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Hey, first time posting (I think) and I'm kinda lazy, so I used AI to write this, mostly. Nonetheless, I think it's pretty hot so I hope you'll enjoy! Trevor strutted through the bustling university quad, his muscular physique and confident gait drawing envious glances from the sea of students that parted before him. His baseball cap sat slightly askew on his head, casting a shadow over his piercing blue eyes that seemed to gleam with the promise of unbridled passion and dominance. His broad shoulders and powerful biceps, the result of countless hours in the gym, rippled beneath his letterman's jacket, leaving little to the imagination. The sun kissed his golden hair and tanned skin, a testament to the countless afternoons he had spent on the baseball field, mastering the art of the home run and the subtle dance of the perfect catch. As he approached the library, his thoughts drifted from his upcoming game to the clandestine desires that haunted his dreams and filled his solitary moments. His heart raced at the thought of the powerful, rough hands of a gruff trucker, the gentle yet firm touch of an experienced daddy, or the surprising strength of a bear who could handle his athletic frame. The whispers of his secret cravings grew louder as he pushed open the heavy doors, the scent of aged books and dusty knowledge mingling with the faint musk of his arousal. The cool, quiet embrace of the library was a stark contrast to the chaos of the outside world. Trevor sought refuge in the farthest corner of the building, where the echoes of footsteps and hushed conversations couldn't reach him. His eyes scanned the rows of books, finally landing on a tucked-away section of the adult literature shelf. His pulse quickened as he pulled out a book titled "The Muscle Bitch's Awakening." The cover depicted a muscular young man bound and gagged, surrounded by a group of diverse, older men who leered at him with unabashed lust. He hurriedly found an empty study carrel, his heart pounding in his chest. As he thumbed through the pages, the vivid descriptions of the muscle-bound hero's submission to his new masters brought a flush to his cheeks and a thickness to his cock. The scenes of public humiliation, the raw, animalistic gangbangs, and the endless streams of cum filling his body were so intense that he could almost feel the ropes cutting into his own wrists and the hot breath of his tormentors on his neck. The quiet was suddenly pierced by the sound of footsteps growing closer. Trevor's heart skipped a beat as he tried to compose himself, sliding the book into his backpack just in time as Professor Harris, the burly, bearded economics professor with a penchant for leather, rounded the corner. The professor's eyes scanned the area, lingering on the empty chair in front of Trevor. The young athlete felt a bead of sweat roll down his spine as he feigned interest in his economics textbook. "Trevor, I've been looking for you," Professor Harris rumbled, his voice a mix of authority and something else that made Trevor's cock twitch. The professor leaned against the desk, his leather elbow patches scraping against the wood. "I noticed you've been having some trouble with your last paper. I think you might benefit from a private tutoring session." Trevor's breath hitched as he met the professor's gaze. He had always felt a strange attraction to the man, his gruff exterior and knowing smirk hinting at secrets and experiences that the young jock longed to explore. "When would that be, sir?" he asked, his voice a little too eager. "How about tonight, after the library closes?" Professor Harris suggested, his eyes darkening with a glint of interest. "My office is in the basement, you won't be disturbed." Trevor swallowed hard, his imagination racing with images of what this private session might entail. He nodded, his voice a whisper, "Yeah, I'll be there." The rest of the day passed in a blur of anticipation and trepidation. Each hour that ticked by only served to heighten his excitement and fear of the unknown. Would Professor Harris uncover his deepest desires? Would the professor be the one to finally give him the domination and degradation he craved? As the sun set, the library grew quieter, the final whispers of students fading away as they vacated the hallowed halls of knowledge. The clock chimed the hour, signaling that it was time for his rendezvous. Trevor's heart hammered in his chest as he made his way to the basement, his footsteps echoing through the empty corridors. The air grew thick with the scent of leather and something else, something primal, as he approached Professor Harris' office. The door was ajar, and a sliver of warm light spilled into the hallway. Trevor pushed it open, his eyes immediately drawn to the professor sitting behind his desk, his fingers toying with the edge of a leather-bound book. Professor Harris looked up, a knowing smile playing on his lips as he took in the sight of the nervous jock. "Ah, just the man I was expecting," he said, gesturing to the chair in front of him. "Take a seat, Trevor." Trevor's legs felt like jelly as he approached the chair, his eyes darting around the room. It was a cluttered space, filled with books and papers, but it was the collection of leather restraints and sex toys displayed openly on the shelves that truly caught his attention. His cock grew even harder in his pants as he sat down, his palms sweaty against the cool leather of the chair. "Now, about that paper," Professor Harris began, his eyes never leaving Trevor's. "It's clear you have a... unique perspective on the economy. But I think we might need to explore some alternative methods to really bring out your potential." The professor's tone was low and seductive, sending shivers down Trevor's spine. He nodded, his voice a strangled sound. "Whatever you think is best, sir." Professor Harris stood up, his large frame seemingly swelling in the dim light. He walked around the desk, his steps deliberate and predatory. Trevor's eyes followed him, unable to look away as the man stopped right beside him. The professor's hand reached out, gripping his chin firmly and tilting his head up. "You've got such a pretty face, such a strong body," he murmured, his thumb tracing the line of Trevor's jaw. "But it's your obedience I want to see first." Without another word, Professor Harris opened the top drawer of his desk and pulled out a shiny silver keyring adorned with leather cuffs and chains. Trevor's eyes widened as he recognized the tools of his most secret fantasies. The professor leaned in, his beard brushing against the student's cheek as he whispered, "You're going to be my muscle bitch tonight, aren't you?" Trevor's cock throbbed in his pants, begging for release as he nodded, his voice a barely audible murmur. "Yes, sir." Professor Harris' smile grew wider, his eyes gleaming with satisfaction as he stepped back. "Good boy. Now strip," he ordered, his voice firm and unyielding. Trembling with anticipation, Trevor stood and began to remove his clothes, revealing his god-like physique inch by inch. The professor's gaze roamed hungrily over him, taking in every detail, every curve and ripple of muscle. As the last piece of fabric hit the floor, Trevor felt more exposed than he ever had before. His cock jerked in response to the power dynamics playing out before him. He was the alpha jock, yet here he was, about to submit to the whims of his professor, a man he had secretly lusted after for so long. Professor Harris' eyes narrowed as he took in the sight of Trevor's naked body. "You're even more impressive than I imagined," he said, his voice thick with desire. He gestured to a bottle of baby oil on the desk. "Now, let's get you all oiled up. You're going to pose and flex for me, really show off those muscles. It's all part of the psychological conditioning." Trevor's hands shook as he picked up the bottle, the cool liquid sloshing against the glass. He began to dribble the oil over his broad chest, his muscles jumping and tensing with every touch. The slick, viscous fluid slid down his abs, coating his body in a sheen that made him look even more like a statue come to life. His heart raced as he felt the professor's gaze on him, his own self-consciousness mixing with the thrill of submission. He spread his legs, showing off his firm, muscular thighs and the thick, heavy bulge between them. As he flexed his arms, his biceps popping and his triceps bulging, Professor Harris stepped closer, his hand outstretched. "Let me," he said, taking the bottle from Trevor's trembling grip. The professor's hands were warm and rough as they began to spread the oil over his pupil's body, starting at the shoulders and working down to the small of his back. The older man's touch was firm, yet gentle, each stroke seeming to release a new wave of tension in Trevor's muscles. The jock couldn't help but moan as the oil was rubbed into his chest, the professor's thumbs circling his sensitive nipples. He watched in the mirror on the wall, his own eyes wide with a mix of shock and arousal as the professor's bearded face hovered over his, the leather of his jacket creaking with each movement. The professor's hands continued their journey, sliding down to his abs, tracing the deep lines of his six-pack before moving lower to cup and squeeze his heavy, swollen balls. "You're going to be my little plaything," Professor Harris murmured, his breath hot against Trevor's ear. "You're going to love every second of it." The young athlete's knees almost buckled as the professor's hand wrapped around his cock, stroking it with a firm grip. He couldn't believe this was happening, that his darkest desires were playing out in the very place where he was supposed to seek academic enlightenment. Yet, here he was, naked and oiled up, being manhandled by the very man who held the key to his academic success. "On your knees," Professor Harris ordered, his voice deep and commanding. Trevor complied, his muscles quivering as he knelt before the professor. The man's leather boots filled his vision, and he felt a strange sense of peace wash over him. This was where he belonged, at the mercy of his superior. Professor Harris leaned down, his leather jacket brushing against Trevor's oiled skin as he attached the leather cuffs to the young man's wrists. The cold metal of the handcuffs clicked into place, sending a jolt of electricity through his body. The professor then fastened the ankle cuffs, securing them to the legs of the chair. Trevor was now bound, completely at the mercy of the man he had fantasized about for so long. The professor stepped back, admiring his handiwork. "Very good," he murmured, his hand trailing down the line of Trevor's spine, sending shivers down the jock's body. "Now, let's see what kind of muscle bitch you truly are." He reached into his pocket, pulling out a small black remote. With a flick of his thumb, the room was suddenly bathed in a soft red light, and the sound of leather slapping against skin filled the air. Trevor's eyes went wide with excitement as the professor approached him, a leather paddle in hand. The first strike came down hard on his left shoulder, and he couldn't help but let out a gasp of pleasure. The sting was delicious, a stark contrast to the softness of the oil on his skin. The second blow landed on his right cheek, leaving a warm, tingling sensation that spread across his backside. The rhythm grew steadier, each smack of the paddle sending a jolt of painful pleasure through his body. With every strike, Trevor felt his muscles tighten, his body responding to the dominance of his professor. The pain was a sweet release, pushing aside the stress of his life, the expectations of his peers, and the burden of his secret desires. The room was filled with the scent of leather and oil, the sounds of skin on skin echoing through the otherwise silent library basement. His cock was rock hard, straining against his stomach, begging for attention. Professor Harris noticed the effect he was having and chuckled darkly. "It seems you enjoy this more than you're willing to admit," he said, placing the paddle aside. His hand caressed Trevor's reddened skin, his touch almost tender as he trailed his fingers down the jock's spine. "But we're just getting started." The professor opened his desk drawer again, revealing an array of toys and devices that made Trevor's eyes widen. He pulled out a thick, black dildo with a leather harness attached. "This," he said, holding it up for Trevor to see, "will be your new best friend tonight." Trevor's heart raced as Professor Harris approached him, the harness jingling softly with each step. The man's scent was intoxicating, a mix of leather and something darker, something that made the young athlete's knees wobble. The professor's hands were deft as he adjusted the straps, positioning the dildo at the entrance to Trevor's tight, untouched hole. Trevor felt a thrill of fear mixed with anticipation as the cold, slick head of the toy nudged against him. "This is going to be a real education for you," Professor Harris murmured, his voice thick with lust. "You're going to learn what it's like to be used and owned." He pushed the dildo in slowly, watching with a cruel smile as Trevor's eyes widened and his body tensed. The young man bit his lip to stifle a cry as the toy filled him, stretching him wider than he ever thought possible. The sensation was overwhelming, a mix of pain and pleasure that he had only dreamed of experiencing. As the professor worked the dildo in and out, he reached into another drawer, pulling out a shiny, chrome butt plug. Trevor's eyes grew even larger as the man lubricated it with oil, his mind racing with the knowledge of what was to come. The plug was thick and tapered, and as Professor Harris pushed it into his stretched hole, the jock could feel the muscles clench around it, trying to resist the intrusion. The burn was intense, but the feeling of being filled, claimed, was unlike anything he had ever experienced. Professor Harris must have noticed Trevor's struggle because he paused and leaned in close, whispering, "Take a hit of these, it'll make it easier." He held out the bottle of poppers, the amyl nitrate fumes wafting up to tickle Trevor's nose. The young man took a tentative sniff, feeling his head spin and his body light up with a sudden rush of euphoria. The world around him grew hazier, his senses more acute. As the poppers took hold, the pain from the plug melded into pleasure, a deep, primal ache that made him want more. He nodded eagerly, and the professor pushed the plug deeper, the metal warming to his body temperature, filling him up completely. Trevor could feel his hole clench around the toy, his body betraying his desire for this kind of treatment. The room swam around him as Professor Harris began to pump the dildo in and out with a rhythm that matched the thundering of his own heartbeat. Each thrust sent waves of sensation through his body, making him moan and squirm against his restraints. His cock was a steel rod, desperate for any kind of contact, but the professor was cruel in his attentions, ignoring it completely as he focused on the jock's ass. Trevor felt the beginnings of a climax building, his body tightening and his breath coming in ragged gasps. The professor's hand found its way to his neglected cock, stroking it with a firm yet gentle touch that had him teetering on the edge. "Not yet," the older man murmured, his voice a low growl of command. "You're going to come when I say you can." The jock's eyes rolled back in his head as the professor's fingers tightened around his shaft, the leather of his gloves adding a delicious friction. He could feel his body straining, begging for release, but he held back, his muscles quivering with the effort. The room was a cacophony of sounds, the slap of leather, the slick slide of the dildo, and the grunts and moans of his own desperation. Professor Harris leaned in closer, his hot breath a stark contrast to the cold metal of the handcuffs biting into Trevor's wrists. "You're doing so well," he crooned, his voice a dark promise of things to come. "But now it's time to show you who's really in charge." With a flick of his wrist, the professor produced a studded leather strap, the metal rings glinting in the dim light. He wrapped it around Trevor's thick neck, securing it with a deft click. The young man could feel the studs pressing into his skin, a constant reminder of his subjugation. The professor tightened the strap, making sure it was snug but not too tight. "Breathe," he instructed, and Trevor took a deep breath, feeling the leather constrict slightly with each inhale. Professor Harris stepped back to admire his handiwork, his own arousal clear in the bulge pressing against the front of his pants. He circled Trevor like a predator, his eyes never leaving the bound student. "You look so beautiful, my little muscle bitch," he murmured, his voice a gruff caress. "Now, let's really get to work." The professor's hand reached out, tracing a line from the collar around Trevor's neck down to his chiseled chest. He pinched a nipple, watching with satisfaction as it hardened into a tight peak. Trevor moaned, his body arching into the touch despite the pain. The professor chuckled, a deep rumble that seemed to resonate in the very marrow of his bones. "I can see you're enjoying this," he said, his voice a dark purr. "But we're just getting started." He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small, shiny object. Trevor's eyes focused on it, trying to make out what it was. It was a tiny silver key, and the professor held it up to the light, watching it twinkle as he approached. The young athlete's breath hitched as the professor leaned down and unlocked the leather collar around his neck, replacing it with a new one that was equipped with a thick, shiny O-ring. "This will be your new collar," he said, his tone possessive. "A symbol of your submission to me." The professor stepped back and unbuckled his own belt, the sound echoing through the small room like a gunshot. He pulled out his cock, thick and hard, and began stroking it with a practiced hand. "Now," he said, his eyes never leaving Trevor's, "you're going to show me how much you really want this." He moved closer, positioning himself in front of the bound student. "Open your mouth," he ordered, and Trevor obeyed, his jaw dropping as the professor slid his cock between the jock's lips. The taste of leather and sweat filled Trevor's mouth as he began to suck, his tongue swirling around the velvety head. Professor Harris's hands found their way into his hair, guiding the rhythm, pushing him deeper with each thrust. The jock felt his throat stretch and burn as he took the older man's length, his own desires growing stronger with each gag. He had never felt so alive, so in tune with his body's need for submission. The professor's grip tightened, his hips moving in a steady rhythm as he face-fucked his pupil. Trevor could feel the man's balls slapping against his chin, the heat of his lust radiating through the leather. He moaned around the cock in his mouth, his own body responding in ways he had never allowed before. The pain and pleasure melded together, creating a symphony of sensation that made him want to scream. Professor Harris leaned in closer, his beard brushing against Trevor's cheek as he whispered, "You're doing so well, such a good little slut." The words were like a brand, searing themselves into the young man's soul. He had never felt so degraded, so used, and yet it was everything he had ever wanted. The professor's strokes grew faster, his breathing more ragged. Trevor could feel the man's orgasm building, his cock swelling in his mouth. He sucked harder, eager to taste the salty release that was just moments away. The anticipation was almost too much to bear, his own cock aching and desperate for attention. -
I want to know what other's experiences are like with broken condoms, whether purposefully breaking them or accidental and whether you feel it as a top or a bottom. For me, if I've used an oil based lube, and can reasonably expect it to break, I have felt it break or know when it breaks fucking as a top. The very first time a condom broke (because it was expired) I was unaware as it was a complete accident. I only remember it feeling much better but I didn't stop. I don't think any of the bottoms I have fucked have felt it break because none of them say anything to me about it. To my knowledge I have not had a condom break or have been stealthed on the few occasions when I bottom, so I have nothing to say there. Can you feel it break? Does it matter if it is accidental and you're not paying attention or if you are waiting in anticipation for it to break? Does being a top or bottom matter? Let me know what your experiences are. The poll allows for multiple answers for you versatile guys. Comments encouraged.
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23 years old. Love getting my dong covered in vaseline and talkin with a bro. Any pigs, dads, etc let me know if you wanna chat. I'll give you my phone number or you can add me below kik / skype: chaddydelrey
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Tonite i finally got my nite alone! Shes away and i got the whole room to myself to tweak! so i took out my arena swimmers lycra top and my new skimpy latex briefs and play stuff. i put on my red latex bikini, a cockring, the silver speedo and wore a bright hotpants. looking at myself in the mirror got me turned on... absolutely slutty!
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Can anyone recommend how to really pack your hole full of vaseline for a seriously wet fuck? My buddy's favorite lube, and I like it too, but always make a total mess and never feel like I'm full of it how I'd like.
