I never thought I would be Brett Rylson's bitch.
At least not like this.
It was 11:00 PM on a Saturday Night and I was lying in bed nude. The majority of people from my class having had gone out to binge drink and to celebrate the end of a tortuous freshman year of college. I, however, decided I would take advantage of the empty dorm. What better way than by staying in and jerking my cock?
I was obsessed with the feeling of release from an intense edging session. Normally, by this time of night, I would have already covered myself in my own cum at least once by now. I enjoyed feeling the warmth of each edged shot exploding from my cock and covering different parts of my body - from my stomach and chest - to sometimes, if I was lucky, as far as my face.
As cocky as it sounds, I loved seeing the image of my own body covered in cum, and being left with a drained cock and the feeling of lightheadedness after an intense orgasm had become my ideal way of relieving college stress.
Tonight, however, something felt different. Unlike myself I didn't feel like watching any porn, but as I laid in bed nude I could feel the breeze from my ceiling fan teasing the tip of my cock. It felt good to feel pleasure naturally, almost as if someone else were doing the work. Would it be possible for me to cum hands free?
I shut my eyes as my thoughts wandered through different fantasies I had built up over the past year. I imagined myself being fucked mercilessly in the dorm showers by a team of seniors, one of whom had me pinned against the tile with one hand while spreading my ass with the other. I imagined the rest of the seniors taking turns taking my virgin hole, and the feeling of their different sized cocks swelling deep inside me until eventually my hole was filled and leaking their cum.
Quickly, my shower fantasy had caused my cock to grow without me touching it at all, and not wanting to lose any progress, I closed my eyes again. This time imagining myself being walked in on by my roommate at that very moment, and what his reaction may be. Would he be shocked? Would he want to join in? Perhaps the two of us could pull up a straight porn and work ourselves out to it. He could watch the porn, and I could watch him. If he wanted, perhaps he could drain his fresh load into my dirty virgin mouth.
As I continued to imagine different scenarios I could feel my cock growing firmer as it began to bend and pulsate against my leg while it grew along my thigh. Suddenly, The simple feeling of a breeze from my ceiling fan began to feel more like a blow job from the angels, and the tip of my cock would start to leak more and more precum as I dove further into my own filthy imagination.
Soon, a euphoric rush began to consume my body as the head of my cock continued to swell. My body temperature rising as I grew closer and closer to the edge, I felt my pits begin to sweat.
The smell of my own body caused my mind to race even further into the depths of my sexual imagination, and my hand almost autonomously shot down towards my erect cock. Quickly, I stopped myself from giving in too early. In this moment of pure sexual frustration and ecstasy, I was determined I would cum hands free.
I left my swollen cock alone and wrapped my hand around my own neck instead, choking myself as I let my mind drift away from fantasy and into memories of reality. Real life situations which, when recalled, have the ability to make me unload.
This is when I see Brett. 6'1, dark hair, the body of a god and a cocky yet perfect smile. He's there, in my brain, in quick and bright flashes of the memories I have collected of him over the course of the past year together spent on the cross country team. In my mind, I can visualize the memory of his cock outline through his running shorts, a bouncing thick and heavy bulge which became clearly visible through the sweat soaked fabric.
I could also imagine his bare chest rising and falling quickly with each breath after a long run, his nipples hard and beads of sweat on the hair which lead from just below his chiseled abs down into his runners shorts, which were sure to be full of a thick and meaty member needing serviced.
I focus on the memory of his heavy breathing, and the redness of his face as he recovered. A similar appearance, i'm sure, to when he shoots a load from his thick, meaty, straight cock.
I start to think of each and every time he readjusted his bulge in front of my wandering eye while I hopelessly wished for just a tiny peek. I wanted so badly to know what Brett Rylson hid underneath those tight and soaked running shorts. I knew that however it was, it deserved to be worshipped.
My thoughts of Brett had my pulsating erection once again begging for a tug, but I continued with my determination and refused to let myself cave in. My hand staying gripped tight around my own neck as my pulsating and fully erect manhood screamed for more pleasure.
It may have been strictly my own imagination, but I swear as I grew closer to covering my body with my thick and edged load that the ceiling fan begun getting faster, and faster, as my legs squirmed and my excitement grew. I felt myself growing closer and closer to the edge as my hand began to squeeze tighter and tighter around my neck until...
My door swung open.
I quickly threw a blanket over my body and rolled onto my side, trying not to crush my now ready-to-burst cock in the process. Reaching for my table lamp in the dark, I couldn't yet make out the figure that had just walked into my dorm room. It wasn't until the intruder spoke that I realized I may have just manifested a situation that I was not yet ready for.
"Are you in here Dylan?"
My cock switched from about-to-burst to flaccid out of sheer shock. I knew that voice, I had a memory of it, just like I had a memory of every other detail about this person.
It was Brett Rylson.
I laid silently unsure of how to react. Should I pretend to be asleep? Should I tell him to go away? I had never spoken with Brett outside of cross country, and now he was in my dorm room just seconds before I unloaded a wrath of cum, covering my entire body with over an hours worth of edging while thinking about him.
My thoughts continued to race as I tried to decide what to do next. Had I choked myself too hard? Was this just my fantasy playing itself out in my unconscious mind? Either way, I needed to wake up, as I did not want my roommate finding me passed out, cock out, if I had managed to knock myself unconscious.
"...Dylan?"
Brett whispered my name once again before I finally managed to turn on the light. Laying on my stomach, I wiped my eyes pretending as if I had just woke up from a deep sleep. No matter how convincing I was of pretending to have just woken up, however, it didn't change the fact that I was now completely nude in front of Brett. I could feel the excitement of the moment rushing to my eager-to-cum cock, so I awkwardly fidgeted myself around so that I could sit up with the blanket over my lap before answering.
"What's going on?" I asked.
Brett stood in the doorway to my dorm looking like I imagined him just moments ago, like he had just finished one of our races. His breathing was heavy, and his muscled chest rose and fell quickly as he held his hands to his hips. He managed to look even taller than usual in my doorway, and with hair that fell just above his eyes he brushed it and his built up sweat away.
Tonight, instead of the usual running shorts and bare chest, he wore ripped jeans and a tank top, his chest muscles practically bursting from the top.
Brett wiped the sweat from his forehead. I could see spots of sweat on his t-shirt which followed the same pattern I had gawked at all year from Brett's belly button down to the inside of his pants. How in the fuck was I going to control myself with a heavily edged cock and a sweat-covered Brett Rylson in my dorm?
