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“Nah. I’m good,” I assured him, grabbing the greasy bag through my window, tossing it onto the passenger seat. “You’re Brax, right? Brax Jennings?”

“Uh—yeah,” he acknowledged quizzically, not recognizing me.

“I’m Dylan—Dylan Parker,” I reminded him. “We went to Central High together.”

“Okay,” Brax shrugged with no apparent recollection of me.

“You don’t remember me?” I prompted. “You fucked me once.”

“Dude. You must be thinking of someone else,” he spat. “I don’t fuck guys.”

“Umm—you fucked me,” I insisted. “You and Curtis Wright and about twelve other guys. You all tagged me in my basement.”

“Jesus,” his eyes got wide. “That was you?”

“Yeah,” I nodded. “I’m not surprised you don’t recognize my face, since you mostly saw my ass and the back of my head.”

“Right,” Brax laughed awkwardly. “Some crazy shit went down that night.”

Some crazy shit, indeed.

My parents went out of town a week after graduation. Repressed and closeted, I was determined to finally get my ass cherry popped. But how? I had been the only gay guy at my school, a lone wolf with no playmate in sight. But I soon had a plan.

My next door neighbor was Curtis Wright, quarterback of the football team. Curtis and I were hardly friends, but he was at least nice to me. When I offered up my house to Curtis and a few of his football buddies, along with a shitload of beer, Curtis gladly seized the opportunity.

Getting the guys was easy. Procuring the beer was more of a challenge, since I wasn’t yet twenty-one. But with a little ingenuity, I was able to score a free keg at the local beer shop. Ten minutes after closing, the balding, married owner fed me his load in exchange for a keg of Bud. His cum was thick and pungent, but getting that free keg was worth swallowing every last drop of his warm jizz. Everything was going to plan.

That evening, with my parents away for the night, Curtis and twelve of his buds from the football team, including the legendarily hung Brax Jennings, showed up to my house. With an ample supply of beer and pussy porn playing on my dad’s big screen in the basement, it wasn’t long before they were all drunk. Soon, with their big dicks pulled out, they were jacking to a blonde porn bitch in a cheerleader skirt getting banged by a crowd of hung porn jocks.

Bending over a chair adjacent to the TV, my hole pre-prepped and ready, it was only a matter of minutes before one of the football studs mounted my virgin cunt, grunting his load into me as the other guys watched and cheered ecstatically.

For the next six hours, the hung football studs—guys who would never dare to acknowledge me in school—tagged me over and over, dumping load after load in me. Go big or go home, right?

Brax had the biggest dick in the group, which was no surprise. His conquests were extensive. Girls at school opened their legs for him simply for the bragging rights. His ten-incher was the Mount Everest of Central High—a mountain I climbed five times that crazy night, Brax dumping his load in me each time.

And so, four years later, when I had finished college and moved back home with my parents while I looked for a job, I made it a priority to get Brax’s ten-inch dick in me once more. When I found out he was working at a fast-food place up the street, the chips fell into place.

“How long you worked here?” I asked Brax as he stood awkwardly at my car, in no hurry to get back to work.

“Six months. It’s just a job,” he shrugged. Brax had always been the epitome of the dumb jock at school. All his brains were in his big cock, it was often joked. “College didn’t really work out for me.”

“You wanna hang out some time?” I offered, knowing his answer in advance.

“I dunno, dude,” he evaded predictably. “I’m kinda busy most of the time.”

“You wanna fuck my ass again?”

“What?”

“You heard me. You want to fuck my tight ass again? Get that big cock in me?”

“I don’t—I’m not sure—” he stammered, his cock expanding in his pants, betraying his intentions.

“I tell you what, Brax,” I announced. “I’m going to park here and go inside to use the bathroom. If you want to fuck my ass within the next five minutes, you’ll know where to find me.”

“Whatever,” he mumbled dismissively before turning to go back inside the restaurant.

I followed Brax inside, hanging a right at the pickup counter, and traversing the long hallway to the men’s room. It was a single occupancy bathroom, thankfully. I wasn’t in there thirty seconds before Brax barged inside.

“We gotta make this quick,” he barked, securing the latch on the door. “I could get my ass fired for this.”

Dropping my pants and bending over the sink, my ass pre-prepped and ready like before, I presented my pink, puckered hole to Brax. “Shove it in me,” I commanded, knowing time was of the essence.

“I can’t believe I’m fuckin’ doing this again,” he mumbled under his breath, unzipping his pants, pulling out that ten-incher. His meaty hands were at my hips and then—BAM—Brax was inside me.

His hands moving to my shoulders, Brax began his assault on my hole, pounding the living shit out of me. My hands gripped the sink, his big cock routing my depths, stretching my hole to the max.

“You take a lot of dick in college?” Brax asked, his balls smacking my ass.

“Yeah,” I exhaled, barely able to speak, my mind flooded with memories of the many fraternity parties in which, locked away in some remote room, I took cock after cock—frat guys breeding me over and over. “Yeah—I guess you could say I was a bit of a slut.”

“That’s fuckin’ hot,” Brax approved, smacking my ass. “I love a slutty bitch.”

This slutty bitch was loving him—more specifically, his huge ten-incher. Jesus, it felt good inside me, my eyes rolling back into my head as Brax pummeled me.

“I’m getting close,” he barked urgently. I tightened my sphincter, gripping him from within, milking him. “FUCK—Oh SHIT—Here it comes.”

A shock wave pulsed through my depths, an orgasm so intense that Brax shoved me forward, my head hitting the mirror over the sink. But I didn’t care. I was too busy relishing the feeling of his cum inside me once more, grinding my ass on him as his balls emptied in my void.

“I gotta get back to work,” he announced abruptly, pulling out of me, his load escaping my gaping hole and splatting onto the nasty bathroom tile.

I went back the next day, but this time I didn’t bother placing an order. Brax caught my eye as soon as I walked in the door. Five minutes later, he pounded another load into me as I gripped the bathroom sink. And so our daily fucks in the restaurant bathroom commenced. Brax never turned me away, always eager to dump a load in me.

It was over an order of curly fries, during his lunch break one day, that Brax confessed why he was always so eager to fuck me. It turned out having a big dick was no longer enough to score pussy. Girls our age wanted more than bragging rights—they wanted flowers, jewelry, expensive dinners. On Brax’s meager paycheck, he couldn’t afford any of that. Thus, his right hand became his only partner for sex—until my hole became available to him.

We had a good thing in that bathroom every afternoon, but all good things must come to an end. Brax was balls deep in me one day, at the precipice of orgasm, when his manager walked in on us. Brax had forgotten to latch the door. Startled at being caught, he pulled out of me just as he was cumming, his pearly load spraying my ass and the floor. Brax was fired immediately, grateful the manager didn’t press charges for public indecency.

Things only got worse for Brax. His parents, tired of supporting his lazy ass when he couldn’t keep a job, gave him a week to move out. When he texted me, wanting to meet behind the bowling alley to fuck me in my car, I gave Brax the good news.

I had gotten a job and no longer needed to live with my parents, having signed a lease for an apartment that morning. The place was a one bedroom, but Brax was welcome to share my bed—provided he was willing to drain his balls in my ass on a regular basis. It was an offer he couldn’t refuse.

So Brax now lives with me. I’m not going to pretend that he’s my boyfriend—it’s nothing like that. Brax is more like a living, breathing, life-size, fuck doll with a ten-inch cock who drinks all my beer and never remembers to lower the toilet seat. But it’s a small price to pay for living with an enormously hung himbo who pounds my eager ass with his big cock as often as I want.

Stories are fiction and intended for readers 18 and up. All characters are assumed to be legal, consenting adults.