Pledges: Gay Erotic Stories (5 page)

When I lowered the strap this time, Michael collapsed onto the chair, crying steadily. I dropped to my knees in back of him, set the strap on the floor, and tenderly cupped his hot, deeply reddened cheeks in my palms. He gasped and stiffened at the onslaught of pain, then relaxed back onto the chair, still sobbing, as my tongue stroked over his heated skin. The smell of his sweat-drenched asshole drew me like a bear to honey. I buried my face in his crack, reveling in the heat where his burning skin touched my face.
My tongue flicked over that sweet, musky rosebud. Michael groaned and cried at the same time, but I dug in and I ate him the way I wanted to. I love the taste of a young, hot asshole that’s been softened and loosened by a good strapping. Michael’s asslips were smooth as the insides of my lips. I kissed and tongued his tender pucker until it kissed me back. Then I dug in deeper, burying my tongue in his dank, moist heat until he was bucking back against me, wanting my tongue-job more than he cared about the pain in his ass. I opened the front of my jeans and pulled out my cock, jerking myself off while I made that boy dance on my tongue. The heat of his kissing asshole traveled through me until each stroke had me almost ready to shoot.
I carefully stood back up, leaving my raging cock hanging out of my jeans as I lifted the strap again. Michael groaned, clutching the chair and stiffening in anticipation. This time, he knew what was coming. But he held his position, kept that gorgeous ass up and ready for me.
“Son, you will
always
do your best with your schoolwork!”
I put my full strength behind the last two strokes. Each blow left a long, nasty welt.
Michael was beyond talking from the start. He thrashed against the chair, arching and yelling, absorbing each of the marks he’d said he so craved to help him get some discipline and hot sex in his life. But not once did he try to move his ass out of the line of fire. He was beautiful. My cock ached with wanting him.
That was all his ass could take, though. I didn’t give him any warning when I switched to the last task.
“Son, when you need a whipping, you will come to me and confess—immediately—or suffer the consequences!”
With that, I seared three hot, fast, heavy lashes across the tops of his thighs. One on the right, one on the left and one across the backs of both. I let each stroke wrap onto the inside of his legs. Man, did he yell! I thought for a moment he was going to bolt upright. His shoulders shook as he strained to hold on to the chair.
But he stayed in position, sobbing as the lines striping his thighs turned the same deep red as his butt. Damn, I was proud of that boy. I was so hot I was ready to shoot just from looking at that well-whipped skin, and from listening to the contrite apologies of my now thoroughly chastised son. I tossed the strap and shoved down my jeans, pulling a rubber over my dick with one hand while I shoved lube up Michael’s loose, open hole with my other. Then I sank my screaming cock up his ass, all the way in on the first stroke. There was no resistance at all, just a long, low cry from him and I was buried to my balls in his sweet, open ass.
“Have you learned your lesson, Michael?” I shoved in harder, slamming my pelvis up against his hot, red skin. “Has Daddy whipped you enough, or do you need more of Daddy’s strap?”
“No more, Sir. Please,” he gasped. “It’s enough, Sir. Please, just fuck me!”
He ground his cock into the chair. I pounded into him, my skin slapping up hard against his ass with each thrust. The heat of his asscheeks felt almost as good as the sucking warmth of his hot, shivering hole. A moment later, Michael roared like the healthy young animal he was, his ass spasming so tightly that I couldn’t even pull back enough to thrust. But I was too close for that to matter. His ass muscles clenched me like a gagging throat. My balls clenched, I grabbed his hot, red hips and I shot into him until my dick was swimming in cum inside that rubber.
When I caught my breath, Michael was limp over the back of the chair. He was so still that at first I thought he’d gone to sleep. His breathing was too erratic, though, and he was still clamped down tight around me. With a dick the size of mine, that happens from time to time with boys who have really tight assholes. I waited until I was almost soft, then slowly worked my way out, shivering as his firm, strong ass muscles squeezed my sensitized shaft.
When my cock had shrunk enough to fit, I tucked it back into my jeans. Then I took Michael by the shoulder and pulled him upright and into my arms.
“You learned your lesson, boy?” I smiled, pressing his head to my chest as I reached around and squeezed his hot buttocks.
“OW! Yes, Sir!” he gasped, lurching against me.
Michael shuddered as the pain traveled through his ass, then he tilted his head back and grinned awkwardly at me through his tear-stained face. “I never realized a strapping would hurt that much, Sir! My butt’s really sore!” He hissed as he moved his own hand back and carefully ran it over his backside. “My ass even feels hot!”
He sighed and hugged me again, rubbing his cock contentedly against my thigh.
“That was really hot, Sir. Thank you, Sir.” He nuzzled against me one more time. “Man, do you know how to fuck!”
He jumped, yelping as I smacked him soundly once more. “You’ve got a mighty nice ass yourself, boy. Now go to bed.”
I was laughing by then. Michael grinned back sheepishly as he gathered up his clothes. He didn’t even fuss when I made him walk naked past his brothers and their friends and into his room. Hell, I knew there’d be a line at his door wanting to look at his ass as soon as I went to bed.
It’s always that way with a house full of frat boys. Brothers help each other when their butts are sore or their hard dicks need attention. After all, taking care of each other is what family is all about.

The big house had been transformed. Strings of orange lights wound around columns, dripped down from the windows. The paper decorations of bats, skeletons, Franken-dudes, and mummies turned back the clock. Lincoln no longer felt twenty but much younger.

Then a sharp crack against the bare flesh of his ass, delivered by the unforgiving wooden paddle he’d grown intimate with in recent days, shattered the illusion. He was very much an adult again and being put through the motions. This wasn’t a Halloween party held in the old grange hall in Northumberland but the hostile male landscape of Alpha Epsilon. The hand on that paddle drew back, warning that it would happily strike again.

“Move your ass, shithead,” barked Connor Monroe, flashing a look that would have worked as well on the football field as in the bedroom, game face and come face identical.

“Yes, Sir,” Lincoln answered, shuffling forward, his body a walking road sign of sexual insults spelled out in Magic Marker. Cock breath
I love dudes
Spank my sweet ass
One of the pledges had gotten it worse and was walking

around with a pair of Connor’s dirty socks in his mouth. Or better. The thought taunted Lincoln. He quickly pushed it aside. Pondering how badly he wanted the funky, sweaty toes of Connor’s socks in his face threatened to make his dick stiffen in the paltry cover of his jockstrap, Lincoln’s only stitch of clothing other than his sneakers. Upperclassmen walked around, business as usual, while the under were forced to suffer humiliation with their business all but hanging out.

He and the sock-sucker moved sofas as per Connor’s precise instructions, both enduring additional whacks to their exposed asscheeks. Their masters laughed. Tom Berent, the football team’s quarterback and Alpha Epsilon’s biggest man on campus, drank it all in, arms crossed, a demigod among his fellow fraternity brothers.

Focus, focus,
Inner Lincoln urged. He couldn’t risk popping a bone and being found out.
Less than an hour later, Lincoln overheard Connor and Tom talking in the common room and decided that maybe he could.

“Dude, the sorority pledges,” Connor said, his growl just above a whisper. “They’re putting them under sheets, just like a bunch of fucking ghosts. Holes cut out for the eyes and—this is the best part—
mouths
!”

Tom’s reflection scratched his balls in the mirror through which Lincoln observed, just out of sight.
“Think about it! Ten hot mouths, all of them hungry for Alpha Epsilon dick.”
“Dude,” Tom sighed. “The only problem I see in this mathematical equation is…do you and I want to share?”
The two men high-fived. Lincoln choked down a dry swallow, his cock no longer able to be restrained from stiffening.
His smarts had gotten him this far, to an Ivy League school and all the way to Alpha Epsilon. Already, a plan was taking form, as ingenious as it was insane.

Pledges in jockstraps. Upperclassmen in Halloween costumes, a bunch of proud peacocks wandering about Alpha Epsilon House, cops and firemen, soldiers with plastic rifles, one or more horse-hung superheroes.

Connor went as a baseball player, no great stretch of the imagination there, though the uniform he wore in spring fit his body just as well in the fall. Tom made do with a hooded cassock and sandals that showcased his giant bare feet to perfection.

Energy thrummed through the frat house. As the early October darkness descended, lights inside dimmed. Candles were lit. Candy and snacks filled big plastic bowls molded into spooky shapes. Jack-o’-lanterns with hideous grins were set out along paths, likely to be smashed later that evening as beer was consumed and behavior turned rowdy.

Lincoln planned to misbehave, too, while the rest of his fellow pledges jumped and served at the whims of their masters. The masters would be too busy being drill sergeants and studs to notice that he was missing, he assumed. He stole a white bedsheet. Then, while the superheroes were flexing muscles and the cops were scratching their balls, Lincoln slipped upstairs. He emerged from one of the rooms in another costume, his disguise convincing.

It convinced the sorority sister and the ten little sheeted ghosts who wandered up the path, giggling in anticipation of the big Alpha Epsilon Halloween party.

“Hey,” Lincoln said, in a commanding voice. “Change of plans.”
The sorority sister in charge, a blonde with a harsh mouth dressed as a vampire, eyed him warily. “What kind of change?”
“No ladies in Alpha-Ep tonight. There’s been a snitch sighting. We can’t risk it, per Tom’s order.”
“Who are you?” the vampire demanded.
Lincoln calmly adjusted the helmet’s chinstrap, his identity safe, and indicated the numbers on his borrowed football jersey. “Number Eleven, that’s who. Sorry, ladies.”
A round of disappointed sighs and moans sounded through the sheets.
“Those are the breaks. Trick or treat,” said Lincoln.
The trick worked. Time to enjoy the treat.

A warm autumn breeze rustled the colored leaves still clinging to their branches. The fragrance, one of his favorites, made Lincoln’s dick pulse harder. He loved Halloween and the smell of the fall leaves. He loved the rich, buttery aroma of a hot jockdude’s sweaty feet even more.

Lincoln ditched the football uniform in the bushes and reentered Alpha Epsilon House in his jockstrap, blending seamlessly back into the crowd.

Dudes and ladies laughed. Cheap keg beer flowed. With temporary Magic Marker hieroglyphs covering his flesh, Lincoln looked for the cassock and the double-breasted home white uniform. They were easy to spot. Lincoln sauntered over.

“Sirs, can I get you anything?”
“Fucking cock-smooch,” said Connor. “Fucking right you can. Serve us!”

“Where the fuck are they?” Lincoln heard the baseball stud ask through the cacophony of voices filling the house.
Connor reached down and squeezed his package. Tom, in response, snuck a hand under the robe’s dark folds and jiggled his.
“They don’t get here soon, I’m gonna stick my dick down one of the pledges’ throats.”
Lincoln drew in a deep breath.
Showtime.

The clock ticked past midnight. Candles burned down. Bowls of candy and crunchy snacks emptied, as did plastic cups of cold piss-beer.

The common room at the back of the frat house’s lower level had seen plenty of action over the years. You could sense it in there, smell it. A fresh coat of paint rolled over the old by Lincoln and his fellow pledges earlier in the week could not repress all the sweat and semen absorbed into the walls, floors and fixtures.

Tom reclined on one end of the big sofa, his eyes shut, his hairy legs spread, an impressive size-thirteen foot out of its sandal and adding fresh male stink to the room. Connor sat at the other, a hand tucked under the top of his uniform pants, snoring.

The ghost slipped into the room and killed the light switch. The overheads dimmed, leaving the lounge under the glow of candles, most inside the jagged and grinning mouths of jack-o’lanterns. The ghost then closed the door and locked it.

Smiling behind the mouth hole cut into the sheet, Lincoln wandered over and dropped to his knees in front of Tom. He set a shaking hand upon the length of furry leg muscle at his left. Warm and solid flesh emboldened him to reach higher. Leg to knee, knee to thigh. Lincoln discovered that the biggest man on their campus wasn’t wearing any underwear beneath his costume. And that even limp, Tom
was
big.

“Fuck,” Lincoln whispered, tugging on the thick tube. His other fingers fumbled Tom’s nuts, equally impressive in their fullness.

But as much as he wanted a taste, first he craved a sniff. Leaning down, Lincoln pressed his nose against Tom’s naked foot and drew in a deep whiff. A real man’s scent filled his lungs. Lincoln resisted the urge to smile; through half-closed eyes, he studied the giant’s bare foot. Boldly, he licked.
Tom stirred awake. Lincoln stole another taste before reaching up and jiggling Tom’s dick, which was no longer fully limp. Squeezing down on it roused the upperclassman, as well as his length, from slumber.
“What the fuck?” Tom gasped. Then recognition dawned. “Oh, hey.”
A dopey smirk spread across his face, that basic grin of a man who’s about to get his dick sucked. Insanely handsome, his looks emboldened Lincoln, who moved closer.
“You’re eager,” said Tom.
Lincoln opened wide, ducked his face under Tom’s cassock, and maneuvered the thick cock in his grip through the hole cut in the sheet. Tom’s maleness slid between his lips.
“
Fuck
,” Tom groaned.
Lincoln forced his enthusiasm to slow and took his time, inch after inch, until musky curls teased his nostrils and the sheet pressed against the muskier balls beneath his chin. There was no going back now, only forward.
“Yeah, just like that, only harder. Fuck, yeah,” Tom ordered. He set his hand on the back of Lincoln’s skull and thrust in and out.
Lincoln gagged, recovered, sucked. Tom chuckled above him, oblivious to the truth. Probably not caring in all likelihood, the cocky voice in Lincoln’s head taunted. It was all about Tom’s dick now and getting its needs taken care of. Still, Lincoln knew he had to be careful to pull off the trick completely if he wanted the treat.
He matched Tom’s pivots and sucked.
To their left, Connor stirred. “Dude, what the fuck—?”
Tom’s fingers tightened on the back of Lincoln’s skull. “We got us a hungry little ghost, man. She’s a
goblin
.”
Through watery eyes, Lincoln watched the body in the baseball uniform shuffle over.
“Don’t hog her mouth,” Connor growled.
“Hey, shorty here’s the one doing the hogging—on my fucking hog, dude,” Tom said, and extended his knuckles.
Connor met the offer with a playful knock and then reached down, fumbling his uniform pants open. The jock’s dick was long and lean, matching the rest of his physique. Lush, dark hair wreathed its base. Two nuts in a loose sac spilled beneath it, second dawg in size only to Tom’s.
“If you’re that hungry for hard frat-jock bone, babe,” Connor said, wagging his length, “I got more of what you need.”
Lincoln spit out Tom’s meat, shifted over to the spot between Connor’s cleats and wordlessly sucked the other dude’s dick down to the nuts.