Big Man on Campus
By: Tim
Homecoming had been one motherfucker of a game. Brad's team
won, thanks in large part to the fact that the huge linebacker
sacked the quarterback four times and hurt him so bad on the last
one that the second stringer had to come in, but it was still a hard-
earned victory for the Mustangs. Brad was ravenously hungry, so
hungry he decided to skip the after-game shower and head right for
the parties at the frat houses. Hell, who cared if he stank –
nobody was going to say anything anyway. At 6'5" and close to 270
pounds of muscle, Brad was the most powerful and dominant player on
the team – and for that matter, on campus. He knew he'd find
something at the frat parties to satisfy all his appetites.
Brad stripped off his uniform, pads, jockstrap and cleats.
He shoved the muddy, sweaty equipment into his locker and pulled on
a dirty t-shirt, a pair of unwashed warm-up shorts, and his
sneakers. He slammed the door to his locker and strode purposefully
out of the locker room towards the east side of campus where the
fraternity houses were. Brad liked nothing better than to stir up
trouble at a frat house. Fraternity parties usually had drunk
fraternity brothers, and quite a few drunk fraternity brothers had
ended up inside of the big football player in one way or another
over his four years at State. Tonight would be no exception.
By the time Brad got to the first house on the block, it was
after dark and the post-game celebration was already in full swing.
Lots of the guys had been partying all day, and most of them were
already pretty well lit. Brad helped himself to a full plastic
pitcher of beer from the keg, downing it in several greedy gulps and
tossing it on the floor. People cleared a path for him as he
wandered through the house. He knew generally what he was looking
for, but didn't know exactly where he'd find it - it would have to
satisfy two powerful urges: one in his cock, the other in his
stomach.
Brad climbed the stairs to the second floor, the old wooden
steps creaking under his weight. He swaggered slowly along the
hallway, glancing into bedrooms – and then he found it.
At the end of the hall, the door to Drew's room was cracked
half-open. Brad peered in and saw that there, in the darkness, Drew
was passed out on the bed, lying on his back snoring. He was a real
lightweight and had too much beer that day. Brad smiled. This
would be a great place to start. His cock began to stiffen in
anticipation. He slipped quietly into the room and closed the door
gently behind him.
Once inside, Brad walked over to the bed and assessed his
catch. Drew was shirtless and half out of his jeans, no shoes. He
was 20, smooth-chested, about 5'10", 150 lean, nicely muscled
pounds. Drew was no weightlifter, but stayed active with tennis,
bicycling and mostly swimming. He had short, sandy blond hair and
his face and body were lightly tanned. All in all, a nice-looking
kid. Brad licked his lips.
Trouble was, Brad didn't like to take guys who didn't know
what was happening to them. A lot of the fun and turn-on was
feeling the guy struggle uselessly against his power. Brad loved
overpowering smaller guys who tried to fight him off. There was
simply no challenge in consuming a passed-out drunk frat boy. Brad
reached down and pulled off Drew's jeans, exposing slim, toned,
hairy legs. The guy was a real treat. Brad ran his hand roughly
down the right leg of his tasty prize, feeling his cock jump. Man,
this was gonna be good.
Brad pulled off his t-shirt and dropped his shorts and got
on the bed, straddling Drew's body. He slapped him lightly a couple
of times on the face. "Wake up." No response. "Hey! Wake up,
fucker!" Drew stirred and moaned something unintelligible, but
didn't awaken.
"Fuck," snarled Brad. He liked live meat. This guy was
about as interesting as a package of ground beef. He shook the kid
by the shoulders. "I'm talking to you!" Exasperated, Brad got up
and turned around so that his muscular bare buttocks were directly
over Drew's face. "How `bout some smellin' salts?" he snickered,
lowering his big sweaty football ass down and rubbing it roughly
back and forth on Drew's face. Finally, a response: "Uuuuhhhh….
uhhhh, what the fuuuu….get off, you asshole!" came a muffled
protest. Brad smiled. Now we're talkin', he thought.
The feeling of rubbing his muscular butt on Drew's face was
so good, Brad kept going, pressing his meaty ass down a little
harder and enjoying the feeling of bringing the kid out of sleep to
being completely awake within a matter of seconds. "Ughhhh--- off---
- Fuck you!---- ow---" Brad lifted up periodically to hear bits and
pieces of his Drew's objections. The slender arms thrashing on the
bed and trying to dislodge the 265-pound linebacker had no effect at
all except to amuse Brad and make his cock thicker, longer, harder.
After a few minutes of riding Drew's face, Brad settled
back, burying the kid's face deep in his asscrack. He could feel
Drew squirming and crying under there, and could see his legs
kicking. Something that sounded like muffled screaming vibrated up
into Brad's butt, stirring something deep inside him. Aw, what the
hell. Brad straightened his legs out from a kneeling position and
sat back full weight on Drew's face, at the same time letting his
asshole relax and open. The result was one of his favorite
sensations: his hole opened and the kid's head sank fully into his
ass. Brad started jacking his cock slowly, savoring the feeling of
the struggle going on underneath and inside him.
Drew was now desperately fighting. He had no idea who this
guy was whose enormous ass his head was lodged in, even though he
had cheered for Brad many times that day watching the game. All he
knew was that he couldn't move, he was mired in thick shit, it stank
to high heaven, and he was rapidly running out of breath. Brad
reached down and hooked both his powerful legs behind the knees of
the swimmer. Then he laid back and used his legs to force Drew
slowly deeper and deeper into his ass, relishing the kid's attempts
to push back and escape. Brad had done this too many times: he knew
they never, ever escaped.
Brad took his time slowly forcing Drew into his ass, fully
enjoying both the exertion of using all his muscles to push the slim
young man in and the satisfying feelings of dominating a guy. Even
muscles tired and sore from hammering guys on the football field
liked this kind of workout. Brad jacked himself slowly, precum
oozing from the huge mushroom head of his cock and dripping down his
hand. Sweat poured off his brow and formed on his chest, running
down in rivulets and pooling on his flat belly. Drew was now in up
to his ankles; he was fading fast, but Brad could still feel him
squirming inside. Every time he tried to get free of the thick hot
mess he was in, he rubbed against Brad's prostrate and sent waves of
pleasure through the big jock's body.
Brad's body heat filled the room like a sauna, hot and damp,
the strong, musky smell of jock ass and sweat. His cock was at full
attention, generously lubricated by precum. Brad's eyes closed as
he stroked faster and faster, and then …. the door opened a crack,
and Randy looked in. "Drew?"
Brad's eyes flew open. The only thing left of Drew was his
feet sticking out of the ass of the biggest football player Randy
had ever seen….jacking a fucking gigantic cock…. Randy squinted
into the dark room and wrinkled his nose. It smelled like about a
hundred fucking jockstraps – and it was so fucking hot and humid….
Was he really seeing this? What the hell was going on in here….?
"Hey!" Brad whispered urgently. "You gotta help me out
bud! Come in and close the door! Hurry! Hurry, man!" he hissed.
Brad was used to dominating other guys, telling them what to do and
how to do it, and something in Randy's semi-drunken brain
instinctively obeyed. He came into the room quickly, shutting the
door behind him. As Randy turned to close the door, Brad shoved the
last of Drew into his ass. Drew had given up fighting anyway: it
was time for a second meal. Brad's stomach growled.
For a minute, it was so dark that Randy's eyes didn't
adjust – but Brad had been in the dark for the last 45 minutes and
could see perfectly. He saw Randy stumbling towards the bed, trying
to find a place to sit down, so he reached up and grabbed Drew's
roommate and pulled him down to the bed.
Randy was 5'11", 170, a handsome well-muscled gym jock,
considerably bigger than Drew, but still no match for Brad. All the
workouts of the last year suddenly meant nothing as he found himself
pinned under Brad's huge body. He couldn't even struggle under the
dude's weight, and when he tried to lift his strong arms to push him
away, he simply could not move Brad at all. What's more, the guy's
cock was like a baseball bat sandwiched between them. It was hard
as a steel pipe and hurt like hell. Brad started grinding his big
cock into Randy, driving him into the mattress, his massive chest
muscles squashing Randy's handsome face.
"Uuuuuuhhhhhh…..get….off…..me….fucker….you're….too….heavy…"
Randy could barely get the words out, Brad was literally pounding
the breath out of his body with his aggressive thrusting. The
bedsprings creaked in protest under the onslaught. It wasn't long
before Randy was covered in Brad's sweat and something else…. what
was that gooey stuff? Oh, fuck, the guy was kissing him… or licking
him, or …. What the FUCK?!
Brad mauled his prey hungrily, his cock leaking precum,
every pore in his body sweating, his big mouth laving Randy's face,
head, neck, shoulders with an endless supply of drool….. all this
while pressing and rubbing his cock everywhere: Randy's chest,
stomach, legs, no, no, not on my face…..you motherfucker!
Oh, fuck, thought Randy frantically, this big sonofabitch is
using me as a fucking human cum rag, just something warm to rub
against and get off. Randy was right – but only partly. What he
didn't realize was that in addition to being a warm piece of meat
for Brad to rub his cock against, he was being marinated and
tenderized.
Brad lifted his body off Randy and straddled his chest,
framing Randy's terrified face with his massive thighs and smacking
his face occasionally with his thick meat. Randy was sopping wet,
drenched in Brad's bodily fluids, and exhausted from being ground to
mush underneath the linebacker.
Brad stood up, glaring down at Randy and jacking his cock,
still breathing hard. "I'm so fuckin' hungry I'm gonna take you all
at once," he told Randy. "You're gonna go down fast."
"Wha-what?" Randy croaked weakly, trying to get some air
back into his lungs. Brad didn't answer. He leaned down and picked
up Randy under the armpits and lifted him off the bed. "What're you
doin'?" Randy babbled almost incoherently. He didn't understand
what was going on, didn't realize he was Brad's next meal. Brad
hoisted him up effortlessly, held him aloft, took a deep breath,
opened wide… one powerful thrust shoved Randy's head and shoulders
halfway down his throat. Thick biceps bulging with the strain of
taking down his prey, Brad kept pushing. It happened so fast Randy
never made a sound: he kicked and flailed once, but Brad just
grunted and wolfed him down. Thoroughly lubricated, Randy's smooth
body slid right in with no friction to slow it down.
Brad made good on his promise to Randy: he ate him fast,
pausing only once after the initial shove to rip out a deafening
belch that vibrated Randy jarringly to his very core and expelled
all the air in his stomach. All 170 pounds of Randy were gone in
less than half a minute. As he felt Randy hit his gut, Brad's cock
shot off a load that flew across the room in several spurts of thick
liquid, hitting the opposite wall. Brad belched again, this time so
forcefully the window rattled a little, then sat on the bed, huffing
and sucking air, heart racing. God, what a fucking workout. I hope
there's still some beer left down there, thought Brad. He reached
down and felt his gut: there was no movement, no struggle at all.
Randy never knew what happened; Drew had been less fortunate.
Brad's stomach immediately began digesting his large meal as he laid
back on the sweat-soaked bedclothes, his belly bulging, warm and
stuffed full of food.