aquilesquill

Sabotaging No Nut November - Chapter 6

(All acts described are consensual)

He froze, those dark eyes boring into me – not with anger, but calculation. Then his smirk returned, colder this time. "Talking won't save you now." His hand wrenched free, shoving my jeans and boxers down my thighs in one brutal motion. My cock sprang free, flushed and already leaking against my stomach.

"Jesus, Ryan!" I wanted t...

Sabotaging No Nut November - Chapter 5

The stale taste of Leo still lingered in the back of my throat, a phantom reminder of the bathroom floor and the green light burning on my watch. Three down. My new target was Ryan. The mountain. The fucking immovable object. His room was a sanctuary of cool indifference – minimalist, almost sterile, dominated by a king-sized bed swathed in crisp, dark grey sheets that looked like they’d kn...

My Roommate Reads My Stories - Part 4

I had started noticing details—little things about Harry that no one else would ever pay attention to. The exact way he ran his fingers through his hair in the morning, the faint ridge of his collarbone under his T-shirt, the little hum he made when he brewed coffee. I didn’t just watch him anymore—I catalogued him. Every gesture, every breath, every twitch of skin was fuel.

That af...

Sabotaging No Nut November - Chapter 4

The stale, comforting scent of microwaved pizza and dust hit me as I nudged Tyler’s door open. No lock, typical Ty. Inside, it was a cave illuminated by the flickering blues and reds of his massive gaming monitor and the soft, warm glow of a cheap desk lamp. The air hummed with the frantic click-clack of his mechanical keyboard and the muffled explosions from his oversized headphones. Posters...

My Roommate Reads My Stories - Part 3

It started innocently enough—or so I told myself.

Harry’s comments weren’t just casual praise; they were directions, subtle guides, breadcrumbs into his desires. Every time he typed something, my mind raced with possibilities. Each “I came so hard” was fuel, each “I love how you describe the tension” was a nudge to push further, to tease more, to dive deeper into what he lik...

Sabotaging No Nut November - Chapter 3

The play-fighting stopped. Instantly. We froze, chests heaving, water streaming over us. His eyes locked onto mine, wide, pupils blown dark with shock and something else. Something dangerous. The air crackled. I could smell his soap, his sweat, the raw, musky scent of his arousal cutting through the steam. My own cock stirred, trapped against his thigh.

"Fuck," he breathed, the word ragge...

My Roommate Reads My Stories - Part 2

I couldn’t breathe. My laptop sat open on the desk, the notification ping still echoing in my head. I had to check it. I clicked on the new subscriber list and scrolled.

And there it was.

A familiar email. My roommate’s. Harry.

I froze, hand hovering over the mouse, heart hammering like I’d just sprinted a mile. He was reading my stories. My stories about him. T...

Sabotaging No Nut November - Chapter 2

The metallic tang of iron and stale sweat hit me the second I pushed open the gym doors. Perfect. My kind of hellhole. Mason was already there, predictably, under the harsh fluorescents, grunting like a wounded bull as he slammed weights onto the bench press. His back muscles rippled beneath a sheen of sweat, the tank top clinging to every ridge and valley. Fucking Adonis complex, this guy.

My Roommate Reads My Erotic Stories!

I’ve always loved words, the way they can bend reality and make something small feel monumental. Writing erotic stories under my pseudonym was my perfect outlet—anonymity gave me the freedom to indulge in fantasies that I’d never dare say out loud. I gained a modest following, just enough to feel validation, to know that somewhere out there people were reading my dirty little creations an...

Making My Friends Lose No Nut November

My dick’s got its own fucking schedule. Seriously. Like, before coffee, before I even remember my own damn name some mornings, my hand’s already migrating south, seeking that familiar heat. It’s pathetic. It’s glorious. It’s a goddamn biological imperative.

Me and my group of friends made a bet: everyone who survives No Nut November will get $500 from each one. Seemed easy, just...

The Halloween Party - Finale

I hadn’t expected it. Not really. I was rummaging through Brody’s drawer — for laundry, or maybe just out of nervous habit — when my fingers brushed against the cold metal again. The mask. The same silver mask that had started it all.

My pulse quickened, cock twitching despite myself. Memories flooded back — the dark room, the bathroom, the way Brody’s lips had felt against me...

The Halloween Party - Part 8

The room was quiet, the kind of quiet that made every little sound — a sigh, a shift of weight, the brush of fabric against skin — feel amplified. Brody was sitting on my bed, knees drawn up, hands clasped together. He looked… vulnerable.

I swallowed. My chest was tight. “You… you wanted to talk?”

He nodded slowly, eyes not meeting mine. “Yeah. I can’t… I can’t k...

The Halloween Party - Part 7

I thought seeing a girl would fix it.

Her name was Jenna — blond, cute, a little flirty, and completely oblivious to the fact that my thoughts weren’t really on her. I told myself it was proof: I’m not into guys. Just curious. That’s all. I leaned into her laugh, held her hand, even kissed her lightly on the lips, trying to convince myself this was normal.

Meanwhile...

The Halloween Party - Part 6

I didn’t sleep that night. Or maybe I slept in short, fitful bursts, waking every few minutes to the memory of Brody’s hands, Brody’s cock, the way he’d moaned my name. My chest ached, my cock throbbed even under the covers, and the idea of him out there somewhere, pretending nothing happened, was maddening.

By the time I got back to our dorm, the adrenaline had faded into a restl...

Halloween Party - Part 5

The bathroom was a world of its own — hot, cramped, the faint drip of the faucet keeping rhythm with the pounding of my heart. My hands gripped the edge of the sink, knuckles white, chest heaving. He pressed into me again, hips rocking, cock hard and unforgiving against mine.

“You’re mine,” he whispered through the mask, voice low, almost teasing. “Feel that?”

I moaned, ...

Halloween Party - Part 4

The music had shifted again when I stumbled back into the main room, my throat raw, my legs unsteady. I needed air, a drink, something to shake the weight of what had just happened. Instead, I nearly choked on my own breath when I spotted Marcus and Ryan waving me over from the couch.

“There he is!” Marcus grinned, eyes gleaming with that mix of booze and mischief. “Our boy’s been...

Halloween Party - Part 3

The door clicked shut behind us, the noise of the party muffled into a low thump through the walls. The only light came from the thin gap under the door, just enough to outline the stranger’s frame in the dark.

Before I could think, before I could ask again who the fuck he was, he pushed me back against the wall. My head thudded softly, my breath catching. The silver mask gleamed faintl...

Halloween Party - Part 2

The hallway was darker than the main room, quieter too, just the muffled thump of bass bleeding through the walls. I hadn’t even caught up to him before the silver mask appeared right in front of me again, sudden and sharp, like he’d been waiting.

I stopped short, my back hitting the wall.

He was taller up close, chest brushing mine as he leaned in, silent, blocking me in. His g...

The Halloween Party

I almost didn’t go out that night.

Ryan and Marcus wouldn’t shut up about this huge Halloween party all week, and by Friday I gave in. We threw together the lamest group costume ever — the Three Musketeers — cheap Amazon tunics, hats that barely stayed on, and fake swords that slapped against our thighs every step.

Brody, my roommate, stayed behind. No surpr...

The Broken Arm Favor - Finale

By the time I got to Troye’s room that night, the air felt electric. We’d already crossed every line, burned every excuse—but somehow the tension was thicker than ever. My cock was straining before we even touched, slick from the last edging session we’d sneaked in during the afternoon.

Troye was waiting, sprawled on his bed, sweatpants low, chest bare, his arm still glistening fr...

The Broken Arm Favor - Chapter 10

When the doctor sawed the cast off Troye’s arm, I thought I’d feel relief. Instead, I felt my stomach sink.

It was like the countdown clock had hit zero. No more excuse for why he needed me. No more reason for my hands to be wrapped around his cock every night. No more reason for me to sneak down his body and swallow him whole.

Maybe no more us.

He flexed his wris...

The Broken Arm Favor - Chapter 9

I’d been dragging it out for almost an hour. My hand worked Troye’s cock in slow, merciless strokes, watching the way his chest heaved, his thighs tensed, his head rolled back into the pillow like he couldn’t take it anymore. Precum dripped constantly from his tip, slicking my fist, shining in the low light.

I loved it. I loved how I owned him like this, how every twitch of my wrist...

Mirror Ritual - Finale

The morning after, I thought maybe I’d lost my mind.

I woke sticky, sore, my sheets crusted with sweat and cum. My ass ached, my throat was raw, and when I turned to the mirror, all I saw was me. Just me. No smirk, no lag, no reflection out of step. The crack across the glass was gone. Smooth again, like nothing had happened.

For hours I sat there, staring, waiting for him to come...

The Broken Arm Favor - Chapter 8

I don’t even open Pornhub anymore. It’s pathetic, but it’s true. The tabs are still there on my laptop, thumbnails frozen mid-moan, but I don’t click them. I don’t even jerk off when I’m alone.

Because now, nothing feels right unless it’s him. Unless my hand is wrapped around Troye’s cock. Unless I’m watching his face twist up and hearing his breath go ragged.

It�...

The Broken Arm Favor - Chapter 7

That morning started like any other. I was half-asleep, making scrambled eggs at the stove, when the pan sizzled too hot and I slipped. The spatula clattered, and I hissed as my palm brushed the edge of the pan.

“Fuck!” I yanked my hand back. A faint red mark bloomed across my skin, a dull sting that made me grit my teeth.

It wasn’t much, nothing serious—but later, when Troy...

Mirror Ritual - Part 3

He was real.

That was the first thought that slammed through me as my reflection stepped out of the mirror and onto the floor of my bedroom, still on his knees, still swallowing my cock like it belonged to him. Heat. Weight. Breath. His hands digging into my thighs weren’t phantom anymore — they were solid, bruising.

I stared down at him — at me — and my stomach twisted with...

The Broken Arm Favor - Chapter 6

By now, it was automatic. The second I got to Troye’s place, I’d sit on the edge of his bed, he’d pull his shorts down, and I’d wrap my fist around his cock. Like clockwork. Like some secret routine we couldn’t quit.

I slicked my palm with lube and started stroking him, slow at first, then finding the rhythm he liked. His head tipped back, eyes half-shut, lips parting in those l...

The Broken Arm Favor - Chapter 5

By now, I was used to it. Every night, my hand was wrapped around Troye’s cock like it was just part of the routine. I didn’t even question it anymore—he’d call me over, or I’d crash at his place, and sooner or later his shorts would be around his thighs and my fist would be pumping him until he shot all over himself.

But tonight, he wanted to “spice it up.”

He grinned...

The Mirror Ritual - Part 2

I should’ve stopped. Any sane person would’ve stopped the second they realized their reflection wasn’t theirs anymore. But I wasn’t sane in that moment. I was hard, leaking, trembling with this fucked-up cocktail of fear and lust.

I lifted my hand slowly, watching to see if the mirror copied me. It didn’t. My fingers stayed still in the glass, still wrapped tight around my cock,...

The Broken Arm Favor - Chapter 4

It stopped being a one-time favor weeks ago.

At first, it was every few days—Troye would call me over when he couldn’t handle it anymore, and I’d leave his house with shaky hands and a cock so hard I thought I’d rip through my jeans. But soon, it wasn’t just him who needed it. My body started to anticipate it, like clockwork. By the time evening rolled around, I was already half...