Washed Out

It’s probably never a good idea for an arrogant Alpha jock to take rides home from strangers.

Dale had hit the ground running in high school. By the time that he got to college, he had bloomed into a veritable god of a man. He looked and acted every bit the quintessential alpha male. He knew what he was, and he enjoyed it, walking around campus as though he owned the place.

There was good reason for Dale’s confidence. Life, so far, had broken his way for the most part. Despite a history of bullying, mostly against more effeminate guys who didn’t quite meet his standard of masculinity, and sexual assault, against the ones that turned out to actually be gay, none of it had stuck on his record.

Even though he had grown up in a relatively large city with quite a Liberal-leaning population, Dale was not only white and competent academically, he was also a star athlete, and had an influential family. Trying to get any dirt to stick to his record would have taken a colossal amount of effort.

Because of all the success that he’d experienced in life, Dale didn’t quite know how to deal with failure. The series of events that had led to him standing here, naked and dirty in front of an unfamiliar shower in a stranger’s home, felt surreal to him.

The day had started about as well as any other day in Dale’s life. His girl, the second one this month, woke him up with a blowjob just the way he liked it. He’d gotten out of bed right after, claiming that he would run late to the gym if he didn’t, but in truth just not having the energy to deal with reciprocating now that he had gotten his rocks off.

From there, one thing seemed to go wrong after the other. Dale’s car broke down on the way to the gym. He got it towed to a nearby mechanic who said that the repairs would be a simple matter. The problem was that a freak accident totalled his car while it was parked, at full stop, inside the mechanic’s shop.

By the time that the ordeal was over and Dale could leave, he was late for his first classes and had to hurry over to the university. Since it was clear he wasn’t getting to the gym for his morning workout, he decided he would just run to the university.

The first few minutes of the run were pleasant enough. Dale got to feel the burn, which he loved, and got a good sweat going. It took a turn when a dog got loose from a house on his route and chased him into a hedge. He spent the last few blocks to the university trying to pick leaves and twigs out of his shirt and bag.

Dale’s classes were relatively unremarkable, though people were definitely looking at him in a way that he wasn’t used to. He hated the scrutiny, the speculation that he could faintly hear. But there was fuck all he could do while the professor was going on in front of the class.

Dale had been in such a hurry and had been so put off his game by the day’s events that he didn’t realize he’d accidentally put his phone on airplane mode until his classes were done. The only reason he even noticed was because he wanted to grab a cab to get back to his apartment.

When the text messages and voice mails started coming in, Dale realized with a sinking feeling that he had missed a whole bunch of calls from his girl and the mechanic.

The mechanic received Dale’s first call back since his car was the priority. The girl could wait. They weren’t even serious, in his mind, though he certainly let her think so. When the guy on the other end finally picked up, he was told that repairs wouldn’t be done for a while since they had to order certain parts that they thought they had in stock but had apparently been stolen by a recently-fired employee.

Dale listened to his girl’s voice messages before he even pondered calling her. She was incredibly irate, calling him all sorts of names, accusing him of being insensitive. It wasn’t anything he hadn’t heard before, and honestly, he didn’t care. Most of the bitches he fucked just overreacted so much to every little thing and he had no time for it. But he had to admit that he was disappointed he wasn’t going to come home to a warm pussy to take his frustrations out on since the girl called it all off.

Considering the cost of the repairs on his car, Dale decided that he would just walk home. He didn’t want to spend any more money than he had to. But even that proved to be a major mistake.

Not even halfway through his journey, it started pouring. Ice-cold rain seemingly from out of nowhere. All Dale could really do was walk along in dejection since he was woefully unprepared. To add insult to injury, a car speeding past sprayed him with dirty, muddy water.

Thankfully, something finally broke in Dale’s favor afterward. A few minutes later, when he was trying his best not to scream in frustration, a car pulled up and asked if he needed any help. He was grateful, and even though he offered, the dignified older gentleman at the wheel refused to take any payment for it.

The man said that he lived nearby and offered to let Dale step in briefly to freshen up. By that point, Dale was profoundly uncomfortable in his rain-soaked clothes and was more than eager to take him up on it. The man seemed to be about Dale’s size and said that he had some old clothes that Dale could borrow to change into.

Dale glanced at himself in the mirror. It was like the whole universe had conspired to give him the worst day, today. And yet all the bad luck in the world couldn’t take away his pride and joy: his body.

A small smirk pulling at the corner of his lips as he clawed back his confidence from the resignation that he’d felt walking home in the rain, Dale ran his fingers over his firm chest. His muscles bulged and rippled with his every movement, reminding him of how hard he’d worked to get where he was.

Dale was an Alpha. He was a top dog. He was tall, handsome, his jaw chiseled, his abs a veritable washboard. Between his legs was a thick, pendulous cock perched on top of two large balls filled with virile cum. He remembered who and what he was, and knew that this brief setback would do nothing to usurp the bright future that he had in front of him.

Dale slicked back his damp, luscious dark locks and reached into the shower enclosure turn the water on. To the hottest setting that he could manage. He watched as the steam rose inside the glass enclosure.

The defeated look on his grimy face replaced by the arrogant smirk that just looked so right on his lips, Dale watched himself in the mirror until it fogged up. He took a deep breath and relaxed, relishing the sensation of the steam rushing over his body as he pulled open the enclosure door and stepped in.

It was only then that it occurred to Dale just how tired he was. His arms and legs felt sore and tense. He took another deep breath and tried his best to loosen up.

It occurred to Dale that he was in a stranger’s house, showering in a stranger’s bathroom. As he breathed in the warm muggy are of the steamy enclosure, he failed to remember why he had come to be in this position in the first place.

Dale figured that he was probably hooking up with someone, though he distinctly remembered that the stranger he’d come in with was an older gentleman. He wasn’t gay. He had a girl and was pretty sure that he enjoyed sex with her. But even that felt a bit hollow.

With another deep breath, Dale stepped into the stream of water. It was pleasant, the pitter-patter on the floor of the enclosure almost rhythmic. He relaxed even more as the heat worked its way into his muscles and loosened his entire body up.

Dale felt a knot of arousal in his stomach. He tried to imagine his girl, but her face was something of a blur. Nothing new. He didn’t really look at women’s faces all that much. Boobs were much easier for him to visualize, but even that didn’t seem all too appealing. And the only reason he’d ever liked pussy was because he could stick his dick in it—he’d never liked to look at it, so pussy was out of the question.

An intrusive memory flitted into Dale’s mind. It was of his first fag. He’d never bothered to learn the guy’s name, but he did remember that the fag a fantastic ass. Better than any of the girls he’d dated before then and since.

A quiet moan slipped out of Dale as he felt his cock respond to the memory. Oh he did love messing with the faggots at his school, loved making them squirm, loved making them cry. But more importantly, god he loved their bodies.

Dale shut his eyes as he moved his hand to his dick. He was getting hard, and with a few tugs he was halfway there. He remembered squeezing the guy’s ass, remembered pulling the thick ass cheeks apart and spitting on that twitching hole.

A part of Dale thought it was messed up that he was fantasizing to a memory of a guy, but he was starting to feel so good that it didn’t matter. Dale remembered the guy sitting back, mashing Dale’s nose into the musky crack of his ass, except that had never happened, or at least he was pretty sure that it hadn’t.

The memory was incredibly vivid, though. It was as if Dale could relive it in his mind. He remembered how aroused he was with this guy sitting on his face, how hard his cock had gotten as he stuck his tongue out and slurped on the guy’s hole.

Dale’s eyes snapped open. He wrenched his hand away from his cock. That had never happened. He would have never let it happen. He was always in charge. he used the fags and dumped them. Why the fuck would he have stuck his tongue down one’s ass, let alone let one sit on his face?

And yet the memory was so clear. He could remember every detail, recall every sensation. The taste. The smell. The texture on his tongue. How fucking turned on he had been as he slurped on that guy’s ass.

Dale shook his head. Intrusive thoughts. That was what it was. It wasn’t a memory, it was a sick fantasy that his mind had somehow come up with. That was the explanation he was going to stick with. "I’m not a fucking faggot," he whispered, as he took a deep breath to settle his nerves.

Dale figured that he would just get the shower over with. He shouldn’t have been jerking off in there to begin with. He was at a stranger’s place. It was inappropriate.

With another deep breath that sent a shiver down Dale’s spine, right to the tip of his straining cock, Dale lowered his head into the stream of water again. He grabbed the bottle of shampoo and lathered it into his hair.

As he was washing his head, another memory rose up in Dale’s mind. This time it was of his first crush. It was at some point in his freshman year. He’d made it onto the varsity team despite being a freshie, and had been hoping he could impress one of the guys in his mandatory writing credit, a senior student who had put it off until his last year of study.

Dale resisted the memory. He didn’t get crushes on guys. Guys got crushes on him. He never had to impress anyone by virtue of just being naturally impressive. Guys were drawn to him, not the other way around. And yet the memory was so crystal clear that he couldn’t help but question what was true.

In the memory, Dale remembered being the last one in the locker room. He’d never been ashamed of who he was, but he still didn’t want the guys to know that he popped boners whenever they showered. He didn’t want them to know that there were nights that he whacked off to fucking their asses.

Dale remembered that his crush had come into the locker room then. Said that he had been looking for Dale. Wanted to congratulate him. The mere fact that his crush had been there, in the locker room, alone with him, had been enough to give Dale the biggest erection of his life.

Dale remembered trying to play it off cool. But his crush had noticed the lump in his towel when he went back to get changed. His crush had asked him if he needed any help with it, in a low seductive voice that no 19-year-old could have resisted.

That was how Dale ended up sitting on one of the benches, his crush next to him but leaning over his crotch, gently sucking on his erection. Except, Dale hadn’t been enjoying it. He remembered that it had felt good to have his crush’s mouth on his cock, but that it had felt wrong.

Dale struggled to shake the memory out of his head, but it wouldn’t go away. He had guessed where it was going, and didn’t like it. It didn’t fit with this image he had of his masculine dominant self, but he couldn’t deny how real the memory felt, how true the emotions it stirred up were.

Dale remembered gently pushing his crush off his cock and explaining that he wasn’t really getting into it. He remembered reassuring his crush that he was into guys. That he was into his crush. Just that he didn’t enjoy being blown.

Dale had placed his hand on his crush’s thigh, close to the sizable lump that his crush’s erection was making in the tight jeans. Then, he’d slid onto the tiles of the locker room floor, and had felt like he was exactly where he needed to be.

The hot shower water pounded on Dale’s back as he struggled not to grab his cock. He was so hard. So fucking turned on remembering his first sexual experience with a guy. The only reason he wasn’t jerking off was because he thought it would be rude to.

In the back of his head, Dale remembered the thrill of sucking off a student in the locker room when he didn’t really have a right to be there once the rest of the team had left.

Dale frowned. That was strange. He did have every right to be in the locker room. He used it every day for practice. He was always there for the team. He distinctly remembered being a player—and then it hit him. He had never been a player. He had always been the water boy, put there because he didn’t have a shred of football talent, but his rich dad wanted him to be a part of the team.

The last thing that Dale could remember about that special night was moaning so loud while he came hands-free from sucking off his crush that the two of them almost got caught by the custodian.

Dale opened his eyes. He was so fucking hard. It was hard to see given the shower and the steam, but he was dripping from the tip of his modest cock. He wasn’t the biggest, but he was proud of his size. There was lots to play with, whenever he was in the mood.

This time, though, Dale elected to ignore his cock. Not that he wasn’t horny as all sin, or that he didn’t want to cum, but usually he preferred to do it while pleasuring his partner. He figured that he should probably get on with his shower. His hook up was waiting for him.

As he lathered up his body with soap, Dale remembered the first and only time that he had attempted to top. It was a fond memory, and one that made his cock strain even more. It was getting harder and harder to ignore.

Dale and his crush had hit it off after the locker room incident, but they weren’t exclusive when they got together. For one thing, his crush Damien was graduating soon and Dale had years left on his degree if he ever managed to finish it.

Truth was, Dale had never been the sharpest tool in the shed and had only managed to make it so far on his father’s money. College was the real deal, though, and he was floundering a little bit. His boyfriend helped, but could only do so much.

In any case, the first time that they decided to try penetration, Damien wanted him to top because, as he figured, Dale hadn’t had much experience at the time. Dale had reluctantly agreed despite his reservations. He had enthusiastically rimmed Damien, loving every moment of it, and the moans that Damien made, but when the time came, he could barely get his somewhat below-average cock even half-hard.

So, to make the best of the night that they had, Dale’s boyfriend decided to try and introduce Dale to bottoming. Damien rimmed Dale for what felt like hours, and at the end of it Dale felt like he barely had strength left in his legs to keep his ass up in the air.

Damien, ever one to rise to the occasion, decided to fuck Dale’s ass while Dale was lying flat on his stomach. That was the day that Dale discovered how much he loved getting fucked. He squealed with every thrust until Damien fucked him into a shuddering orgasm without once being able to touch his cock—which was pinned between his groin and the bed, out of reach.

Practically panting as he leaned his forehead against the glass wall of the enclosure, Dale struggled to justify to himself why he wasn’t just jerking off. Again, he had to tell himself that it was rude. He was here to hook up, and it would be incredibly inappropriate if he came before his partner did.

Dale quickly ran his fingers through his hair and discovered little bits and pieces of detritus from his run-in with a hedge earlier that morning. He lathered up with shampoo again, remembering yet another memory from his college years as he rubbed the suds into his scalp.

It was sophomore year. Dale had mostly gotten over his boyfriend, who had had a week of wild nights with him after graduation before moving halfway across the country to pursue his career. And he had had a fair bit of luck getting laid—a colossal understatement—but hadn’t managed to get any over about a week.

Dale remembered going to a bar. It wasn’t one that he went to all that often, so he didn’t know and hadn’t slept with many of the guys here. Which was saying something, since he had been sleeping around so much that he practically did no work for his classes anymore. Not that he would have been able to, anyway. Without Damien his classes had all been too difficult.

That was the night Dale discovered that he loved older men. The older gentleman who had taken him home had done things to his hole and his tight little body that had made him scream. He also managed to forget his own name for a few minutes, but he already did that when guys really went to town on his ass, so it didn’t count.

There was just something about the dignified, silver-haired old fox that got Dale’s blood boiling. And the years of experience certainly helped. That guy, even though Dale didn’t know his name, remained with Dale for the rest of his time in College—two months, since he got expelled for failing all his classes at the end of that term.

Dale rinsed his pretty golden blond hair in the shower before turning the water off and letting the steam dissipate. His tiny little button of a cock, no more than three inches long, was rock hard between his legs. But he knew better than to touch it.

With a deeply satisfied sigh, Dale reached out of the enclosure to grab his towel. He realized that it wasn’t there. His cute little sky blue towel was nowhere to be seen. Which left only Daddy’s big red one.

Dale shook his head and giggled. He sounded so vapid, it made his nub twitch. He was such a fucking airhead. This was why he’d washed out of college. He had never been meant to do real world thinking and all that stuff, he was just too stupid for it all. And that was okay! Daddy had taught him so. His biological Daddy was disappointed in him, but that was also okay. He had a new Daddy now, one that was proud of him and took care of all his needs.

Dale grabbed Daddy’s towel and dried off with it. Oh well. It was easier to ask forgiveness than persecution, or something like that. Besides, he didn’t mind if Daddy spanked him for being such a dumb little slut. He loved it when Daddy beat his tight little ass.

Carefully, Dale stepped out of the shower. He looked at himself in the mirror. He loved his petite little body and the soft blond hair that sat on top of his head. He looked cute as a button, which Daddy said was the best look for a boi like him.

Dale giggled again. He was soooo dumb it looked like there weren’t any brains behind his eyes. Taking his time because he could never quite figure out how to do it properly, Dale wrapped the towel around his waist and walked out of the bathroom.

Sure enough, the towel fell onto the floor once he was in the bedroom, revealing Dale’s cute little two-inch nub and big round bubble butt to the naked man reclining on the bed. Dale’s boipussy twitched when he saw Daddy’s huge, thick cock laying on Daddy’s thigh.

"Took you long enough, boy," said the man on the bed, leaning forward to pat the bed between his legs. "Come on, you stupid little faggot, I’ve got something I want you to take care of."

Dale shivered and giggled. He loved it when Daddy called him a faggot. It made his boipussy tingle even more. He had the faintest sense that something was wrong when he jumped onto the bed and latched his lips around the blunt head of Daddy’s cock, but he quickly dismissed it.

Where else was a silly little slut like Dale supposed to be? It wasn’t like he was a big hunky football stud with a future. No. This was where Dale belonged. Between his Daddy’s legs, sucking cock like his life depended on it.

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