Halloween Himbo

The leaves were starting to turn and the nights were finally growing cooler when my girl Kara came to me with the suggestion that we throw a Halloween party. We'd been dating for a couple of years and had finally moved in together this past summer, into a little house that, somehow, we'd managed to find within our price range. Nothing fancy, but the neighborhood was nice, walkable to several bars and restaurants and coffee shops. And just being in a house felt like achieving some sort of "you're an adult" milestone that had previously seemed impossible. Kara was good at that, making a reality out of something seemingly unattainable. I was constantly in awe of both the way she made things happen, and her insistence in dragging me along with her. So here we were, in our late twenties, living in a house and play acting at being a responsible couple of responsible adults.

Her suggestion to have the Halloween party was born partly out of boredom and partly out of necessity. We'd both been so locked in with work and other responsibilities that we hadn't really been going out or doing anything recreational. Those bars in our neighborhood that we could walk to from our house? I hadn't been to a single one. I had to seriously think about the last time a drop of alcohol had touched my lips, which was crazy for someone who used to do keg stands on the regular.

All that focus on work also meant that we hadn't had time to have a traditional housewarming party for our new place. Not that we needed gifts or housewares or whatever the fuck housewarming parties were traditionally designed to do. But we did want to show off our new digs to our friends and bask in whatever compliments or, possibly, envy they might have to share. What good was being a mature, home owning adult if it wasn't making anyone jealous, right?

So throwing the party made a certain sort of sense. But honestly, I didn't need much convincing. Once she floated the idea, I was pretty stoked about it. Halloween had always been a favorite holiday of mine. I was a fairly typical, normal dude. About 6'2, sandy brown hair, blue eyes. Decent looking without being obnoxious about it. Or, said another way, without standing out in a crowd too much. I'd always liked Halloween because it gave me a chance to be a little less ordinary. I could pick out a costume and transform myself into something more memorable, in whatever way I wanted. There were an infinite number of ways to lodge yourself in people's memories. The gross-out factor. The luxe factor. The mystery factor. Pick whatever angle you wanted people to remember, build an outfit around that, and you were guaranteed at least a little bit of adoration and infamy.

This year, I made up my mind pretty quickly that the factor I wanted to build an outfit around was "stupid sexy." The only thing I had found time for lately besides work was the gym. I mean, I'd always been fairly athletic. Football in high school, regular gym bro culture throughout college and beyond. But the past several months had been different. Much more intense. Truthfully, I think I turned my focus to the gym because once we moved into the house, the sex between Kara and I suddenly stopped. I don't know why. It had always been decent, both in quality and quantity. But it was as if, in handing Kara the keys to the house, the realtor also handed her the metaphorical keys to a chastity cage on my dick. And so far, Kara had not seen fit to use those keys. That pent up testosterone and energy had to go somewhere, so I went to the gym.

Like I said, I think I'm pretty average, but my recent months at the gym had definitely shaped my body into something better than most. I was proud of the work I'd put in. Well, more than proud. Vain, actually. My torso had grown, thickened out. I wasn't fat or heavy, just solid, a man's body. I now had a solid pair of man tits sitting on my chest that were pretty fun to squeeze and play with when I was bathing. My legs had developed strength and definition, my quads splitting several pairs of work pants before I wised up and bought some in larger sizes. My arms grew, my dress shirts feeling tight, clinging to my biceps in ways that made people look twice when I was in the office. Perhaps most noticeable of all was the growth in my ass. What had once been, to my mind, a normal butt now seemed obscenely juicy and plump. I'd actually watched it jiggle in the mirror after getting out of the shower one day, mesmerized by the rippling flesh.

So yeah, I might not be having sex, but I was proud of my house and my body. Those were the things I wanted to show off at the party, what I wanted people to remember. That said, I didn't want to just dress like a himbo slut and call it a day. I didn't want to be so obvious, like putting on a pair of loincloth underwear and claiming to be Tarzan. I wanted there to be something silly about it, too, an element of farce to distract from the fact that I was clearly just trying to show off how hot my body was. That's an age-old lesson, isn't it? People are much more receptive to your pride and arrogance if you lampoon it yourself, just a little bit. Lets you get away with a lot more.

So I decided that I would go as a "sexy cheerleader." I wouldn't go all out for the costume. The point was for people to see me and my body, unaltered. This wasn't a drag performance. So no wig, no makeup, no fake breasts. Just the clothing itself. Maybe some pom poms as an accessory. Kara rolled her eyes when I told her my idea, but I could tell she secretly thought it was fun. I was also more than a little hopeful that, upon seeing me in the outfit, our dry spell might finally be broken. Booze. Both of us dressed like sluts. My new rockin' bod on display. The exhilaration of a party. It seemed like the perfect combination for finally getting laid.

I found the outfit at a Halloween store. Simple, two pieces, a top and a skirt. Obviously made for a woman to wear. I had bought the largest size they had and I could already tell that it would still be small on me. But that was sort of the point. The tighter it was, the smaller it was, the less skin it would cover. The more I could show.

The skirt, with its built-in panties, went on easily enough. But I won't lie, getting the top on without tearing it was difficult. The material had a natural stretch to it, but even then, I found myself contorting my body into all sorts of bizarre poses in order to get it on. Once I finally had it in place and was checking myself out in the mirror, I was pleased to see that the costume looked both bizarre and sexy on me. It was ludicrous, and would definitely inspire some laughter; but after the initial shock of the outfit wore off, I knew people would see through the ridiculousness and focus on the body I had worked so hard to build.

With no sleeves on the top, my muscular arms were on prominent display. The top also clung tightly to my chest, emphasizing my sizable pecs, which actually kind of filled out the halter. Nothing impressive, but an A cup, maybe? Cut off as it was, there was no hiding my abs. And the compression underwear attached to the skirt made my butt look especially round and pert. I gave my own ass a playful smack, grabbed my pom poms, and headed downstairs.

The party started and people began flowing into the house at a pretty steady rate. At one point, I looked up and saw that Matt, Kara's friend from college, had arrived. Matt was dressed up as a football player, which was almost as funny as me being dressed as a cheerleader, but for opposite reasons. Matt was a particularly lean and scrawny little dude, with practically no visible muscle, and a height that barely cracked 5'6. I often felt like I could push him over with my pinky finger or just blow him over with a heavy breath.

The top of the football uniform looked ridiculously large on his small frame, and it seriously looked like it might send him toppling over if he were to lean too far to one side. He had, like me, also gone the crop top route, and his slim waist and torso were visible beneath the bottom hem of the uniform, his innie belly button rising over the top of his football tights, his hip bones clearly visible through his skin. The helmet, covering his black, curly hair, rattled around on his head as he glanced from side to side. When he wasn't doing Travis Kelce cosplay, his whole vibe was basically "Timothee Chalamet: The Early Years."

I watched him surveying the crowd before spotting me and making his way over, somehow managing to carve a path through the dense horde of people despite his minimal size and strength. The shoulder pads on his costume probably helped. Maybe he was head butting people with his helmet, too. He could be wild like that.

"There's my girl!" he said upon reaching me, giving a thumbs up. I laughed in response and wiggled my pom poms in his face.

"I didn't realize I'd have a real live football player to cheer for tonight!" I teased.

"Kara told me you were dressing up as a cheerleader and I thought it would be fun to match your theme," he said, his grin peaking out under the shadow of his helmet. "My dad would be so proud. He always wanted me to date a hot cheerleader!"

"Yeah, but probably one who was a little less butch," I said.

"Well, beggars can't be choosers!" he replied cheerfully. "And you do look hot. I'm not the only guy here checking you out. You tell me if any of these perverts here give you trouble; I'll tackle them to the floor!"

"Yeah, I bet you will," I said, winking. Realistically, Matt couldn't tackle our cat to the floor, much less a grown man. But I knew better than to assume that Matt meant tackle in the literal sense. Matt was one of the horniest gay men I had ever met. Kara had told me his body count was legendary. He was constantly flirting with any man, gay or straight, within a 10 mile radius, me included. It never bothered me. Again, as someone who mostly thought of themselves as an average dude, I didn't ever really feel like I was in the position to sniff at someone who thought I was attractive, even if they weren't a woman. I was also comfortable enough with my heterosexuality that I didn't mind pushing the boundaries of sexuality and gender every now and again. I mean, I was currently, voluntarily dressed liked a fucking cheerleader.

"I"m just saying, these men better keep their hands off you," Matt continued. "Tonight, you're my girl!"

I shivered. Something in his tone was different, deeper than it normally was when he was flirting. More serious. But I chalked the shivering up to a gust of cold air that blew through when the front door opened, admitting more guests. I turned to greet some more newcomers, and when I turned around, Matt was gone.

The party started to turn up shortly after that. Kara and I played dutiful hosts, showing off the house, refilling the ice chest with drinks and restocking the snacking station, tweaking the playlist when things started to hit a lull. It was a good mix of people, and I could feel myself relaxing into the atmosphere, enjoying the company of my friends and the Halloween punch Kara had made, breathing a little bit easier for the first time in months.

A few hours into the party, I recognized that I was pleasantly buzzed and that I also needed to piss immediately. I walked toward the hallway bathroom on the first floor, only to be greeted by an extremely long line, at the back of which was Matt.

"Rah rah this line fucking sucks!" I cheered, doing a little improvised cheer routine and eliciting a few giggles from the queue.

"Yeah, nice routine, but I'm gonna piss my pants if I have to wait in this" Matt said, turning around to face me.

I realized that I was in a similar predicament. But I also had a solution. One that I figured I'd offer to Matt over the rest of my friends waiting in the line. I mean, I couldn't let my football dreamboat piss himself, right?

I leaned down, my face next to his, and whispered coquettishly "lucky for you, your cheerleader girlfriend can get you the VIP treatment. Follow me."

Matt raised his eyebrows but followed behind me without question. I led him up the stairs and moved the gate we had set up, with its sign informing people to remain downstairs (and to keep our cat upstairs). Then I walked into the primary suite and straight to the toilet in the bathroom, where I promptly whipped my dick out and started to piss.

I had my eyes closed, my head thrown back, enjoying the moment so to speak. "Hot Stuff" by Donna Summer thudded vaguely through the floor of the bathroom and I hummed along for a bit. The silence and calm in the bathroom after the noise of the party was restorative. I felt happy and comfortable, enjoying my solitude while the chaos of the party raged on below me.

But I hadn't closed the bathroom door, being in such a hurry to pee, and so was a little startled when I opened my eyes to see Matt standing at the toilet next to me. He'd taken his helmet off, setting it on the sink counter, his dark black curls spilling around his face, somehow still impossibly full and lush despite being trapped under a helmet for hours. Before I could react, he had whipped his dick out of the football tights he was wearing and was pissing with me.

"Don't cross the streams!" I said, laughing, while Matt moved his stream back and forth across mine. I don't remember the last time I had pissed into a toilet at the same time as someone else. Probably not since my brother and I were kids. But I was instantly reminded of how goofy an experience it was, how much fun it was to make a little game out of it.

But while watching Matt's stream, his swiveling hips drew my eyes toward his crotch, and it was then that I noticed that Matt's dick, even soft, was fucking huge. A large, cut head crowned the end of at least 6 inches of soft, flaccid dick, which itself rested over a hefty pair of low hanging balls. The shaft was a slightly darker shade than the rest of Matt's skin, but the head itself was pink. An unruly mound of thick, dark pubic hair sat above it, which was fascinating. I had always thought gay dudes kept that shit trimmed up, but it looked like Matt's had never seen a razor. Even with all that hair framing it, the dick still looked massive. Thick. Meaty. It looked heavy. Like it had a heft to it that mine lacked. It felt like the Platonic ideal of a cock. Which was bizarre, given that this huge, perfect dick was attached to this twig of a man. Somehow, I was entranced.

I was so engrossed with Matt's dick that I didn't realize we both had stopped peeing. It wasn't until Matt cleared his throat and said "uh, bro, you're staring" that I was jolted out of my reverie.

"Sorry!" I said, giggling a little with embarrassment. "I just... you're kind of a short king! I didn't expect your dick to be so big! It's very... uh... substantial."

"Spent a lot of time thinking about my dick, huh Bryce?" Matt joked.

I blushed. "No! I mean... I was just surprised!"

Matt clapped my shoulder. "I"m just busting your balls, buddy. I appreciate the compliment! And tell you what, anytime you want to look at my "substantial" dick, you let me know. Happy to share." Now it was his turn to wink at me.

"Oh, fuck off!" I said, my face on fire. This was mortifying. Of all the people whose dicks I could have focused on, Matt was the worst possible candidate. Not only would this gas him up more than he needed, but I knew he would never let it go. Every time I saw him from this point forward, even if I were to be with Kara or even people he hadn't met, I knew he'd be making some joke or pun about how much I loved his dick. Fucking fantastic.

I moved over to the vanity while Matt pulled his pants back up over his dick. He then came up behind me while I was washing my hands at the sink, a mischievous grin on his face. "You know," he mused, his hand lightly brushing my lower back before running lower, "your ass looks particularly good in this skirt tonight. Very, as you say, substantial." He let his palm come to rest fully on one of my cheeks, and my eyes widened a bit when I felt him give it a soft squeeze.

"Uh, thanks man" I mumbled. "Been going hard with the lifts and squats lately. Guess it's paying off."

"I'll say it has" Matt replied, his hand still caressing my butt. "Kara is so fucking lucky, getting to play with this whenever she wants."

I barked out a bitter laugh, momentarily forgetting the fact that this man, whose dick I'd just been ogling, was rubbing my ass. "Please. Kara hardly ever wants to have sex. Playing with my butt is, like, the last thing on her to-do list. And..." I paused, suddenly feeling emotionally exposed, or like I was oversharing things about our sex life and inadvertently criticizing Kara to one of her friends. Matt didn't need to know this, did he? Still, I pressed on. "Even if we were having sex regularly, she wouldn't be interested in my butt. She thinks it's too hairy."

"Really?" Matt said, his eyes wide. Then he clucked his tongue. "That's a fucking shame. An ass like this deserves to be worshipped. Kara's entitled to feel however she feels, of course. But a booty this full that's also hairy? That's a fucking dream in my book." Matt paused, his eyes meeting mine in the mirror. "Since you got a good look at what I have to offer... seems only fair that I get a look at what you've got, yeah?"

I hesitated. I was definitely a little drunk and not thinking clearly. I was in a bathroom with Kara's gay friend, whose dick I'd just been checking out, and now he was asking to see my ass. When I'd thought about how the party might go, a situation like this hadn't been on my radar. But now that it was, I was feeling... intrigued? Flattered, even?

But I was also reluctant to go any further. For one, technically Matt and I were already even. I'd seen his dick and he'd seen mine, though that had been accidental and innocent. I hadn't even given a second thought to whipping my dick out to piss in front of him because it basically felt like taking a piss next to your bro at a urinal. It wasn't sexual.

Letting him see my ass for no reason other than to allow him to leer at it, though? That was definitely crossing a line. That couldn't be explained away so easily. Still, I couldn't deny, it felt nice for someone to notice me sexually. If Kara wasn't going to appreciate it, shouldn't I be allowed to get that validation from someone else? Isn't that why I had chosen to wear this outfit?

"Come on, babe," Matt continued to cajole. "Doesn't the football jock get a Halloween treat from his cheerleader girl?"

I rolled my eyes at that. But putting aside his cheesy pickup and other technicalities, Matt was right. I had been staring at his dick in a not exactly innocent way. If I got to perv out a little on him, shouldn't he get to perv out a little on me? And maybe if I let him do this, it would help with getting him to take it easy on me in the future. Less jokes and heavy entendres about the time I gawked at his dick every time we ran into each other.

"Ok, sure, whatever" I said, trying to play it off, sufficiently justified in my mind that I was doing this for reasons that couldn't be impugned. I reached down to tug the skirt and its underwear off, but Matt caught my wrist.

"No. Let me."

Another shiver ran through me.

Matt knelt on the ground behind me and reached his hands up, sliding his fingers under the elastic waistband of the skirt. He then began to peel the garment down, slowly revealing my ass. He tugged the skirt down to just above my knees. I was somewhat shocked to look down and see that my slightly less than average dick was semi-hard. "When did that happen?" I thought.

"Wow, Bryce," Matt stated. "This ass is... wow."

I chuckled. "You don't think it's too pale and hairy?" I asked, trying to ease the tension that had developed, but also genuinely wanting to know.

"I think it's fucking perfect" he said, still sounding awestruck. Then, suddenly, I felt his hands on me, one on each cheek. Kneading, rubbing, squeezing, and then, shockingly, pulling, spreading me open to reveal my hole. "Whoa" I thought. "This is more than looking. I need to put a stop to this." But I felt paralyzed, whether from shock or arousal, I can't say. I just kept staring forward at my reflection in the mirror, my face the only thing that was making any sense to me at the moment.

From behind me, Matt spoke up again. "Your hole is beautiful, Bryce. It's like... this perfect ring, surrounded by a little dusting of hair. Pink and rosy. It looks delicious."

My mouth suddenly went dry. "Uh... thanks, bro" I managed to get out. "Good to know, I guess. Never really looked at it myself. Not sure about that last part, though. No one's ever... done that to me."

"What, eaten your ass?" Matt bluntly asked.

"Uh, yeah. I know gay guys are super into that and all, but girls tend to think it's gross. Or at least, the ones I've been with have."

"So you've asked and they've said no?"

"Pretty much."

A beat. And then:

"Do you want me to do it? Just so you can feel what it's like? Every guy deserves that at least once in his life."

A long silence descended on the room, broken only by the dull thud of bass from the music down below coming up through the floor. I could feel my heart racing in my chest, I could hear myself breathing. I couldn't see Matt, kneeling as he was behind me. But I could feel him. His hands on my ass and, if I concentrated, what I was pretty sure was his breath on my asshole. He must have his face practically in my crack. I suddenly felt a little dizzy, faint, hot. Why wasn't I pulling the skirt back up? Why was I, a straight man, still standing here with my ass out for this gay guy I really didn't know, letting him feel me up?

I didn't have answers to those questions, but I did have an answer for Matt's. "Yes" I said, continuing to stare straight forward, not acknowledging Matt's existence beyond giving consent for him to eat my ass.

Matt didn't hesitate. His hands spread my cheeks as wide as possible, and then I felt the full, broad width of his tongue lick slowly up from my taint, dragging through my crack before passing over my hole. "Oh fuck" I gasped, ecstasy shooting through me. "Do that again."

Matt snickered. "Hell yeah" he said, before once again applying his tongue to my hole. I spread my legs a little wider, or as wide as I could given the skirt binding me around my knees. I also leaned forward, pushing my ass back into Matt's face, resting my arms on the sinktop. I hung my head and moaned as Matt continued his assault. The sounds he was making were disgusting, wet, sloppy. I should have been grossed out by it all. Instead, I never wanted it to stop.

"I was right, by the way" Matt said, coming up for air. "It is delicious."

A blush rose to my face and I smiled inwardly. Part of me thought that it was insane to feel proud of having an asshole that apparently tasted delicious, but another part of me reveled in it. My asshole was made for eating. It was only right that I share that with Matt. My asshole deserved it. I reached behind me, lacing my fingers into Matt's curls and pulling his face into my crack, attempting to bury him between my cheeks. He moaned in delight.

Throughout Matt's tonguing, every now and then a fingertip would brush across or near my hole, seemingly as part of Matt's attempts to pry my ass as wide open as possible. I hadn't been paying that much attention, my focus instead being on the way Matt's tongue felt on and in my hole, but I certainly started paying attention when Matt suddenly stuck his finger inside me.

"Whoa!" I said, jumping forward. "What the fuck are you doing?"

"Uh... eating you out?" Matt responded calmly, like I'd asked the stupidest question he'd ever heard.

"Your finger is in my ass!" I exclaimed, sounding slightly hysterical. Like, why was I having to explain this?

"Yeah dude, that's part of the experience" Matt said. I could feel him rolling his eyes, even if I couldn't see anything. "You straights are so uptight. Getting your ass eaten while someone plays around with your hole is, like, a top tier experience. My bad, I assumed you wanted the deluxe service. Do you want me to go back to just the basics?"

Again, this was said as if I were the one acting illogical. Like he was offering me lobster and I was demanding corn flakes instead. Like me requesting that he take his finger out of my ass was an insane thing to ask.

I knew that couldn't be right. Was he gaslighting me? The sober part of me recognized that Matt was pushing my limits beyond what I had agreed to, but the drunk part of me was having trouble holding onto that. Plus, in all honesty, his finger had felt nice. My leaking, hard cock certainly backed up that assessment. He was only trying to make me feel good, right? No harm in letting him continue? Why shouldn't I have the lobster?

Lost as I was in my thoughts, unable to provide a clear answer, Matt took my silence as agreement and went back to fingering me, while applying his mouth around my hole. Eventually, I noticed that a second finger had entered me, and that Matt was making little scissoring motions inside my hole. I groaned, feeling him stretch me. I was starting to feel less in ecstasy, and was vaguely aware that this seemed to be moving further and further away from having my ass eaten. Alarm bells were ringing inside my head. But I remained silent and motionless.

Suddenly, Matt removed his fingers and stood up. I still couldn't see his face, standing directly behind me as he was, but his hands came down and gripped me on my hips, pulling me back onto him. And that's when I felt his bare cock nestle in between my ass cheeks.

"Wait, are your pants off? When did that happen? What are you doing?!" I asked, panicking. With Matt holding my hips, I couldn't turn around to look at him. I could only see myself in the mirror, my eyes wild with a mixture of fear and desire.

"God, calm down. I'm just going to rub my dick in between these mounds, ok?" Matt explained, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. But it wasn't obvious to me. My mind was at war with itself, processing what felt like hundreds of conflicting thoughts. I was straight. I liked women. I did not want a penis in or near my butt. I was in a relationship. Matt was no longer eating my ass, which is the only thing I had agreed to let him do. This needs to stop.

Nevertheless, replaying the last few minutes in my head, a nagging thought entered my head: had I left the door open on purpose so that something like this would happen? Had I secretly wanted to see Matt's dick because I'd heard about how many guys he'd fucked? To try and understand how this paltry twink got so much ass?

And then, unbidden to the front of my mind, came a stronger, much simpler but unexplainable thought: "say yes." So I nodded my head.

Matt began gliding his penis up and down through my crack. It felt huge, and I tried to estimate in my head how long it was. 7 inches? 8? 9? And girth? It blew my mind to think that such a thick, hung piece of meat could be attached to such an otherwise small guy. It was like all of the muscle and height that Matt should have had got funneled to his porn star level dick. I looked down at my own thin 5 incher in dismay. Feeling Matt's cock slide between my cheeks made me realize how little I was actually packing, and how small it seemed on my large frame.

"Dude, this feels amazing. Your fat cheeks sandwiching my dick like this. Shit." His voice sounded strained, darkened with lust. His hands left my hips and moved down to my ass, pushing the cheeks together around his dick. He moaned low. "Fuck bro." I said nothing, but noticed belatedly that my dick was leaking more precum than it ever had.

Occasionally, especially if he was going particularly fast, the head of his dick would catch on the rim of my hole, or poke me. Every time it happened I would gasp and he would pull away, with a "sorry bro" or an "oops." But I began to notice that he was letting his dick linger longer each time it happened before moving it away. I abstractly realized that he was testing me and my limits, gauging how receptive I was to continued contact between his dick and my hole. It was like every red flag there could possibly be in this situation had gone up. I could see them. I knew they were there. But I couldn't bring myself to acknowledge them or put a stop to what was happening. I was willingly being led to the slaughter.

Eventually, Matt stopped his thrusting and directly positioned his dick against my hole, pressing lightly. His voice rose up from behind me, practically salivating. "Bryce, I'm sorry man, but I just gotta... can I put it in? Just the tip? Just for a few seconds, and then I'll take it out. Please? It's just too tempting."

This was clearly a moment of no return. I knew I should say no. That I'd been tricked. That this had been Matt's goal all along, and I'd been dumb enough to fall for the ruse that he came up with to achieve it. But underneath all that logic was a more primal thought: his fingers had felt pretty good inside of me. Might a dick not feel even better?

Matt was already pushing into me when I choked out "just the tip. For five seconds, ok?"

"Five seconds, bro. You got it" he responded.

I felt a searing burn as he pushed forward, the only lube being the spit he'd applied to his dick and my asshole. I could feel my opening stretching around him, allowing him entrance even as my mind screamed for him to stop. And then, with a pop, the head of his dick disappeared into my hole, my chute clenching around it.

I was panting. Matt was groaning. Together, we stood motionless, each of us adjusting to the sensations we were disparately feeling. At some point, I realized that it had been well more than five seconds, and his dick head was still in my ass. I should tell him to take it out, I thought. This should end.

Instead, I pushed back. Just a fraction of an inch. Basically unnoticeable. Except that Matt noticed. Of course he did. And it was like I'd turned on the green light. With one thrust, Matt buried the rest of his cock up my ass.

"OH FUCCCCCCKKKKK!!!!!!! NOOOOOOOOO!!!!! TAKE IT OUT!!!!!!!! IT'S TOO BIG!!!!! I..... I CAN'T!!!! MATT! FUCKKKKKK" I screamed out in pain. What had formerly been a mild burn was now blinding. I couldn't think about anything else but getting him out of me. My torso reared up from off the sink but, in the same instant, I felt Matt's palm land between my shoulder blades, pushing me back down. A move I had done myself with the women I'd fucked in the ass. The irony was not lost on me.

"Shhhhhhhhhh, Jesus, Bryce! The whole house is going to run up here and see you getting fucked if you don't shut the fuck up! Stop being such a fucking bitch. It's already all the way inside you. The hardest part is over, dumbass."

I was a little shocked at the change in Matt's demeanor. Throughout the experience so far he'd seemed kind, generous, like he was just trying to help me out. Now, with his dick fully buried in my ass, he'd taken on a harder edge. It suddenly became clear to me that the tables had turned. What had started as Matt attempting to show me how good it was to get your ass eaten was now becoming "how good can Bryce's ass make Matt's dick feel." And it was starting to seem like I wasn't going to get much of a say in how that played out.

"Nooooooooo...." I moaned, still incoherent from pain. "Please.... it's... IT'S TOO MUCH... I..... OH OHMYGOD OH FUCKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKK" My protests segued into moans as he started dragging his dick back out of me. In doing so, the ridge of his head nudged my prostate, setting off sparks that, while not negating the pain, blended with it into a sensation that was... well, not pleasurable, exactly. But intense. As he slowly began to move in and out of me, I would grit my teeth through the pain and wait for him to hit that pleasure center again. And the more he did it, the more I wanted it to happen again. First the pain. Then the euphoria. Then the weird combination of the two. It was instantly addicting.

"Man, this is wild. I can't believe I'm fucking your fat hairy ass" Matt said. "You gave it up so easily, too. Fucking dumb slut."

I went to respond, to object, but I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror. My face was red, my hair tousled and messy. My tongue was hanging out of my mouth, my eyes unfocused. I suddenly understood what it meant to be ravaged by someone else. That's what was happening here. How could I protest to Matt when the visual evidence so clearly supported that I was, indeed, a dumb fucking slut who let the first gay man who ever complimented my ass get inside of it? So rather than respond, I just hung my head in shame.

That's when my phone buzzed on the sink counter. A text message from Kara. "Where are you??"

"Matt... Kara..." I halfheartedly tried.

"Bro, what?" Matt scoffed. "My dick in your ass doesn't affect your relationship. This isn't, like, romantic. I'm basically using you as a human fleshlight. You're a cock sleeve to me. A walking cum rag. You think I'm trying to steal you away or something? All those big muscles but you must have a tiny fucking brain to be that dumb. Or are you just so fucking conceited that you think everyone is in love with you?"

I was stung. No one had ever talked to me that way. I was overwhelmed by the sensation of Matt's thick cock inside of me and the weight of his words. The combination of humiliation and horniness was new, and I was more than a little surprised to realize how much I liked it.

"I'm gonna use this ass to bust a nut, and then you can go back to your girlfriend and continue to be her macho man or whatever. But" he added offhandedly, not pausing his thrusting "you better text her back so she doesn't come up here looking for you. I don't think she'd like seeing how good you can take a dick."

I grabbed the phone and managed to type out a quick response. "Felt overwhelmed. Needed some alone time. Will come back down soon." I sent it, along with a desperate prayer that it would be sufficient to keep her from coming to check on me, and a silent apology for the lie. My body burned with shame and guilt, emotions I didn't want to process. Thankfully, Matt's relentless battering of my asshole was doing a pretty good job of distracting me from focusing on anything else.

His hands began spreading my cheeks again, pulling me open, like it would help ease the thickness of his dick. It felt like I was being split in two, broken in half by his cock. I longed for the pain to go away; and yet, every time he began to withdraw his dick and I could feel it receding, I immediately wanted it back. The pain was both unbearable and cherished, and all I could do was grip the sink counter and bite my lip, trying to keep myself grounded, even though it felt like each thrust of his cock into my body was breaking down my sanity. I was losing my mind.

Matt suddenly stopped fucking me, pulling out of me so quickly that I gasped at the loss.

"Bed" he said. Not a request. A statement.

He emerged from behind me, now wearing just the top of his football costume, and strode into the connected bedroom. I stood there, dazed, catching my breath. In a small, dim corner of my mind, I realized I could stop things right now. I could just pull my skirt up and walk out of the room. There was no need to keep going. I wasn't gay. I didn't want to have gay sex. I wasn't enjoying this. Right?

However, rather than follow through on any of those thoughts, I instead pulled the skirt fully down, stepped out of it, and then crossed into the bedroom after Matt. He was laying on the bed, his dick looking outrageously hard and incomprehensibly large. I couldn't believe that it had been inside me. I couldn't believe that it was going to be inside me again.

"Get on and ride me, bitch" Matt said. I scrambled onto the bed and positioned myself, straddling his waist with my thighs. As if on autopilot, I grabbed his dick and positioned it against my hole, then slowly lowered my weight down, letting him slide inside me.

The pain was less intense than it had been before, and it was nice that I could control the speed with which his dick entered me. I also realized that, since I was in control, I could get his cock to more consistently hit my prostate, making the experience much more pleasurable. We set up a rhythm, me gently pushing myself up and down, then occasionally taking him to the hilt and grinding his dick.

"Flex for me, dude," Matt said. "Show me those big himbo muscles."

I flexed my biceps for him, smiling. This is what I'd been waiting for someone to ask me to do all night. Flexing with someone's dick in my ass was, again, not the scenario I had envisioned for showing off my arms, but I was going to take the moment that was given to me. It also occurred to me that doing this might help reestablish a little bit of order to these proceedings. Remind Matt who the real man here was.

"Damn bro" he said, sounding genuinely reverent, the edge in his voice momentarily disappearing.

"Good," I thought. "I'm regaining control."

But then he reached his hands up, gripping my flexed arms. "Excellent leverage" he said, and then started pumping his dick into me, holding onto my arms for support and, indeed, providing him with leverage to snap his hips with a previously unseen strength. The speed and force of his dick jutting up into me knocked the wind out of my lungs, left me gasping. Where did this fucking tiny ass punk find the stamina and strength to pound my ass like that? His hips pistoned up into me with a strength wholly out of proportion to his size. My hole burned, the spit not doing nearly enough to cut down on the friction. I wanted to tap out, but I also wanted to keep going. Unable to consciously make a decision, my body did it for me. My biceps flexed for Matt to hang onto, my legs locked into a position that allowed him to thrust his full hardness into my ass. My eyes started to cross, and I realized I was literally drooling, a string of spit falling out of my mouth and running down my chin.

Matt laughed. "Look at your dumb fucking face, man. You spend all that time in the gym, building this massive body, and then some gay twink comes along and in two seconds you're sitting on his dick, gooning out. You act like those muscles make you some hypermasculine, alpha male, but they're just for show. You're just a little sub, desperate to get bitched out by a big cock."

I felt like I'd been slapped. So much for reminding Matt about my superior masculinity. He'd seen right through me. "That's not true... I... you..." I panted, unsure of what defense I could mount while, indeed, his big cock was bitching me out.

"Sure it's true, baby. But that's ok. I like fucking repressed muscle sluts. They always have such tight fucking pussies."

"Don't... it's not... I don't have a..." again, my protests died on my lips. It was like every time I had one ready, his dick punched into me and I lost my train of thought.

Matt moved his hands from my biceps and slid them under the cheerleader top. "Fucking nice tits" he said, cupping and stroking my pecs. Then, without warning, he viciously pinched and twisted my nipples.

"FUCK!" I shouted, electricity running through my body. It was like there was a live wire attached from my nipples to my dick. Everytime Matt pinched or twisted, my dick would flex, spewing pre cum onto his stomach like a volcano.

"I... don't..." I croaked out.

"What? Don't do that? Or don't stop doing that? Use your words, dumbfuck."

But I had no words as Matt continued assailing my chest and ass, rendering me incomprehensible, literally fucking the brains out of me.

My legs had begun to tremble by the time Matt ordered me to get off. "Lie on your back, fucker" he growled, which I did unquestioningly. It was like I had lost all independent thought.

Matt pulled my legs up to his chest, his cock pressing at my entrance. I closed my eyes and braced myself, waiting for the fullness. But nothing came. I opened my eyes to find Matt staring down at me. He raised his eyebrows, his question implicit.

I shook my head no. I couldn't bring myself to ask for it. Everything that had happened so far had been at Matt's urging, Matt's suggestion. There was deniability in that. A lack of agency that I could use to defend my arguably tenuous heterosexuality. But I'd lose that if I spoke up. If I admitted, to myself and to Matt, that I wanted this as much as he did.

"Ok then" Matt said, and pulled back, letting my legs drop. He got off the bed and went back into the bathroom, then returned, throwing my cheerleader skirt to me while he sat on the edge of the bed to put his football tights back on.

My hole was still winking, fluttering. Even if my mind couldn't admit it, my body knew what it wanted, and the sight of Matt about to put his clothes on and leave pushed me over the edge. I lost whatever self-respect had been lingering, whatever part of me that cared about my sense of masculinity, heterosexuality, dominance. My mind was breathing a sigh of relief, but my body was screaming at me to fix the situation. And unfortunately, my body won out.

"Stop!" I cried out.

Matt stopped and turned to look at me, holding the pair of tights in one hand. "What?" he asked.

"I... don't go. Stay." I managed to get out. I could feel my face turn hot. Embarrassment like I'd never known flooded through my body. Was I really begging a man to stay? And not just a man, this scrawny, measly, gangly boy who two hours ago I had barely given a second thought to? Apparently I was.

Matt stared at me, then started putting the pants on again. "Nah, I'm not really interested in just hanging out here. Think I'll go back to the party."

Fuck, he really wasn't going to make this easy. I was going to have to actually say it. Goddammit. "Matt," I began. He looked back at me. "I... will you... fuck me?" I choked on the words, but I got them out.

He paused. Then shrugged. "No. Sounds like you're not that interested. I don't need a pity fuck."

I groaned. This motherfucking asshole. But I was horny, lacking in any dignity, and apparently totally insane, so I tried again.

"It's not a pity fuck. I... I want you to. No, I NEED you to fuck me. Please."

Matt grinned. "Oh, I didn't realize it was a need! Why didn't you say so, baby? Get those legs up." Before I knew it we were back in the same position, my legs against his chest, his dick against my hole. He looked down at me and this time I knew what he wanted.

"Fuck my ass, Matt. Put your dick in me and fuck me." I couldn't bring myself to say it with any real enthusiasm. But I said it nonetheless.

"Of course, bro!" Matt said merrily before sheathing himself with my hole.

"SHIT. FUCK. You're... UGH... you're so fucking big!" I grunted.

Matt began to thrust into me. In this position, it felt like his dick was literally ramming my stomach. I'd never felt him this deep before, a fact that brought to the front of my mind that sex with penises usually only ended with ejaculation. And I realized that, even in my current state, I had some specific thoughts about how that should go.

"Wait... fuck... Matt... just... will you please not cum in me?" In my mind, I had begun to think that Matt fucking me was really no different than if I had fucked myself with a dildo. And that wasn't gay. Plenty of straight men liked dick shaped things in their asses. But cum? No straight man wanted cum in his ass. That was definitely, specifically, gay. I know this is ludicrous to think, but I truly believed that if I could keep Matt from cumming in me, I could chalk all this up to simply being a straight man who liked having his ass played with and found himself in a unique position to do that. Not a gay sexual encounter.

Matt paused his thrusting and looked down at me, a disdainful look on his face. "Ok, sure. Whatever you want, baby."

"Promise?" I meekly asked again.

"Jesus, Bryce, do you want me to pinky swear while I'm in the middle of fucking you? Take a blood oath while my dick is in your ass? We're kind of busy with other things right now! But yes, if it's that important to you, I promise."

He then resumed his pummeling of my butt. He was pounding me harder than he ever had, grunting with every thrust. My head was being rocked back every time, and it was like his cock head was now laser trained on my prostate. Every thrust set off the sparks, and I could feel a growing warmth and pressure building inside of me. I concentrated on that pressure, the feeling of his dick inside of me. My dick had never been harder, and I reached down to jerk it.

Matt swiftly slapped my face, hard. "Don't touch your fucking dick." He snarled.

"But I want to cum!" I whined.

"You dumb fucking idiot. You are going to cum. From my dick fucking your pussy. The dicks on little faggot sluts like you are basically worthless. Your pussy is where you get all your pleasure."

"I'm not... that's not... I'm not a faggot!" I protested.

Matt just laughed. "No? Ok then" and he pulled out of me. "If you're not a faggot, we probably shouldn't be having faggot sex, then."

I gasped. Despite my protest, Matt's pummeling had been pushing me closer and closer to orgasming. I was right on the line when he pulled out. My body was on fire, every nerve ending tingling. I'd never felt anything like it. And I needed him to push me over the edge.

"No!! Matt!! Put it back in!!" I pleaded, grabbing his dick with my hand and trying to maneuver it inside of me.

Matt sneered. "You're fucking pathetic, Bryce. You wanna continue to play straight, act like my dick isn't blowing your mind, but the second it's out of you, you lose all your fucking cool. I've never seen a bitch be so fucking desperate for cock. It's embarrassing, man." He rubbed his cockhead against my hole while he was saying this, and I couldn't tell if the flush I felt was from that or the way the truth of his insults hit me with full force.

He suddenly plunged his cock back in, all the way to the base, and held it there, then grabbed my chin with his hand and forced my face to look at him.

"I'm done playing games. Stop acting like you don't love this. Tell me how much you like being fucked" Matt said. "Tell me how much you like having my thick cock buried in your ass."

He started thrusting into me, a steady rhythm, instantly bringing me back to the edge. I could barely think straight. I recognized that I was starting to lose all control, of my body and my mind. My head was lolled back, eyes closed. Suddenly, I heard a voice screaming, which I only distantly realized was my voice. It felt disembodied, like it was coming from someone else. I could not reconcile that it was me saying "YES!! FUCK ME!!! FUCK MY PUSSY WITH YOUR HUGE COCK, MATT!!!!! I'M A LITTLE FAGGOT WITH A USELESS DICK!!!! MAKE ME CUM WITH YOURS!!!"

"Fuckin' knew it" Matt said, and lightly patted my cheek. "Just a pussy ass bitch."

I just let Matt's words wash over me. I was too far gone. The orgasm that had been building was taking over. Without touching it, my cock began spurting cum everywhere, up past my head, onto my face, my tongue, my chest. My hips gyrated off of the bed, my whole body flailed, like every synapse was firing at once. It was like I was undergoing an exorcism. I was basically speaking in tongues at this point, some mishmash of swear words and nonsense and Matt's name over and over again, like a mantra or a prayer.

Matt began to, improbably, pound my ass even harder, something I barely registered in my dazed state. But then his rhythm began to get erratic, his panting intensified. "Gonna nut" he wheezed. I panicked.

"No, wait, Matt! Pull out! You promised you wouldn't cum in me!" I pleaded, pushing at his chest.

"Yeah, well, I lied, fuckface." And with that he shoved himself absurdly deep inside of me and held himself there, grunting while his dick flexed inside me, shooting ropes of cum into my bowels. "Gotta mark my territory. This ass is mine now."

Matt collapsed on top of me, his dick still inside of my butt, oozing his DNA into me. My own orgasmic contractions were still rolling through my body, little aftershocks of the main event, and I could feel myself spasming and clenching around his dick, my ass lips fluttering. "Damn, baby, you really wanna milk every last drop out of me, huh?" Matt said and laughed.

"Shut up. Get off me!" I said, squirming underneath him. Matt sighed and pulled his dick out, rolling over onto his back next to me. I could feel cum beginning to trickle out of my abused hole. I reached down to feel my puffy lids and groaned, shooting Matt a hostile look. I was annoyed and angry. The reality of what just happened was setting in, the post sex regret taking hold. The bliss of my orgasm over with, I was suddenly and decidedly unhappy about what transpired and pissed at Matt for breaking his promise not to cum inside my ass.

"Oh please, don't even. You liked it." Matt said blandly.

"Liking something under duress doesn't count" I rejoined.

"Sure it does. You're just trying to find ways to justify for yourself that you're a little faggot who likes getting fucked. It doesn't have to be that complicated, man."

I said nothing, turning over the truth of Matt's statement in my mind.

"That was the tightest ass I've had in awhile. Maybe ever" Matt went on. "Don't be so pissy. Jesus, I thought I'd gotten through to you. You're only acting this way because you think it's how you're supposed to act as some big straight gym bro, but that's not really who you are. You're a submissive little fag, bro! And if I'd pulled out and not cum inside you, you would have been even angrier, believe me. Your cunt needs cum. You may not be willing to accept that yet, but it's true. I was just giving it what it needs." He paused. Then, casually, like he was suggesting getting brunch: "I'll be using it again, by the way."

"The fuck you will!" I exclaimed, outraged. The audacity! The way he thought he knew me better than I knew myself and could just tell me what I needed! But despite all that, a tingle of excitement had gone through my body when he said it. A shudder, somewhere between apprehension and expectancy. I wasn't ready to admit that, though, to myself or to Matt, so I went on. "This was a one time, drunken mistake. No repeats."

Matt sighed. "I thought you might say that. So I took out a little insurance policy." He produced his phone from seemingly out of nowhere. A few swipes, a click, and suddenly my voice filled the room. "YES!! FUCK ME!!! FUCK ME WITH YOUR HUGE COCK, MATT!!!!! I'M A LITTLE FAGGOT WITH A USELESS DICK!!!! MAKE ME CUM WITH YOURS!!!"" He turned the phone to me and there I was, on my back, eyes closed, Matt's cock pistoning in and out of my hole while I screamed and begged for more.

I was aghast. "You... you filmed us??"

"Sure did. And I'll send this to Kara and everyone who got invited to this party if you continue to hold out on me."

"That's... that's blackmail. Extortion. It's illegal!" I exclaimed.

"So call the police."

Matt held my gaze. I said nothing and finally looked away.

"Thought so," Matt said, a smirk in his voice. Fuck my life. This cocky motherfucker, all 5'6 of him, was going to be more trouble than I had ever imagined.

I was about to get off the bed to go clean myself up in the bathroom when Matt spoke up.

"Damn, watching that video got me bricked up again. Think I'll go for another round right now."

I then felt his hands rolling me over onto my stomach (or was I rolling over willingly in anticipation?), and then him climbing on top of me, pushing his newly hard dick back into my now gaping, cummy, ruined hole. Part of me screamed out in discomfort and dismay; but another part of me sighed in contentment and relief, and I pushed back to meet his thrust.