Pledges: Gay Erotic Stories (2 page)

Dayner, what the hell is going on in your sick little mind? Or rather, your very healthy big body?
“But if the dumb-fuck kid said he could be butt-fucked with no problem, why did you turn the whole fraternity loose on him? Surely by now, you guys must have had enough experience with anal action to know there are limits to what a man should be able to handle.”
“I didn’t.” Proctor shifted under Dayner’s steady gaze. “He did. Turn everybody loose on his ass. After the first couple of guys, the word got out and when the brothers started appearing and started to line up he insisted he could take on the whole frat. I tried to stop him, but, sir, have you seen that ass? It’s very, very, uh, tempting.” He sighed. “I admit, I should have known better, but we do have a couple of brothers who are noted for being particularly adept at anal—although they don’t take on the whole frat at once—and Sammy seemed to be having such a fine time, and the brothers were so, um, satisfied, and cheering each other and Sammy on. It was great discovering an enthusiastic pledge that was willing to give so much to be a fullfledged member of our brotherhood. I let my enthusiasm run away with me.”
His furtive look settled on Dayner’s crotch for a brief few seconds, and then quickly shifted. “Sammy has taken responsibility for his actions and I will take responsibility for him.” He sat up, his clear blues honed in on the advisor. “Discipline me. Not the fraternity. None of our men did anything out of line—that seemed out of line at the time,” he qualified.
Dayner uncrossed his ankles and spread his legs, thinking, settling his ass more firmly onto the edge of the desk as Proctor’s gaze drifted down the advisor’s well-maintained body. Dayner warmed.
“Did you fuck him?”
“No,” the Pledge Captain answered firmly. “I’m not into sloppy seconds. Or, more accurately, sloppy twenty-two seconds. I’m glad he’s going to be okay.”
“How did you hear that?”
“I called him as soon as you called me. That was the only incident that you could possibly be questioning. I wanted to hear how he was doing. I had no idea he had gone to get checked out. Poor guy. He’s really a sweet kid. He’ll make a fine member.”
“Yeah, I hear he’s got one of those, too.”
The handsome Pledge Captain glanced up from under dark lashes, a small smile spreading his full lips. He took a long moment to lock on to the advisor’s eyes, before his look fell slowly back down to settle on Dayner’s burgeoning crotch. “Some of the guys were blowing him while he was being fucked,” he told the thickening mound. “He seemed to really get off on that.” He looked up, his broad shoulders lifting. “But then, who wouldn’t? Kid shoots like a fucking fire hose. He’ll be a great asset.” He chuckled comfortably, settling back in his chair to scrutinize Dayner’s impassive face, his eyes traveling over the advisor’s stubbled jaw and slightly parted dry lips. Again, a look. Longer. “Is there anything in particular you’d like me to do, sir, to make amends? I’m willing to go the whole nine yards.”
“More like inches than yards,” Dayner muttered, taking a deep breath before continuing aloud. “What would you like to do, Proctor? What do you think I should ask as punishment?”
The young man slowly leaned forward, getting leverage to stand, his face brushing the faculty member’s now-pronounced bulge as he rose between Dayner’s spread thighs, his face inches from the older man’s. His heat washed over Dayner’s already warmed torso. “Well, sir,” he said, his voice low and his breath hot against the advisor’s face, “in the spirit of the incident, perhaps something of a sexual nature.” His hips settled against Dayner’s crotch, pressing firmly against the advisor’s bone. Both men were rock hard.
“Jesus, Proctor! Are you coming on to me?” Dayner’s low voice was stern and gruff. His muscular body tensed, but he remained solidly planted.
“Yes, sir, I am.” Proctor trailed a hand up to the advisor’s cleanly shaped chest. “Since your recent breakup, I imagine you’re not getting much these days and if I could help relieve that strain, perhaps you might look at the fraternity’s infraction a bit more objectively.” His hand began to circle over the sharply defined planes of the stretched polo shirt.
Dayner’s breath was sucked in sharply. “Damn, man…” His hips arched up to drive his boner into the Pledge Captain’s packed crotch.
“I give a great mouth massage…sir. A fantastic blow job.” His moist lips pronounced the words carefully as his hand rode firmly over Dayner’s pecs, then down his solid abs, and settled at his belt buckle. The junior’s chiseled body followed. He knelt in front of the advisor, found the zipper tab and drove it down over the formidable bulge.
“Not here in my fucking office. This is too damn cool,” the faculty advisor grinned broadly. “You know if we get caught, it’s both our asses.”
“Well, I know my ass. Let’s see what the big butch hairy dude’s is like.” Roughly, the kid grabbed the waistbands of Dayner’s slacks and jockeys and yanked them down. Dayner chortled as the cool air washed over his ass. His dick sprang up, slinging precum in the kid’s face.
“Jesus, you’re a big mother,” Proctor grinned, licking the engorged head. His lips ringed the throbbing stalk and devoured it.
Dayner gasped as the young man’s open throat encased him completely. Proctor’s nose drove into his pubes. “Holy shit!” The advisor’s big hands clamped onto the edge of the desk as his entire body stiffened, desperately fighting to lock his cum into his big balls.
“Mmmm,” Proctor hummed, his head pounding up and down the throbbing column of straining flesh as his hands roughed up the solid mounds of meaty buttcheeks.
“Holy…holy…” Dayner’s legs began to thrash as his body fought to climb higher, his arching hips driving his meat deeper into the kid’s already crammed throat. His big hands clamped the kid’s head, driving him down onto his dick. Jesus, he couldn’t be blowing his load so damn soon! He was so friggin’
hot
! Please, just a little while longer while this magnificent mouth masticated his meat!
Proctor’s throat stretched wide as Dayner, with a grittedteeth roar, shot his load straight down the kid’s gullet, his jerking hips punctuating the hot stream of creamy blasts that followed.
The cum smoothly disappeared into the kid’s guts, each swallowing clutch of Proctor’s throat muscles milking Dayner’s dick dryer and dryer. Finally, the big dude’s nuts were empty, his rock-hard body rubberized, his legs barely able to hold himself up. Rivers of sweat poured down his raw ass.
Proctor grabbed Dayner’s low hangers and pulling his face up, his firm lips stripped the throbbing meat of Dayner’s drained dick. He paused to suck out the last bit of jism.
“Jeez, Mr. Dayner, you shoot more juice than Sammy and he almost gags me. Man,” he chortled, “your stuff goes down like fucking honey.”
The faculty advisor grabbed the young student and mashed his mouth against the startled young man’s open lips. Their tongues instantly tangled as they ate each other’s faces.
“Damn, Proctor, I want your fucking ass, I want to suck on your tits until you scream for mercy, I want to suck your dick until my teeth drop out.” He crushed the young body firmly against his pounding chest, his head thrown back. “I’ve never shot my load so quick. I’ve never shot such a fucking load!”
“Quickly.” Proctor’s face was mashed against the sweatsoaked shirt.
Dayner shoved the Pledge Captain back to take a look at the grinning young man, not a drop of cum anywhere. “Good idea.” He yanked the young man forward, re-clamping his mouth to the spread lips.
They chewed and tongued, locked together as Dayner’s big hands found the kid’s jeans, split them and dug for Proctor’s meat. The throbbing greasy stalk was a solid handful. Dayner dropped and was on it.
Proctor squealed as the older man’s mouth instantly vacuumed his seed out of his nuts. He climbed, gasping, onto the advisor’s broad shoulders, ejaculating jets of jism into the man’s sucking maw. Dayner’s hands were all over his smooth bared ass, molding the mounds, caressing the cheeks, his big fingers stroking the puckered butt-button.
As the Pledge Captain’s jerking, thrashing body began to calm, his nuts drained, Dayner rammed a finger up the kid’s ass and a final explosive glob of clotted cream belched into the advisor’s throat.
Proctor collapsed over the squatting man, still suctioned to his drained dick. They both tumbled onto the wooden floor in a tangle of half-clothed, feet-entangled bodies. Dayner dragged the exhausted Proctor onto his chest and smirked into the top of his cropped head, his finger still firmly drilled up the kid’s pliant butthole.
“You wanna give me a facial every morning?” he growled. “My old girlfriend says I’m too damn dry and rough in the morning. I could use the moisturizer.”
Proctor snuggled against the still-thumping chest, his hand inside the rumpled shirt roughly massaging Dayner’s fingertipsized nipples. “So long as you let me also moisturize that growly morning throat. We don’t want you scaring the sleepy young studs.”
“I get sleepy in the afternoon. You think you could stop by to give me a little wake-up injection? Ram a young, hard dick up the old man’s ass to keep him alert?”
“And then you could fuck me so I wouldn’t fall heir to the same syndrome,” the young Pledge Captain suggested brightly.
The two men fell silent, assessing the time frame, their hands slowly exploring each other’s bared flesh.
“Damn,” Proctor muttered. “I’ve got a hell of a lot of duties at the frat at night.”
“Yeah,” Dayner nodded, “gotta keep up the good works.”
“Maybe…maybe if it’s not too late for the old dude, I could drop by after my good works at the frat and spread a few more good works?”
“Sounds like a plan,” Dayner grinned. “You might even bring over a particularly responsive pledge and we could check out what progress they’re making in becoming full-fledged brothers.”
Proctor jumped up, his half-hard dick stringing post-ejaculate that Dayner caught with his fist and tongued off his palm.
“Sammy is hot for you, too, Mr. D.! He would love to have you bone him.”
“Sure, I’ll be glad to ream the cute dumb fuck back to health. Bring him on.”
***
“How did it go, sir,” Semanski asked the Pledge Captain who had just blown a load up his butt and was now sprawled over his naked back. “As you hoped?”
“Better, Sammy.” Proctor roused himself to gnaw on the young man’s earlobe. “He was ready. I ought to send that broad that dumped him a bunch of flowers.”
“So I did good, huh, sir?” Semanski pressed his advantage, firmly tightening his sphincter muscles to snugly grip the Pledge Captain’s drained honker.
Proctor kissed the furry young cheek. “You did swell, you dumb-fuck pledge, thanks for coming up with the plan. I’ve had the hots for that dude for a couple of years and you pulled it off. Got me right in there. We’re gonna be sucking and fucking at least twice a day from here on out. I’m even thinking about hanging around for my master’s.” He nipped the nape of Semanski’s neck. “He asked about your butt. I told him you were more than willing.”
“Gee, sir. You’d share?”
“Wait’ll you see that dick, Sammy. You two could cum down the whole frat house. There’s enough for everybody. And by the way…” He stretched to kiss the teary eyes; his re-firmed dick driving deeper into the young man’s clutching butthole. “Welcome to the brotherhood. You’re the first. You made the cut.”
“You smart-assed little dumb fuck,” Semanski added happily.

The quandary followed me to college; preceded me, in fact, by forty-odd years. Because my father was a Lambda Nu, as was his father before him. Meaning, I had very little say in the matter of pledging. They were paying my way—paving my way, so to speak—and so it was either pledge or else. And the
or else
wasn’t an option.

And so on a warm, late summer evening, dressed in my best slacks and short-sleeved button-down, I waited at the top of the driveway, staring at the well-lit, antebellum-style house with white columns sparkling beneath the floodlights. Twenty other freshmen stood on either side of me, more groups just like mine standing in front of every house on the row, all waiting to rush.

Except, suffice it to say, this was the only house I’d be visiting.
And then the horn blared, my heart leaping to my throat, as the bunch of us finally made our way down. The house was a symphony of shouting and cheering brothers, the group of freshmen all quiet, lambs to the slaughter. Me especially. Poor little lamb.
Little queer lamb that is. Hence the quandary.
It was hard enough, emphasis on the hard, being closeted in high school. What would four years in a fraternity be like?
Still, it was easy to get caught up in rush, in the whole übertestosterone of it all. Plus, and this was a big old plus, they were already expecting me, eagerly waiting to meet me as soon as I walked in.
“Matt!” said Steve, the president of the fraternity, all smiles and hearty handshakes. “We’ve been looking forward to meeting you.” I locked eyes with him, his steely blue; he was super handsome, athletic, with a five o’clock shadow that probably started sprouting just after he shaved.
The pleasure’s all mine,
I thought, belly suddenly gurgling.
I blushed, at his comment, at his eagerness to meet me, at his sweaty hand in mine. “Um, you have?”
He nodded as three more brothers joined in, all of them grinning, patting my back like I’d just scored the winning touchdown. “Sure,” Steve said. “A double legacy is a rare thing.”
I tilted my head. “Legacy?” I asked, the word new to me. Still, I figured out quickly enough what he was implying. “Oh, because my father was a brother here?”
“And your grandfather, too,” he replied. “Like I said, pretty rare.”
More brothers joined the fray, each one handing me off to a new group, all of them already knowing who I was. What I was. At least the legacy part. The gay thing, well, I suppose I hid that well enough. But for how long? That was the milliondollar question.
In any case, the hour flew by and the next group of freshmen was already lined up at the top of the driveway. Steve stopped me at the door as I was getting ready to leave. “Nice to have met you, Matt,” he said, the smile frozen to his face. “Hope to see you back here at the end of rush, okay?”
I merely nodded and hightailed it out of there. All those hot dudes were making my head swim and my slacks get tight around the crotch.
Four years?
I thought.
How will I ever make it through?
And, yet, I had little choice. Pay or play, as my dad implied. And so I played. And pledged, the very next week, the beer flowing like the Mississippi, fast and furious. Gone were the slacks and button-downs, everyone in ripped shorts and torn sweats instead, and tank tops that did little to keep nipples covered, or, for that matter, Steve’s thick matting of chest hair.
“Matt!” he hollered upon seeing me, mitt of a hand grabbing my shoulder, the smell of beer wafting off of him. “Congrats, dude!”
He handed me a mega-cup, the froth spilling over the edge. I took a swig and burped. “Glad to be here,” I replied, honestly meaning it. Because it was easy to get swept up in the moment, in the camaraderie, in that special feeling of brotherhood that both my father and grandfather had told me about.
“Damned straight,” he added, patting my shoulder, the word swirling around my brain as I downed half the cup.
Straight. Lord help me.
In any case, the beer, like that mighty Mississippi, kept right on flowing, until I got too drunk to care. Heck, it even drowned out the horniness. Almost. Because, come on, a house full of hot drunk dudes was a lot to handle for a randy teenager like myself. And Steve was the hardest to ignore out of all of them. And not because he was the drunkest. No, there was something else there, something setting my bells and whistles off, causing the steam to build up despite the vast quantities of alcohol that tried and failed to tamp it on down.
“Hey, Matt,” he said, hours into our drunken revelry, his words slurring just a bit, eyes barely focusing now, his hand ever-present on my shoulder. “Come ’ere, I want to show you somethin’.”
I smiled, teetering just a bit now. “Where to, Steve?” I asked.
“My room,” he said, already leading me down a crowded hallway. “Got somethin’ neat for you to see.”
My cock swelled at the thought.
Your room? Alone?
In any case, I had little to say in the matter. Steve was twenty pounds heavier than me, and all of it muscle. Meaning, I was heading to his room. And then entering a few minutes later, the door quickly closed behind us, the sound of the party instantly muted behind thick wood. And speaking of thick wood, I tried to cover my own up by sitting down and crossing my legs. “What did you want to show me?” I asked, staring up at him, the words coming out all squeaky.
He snapped his fingers and then dropped to his knees, to pull something out from beneath the futon I was sitting on. I stared at his ass, the hairy crack coming teasingly into view as he searched for whatever it was that he wanted me to see. “Here it is!” he said, turning around, sitting on the floor now, a book being handed my way, thin and age-worn, the leather binding barely still intact.
I took it and read the cover. “Lambda Nu. Nineteen-sixtynine.” I looked back at him, at the smile that was still wide on his handsome, stubble face. “What’s this?”
He nodded and pointed at it. “Fraternity album. We make one every year. That’s your dad’s senior year.” He hiccuped, the smile growing brighter. “My dad’s, too.”
I smiled back. “You’re a legacy like me?”
He nodded. “Yup. Pretty cool, huh?”
In fact, it was. Mainly because I’d never seen pictures of my dad before he married my mom or when he wasn’t a baby. And so I flipped open the book, just as Steve got up and then promptly sat down next to me, hairy leg to hairy leg. I gulped and tried to ignore the contact, the flesh on flesh, the hair tickling my knee.
And then there he was, unmistakable. Me with long hair, flashing a peace sign, all in black-and-white.
“Holy fuck,” said Steve. “That your dad?”
I nodded and grinned. “Hard to believe.” Especially out of his standard Brooks Brother’s suits and monochromatic ties. Times, it seemed, really had changed, and him right along with them.
Steve turned his head my way. “That’s my dad standing next to him!”
I looked back down at the book. In fact, the guy next to my dad was a dead ringer for the guy sitting next to me. Except maybe that Steve was even more stunning. In any case, I kept flipping through the book, pictures of my dad sprinkled throughout, playing sports, drinking beer, mugging for the camera, and almost always with Steve’s dad right next to him, usually shoulder to shoulder, almost always somehow touching. “Guess they were good friends,” I commented.
Steve nodded and burped, loudly, the smell of beer pervasive. “
Best
friends, by the looks of things.” He chuckled, the sound deep and resonating. “Twenty years ago, they were probably sitting in this very room, or nearby at least, drinking beer and getting drunk, just like us.”
“Nineteen-sixty-nine,” I said. “Or high rather than drunk, more than likely.” As odd a thought as that sounded. Then again, after seeing all the pictures, I guessed I had my dad wrong all this time, so what was one more surprise? “And now their sons are doing the same thing.”
Then the room got strangely quiet, the only noise that of the party still going on strong outside. “Uh, maybe not the same thing, dude,” he eventually said.
I scratched my chin. “What’s that supposed to mean?” I looked his way, his face a mere few inches from my own, eyes a startling blue, if not just a tad bit bleary.
He opened the book again and pointed at his dad. “Gus, my pops, he’s, uh…he came, uh…he
came out
about ten years ago.”
My stomach lurched, the booze suddenly rising up in my belly. “Out?” I managed.
Steve nodded, again turning my way, chest suddenly rising and falling. “Gay,” he said.
“Gay?” I repeated. “Your dad is gay?”
The nod repeated, his eyes never leaving mine. “And the two of them look, well, awfully close in this here book.”
I fell back on the futon, my eyes shut tight. This wasn’t yet another surprise that I could handle. Hippy dad, sure. Gay dad, no way. Still, I had to laugh. “Wonder what else they were doing in this room twenty years ago.” Only, there wasn’t an answer. All I could hear was his heavy breathing and the sound of the party from the hallway. When I popped my eyes open, Steve was still staring my way. “What?” I asked.
He shook his head and grinned. “Apple doesn’t fall too far from the tree, dude.”
My heart rate suddenly picked up speed. “Which apple?” And then it galloped through a furlong as he placed his hand on my knee.
“Same apple, dude. Same tree.”
I gulped. “No fucking way.”
He nodded, his hand inching up, fingers working their way up inside my shorts. “Way.”
“But you’re the president of the fraternity,” I said, watching his hand disappear before feeling it come to rest on my burgeoning stiffy.
“This means, as a pledge, you need to do whatever I tell you to do, dude.” Suddenly, he sounded a whole lot more sober. His hand squeezed my package as a million butterflies set wing inside my belly.
I looked up at him and nodded, then gulped. “Such as?”
His hand slid out of my shorts before he stood up, wobbling just a bit as he stared down at me. “You’re sweating,” he said, the grin returning. “Is it hot in here or what?”
I nodded. “Getting there.”
His nod echoed mine. And then he reached for the bottom trim of his shirt, yanking it up and off in one fluid motion, etched belly madly rising and falling, chest, too. All of it covered in a fuzzy black down, the same fuzz poking out from within his shorts. “Your turn,” he said, pointing at my own shirt, which was, as he’d implied, sweat-soaked.
I paused, but did as he told me. After all, I was a pledge and he was a brother. Two seconds later, we were both shirtless, both of us breathing rather heavily. I reached up and ran my hand through the sparse sprinkling of hair that covered my chest. “Guess I have a ways to go, huh?”
He aped my gesture, his fingers traveling through the dense forest. “A long ways,” he said, the chuckle returning, tinged with something else now, something heavier. “What about lower down?” I nodded at the comment and my hand went to my belly, to the love trail, also sparse, just a thin line of blondish fuzz. “Lower, I meant,” he added.
“Lower?” I repeated, and the top button of my shorts popped open, the second one following, the denim parting to reveal cottony briefs, which also got pushed a bit down. “Like this?”
“Hairier there,” he made note, staring at my bush, which indeed it was. Hairier.
“And you?”
His hands reached for his shorts, the button opened, the zipper slid down, his bush quickly revealed. “Looks like I got you beat there, too, dude.”
I anticipated the next command, kicking off my sneakers and sliding out of my shorts, until I was sitting there in my tenting underwear and socks. “Best guess, dude, your legs are way hairier, too.”
He nodded, his shorts dropped. “You’re not even close.” He smiled, shoes off, shorts kicked to the side.
Both of us were smiling, eager for the last bit of this contest of ours. And, yet, my smile was just a tad bit brighter. See, I had an ace up my sleeve. Or, at least, down my briefs. And an ace equals one or eleven. And my own eleven was now standing at rapt attention, the briefs on the floor, his jaw dropping and joining them there.
“Whoa,” he said, with a groan. “How do you have any blood left in the rest of you?”
I pulled down on my heavy nuts, my eyelids fluttering as I did so. “Guess I have a reserve somewhere.”
He laughed again. “Somewhere,” he rasped, pushing down at the tenting in his briefs. “Suck it, dude.”
I pushed my back away from the futon. “Whip it out,” I told him, eagerly.
He grinned and shook his head from side to side. “I meant suck yours. Fucker comes up to your chest already.”
As sexy as all get out as that sounded, it was still something weird to do in front of someone I barely knew, and in a fraternity house, no less. Of course, my dick being what it was, I had done it before, just never for an audience. “Um…” I hesitated.
He stood there, arms akimbo. “That’s an order, pledge.” He moved in closer, his head bending down and in. “Suck it. Now.”
And so I did.
I spread my legs wide, grabbed the bottom of my thighs for leverage, and then craned my neck down, the wide head easily popping in my mouth, salty precome hitting the back of my throat like a bullet. Then I popped it out and pointed it his way. “Your turn.”
He hopped on his knees in front of me and grabbed the shaft, a million volts of adrenaline suddenly shooting up my spine. Then he sucked it, a gagging tear soon trickling down his cheek before he handed it back my way. Again, I sunk my mouth around it, my balls rising as I worked my way a bit lower this time. And then we both sucked it together, taking turns on the head, our lips sliding and grinding over it, tongues colliding as they passed each other.
“How far down can you go?” he asked, once he came up for air, spit dripping down his chin.
“Few inches, I suppose,” I replied.
Again he shook his head. “Not good enough, pledge,” he said, backing up. “On the floor. Quick.” I did as he said, my back now against the bottom cushion of the futon, ass flat on the carpet. “Now grab your foot and put it over your head.” Luckily, I was limber enough for that, and so that’s what I did, with a little help from him, until my foot was resting comfortably behind my neck and my cock was buried deep down my throat. “Getting closer,” he said. “Now the other foot.”
I retracted my lips and stared up at him. “No can do,” I said, out of breath.
“Do,” he said, pulling at my nipple until I winced in a mix of both pain and pleasure.
“Help me,” I replied.
And so he grabbed my other foot and slowly, gently, cautiously placed it behind my neck, until they were both there and I was leaning back, asshole exposed, cock hitting me in the chin. And then, all too soon, it was again in my mouth, deeper this time, almost there, almost. Until I could see my balls, smell the sweat off of them.
“Fucking hot, dude,” he said, standing up so that he could slide out of his briefs.
I glanced up while I continued sucking. His cock was thick, a good seven inches, balls like boulders, covered in the same down as the rest of him. I groaned at the sight of him. Or maybe from my mouth working its way south. Then he turned around and rummaged through his dresser drawers, returning my way before dropping to his knees. I glanced at the rubber and lube in his hand. My eyes went big.