By Greg Alexander

My situation did not improve over the course of the next several days.

By the end of my first day tied down over the spanking bench, no fewer than 23 alpha males on testosterone overdrive had, in the course of that single afternoon and evening, made me worship their feet and suck their dicks, and then, in punishment for my consistent inability to identify even one of them with the blindfold on, much less recite their sports facts, aggressively spanked and then fucked me.

The spanking, in particular, was excruciating. Nothing, nothing, could quite compare to having 23 muscular athletes in rapid succession deliver a stream of unrelenting punishments to my behind. By the end of the day, my ass felt like it had been seared by a blisteringly hot iron, and it felt like a train had careened through my asshole. My legs were frozen in an wide open spread eagle, my ass was as defenseless as ever, and my inner sphincter and prostrate were throbbing relentlessly from the repeated violent large-scale invasions to which they had been subjected over the course of the past 6 hours. My legs quivered uncontrollably, even though I was unable to move them at all.

Continue reading Frat Boy’s Bitch Boy – Part 12 →

By Greg Alexander

I could hardly contain my excitement when I walked into my freshman dorm room and saw Trevor standing there.

Sure, I had known I was going to be rooming with a big jock, a much discussed new recruit for both the university crew team and tennis teams, and I’d heard he was already planning on pledging Delta Psi, the most hardcore frat on campus.  But I hadn’t realized how stunningly hot he’d be.

When I walked in, he was just wearing work-out shorts, a tight undershirt, and a big pair of white sneakers with no socks, so that his ankle bones were clearly visible.  I almost sprang a boner there on the spot.  He was incredibly tall, with a lean and muscular frame, and broad shoulders.  He had jet black hair, curly yet cropped very short and close to his head, which made him look even more masculine.  His face was boyish, cleanly shaved and with delicate features, but you could tell from his fiery blue eyes the boy meant business.  I knew right away I didn’t want to cross Trevor.

I tried to make conversation with him when I walked in — he was unpacking his socks and underwear and athletic gear from a large, old fashioned trunk in which he seemed to have packed most of his clothing.  As he removed his undershirts and underwear by the bundles, he spread them out onto a padded reclining chair and a large coffee table he had already moved into the room.  He was distant, and his mind was definitely otherwise engaged.

“Whatya up to?”  I asked.

“Nothin.  I’m late for practice,” he grunted.  On his way out of the dorm room, he kicked off his shoes for a second to pull on a pair of thick white tennis socks.  For that one brief second, I caught a glimpse of his bare feet, and my jaw almost dropped.  They were big feet, beautifully tanned, nice and moist too.  I got the idea that Trevor always liked to keep his feet shielded — not a big fan of walking around the dorm room barefoot, judging by his unmarked soles.  Maybe he wanted to make sure they didn’t get spoiled for his tennis games, I thought to myself.

Continue reading Frat Boy’s Bitch Boy – Part 01 →