Chris Donaldson Ch. 04

"UGGGHHH!" Chris yelled. "FUCK!"

"Shhhh. It's ok, boy. You're doing great. That's the head."

"Aw fuck, I thought it was at least half."

Mark chuckled. "No boy. Just relax. We'll stay here for a minute." He kissed Chris again.

Chris breathed deeply a few times, adjusting. It started to feel good. Very good. He smiled shyly.

Mark smiled back and started pushing in again, slowly, slowly. He knew from experience that the swell up to the middle of his 9-incher was the hardest part. The rest would be cake.

Chris felt his asshole slowly expanding, farther and farther. There were several points at which he thought he wasn't going to make it, but Mark always stopped, kissed him, murmured encouragingly in his ear. They got to the thickest part of Mark's shaft, and when Chris begged him to stop, Mark ignored him and pushed just a little further, so that Chris' ass muscles could start to contract a little bit once he was over what Mark called his "speed hump".

Chris' relief that his ass ring wasn't being stretched any further was tested by a new sensation - a big uncut dick poking at the top of his rectum. Oooh. Ouch. Mark was moving a little faster now that the worst part was over. Chris was no anatomy expert, but he had the feeling his Dom's dick was entering his colon, rounding the corner . . . except the enormous sausage wasn't bending, but rather straightening out Chris' insides. It was an intense and very strange feeling, but also very sexy and hot. Chris grabbed his thighs and pulled them back, making sure Mark had the most complete access possible. Mark responded by pushing his last inch in with a grunt.

"Finally."

"Is it all in?"

"Every inch, boy." Mark exhaled triumphantly. He had been salivating about this 19-year-old ass for weeks. Now, at last, he was in it. All in. The first man ever to penetrate this boy. He looked down at Chris' cute face, and moaned with lust.

"Keep relaxing, boy. Now's the fun part." Especially for me.

Slowly, firmly, inexorably, Mark started to pull out. Just a bit at first, then back in. Get him used to movement before you start really fucking him. Sweat dripped off his chest and arms onto Chris, who loved it.

"Fuck me, Sir! I love your dick, Sir!"

You got it, boy. Mark gradually increased the tempo and the length of his thrusts. Soon he was drawing back past the thick part of his manmeat, Chris bravely trying to keep up. A couple minutes of that and Mark felt the boy's heels start to dig into his back and butt, pulling him in.

"Atta boy. You're a fucking stud boy."

"Kiss me, Sir."

Mark obliged, thrusting harder and harder. They both wanted it to last forever, and thanks to Mark's incredible control, they got damned close to their wish. Mark allowed himself to gloat a bit. If you put in the time on the front end, the back end keeps on giving, as it were. Now they were really going at it. Mark gripped Chris tight in his arms, and fucked him in quick, short thrusts. Then he propped himself up on his arms again, and pulled all the way out until just his head was in his boy. Chris gasped, then cried out in ecstasy as it all got pushed back in.

Mark long-dicked his sub as long as he could. This was fucking incredible. He had planned on introducing Chris tonight to every position he knew, but he couldn't hold out much longer. The steady, long thrusts were taking him to the very brink.

"Play with your dick, boy."

Chris' little member was already hard, and he knew it wouldn't take long.

"Yes Sir!" He spat on his hand and started to rub. He was so hot and horny he didn't even miss the thick, sticky caress of his favorite Vaseline. "Aw, fuck, FUCKKK! I'm close, Sir!"

"Don't you dare shoot before me, boy," Mark growled.

Chris took his hand off his dick.

"Rub your dick, boy, I didn't tell you to stop." Mark kept thrusting, the look of confusion, desperation, and panic on the poor boy's face pushing him to the point of no return.

"AAAAGGGHHHHH!!"

Mark slammed in to the hilt and shot burst after burst of hot, creamy juice deep into Chris. Chris cried out at the pain of the final thrust, but also in relief at hearing his Dom's orgasm, because his hand brought him over the edge immediately after.

"UNNGGHH!! UNNGGHH!! UNNGGHHHH!!"

Mark had three or four more shots left. It had been a long time since he had produced that kind of load. Wiped out, he collapsed on top of Chris, who was covered in his own jizz and letting his legs down, suddenly aware they had been starting to cramp.

"Oh my God." Chris had fantasized about this moment for what seemed like his whole life. He clutched Mark's short, dark, wavy hair, and held the man's head to his chest. Tonight had met and exceeded all of Chris' expectations and hopes. Thank God he had waited. This was perfect. So fucking perfect. He felt Mark's lips nuzzle his neck. Damn. So hot.

Mark looked down at Chris' chest.

"Shit, that was an impressive load, boy."

"Thanks."

Mark picked his head up and looked at Chris sternly.

"Thanks?"

Chris blushed. "Thank you, Sir." All of a sudden he felt divinely submissive. Submission after orgasm didn't always come naturally, but with Mark it felt so right. It all just felt so right.

"Better, boy. Ok, try and stay relaxed. This is going to hurt a little."

Mark pulled out steadily; to Chris, it felt like a train exiting his ass. "Ow!"

"Shhh. Almost out." Mark's big dick, only slightly softened, plopped out of Chris' hole. After a few seconds, white creamy goo started to spill out.

"I hope I made you pregnant, boy," Mark smiled.

Chris laughed. "That would be an honor, Sir."

"Stay there." Mark made quick work of cleaning up. He brought a hot wet washcloth from the bathroom and wiped up Chris' hole and chest, as well as his own dick. Chris lay on the bed, transcended. He felt so lucky. Mark lay down next to him and spooned him up in his arms.

"How are you feeling, boy?"

"Amazing, Sir."

"Good." Mark squeezed him, and congratulated himself on providing the young guy with a great first time. "You were a rock star, boy. You took all of it, your first time. That's no small feat."

"Aww. You made it easy, Sir." Chris yawned. Mark laughed. "Bored already?"

"No, no Sir! Just sleepy."

And now came the real moment of truth, in Mark's mind. Was he going to let Chris sleep over? Assuming the boy wanted to, of course.

Emotions flood in after a man cums. There were many voices in Mark's head right now, and they gave him different advice. He looked at Chris' sweet, innocent face.

Aw, let him stay.

"If you're sleepy, we better get you in your jammies, boy."

"Oh?" Chris had always wanted to sleep over with a man, and he had been hoping beyond hope that he wouldn't have to leave the bed on which he had left his virginity before he was ready. "Should I stay?"

"If you want to, boy. I don't want you driving when you're falling asleep."

Chris' face fell slightly, and Mark felt bad.

"And I'd like you to stay, if you want to."

The pleasure on Chris' face was almost humbling.

"I'll get you something to sleep in. Unless you usually sleep in the buff?"

Chris blushed again. "No, I get cold. Boxers and a t-shirt would be perfect. And some socks."

"Socks?" Mark laughed.

"My feet get cold!"

"Ok, grandpa." Mark grabbed some clothes from his dresser that would suit.

"Aw, thanks, Sir."

"Good. Now get to the bathroom and brush your teeth and do whatever else you need to do." Like release my enormous cum load from your ass, Mark thought wryly.

A few minutes later, Mark tucked Chris into his bed.

"Where are you going?"

"Just out to the living room. I'll be back in a little while. You just go to sleep, I'll be there when you wake up in the morning." He kissed Chris on the forehead.

In the living room, he picked out a cigar from his humidor and walked out onto his balcony. It was cold, but he wanted to enjoy a private moment. He had his own post-orgasm euphoria to savor. Funny how it always wound up being about the sub. Wrapped in a bathrobe, he puffed contentedly.

Fuckin' hot - that was foremost in his mind. He's a sweet kid - that came a close second, followed by the less comfortable recognition that 19 was very young. Very, very young. There's a long way between 27 and 19, bud.

Aw, fuck it. How often do you get to take a 19-year-old's cherry? And a fucking amazing cherry it was. Just enjoy it. Don't worry about tomorrow.

Chris woke up early, around 6. He panicked initially, not knowing where he was, and then recalled that the even, steady breathing next to him was of his new Dom. His new, incredible Dom, who had fucked him last night for the first time. And yes, he could still feel it. His ass ached dully, but it didn't dismay him. Instead he considered it a trophy. The soreness in his hole had meaning. It meant he was owned, that he had become fully a man. That seemed contradictory, but for a wonderful moment, it made sense to Chris. A submissive man. That's who he was. And he loved it, resting next to his sleeping stud. He put his arm gently over Mark's chest, enjoying his warmth. Mark stirred and snorted, and rolled over. Chris withdrew his arm.

Maybe it's too early for a wakeup blowjob.

Hmm. What would the ideal submissive do right now? Feeling bold, Chris slipped out of bed and into the kitchen. An early breakfast. Perfect. Humming quietly to himself, he checked out the fridge and cupboards. Nice, this guy clearly likes to cook as well as eat. Well, so do I.

Trying to balance what items in the kitchen Mark might want to eat now versus what he might have planned to eat later, Chris assembled a very competent frittata which was on its way to culinary glory by 7. Chris was just brewing coffee in Mark's Keurig when his host poked his head into the kitchen, bleary-eyed.

"Wow." Mark was both impressed and non-plussed at Chris' work.

"Ta-da. Sir." Chris smiled hopefully.

Aw, he's such a fuckin' cutie, Mark thought. I was hoping to sleep in, and I have no idea what the fuck possessed him, but what the hell.

"Well, look at you, kiddo. What's all this?"

Chris laid breakfast on the bar, along with utensils, napkins, and coffee.

"Orange juice, Sir?"

"Sure." Mark was amused to be served in his own kitchen. Shit, he already knows where everything is. Is he moving in?

"C'mere, kid." Mark kissed Chris. "You are so sweet. I can't believe you did this."

They sat down and ate.

"No problem, Sir." Chris was trying to gauge the other man's mood. He wanted to be the best sub possible, and this was his first "morning after". He was on his best behavior without knowing what was required. Was he passing?

"This is really good, Chris." Mark smiled.

Chris glowed momentarily, and then worried about the form of address. He would have preferred "boy". Fuck, fuck, fuck, am I doing this right?

"I had no idea you could cook. I should keep you barefoot in the kitchen."

Chris enjoyed the teasing. They bantered throughout breakfast.

"What are your plans today, Sir?"

"Bunch of stuff around the condo. Might need to go into work, too. Couple of big projects on deadline."

"Ah, cool. Maybe I could be your houseboy," Chris laughed.

"You're sweet, kiddo. You're the best. Thanks for making breakfast for me." Mark kissed Chris on the cheek. "You got me up so early, I could get into work now and get a lot done. I owe you one." Mark winked.

"Oh yeah, sure. Of course, it was my pleasure. Least I could do after last night."

"Fuck yeah, boy, that was hot." Mark rose and put his arms around Chris. "Lots of fun."

"Yes Sir! I can clean up." Chris got up too, and went to gather their plates.

Mark stopped him. "That's ok, kiddo, the housekeeper is coming in a couple hours."

"Oh, cool."

There was an awkward pause.

"Let me drive you back to your car." Mark headed to the bedroom to find some clothes. Chris looked for his - they were scattered around the living room. He dressed quickly, but without taking off the clothes he had slept in; instead, he put on his own clothes over Mark's borrowed underwear. He tucked his own briefs and socks from yesterday into his pocket as Mark reappeared.

"All set?"

Chris nodded.

"Cool." Mark walked over, took Chris' face in his hands and kissed him deeply. "Thank you for an amazing night, kiddo."

Chris flung his arms around Mark and kissed back hard.

"Thank YOU."

Mark took his arm and led him out the door to the elevator and the basement.

"I thought the elevator was broken?"

"Looks like they fixed it," Mark said with a small grin, avoiding eye contact.

Their ride to Chris' Jeep passed in silence. When they got there, Chris leaned over, hugged Mark, and kissed him quickly.

"Thanks." He jumped out of the car and into his own, and waved. Mark's car didn't move; he was waiting to make sure Chris would be ok. Chris waved again and drove off.

Where was he going now? He had half-hoped he would be spending the day with Mark, but that was ok. Back to campus, then. Would Justin be in the room? Fuck it, I have to stop worrying about him. I can deal with him now. I've been made a man. Chris smiled to himself.

Justin was not in the room. Chris stripped down, carefully removing Mark's stolen sleep clothes and hiding them in his dresser under his own underwear. He took his own used underwear and socks out of his pocket . . . and another pair of socks, which were bigger and longer. They were Mark's dress socks from the night before. The ones he had worshipped. He sniffed them again. They still smelled like Mark's feet. He tucked them away in his hiding place, too. For later.

Chris's Saturday was uneventful and grew tense as the hours passed. Should he text Mark, or not? Call? No - he said he had work to do.

Eventually, Chris broke down.

"How's it going, Sir?" He waited four hours for a response.

"Good. Busy. Went into work today again, too. How's your ass, kiddo?"

"Haha. Doing good."

"Still sore?"

"No, not really Sir."

"Send me a pic."

Chris blushed. He was in the fine arts library, his favorite place to work or study on campus.

"Hang on." He got up, assessing his options. The nearest men's room was on another floor. He decided to be daring, and went into the stacks, to the very back. He lowered his pants, bent over, grabbed one butt cheek with his left hand and snapped a pic with his right. He pulled his pants up and looked at the pic. His hole was in the pic, and it looked normal, he guessed. He sent it.

"Lol, where are you, kiddo?"

"Library, Sir."

"You perv."

"You asked me!"

"Lol."

And that was all Chris heard from Mark that day. Strangely, he also spent the night alone in his room. Weird. Where the fuck was Justin?

The answer became apparent when Chris logged on to Facebook on Sunday; Saturday had been Justin's 20^th birthday. He was probably with his girlfriend, passed out. And probably desperate for head, given that all fall, whenever he had come home after being with her, he had needed a blowjob.

For the first time since Mark had fucked him, Chris considered what he would do if Justin returned to the room demanding oral sex. Two days ago, he had felt confident in rebuffing his roommate. Now he wasn't as sure. At 11, Chris went to bed. Justin had still not returned.

Monday morning came. Chris woke up at 6:45, as if being in his old room on a weekday was its own alarm. He reached for his phone to check his texts. Nothing. From below, a familiar sound: Justin's light snoring. Huh. He's back. Well, shit. This is the time I'd usually be dismounting to take care of his morning wood.

Not today. Chris rolled over and shut his eyes. He didn't need to get up until 9:30, and fuck if he wasn't going to try and sleep that long. He couldn't really get back to sleep, though; as he dozed, he heard Justin get up and go to the bathroom, return and get dressed. Without a word, he was out of the room in an hour.

Wow. Was it really this easy? Do I just ignore him now, and he'll just go his own way?

Chris couldn't deny that he felt two pangs this morning. A sharp one that he hadn't received any more communication from Mark, and a milder, but somehow longer-lasting one, that Justin hadn't demanded head.

I've gone from daily sex with my roommate, to having a dominant sort-of-boyfriend, to losing my virginity to . . . nothing.

Nothing.

I don't even get to suck Justin's cock any more. He didn't even talk to me.

Chris dropped disconsolately out of the top bunk. Well shit. Now what do I do?

The week progressed in the same vein. The most Chris could raise out of Mark via text was a "lol" or "hey kiddo", and he only got that three times the whole week. Justin spent each night in the room, but arrived right before bed and left early. He was clearly spending most of his time at the frat house or at his girlfriend's place. Left to his own devices, Chris . . . studied. Maybe this was for the best? He had prayed, that day in Mason's punishment closet, to get back to the life he had had before moving in with Justin. Well . . . here it was. Life as before.

Lonely and sexless.

It was Thanksgiving, and Chris was not looking forward to the holiday. His dad was going to roast a small turkey for just the two of them, like every year since Mom died. And then they would sit in freighted and awkward silence, first for the evening, and then for the whole weekend. Technically, Chris could return to the dorm at any time, since it wasn't closed, but that wasn't a very appealing option either. He didn't know what Justin's plans were; they hadn't said more than a gruff "hi" since Chris had moved back in. Shit, he had actually been secretly hoping since Halloween to bring Mark back to his Dad's house today; he had planned to come out, reveal his new boyfriend, and share a family meal with someone he loved all in one fell swoop.

It was not to be. Mark had stopped responding to Chris about a week after that exchange in the library, just ten days after he had taken the boy's virginity. In a last desperate attempt, Chris had texted "Happy Thanksgiving" to him earlier today. He had gotten a response a few hours later: "Thanks, Chris. I hope you have a wonderful Thanksgiving too, and a really great holiday season this year." If that wasn't a kiss-off . . .

It was a kiss-off. A dismissal. And after all that. After saving his fucking cherry for someone who cared, only to be thrown away a few days later.

That night Chris did something he hadn't done since his mom died. He cried into his pillow. Life was so fucking unfair. Worst of all, he had no one to talk to. Obviously, he couldn't tell his dad anything. Pat . . . well, she was a staunch ally, but he didn't feel comfortable talking about dating or sex with her. Or with any woman, let's be honest. Men were pigs, of course, as he had found out. Apparently, they treated each other as poorly as they treated women. But Chris wanted to talk to another man about it, not Pat. And someone closer to his own age, too.

So there was no one.

The Friday after Thanksgiving was more painful than the day before. Chris' dad seemed to be following him around the house as if he had something to say, but never properly engaged when Chris addressed him. The shooting range Pat owned was closed until Saturday. There was nothing to do in the small town Chris grew up in. He could drive into the city . . . and do what? Park outside Mark's condo and pine?

This was bullshit. He was going back to the dorm. He needed some space, and surely Justin was with his own family; the place would be nearly empty, and he could have two and a half days to sort himself out before the rest of the student body returned. Telling his dad he needed to study, he retreated. He was back on campus in an hour - no traffic today - and in room 119. Pale sunshine came through the blinds. He looked around. God, this had been a fucking sex den just a month ago. Did he miss all that? Chris didn't know what the fuck he thought. He looked around the small room. On a whim, he walked over to Justin's closet. Sure enough, there were socks, underwear and t-shirts littering the floor. He knelt down. One by one, he sniffed each garment that his roommate had worn. There wasn't much to savor. The pits of the t-shirts didn't carry any of Justin's scent; the boxer briefs didn't really either. One pair was promising, but Chris sniffed up all the funk on the first inhale. Same with the socks - the couple that seemed like they retained Justin's foot odor faded like . . . like Mark's interest in me, Chris thought. That reminded him.