Freed, page 1
FREED
STRAIGHT TO GAY MM ROMANCE
By
Lisa jones
Copyright © 2019 by Lisa Jones
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
CONTENTS
Chapter One – Dylan
Chapter Two – Wesley
Chapter Three – Dylan
Chapter Four – Wesley
Chapter Five – Dylan
Chapter Six – Wesley
Chapter Seven – Dylan
Chapter Eight – Wesley
Chapter Nine – Dylan
Chapter Ten – Wesley
Chapter Eleven – Dylan
Chapter Twelve – Wesley
Chapter Thirteen – Dylan
Chapter Fourteen – Wesley
Chapter Fifteen – Dylan
Chapter Sixteen – Wesley
Chapter Seventeen – Dylan
Chapter Eighteen – Dylan
Epilogue – 18 months later…
Chapter One
Dylan
The music is thumping hard, everybody is screaming over it – and each other – to be heard, the drinks are flowing, and the place is packed wall to wall with bodies grinding and gyrating against one another. The frenetic energy in the air is as thick as the cloud of pot smoke hanging over the crowd. There are so many people crammed into the house, it’s making it uncomfortably warm and I just want to get out of here.
I push my way through the masses, trying to find a less crowded spot but the crush of bodies makes it tough to navigate. I pass the kitchen where a couple of my frat brothers are doing dueling beer bongs with a crowd around them, wildly cheering them on.
The frat house has turned into a madhouse for the night – which usually happens on days we win a big game. Most of us in the frat house are on the school’s lacrosse team and we scored a big early season win over a nationally ranked Duke team earlier today – hence, the out of control celebration. Most of the coaches and team think that was us planting our flag and putting everybody on notice that we are a force to be reckoned with this year.
I carry my cup out to the backyard and take a long, deep breath of fresh air. It’s still crowded out here but the cool Fall temperatures are keeping most of the people indoors, thankfully. The only people jammed together on the small, covered patio are the dedicated smokers who, despite the on and off again rain, huddle together and suck down their cancer sticks.
I plop down on one of the ratty chaise lounges and close my eyes as I lean back, letting out a long breath as I relax. My head is fuzzy and I have that floating feeling I get when I’ve had too much to drink – I’m not quite drunk, but I’m not exactly sober either. I feel like I’m just existing in this weightless, in-between, hazy, not really real dimension – which, if I were sober and cared enough to think about it, would probably be some fucked up metaphor for my life.
But I’m not and I don’t, so fuck it.
“There you are.”
I open an eye and see Mandy standing there staring down at me with her hands on her shapely hips. Her long blonde hair stirs in the cool breeze and she shivers. Mandy is the stereotypical sorority girl – gorgeous by any measure, a little bit conceited, and a whole lot entitled. She wanted what she wanted, when she wanted it and would raise hell if she didn’t get it. Mandy thought the world revolved around her and nobody – not even me, I guess – ever disabused her of that notion.
“I’ve been looking for you everywhere,” she purrs.
I shrug. “Looks like you found me.”
She smiles and makes me scoot over then perches on the edge of the lounge, holding my gaze and flashing me a seductive smile.
“I’ve been trying to find you to give you your postgame blowjob,” she grins.
I chuckle. “You usually only give me blowjobs when we lose to make me feel better.”
She trails the tips of her fingers down my chest and chews on her bottom lip, her eyes smoldering with desire. Mandy gets like this when she’s high – all she wants to do is fuck. Most of the time I go along with it, just to keep her happy and avoid a fight, but there are other times when I’m just not really into it. Like tonight. Tonight, I just want to get blissfully drunk, stoned as shit, and to be left the fuck alone.
Mandy grabs my hand and stands up, trying to pull me to my feet. I sigh and stand up and then let her lead me through the crush of bodies inside and upstairs to my room. As one of the members of our frat’s leadership council, I have a solo room, which I’m thankful for. There are times when I just want to be alone and not have to deal with a roommate like some of the younger guys and can shut the world out. That was the biggest reason I joined the leadership council, to begin with.
Mandy locks the door behind us and then throws herself against me. She forces her tongue into my mouth and starts to push me back toward the bed. The backs of my knees catch the bed and I go toppling down, Mandy’s tight, firm body on top of me. Our breathing grows harder, our kiss more frantic as she straddles me, grinding herself against my cock. She sits up and quickly strips her shirt off, flinging it across the room with a salacious smile on her lips.
She grabs my hands and puts them on her tits, grinding against me even harder. She slips a hand under her skirt and into her panties, moaning softly as she touches herself. A moment later, she pulls her fingers, slick with her juices, out of her panties and slides them into my mouth. I lick her fingers but without much enthusiasm.
“Are you okay, baby?” she asks.
“I’m fine,” I tell her. “I’m just tired and drunk – I’m not really feeling it right now.”
She lowers herself and presses her lips to mine, still grinding away on my lap but no matter how hard she writhes on me, she’s getting no reaction. I am simply not into this – or maybe it’s just her – but I can’t get it up. I am having zero physical response. It’s happened a few times before she can usually manage to get me hard with some work. I’m just so detached from everything tonight, I don’t think any amount of sucking or stroking is going to help me tonight.
I roll her off me and get to my feet. “Sorry babe,” I tell her. “I’m just not into it right now.”
A scowl on her face, Mandy gets up and quickly smooths her skirt out. She grabs her shirt off the floor and puts it on, her every movement conveying just how annoyed she is. When she’s dressed again, she turns to me, her face dark with anger.
“What’s your problem, Dylan?”
“Nothing. I’m just not into it tonight,” I stammer. “What’s the big deal?”
The frown on her face deepens as she stares at me. Mandy has a temper like lightning – and is often just as destructive. She doesn’t like it when she hears the word no or doesn’t get her way. She’s kind of self-centered that way.
“The big deal is I want you to fuck me, Dylan,” she snaps. “I want to have sex. With you. Right now.”
“Baby, I’m not in the mood –”
“You’re not in the mood more often than you are,” she practically yells. “What the fuck, Dylan? Don’t you think I’m hot?”
She looks at me with an expression that’s partly outrage, partly sadness and I have a sudden and overwhelming sense of pity for her. It hits me then that Mandy’s self-esteem rests on how other people view her – on whether they think she’s hot or not. Her entire self-worth is wrapped up in what other people think of her and I can’t think of anything sadder than that. It’s also a major turn off – one I never noticed about her before.
Maybe it’s because I don’t really care about Mandy or something. I certainly didn’t care enough to delve into my deeper thoughts about her. I don’t know. All I know is that when I try to summon up any sort of emotion for her, there’s just nothing there. Well, nothing except pity now – pity with the distinct flavor of disgust.
I honestly don’t know why I’m going out with her. I really don’t – except for the fact that it keeps my buddies from trying to set me up with every other piece of ass on campus. But we’ve got nothing in common and truth be told, I don’t really like her that much as a person.
“It has nothing to do with you, Mandy.”
“It obviously does since you don’t feel like fucking me,” she spits. “Again.”
I feel the heat flare in my face as my anger begins to rise. That she is making this all about her – again – thought not surprising, or even unexpected is pissing me off more than usual today.
“Is it me, Dylan? Be honest,” she asks, her face red and her eyes watery with tears. “Do you just not find me attractive?”
“I told you, it’s not that,” I growl. “It has nothing to do with you, Mandy. Not one fucking thing.”
“Then what is it?” she sobs. “Are you like gay or something?”
I’m on my feet and across the room before I even realize I’m in motion. I have her pinned against the wall with my hand around her throat, squeezing it tight. My head is pounding as the rage flows through my veins and it’s not until I see her face turning purple and her eyes bulging wide, then hear the sound of her wheezing and choking that I realize what I’m doing. I let go of her throat but keep her pinned to the wall.
“Shut your mouth,” I hiss as I lean close to her face. “Just shut your fucking mouth with that bullshit.”
She coughs and sputters, her eyes are still wide and full of fear as she lo
“Look, the truth is, you’re not that great in bed, Mandy,” I tell her, my voice low with anger. “And I’m just not into it right now. I’ll call you when I’m in the mood for a mediocre fuck, okay?
“You son of a bitch,” she spits. “You fucking asshole.”
“Yeah well, I’m not gay, so don’t even think about saying that stupid shit to anybody.”
We stand there face to face for a moment, our faces so close, the tips of our noses are almost touching. There is genuine fear in her eyes as she looks at me and her lower lips are trembling.
“I – I won’t tell anybody,” she stammers. “I swear, Dylan.”
“There’s nothing to tell,” I growl. “I just don’t want to fuck you. That doesn’t make me gay.”
“Fine,” she whimpers. “That’s fine.”
“You need to go,” I grunt. “Now.”
“Okay baby, sure,” she whispers. “I’ll give you some space. I’m sorry. I’m sorry for all of this and –”
“Get out,” I shout. “Now!”
Mandy squeaks as she pushes past me and darts out of the room. I follow close behind her, pounding down the stairs, keeping her moving to the front doors just to make sure she doesn’t stop to spout that fucking nonsense to anybody. I’m not gay and I’m going to blow a fucking gasket if she starts that goddamn rumor. I swear to God, there will be hell to pay if she spreads lies about me.
I slam the front door behind her and turn around to find most of the people in the front part of the house looking at us. The music is still pumping but all conversation has stopped as all eyes fall on me. One of my teammates and frat brothers, Jake, walks over to me, a wide grin on his face.
“Dude, what was that all about?” he asks. “She was cryin’ and shit. You dump her or something?”
I take a deep breath and let it out. The only way to beat her bullshit rumor is to get out in front of it and discredit her before it has a chance to take root. It’s not because I’m afraid people are going to believe I’m gay – I just don’t want to have to answer the same question over and over again. And the best way to avoid that is to shift the focus to her where, in my opinion, it belongs anyway.
“Yeah, I found out she’s been fucking somebody else,” I announce. “Should have known. That bitch has fucked half the school.”
That’s met with a chorus of boos, sneers, and jeers. Give that my frat and my teammates are probably the most popular people on campus, Mandy’s going to have a tough time making friends anymore. People typically fall in line with whatever we say or do, which means if Mandy is on the outs with us, she’s on the outs with everybody. In the back of my head, I know I should feel bad but I can’t bring myself to care. If I wasn’t convinced she’d try to start such a bullshit rumor just because I didn’t want to fuck her, I wouldn’t have had to take a preemptive shot at her.
“Bro, I’m sorry,” Jake says as sympathetically as he can – he’s never liked Mandy very much.
Jake puts his arm around my shoulders and steers me away from the door. He signals to somebody and a second later, a cup of booze is thrust into my hand and before I know it, there’s a brunette on my arm. I recognize her as a freshman, a girl who hangs around some of the jocks and popular fraternities, trying to make a name for herself – though I don’t think that name is going to be the one she wants.
“Dylan, this is Phoebe,” Jake introduces us. “Phoebe, my good friend Dylan has had a rough night. Make him smile again.”
“Gladly,” she purrs as she looks up at me with wide, doe eyes.
She takes my hand and much like Mandy had just a little while ago, she leads me upstairs but then pauses when we get to the landing, unsure where to go. I lead her to my room and let her go in ahead of me. I close the door and lock it, letting my eyes slide up and down her tight little body. She’s got full breasts, a tight ass, and the girl next door good looks guys covet.
“So, what do you wanna do?” she coos. “What’s going to put a smile back on your face?”
Mandy’s ridiculous assertion echoes through my head and I feel my rage rising again as I look at the girl standing before me. She’s trying to play it cool like she’s well experienced and casual about sex, but I can see in her eyes that she’s nervous. Her uncertainty betrays her lack of actual sexual experience but her willingness to do what’s asked of her shows me that she’ll do whatever it takes to fit in with the crowd. Which is kind of sad.
She steps forward and runs her finger down my chest as she looks up at me, the soft pink tip of her tongue poking out from between her lips. I try to push my anger down and focus on the beauty of the girl standing in front of me. My mood – and what Mandy said – isn’t her fault. She didn’t set the ball in motion – she’s just unfortunate enough to be standing in the way when the ball came rolling through.
The anger still courses through my veins and I can’t seem to shake it. Mandy’s voice echoes through my mind, which ratchets my anger up even higher. I’m moving before I can even think about it and grab Phoebe by the shoulders. Our teeth click together when I press my mouth to hers, forcing my tongue against hers like Mandy had done to me earlier. I pull back, my head pounding, and I’m gritting my teeth in anger so hard, I’m half-afraid I’m going to shatter them.
Phoebe squeaks, a nervous giggle escaping her as I walk her backward, then spin her around. I force her down over the desk roughly and push her skirt up around her waist. It feels like I have something to prove – like I need to somehow show Mandy that I’m not what she accused me of. That I am, in fact, a straight man with a healthy sex drive and that the problem with me getting it up really was her.
“Dylan, you’re hurting me,” Phoebe gasps.
With my hand in the middle of her back, I push down harder, holding her in place as I use my other hand to quickly unbutton my jeans. She squirms and writhes beneath me and I feel my cock getting stiff. In one swift motion, I yank her panties down and plunge my cock deep into her wetness, burying myself to the hilt as she cries out.
And as I thrust away inside of her, pounding my rigid staff into her again and again, the sensations searing every nerve ending in my body, Mandy’s voice gets softer and softer until it fades out completely. Soon enough, the only sounds are Phoebe’s moans and the slap-slap-slap of our bodies crashing together.
Being inside of her feels good. It feels right. Natural – because I’m perfectly straight.
Chapter Two
Wesley
I’m seated at a small desk to the right of the podium grading today’s quizzes as Professor Maybin continues her lesson. I look up and casually sweep the lecture hall with my eyes, stopping on Dylan Whitford and feel my insides turn a somersault – like they usually do when I look at him. It’s hard to not take notice of somebody as beautiful as he is.
I first noticed him in a Renaissance Literature class I was a professor’s assistant in a couple of semesters ago. This semester is Literature of the Industrial Age and I was surprised to see him on the class roster. This isn’t a light, fun class meant for people who are majoring in business like Dylan is. This is a deep, substantive class intended for English majors. Which makes me curious about what his goals actually are.
Dylan is a beautiful boy, standing just over six feet tall with broad shoulders, sandy blonde hair that hangs to his shoulders and green eyes that sparkle like polished jade. His body is lean but solid. He’s fit and toned with the sort of hard, athletic body that looks like it was carved from marble.
The man never wants a company – there seems to be an endless string of sorority girls, cheerleaders, and other assorted bimbos in his orbit. But he never stays with one for long and from what I’ve seen, he never looks all that engaged with whoever the flavor of the day is. I’ve watched him with some of his bimbos on parade and to me, it looks like he’s just going through the motions with them. Like he’s not really into it.
