Benji and Dwight both groaned and sighed. Dwight’s turn was next, so after taking a deep steam-filled breath, he said, “Dare.”
Marshall smiled. “Put your face in Benji’s armpit for a full minute.” He was gonna add ‘without puking’, but Benji cackled in his big-ass baritone way, and Dwight groaned. Benji was big and hairy for a twenty-year-old, which was cuz he was part-Egyptian, supposedly, that was what Marshall heard. His chest was coated in black fur, and his ass and the small of his back and his arms and thighs and even his shoulders were hairy too. His armpits made him look like he was smuggling skunks.
To his credit, Dwight did it, and Marshall ain’t even gotta make him — as a team captain, he had the right to do that. A man’s gotta do what he’s committed to, even if it’s just a game of truth or dare. Dwight rammed his face into Benji’s sweat-silkened armpit hair, and a ferocious retch came outta him.
“Ooh-“
“Don’t pull away, don’t pull away. One. Two. Three.” Marshall stopped counting cuz he laughed at the frenzied wriggling of Dwight.
“Ewww — ihh — ell — ell — eye — -iiiiiht!” That last word was ‘shit’, for sure, but neither them caught the resta what Dwight said. Salty sweat trickled into Dwight’s mouth, and he gagged again.
There was no clock in there — and this was decades before cell phones, mind you — clocks was still expensive then — so Marshall had no way of measuring a full minute. He laughed too hard to count off. In any case, it wasn’t manly to niggle, so he didn’t complain when Dwight pulled off and spat up like a cat with a hairball, even though it was probably less than a full minute.
In any case, before Dwight had even stopped gagging, Benji grinned and tousled Dwight’s hair. He said, “Dare.”
“Ewhck, man, ewhck,” Dwight said. He picked an armpit hair outta his mouth. “You are so nasty, Benji.”
Benji’s big round cheeks blushed. He shrugged. “It was Marshall’s dare.” Then Benji repeated himself. “I said dare, c’mon, Dwight.”
Dwight had to regain his composure still. He wiped sweat off with both hands, not that it had much effect — Dwight’s hands were sweaty too. Everything in here was sweaty. Dwight looked at Marshall, who sat there with his cock sticking to his thighs. Dwight grinned.
From Marshall the Coach
Tag: scenes featuring hazing
Servicing Alphas: Chapter 3
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Chapter One: Court Fees Got Me Down
Chapter Three: Fraternity Hazing
Chapter Six: The Bouncer’s Bottom
Chapter Seven: The Hunky Pool Boy
Living in Ann Arbor had been nice, but Rob was beginning to get tired of it. He was already thinking of new places. Maybe Salt Lake City? Mormons were nice, but so boring.
But for now, he was still settling into his apartment near the college. Rob told himself — and more importantly, everyone else — that he lived there because it helped him write — he was trying to write a novel. But it actually distracted him because of all the hot frat guys who haunted the streets. He could sit out on his porch in the evening and spy all the semi-drunk boys scurrying in groups between houses, wearing sleeveless tees and sometimes even less.
He knew he’d lived there long enough, though, when Chad knocked on his door one day.
Chad was not very tall, and he wasn’t really muscular, but he was athletic and wiry, and he had very broad shoulders. His most endearing quality, however, were dimples and a perfectly scruffy chin. Those dimples dimpled marvelously when Rob opened the door, because Chad was very nervous. His shoulders were straight, and he bit his lip.
“Uh, so, hey, man… can I borrow… a… roll of orange duct tape.”
Rob looked at him blankly. He had no idea what that meant. “You want orange duct tape?”
“Yeah, like… orange?”
“Right… I, uh… I don’t have any orange duct tape, young man,” Rob said.
“Oh.”
“Would… black duct tape do?” Rob wasn’t sure he had black duct tape either, but there might have been a roll in the closet.
“No! I mean… No,” Chad said. “Is that… butt stuff?” He glanced down the hall, whence Rob heard emanations of snickering.
“What?!” Rob poked his head out. A handful more frat boys were peering this way, but they scattered when they saw Rob. Their throaty chuckling filled the air in the hallway.
Chad’s cheeks burned bright red. “Is that code?”
“No,” Rob said. “What are you talking about?”
“Oh, uh, sorry, oh, uh, uh, I, uh, I was all like, all in the… I had things to be in the… they said it, and I said all that that I was like… And so…”
Rob clucked his tongue. “You have a bad case of fraternity-induced crazymouth, boy. If you want something from me, you better say it.”
“Will you jack my dick?!” He paused and blushed. “With your mouth.”
A silence filled the hall. “Well, yes,” Rob said. “But please don’t shout that.” He opened the door, and Chad came in.
“Shit, yeah, thanks,” Chad said with a sigh.
“So they told you you had to use a code?”
Chad nodded.
“Okay, I do not like to play games like that, Chad. Girls enjoy that kind of shit. If you want me to jack your dick, just ask, using normal words,” Rob said.
“Yes, sir,” Chad said. He sat on the couch. “Thanks, man, I mean, sir-“
“You can call me Rob,” Rob said. “You’re a very polite young man.”
Chad was still blushing, holding his breath. He looked like his head might explode. He had a big goofy grin on his face that he couldn’t remove. “I really need the money. Five grand is a lot.”
Rob looked at him. “What?”
“Five grand, right? That’s what you gave Deshonte Williams.”
“Uh… Is that what he’s saying? You tell him he’s got a ten-dollar dick, and I gave him a big tip. I did not pay him five grand,” Rob said. “I don’t have to pay you jack-shit, Chad. You came in here asking me to get you off, remember that? I know you just wanna get your dick wet and you’ll do it for free.”
“No way! Deshonte said you pay money!”
“Then get five grand out of Deshonte!” Rob said. He grinned. “Okay, I gave Deshonte fifty bucks, which is what I normally pay college boys. But I’ll give you a hundred so you can tell Deshonte to quit talking a bunch of bullshit about me cuz his dick ain’t that good. Tell him I can make sure every girl on campus thinks he’s impotent. So unless he wants that rumor to spread across campus like syphilis, he had better stop bragging about that shit. I paid him fifty bucks.” Rob got on his knees between Chad’s legs.
Chad’s eyes opened wide and he blushed. “I… uh… I don’t know if I can…”
“Are you scared of Deshonte? He won’t hurt you. He won’t get in a fight because he doesn’t want to ruin that lovely face,” Rob said. “But whatever, you don’t have to say that. Just tell him I said to come talk to me. I’ll give him the message.”
“Oh.” Chad still looked scared. He sucked in his breath and closed his eyes. Rob didn’t know if he was actually scared of Deshonte or if he was just nervous about being with a man.
Rob stroked Chad’s dick through his jeans, then unzipped the fly. Chad gasped. Rob reached in and pulled out a nice-sized dick. He planted his lips right on the tip and suckled loudly, moistly.
Then he stroked it and had Chad take his shirt off. “You’re pledging a frat?” One of Rob’s hands played with his nipples, which made Chad’s pecs flex.
Chad nodded and closed his eyes. “Kappa Gamma Pi.”
“Oh… is that the frat that does elephant walks?”
Chad blushed. “I, uh… I’m not allowed to talk about that stuff.”
Rob giggled. He went back to sucking, deep-throating Chad to the root. He could picture Chad doing the elephant walk, maybe with Deshonte himself — wasn’t Deshonte also a Kaggapee? (That was what the Kappa Gamma Pi boys were called on-campus). An elephant walk was when all the pledges formed a line, totally naked, and then gripped the cock of the man behind them (reaching between their own legs) while inserting their other finger into the ass of the man in front of them. That resulted in a line of frat boys manhandling each other.
It was incredibly arousing, Rob thought, even if Chad did deny it.
Rob sucked on his balls loudly enough to make Chad open his eyes and gasp. Rob giggled. He loved servicing frat boy alphas like him, since so many of them were inexperienced. Chad had probably only been sucked off by a few girls as inexperienced as he was, so he’d most likely never had a worthwhile blowjob. Rob enjoyed blowing his mind.
“How is it?” Rob asked. He made eye contact with Chad, who blushed.
“Uh… Oh god… It’s… uh…” Chad’s face was bright-red. “It’s…” He bucked and grunted, his whole body shaking as Rob casually stroked him off.
Rob hadn’t intended to give Chad such an intense orgasm. But he was on the verge of cumming even before Rob pulled off his cock, and Chad was young and virile enough that he couldn’t stop himself even if he had wanted to. So Rob kept stroking as sticky precum flowed over his hand.
“C’mon, swallow it, swallow it…” Chad’s voice was plaintive and desperate. His hands fluttered above Rob’s head.
“Hmm… your dick feels so good in my hand…” Rob moaned, thwacking Chad’s cock against his palm. He could feel the cum coursing up the shaft, and he could sense his orgasm in the roiling muscles of Chad’s body.
He played like he wasn’t going to put it in his mouth anymore, even as Chad’s ruddy face gasped and begged him to do it. Then, at the last second, as a jet of cum sprayed out, Rob rammed his head all the way down. The sour and intensely bright flavor of cum overloaded Rob’s senses.
“Ah, shit, yes!” Chad sighed grandly, his chest rattling, muscles flexing. His cock disappeared all the way down Rob’s throat, his cummy shaft filling Rob’s senses with his salty goodness.
Then cum spurted into Rob’s stomach, great creamy gobs of it that just kept on flowing. Chad had big college-boy balls that were overful with his nut, and now it all flowed out at once. It filled Rob up and then kept going, until Rob couldn’t possibly swallow it all.
It spilled out and made a big frothy mess on Chad’s crotch. Rob pulled off and took a deep breath.
“Goddamn!” Chad’s face was bright red. He looked at his dick as though he had no idea why that happened.
Rob giggled. “You certainly earned your fifty dollars.” He wiped cum off the corner of his mouth.
“Goddamn!” Chad said again. He was breathless and sweaty, stray drops of cum congealing on his flat belly.
“You’re all messy…” Rob said.
“You made a mess.”
“You’re blaming me?” Rob said. He stood up and wiped his face off. “If you want, you can take a shower before you leave.”
“Oh sweet, okay. I don’t really wanna walk out of here smelling of cum.”
Rob smiled. “Well, the bathroom is right down the hall. The one rule is that you have to let me shower with you. Do you share showers with your frat brothers?”
“Yeah…” His voice was thready and uncertain. Then he stood and chuckled, his voice suddenly deeper and more confident. “I guess I can do that. I got my nut off in a man’s mouth. I got paid to blow a wad.” He smiled like he had just realized all that. “So I can handle sharing a shower.”
“Excellent.” Rob grinned as he led Chad into the bathroom. This day, he thought, was turning out better than he had hoped.
But he didn’t think he was going to get any writing done.
Read it now for free as an ebook!
Chapter One: Court Fees Got Me Down
Chapter Three: Fraternity Hazing
Thumper the Booty Bandit: Chapter 8
Read it now for free from Smashwords!
Chapter Five: Crossing the Bridge
Chapter Six: The Sauciest Noodle
Chapter Seven: Nights of Long Love
Thumper parked the Jaguar near the Baltimore County College campus. He ain’t never gone to college as a student or even as a visitor before. The lawn — the quad, though Thumper ain’t never heard it called that — was clipped clean, crawling with college kids playing frisbee and taking phone-photos of theyselfs playing frisbee. A few picnicked on blankets spread out on the grass and took phone-photos of theyselfs picnicking. One foursome used they phone to play something that sounded like a water-brain retard screaming obscenities over a romantic movie soundtrack and then took phone-photos of theyselfs listening to it.
He looked around for Miriam. She done called her dad to ask for a ride home from college. She be getting rides from her friend Katie, but Katie got car trouble and “oobered”. Mr. Gregarian said Miriam gotta wait for Thumper, not do a “oober”. When Thumper asked what a “oober” was, Mr. Gregarian said it was a phone company that sent a Pakistani to give women a ride home and rape them.
So Thumper strode onto campus, hoping he resembled the kinda nigga who went to college. He ain’t know where to go. Miriam weren’t a-loiter-about in the parking lot. Thumper ventured deeper into the campus on the peep for her.
“Keep it up, men!” came a laughing voice.
“Don’t drop the line!”
“Hold those tomatoes, men!”
Thumper saw a line of naked fellahs coming this way. He stopped short and threw his eyebrows way back. The boys in they buff was marching like soldiers, but they got an odd pace about ’em. Most ’em was white but one was a nightcheek nigga you could just tell was like Nigerian or some shit, and a couple was sundry Asian squint-a-lots.
When they got closer, he saw they wasn’t fully naked — they was all wearing jockstraps and nothing else, so even they feets was bare. They sniggled out giggles, and the fully clothed men watching them go counted off they pace. The reason they be moving like defective soldiers was that each one got a tomato a-squeeze between they buttcheeks.
“Keep it up, Danny! You won’t get through pledge week if that’s as fast as you can go!”
“If you make tomato sauce, you’re goin’ straight to the Beta house!”
The ones in charge was laughing harder and harder, as the young’uns sallied through the quad. The other dopes and drips scattered around looked at ’em like naked bugaboos when they bare bottoms got in the backgrounds of they phone-photos. Thumper ain’t never seen nothing like this. Was it a college class? Ain’t none ’em look like teachers.
“Thumper?” Miriam was behind him. She somehow found him without taking her face outta her phone. Maybe she got a nigga-finder on that jawn.
“Oh, there you is,” Thumper said. He stood to spare her seeing them fellahs in they jockstraps, though she musta spied ’em on the way here. “C’mon, you ready to go home?”
That sea of plump behinds was dancing in Thumper’s eyes. Every single one them was likely intact in the booty, he thunk. College whombutts locked up usually was, till Thumper got ahold of ’em.
“Yes. Today was horrible, Wendell! My social justice in American media professor hates me,” Miriam said. She harped on about an unfair grade on an essay, while he led her to the Jag. “I spent hours writing it. He said it lacked verve. What does that even mean?!” She ain’t act like she was expecting an answer, so Thumper ain’t give her one. They left the tomato-butt boys behind. “He’s kinda hot, actually. My professor, I mean. Oh god, don’t tell my dad I said that. He’s old, he’s like thirty. My professor, I mean, not my dad.” She snorted back a laugh.
“What was up with those boys in they drawers?” Thumper asked when he opened the door to the Jag. Miriam slid into the passenger seat this time, not the back.
“Drawers? You mean their jockstraps? Don’t say ‘drawers’, this isn’t like Kentucky or wherever they say that.”
“They say it in Baltimore,” Thumper said with a snapdown. “I’m from here.”
“Those Kappa boys are so gross, I, like, totally got trauma from it. I’m probably gonna dissociate from it. Or anxiety. Maybe I’ll get anxiety. This whole week has been like that,” she said. “I heard the Kappa boys were farting on each other this morning. Boys are disgusting.”
“Uh-huh, sure are.” Thumper sat behind the wheel and started the engine.
“It’s fraternity hazing,” she said. “Frat boys are lame. I’m so over them.” She done pull her hair back, so it ain’t block her face. “I’m not joining a sorority. I was gonna. The Epsilon Tau Gamma sisters are the hottest sorority, but… They’re a bunch of slutty bitches. Whatever, grr. One of them is like so fat, it’s hilarious.” She snorted. They drove past the line of fraternity freshmen, they pale asscheeks jiggling in the bright sunshine. Miriam watched them go past. She sighed. “Popularity is dumb, isn’t it? It doesn’t matter after high school.”
“A free adult can choose whose popularity matters. That’s a freedom ain’t nobody can take from you. The people you choose is yo’ niggas. Or whatevuh the white-girl equivalent of a nigga is.”
She laughed. Thumper ain’t never heard her laugh like she meant it.
There was a long pause. “I don’t want to know what you got arrested for. I was thinking, before, about how to ask you and whether it would be rude. But I decided I’m not asking because I don’t want to know. People aren’t just the sum of how everybody has seen them.” She touched Thumper’s arm, just like she done in the Jag on the way home from Ocean City. Just like then, it got Thumper’s heart pounding and his head circling. He kept feeling her touch after she let go.
She kept talking on the ride, and Thumper even responded, but he ain’t listen. He was savoring the softness of her fingers on his skin.
After dropping Miriam off at the Gregarian house, Thumper gotsta swap noses with his parole officer. Mr. Perry again scolded Thumper like a disagreeable diaper about being late and finding a job, even though he both got gainful employment and wasn’t late. Thumper scowled through it. Mr. Perry was just delivering the only messages in his databank.
Then, Thumper ain’t scoot his booty back to Lipsweet to see Mr. Gregarian. He shoulda — he was trying-a garner greens and Mr. Gregarian often got odd jobs for him.
Something, however, drew him back to that college campus. He ain’t get in a trembling whiteboy since Ocean City couple weeks back, and he was eager to drop a load.
He could go back to Lipsweet and likely end up in one of the dancers by the time the night was done. But them dancers was worn through, and that lightskin badonkadonk Sherry made him stop over and over so she could do new facebooks and check up on her prior facebooks. Once she blueballed him cuz the computer voted down her facebook and put her in “facebook jail” for “subposting the truth about Mexican sluts” — Thumper seen niggas on fire less freaked out than she was, and her pussy snapped shut like a shy clam. After that she wasn’t hot no more to Thumper.
Thumper craved them clean college boys with intact booties and dirty jockstraps. They looked smooth as platypuses and perky as morning coffee. So he wandered about the campus. Whatever kinda hazing was going on before, it musta got done with. The quad was quiet as a quackless duck, ‘cept for the raucous rhythmic chorus of crickets ringing the campus.
But just off campus, there was a house with a rowdy party going on. Thumper’s ears hopped onto that sound like a city bus. He heard young’uns laughing and carrying on to loud music — like rock and roll, but you could just tell the singer ain’t never get laid — plus it got a banjo — and all them deep on the slur. They was drunk enough to struggle to take photos of theyselfs with they phones. The party sounded wild as werewolves with phone addictions. Thumper sauntered over to check it out.
It seemed they was all drunk enough to ignore him, or maybe it was dark enough outside that they ain’t notice he weren’t one among them, so long as he stayed outta the house itself. He sidled up into the frontyard, which was dark and shadowy and filled with couples kissing, frat boys doped out in the grass and two girls arguing in frantic hushes. Every single one got a phone in hand.
In the backyard though, the hazing was still going on. A half-dozen freshface buttsniffers in jockstraps chugged beers while older dipsticks cheered them on, and one by one, they each passed out. Thumper stood in the shadows and watched.
He grabbed a Natty Boh, and he drank it quick as candy. Couple fellahs did see him and realize he was old and prison-tatted and not a college student by far, but they was too drunk to come to any kinda conclusion — Thumper was just standing and smoking ciggies, not doing a dillynigging thing, not even dithering at his phone, so not a bone wiggled a niggle about him.
A mountain of empty beers pyramided up beside the sliding-glass door in the rear of the party house. The smell of puke was barely overpowered by the reek of spilled drink.
One pimple-face curled-olive gal showed off her titties soon enough, and that got Thumper’s root reviving. She was maybe involved with a sorority or some shit, Thumper gathered, but he ain’t know enough about college life to pick up on what he eyeballed.
In any case, she got fine bazoombas, but he ain’t the kinda nigga to mess with a drunk-to-fuck woman. He ain’t lose his morals in prison.
‘Sides that, them frat boys got booties that was looking mighty fine and ain’t require no woo or obsess about “tweet ratios”.
The backyard was empty of consciousness, and just a half-dozen or so freshmen was there, sleeping it off, they phones resting in they pockets. Thumper ain’t sure if that meant they passed the hazing or they failed it. In any case, he already got his sights set on one.
His name was Danny, and he played college lacrosse, not that Thumper knew that. Danny was a champion laxxer back in his elite prep school — all the elite prep schools in Maryland had well-regarded lacrosse teams because it was the state team sport. Thumper ain’t know that either, despite having never left the state, nor did he know what a prep school was. He got only a glimmer of a idea what lacrosse was.
Danny was unconscious clutching his phone when Thumper grabbed him from the backyard and dragged him to the row of cars parked on the grass. He got him behind a car, walled off by another car on one side and a cold brick wall on the other.
“Hmph, whatchoo doin’?” Danny said, awakening enough to grip the back of the car when Thumper telled him to. He looked around like he wondered if he was dreaming.
Thumper pulled down Danny’s pants and made him spread his legs. Danny was still too drunk to realize he oughta resist. Thumper slipped his erect dick right into the hole, and Danny hissed. Thumper laughed. He pushed his whole cocktip in. There weren’t no resistance, cuz Danny was too drunk to clench, even in tremendous pain. “You just hangin’ out wit’ a slappy-dappy nigga, spunkface. You the coolest honky in the world.”
“Ow, shit. Really? Whaaaat?” Danny wriggled and tensed, unaware of what was happening to his backside. His hands flailed above the car like he was trying-a fight someone off from that direction. He held back a gag, then erupted in dry heaving, still too goggled to understand what was happening. He tried lamely to push Thumper away. “Whassshhhh…?”
“Shush, whiteboy, don’t be loud,” Thumper said, as his cock slid in past Danny’s hole. He smacked Danny’s bare asscheeks.
Danny clawed at the car. “Owwww!”
But Thumper was relentless, ramming his unlubed dick in and out over and over. Every time Danny wiggled, his butthole clenched, which sent a wave of pleasure through Thumper’s body. He aimed his pecker in different directions to hump each angle of Danny’s guts, and the fact that he ain’t use no lube only made it all the more visceral and real. It was like Danny’s guts was holding onto Thumper’s cock and ain’t gonna let him go till he fill Danny up with seed.
“Ow, shsshshshiiii!” Danny screamed, but he was too drunk to make much noise. He still ain’t understand what the strange black man behind him was doing or why his insides hurt so bad. He thought maybe he had got stabbed or shot.
But Thumper ignored his pain, threw his head back and groaned as he neared his orgasm. Danny’s asshole pulsated around his throbbing cock. Creamy pre-jizz now provided a little lube, which made it easier for Thumper to plow in and out.
With every drop of precum, he could ram deeper in and smoother out, while Danny’s huffing and puffing turned into a squealing whine. “Ew oo ah — ew oo ah — ew oo ah — hwwwwwhwhwhwhwhwhnnnnnnn!”
“G’on, squeal like a piggie, whiteboy,” Thumper murmured. He wrapped an arm around Danny’s neck and lifted his upper half up. Danny was entirely enconsced in his grip. “Got’choo good, shit… Sorry, I ain’t got a diaper to give you, you gonna need it…”
At last, he blew a massive wad deep into Danny’s guts. Only then did Danny’s drunken mind understand what was happening to him. He felt that goopy jizz seeping into him. He felt Thumper’s manhood throbbing in his sensitive asshole. He felt the heat of the cum flowing throughout his body. But he ain’t feel the jizz itself until it dripped down his taint.
Another jerk of Thumper’s hips came with another explosion of jissom inside him. Danny panted. Thumper moaned. He smacked one of Danny’s asscheeks, which made him writhe as Thumper ejaculated again and again. Thumper pounded into him with each thrust of his daggersome dick resulting in a splashy spurt of juices.
“All done, honky,” Thumper said when his cock plopped out with a satisfyingly heavy thump. Jissom ran down his thighs. “Love you, baby.” He kissed Danny on the lips.
Then Thumper sauntered off, leaving Danny there with his phone and his pants around his ankles in the party house’s overparked driveway. As he abandoned Danny, Thumper tucked his dick away and said, “You’d make yo’ cellmate the happiest nigga in the world.”
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Chapter Five: Crossing the Bridge
Chapter Six: The Sauciest Noodle