Going to a Party

Where to start? That's easy: when I met Peter. That's when things took a dramatic turn, to say the least. I was a freshman, first semester in college at the big state liberal arts college. I had been on my own for a year since my parents had died in a car accident. Officially, I was the ward of my grandmother, but she was even more broken up over my parents' death than I was, so I wound up taking care of her more than she me. Whatever. As soon as I left for college, she checked herself into a nursing home.

Academically, I breezed through my senior year of high school. The combination of natural smarts and being the-kid-whose-parents-died got me through with minimal interference from administration. I was pretty messed up, not to downplay suddenly being orphaned. It took me six months of anti-depressants and a year of intense therapy to get to be a functioning freshman. But I made it through and was soon a stranger in a strange land.

It was weird being 18 and basically adrift in the world. There was no principal or guidance counselor to keep me in line, no Mom or Dad and any real kind of social network. I was plopped down in a 35,000 student university with, thanks to lots of life insurance, the ability to pay cash through college. I could do anything I wanted, be anything I wanted.

Let's talk about me for a minute, and I mean physically. I'm a shade over 5'11", lean and leggy. Blonde hair, blue eyes and fairly good looking. I was shy and quiet, and the grief thing really threw me for a loop, so I'd not had much romantic or social contact within the past year plus. I still kept in shape and looked out for my health, but I had neglected that part of my life. Now the urges were upon me and I was eighteen and horny as hell.

If anyone asked, I would say I was straight. Were I to be honest, I was bi. Were I to be completely honest, if I had to choose, I'd rather give up sex with women than men. In theory, since I had never had sex with either men or women. I knew I was a bottom, I wanted to suck cocks and take it in my ass. If there was anyplace I could make this happen, it should be at a big university.

I did a few preliminary searches while I was getting settled in. But, soon, the reality of being a college student set in and I was on the run. I had opted for an off-campus apartment so I could have my space, rather than the convenience of on-campus dorms, this meant more time commuting (even by bike). My neighbors were all sober grad students who were not too happy about having a freshman in their midst, I was warned to be quiet several times before I had even finished moving in. So much for using my off-campus apartment as a party pad. There was not going to be the social life with neighbors I had been counting on.

After a month or two of figuring my schedule and life out, I realized I did have some free time and tried to build a social life. I struck up a conversation with two guys in one of my classes and they invited me to a party one of their roommate's friend from home was having. They were going to be there at ten if I wanted to meet them there.

Why not?

This was my first real party and I decided it represented my best chance to find a sex partner. I did some body grooming, trimming my pubes and butt hair, just in case. I showered, shaved, did my long-ish hair, put on some aftershave and walked to the party.

I double checked the text: 310 E 3rd. They said they would be there at 1000, so I left my apartment then. There was a big party that was spilling out into the street at 301, but the text said 310, so I continued on. I saw a couple of cop cars pull up to 301 and that finalized my decision.

310 E 3rd was up a set of stairs from the street. It was dark, most of the house lights were off and black lights made up most of the lighting. It was a smaller crowd, maybe 30 people in the house and I did not know anyone. I dropped a couple bucks in the keg fund, poured a beer and tried to navigate a party as an introvert where I did not know anyone.

There was a sudden pressure in my head, like the onset of a headache. I hoped the cheap beer wasn't doing it because I had no intention of stopping. I concentrated, made the pressure go away and continued making rounds, hoping my friends had shown up.

Another pressure, this one much more sudden and strong. I froze mid-stride. This one felt like it was exploring me, and I felt all my secrets open to whomever was looking. A second later, bewildered and light headed, I resumed my step. What was going on?

"Hi," someone said to me. I turned and saw a gorgeous guy. He was about 6'3", straight short black hair and a charming smile. He was a little older than most of the students, I would peg him about 25.

"Hi," I said back, trying not to swoon or sound anything but super cool.

"So, do you know anyone here?" he asked.

I looked around and could start to see some dirty looks from the other partygoers.

"I'm supposed to meet some friends here, but I don't see them," I looked around again and realized I was the only one under 22 here.

"This may not be the right place for you," he said to me. "Private party. Listen, I'm on my way out and live kind of close by. You want to come by and have a beer? Maybe smoke a jay?"

I looked around again, more hostile looks and a couple of people were talking and pointing at me. I should definitely get out of here. I looked at him again. He was gorgeous, I wanted to be naked under him. At the worst, I could get high. At best, laid.

"Okay," I said and quickly downed the rest of my beer. "Let's go."

We were out the door just as a couple of guys were heading to throw us out. On the street, he put his hand on the small of my back to point me in the right direction. His touch was electric. I really hoped he wanted to have sex. That train of thought was interrupted by another pressure headache. This one only lasted a second, then felt like it slid into me.

"Are you okay?" he asked me. His hand on my back slid down to my waist to steady me.

"Yeah," I said, catching my breath. "A little headache. It'll pass. Shall we?"

We started up the street. Was I really doing this?

"I'm Peter," he said and offered his hand.

"Mark," I said and took his hand. I wanted that hand spanking my bare ass.

"I suppose you are wondering what I was doing at that party?"

"Now that you mention it..."

"I was making a delivery."

"Pizza?"

"Weed."

If I could get weed and sex from the same guy, my life would be immeasurably better. I really hoped this worked out.

"Cool," I managed to say. I realized that he might just want to sell me weed and have no desire to ravish my fit young body. That would be a kick to the balls. "Are you a student?" I asked, wanting to keep the conversation going.

"Ha," he snorted. "Was. Dropped out five years ago. Now I make way more doing construction and dealing weed to these college fucks, no offense, than I ever would have with a degree. And I don't have any student loans."

We walked another couple of blocks. Mostly, he asked about me. Where I was from, major, family and so on. I had intended to be more evasive, but found myself telling him everything. I guess I wanted to impress him.

"Here," he said. We were stopped in front of another house set back on a hill from the street. There was obviously some kind of party going on there, too. He pointed me down an alley between the houses. "Back there." I followed. "My roommates are having a party and I don't want to deal with all that. I've got a little mancave back above the garage. We can hang out there."

It was slightly more elaborate than "little mancave" would have led me to believe. We had to go in through the detached garage from the alley side. Once in the garage, I had to climb a ladder.

"You can do that or shimmy up the firepole," he said and pointed to a metal pole in the corner.

I started up the ladder. My sense of good idea and bad idea seems to have totally left me. There was a trapdoor at the top, because of course there was. I stopped to open it. Why was I doing this? Had I lost all sense? When I pushed open the door, he took advantage of my pause to reach up and caress my thighs.

"You've got great legs, Mark," he said and pushed one up my shorts to cup my buttcheek. "I like your birthmark."

I had a small winestain birthmark on my left thigh. It was on the outside, about an inch long. I'd never thought much about it, except when I was in track for a year and someone called it my racing stripe.

This was why I was doing this. He reached up and fully grabbed my cheek. I stopped, leaning into his touch. I knew I was hard as a rock. I wanted him. His fingers slid towards my crack, exploring me.

"Get up there," he said playfully. "We are not hanging out in the garage. Unless you're into that."

I scurried the rest of the way up the ladder and into the cave. He flipped a switch below and all the lights came on. His little mancave was nicer than my apartment. He had a kitchenette, bathroom, sofa, easy chair, big screen tv and a queen bed off in a corner.

"Come on," he said and pulled me by the hand over to the bed, "my stash is over here."

Whatever. Was it too soon to get naked?

We sat on his bed, almost touching. I had such a raging boner and had ever since he looked at me from across the room. It may not have been love at first sight, but it was certainly lust at first sight. I stretched my long legs out, offering them for another caress. He was not long on accepting my offer and gave me one long caress up and down from ass to ankle, his hand tracing my birthmark.

"Welcome to my mancave," he said and repeated the caress. "I've got a room in the house, but my roommates are having a murder mystery party and I would rather not be there for that. Besides, I've got you here."

He leaned in and kissed me. I eagerly responded. I was going to get some action tonight!

"Now," he said and broke the kiss, "I said something about getting you stoned."

I'd rather get fucked than stoned, but even more, I'd rather get stoned, then fucked. He loaded a bowl and gave me the first hit.

"Easy," he warned me. "This is the good stuff."

I wanted to be cool, but I also wanted him to like me and like telling me what to do.

"Okay," I said and batted my baby blues at him.

I took a small hit, held it and coughed almost immediately. It was the tastiest bud I had ever smoked and even that small hit sent me reeling. He laughed at my amateur stoner ways, but through my haze of pot and coughing I thought I heard him say the word "obey".

He took the bowl from me, our fingers brushing a little too long, sending a shiver down to my crotch. He smiled, took a long hit, then passed it back to me. This time, I managed a medium hit before coughing my head off. Oh yeah, I was impressing him by how cool I was.

"Let's try this," he said. He took the bowl, and took a long pull. Then he kissed me and breathed into me. My lungs filled with the smoke from his, a bigger hit than I had ever taken before. He released the kiss, smoke trailing from his mouth and mine.

"Hold it," he said and another probe hit my head, but I didn't cough it out. "Now," he said and slid his hand under my shirt. "Exhale". I blew out the smoke, amazed as it kept coming out of me. How I had been able to get that much inside me.

I don't know if I had ever been this stoned before. Well, I hadn't been stoned that many times in my life and this was definitely the most stoned ever. I looked around, the world in a joyful haze. He was hot, I wanted to make him happy, to obey him. Where did that come from?

"OBEY" this time it was like a roar in my mind, and my befuddled will was crushed. It was like the pressure headaches earlier, but much stronger and more focused. I was, something.... stoned, but there was a clarity to some of it, definite angles that would not be there with pot. I sat still on the bed, staring vacantly straight ahead. Peter sat first on one side of me than the other, whispering or talking to me, constantly, but I could never understand the words. They seemed to go right past my conscious mind and took root someplace deeper. His hands were on me while he spoke, touching, stroking my bare legs and reaching up under my shirt to rub my back.

"Now we just need to set it all in place," I thought I heard him say, or did I?

I was on the bed next to Peter. I thought it was a little odd that the incense he had lit was already burned down, but blamed that on being stoned.

Peter was talking to him, me?

"What?" I said and seemed to finally reach the surface.

"I said, 'I want to see you naked'," he said again. His hand was on my leg again and felt electric. He slid it up an inch, touched my birthmark, and my body suddenly exploded with desire.

"Okay," I said, but sat there, transfixed by the hand on my bare skin.

"Stand up," he said and took his hand off my thigh.

I stood up and remembered I was supposed to be undressing for him. I wasn't sure if this was the right thing to do, but the haze of pot and arousal made any thinking impossible. I slid my shirt over my head and tossed it on the floor. His hands had already undone my shorts and they fell to my ankles. There was a wet spot on my boxers from the pre-cum. Without being told, I pulled them off, and stepped out of my pile of clothes.

"You are going to be mine," he said, looking me in the eyes. "You are going to do what I want you to do and you are going to want to do it. Once I cum in your ass, I will own you."

I could not comprehend this, what did that mean? Like a prison bitch? Or a slave? I didn't know and didn't care, I was ready to cum on demand.

He brushed my cock with his hand.

"Get on your knees," he ordered.

Without thinking, I obeyed. He began walking towards me, his hard cock pointing menacingly at me. Pleasing that cock was my duty, I thought to myself.

"I've always wanted...." I said.

"Wanted what?" he asked. He ran his hand through my hair, I could feel the warm flesh of his cock against my cheek.

"This."

"Your lucky day, I guess." He moved the tip closer to my mouth, "I know it's mine."

Not really sure what he wanted me to do, but wanting to do something, I started licking his cock. He indulged me for a minute while his hands roamed over my shoulders, back and chest. He was big, seven, maybe eight inches. I was trying to figure out how all that was going to fit inside me, but realized I was probably past the point of being able to back out now.

"That's very cute," he said and gently grabbed me by the chin. I looked up into his dark eyes. "But, I have something else in mind."

He held my face, and I felt the wave crash over me again and smash any will I might have through the haze of arousal. He began that whispering, murmuring that seemed go right past my conscious brain and down to something deeper. My lips parted, my mouth opened and welcomed him in.

There was a cock in my mouth. That thought made its way my murky mind. This was a special occasion, I'd always wanted to give head, and here I was doing it. I expected fireworks or at least some balloons and a banner. I also was a little disappointed at the lack of flavor. I mean, pre-cum has its salty charm, but for something that totally dominates your mouth, cock has no flavor.

I realized I really did not have control over my body. I could feel everything perfectly well, but could not make any muscle do anything. His rod of flesh pressed deeper into my mouth. I started gagging, panic began to grip me.

He kept the murmuring, but I could only make out a few phrases like "don't panic", and "don't choke". He waited, his cock against the back of my throat, his hands guiding my head and the rest of my body powerless to stop him. My heart rate slowed, my breathing came back under control and I felt a sense of confidence that I could do this. I was ready to deep throat Peter's cock.

I closed my eyes as he pushed in again. This was not how I envisioned this night going when I left my apartment. It had taken a definite turn for the better. In my wildest fantasies, I envisioned something like this and I was living it. He gave a push and easily slid down into my throat. I was surprised by the ease of entry and lack of gagging, I had feared much worse. As he slid in and out of my mouth and throat, I savored the feeling. Somehow, deep in me, I needed and wanted this.

He never stopped speaking as he facefucked me, but I could not tell you a word he said.

Peter pulled out of my mouth, smiling possessively. At least he was not talking, my brain was hurting from his murmuring.

"Go lie down on my bed," he told me, "on your stomach."

Suddenly, my limbs worked again. I stood awkwardly, then basically flopped down face first onto his queen bed. He stood over the bed, his hard cock still wet from my saliva, and smiled. He began caressing my muscular legs, up to my ass. I ached to be penetrated, to have his hard cock up my virgin ass. Each caress lingered longer on my firm backside. When one reached down to brush my balls, I nearly jumped through the roof.

His hands parted my cheeks to look down on his prize. My unspoilt hole awaited his plundering. Something cool and wet hit my hole and he began to work in the lube.

Could I say no right now? Could I get up and walk away? I really did not care if I could or not, I wanted to be here with him. Didn't I? I started this night hoping I might get fucked, and here I was about to get stuffed from behind. This was what I wanted to happen. Was I really going to get up and walk away from this over some abstract principle?

Peter added a second finger and more lube. I tried to relax as much as possible, open myself up for penetration.

He removed his fingers from me and climbed on top. He nuzzled up to my ear and gave me a light bite,

"Are you ready?"

I did not know if I was ready or could get any more ready, but it didn't matter. I nodded.

"Listen," he said to me and began whispering into my ear. I wanted to escape his words more than his cock.

There was pressure building against my anus, and I tried to relax. What if he couldn't get in? I guess I could always use my mouth, but I really wanted him in my ass. I closed my eyes and concentrated solely on my anus. Another push and the tip of his cock penetrated my ring of muscle. I buried my face in a pillow to keep from crying out as his huge, hard cock forced its way into my depths. I shuddered as he moved in deeper, inching his way into me. My ass stretched and burned as he filled me.

I had always imagined this happening to me, to get fucked in the ass. It was more painful than I envisioned, but the pain was intoxicating. It was much more real than in my fantasies. I could feel every bit of him as he pushed into me. I could feel the hair of his body against mine, the sheets against my aching cock, his penetrating words in my ear. But mostly, I focused on my ass.

"Does it hurt?" he asked.

I nodded.

"I'll take it easy on you tonight," he gave my ear another quick nibble, "but I normally like it rough."

I could not respond. He could do anything he wanted to me, so I was grateful he wasn't going to hurt me too much. Part of me was eager to experience the rough sex with him, but I knew to be patient. I knew this was not going to be our only time together.

As it was, the gentle fucking I was getting was painful enough. He added more lube, but the fact was he was big and I was tight. But I loved the pain, it was delicious. He was making me his own, my pain was just part of his pleasure.

Sweat dripped from him onto my bare back. I tried to imagine the willpower it took to just not pound away at me. I was grateful.

I gave a little sigh/moan combination as he found my pleasure spot.

"So that's where it is," he said and backed up to poke it again with his cock. "You keep being good and I'll take care of you."