So excited for the next part!

 

[cder]

Can't wait for the next chapter!!

 

[Blasiannn]

This story is so amazing

 

[BrokenBoundariesGayErotica]

Hot and intense --you know how to write the words and create the action to match

Mason and Eli! I think Mason can give Eli the passion he needs!

I don’t like Casper much.

Th

The tension is killing me.

You write beautifully

Counting the days…this suspense is killing me!

Finalllly!! Can’t wait for more Mason!!

I can’t subscribe to the patreon, probably because of the damn state I live in I hate it here

but incredible story! I guess I will just have to wait like everyone else

So excited for the next part!

Can't wait for the next chapter!!

This story is so amazing

Thank you all so much for the amazing feedback! Sorry it's been so long between posts. I was experiencing some online harassment from another author who posts on this site and every other site I post on. It caused me to take a break from sharing my stories publicly and responding to public comments as well for the most part but I've largely resolved the issue and will be returning to posting shortly. The harassment got in the way of my personal life and I wanted to get my head straight and focus on myself and writing for my site first but I will post again soon. I'm just playing a bit of catch up.

Re: My Patreon, what does Oklahoma have against the site lol? I've had a few others write and tell me they've had issues with Patreon. Some have had luck contacting support and getting the issue resolved, others say their messages go into the void and don't get answered for weeks. If you do get the account issue resolved, let me know and I'll do what I can on my end to ease the pain a bit.

Thanks again all for the wonderful comments. Next chapter is below!

 

[BrokenBoundariesGayErotica]

Chapter 13: Roommates Share Everything

© Broken Boundaries Gay Erotica

Mason ambled further into the room, his gait clearly impaired by alcohol… and something else I hadn’t seen in him before. He wasn’t his usual bro-ish, easy, friendly self. He was leering at me, my cock in my hand, staring back at him, his arm now braced against the wall to keep himself steady.

I tried to regain my dignity again and cover myself with the bedsheets but Mason issued another command that stopped me in my tracks, “No.” That was all he said. That was all it took. I left the sheets where they were, my cock pulsing in the air, precum leaking obscenely down my shaft as Mason continued to just glare at me like I should already know what I was supposed to do, what he was about to do.

He closed the door behind him, a small mercy, and then took a few steps closer to my bed. As he got close, I could begin to smell the alcohol on him. He’d hit the booze hard tonight, no wonder he was having difficulty standing up straight.

He came right up to me, where he could loom over me, staring down at me — and my still hard cock — and then he spoke again, his eyes fixed on mine like a weapons system locking onto its target. His words were slightly slurred, but his message was crystal clear.

“You’re a horny, horny boy, huh, Eli?”

I gasped, unsure how to respond. My cock seemed to know what to do though, throbbing incessantly in tune with Mason’s words.

“You’ve been getting real busy early in the morning too, and you won’t even let your best buddy Mason know what’s going on..”

His stare took on a distinctly devilish appearance as he spoke those words, like he knew more than he was letting on, and I was about to find out exactly how true that was.

“I really haven’t been doing anything special in the mornings Mas..” I began to say, but he cut me off.

“Naaaah,” he said. “You definitely have, bro. You just didn’t want to tell your roomie what was up. Even though he tells you evvvvertyhing. Even told you about that sorority chick who said she was a pro-deepthroater and then spewed on my dick right after taking the seventh inch.”

It was true, he had told me that story, not that I was sure I’d really wanted to hear that particular story. And he had been an open book about his sexual experiences generally, which had contributed to my constant state of sexual arousal and frustration the last few weeks.

My situation was different though. I wasn’t exactly conquering sorority chicks and putting my dick in every hot and willing hole I could find on campus the way Mason had been. No, I’d been spending my time splayed out on my back servicing my gymnastics coach and most recently, I wasn’t even getting off when I did it. I wasn’t even sure if what I was doing was sex or if it was just use or athletic training. Either way, it wasn’t on the level of what Mason did, strutting around, assessing offers, then deciding which girl would be lucky enough to feel his pipe chart a course down her tunnels that night.

I was also doing gay stuff, I wasn’t out to anyone and I wasn’t sure how friendly campus, or the team, would be to a gay guy, especially if they knew I was going down on the assistant coach four or five times a week. I mean, it was one thing to have gay friends, but we got changed together and shit.

“I— I’m sorry?” was the best I could muster in response to Mason’s accusation.

“Don’t be sorrrry, Eli,” Mason, mewed playfully, “be useful..”

What did he mean by that?

He stumbled slightly, his right arm landing on my naked shoulder for support and then his eyes locked on mine and he said it again, “Be useful…” slower, almost seductive this time.

“I don’t know what you mean, Mason,” I said.

“I know you don’t, budddddieee,” he slurred.

Mason sat down on the bed, his muscled, jock ass now pressing dangerously against my thigh, making my cock, which I’d almost forgotten was still exposed to him, strain even harder and drip another bead of precum from its tip.

“Remember that bitch, Macy, the one I’ve been talking about?”

I remembered her, but he’d never described her as a bitch before. I wondered where this was going.

“Yeah, you’ve been planning to get in her pants for a while, she’s really hot, I remember.”

Mason edged closer, shooting me a conspiratorial look, “Yeah. Her. She was supposed to put out tonight. It was all planned. We even discussed everything we were gonna do— consent, all that shit!” Mason pulled out his phone and began scrolling through a series of text messages with Macy that did indeed describe their lurid plans for a night of nasty fucking where she’d agreed to go a lot further than I thought most college girls normally would on a first plow.

“That’s fucking hot, Mase,” I said, trying to figure out where I fit into all of this. “She seems like a real slut. You’re a stud!” I shot him my best, ‘go you’ smile, trying to make things as normal as possible with my drunk roommate sitting inches away from my dripping, hard, naked dick.

“Yeah, except she bailed on me cuz she said I got too drunk!” Mason whined. “All that planning. All that texting and waiting. Duuuude. She was premium puss! I coulda had a nine tonight, easy but I waited for the eleven, ya know? I fuckin did the work, bro!”

In truth, I had no idea what he was talking about. I didn’t have people knocking down my door to fuck me like he did, so the idea of passing on a nine to court an eleven out of ten wasn’t something I was familiar with. Still, I was sitting there, exposed, boned up, leaking and he was drunk and seemed to want my support so I tried to be the best bro I could be in the moment. “That bitch,” I said.

“Right!?” Mason countered. “But you,” he said, “You can help me, can’t you?”

Sure, in that state, at that moment, for that gorgeous man with his baby blue eyes boring into my soul, I would have done anything to help him.

“Of course, Mason,” I replied.

“Yeah bro, you can help me,” he repeated. “I followed you this morning,” he said matter of factly, like he hadn’t just unraveled my world. “I had to know what had my roomie so happy. Whose pube was on his face.” My heart started to race and my dick started to rapidly deflate as the reality of what Mason was saying began to set in. He knew, he fucking knew, he had to.

Mason continued, his eyes never breaking contact with mine, a thin smirk spreading across his lips, making him even sexier to me despite everything that was going on. “I watched Coach Casper train you this morning, buddy. I saw what those early morning sessions are reeeaaallly about.”

I tried to think of some excuse, something that could reasonably explain what Casper and I had been doing on the mats that morning, but there was nothing. I’d been naked, Casper had been almost naked. His dick was in my mouth, I’d sucked his balls, he’d rubbed his sweaty asshole all over my face; there was no denying what I’d done. And there was no denying to anyone watching that it’d been an act of service — I hadn’t even been jerking myself off during, or after.

“Mason, I— I don’t know what to say.”

Mason put a finger to my lips like he was shushing a baby, “Don’t say anything, Eli bro, I don’t need your mouth for talking tonight..”

My cock started to get hard again. Mason noticed, chuckled to himself and flicked the tip of my rapidly hardening shaft like it was some kind of toy for his amusement.

“Brooooo,” he said. “I’ve never done anything with a dude, but you looked like you fuckin’ loved slobbering on Casper’s shit, and he’s at least as big as I am,” he said, groping his crotch to emphasize his point. “I know if Coach is enjoying that mouth, you gotta be halfway decent, and I’m still horny as fuck. It’s not perfect, but if I’ve got a dick sucker living right in my room…”

My dick was fully hard again and I was already imagining myself on my knees with Mason’s cock in my mouth, even though I knew what becoming my roommates cocksucker might mean. Mason wasn’t done though.

“Plus, Macy was gonna lick my ass for the first time too, and we both know you’re a little ass licker for coach and I’m not gonna miss my chance tonight, not when I’ve got youuuu here, right?” Mason started to take off his shirt as if that act were the ink on a deal we’d both just signed, starting something I hadn’t really agreed to yet.

He stood up and tossed his shirt aside, not caring where it landed and all I could do was stare at the rock hard abs and pecs that I’d been dreaming about relentlessly for the past several weeks. If Mason was looking for my consent, he got it when I shifted out of my bed and dropped to my knees in front of him. He responded by removing the rest of his clothes revealing himself fully nude to me not for the first time, but for the first time like this. The first time I could study him up close like the godly, fucking specimen he was.

His cock was big, even soft, surrounded by a tuft of curly blond pubes that he clearly kept trimmed but didn’t shave entirely. It was a manly but manicured look that was already driving me wild. His pink balls hung low and heavy and his cock sat over them like a pompous prince who knew he could have anything he wanted anytime he wanted it. And that cock probably had. It was about to have me.

I didn’t even wait for his command. I leaned forward, my breath already shaky, and let my lips graze the base of his shaft as I steadied myself with both hands on his thick thighs. I felt him twitch at the contact.

“Yeah,” Mason exhaled, almost a growl. “That’s it.”

I started low, right where his balls met the underside of his shaft, planting a soft kiss there before dragging my tongue underneath. His skin was musky and a little salty from the night out, but I didn’t care. I buried my nose in his trimmed pubes and sucked his balls into my mouth, one at a time, making sure he could feel every inch of my tongue on him.

“Fuck,” he hissed. “No wonder Coach keeps you around.”

I moaned quietly, humiliated and turned on in equal measure. His hand dropped to the back of my head and pushed me further into him, holding me there like he owned me, like this was something I should’ve been doing for him all along.

“Lick ‘em more,” he demanded, voice rough now. “Slobber ‘em up. Yeah, just like that.”

I sucked harder, feeling spit start to run down my chin as his balls rolled over my tongue. His scent filled my nose, a mix of sweat, alcohol, and something purely Mason. I felt his cock beginning to rise, thickening gradually, resting against my cheek as I worked. He started grinding his hips ever so slightly, feeding me more of him, even without asking.

“Get under,” he muttered.

I didn’t need clarification. I shifted my position, planting slow kisses down from his sack until my nose pressed against the crease of his thigh and my tongue found its way to his hole. I hesitated a second then flattened my tongue and dragged it upward, tasting the sweat slicked skin and hearing the deep, involuntary groan Mason let out above me.

“Ohhh fuck. That’s weird… and hot… fuck, keep going,” he said, one hand now braced on the dresser, the other back on my head. I felt his fingers grip tighter as I circled his hole with my tongue again, then again, flicking against him more firmly each time.

“Jesus, you’re a fuckin freak,” he said, laughing, his tone somewhere between impressed and drunk-stunned. “Coach really trained you good.”

I didn’t respond, my tongue was too busy flattening against his hole, dragging slow, deliberate circles that made Mason grunt each time I hit the right spot. His legs widened unconsciously, his stance now open and loose, letting me dig in deeper. I brought my hands up to grip the back of his thighs, using them to keep myself steady as I pushed my face harder into his ass.

“Holy shit,” Mason moaned, his voice rasping now. “You’re really eating me out. My fuckin’ roommate is licking my ass.”

I should’ve felt ashamed. Humiliated. But all I felt was high. My tongue was working on instinct now, flicking and pressing, alternating between fast little lashes and long, wet drags that had Mason shifting his weight and letting out these low, broken gasps I’d never heard from him before.

“You’re better at this than Macy probably would’ve been,” he groaned. “Fuck, bro… you’re actually making me wanna… fuckin’ back up onto your face.”

I whimpered softly into him, cheeks burning as I did exactly that: dug my tongue in harder, pressed my nose deeper into the curve of his ass. I could hear the slick sounds I was making now, spit dripping down my chin, my jaw starting to ache, but I didn’t care. I wanted him to use me. I wanted to be good at this for him.

He was leaning fully on the dresser now, one arm slack and the other clutching the edge like he was trying not to buckle. “Goddamn. You’re making me wanna fuckin nut from just that.”

I gave his hole one last swirl with the tip of my tongue, then pulled back, lips wet and swollen, chest heaving. Mason turned around lazily, a glazed, dazed look in his eyes as he stared down at me.

“You’re fuckin filthy, Eli,” he said, sounding like he meant it as both a compliment and a warning. “Now let’s see what else that dirty mouth can do.”

He grabbed his cock again, now fully hard, thick and flushed, and slapped it against my cheek. It landed with a slick thud that made me shiver. I opened wide, ready for him.

“Open wider,” he ordered, guiding the head of his cock to my lips. “C’mon. All that practice with Coach, I bet you can take the whole fuckin thing.”

I widened my mouth and let him slide in, the head of his dick heavy and hot on my tongue. He didn’t ease in slowly. He pushed, firm and fast, filling my mouth until I gagged.

“Yeahhh,” Mason groaned, “just like that. Coach’s little cock attendant.”

I moaned around him, my eyes watering as he fed me more. His hips started to move—shallow thrusts at first, then deeper, more insistent. My throat burned as I worked to keep up, sucking and slurping and breathing through my nose whenever I could. He grabbed the back of my head and fucked my mouth now like he meant it.

He didn’t slow down.

Mason had both hands on my head now, holding me in place as he started to thrust properly, his hips snapping forward like I was just a warm hole he’d found at the end of the night. His cock punched into the back of my throat again and again, and I could feel spit and precum pooling at the corners of my mouth, dripping down my chin and onto my chest.

“Fuck, your mouth’s so wet already,” he groaned. “You were made for this.”

I choked slightly, my throat fluttering around him, but that only made him grunt louder. “Shit, you like choking on it, don’t you?”

I didn’t nod, but I moaned low in my throat, sending a ripple of vibration up his shaft. His response was a shudder and a muttered “Jesus,” like I was doing something magical, even though I was just holding on and letting him use me. Every time I tried to steady my breathing, he shoved deeper again, reminding me that this wasn’t about me, it was about him getting what he’d been denied tonight. I was the consolation prize. And I loved it.

“Look at you,” he said, pulling back just far enough for the head of his cock to rest on my tongue. “Eyes all glassy, face a fuckin mess.”

I blinked up at him, cheeks flushed, spit dangling from my lips. He reached down, wiping it with his thumb, then smearing it right across my cheekbone like war paint. “You’re a good roommate, bro. Real good.”

He pushed back in, slower this time, and held himself there, buried almost all the way in. My throat stretched to accommodate him, and my lips met the base of his shaft. I could feel his trimmed pubes against my face again, his balls resting heavy on my chin.

He held me there.

“Breathe through it,” he said, almost kindly, but then added, “Coach didn’t teach you to give up, right?”

I tried to breathe through my nose, willing myself to relax, my throat spasming around him. My eyes watered uncontrollably, but I didn’t pull away. I took it. All of it.

Finally, he eased out and I gasped, spit flying from my lips as I coughed once, then twice, trying to catch my breath. Mason chuckled and stroked his cock slowly, watching me recover.

“Fuck, that was hot.”

I nodded, chest still heaving, my own cock now throbbing between my legs and untouched.

“Back on it,” he said, voice low and hungry.

I obeyed immediately, wrapping my lips around the head again, swirling my tongue along the ridge before sinking down. I gripped the base with one hand, stroking what I couldn’t take while the other massaged his balls. I sucked rhythmically, sloppily, my mouth filling with spit and heat and his taste. I worked him like I meant it—because I did. Because I wanted to impress him. Because some part of me needed Mason to want this again.

“Shit, Eli,” he panted. “You’re gonna make me cum so fuckin hard…”

His hips started to jerk harder, more erratic now. His grip tightened at the back of my head and he began thrusting with purpose: fast, deep, no hesitation.

“Fuck, fuck—don’t stop—don’t you fuckin’ stop,” he growled, sweat dripping from his forehead as he buried himself in my throat over and over. I gagged around him, trying to keep up, but Mason was beyond caring now. He was using my mouth like a toy, like something he’d paid for and wanted his money’s worth.

“Yeah, take it—take all of it, fuckin hell—”

His cock pulsed suddenly, deep in my throat, and then he was cumming. Thick, hot spurts shot down my throat and I swallowed automatically, barely able to breathe, barely able to think. He groaned, loud and primal, as he shoved himself in to the hilt, holding me there while the last few pulses spilled out of him.

I gagged once, then again, but Mason kept me there until he was fully done.

“God damn, Eli…” he finally muttered, pulling back slowly, watching a strand of spit and cum stretch from my lips to his tip. “You’re a fuckin beast.”

I dropped to my elbows, coughing, panting, my throat raw, but my cock still hard.

“Now you can finish,” Mason huffed as I knelt there on my hands and knees.

I rose and tried to turn so I could lie back on my bed and do my thing in comfort, but Mason had other ideas. “No. Do it there, on the floor. It’s better that way.”

I wasn’t sure how me being on the floor made it better, but I was so fucking set at that point, it really didn’t matter. I wrapped my hand around my shaft and got stroking. Mason stood over me and watched. Just like Casper had. I wasn’t sure I would ever get used to this, jerking off on command and under supervision, but it seemed like it was the only way I was going to get off now.

It was only moments before I was shooting another huge load all over the dorm room floor, spasming in the throes of ecstasy, barely able to hold myself up the pleasure was so intense.

Mason laughed at my performance and said, “Whoa bro, you musta really loved sucking my dick, that was a hella strong O. Clean up your mess and let’s hit the sack.”

He didn’t give me time to explain that it was actually days of pent-up tension that had caused my explosion before he got dressed and walked out of the room for a late shower.

I collected myself, found something to scrub my cum out of the bare thread dorm carpets and then played back what had just happened in my head and wondered how soon I could make it happen again, and, if it would irreversibly change my relationship with Mason for the rest of the year, for better or for worse?

---

Thank you so much for reading my story; I hope you've enjoyed! If you'd like to read ahead in this story (currently at chapter 18 with 3 bonus chapters), access extra content like images and bonus chapters or read my other stories you can do so here — Both subscription tiers are 10% off until early September.

 

[michaelnola]

Great writing and these two are always hot as fuck

 

[Maximilian19]

So fucking hot!!!