Rush

Brian witnesses a shocking a scene that he just can't seem to stop thinking about.

Rush week. I felt anything but. There was no "rush". No intense feeling of excitement or anticipation. I wasn't doe eyed or eager like the other prospective members standing around me. Instead, I was tired and, truth be told, I didn't want to be here. I just wanted to get this week over with and to never hear another person drone on about fraternity shit. But my parents had insisted; both for different reasons. My mom saw it as a way to make friends (something I hadn't been able to do my first year here) and my dad wanted me to follow in his footsteps...even in this. So of course I was here. I was nothing if not the loyal son. The sheep that followed. Always followed. I guess that personality trait would come in handy in the next few days and during the hazing process if I was picked.

Today we were doing tours of the houses. Right now we were being held up by some douchebag speech by the douchebag president of Beta Beta Chi. It was especially hard to show any interest because this frat wasn't on the top of my list. The guys were assholes and elitists, spreading their wealth and popularity, which I didn't find any appeal in. I certainly had the wealth, but I was nowhere close to popular. I'm still confused about how they accomplished such a thing in such a big school. But these assholes did. Walking around campus like they owned it. The speech ended and Mr. Douchebag (now fondly dubbed Mr. DB) stepped to the side to let us in. This tour was different from the ones I'd been to earlier today. We were given free rein of the house, which I didn't understand since it was so big that it'd be easy to get lost in. Take now for example, I'd been looking for a bathroom for the pass three minutes, which was really long when you had to GO. I finally found one on the third floor in the back of the house. Sweet relief. I quickly did my business, wash, and dried. I was walking down the hallway when I heard it. A deep, but slightly feminine, moan. Then:

"Mmmm, your pussy gets so tight when I put you on ice for a week. Fuck it's so good."

I could hear the specific sound of skin against skin, slap slap slap. Whoever it was was getting a hard fucking. A good hard fucking based on the very wanton and needy moans.

"I bet you'd feel even better if I didn't allow you to fuck for a month. Would you like that?"

Another moan, but this one in more of a negative tone.

I got closer to the door with every intention of walking right by. I swear I did. But once I noticed the door was slightly open, I couldn't not look. Right? Right! I found myself sneaking a peek and immediately stopped in my tracks, my eyes bugged out. I'd gotten it all wrong; For one, the guy I'd heard was a big black guy. Big in the way only black men could be. While that was shocking (I have no idea why), what really knocked me over was that the moans I assumed were coming from a girl (with a deep voice), were actually coming from a guy.

I knew because his body was all man. I knew because I could see a very hard dick under him slightly jerking to the rhythm of the hard pounding he was receiving. He was bent over on all fours, back arched, head down, moaning into the bed. I couldn't look away. I couldn't move. I promised I tried. But no matter how much I screamed at myself to go, I couldn't move.

I was surprised when I heard the black guy ask gruffly, "Whose pussy is this, bitch?" Emphasize with a hard thrust.

"Yours...fuck! Always yours."

And, as if the question spurred him on, he continued with a needy moan, "Please, harder! Fuck me harder, please! Fuck your pussy harder."

And, "Oh daddy, I'm gonna cum so hard on your dick. It feels so fucking good."

Back to a long moan as "daddy" gave into his request and started fucking him even harder (which I didn't think was possible based on how fast he was going before). Mr. Bottom (I like obvious nicknames. Sue me!) worked his hand under himself and started reaching for his dick. But, before he could grab it, his had was yanked back.

"You don't touch yourself when I'm fucking you! If you want to cum, you'll cum from me pounding you. Understand, bitch?"

Another moan, more of a whine really, "Yes, I'm sorry, yes. So good. So fucking good."

The black guy, clearly satisfied with the response, let go of Mr. Bottom's hand and reached down to spread his ass cheeks. "You should see yourself. How good your white ass look on my big black dick. How I have your hole completely open, taking EVERY. Fucking. Inch. Of my cock." An even louder whine. "You take dick so well. You take black dick like such a good slut."

"Yes! Only black dick. Only your slut."

Suddenly Mr. Bottom was grabbed by the hair and pulled against his chest. And, again, I was doubly shocked because:

1. The black guy, looking straight at me with a smirk, says, "Cum for me, slut."
2. In that moment I realized that Mr. Bottom was actually Mr. DB. Not that he noticed me. His eyes were shut tight, following his daddy's command and cumming all over himself with the first shot landing on his chin. I could see his body shaking all over as he unloaded the rest on himself.

He was roughly pushed back into the bed and, with one hand on his head and another on his ass, continued getting fucked hard and deep.

"I'm about to fill your ass, are you ready, slut?"

"Yes, please, daddy. I want to feel you shoot into my tight pussy. Please fill me up. I need it so bad. So bad, daddy."

One last hard thrust and, with another look at me, the black guy groans loudly and pushes deeply into Mr. DB's ass, clearly releasing a big load.

I didn't stick around to see the rest or to be discovered by the fucked out president of Beta Beta Chi. I shook myself out of the trance and got out of dodge. It wasn't until I was back on the first floor, catching my breath that I realized that I was hard as a fucking rock.

........

After I'd quickly introduced myself to a couple of the brothers to get my name out there, I went straight the fuck home. And, of course, 30 minutes after getting home, I was still rock hard and fighting with the need to touch my dick. Turns out, all that kept playing in my head was the scene I'd witnessed earlier.

I'd tried pulling up porn to get the image out of my head, but nothing was working. I quickly found that I was not in the mood for white on white porn. So I gave in and switched to black guy/white woman, something I rarely watched. Surprisingly I was into it, but found myself staring at the guy's cock and feeling a sense of disappointment that I hadn't gotten to see the black guy's cock from earlier. Which (of course!) got me thinking about the scene again. So that's where I'm at. Laying in bed, hard cock, completely over porn.

I try ignoring my cock going to bed, but no luck there. I stared down at my dick as if it'd somehow have the answer. Nope, nothing. Eventually I gave in and reached down to grab it. Maybe once I started jerking my head would get right and one of my many good fantasies of a girl being completed dominated by a rough fuck would start playing out in my head. I tried; I promise I did. But, as soon as I started getting into the fantasy, it switched to the scene from earlier and I was too far gone to stop. I started thinking about how the black guy had completely used president's body. Taking whatever he wanted, hard and fast. I started thinking about the president's needy moans. His filthy words, begging to be used and getting off on being degraded. I began to jerk harder and reached down with my other hand, intending to grab my balls. I end up bypassing it to get to my hole and immediately came all over my hands and stomach. In my cum filled daze, I realized that I came with a finger pressing on my hole and the look of pure bliss on the president's face when he came. Only, if I was being truthful, it wasn't his face that I saw. Somehow my traitorous brain had inserted me into the fantasy.

TBC