Date: Sun, 31 Jul 2005 06:50:57 +0200 From: Stray Kiwi <straykiwi@hotmail.com> Subject: Available For Use The following story is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to real people is entirely coincidental. If male-to-male sexual scenes offend you, then you should not read this story. Additionally, if you are under 18 years old, the laws in most areas state that you're just too young to read filth like this. Stray straykiwi@hotmail.com ________________________________________________________________ Available for Use Going to university was my big break from my cosy, white middle-class, homophobic, small-town upbringing. I knew damned well that I was gay - hell! every rugby-playing redneck in high school kept reminding me of it . . . Anyway, I applied to a big-city (big by New Zealand standards, that is!) university and was accepted on the basis of my academic prowess. I was also enrolled, for my first year, into student hostel accommodation. The hostel itself wasn't exactly a palace; more like a confusion of buildings that had grown up around a single large old house. This house had the large communal dining room and kitchen and it's ground floor and boasted 9 study/bedrooms upstairs. These were all either double or single rooms for males only. When I arrived with my parents and my boxes of books, clothes and other personal items, I noticed a game of volleyball going on on the lawn outside this central house. This was the height of the New Zealand summer and the guys who were playing set my pulses throbbing. Most of them were shirtless and were displaying their well-muscled sweat-drenched bodies for all and sundry. I lusted after such images of masculinity - and yet feared their arrogant swaggering, their `bloke-ish' talk. As I got out of the car and started to unload my possessions one of these demi-gods approached me. He was a stunning Maori guy, just over six foot tall with a body that just wouldn't stop. Broad, muscular shoulders, pecs that could be used in a tutorial on tectonic plates, abs that appeared to be made of pressed metal and legs that must have run thousands of miles. He wore nothing but very tight red shorts that left very little to the imagination. He was dripping with sweat and approached me with a smile that would dazzle the crown jewels in London. "Gidday," he said, extending one of his huge paws for me to shake, "I'm Scotty. Y'wanna hand? Which room have they stuffed you in?" I grinned back at him. "Name's Neil - I'm in room nine evidently." "Ooh - the party room!" he replied laughingly. "Right next door to mine! I've gotta room all to myself - you have to share." We lugged all my gear upstairs and Scotty showed me my room. It was at the end of the C-shaped corridor that hugged the stairwell - and it was huge! There were actually four beds and four study desks but the Powers-That-Be had decided that four guys together in one room was just too much bad news - so they only ever had two guys sharing it. My roommate hadn't arrived so Scotty hefted the suitcase onto one of the made-up beds and said, "You take this bed. You've got a closet right next to you, it's handy to the window - and, hey! - I'm just through the wall behind the closet . . ." He winked at me, slapped me on the shoulder and went downstairs to get more gear. Within an hour my gear was all upstairs, my parents had left and I was left alone in my room to set everything up. I opened my suitcase first to get all my clothes sorted out and then opened my closet to start hanging things. An empty closet is not usually the most interesting of things. But this closet had certain features that could not be overlooked. Like sawdust on the floor. And a four inch diameter hole in the back wall - about three feet up from the floor . . . What the fuck . . . ? I took a quick peep through the hole . . . There was Scotty, sitting at his desk, idly tapping away at his computer. He'd discarded the shorts I'd seen him in earlier and was now sitting naked in a director's chair with one chocolate-brown leg thrown casually over the arm. While his right hand tapped away at the keyboard, his left idly groped his crotch - and what a crotch! His balls appeared to be size of hen's eggs and he was slowly juggling them between his fingers. His slightly bloated dick - a fat hooded beauty at half-mast - lay across the top of his fingers and just seemed to be enjoying the ride. He was focussed intently on the screen but was grinning - almost leering; he was just kickin' back and havin' himself a good time! I leapt away from that hole in a panic. Fuck! Every fantasy I'd ever wanked myself silly over was there on the other side of my closet! Nervously, I knelt down and peered through the hole again . . . Scotty must've heard me. Instead of staring at the computer screen, he was now staring, grinning, directly at me. Instead of idly juggling his balls, he was stroking his dick - and that dick was growing! I'd thought it was fat when I first saw it - but now it was pulsating its way to an enormity that I hadn't thought possible . . . "Hi!" barked a voice behind me. I leapt out of the closet, slammed the door and whipped `round to discover a tall, lanky, bespectacled guy with a huge backpack and - what I came to realise was - a cornet case. He leaned forward and grimaced at me. "I'm Greg. I guess we're roomies!" .................................... Greg - my roommate - turned out to be the ultimate nerd. Not only he did he play the cornet - he played it in the Salvation Army band! He had a girlfriend named Melissa back in his home town of Waiporiti and he'd already planned his life; get his accountancy degree, go back to Waiporiti, get a partnership in his father's accountancy business, marry Melissa and live dully ever after. Meanwhile, I had a glory-hole in the back of my closet that lead directly to - well - glory! At 6pm Greg flashed his overbite at me and barked - "Wo! I guess it's chow time! Wanna eat?" "Sure," I replied. .................................. The dining hall was crowded with excited first-year students. While standing in line to select our meals Greg told witty anecdotes of his life in Waiporiti. I feigned interest while discreetly searching the tables for any sign of Scotty. The place was packed! But finally, during a story about the first time that Greg's chicken had produced eggs, I spied Scotty. He was sitting at a table with what looked like the rest of the volleyball players from that morning. They were all laughing and relaxed - enjoying each others company. As I kept staring at him, he suddenly switched his focus directly to me. He grinned in recognition, winked at me, then carried on his discussion with his fellow hunks. "Do you think we've missed grace or is it up to the individual?" Greg's voice cut through my thoughts like a knife. "Eer, I'd say it's individual choice." I collected my meal and looked around for a spare seat. "Wa-hey!" barked Greg. "There's two spare seats together up by the door! Let's go, roomie!" Greg barrelled his way down the noisy, chattering aisle to claim the spare seats and I reluctantly trailed after him. Until I met a barrier. A strong, brown barrier. "Spare seat here." Scotty. The arm that had barred my way gently pushed me into a vacant seat. Directly opposite Scotty. "Cheers," I replied. "Helluva crowd in here!" Scotty leaned across the table towards me. "I hear you like cock." "I . . . what?" I stammered. He leaned back and said in a strong clear voice, "I said, I hope you like the new mailbox I put in your room. I like to post mail. You met these guys? Hey! Mitch! This is Neil!" Scotty introduced me to the rest of the guys at the table. Most of them had rooms in the same central house that I was in. The talk amongst the group was hearty and convivial: classes, timetables, good local gyms . . . Once Scotty had finished his meal he piled his plates onto his tray, hefted himself out of his seat and announced to the table at large that he was heading for the gym and then to find himself " . . . a damned good fuck for the night!". The other guys howled with laughter. "Neil!" he barked at me, a grin on his face. "Don't forget to check your fuckin' mailbox . . . Catch you dudes later!" With that he sauntered off. Mailbox. I wolfed down the rest of meal, made vague promises to meet the rest of the guys at the pub over the road and raced back to my room. My heart was thumping. This guy - this gorgeous hunk of testosterone-riddled Maori manhood - was playing some sort of game with me. And I didn't know the rules. I eased open my closet door. No light came in through the hole at the back of the closet. Was he there? In the dark? Waiting? Or had he gone to the gym as he'd said? A tube of paper stuck through the hole. Scarcely daring breathe, I eased the paper out of the hole, backed out of the closet, quietly closed the door and unfurled the roll of paper. "A Welcum note from your MaleMan," I read. "You are a cock-sucking, ass-fuckable faggot. Don't deny it! I heard that from the captain of your high school rugby team! Yeah! He told me about how he fucked you up the ass every day. And how he charged other dudes to fuck your mouth or screw your ass. Fuck! He said your ass would be stuffed with dick between every class and all the way thru lunchbreak. "And now your slut-ass and cunt mouth belong to me. "Strip naked, pussyboy - then go and kneel in the last shower on the right. "You will obey." Numbly, blindly, I stood stripped. Everything he said in that note was true. Naked, I padded out of my room, across the hallway, towards the darkened communal bathroom. Rick, the captain of my high school rugby team, had obviously told Scotty everything. Feeling my way in the pitch blackness, I pushed open the door to the last shower-room on the right. Scotty knew about Rick giving me one dollar for every dick-dick I had to suck - while Rick took $4. How I got $5 for every dick that got shoved mercilessly up my ass - while Rick took $15. I knelt in the shower stall. Resigned. Let the inevitable happen. . . ................................. "Pussyboy. . ." It was Scotty. I heard him easing open the door to the shower stall. It was pitch-black - why the fuck hadn't I thought to turn on a light? "Hello, pussssssss . . ." I was aware of sudden footsteps, a sudden change in temperature; aware of a new smell, a new closeness - a new body . . . Then - a new sensation. Warm. Enveloping . . . yet, ebrasive . . . "Open your fucking pakeha mouth, pussyboy!" Bitter - almost acrid. Yet, fullfilling - satisfying - overwhelming! "Drink it! Swallow it! Kare kihaaa!" I clamped my lips around the source of the outflow and swallowed desperately as a huge, gushing flow of glorious manpiss sluiced its way down my slut throat. "Tia Haiaiaiaiai!" screamed Scotty. "Yeah! You're my fuckin' bitch slut now!" The flow of piss came to a sudden stop. A moment of dark, inky stillness. My lips were still clamped around the head of Scotty's dick. I felt his hand grab the back of my head and ram me down onto the base of his dick. He repeatedly slammed his dick down the back of my throat; with each slamming stroke his dick grew fatter, thicker, harder, longer . . . I couldn't breathe! By the time he'd hefted his mammoth dick out of my throat, I never had time to catch a breath before he slammed it right back again. And again - slamming, slamming, slam, slam, slam, slam . . . then nothing. Stillness. Silence. Darkness. And I'm there: on my knees, naked in a shower stall, my heart pounding nineteen-to-the-dozen, drenched in piss, my mouth gaping open and drooling like a dog. "Ass," barked Scotty's voice from the darkness. I froze. What? Does he really mean . . ? "ASS! Stand up, turn around, bend over and present your asshole! ASS! Fuck! Didn't you learn anything in high school! ASS!" I scrambled to my feet, turned and bent - eager to prove that I had learnt something at high school. My asshole was open and available . . . "Mmmmm - Pussssyboy! That's better . . . Ka pai, morena tahi . . ." I felt the sudden impact of a rock-hard dickhead butting dead up against my exposed asshole. "Toru pai! Bullseye, pakeha pussyboy! Yeeeeeah . . . my dickhead is knockin' at heaven's door! You ready - huh? You ready to have my dick up your kaitea pussyboy butthole?" "Yeah . . ." I moaned, waiting for the moment when his dick would slam itself into my hole. "What was that, pussyboy?" "Please . . ." I groaned. I needed that dick - I was ready for it. Scotty nudged the head his dick more firmly against my hole. "Please, what, buttboy? You want my fuckin' dick? You gotta ask nice!" "Yes! Please!" I yelled. I was desperate to be plugged! "Fuck me, Scotty! Yeah! Please! I need your fat dick up my ass! Sir! Please, sir! Please, sir, fuck meeeeeeee!" With one almighty thrust he smashed me open! His mammoth dick, only vaguely damp from the mucous and saliva of my own throat, was thrust ball-slamming deep into my tight, dry asshole . . . I howled with searing pain. "Shut the fuck up," snarled Scotty. "Take it like a man . . ." He dredged his dick out of my tunnel until just his fat, bloated dick-head remained inside. I suddenly felt empty, lost - aching to be refilled. "Because you are a man!" He slammed that mighty man-flesh pole right back up my chute. The pain was agonising - my entire body was cramping. The tender walls of my asshole parted for violently thrusting kiripaka. But I took it. Like a man. I felt strong, resilient. Empowered. That huge slab of Maori manmeat - maunghura - ploughing my ass - controlling me - owning me. "Kia kaipo," grunted Scotty, pumping my body full of his mana, his power, his essense. "Tane kaha, you're mine, pussyboy." He slammed the full length of his taiaha into my burning, needful gut then slowly withdrew until that massive plum-sized head nudged at my quivering hole. "Mine to have." He slammed back into me and slowly withdrew again. "Mine to take." Slam! "Mine to control." Slam! "Mine to share." Slam. "Now take me, pussyboy! Take my mana! Take my fuckin' cum!!" He began fucking me like a man possessed, drilling a new hole with his powerful, demanding ramrod; and with every thrust he slammed into me, I thrust back to meet it, willingly, eagerly. My ass clenched his immense dick and held on for dear life. Scotty gripped me harder around the waist, holding me up as he smashed one last, unbelievably deep thrust, burying his log to the hilt! "Aieeeeeeee!" he screamed. "Fuck! Take it, fucker! Yeah! Take my fuckin' man juice! Aaauugh!" As Scotty's blasts of sizzling hot cum basted the inside of my gut, I flipped over the edge of control, shooting load after load of my own pent-up spunk into the shower box - fuck! I hadn't even touched myself! I had only been aware of the overwhelming sense of being well and truly fucked to even care about my own dick . . . I collapsed against the wall of the shower stall and Scotty collapsed against me. We were both drenched in sweat and I could feel the wetness from my own load of cum and of Scotty's piss in the bottom of the shower. We were both panting heavily, unable to speak, when there was a knock on the door of the shower stall. "Hey, pussyboy," Scotty gasped into my ear. "You remember what I said about `sharing' you?" The door swung open and from a shaft of light from the corridor beyond, I saw a couple of guys silhouetted in the doorframe. They were both grinning eagerly and one was grabbing his crotch. "I'll make `em pay thirty bucks a time in future," said Scotty, disentangling himself from me and standing. "But tonight is a freebie - so we can all get know each other better." He slapped me hard on my bare, slippery ass and turned to leave. "Enjoy it, guys. That is one grade-A pussyboy ass!" I stared at the throng of guys now clambering at the door. I was dripping with sweat and piss, cum trickling down my inner thighs from my gaping, well-fucked hole. I was home. Copyright 2003 - Stray. straykiwi@hotmail.com All Rights Reserved. Permission is NOT granted to publish this story to any PAY site, nor any site other than nifty.org, without the author's prior consent.