Serving Rod

Author's Note: I've read a story similar to this, probably on this site – but I can't find it again. If you recognize the storyline and remember the name or author, please leave a note in the comments below.

For now, I'm creating a similar tribute story – as I remember it, with my own spin on it. Many of the details in this story will be significantly different, but I'll try to keep the overall tone about the same.

No disrespect to the original author intended. (Au Contraire!)

*****

I'd known him all my life. We were friends – good friends, but not quite 'best friends'. We played together outside in the woods with other kids, or rode bikes, went to school, and various other activities, hanging out since before I can remember. We lived on the same block, had the same friends, and grew up together. We turned 18 the same month, and our parents threw a little block party to celebrate.

My family was firmly middle-class – but his family was fairly well off, his dad a successful lawyer, and his name was almost as pompous as their station in life: Roderick Wilson Snipe. They lived in the nicest home in the neighborhood.

Rod was more popular than me, had more friends than me, and had far, far more luck with the girls than I did. Most days, I just considered myself lucky that I knew him at all.

Why is this important? It's not - but it adds to the background.

I'd known Rod for years and was glad to have him as a friend. So, naturally, during our senior year in High School, when we were assigned to be lab partners for the final project in Science class, I was happy to know it was someone who I knew, I liked, and I looked up to, even if I got a sinking feeling in my gut that I'd be doing most of the work. It had been a few weeks since I'd last spoken to him – we were friends but not super-close – and I looked over at my new lab partner and smiled.

Puberty had been good to Rod. His body had fleshed out to a stocky 6'2", 180lbs firm and muscled all around, with rugged good looks that attracted many of the girls in our class. I, however, was 'blessed' with what my mom called a "runner's build", and at 5'6" and 115lbs, I called it 'gangly'. Girls never took a second look at me – and rarely even looked at all.

I was fortunate that most of the classes I took came easy to me, and although I never really considered myself smart, my grades were good, and my college prospects were good too, but I was going to State anyway because of the costs. For the time being, Rod was focused more on football, but everyone knew that college and law school was a sure thing in his privileged future.

"Hey, Poindexter, how's it goin?" He laughed loudly, tousling my hair as I moved to his lab station.

I just looked at him with a pained 'WTF' expression, and he laughed again.

"I'm just Kidding!" he said in a much lower voice, and smiled his charming smile. He always had a nice smile, which made it easy for him with the girls. "I'm glad that Mr. Orasky put us together, you know this shit backwards and forwards, that's all I meant." The way he looked at me, even during his half-assed apology, sent a shiver down my spine, and for some reason, I found myself wanting to stare at the floor.

"My name is Bob." I said. I was immediately embarrassed by the weak and pathetic tone of my voice.

Rod laughed again, and actually tousled my hair again. "I know that, Bobby – I'm just fuckin' with ya, that's all. Let's get started on this project, okay?" I wasn't happy with the diminutive "Bobby" – but it was better than "Poindexter", so I opened my book and we began to look at the assignment.

Over the next few weeks, things were pretty much normal. Life went on, and the lab project with Rod was just one of those things that I'd added to my day-to-day life.

Like I suspected, I did most of the work, and Rod watched and encouraged me, but our conversations were usually limited to his latest activities on the gridiron, or the conquest of the latest cheerleader. There were so many of those, I couldn't keep track! The names seemed to change every few days! I couldn't possibly commiserate – I had never even had one girlfriend, little alone have to keep a dozen names straight! I couldn't remember from one day to the next if he was fucking Melissa, or Heather, Jennifer, Nichole, Monika or Chrissy. At one point in time or the other, he'd chased them all, and fucked most of them. I was pretty jealous – just listening to his exploits made my virgin cock hard with frustration.

Toward the end of the semester, we had to start picking up the pace. Doing most of the work myself wasn't cutting it, and even Rod knew it. He suggested we have study sessions at his house to make up some of the work we needed to complete. His parents had divorced, so his mom was gone and his dad was frequently off with his new, younger 'trophy' wife. We'd have the place to ourselves. I wasn't too keen on that idea, but he wouldn't take no for an answer, so I found myself going over to his place a couple of nights a week. My parents were cool with it – I think they were relieved to get me out of the house once in a while.

Things weren't much different in our after-school sessions – I'd do most of the work and he'd talk about his personal life. Being at home he felt free to drink his dads' beer and talk more openly about his sex life, using far more graphic terms, describing the various positions and acts he performed with all these girls, and the degrading and intimate things they'd do to him. He was quite the incredible cocksman – even if only half what he said was true!

The night of one of the last big senior dances had a dramatic change for Rod. Naturally, with no date in sight, I wasn't there, but the big story all over school next Monday was that three of the girls he'd been regularly having sex with, including one who was rumored to be pregnant with his child, all had a huge fight in the school gymnasium, complete with shrieking, scratching, hair pulling and assorted name-calling.

Initially, this excited the ego of a guy like Rod, having three women fight so furiously over him, but the longer-term issue started to become major down-turn for him – word quickly spread among the girls that he was a "player" and the number of women available to him suddenly dried up – to zero.

The next week, our study sessions continued, but now I had to listen to him complain about how he was doing without pussy, and his growing frustration because of it. Apparently, he almost never went more than two days without a "date" and now it had been over a week. I was supposed to feel sorry for him, but since I'd never been laid – ever – I was having difficulty with more than passing sympathy for a guy whose dick had been dry for barely a week.

The following Friday night, we sat in his room like usual, he in only a t-shirt and baggy sweat shorts, repeatedly draining beers while I worked on our project and listened to him complain about the absence of compliant and willing women in his life. "It's just not fair," he protested as he tossed yet another empty into the trash, "They ganged up on me and now none of the girls will give me any!"

I tried to be understanding, but it was tough. He shifted in his chair, and for the first time, I noticed a substantial movement in his crotch, followed by a rippling down the right leg of his shorts. I tried not to look, but I'm sure I caught a glimpse of something fleshy poking out of the left leg of his shorts. I quickly looked away. Could that have been...??? No... No one's dick could be that big... Could it??

Was puberty *that* good to him? I glanced again. Yes... yes, it was. Damn him.

It was too late – he'd seen my gaze. I tried to change the subject back to our project, but after a short while he said something that chilled me to the bone. "I mean, it's been so long since I've had a BJ... I'd let just about anyone suck my cock – know what I mean?"

I looked away, tried to laugh and managed a meek "Yeah, right..." When I looked back, he was staring at me with a fire in his eyes I'd never seen before. Not wanting to make eye contact, I looked away – so I looked down. Shit! Before, I thought I'd glimpsed his manhood, but now, there was no mistaking it!

About half an inch of cock was sticking out from the left leg of his sweat shorts, and the thickening shaft was making his shorts tent all the way back up the leg. I didn't want to see that!! I turned my gaze back upwards. Rod was looking me right in the eye, laughing gently. He'd set me up, and I fell for it – I'd been totally busted looking at his hardening cock – again.

A smile spread slowly across his face. He got up slowly, and headed to the fridge for another beer. As he came back, he turned toward me, casually pulling up his shorts before returning to his position in the chair. The fabric rode up on his hips, and when he sat back down they rode up even further. I couldn't help but look down to notice that a couple inches of his cock slipped out for me to see. He took a long pull from his beer, all the while noticing that not only had I seen the little show he was putting on, I was practically staring at his dick.

Rod chuckled softly, and wasted no time working it to his advantage. "Like what you see, Bobby?" I felt the pit of my stomach fall, my throat tighten – but scariest of all – my virgin cock was hardening.

Could I think of something clever and dismissive to say? Hell, no. "Um... ah... yeah – it's... uh... big." I stammered.

Rod just smiled, closing the trap like he'd done on dozens of girls. "Wanna take a closer look?" He asked in a low voice, almost a whisper. It was just the two of us in that big old house, so his quiet voice made the whole issue more intimate, more intriguing... more... personal. I hesitated, but he didn't give me time to think or speak, he just made the offer more interesting.

Lifting off the chair just a bit, he hiked his shorts up even further and rolled his hips down, revealing several inches of hard, throbbing dick for me to look at, framed neatly against the hairy backdrop of his muscular leg. Like an idiot, of course I looked, noticing that a big clear drop was already forming at the slit of the reddening head.

Even from here I could tell he was at least twice my size. I sat there, mesmerized and terrified, not moving, almost not breathing. Rod shifted his hips again, and another inch or so of that cock snaked its way out of his shorts! "Come on, Bobby... it's just you and me... no one will know. Get a good look. I know you wanna..."

His voice, soft and silky, added to the disconnected reality that I found myself in. Here I was, with a kid I'd known all my life, suddenly face to face with the fact he wasn't a kid anymore. He was a man, a big man with a big mans dick, and he was showing this dick to me! A shot of terror jolted my body - I was in a sexual situation that I didn't want, had not planned on, and had no way to deal with.

Rod took charge, finishing his beer and rising from his chair. Mercifully his sweat shorts moved enough to cover the length of his hardening manhood, and, free of the mesmerizing stare of his one-eyed snake, I looked up into his eyes.

That was a mistake. His soft blue eyes gazed downward, fully focused on me, imploring me to do his bidding. I wasn't even sure what he wanted, but looking upwards into his eyes like that, I felt like I could deny him nothing.

I heard the soft rustle of cloth, and, almost absentmindedly, dropped my gaze to his shorts.

They were gone!! I wasn't looking at his shorts anymore – I was staring, eye level, directly at his exposed cock.

Freed from the soft cotton prison, it was still rebounding, bouncing softly just inches away from my face. Below it, surrounded by tufts of dark, curly hair, hung his nuts, one orb larger than the other, but both substantial.

I tried to do some comparative assessment, but my mind was whirling. His cock was easily twice the size of my own – and many frustrated times I'd measured that to be just under four inches. He was so, so much bigger around, too, and thick veins crisscrossed the large shaft like mountain ranges on a topographical map. As if to give me a better view, he moved a step closer. He was barely an inch away now.

Silently I just sat there and stared at his penis, watching it grow and throb. I could feel the heat coming from it, I could smell the unwashed manliness of his crotch, a smell that was strong and while it wasn't pleasant, it was very masculine and highly erotic. His cock hung before me, weaving like a serpent as it pulsed slowly, growing with every heartbeat. I could see it was hungry – like it had a mind of its own and it wanted to feed.

It occurred to me that there was no one else here who could feed that hunger but me, and that woke me out of my daze.

"Rod – it's nice, but we need to get back to work..." I tried weakly.

Rod shushed me before I could finish. "Nah, Bobby – we have lots of time for that... but this..." He flexed his hips, and his cock slapped against my cheek, leaving a wet slimy trail of pre-cum on my face. "This... Needs attention. Right Now." He smiled again, and took half a step back.

"Touch it." he commanded.

I didn't want to. I'm not gay, I thought to myself. I've never had a gay thought in my mind – ever. Rod's penis bobbed slowly in my view, pulsing with the beating of his heart like a serpent hypnotizing its prey.

But... if I'm not gay... then why am I looking at his dick?? Again?

Rod flexed his hips slowly, and his shaft flexed and stretched, growing even larger. The bead of precum collecting at his piss slit began to form a drop, slowly, obscenely, dripping toward the floor. It was magical to watch, and suddenly I found myself obsessed with the question: "what does that feel like"?

It didn't take much of a suggestion, but Rod suggested it anyway, as if he was reading my mind.

"Go on, Bobby... feel my cock." Then, even softer, "...you know you want to."

I gulped. I did.

It was almost like I was watching a movie where someone else took control of my hand and used it to reach up to grasp his rigid shaft. Almost. Except that I could actually feel the heat from his cock in my hand, I could feel the slipperiness of the pre-cum as it oozed into my palm and slithered onto my wrist, and I could feel the firm yet soft cockhead as it slid comfortably into my palm, almost like it belonged there all this time.

Rod sighed with pleasure, and an odd wave of satisfaction swept over me. I moved my hand along his ample shaft, feeling some pride in knowing I was making the big stud shudder with joy. The feeling of his hard cock, slippery in my hands with juice he'd just made for the occasion, triggered a response in me that I did not expect. Slowly, almost reverently, I slid my hand up and down the shaft, my eyes transfixed on the cockhead in front of me while my hand slowly explored every inch of his thick, veiny dick.

Rod moaned with pleasure, and hissed "Yesss... thatta boy, Bobby..." I could feel his hips flex as I slowly stroked his cock. I could feel it, still growing in my hand, as he became more and more aroused. I heard his voice from above. "Mmm... yeah... Feel my balls."

I looked up – I'd been staring at his cock all this time, and when I raised my eyes to meet his gaze, the lust and passion I saw there made me melt. Obeying without thinking about it, my free hand rose to cup his nuts. They were large, firm, and hairy, and their considerable weight made me wonder just how much sperm they held. I rolled them softly in my palm, all the while stroking his erect cock. He moaned softly again, and the pleasure in his voice as he responded to my touch made my reservations about this whole situation start to fade.

He moved forward again, and his cock bumped into my cheek, his ample precum leaving another wet spot on my face. The smell from his excited cock and full bull balls was overwhelming, inexplicably both good and bad. It certainly wasn't a "good" smell, but it was a "right" smell and it triggered me to keep stroking his erect member.

Rod expertly moved his hips, guiding the wet end of his cock across my lips. "Taste it," was all he said, using the tip of his dick to paint my lips with his self-made lip gloss. I felt the pit of my stomach lurch, and I tried to back away. How had I gotten into this situation, and how could I get out of it?

Studying with him had suddenly turned into... what? There was no way I was going to put his dick in my mouth, and I wondered how it had wound up in my hand in the first place. I tried to back away, trying to save what was left of my masculinity, but suddenly his hands found the back of my head, and pulled, urging me forward.

I turned my head a little. "No... Rod... please..." I protested. I could still feel his fresh precum coating my lips, and it made a sticky sensation when I opened my mouth, trying to protest. There was very little flavor in the thick, viscous gel, but the weight, heat, and intent of it all made my senses reel and the terror in my heart rose again. I backed up another inch, until my back and head came up against the wall. I'm sure my eyes grew wide. Rod took a step closer to keep his cock in my hand, and right at my mouth.

I had nowhere to go.

He wasn't taking no for an answer. "Taste it, Bobby," he repeated, "You know you want to." He was almost whispering again. I was trapped, and his cock was right there, hot and urgent, bumping into my cheek. I could feel it leaving a trail of goo as I tried to turn away. I looked up into his eyes again, to implore him to reconsider... but all that did was put my chin at a convenient angle.

When I opened my mouth to say "No..." again, he nonchalantly slipped the head of his slippery penis into my mouth, as if he'd done it a million times over and it was no big deal.

It was a very big deal. It was a very big cock.

I was totally hypnotized. The warm, yet soft sponginess of his cockhead. The slippery coating of precum, lazily drooling into my mouth, leaving an odd taste and an even more odd feel of thickness and warmth. The overwhelming testosterone man-smell. The sight of his cock-shaft, bobbing at the entrance to my mouth, and disappearing into the forest of curly black crotch hair. These sensations bulldozed my resistance, even as the impressive hardness of his dick in my hand as it slid up and down the turgid shaft scared me more than a little.

Yes, even though I did not want this, my hand was still sliding up and down the length of his erection, as if I had no control over what it was doing. I looked, cross-eyed, down the length of it, marveling how much raw cock was still outside my mouth, impatiently waiting to be serviced. The so-far unused portion of his shaft more than filled my hand, and my brain absentmindedly did the math and figured him to be – Jesus Christ, could anybody be *that* well hung? Probably. My fingers could no longer fit around the girth of his still thickening manhood.

"Shit, this boy is big." I thought to myself, then promptly corrected it. He was no boy.

"This man is huge."

He pushed forward with his hips, driving his dick just a little deeper, and I started to gag. Both my throat and my brain revolted one more time at what I was doing, and I spit him out, turning my face away from his penis and trying one more feeble protest. "Rod... please don't... we can't... I can't do this... I'm not ... What if..." I couldn't even put a sentence together. Rod was having none of it anyway.

He put a finger on my chin, and turned my head to center up with his dick. He only used one finger – not because he was so strong, but because I didn't fight him. He returned his cockhead to my lips, easily pushing past my tightly-closed lips and clenched jaw – because the instant that he rubbed the head of that big, wet, hot dick against my lips, my mouth just opened all by itself! Rod sighed and thrust forward, his shaft pushing the head of his cock to the back of my mouth like it belonged there.