storiesbytroy

[storiesbytroy]

My Brother's Best Friend Wants To Fuck Me

[storiesbytroy]

Frat Games: The House Slut - Part 1

Part 1: Moving Day: Alpha Zeta Rho House

I applied to Alpha Zeta Rho during Rush Week as a joke.

I mean, seriously. An all-jock frat? Me? A twink like me?

That’s hilarious.

I used to love fucking with hot straight jocks in high school. Flirting too much. Lingering a little longer in locker rooms just to watch them get uncomfortable. Sometimes they’d get angry. Sometimes they’d get curious. I liked both.

So the idea of pledging their sacred little frat felt like the ultimate dare. I filled out the application online, tossed in a half-shirtless mirror selfie, and submitted it with zero expectations. Just vibes. Surprisingly, I was invited for an interview.

A couple of days later, I get the text.

“You’re in, pledge" – Brother Chase

Chase. The frat president. The one who was the lacrosse-playing jock with a voice like black coffee and a smile that meant trouble. He didn’t say “congrats” or “welcome.” Just that. You’re in. Like it had already been decided.

I don’t know how it happened. Maybe I was their diversity pick. Maybe it was my selfie. Maybe it was something worse. But somehow I got selected. And not just as a pledge.

They invited me to move into the frat house.

Apparently, that’s not normal. Most pledges don’t live inside. Especially not freshmen. But Alpha Zeta Rho said it was tradition. Said I’d be living there through Hell Week. I should’ve asked more questions.

So yeah. Here I was. Outside the house. Two duffel bags, one pounding heart, and way too many assumptions about what would happen once I stepped inside.

Being around jocks was a dream. Living with them? I didn’t know if it would be heaven, hell, or something in between.

The door opened before I could even knock.

A tall guy with dark hair and a sleeveless tee leaned in the doorway. Tan, broad, smug as hell.

“First floor. Toward your left. The very far end,” he said. “Welcome, pledge.”

He smirked and stepped aside, not even offering to help with my bags.

I dragged them inside. The house smelled like sweat and body spray and pizza. Somewhere upstairs someone was blasting EDM. I passed three shirtless guys on the way to my room, all of them nodding with the same quiet, cocky look that said, We already own you.

The room was basic. Bed, drawers, tiny desk. One window. Nothing on the walls.

It was mine. For now.

I dropped my bags and closed the door behind me. A weird wave of relief hit me. Like I could finally breathe. Like I was still just a regular guy who hadn’t yet been broken in.

My room was right next to Brother Jace.

Yeah. Jace. The one who had interviewed me during Rush Week. The one with the dirty blond hair and the arms that barely fit into sleeves. I remembered stammering through my answers while he leaned back, legs spread, looking at me like he already knew I’d say yes to anything.

I unpacked fast, needing something to do. Shirts in the top drawer. Pants in the middle. Underwear in the bottom one. Just basics. Briefs. A few boxers. Nothing too crazy.

I didn’t want to give them ideas. Not yet.

Eventually I collapsed on my bed, fully dressed, phone slipping from my hand, the sound of my own nervous thoughts lulling me into a nap.

When I woke up, the room was darker. Outside my window, the sun had completely vanished. My phone buzzed in my lap. 8:57pm.

Shit.

Movie night. The introductory meeting. I was supposed to be downstairs by nine. I rolled out of bed, yawning, stretching, feeling groggy and out of place. I walked over to my drawers to grab something clean to wear and froze.

My bottom drawer was open.

The underwear drawer.

I hadn’t left it that way.

On top, sitting dead center, was a note. Folded in half. My stomach dropped as I picked it up and read the ink in bold, cocky handwriting:

Rule #1: Never keep your door closed, pledge. I’ve replaced your boring underwear with something more appropriate. Wear one and come downstairs. - Brother Lucas

My breath caught in my throat. I looked down. My briefs were gone. Replaced with three tight, pristine thongs; red, black, and baby blue....neatly folded like a gift.

What the fuck.

Was this a hazing thing? A prank? A test?

Was I really supposed to show up to my first frat meeting wearing a thong?

I hesitated for maybe ten seconds.

Then I grabbed the baby blue one and slipped it on.

It hugged my hips, clung to my ass, made me feel instantly exposed. The outline of my cock was more visible than I wanted it to be. But… maybe that was the point.

I threw on a clean white tee. Took one last look in the mirror. My thighs were bare. My cheeks peeked out under the hem of the shirt. My heart was thudding.

And I went downstairs.

The living room was chaos in slow motion.

A huge sectional couch took up most of the space. Five or six guys were lounging; some shirtless, some in swim trunks, others in loose gym shorts. No one seemed to care about the movie playing on the flatscreen. They were drinking, eating, laughing, sprawled with their legs wide open like they were home alone.

Until they saw me.

Every head turned. Every pair of eyes dragged down my body. And suddenly I could feel the shape of the thong under my shirt. I felt slutty. I felt watched. I felt… kind of high.

Brother Jace was sitting in the middle of the couch, arm flung lazily over the backrest.

“Come sit here, pledge,” he said.

I moved toward the open cushion next to him, heart racing, breath shallow.

But just as I was about to sit down, Jace raised one eyebrow.

“Not there, pledge. On my lap.”

I blinked. Laughed. “Wait. Are you serious?”

From across the room, Chase didn’t even look away from his drink.

“If a brother asks, you obey. No hesitation.”

Then Brett - tall, smirking, legs spread like a throne...added:

“Sit on his lap, pledge.”

My throat was dry. My whole body tingled. Their eyes were still on me. Curious. Amused.

I looked at Jace. He patted his thigh.

And I took one slow, trembling step forward.

Frat Games: The House Plaything | Part 2 - My First Task

[storiesbytroy]

He Saw Me With Another Man. Ten Minutes Later, His Cock Was In My Mouth

Last night, I hooked up with a French guy named Elliot; soft, sweet, romantic. He walked me home at sunrise, kissed me goodbye like we were something real. What I didn’t know? Dylan, my best friend's older brother, saw everything from across the street. And now he’s at my door. Pissed. Possessive. Ready to remind me who trained my throat in the first place.

___________________

I had barely dropped Elliot’s hoodie over the chair when the knock came: three sharp pounds that rattled the doorframe.

I opened it and Dylan was already pushing his way in. He looked like he’d just come back from hell, still in his workout gear, chest rising fast, sweat clinging to the curve of his throat. He didn’t say anything at first. Just looked at me. Looked at the hoodie. His eyes followed the shape of me; bare legs, morning hair, the smug little glow I must’ve still been wearing from last night.

He shut the door behind him without breaking eye contact. “Who the fuck was that?” he asked.

My throat tightened. “What?”

He took a step in,. “Outside. Curly-haired French guy."

“He’s Elliot” I said quietly.

“Oh, really?” Dylan laughed. “Did Elliot fuck you good, Troy?”

I blinked. “What?”

He stepped closer. “Is that where you were last night? With him?”

My breath caught. “Yeah, I spent the night.”

“Did. He. Fuck. You?” Dylan asked again, biting each word like it tasted bitter.

I swallowed. “No.”

He tilted his head. “No?”

“We… kissed. Cuddled.” My voice dropped.

Dylan laughed, then immediately sobered. “So you’re dating him now?”

I hesitated. “No. Not exactly. We’re taking it slow.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Taking it slow, huh?”

He stepped closer. My back hit the wall. “So that mouth’s still unclaimed?”

I flushed. “Dylan...”

“Then that hole still belongs to me.”

"You’re gonna blow me in his hoodie," he muttered. "Might even shoot my load on it. Bet he’d love that.”

I didn’t say anything. I didn’t need to. The moment was already spiraling into something else.

His hand found the back of my neck, steady and firm, pulling me into him like he couldn’t wait any longer. His mouth met mine in a hungry kiss; all heat and tension.. like he was trying to say everything he couldn’t with words. His body pressed against mine, warm and solid, and for a second, it felt like nothing else existed but the pull between us.

He kissed me like he was mad at me. Like he’d missed me. Like he hated himself for both. No words. Just heat. Tongues. Teeth. The sting of his stubble against my jaw. The hiss in his breath when I reached down and found him already hard in his gym shorts.

I dropped to my knees before I even thought about it.

His cock was heavy in my hand. Thick and swollen, veins pressing to the surface. He was already leaking when I licked the head, slow and teasing, just to hear him curse under his breath.

I opened my mouth and took him in....inch by inch until the back of my throat gave way. Until I felt my eyes water. Until he was pushing deeper than I remembered, deeper than I’d ever taken anyone.

Above me, he groaned. A guttural, aching sound.

“Fuck, Troy,” he exhaled, voice raw. “Your mouth… fuck.”

He started moving...slow thrusts at first, his fingers tangled in my hair, guiding me like he had all the time in the world to ruin me. I gagged once, twice, but he didn’t stop. He just growled and kept going, praising me with moans and broken gasps.

"You were struggling yesterday," he murmured. “Could barely take half of my cock in your mouth... Look at you now....taking me like it’s your job. Guess your throat is getting used to my cock now...”

His hips jerked forward suddenly, hitting the back of my throat. I gagged again, harder, eyes streaming now. But I didn’t pull away. I let him use me, let him rut against my face like he owned it.

He did.

He pulled out with a wet pop and gripped himself, breathing hard. A string of spit and precum still connected us. His cock twitched in his fist.

“We are not done.”

He pulled me up and spun me around. Bent me over the couch with one hand on my back, the other yanking down my sweats. He dropped to his knees again behind me. I felt his breath; hot and fast against my ass and then his tongue. Slick. Hungry. Sloppy.

The way he ate me out wasn’t gentle. It was messy. Loud. Dominant. Like he was trying to mark his territory.

Glawk.

Glawk.

Glawk.

Wet, greedy slurps echoed in the room... spit dripping, tongue working, filthier by the second. It didn’t sound like kissing. It sounded like consumption. Like worship. Like he was devouring something he believed belonged to him.

He spread me open, shoved his face in, and let out this low, guttural growl when I arched back into it. “Mmm, yeah,” he breathed. “This hole’s still mine.”

His fingers joined his mouth, working my hole open, two fingers then three, scissoring inside me as I moaned, face buried into the cushions, gripping the armrest like I was about to break it in two. He stood again, stroking his cock behind me, wet head slapping against my hole, teasing the rim but never pushing in. “You want this, Spaghetti Noodle?” he asked.

I was breathless. Shaking. “Y-Yess. I do, Dylan.”

“You want my cock inside you while you wear his hoodie?”

"Yes, please. I do.. " I nodded frantically.

He circled the head of his cock around my hole, just barely nudging against it...teasing, threatening. My breath hitched. I felt him twitch. Then, just as quickly, he pulled back.

“Whose hole is this?” he asked, his voice low, rough with control.

“Yours, Dylan,” I panted, already trembling. “It’s yours.”

He pressed forward again, the heat of him slick and leaking, barely kissing my entrance before pulling away once more.

“I didn’t hear you.” His tone was sharper now. “Do you want this?”

“Please, Dylan,” I whimpered, hips arching toward him. “I want you so fucking bad.”

And just when I thought he was about to give in, finally push inside me...I remembered.

“Dylan...fuck...wait. My sister. She might be back any second.”

He didn’t stop. Just hovered there, his cock hard and heavy, smearing pre-cum right where I needed him most.

“I locked the latch from inside,” he murmured, bending lower, his mouth near my ear. “She won’t walk in. Not unless you want her to.”

My head dropped back. My hole clenched.

He laughed under his breath and tapped his cock against me, slow, deliberate slaps that made me flinch with want.

“You were gagging on it yesterday,” he whispered. “Struggling. But I’m gonna train that throat. Just like I’m gonna ruin this hole.”

His cock slapped against me again...slow, heavy, rhythmic.

Thwack.

“Look how this hole twitches.”

Thwack.

“You think Elliot could fuck you like this?”

Thwack.

“No. He probably kisses you on the cheek and asks how your day was.”

Thwack.

“I am gonna fuck you so good you are going to forget his name.”

He slapped the tip of his cock against my entrance again. Circling. Coaxing.

I moaned into the couch, desperate. Barely able to hold still.

And just when he lined up to push in....

KNOCK. KNOCK.

“Troy? "

Knock. Knock.

"Troy...My keys aren't working”, said Becca.

I froze.

My sister Becca was home. Her voice was right outside the door. And Dylan’s cock was still nudging against my hole... leaking, twitching, ready to ruin me. One more second and everything...everything...was about to explode. ---

This scene is from my ongoing series My Best Friend's Brother Dylan. It’s a messy fuck triangle between Troy, his best friend’s possessive older brother Dylan, and a sweet French photographer named Elliot.

Twelve parts of this story are already on my Patreon if you want more of this filthy triangle.

[storiesbytroy]

Everything Meant Nothing (Love, Heartbreak, and a New Life)

Troy gave his heart to someone who never called it love. Now, freshly heartbroken and halfway across the world, he’s trying to start over... new country, new friends, new rules. But forgetting the boy who made him feel everything isn’t easy. Especially when his new roommate might be even harder to ignore.

A slow-burn gay love story about first heartbreak, forbidden kisses, and the terrifying hope that maybe, just maybe… you get a second chance.

The first three chapters of Arc 1 "Summer After Him" are already available on Patreon.

[storiesbytroy]

My Best Friend's Brother Wants To Fuck Me

#gay handsome#gay guy#gay man#gay love#gay men#gay pride#gay couple#gay art#gay stories#gay#$gaylit

[storiesbytroy]

He Saw Me With Another Man. Ten Minutes Later, His Cock Was In My Mouth

Last night, I hooked up with a French guy named Elliot; soft, sweet, romantic. He walked me home at sunrise, kissed me goodbye like we were something real. What I didn’t know? Dylan, my best friend's older brother, saw everything from across the street. And now he’s at my door. Pissed. Possessive. Ready to remind me who trained my throat in the first place.

___________________

I had barely dropped Elliot’s hoodie over the chair when the knock came: three sharp pounds that rattled the doorframe.

I opened it and Dylan was already pushing his way in. He looked like he’d just come back from hell, still in his workout gear, chest rising fast, sweat clinging to the curve of his throat. He didn’t say anything at first. Just looked at me. Looked at the hoodie. His eyes followed the shape of me; bare legs, morning hair, the smug little glow I must’ve still been wearing from last night.

He shut the door behind him without breaking eye contact. “Who the fuck was that?” he asked.

My throat tightened. “What?”

He took a step in,. “Outside. Curly-haired French guy."

“He’s Elliot” I said quietly.

“Oh, really?” Dylan laughed. “Did Elliot fuck you good, Troy?”

I blinked. “What?”

He stepped closer. “Is that where you were last night? With him?”

My breath caught. “Yeah, I spent the night.”

“Did. He. Fuck. You?” Dylan asked again, biting each word like it tasted bitter.

I swallowed. “No.”

He tilted his head. “No?”

“We… kissed. Cuddled.” My voice dropped.

Dylan laughed, then immediately sobered. “So you’re dating him now?”

I hesitated. “No. Not exactly. We’re taking it slow.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Taking it slow, huh?”

He stepped closer. My back hit the wall. “So that mouth’s still unclaimed?”

I flushed. “Dylan...”

“Then that hole still belongs to me.”

"You’re gonna blow me in his hoodie," he muttered. "Might even shoot my load on it. Bet he’d love that.”

I didn’t say anything. I didn’t need to. The moment was already spiraling into something else.

His hand found the back of my neck, steady and firm, pulling me into him like he couldn’t wait any longer. His mouth met mine in a hungry kiss; all heat and tension.. like he was trying to say everything he couldn’t with words. His body pressed against mine, warm and solid, and for a second, it felt like nothing else existed but the pull between us.

He kissed me like he was mad at me. Like he’d missed me. Like he hated himself for both. No words. Just heat. Tongues. Teeth. The sting of his stubble against my jaw. The hiss in his breath when I reached down and found him already hard in his gym shorts.

I dropped to my knees before I even thought about it.

His cock was heavy in my hand. Thick and swollen, veins pressing to the surface. He was already leaking when I licked the head, slow and teasing, just to hear him curse under his breath.

I opened my mouth and took him in....inch by inch until the back of my throat gave way. Until I felt my eyes water. Until he was pushing deeper than I remembered, deeper than I’d ever taken anyone.

Above me, he groaned. A guttural, aching sound.

“Fuck, Troy,” he exhaled, voice raw. “Your mouth… fuck.”

He started moving...slow thrusts at first, his fingers tangled in my hair, guiding me like he had all the time in the world to ruin me. I gagged once, twice, but he didn’t stop. He just growled and kept going, praising me with moans and broken gasps.

"You were struggling yesterday," he murmured. “Could barely take half of my cock in your mouth... Look at you now....taking me like it’s your job. Guess your throat is getting used to my cock now...”

His hips jerked forward suddenly, hitting the back of my throat. I gagged again, harder, eyes streaming now. But I didn’t pull away. I let him use me, let him rut against my face like he owned it.

He did.

He pulled out with a wet pop and gripped himself, breathing hard. A string of spit and precum still connected us. His cock twitched in his fist.

“We are not done.”

He pulled me up and spun me around. Bent me over the couch with one hand on my back, the other yanking down my sweats. He dropped to his knees again behind me. I felt his breath; hot and fast against my ass and then his tongue. Slick. Hungry. Sloppy.

The way he ate me out wasn’t gentle. It was messy. Loud. Dominant. Like he was trying to mark his territory.

Glawk.

Glawk.

Glawk.

Wet, greedy slurps echoed in the room... spit dripping, tongue working, filthier by the second. It didn’t sound like kissing. It sounded like consumption. Like worship. Like he was devouring something he believed belonged to him.

He spread me open, shoved his face in, and let out this low, guttural growl when I arched back into it. “Mmm, yeah,” he breathed. “This hole’s still mine.”

His fingers joined his mouth, working my hole open, two fingers then three, scissoring inside me as I moaned, face buried into the cushions, gripping the armrest like I was about to break it in two. He stood again, stroking his cock behind me, wet head slapping against my hole, teasing the rim but never pushing in. “You want this, Spaghetti Noodle?” he asked.

I was breathless. Shaking. “Y-Yess. I do, Dylan.”

“You want my cock inside you while you wear his hoodie?”

"Yes, please. I do.. " I nodded frantically.

He circled the head of his cock around my hole, just barely nudging against it...teasing, threatening. My breath hitched. I felt him twitch. Then, just as quickly, he pulled back.

“Whose hole is this?” he asked, his voice low, rough with control.

“Yours, Dylan,” I panted, already trembling. “It’s yours.”

He pressed forward again, the heat of him slick and leaking, barely kissing my entrance before pulling away once more.

“I didn’t hear you.” His tone was sharper now. “Do you want this?”

“Please, Dylan,” I whimpered, hips arching toward him. “I want you so fucking bad.”

And just when I thought he was about to give in, finally push inside me...I remembered.

“Dylan...fuck...wait. My sister. She might be back any second.”

He didn’t stop. Just hovered there, his cock hard and heavy, smearing pre-cum right where I needed him most.

“I locked the latch from inside,” he murmured, bending lower, his mouth near my ear. “She won’t walk in. Not unless you want her to.”

My head dropped back. My hole clenched.

He laughed under his breath and tapped his cock against me, slow, deliberate slaps that made me flinch with want.

“You were gagging on it yesterday,” he whispered. “Struggling. But I’m gonna train that throat. Just like I’m gonna ruin this hole.”

His cock slapped against me again...slow, heavy, rhythmic.

Thwack.

“Look how this hole twitches.”

Thwack.

“You think Elliot could fuck you like this?”

Thwack.

“No. He probably kisses you on the cheek and asks how your day was.”

Thwack.

“I am gonna fuck you so good you are going to forget his name.”

He slapped the tip of his cock against my entrance again. Circling. Coaxing.

I moaned into the couch, desperate. Barely able to hold still.

And just when he lined up to push in....

KNOCK. KNOCK.

“Troy? "

Knock. Knock.

"Troy...My keys aren't working”, said Becca.

I froze.

My sister Becca was home. Her voice was right outside the door. And Dylan’s cock was still nudging against my hole... leaking, twitching, ready to ruin me. One more second and everything...everything...was about to explode. ---

This scene is from my ongoing series My Best Friend's Brother Dylan. It’s a messy fuck triangle between Troy, his best friend’s possessive older brother Dylan, and a sweet French photographer named Elliot.

Twelve parts of this story are already on my Patreon if you want more of this filthy triangle.

[storiesbytroy]

[storiesbytroy]

Everything Meant Nothing (Love, Heartbreak, and a New Life)

Troy gave his heart to someone who never called it love. Now, freshly heartbroken and halfway across the world, he’s trying to start over... new country, new friends, new rules. But forgetting the boy who made him feel everything isn’t easy. Especially when his new roommate might be even harder to ignore.

A slow-burn gay love story about first heartbreak, forbidden kisses, and the terrifying hope that maybe, just maybe… you get a second chance.

The first three chapters of Arc 1 "Summer After Him" are already available on Patreon.

[storiesbytroy]

Support Me

Hey, I’m Troy. I write slow-burn gay erotica with heart, heat, and a lot of sexual tension. Join my Patreon if you enjoy my content. <3

[storiesbytroy]

[storiesbytroy]

My Neighbor Watched Me While I sucked off my friend #gay #GayRomance #erotica #GayLit #gayerotica #QueerTales #gaystories #LGBTQFiction #nsfw #shirtless

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I have a hot neighbor who I want to suck

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Getting Fucked by 5 guys - Frat Games : The House Slut

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I have a hot neighbor who I want to suck

[storiesbytroy]

My Frat Bro Came Into My Room Late night and fucked me raw

[storiesbytroy]

My Frat Bro Came Into My Room Late night and fucked me raw

[storiesbytroy]

My Frat Bro Came Into My Room Late night and fucked me raw