FAG

“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.

Earlier in the day, I had spent three hours sucking cock at my favorite glory hole in the basement men’s room of the campus science library. I had drained seven students, three professors, a janitor, a campus security officer, and a dad on a school tour with his kid. 

I had just swallowed the load of a hairy humanities professor with a beer can cock, when an absurdly hot frat boy sidled into the stall next to mine. Score. 

Through the glory hole, I could see the Greek letters ΦΥK emblazoned in large print on his t-shirt. He hesitated, and then bent down to peer at me through the hole. 

“Just stick your dick through,” I directed, rolling my eyes. Frat guys can be particularly clueless at a glory hole. “Stick it in, and I’ll suck you off.”

“Can—can I talk to you first?” he whispered back through the hole. 

“Yeah, but make it quick,” I snapped. “This isn’t a fucking confessional.”

“Right,” he laughed. “I want you to suck me—but not here. Is that cool?”

“What’s wrong with here?”

“I dunno,” he shrugged. “This bathroom is nasty as fuck, and I’d rather be comfortable when getting sucked.”

“Fine,” I acquiesced. “You know another discreet place? I’m not gonna suck you in your car. I’m on probation after getting caught blowing a biology TA in his Hyundai a month ago.”

“No—not my car. I want you to come suck me at my house. It’s on fraternity row, over by—“

“Wait,” I stopped him. “You want me to suck you off at your frat house?”

“Yeah—is that okay?”

“Fuck yeah,” I exclaimed, for it had always been a pipe dream to swallow cum in an actual fraternity house. Frat boys often came to my glory hole, but never asked me back to their house. “But wait, this isn’t like a hazing prank or some other shit?”

“Absolutely not,” he promised. “I just need my big dick sucked, and I’ve heard you’re the best cocksucker on campus. So—you game?”

“Fuck yes,” I blurted out. 

“Come by the house tonight—10 pm,” he instructed. “I’m in the Phi house at the end of fraternity row. It’s brick with white columns, you can’t miss it. I’ll be waiting for you.”

And then he slid out just before a dude in a maintenance uniform pushed his fat cock through the partition. As I  sucked a massive load out of the maintenance guy, my mind drifted, fantasizing about sucking cock in a frat house that night. 

At 10 pm on the dot, I knocked on the door of the Phi house. A raucous cacophony of testosterone-laden voices from inside made my stomach lurch in fear, but I was determined to not chicken out. I trusted this guy. That, and I was horny as fuck. 

“You made it, bro,” the hot frat guy from the glory hole beamed as he opened the door. He was shirtless, his hairy, muscular body on full display. The outline of his big cock was apparent through his athletic shorts. I nearly came in my pants. 

“Come inside,” he beckoned as I froze in the doorway, taken aback by a house full of muscular studs who looked just like him—a gay man’s version of The Stepford Wives. 

The house atmosphere was like an Alpha male convention of at least fifty jacked-up frat guys surrounding a keg in the center of a large room, drinking beer from red Solo cups, laughing and high-fiving each other. Loud music filled the room as a contentious game of beer pong was played in one corner. Nobody seemed to be paying any attention to me—the odd man out. 

“You guys having a party?”

“Nah, it’s always like this,” the frat hottie replied. “Just follow me. I’m taking you somewhere a bit more—private.”

He led me to a room in the back of the house, the noise and chaos fading away. It was a small room, only slightly bigger than a closet with a gray couch covered in cum stains opposite a large screen TV with pussy porn playing. A blonde porn bitch was riding a large cock with two more big dicks sword fighting in her mouth. Respect. 

“We call this room the masturbatorium,” he began to explain, closing the door behind us, “because we—”

“Jack off in here?” I surmised. 

“Yup—and sometimes more,” he winked, taking a seat on the couch and directing me to do the same. I did as told, my eyes fixated on the outline of his big cock through his shorts. 

“You ready to suck it?” the frat hottie asked as he thumbed his bulge. “Suck me good, and you’ll get a nice surprise when I’m done.”

Hoping that surprise would be a warm shot of his cum down my throat, I quickly slid off the couch and positioned myself on my knees. Pulling off his athletic shorts, his big cock nearly smacked me in the face. Eight inches, thick and veiny, a drop of precum at the tip, his cock rested atop a set of round, full plums that were aching for release. 

“Yeah, it’s a big one,” he bragged, smacking it against my face. “My girlfriend creams hard on it when she rides me.”

“Why—why do you want me to suck you when you have a girlfriend?” I wondered aloud. “She on the rag or something?”

“Nah, man,” he laughed. “She just won’t suck dick. You ever met a sorority girl who throats cock? Pussy action only with her. So I gotta find dudes like you who will throat my big one when I’m in the mood for some head. Enough chat—let’s see what you can do.”

Showing off a bit, I skillfully swallowed his entire eight inches in one gulp, mashing his balls against my chin. My tongue worked his shaft as I stayed down on it.

“Fuckin-A,” he cried out, his hand on the back of my head. “Now that’s how you suck a dick. Damn, bro.”

Grabbing me by the ears, he held me down on that big cock, his cock head abusing my tonsils as he began to thrust rapidly, his hips convulsing up and down at a rigorous pace. I was gagging on it, red faced, unable to breathe. 

“Yeah, fucking choke on this big dick,” he barked, slapping the side of my face before finally releasing me. Gasping for air, I took one deep breath before he forced me back down on that big cock, pumping my throat like a pocket pussy.

I had never been face fucked so good.

“Damn—you sure can take it, bitch,” he slapped my face again, his meaty hands gripping into my skull, forcing it up and down on his rigid shaft at a breakneck pace. “You gotta mouth pussy on you.”

His balls were hitting my chin hard, saliva running down them, soaking into the couch cushions. I reached up and grabbed his hairy pecs with both hands, attempting to brace myself against his assault against my throat. I’d never seen such stamina in a dude. It couldn’t last.

“You want my cum?” he demanded urgently. “You want me to shoot this fuckin’ load down your throat?”

“Mmpft mmpft,” I nodded, his cock still buried in my gullet. And then I felt it—a swelling in my throat, a slow pulsing that began to increase in frequency.

“FUCK,” he bellowed, his cock erupting down my throat, his warm seed satiating my hungry belly. “Yeah, bitch. Swallow this fuckin’ nut. Yeah—that’s it.”

“Damn, dude,” I gasped when he finally pulled out of me, cool air enriching my oxygen-deprived lungs. “That was the best face fucking I’ve ever had.”

“You took this big dick like a champ, bro,” he winked, his spent cock flopped against his hairy thigh. “I heard you were the best cocksucker on campus, and it was no exaggeration.”

“Thanks,” I blushed, wiping cum and saliva from my chin with the back of my hand. 

“I have just one question for you,” he locked eyes with me. “Are you hungry for more?”

But before I could respond in eager affirmation, amazed that he could already go another round, the door to the room opened abruptly. A beefy, hairy frat guy stood in the doorway, eyeing the sordid remains of my encounter with his frat brother.

“You done with the cocksucker yet?” the beefy one demanded. “The guys are getting restless out here.”

“Yeah, I just fed him. He’s the real deal,” my frat hottie responded, getting up from the couch and pulling on his shorts over his spent cock. “Tell the brothers to queue up for their turn with him.”

“All right guys,” the beefy frat guy yelled down the hall. “Time to line up. You know the drill. One at a time. No cuts. Each brother gets ten minutes to bust down the cocksucker’s throat. Repeats allowed once every guy has had a turn. Got it?”

Flopping down hard on the couch, the beefy frat guy pulled out a big, hairy cock attached to a massive set of bull balls. I immediately began to salivate. 

“What’re you waiting for, cocksucker?” he barked, grabbing me by the back of my head and shoving his big, hairy cock down my throat. “You’ve got fifty-eight impatient brothers out there waiting to feed you some cum, so get to work. It’s gonna be a long night.”

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

“Licking dirty shoes?! And sniffing nasty, sweaty feet? And pits?! Eating sweaty ass, smelling farts, begging guys to hork in your face. What the fuck is WRONG with you?! Do you know how fucked up that makes you? You are lower than low, faggot. You are dirt to me, you sick fucking homo. You’re not even fucking human in my eyes.”

i struggled to put a sentence together, stumbling over my words, my face totally flushed.

“I have dirty shoes. Would you lick those? My feet stink, and they’re fucking dirty… would you beg to sniff and lick My feet, faggot?”

i squirmed at the question, and my silence said everything. His eyes got wide, and a grimace of utter disgust came across His face.

With the parents out to dinner, your stepbro grinning mischievously…. It’s only a matter of time before he has his feet smothered against your face. Either pushing you into the cushions at the end of the couch or keeping you on the floor, his feet covering your face completely. You don’t know if he suspects you like this treatment or if it’s just his way of showing playful dominance over you. Ever since you told him that his feet smelled and to keep them away from your face, this has naturally been his go-to way of teasing you. The bottoms of his bare feet pushed into your face longer and longer, no matter how much they smell, you love that this is the routine he’s fallen into. Sometimes you think he forgets that you are there, his soles just used as your face's personal footrest. 

When I arrived at my dorm building and told the woman at check in my name she gave me a baffled look. “Charlie Hoover? Sorry love, you’re in the wrong spot. Says you’re living in apartment 2H”. This was startling to me. “Uh sorry are you sure? I registered to live in a single in this dorm building months ago” 

The woman at the desk knitted her eyebrows and looked at the screen in front of her. “Hmm that is odd. According to these records you were moved to apartment 2H just last night.” The woman put her index finger to her lips and then just shrugged it off. “Oh well. Off ya go!” She smiled almost dismissively. 

I hesitated and almost walked away, but thankfully I’ve been working in my confidence. “Sorry uhm actually could you see about moving me back to my original room? I don’t have any friends here and don’t really want to live in an apartment with strangers…” 

The woman gave me a soft look and replied “I can’t do that love, especially since all of the dorms are booked up. I suggest you find your apartment and then write a nice email to the housing department in a couple weeks once you’re settled in.” She smiled me away again and this time I went with the current. 

Back in my car I was panicking as I typed my new apartment into maps. Why was I moved to an apartment, and last night too? 

My car slowly meandered towards the back ends of campus where the upperclassmen apartments were. Driving through the parking lot I saw various students unpacking their cars with friends. Finally I arrived at row H where my apartment would be. And to my surprise most of the students unloading there were tall jocks. Was this the athletics block? 

I gathered my two suitcases and my back pack and began to trek across the lot to the apartments, scanning them for 2H. Once I spotted it I approached and used my key to open the door. 

Inside there was music bumping and the apartment smelled… well let’s just say it smelled lived in. I climbed the stairs dragging my bags along with me and once reaching the top I saw three guys. The first two were tall muscular jocks. One blonde and one with dark brown hair. They were intimidating in their own right but it was the third guy who caused me to lose my breath. 

Standing across from me was my high school bully, Brogan Thorpe. Except now Brogan was massive. I’ve heard of the freshmen twenty but it looks like Brogan got a freshmen twenty, sophomore twenty, and junior twenty. Not only was Brogan chubbier in his face and body but he now had a full greasy beard. 

Once Brogan spotted me a huge grin spread across his face and he shouted “there he is! Man of the hour! The Fart Hoover!!” 

I was panicking again. I wanted to run but I had no where to go. How was this happening?! The two other guys laughed at me along with Brogan. I was in shock as Brogan walked across the room with purpose. Brogan gripped my neck with his big calloused hand and forcefully guided me away from the stairs and deeper into his den. Or I guess I should say our den. 

“Trev, Greg, this is the famous Fart Hoover.” Brogan declared as he pushed me down on the couch and then sat down next to me. Trevor, the blonde, gave me a dopey smile and waved to me. While Greg narrowed his eyes at me sort of scaring me. 

I spoke up for myself for the first time since entering. My voice like a mouse. “My name is Charlie…” 

Brogan laughed at me again and then threw his giant arm over my shoulder. He pulled me in closer to him. I was overwhelmed by his BO. “No need to be modest Hoover. The boys know all about your fart sucking passion. His real name is Fart Hoover”. Brogan declared, emphasizing the world real.

My face burned crimson. How is this happening? “H-how i-is this happ-happening” i was shivering in fear. 

“Awww buddy!” Brogan began to jab at my ribs. I winced and tried to pulled away but his arm over my shoulder held me close. “My uncle’s the Dean. So when i found out you were transferring i had him move you in with us. Last minute too so you had no way to get out of it. And now you’re here all year and you get to be my full time Fart Hoover. More than you ever were in high school” Brogan Trevor and Greg all laughed 

“We had beans for breakfast for you Fart Hoover!” Trevor interjected with cheer. It was mortifying to hear some guy I just met already call me by my humiliating high school nickname. 

In high school Brogan was considered the hottest most popular guy. But early in our freshmen year, at a party, Ashley Lieu one of the most popular girls in our grade said she thought i was more attractive than Brogan. I remember feeling confident for the first time ever in that moment but Brogan shut that down quickly. 

“Him? Nah, no way. What’s your name?” Brogan asked me dismissively. “I’m Charlie Hoover” I reached my hand out to Brogan which he ignored. “Hoover?!” Brogan laughed and the rest of the group joined in with him. “Here i got something for you to vacuum up, Hoover”. I was taken aback by his statement. Brogan stood up and pushed his butt right in my face ripping a loud long squeaker on my face. “Come on deep whiffs Fart Hoover!” Brogan didn’t move off my face until i took deep inhales through my nose. 

The guys in the group all laughed while the girls shouted things like “ewww”. It was safe to say after that Ashley Lieu did not find me attractive anymore. That was also the last party i was invited to for all of high school. And from then on Brogan made it his mission to fart on my face whenever he could. All of high school i was known as the Fart Hoover. Brogan and all his buddies would pin me down in the l locker room or in the bathroom just to make me sniff ass. Sometimes they’d corner me after school and make me sniff each of their butts and farts. The worst was when Brogan would ‘sneak’ me into his wrestling practices so him and some teammates could practice pins on me. It was disgusting, humiliating, and took me a long time to get over…

Brogan ripped a brutal sounding wet monster of a fart on the couch next to me pulling me from my self induced flashback. “Awww Bro!” Trevor and Greg burst out laughing along with Brogan at the fart. I stared at Brogan in horror watching his scrunched up face shift to pleasure as he finished farting. And no sooner than finishing Brogan’s arm slithered off my body and repossessed my neck. Brogan stood from the couch quickly and forced my face directly into the cushion he was just sitting on. 

The stink overwhelmed me instantly. Oh my fuck. It smelled of stinky eggs. “Deep whiffs!!” Brogan shouted as he smeared my face into the warm cushion. I don’t know if it was his body warmth or the fart but between the heat and the stink I felt like i was suffocating. Regardless, like i was on autopilot i began to sniff the fart with earnest. Sucking the cushion with passion. 

Brogan, Trevor, and Greg cackled at my eager fart sniffing like they were animals. “Oh my god Bro! You weren’t kidding!” Trevor shouted and Greg added with disbelief “that’s so disgusting dude” 

I sniffed and i sniffed until I could it smell any more of Brogan’s rotten egg fart. And shortly after i stopped sniffing Brogan released his hold on my neck. 

Instead of standing I slipped down onto my knees and looked up at the three jocks in the room with me pathetically. Trevor was on me in a second. “Fuck bro I’m not waiting. I’ve clenching my cheeks all morning. It’s aboutta smell good”. Trevor jokingly raised the octave of his voice as he said the word good. Trevor had his hand in my hair and yanked my face into his perky gym shorts covered butt. 

Trevor’s butt smelled musky and sour. “Oo that feels weird” he remarked at the feeling of my face being mustered in his butt crack. “Looks gay as fuck” Greg said sounding disgusted. 

With no warning a deep bassy fart bellowed out of Trevor’s butt and onto my face. Instinctively I began to whiff and whiff and whiff. Burning my sinuses with Trevor’s fart. I gagged but continued to sniff. The guys all laughed at the funny sounding fart and even more at my pathetic deep sniffing. “Damn you love this shit Fart Hoover. Just wait until after one of my hockey practices” Trevor remarked. 

After Trevor let go of my hair and stepped away from me I couldn’t even bring myself to look up. I was disgusted with myself. I’d worked so hard the last three years. I was finally becoming a man but in a matter of seconds here I was again. Nothing a but a Fart Hoover. 

“Let’s go Greg! You talk big all the time about how your farts are the worst. Prove it with Fart Hoover.” Brogan goaded Greg to take a turn with me. 

Greg scowled. “Yea my farts are the nastiest! But this is weird. I don’t want some losers face in my butt” 

Brogan reached out and grabbed my face, squishing my cheeks between his gross fingers. Directing my gaze upwards towards Greg. “Aww come on dude. It’s not weird he has a face made for farting on!”

This made Greg laugh a little. “Okay, I guess I have to agree his face does look perfect for farts.” 

Brogan let go of my face. “That’s the spirit!”

I didn’t even want to start thinking about what it could possibly mean that my face looked perfect for getting farted on. 

Greg approached me again wearing his darkened look. Eyes narrowed nose slightly scrunched. Looking at me like I was disgusting to him. “You want farts, Hoover?” He said with an aggression. Nearly spitting on me.

I glanced at Brogan and he raised his eyebrows looking at me sternly. I knew what the right answered was. My voice shook. 

“Yes please” 

Greg smirked and then turned around presenting his butt to me. Greg then pulled down the back of his sweatpants and boxers exposing his bare ass to my face. Greg’s butt cheeks were covered in thick black hair and long wiry hairs tangled out of the whole length of his butt crack. I gasped at the sight while Trevor and Brigham howled with laughter. “Might as well give him an authentic experience, buns out” Greg shrugged.

“Dude you were calling us gay a minute ago and now you’re letting the pussy touch your bare ass?!” Trevor teased 

Greg turned mooning his friends. “Fuck off, if your ass was half as hairy as mine you’d he using it to your advantage too”. Greg shook his butt at them and then turned back to my awaiting face.

The miasma of heat emanating from Greg’s butt had me feeling woozy. His hand gripped my hair and guided my face into his butt crack.  Greg’s butt crack was so hairy and so damp I felt sick. He rubbed my face around in there a bit too! Wiping his butt sweat all over me. And then he unleashed a guttural blast. It lasted so long and the sound was squishy and gross! I was struggling to break free of his grip and get my nose away from the stink but Greg wouldn’t let me go. I gagged and cried. But more importantly I sniffed! I sniffed as hard as my nose would allow! I was the Fart Hoover! This is my purpose! No! Wait that’s wrong! My name is Charlie!

Oh fuck I was gonna be sick. Greg’s butt and fart were disgusting and I couldn’t stop sniffing! 

Finally letting me go I slipped from Greg’s hairy butt. My face was wet. Be it sweat or butt slime. “So gross dude” Greg remarked as he pulled his pants back up and walked away from me into the kitchen. 

I felt so defiled. “Alright Hoover, follow me. Let’s get you unpacked in your bedroom”. Surprisingly, Brogan grabbed both of my suitcases for me and carried them back towards my bedroom for me. I sheepishly followed behind him. 

“See ya in a few fart face” Trevor called behind me. 

Arriving in my room Brogan had already begun to unpack my clothes for me. He did so carelessly. Mixing underwear with shirts and jeans with socks. I’d have to reorganize later. Brogan glanced at me continuing to unpack my bags with a speed. “Close the door and make your bed.” He demanded. And I obeyed. 

I hated letting him boss me around. I thought I was better than this and yet…

I pulled my sheets from my bag and started making my bed. By the time I finished Brogan had also ‘unpacked’ the rest of my clothing. No quicker than I tucked in my last blanket Brogan had pinned me on my bed. His massive chubby body squishing me into the mattress with ease. Our faces were inches apart and he stared at me with that disgusting sadistic lust. Brogan leaned in slightly closer and then belched right into my face. It was wet and sounded horrible so close up. And the stench was rotten. 

Our eyes remained locked and I whimpered at Brogan. He responded by lightly blowing his burp air into my face. And I sniffed! Oh fuck I sniffed so deeply. It smelled so nasty! I gagged under his body weight. How could someone’s burp smell so badly!? Does he ever brush his teeth?!

Brogan chuckled at me. “Good Fart Hoover”. Brogan then lifted himself off my body but pinned my wrists with his hands and slid his crotch directly over my face. Brogan then began to lightly hump and tea bag my face. His navy blue mesh gym shorts were so musky and provided little barrier. “I’ve missed you Hoover” Brogan said softly as he continued to thrust on my face. He then slid forward so his butt was on my face. “Please, you’re so disgusting!” I cried beneath him. 

“I’m disgusting?!” Brogan sounded offended. “Nah I think you’ve got us mixed up bud” And I heard a hot silent fart hiss from his cheeks. It burned so badly. The stench was of eggs hot boiled stinky eggs. I sniffed it all. I sniffed it all with a gusto. Brogan laughed at my inhales. “You’re disgusting Hoover”. 

Brogan then readjusted himself so he was facing my feet. “Case in point. You missed me too huh?” Brogan said as he flicked my rock hard dick that was nearly sticking out of my khaki shorts. That’s right…. There’s a part of me I’ve been keeping secret.

After Brogan had first farted on me back in the day it turned into a regular thing. He farted on me so much, every day multiple times a day, that I started to find him and his farts arousing. I think it was a defense mechanism. Brogan had literally conditioned me to fall in love with his stinky ass and nasty farts. No matter how much I told myself I hated farts they’d still turn me on.

And Brogan knew what he did to me too. When we were in public or with his friends his bullying was cruel but in private, just the two of us, he got erotic. There were times when he’d make me touch myself while forcing me to sniff his farts. A part of me even believed for a bit that Brogan liked me and farting on me in the same way I liked him. But that was all too good to be true right? Brogan had numerous girlfriends over the years. And yet even when he was in a relationship he’d send me snaps of himself farting with captions like “go jerk off to this Hoover”. 

I spent my formative years obsessing and fearing Brogan. But after spending the last three years apart and getting some therapy I thought I’d finally moved on from him and his farts. I hadn’t even jerked off to anything fart related in over a year! I was so proud of myself for finally making a man of myself. All for it to crumble beneath Brogan’s swampy ass. 

A deep gurgly fart grumbled from Brogan’s butt. It vibrated my entire face. “Fuck, Hoover. Sniff that shit” Brogan moaned and began to lightly bounce on my face. I’d missed this so much. I inhaled with all my might which caused me to gag aggressively. 

Brogan hopped off my face and the bed. Once standing he yanked his shorts and boxers down. I looked over at him, now just wearing his stained tank top. Brogan’s massive thick hairy thighs and beefy butt in full view and I was in love again. But of more important note Brogan’s dick was standing at full mast. 

Brogan looked down at me and licked his lips and then began to rub his cock. “You’re gonna sniff mine, Greg and Trev’s farts every day Hoover. You’re going to suck them all up like the good Fart Hoover you are.” Brogan squeezed his dick and his eyes rolled back. “I’m going to make you eat my farts every day and you’re going to thank me for it”. I couldn’t believe Brogan was jerking off in front of me. He’d never gone this far before.

I couldn’t resist any longer, my hand slipped into my shorts and I began to rub my dick as well. Brogan continued. “I’m gonna fuck so many chicks on campus and afterwards you’ll be here to sniff my sweaty ass and farts. That’s all you’re good for!” 

We were both jerking off with a ferocity now. Brogan is perfect. I love his chubby belly. i love how much he stinks. I love how mean he is to me. “And you’re not allowed to have sex Hoover. Not that you could get anyone in the first place. But you belong to me. My farts are your sex” 

This made me cum in my shorts. Brogan was right his farts are my sex and they always have been. I’ve never been with a girl or a guy. And despite trying to find new sexual interests this last year the truth I’ve always known is that nothing turns me on like farts, like Brogan’s farts. 

“Your farts are my sex!” I moaned out like a pathetic bitch. It was the loudest I’d been since entering my new home. I seemed to surprise Brogan but excite him. His cock now slurping as he slid up and down it. And then he came. Shooting cum all over my bed. He continued to jerk himself off until his dick deflated. And then he wiped his slimy hand on one of my pillows. 

Brogan leaned over my face, his balls grazing me until he settled his bare ass on my nose. His butt was sweaty and he slowly moved it around on my face. Almost like he was trying to pet my nose with his butt crack hair. “I’m happy you’re here Hoover.” 

I was mortified and disgusted with both myself and the state of Brogan’s nasty butt which he was smearing on my face. But more importantly I couldn’t have been happier.  And I was looking forward to however Brogan would humiliate me next! 

I’ve made a good living as a cash master for years now. But recently business is off.

I did some snooping and found out 12 of my clients had abandoned me for this dude:

He’s hot, sure, but I don’t really get the appeal.

I’m trying to figure out what do to. Help me out.

I set up a session with Cash Master Jeff, calling myself Slave Boy tom.

When I signed in, I could see the surprise on Jeff's face: he wasn't used to a guy as hot as me fagging out to him. Well, he had more surprises coming!

I told him I'd never done this before, but that I'd seen him online and couldn't stop thinking about him. He smiled. "But I'm not sure I can bring myself to turn over tribute." He smiled more broadly and said, "We'll see, tom."

Then he started giving orders. I followed them like any cash fag would. "Take off your shirt." I did. He said, "nice and hairy, show me your pits." I did. "Take off your pants." I did. I could tell he was impressed by my package, nicely displayed in my gray briefs.

"Do you like what you see, Jeff?"

He responded, "It's all right, but remember to call me 'Master', boy!''

"Yes, Master."

I asked if he would take off his shirt for me. At this point, if I were the Master, I would have the slave give me some token tribute before complying. But Jeff just pulled off his shirt. He echoed my words, "Like what you see, boy?"

I responded, "It's very impressive, Master, but you don't have much hair, do you?" I ran my right hand over my hairy chest. "Not like me."

He looked a little nervous, I thought. "Would you take off your pants?" I left out the Master this time, and he didn't correct me. A good sign. He was at least unconsciously recognizing the real man in control.

He unzipped and stepped out of his pants. Fuck, his bulge was impressive, framed in those white Calvins. He ran his hand over his hairy leg, "Plenty of hair here, tom, don't you think?"

I ignored the question. "Will you turn around for me, Jeff?" Again, this is a point at which I would have asked for tribute, but again, he just did what I asked. His back was beautiful, muscled, rippling. And the Calvins gripped his ass just right.

I had him just where I wanted him, and now I stopped asking and started ordering. "Pull down your briefs." If he was going to balk, now would be the moment. But he didn't even hesitate. The briefs were down at his knees.

"Show me your pussy!" A moment's hesitation, then he grabbed his cheeks, pulled them apart. His tight pucker winked out at me.

"You ever been fucked, boy?" I could hear him gasp, then he answered, "No," and a hesitation, then, "Sir."

I correct him, "It's Master, boy!"

"Yes, Master!"

Fuck, this was turning out to be easier than I thought. "Well, I'm gonna be the first to fuck you! Lick your finger and then bring it back to your hole."

He obeys me. "Play with that pussy." He does it.

"Look back at me, boy!" He does: My cock is on display, hard, red, ready. "This is gonna fuck you!"

I order him to turn back around, and play with himself. He inserts his finger in his hole, then adds a second, and a third. "That's what my dick will feel like."

I close my eyes, imagining the scene that he's imagining. Me hunched behind him, cock lined up with his hole, ready to thrust into him. Taking his cherry. Making him completely my boy, my slave.

But when I open my eyes, the scene has shifted. Jeff is facing me, briefs pulled up, smiling. I start to speak, "What the ..." But he interrupts me. "Let's cut the pretense here 'Cash Master Tom,'" he speaks my online name with contempt. I'm shocked that he knows who I am. "You gave it your best, but there's no way you're turning things around on me. I know just how 'good' you are from your former slaves. And that's not nearly good enough to make your plan work. I mean, look at that dick."

I realize I'm still exposed. And my exposed dick is still hard. I see a little precum leak to the floor.

He continues, "How big is that thing?" I answer, "Eight inches." He laughs. "Get a tape measure, boy!" His commanding voice doesn't allow for any argument. I get up, fetch a tape measure from the kitchen.

"Measure that dink!" I measure it. "Show me!"

I show him the tape measure, my finger marking the length of my cock. He reads off the number "Five and a half inches! Impressive!" The sarcasm drips from his voice. "No wonder your boys are leaving you in droves."

He laughs, "You want to compare it to mine, boy?"

I gulp. "Yes, I do."

"Ask properly."

"Please show me your dick, Jeff, um, Master Jeff!"

"All right, but first I need some cash from you. How much would you charge a slave to show him your dick?"

"Um, $100."

"All right, tommy, send me $250." I hesitate, but open the cash app, and I transfer the cash. My first tribute, and my dick gives a little jump as I finalize the transaction.

"Good cash slave, tommy!" I shiver when I hear his words.

He pulls down his briefs. His dick is soft, fat, nestled in his luxuriant blond pubic hair. He has a tape measure ready, pulls it down along his soft cock, shows me the measurement. I read it aloud, "Six and a half inches."

"Even soft I'm more man than you, boy, isn't that true?"

What can I say? "Please, can I see it hard?" I'm humiliated by my own words but that doesn't stop me from saying them.

"Another $250." $500 is what I would get from a whole hour's session, and he's asking for it just to see his hard cock.

I pay him. "Now, kneel and lick the screen." I do what he says. "Tell me how you'd get my cock hard, boy."

"Oh, Master, I'd lick that beautiful shaft. I'd kiss the head. I'd taste your pre. I need that cock in my mouth. Oh, it's getting so big. How big is it now, Master?"

He pulls the tape and measures his semihard cock. I read off the number. "Eight inches. It's so big, Master, are you going to fuck my throat with it. Please fuck my throat, my skull, please."

He's fully hard now and he measures his dick again. It's eleven inches. He asks me, "So, 11 divided by 2 is how much, tom?"

"Five and a half."

"So, what can we conclude?"

"You're twice the man I am, Master." As I say it, I feel completely deflated, but my whole body is electric with excitement.

"That's right, slave. Look, I don't have much more time for you today. I have a session with your former boy Chris in five minutes. But we're gonna do one more thing today. Fetch a razor, boy!"

I go and get my razor from the bathroom. "Take off the stache."

My dick is so hard and it jumps again as he gives me the order. I raise the razor to my face, and I chop away at the stache, till it's gone, just a few stray hairs remaining. I've had the mustache since I was a teenager. Now it's gone. "Good boy, you can clean it up after we're done, and shoot again while you see what I've done to you."

He continues, "But first, you're gonna cum for me now. Tell me, how much money is in your account."

"$5400 dollars."

"Give me $5000, now."

I set up the transaction, see him smirking at me as I do so, and as I press send, my cock erupts, shooting jizz all over me.

"Good boy!" and he's gone.

I go to the mirror in the bathroom, look at my bare face. I clean the rest of my stache off my face. What's just happened is running through my head and my cock is still hard and aching. I open the cash app, see the $400 that's left. I slap my cock with one hand as I hold my phone with the other. I look at my bare face in the mirror. Just as I send the rest of my money to Master Jeff, I shoot again.

But this morning I get an unexpected lift. Chris, one of the slaves I thought I’d lost to Jeff hits me up. He’s one of my richest clients, and I think, this should be good for a couple thousand!

Usually, Chris stays dressed for our sessions, but sometimes he really craves humiliation. Today he’s just wearing briefs that hardly fit around his flabby thighs.

“So, you’re back. You haven’t been getting what you need.”

He doesn’t answer directly. With need in his eyes, he pleads for me to take off my briefs. “Please, Master, I need to see your dick. It’s $100, right?”

I smile. “My prices have gone up.” I think, should I ask for 250, but then I have a better idea. “Pay me what I’m worth.”

He fiddles with his phone, and then mine pings. I get that exhilarated feeling of being worshiped. I look at my account. What the fuck!?

He’s paid me $5.50. I must look ridiculous: Chris laughs.

“A dollar for every inch.” Fuck, Jeff’s told him about our sessions! Or, the idea occurs to me for the first time and my heart sinks, he’s shown him a tape of our session.

“Now, show me your dick, little man.”

Chris has never been like this. For the first time I hear the voice of the confident businessman. And I pull off my briefs.

“Hard already, boy?”

I look down at myself. My dick is hard as a rock. “Measure it!” The tape measure is still right here. I measure my dick.

“Looks more like 5” than 5 1/2”—a little boy’s cock, just like mine.”

I’ve seen Chris’s dick. It’s truly tiny. The idea that mine is like his is humiliating. He must know what I’m thinking. He says, “Whose dick is superior, Tommy, yours or mine?”

No way this is happening! I shake my head, thinking it must be a bad dream. Then I hear myself saying, “Yours is superior, Chris.” And then, even more humiliating. “Please let me see it.”

He smiles. “How much is in your account.?”

I don’t have to check: “755.50.”

“Give me $750 and you can see my dick.”

I’m not gonna do that. No way.

I pick up my phone. Shit! I send him all my money, except for the $5.50.

My cock is throbbing, exposed to him.

“You like that! You love it! paying tribute to your fat former slave.”

He pulls down his briefs. His dick is hard and wet. I’m thinking, it can’t be more than 4”, and as though he’s reading my mind, he says, “3.5.”

“Tell me again, whose is superior.”

“Yours is, Chris.” My whole body is tingling with humiliation. “Please let me suck it.”

He smiles, “But that would cost you. Hit me up when you can afford it.”

And he’s gone.

I look at my image on the computer. All I see is some desperate cash bitch.

I think of naked Chris and his tiny cock. Then Jeff’s big dick. They’ve both owned me this week. I head their laughter.

My first year of college left me in debt, so I took a summer job doing construction. The work was tough, but the money was good. However, the best part of the job was getting to look at Bubba, the crew foreman.

Fuck, Bubba was hot with his deep voice, his sexy beard, and his shirt perpetually undone to reveal his hairy chest. And the massive bulge in his work pants left no doubt that the dude was hung like fuck. Unfortunately, Bubba was also the most homophobic man I’d ever met.

“Fuckin’ faggots,” he would mutter under his breath if two guys holding hands walked by the construction site. He was always telling gay-bashing jokes. Shit like:  

How do you fit three faggots on a barstool? . . . Turn it upside down. 

Or if one of the crew pissed him off, or we did something wrong, he’d quip, “You motherfuckin’ faggots can suck my big, fat, hairy dick.”

I suspected Bubba just might be a faggot himself. Sure, he was married with kids, but I knew that didn’t mean shit. I had also learned in a first-year psychology course about the concept of reaction formation, in which toxic masculinity and constant homophobia can sometimes be a cover-up for repressed homosexuality. Bubba had all the signs of an alpha, hetero dude who secretly fucks guys on the side. I was determined to prove it.

It had been a rough day on the job site and Bubba had been particularly aggressive toward the crew. It was apparent that he needed his balls drained. There was an abandoned parking garage directly across from the job site, which gave me an idea. While Bubba was bitching out a problematic sub-contractor, I scrawled out a quick, anonymous note and tacked it discreetly to his abandoned clipboard: 

Fuck my tight ass. Parking garage. 5:15 pm. Discretion assured.

I knew I was taking a huge risk. Bubba could show up merely to out me as a faggot and then promptly kick my ass. But I had to take a chance. I wanted his big cock inside me in the worst way.

Bubba blew his whistle at 5 pm, signaling the end of the work shift. The crew scattered, cleaning up and securing equipment and materials for overnight. By the time I locked up some tools, it was nearly 5:15 pm and there was no sign of Bubba. I made a beeline to the abandoned parking garage.

“Christ almighty,” Bubba smirked through his sexy-as-fuck beard when I entered the garage. “I should have known you’re a faggot,” he spat. Bubba stood with his arms folded across his hairy chest, staring me down for what felt like an eternity. This was the moment of truth. Would he kick my ass . . . or fuck it?

“Drop your pants, faggot,” Bubba ordered. “Show me that cunt.” I dutifully complied, undoing my pants and bending over to show him my ass. “Yeah, look at that tight, pink pussy,” he admired, his thick fingers exploring the puckered folds of my hole. “Get up against that wall, faggot,” he suddenly barked.

I braced my hands against the wall as Bubba pulled my pants down to my ankles. I could hear him undoing his belt, unzipping his pants, and spitting on his cock. There was a slight pause and then suddenly—WHAM—his massive cock was inside me.

“FUUUUCK,” I screamed, feeling as if my insides had been ripped in half.

“Shut the fuck up, faggot,” Bubba hissed in my ear. “We don’t want someone coming in here.”

I nodded in assent and gritted my teeth as Bubba placed his broad hands on my shoulders and began to pummel my hole. The initial pain had mercifully subsided, my hole stretching to accommodate his incredible girth.

“You like this big dick in your boy pussy?” he demanded, jackhammering my hole. “You like me destroying your cunt with my big dick?”

“Yes, I love your big—” I began to answer.

“That’s yes, SIR,” he scolded me, spanking my ass with his open palm. “You call me SIR when I’m using your hole. Got that, faggot?”

“Yes, sir,” I replied, my hands scraping against the wall as he battered my intestines with each violent thrust.

Despite his authoritarian demeanor, I had never had a cock as big as Bubba’s up my ass, and I was loving it. I didn’t want it to end, but Bubba’s balls had other plans.

“You want my cum, faggot?” Bubba demanded urgently, his low-hanging balls slapping my ass with rapid intensity.

“Yes, sir. Fuckin’ breed my cunt,” I begged, my face pressed against the wall.

Bubba was jackhammering me hard when he suddenly stopped mid-thrust and grunted, “FUCK—DAMN.”

Instantly, I felt his cock throbbing inside me as his balls released his warm load. Bubba held still inside me as spurt after spurt of his cum flooded my depths, coating my bowels with his seed.

“Shit, that was some good pussy,” he exhaled, pulling his spent cock out of me. A warm gush of his pearly load instantly expelled from my wrecked hole and ran down my right leg.

I remained there motionless, the side of my face still pressed against the wall as I listened to Bubba stuffing his wet cock back into his pants and zipping up.

“I’ll kick your ass if you tell anyone about this, you hear?” Bubba threatened as he walked away.

“Yes, sir,” I agreed, still pressed against the wall with his cum flowing out of me. “My lips are sealed.”

“Oh—and faggot?” Bubba turned to ask just before exiting the garage. “Have your ass in here after work again tomorrow. This big dick wants more of that sweet cunt.”

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