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  • Chris Donaldson Ch. 03

Chris Donaldson Ch. 03

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All characters in this story are over the age of 18. Chapters 1 and 2 dealt with Chris and Justin, roommates in their sophomore year in college. Justin is seeking to turn Chris into his compliant live-in sub for the year; Chris is very attracted to Justin, but has mixed feelings about sexual submission. Confused and inexperienced, he has tried to set some parameters. This chapter is long, and there is some violence in it.

*****

"I'm going out for a smoke." Justin left his bourbon on the bar. Knob Creek, one ice cube. "Don't let anyone touch my drink, Jayson." He winked at the bartender. It was an obvious joke - there was only one other patron at Ted's that night. A bit slow for a Wednesday, but not unheard of.

Jayson grunted. Justin was a good regular, never caused trouble. And you certainly didn't see his type here, ever. College boys didn't come into Ted's. Frat boys didn't come into Ted's. Just hard-drinking men with crappy jobs. Justin's connection here was personal, and Jayson always let him in without making a fuss about his age. Money is money, and Jayson knew a little of the guy's history. Live and let live was his motto, as long as they don't pick fights. Plus, any customer was valuable on a weeknight in this out-of-the-way, seedy watering hole. And Justin stopped in as often as three or four nights a week.

Justin sauntered into the alley behind the dive bar, lit his cigarette, and crossed his arms for warmth. The late October air was chilly, and he hadn't worn a jacket. He had his own special spot to park his conspicuous Audi that was only a block from Ted's, and a nice homeless guy who for $50 would make sure no one vandalized it. Just a two-minute walk from heated car to heated bar . . . not worth the effort to wrap up. He was buzzed from his third drink. The crisp air and the cig made for the perfect sensation, the perfect mood. For the moment, he was protected, isolated from his cares. His thoughts wandered to his roommate, Chris.

Now there was the perfect bitch boy, he smirked. Yeah, it had been an awkward start. Maybe he had come on too strong, but sure as shit the fag knew what his place was after that first night. There may have been protests, there may have been attempts at negotiation, but the upshot was head whenever he wanted it, a hot tongue on his hole whenever he felt like it, and ongoing maid service, as long as he manipulated the boy right. Carrot and stick. Fist and dick.

Justin inhaled, momentarily content. There hadn't been much fist necessary the last six weeks. Unfortunate, in a way . . . Justin had a lot of anger to unleash these days. Ever since . . . don't think about it man.

He could always be a bully if he had to be. Right now it seemed ok to be more chill. What was it his grandmother had said about honey, vinegar and flies? Whatever. He was now getting most of his sexual needs met at home without having to resort to violence, or having to look anywhere else. Lately, in fact, he had been getting his feet worshipped as well. Justin smiled slyly. That had been funny. He could have planned it, almost.

Not one to be attentive to his own mess, Justin had left clothes lying around the small dorm room from the get go. Dirty, clean, they were all the same to him. He figured with the right kind of pressure and incentives, Chris would take care of it. And of course the boy did. Cleaning up the carpet after being allowed to shoot his wad on it had become one of Chris' regular duties. That had quickly and readily spread to other cleaning and tidying - and soon, Chris was doing all the laundry. Except Justin's underwear and socks had come in for special treatment.

He had had his suspicions, and figured he would catch the fag one of these days. Sure enough, one afternoon he had walked in after class to find Chris with his pants down, jerking his 4-and-a-half-inch cock, his nose in one of Justin's socks. Justin was not always clear as to what clothes were clean in the dorm room, so he often wound up wearing his underwear and socks multiple times. Chris was taking advantage of a particularly ripe gym sock.

Justin's round face had lit up at the sight, his dark brown eyes glazing over with lust. This was a fucking sub to keep.

"What's up, Chrissy?" he had smirked. Chris had turned bright red, of course. He had stammered some reply. Justin didn't usually listen to the bitch when he was talking.

"So you like my foot stink?" he had asked.

It was only a matter of minutes before he had Chris on his knees massaging, then licking his tired feet. Heaven. That became one more activity to add to the mix. Their regular routine began in the morning. Almost every day, Chris would suck Justin off before they both hit the shower, taking care of his roommate's morning wood. It had started with that first morning together, and after only about a week of being asked, Chris would now get up at 6:50, a few minutes before Justin, and climb out of the top bunk to kneel by the side of Justin's bed and wait patiently for Justin to open his eyes or grunt. If Justin lifted the side of his dark blue comforter, Chris would stick his head under it and find Justin's pulsing, uncut, eight-inch dick, lying on top of his musty pubes. Chris moved quickly or took his time, responding to Justin's verbal direction and hands on his head.

Justin took it as his natural due, enjoying a morning blowjob from his sub. He was never mean or insulting in the morning, just sleepy and half amused that his roommate was so into his pre-shower smell, which to be honest was pretty fuckin' ripe. After a few minutes, or as long as half an hour, depending on Justin's mood, Chris would swallow every drop of Justin's hot, creamy spunk. No complaints, just a pleased smile on the sub's face at receiving such a nice gift in the morning.

Right after he swallowed Justin's load, Chris would always beg, very, very softly, to be allowed to jerk himself off; and every morning, Justin patted him on the head and said no.

"Maybe tonight," was always the answer, and so Chris had to wait patiently for another twelve hours or more. His lube had long ago been confiscated, and he was smitten enough by his hot, muscular roommate not to tempt fate (or a slap) by cumming on his own. He was terrified he would get caught - Justin had an uncanny sense of when Chris was horny, and had texted, called, or even worse, walked in, *right* as Chris was pulling his pants down to fap. So many times, in fact, that Chris had simply given up trying. Justin was pleased by his roommate's resignation and obedience, and had subsequently allowed Chris to shoot a few times a week in the evenings. After all, Justin reasoned, he's a horny fucker too, and as long as I'm getting served and serviced, he can have some rewards.

Evenings were a different routine. Justin was usually at the fraternity or the dive bar until 10 or 11, but when he got home, he had Chris service his feet, ass, nuts, and dick in whatever combination suited him. Chris would swallow his second load of the day, or sometimes just spend an hour licking Justin's crack and tonguing his hole. What a fuckin' champ. Justin smiled. The boy was still squirrely, but he sure had a taste for all of Justin's smelly parts. And Justin was happy to oblige him. Eventually Justin would cum or get bored. Then he would either instruct Chris to get ready for bed, or slowly and teasingly take Chris' jar of lube out of his locked filing cabinet and lift the lid. Like one of Pavlov's dogs, Chris would sit up on his knees, his boner would get even stiffer, and he would start to whine softly like a little puppy. That was hot.

Justin would let him jack off, but always with some extra obstacle meant to tease, humiliate, or frustrate Chris. Giving him a limited time to stroke and shoot. Making him jerk for ten seconds and a time and then stop, over and over again, until he was ready to explode. Making him repeat out loud what a lowly cumslut he was as he yanked his dick. Making him shove his ass in the air and his face in one of Justin's rank sneakers while he jacked. One thing had changed - sniffing and rimming Justin's hole had become so addictive to Chris that it was a reward now, not a punishment. If Justin was feeling extremely benevolent, even a little tender toward his roommate, he would let Chris lie on his back on his own bed, squat with one meaty thigh on either side of Chris' head, and lower his hot, funky ass gently onto Chris' face, and let him take his own time enjoying it and jerking himself off.

Justin had done that a few times now, and the look of lust, worship, and gratitude on Chris' face afterwards had been piercing. So much that the dominant jock had had to look away, and fast. Don't go there, man.

Anyway.

So yeah, he was getting his rocks off more than he ever had. It was good. Very good, even. Chris had learned an awful lot in six weeks.

But man, he wanted that little bitch's cherry. That sweet, perky little ass. He had almost taken it by force a number of times, but had held back, perhaps realizing that the fallout from the damage he could cause if it went poorly might be more than even he, with all his animal charm, could manage.

Justin took a last drag on his cigarette.

Shit. Take away that scruffy beard, shave his chest and his pubes, and he could be . . .

No. I'm not going to think about . . . Him. Not now, not in this fucking bar.

Justin walked back inside. He slammed the last of his bourbon. Nodded to Jayson, who brought him another.

"That's a lot for a Wednesday, bro."

Justin grinned, and fist-bumped the bartender.

"You know I can handle it."

"Whatever it takes, man." Jayson walked away to play with his phone. Justin wasn't sure if it was a slight. Wasn't sure if after two years, Jayson had come to realize exactly how Justin had impacted his life.

Fuck it, he keeps the booze coming and doesn't card me. Don't mess it up. Justin stared blankly at his feet. His thoughts returned to Chris. His natural sense of entitlement started to take over. That fuckin' cunt owes me his ass, Justin thought. Maybe I should just fuckin' take it. Justin's dick hardened at the thought of Chris' look of pain at being impaled by his huge, juicy, uncut cock. Just what that fuckin' pussy deserves. I'm a fraternity brother in the hottest house on campus, not some queer. Not some un-athletic submissive faggot like Chrissy. Justin's mood, always on the razor's edge, started to flip. Anger and stress began to surface as Justin swallowed another gulp of Knob Creek. His headed started to pound, his eyes became filmy. He pictured Chris' round, firm, almost-smooth butt, with its pinkish pucker. His mouth tightened.

The object of Justin's thoughts was contemplating a similar prospect: getting fucked for the first time. Things with Justin had been going great, considering how they had started. Chris had found himself slipping naturally and willingly into a submissive role with his roommate, and loved the structure it gave to his day. Eager receptacle of Justin's cum every morning; the quick pantomime of wanting to get off and being denied; yearning for the bigger guy's dick, ass, feet, pits, and chest all day; and then the searing uncertainty of the night's activities, wondering what he'd be ordered to do, and if Justin would let him have his own release. Or if Justin would return too late and too tired to demand service, and Chris would go to bed hungry.

Chris' days and weeks passed in a blur of desire and a blissful dissonance of sexual satisfaction and frustration. There was no room for anything besides his roommate and his classes - and there was barely room for the latter. If Chris had had friends, they would have missed him, but his shyness and self-imposed isolation during his freshman year meant that no one noticed his obsession.

And now his obsession was with getting fucked. First a finger, gently, firmly, probing with skill. Then another finger. Chris leaned back in his desk chair away from the paper he was writing, raised his legs off the floor and ran a finger over his cotton-covered hole. Closing his eyes, he imagined Justin's thick fingers penetrating his ass, his cute, jock face with its shaved head leering over Chris. Then the lube. Then the main event. They'd be lying on Justin's bed, Justin's powerful arms on either side of Chris' head, the rich scent of rank armpits electrifying the room and sending charges to Chris' small cock. Justin would gently push his dickhead against Chris' hole, slowly, carefully thrusting in. Justin would have amazing control, and surprising tenderness . . . slowly, slowly Chris would take Justin's head in his ass and gasp . . . surprised at the feelings of warmth and how quickly the pain subsided . . . and then Justin would slowly keep moving, lowering his body on top of Chris, pushing his dick deep inside Chris, and then . . . Justin's face would get closer to Chris' . . . so close . . . and as Justin started to gently pump his ass, his lips would meet Chris' for the first time, in a passionate kiss that got more intense as the pumping got deeper and faster . . .

Chris spun out of his fantasy.

There's no way he would ever kiss me, he thought sadly. I've swallowed 100 loads of cum by now, and I've never even been kissed by the guy, not once. Or any other guy, for that matter.

Chris checked his phone - 9:30, no texts. Justin was probably with his girlfriend again. He spent a lot of time with her, as much as he could spare from the frat, Chris guessed. Three or four nights a week, from what Justin had told him. But she wouldn't give head apparently, not to mention all the other oral worship, and that's evidently what Justin really wanted. Chris didn't dwell on it. Her loss was his gain.

He checked his phone again. 9:31. Fuck. This was going to be one of those long, anxious waits for his roommate. He hoped Justin would come home soon, and maybe, just maybe . . . Chris was sure there was some romance in Justin, somewhere.

Give him time, he thought. He's basically straight, you can't expect too much. You should be grateful you've got such an amazingly hot roommate with a perfect athletic bod to worship whenever you want. Last year you could not have dreamed you'd be getting this much sex. So chill out and give him what he needs. He'll realize what he's got soon enough.

And then what? Chris smiled sardonically. He'll marry me?

Yeah. Right.

Depressed at his last thought, and bored to boot, Chris decide to take a walk. He put on some jeans and running shoes, and threw on a hoodie. It was cold out. He jogged down the hall, and outside through the parking lot. He glanced up at the security camera, waved for fun, and then loped down to the street. Around the corner, over by the park. Up Cedar St. at a brisk walk. Back into the little-used south entrance of Kroetzger, up three steps to the hall that led to his suite. Dumb that there wasn't a camera at the south door. On a whim, he ran up the three flights of stairs to the top floor of the dorm. Good for his legs. Another brisk walk down the hall . . . he didn't know anyone up here except for the Resident Advisor. Well, he didn't really know the RA, whose name was Mason, either. Only by sight. A very handsome, dark blond, tall, fratty guy. Lacrosse player, probably. Out of Chris' league socially, economically, and certainly sexually; the RA had the same dyed-blonde girl on his arm most times Chris had seen him, like Ken and Barbie. Mason was always friendly in a vaguely patronizing way. Like it was his job (which it was), but Chris suspected he must be a decent guy. Otherwise, how could he have become an RA? He was intimidating, but nice. And the intimidation was probably all in Chris' own head. He strode past Mason's door, head down, averting his eyes from the guys hanging out in the suite. He checked his phone; no texts. Down the north stairs to the first floor, back to 119.

Shit, now what do I do?

Chris locked the door, and opened his laptop. At a loss and antsy, he went to a hookup site he stubbornly refused to bookmark. It wasn't really him, of course. He had created a profile because you had to, to see who else was out there. But all of these Masters and slaves, Doms and subs, people into all kinds of crazy fetishes . . . they weren't him. They weren't really what Chris was after. He was just . . . curious.

The home page showed that he had a few cruises. Well, that was always flattering. He had posted a few pics of his own worked-out, hairy torso, although to his mind, they were not worth noticing. Other people clearly felt differently. UrMaster wanted to tie him up and put him in a closet for a few hours while he went out with friends. Delete. FFabulous FFun & FFrolic wanted to "explore his hole". Uh huh, I bet. Delete. ChiTown85 had only cruised him; no message.

Chris looked at ChiTown's profile - 27, 6'0", 180, great chest pic with lots of dark hair . . . and hot ass and leg pics, too. Oh shit, he has feet pictures? Hot. And the dick pics . . . holy shit. Uncut, it looked even bigger than Justin. Well, longer anyway. Huge bush, no shaving anywhere. Justin's nuts were always shaved, like his chest. Feeling guilty, Chris tabbed over to his paper on the effects of climate fluctuation on 18th-century French politics . . . and then tabbed back to the hookup site. He "cruised" ChiTown85. Why not? Chris was spoken for, but still horny. And soooo eager for someone to take his anal cherry.

Logic and common sense dictated that despite his fantasies, Justin might not be the best cherry-buster. Even if he wanted to fuck Chris (and Chris was fairly sure he did), and even if he didn't do it like a pile driver, there was still a 99% chance Justin would somehow behave like a total asshole. Make it humiliating enough that Chris wouldn't look back on it with fondness, but with shame. And even though Chris had become adept at submitting himself orally to Justin's whims, he still held onto the faint hope that his anal virginity would be taken a little more kindly than his oral virginity had been.

"Hey." It was a message from ChiTown85.

"Hi," Chris typed back.

"How's your Wednesday? Been humped on hump day, lol?"

"No, lol."

Lol, lol. What the fuck. It's a sex site, I guess it's not surprising he cuts to the chase. But no, lol, I'm not humping right now, lol, that's why I'm online, lol, you dumb fuck, lol.

"2 bad, bro ;P. I'd like humping u."

"Thanks. Got a pic?"

And now came the interminable pause, of course. Would the guy unlock his private pics? If he did, would they even be pics of his face? Or would he demand, "unlock, boy", and then show his own, which would turn out to be only of his penis, or him in sunglasses on a mountaintop 50 yards from the camera? Or, more likely, fall silent, even after Chris showed his scruffy face? Who knew.

10:22. Is Justin coming back tonight or not? If he comes back after 11:30, it's usually just to crash. We both have to get up early. Him to go to class, me to blow him before he goes. Chris sighed.

"Sure, do you?" Chris swiveled back to his laptop. ChiTown85 wanted a face picture first, it seemed. Chris suddenly felt insecure about his face pics. Sure, most guys liked them enough, but it never led to anything.

That's because you're devoted to Justin, dumbass.

Yes, but the guys online still disappear sometimes. Was it because he didn't look masculine enough? Or was the scruff the problem? Did they want someone more boyish? Boyish but masculine?

Chris didn't know, but he was desperate to find something to do. He decided to change out his face pics. Shit, I'm even gonna shave first, he thought.

He picked up his toiletry bucket, and a fresh razor as well. Let's do this right. He walked into the bathroom and ran the water in the sink as hot as he could take it. He dipped his washcloth in the steaming stream, and held it to his face. Soaked his short beard. A few quick dabs of shaving cream, and he was on his way. He made quick work of the facial hair he had so carefully grown and trimmed since the end of freshman year.

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