Cameron's life was going great, or at least about as good as apple pie. Wholesome, if not quite the holiest member of the time, Cameron was focused on his future. An honour student, he'd also excelled baseball all through high school and college, finding his fit on the team as a catcher.
His family taught him to be always proud of his heritage, which was simultaneously Greek, Italian and Scottish. From an early age, they had taught him to always give it his all, whether in school or in sports.
Being from Alexandria, Virginia, he strived to set a good example and keep it classy. The world couldn't have been set up for him any better, and he already had his eye on a number of 'the ladies', as he and the team called them, looking forward to a potential marriage and eventual fatherhood.
Then his roommate Brock... well, Brock just had to go and leave his Gatorade out on the kitchen table.
It was just one bottle of Gatorade, a lone bottle. The flavour was Frost Glacier Cherry.
How was Cameron to know that the bottle was shot through with the thin white rope of a southern warlock's cum? Brock didn't know, either, and didn't even have any awareness that his own casual queerbaiting was even a serious social problem.
Brock was fine with queer guys, but often felt cocky and 'alpha' enough to lead them on for his own amusement. Unbeknownst to him, his wink and mischievous smile had caused the stranger to make his own wink in the universe, a wink that instantly laced the sports drink with his semen.
You could hardly blame either Brock or Cameron for not knowing magick existed in the world. Gulping down Brock's Gatorade, Cameron hadn't even lost his own cherry yet, nor had he been planning on it. To him, it was just a bottle of Gatorade. Oblivious to the finer nuances of sensation that afternoon, he didn't even notice that it smelled a bit funny.
It was rude of Cameron to gulp down Brock's Gatorade, but the two had 'borrowed' each other's drinks and food before. Both figured roommates did that all the time, so they lived their lives accordingly.
Cameron, nevertheless, was raised to behave like a gentleman, so there was not even so much as a belch out of him as he steadily drained the whole bottle.
He had no clue that the thin white rope laced within it was already going to work deep within his guts, nor did he understand what was going on when, a mere fifteen minutes later, he started feeling like he was running a fever.
Peeling his shirt off, going to the mirror and feeling his forehead, Cameron had no idea what had gotten inside him or what was about to happen.
He didn't look sick, he thought. Just hot and flushed. He stripped off his grey sweatpants and decided to go to bed early with a tall glass of water. Lying there in his white briefs, looking down across his smooth chest, he flipped on a movie to fall asleep to. Something didn't feel quite right to him. He felt uneasy and unsettled, but with enough tossing and turning, he finally drifted off to sleep.
Sliding out of bed the next morning, Cameron went straight to the shower to get ready for the day. Shampooing up his head, he had no way of knowing that the curse had already kicked in.
His lip was dark with with the stubble of whiskers, and so was his jawline. He didn't even notice any of it until he started soaping up his pits, which he usually kept clean-shaven. His pits were full of stubble this morning. Dark stubble.
"What the hail..." he started to say, dropping the soap in surprise. He turned off the water and stepped out of the shower, lifting up his arms and going to the mirror. He was still covered with soap and shampoo when he saw how dark his upper lip and jawline looked. "No... he started to say, feeling dizzy.
"This is so messed up' he muttered. Was he imagining this? Did he just not realise he hadn't shaved in a while? Did this just happen to guys sometimes?
Cameron got out his razor and shaved his face clean, followed by his pits. Maybe it was just a fluke, he thought, as crazy as that sounded. He didn't know what else to do. It's just hair, he told himself. Just hair. Just... worry about it later, he tried to rationalise -- he couldn't show up to class late.
He was feeling better already when he headed out to face the day.
It was quite an uneventful day at class for him almost enough that he wondered if he had just imagined it all in the morning and freaked out for no reason at all.
In the mirror, he looked every bit himself that evening, he thought as he stripped down to his briefs before the mirror again. Maybe his stubble looked a little denser or darker or something, but it was maybe the result of rushing through shaving, he thought. Maybe he was just manning up more and hadn't realised it.
Looking at his smooth body and smooth pits, he felt like he must have imagined it. Before he drifted off to sleep, he had mostly chalked the whole thing up to a paranoid fluke.
The next morning, however -- well, he had to face another morning, only this time, the thin white rope had settled into him even more deeply. Stumbling into the bathroom, he had no idea that the curse had continued to unfold overnight. Nor could he yet tell that he was now sporting thick, dense stubble all over his face, thicker than before.
He had no idea until he flicked on the light switch before the mirror, anyhow.
"What the fuck!" he blurted out to his reflection with shock.
"What? You say something?" he heard Brock mutter through his bedroom door.
"Nothin'!" he answered back quickly. He could feel pulse racing and soon was flicking the lock on the bathroom door to make sure Brock couldn't come in.
His whole face was dusted with dark fur, even worse than it had been yesterday morning. Cameron quickly raised his arms and saw the fur had densely grown in again in his pits, too.
He could see whirls of hair even starting around his nipples. His pubes looked thicker. His legs, never very hairy to begin with, were somehow looking fuzzier to him.
"This can't be real," he thought, his mind racing. But it was real.
He was feeling the hair around his nips, fascinated by how his once-smooth chest had fuzzed out. There was just a small splash of fur below his navel, too, a little spot barely bigger than a thumbprint. He put his hand there to feel it, and could even feel the softness of the hair.
He had to shave it off, at least off of his face. He couldn't go out with all this fur on his face. Everyone would notice.
He lathered up, finding it harder than yesterday to get a clean shave. The stubble left behind was darker and denser than last time. Maybe he'd have to buy better razors. Was he getting more mature or something, and was that why his shadow seemed this dark? He'd usually been able to scrape off the stubble a lot faster than it was taking today. The whole thing felt surreal to him. He had to use a couple of razors and didn't even bother with his body, since there sure wasn't time for that before class.
Cameron was barely able to make it through the day, wanting to just retreat back to his apartment until he could get a grip on what was going on with him. He needed to decide what to do, but this was all so unbelievable that he didn't know. Trying to make it through the day felt like all he was capable of mustering right now.
At baseball practice, aside from his worry about how his body was seemingly rebelling on him, he was finding it hard not to observe the facial hair the other guys were sporting. Mostly, he was wondering how they compared to him and how normal or abnormal it was to have this all happening to himself. A bit of facial hair looked good on most of the guys on his team, he decided, at least in that it was giving them more of an adult look. It sure seemed like it made them look more mature than the babyfaced guys who kept a clean cut appearance.
He found himself absently considering how the other players looked all the way home. Maybe someday he'd want a mustache or a beard, sure, but certainly not now and definitely not against his will.
In bed at night, stripping down to his briefs, he couldn't help but check out his body to see if he looked any hairier. The fur around his nips and down by his naval looked so scraggly and the thick stubble in his pits seemed unseemly. What was happening to him? Why was his body getting so covered with hair all of a sudden? He resolved to shave it all again the next morning.
There were worse things that could be happening to him, right? At least that's what he tried to tell himself about it all in order to calm himself down.
Opening his eyes groggily the next day, he could immediately see, looking down his chest, that he was still sprouting fur.
There was fuzz lightly all over his pecs now, especially in the middle, just like he was getting the start of a hairy chest. His nipples were furrier than ever, with thick and coarser-looking whorls of hair. He knew they would probably be visible even in the showers to the other guys on the team. He now had a thin but solid-looking trail from his naval all the way to his pubes, too.
And his beard -- he had the start of a short beard. It was thick and full, fluffing out all over his face.
He had to just shave it off -- he never sported a beard -- this hair all over his body would draw so many comments. Sheesh, he thought, what was he going to do now?
Almost panicking, he yanked open his drawer to get his razors, which were still clogged with hair he hadn't cleaned out of them from yesterday. His remaining razors were thick enough with shaved hair that they probably needed to be thrown away.
He realised suddenly with even more anxiety and fear that he didn't have enough razors to take care of all of this. He probably didn't even have enough clean razors left to get rid of his beard. It just looked so damn thick this morning, like the stubble was somehow both thicker and denser than it ever had been for him before.
He yanked open Brock's drawer, but Brock's lone razor was clogged with leftover stubble, too. Using Brock's seemed like a gross idea, too, and he didn't want to go there.
Almost absently, he started to wonder how often Brock had to shave himself before his stubble looked too noticeable...
But there wasn't time to worry about that or Brock. Fuck.
He had to stay home. He couldn't go to class like this.
He bought a pack of razors and shaved his whole body clean that afternoon. Playing hooky and shaving himself -- even his legs -- he felt like a madman and almost wanted to cry about how crazy and humiliating the situation felt to him. He could see light fur even on his arms, so he shaved those, too. With a towel wrapped around him, smooth as a marble statue, at least he felt normal again.
At least he finally looked like himself again, though his five o'clock shadow looked manlier than ever -- he couldn't quite scrape it away. Why this dark density to his whiskers all of a sudden?
When he went to bed that night, looking down at his smooth body and thinking of how it had taken him almost an hour to shave it, he just hoped and hoped his thorough shaving, somehow, would be enough to shut down whatever was going on. He hoped that he could just wake up without all his hard work being undone.
The next morning it was back again. Hair was everywhere -- he had a short beard again, his chest was furrier than ever -- guys would definitely notice it -- and his lower legs were dark with fur. His arms had fur. His belly was hairy, his thighs even were dark with unruly hair... it was even on his toes, he noticed. None of it was unnatural, and he wasn't even one of the hairiest guys on the team, he thought, but this wasn't him! It hadn't been him!
He didn't know what to do. Staying in and avoiding people, at least for now until he figured this all out -- well, it seemed the only solution. First one day, and then the next... soon, Cameron was staying out of class every day for a week.
His mind felt odd, for when he wasn't checking out his own body, he was thinking of the guys on the team and their beards. When he went out to pick up some groceries, he found himself struck by the cashier's sideburns.
At least Brock was out of the picture most of the time, having a busy work schedule on top of classes, and Cameron was able to shave his beard off first thing every morning without Brock noticing -- even if the hair relentlessly came back time and again the next morning.
He just wanted to stay in and wish this all away, but at the same time he noticed, lying in bed watching tv and rubbing up against the cozy sheets of his bed, he wanted to check out the beards of the guys on tv. He wanted to almost... like, feel their beards, weird as it seemed.
He found himself even plumping up hard in his bed to thoughts of rubbing his finger's through some of his teammate's beards. It felt weird as hell. He tried to ignore his throbbing hard on, but even shifting in bed and the way he rubbed against his sheets seemed to turn him on.
It felt like he was going crazy, in a way, but he tried to ignore it all.
The mornings were relentless. More and more, he though about just not shaving his beard, or at least lightly trimming it, so that's what he started to do.
Maybe tomorrow morning, he thought, he'd wake up and this would all be over.
Cameron woke up the next morning with morning wood. He groaned. He didn't want to get out of bed... he wanted to get some release from his horniness. Instead, he forced himself out, and with his briefs tenting, headed straight to the bathroom.
As usual, he wanted to see how he looked, and the sight in the mirror had him feeling like more of a man than he ever had before. He was fuzzier with fur than ever. He felt almost delusional, standing there before his hairy self with his white briefs tenting.
He stuck a hand in his briefs to feel his warm, fuzzy nuts. Aww, that felt good.
Pulling back the waistband, he thought his nuts looked hairier than they ever had, too - long and scraggly with dark hair. He let the elastic snap back, gazing almost fascinated into the mirror again.
He stroked his short beard, which was a little longer than usual this morning, it seemed. That felt good. He just had to rub his cock while stroking his beard. He couldn't help it.
"Stop that," he told himself as he started to masturbate, wondering what the hell he was doing and why he seemed so horny over such weird, mannish things lately. But it was hard to stop... he found himself playing with his dick for a few minutes before finally popping it back inside his briefs.
He didn't usually masturbate in the mornings, especially not in the bathroom, and he was missing so much class. He had to get back in the swing of things.
He'd have to leave the beard, he decided. Why not go ahead and rock a short beard for the first time? It was just going to keep growing back on him anyway. At this point he'd been out of class long enough that nobody was going to notice, he hoped. He'd missed a week of practice, which was a huge no-go, though other guys did it too sometimes for illness or family vacations. He wasn't looking forward to explaining himself if anyone didn't buy his line about being sick.
He trimmed his beard down a bit with a scissors, trying his best to keep it classy. At least he'd soon have the weekend to figure it out again. Weekends were a relief.
He felt himself almost breaking out in a sweat at times during class, hoping nobody could notice that he had a light beard now and how fast it had grown in on him.
He found himself looking at the furry legs of the guy ahead of him, checking out the guy's sideburns... he was almost afraid to look, afraid somebody would notice the feelings he had going on inside him, but it was also really hard not to restrain from looking, not just because he wanted to compare but because he got a strange excitement from looking.
He returned to baseball practice after class that evening. Almost immediately, mostly due to nerves, he was wishing he were elsewhere.
"The beard looks good!" Cameron's teammate Travis said.
"Thanks man! Appreciate the compliment," Cameron shouted back, thinking that Travis's long, dark brown sideburns and scruffy chin looked good themselves, but inside Cameron was panicking. Could they tell? Did they have any clue how strange this felt for him, or how afraid he was that somebody would notice how thickly his beard was growing in? What if they noticed the fuzz that now dusted his arms?
During practice, despite his fear, he couldn't help but check out the guys with facial hair, wondering about how it felt for them to sport it, why they'd grown it, how they'd grown it... his mind was just racing so quickly with this stuff, and trying to slow it down sometimes made it run even faster. He didn't want to think of dude's 'staches and beards, truly.
It was a strange curiosity that was only intensifying. He told himself to just stop thinking about it, because it all was feeling so weird... but then there his eyes would wander right back towards the other guys almost on their own. It was getting to be so hard to not look, now. The guys on his team had such handsome hair on their faces, he thought. They had to be proud of it, or why else would they have it?
Derrick, the team pitcher, had such a nice mustache, he noticed.
He'd always thought so, he considered, since Derrick was a popular guy with a lot of people telling him he was attractive. But today in particular it was hard not to notice how his mustache was just the right shade of light ginger for his face, and the way it curled up at the tips... the way it was ginger but still so firm and thick... and how the rest of Derrick's stubble just seemed to be, well, such well done stubble, not very patchy and really masculine, and so it was almost alluring in a way, and...
"Cameron, what are you doing?" he heard the coach yell at him as Derrick's fastball smashed into his glove, and -- Cameron had been holding his glove too firmly, so it bounced right out of the pocket. The secret to being a good catcher was a soft hand, not being too wooden... but he had been overcompensating or something... that must have been it. Hadn't it?
"Sorry coach," Cameron said quietly, realising coach couldn't hear him a few seconds later. "Sorry!" Cameron said loudly now so his coach could hear, sweating bullets with embarrassment at the reverie over Derrick's ginger sideburns... over Derrick's mustache... that he had privately been in.
If he could just make it through practice, he'd be fine, he told himself. But it was hard to concentrate.
He pushed it out of his mind as best he could, but he found himself still stealing glances at his teammates out of the corner of his eye when he could, and when practice was over and it was time to shower up, he found himself almost drinking in the sight of other guys. He couldn't believe he had never truly paid such attention before to how they soaked down their hair and beards, the colours darkening with the water. He felt weird that he was fascinated by it all of a sudden. At the same time, he didn't want to ignore these feelings. Even the blond guys... their hair got so dark from the water. How hadn't he noticed that so strongly before?
By the time he crawled into bed that evening, noticing again how hairy his own chest and legs had gotten as he pulled the sheets over him -- well, the thoughts were back. His dick was springing up hard, which felt perverted as hell. He tried not to touch it at least.
He wished he could compare the hair above his upper lip with Derrick's. If he were closer friends with Derrick and they could talk about it, that would be so awesome... even if he could touch it to see how his mustache felt compared to his own. He wondered how thick it was compared to his. He felt his own 'stache and realised he was hard in his briefs.
Cameron just wanted to get some sleep, he thought, but here he was, hard in his briefs, looking down at the fur on his chest. Good grief. He put a movie on tv, trying to focus on something else, but it was so hard to concentrate. He just wanted to... just wanted to see...
He pulled down the sheets on himself a bit and put his arms behind his head. The thick bushes that had grown in under his arms fluffed out thickly. He felt almost embarrassed at how hairy he'd let his pit fur get, but he knew if he shaved it it would just grow right back.
More than that, he felt a sort of pride in having furry pit bushes when he reflected back on how hairy his teammates had been in the shower today. He couldn't stop thinking about almost all of his baseball teammates with hair on their faces, and even some guys he'd seen on opposing teams. Just when he'd be pondering one guy, he'd think about the full, lush goatee another was sporting... or the thick beard that wrapped its way around the jawline of another guy...
He tried to tell himself to stop it, but there was no stopping the rush of thoughts. Knowing how much it was exciting him had them rushing through his mind in almost a stampede. So many hairy guys, so many different ways they were hairy or styled themselves, it was incredible, really. He felt lucky to be having such thoughts in a way. He felt ashamed to be perving out, but also excited... he had to stroke his cock. Aww, yeah... these guys' faces... from smooth to furry...
As Cameron stroked his cock in bed, mouth agape, looking down at his unbelievable hairy chest and how thick his pubes were, he couldn't help but think of how incredible it would be to feel Derrick's thick ginger mustache up against his cock. Even if Derrick were to do something wild and gay like lick his dick, that could be exciting... even really exciting...
Cameron was beating off now, rapidly, thinking of so many different guys on the teams getting their beards up against his dick and his fuzzy nuts... the beard hair meshing with his groin hair. What would it feel like? Cameron bet it would feel fucking incredible.
"This c'aint even be real, man," Cameron whispered to himself in almost a moan. His cock was twitching, wanting attention. He couldn't beat off to Derrick... "This cain't..."
It felt so crazy that he was even talking more like a southern guy lately, more rural, but at the same time it excited him and felt liberating. He started beating off even faster.
"Why do I want to go and talk like all y'all hunky redneck studs..." he said to himself, chortling, and it was all turning him on. It really was. It was scary and exciting at the same time. He didn't know why. It was like following a threat that led to... somewhere.... he wasn't sure where, like a rope that was leading him through a cave.
It was hard to describe, but more and more his thoughts were getting to be 'if it feels good, give it a try...' like he was tapping into a wild and free side of himself that nobody else knew about. He had to stop beating off. He just had to. He wasn't gonna cum to these thoughts of hairy dudes -- no way.
He flipped over onto his belly and put his hands under his pillow, trying not to rut his cock against the sheets. It took him five minutes, but finally the erection subsided and he was able to drift off to sleep, his mind racing about how to avoid further embarrassment... he had to control his cock.
And how hairy was he going to get? He saw again the next morning that his beard seemed lusher still. Fuck. How long would this go on?
It didn't look bad, he thought. It was just... he couldn't let people know this was happening. He definitely couldn't let them know about the strangely sexual thoughts he was having so often now.
It seemed like every day it was getting harder and harder for him to focus on class and on baseball, and easier and easier for him to wander off into fantasyland and think about how attractive other guys' beards were to him. Sideburns, moustaches, yes -- but more and more, the thicker and lusher a full beard was, the more he got that wild thrill and those strange horny feelings. It was exciting and embarrassing. He was really starting to like how it felt, and now mostly just hoped nobody could tell.
Every day he started off with his mirror time. Every night seemed to end up with jerking off in bed time. He was becoming a nightly addict to masturbation, sometimes having to get up and go to the bathroom, locking the door behind him, to beat off in front of the mirror to the sight of the incredible hair on his face, sometimes feelings his beard as he stroked. He wasn't about to let himself cum to these thoughts that felt so perverted, but to stroke... yeah, to stroke to thoughts of Scott's blonde goatee or Trevor's dark black and full beard... he was always imagining the combinations and how good those beards would feel pressed up against his own chest or even his cock and balls.
Maybe he was just going through an illicit, curious phase, he thought, even though leaking pre to dudes, as he'd started to do, sometimes shocked him and shamed him enough to back off.
Soon, though, he'd be rubbing his fat dick again, or putting bearded guys in porno on the tv to zone out to. Fuck it, it felt good to explore this stuff, and he couldn't help how he seemed to love it so much all of a sudden. He'd grown fine with edging for hours so long as he didn't cum.
He was thinking these thoughts whether or not he stroked, he decided... so might as well stroke, at least a little bit more... it was so intriguing to him, as if he was almost becoming something or someone else. He felt amped and full of curiousity.
Mostly, though, he couldn't stop his racing mind from wondering about the specifics of every other guy's beard, and how incredible it would feel to lock tongues and beards with so many of these guys.
Most of all, he thought about how incredible it would feel to have his favourite guys on the team -- and though he tried not to think of Derrick, he was pretty sure his favourite was Derrick , followed by Trevor. How it would feel to touch Derrick's 'stache or to have Trevor rub his full, dark against his chest? He could imagine Trevor sliding lower and lower with his beard, tracing his way down to his cock.
When he thought about Derrick fully naked, he'd inevitably start to leak pre. His hands would get sopping wet with it and he'd beat off faster and faster, pulling himself back from the verge of cumming at the last minute. It felt gay as fuck, but he hadn't cum yet, although he felt like he might as well do it since he'd clearly gone this far already. Yeah... just do it man... cum to that hot fuck's hot mustache... man, he's so fucking fine... soon he was shooting a load of cum all over his belly while thinking of Derrick. He pumped out cum all over his chest and hairy belly thinking of locking mouths with Derrick right up against his 'stache... It felt dirty and wrong but so hot and fulfilling... he was glad he'd done it just to see how it felt to get off that way. Coated with his own cum from beating off, he knew he'd have to do it again. Next time maybe he'd beat off thinking of Trevor, he thought. See how that feels in comparison...
As Cameron arose the next morning, he realised he'd slept in late. Real late. It was already past noon. His first stop, as so often, was going to be the mirror. He already knew that much. Standing up and standing up out of bed in just his briefs, he drained the glass of water beside the bed and headed into the bathroom.
His beard was still looking thicker and fuller than it ever had before, he noticed, which had him feeling good for sure, even high and full of energy.
Incredible, he thought, that he suddenly was looking so much like all those bearded guys he was so curious and excited about. He almost felt like a whole different dude compared to the clean-shaven guy he used to be. He flexed an arm for the mirror, smiling at the thatch of thick pit hair that leapt up in it along with his bicep. He looked good like this. Even with all the worries he had about it, he had to admit he was feeling good. Real good. It was hard to imagine he'd actually shaved all this off before. Right now he was feeling like he'd never want to shave anything ever again.
He was hairy all over -- his chest, his beard was really coming in full... his legs were so thickly hairy. It looked sexy to him. He felt sexy.
He wondered what Brock was up to. Maybe he should put his clothes on before going out into the living room, he thought absently, but he kinda just didn't want to.
Cameron decided to walk out to the living room in just his underwear.
"Dude, why are you in your underwear?" he heard Brock say from the couch. Brock was watching tv and had his feet up on the table.
"Fukkin' love this body, brotherman," Cameron said.
"Seriously, dude, put some clothes on," Brock said, almost with a sigh of frustration.
Cameron wasn't about to let Brock boss him around, he decided. He figured he'd play up how good he was feeling this morning, give his roommate a little southern attitude right back. Affecting an accent, Cameron found himself saying "why the hail would I want to do a fool ass thang like that?"
He grinned. "I'm feeling dayum sexy, brotherman. Hot dayum! Wooo-eeee!" Cameron suddenly continued, showingly, for some reason really feeling a desire to tease his roommate and play it up.
He ran a hand down his furry torso. He couldn't believe how good all this hair felt on his bod.
"Don't my beard look dayum hot to you, boy?" Cameron continued, winking at Brock and shaking his hips. "Huh buddy boy? Don't you just love my hairy chest? How'd I get so hairy, man?" Cameron said, rubbing his hands all over his torso, feeling almost lost in the sensation.
"I've never seen you look like that before, true," Brock answered. "You must have been shaving this whole time," Brock said, turning away so as not to encourage Cameron. This was getting weird quick.
"Nah, haven't been shaving, bud. I like it though," Cameron said. "Look at these bushes, Brocky boy!" he then suddenly announced, lifting up his arms and putting them behind his head, shaking his hips harder and sticking his tongue out at Brock. He winked at Brock again. Was this really him? Was he really doing this? Fuck it, it felt good... so why not?
"Hairy legs, hairy chest, hail yeah boy, I even got a hairy ass, brotherman," Cameron continued saying rapidly. Feeling a sudden impulse to really shock Brock, he decided to turn all the way around and, laughing to himself, suddenly yanked his briefs down his furry thighs, exposing his new hairy ass to Brock and mooning him.
"Whoa dude..." Brock started to say, his eyes wide, not able to believe what the hell was even happening. This wasn't like Cameron at all. This was crazy.
"Whoa nothin', Brocky boy! I'm a real man now! True Virginian! Look at this hair, man! Look at this cock!" Cameron said, excited by what he was saying, talking without even thinking and surprising himself.
Turning around again, his cock rapidly plumping up to a full erection, he wanted to shock Brock, tease him, anything to get a reaction.
"Aww hail yeah, look at that! Leakin' already! You want a taste?" Cameron took a finger to the tip of his dick and rubbed it around the precum-coated shroom head, lifting the drop of moisture up to his mouth and sticking his finger in.
"Dayum, sonny boy, Brocky boy, whoever you are to me -- you'll be whoever I want you to be -- anyways, I taste fine as fuck!"
"That's... disgusting!" Brock said, standing up to pick Cameron's clothes up from the floor. "You're getting dressed right now! I"m not putting up with this shit!" Brock demanded.
"I ain't gettin' dressed! You cain't tell me what to do. I love my fukkin' freederm, dammit! Freederm to be free in my own apartment at least! I like being buck ass nekkid! Nekkid man, ain't nothing like it!"
"Get dressed! NOW!" Brock practically roared at Cameron. Brock threw Cameron's pants and underwear at him, but they just hit Cameron's hairy torso and fell back down to the floor as Cameron totally ignored the toss.
"No fukkin way you're bossin' me around, you asshole!" Cameron roared back at Brock. He felt caged but loaded with energy, and almost spontaneously just to see what might happened, turned to run straight towards his roommate and half tackle, half body slam him down to the floor.
Before he even had a plan or truly knew what he was doing, Cameron was grabbing Brock's shorts by the waistband loops and pulling. They weren't coming down though. Brock's ass was too big or something... Cameron's mind was racing. He wanted to humiliate Brock, or at least show him who's boss. His pre...
"Yeah bud!" Cameron yelled to Brock as he pinned his arm to the ground, enjoying how good it felt to overpower his roomate.
With his other hand, Cameron was touching the wet tip of his dick. He was so hard and turned on, even though it felt crazy. Almost without thinking, he said "take a sniff of this, Brocky boy," and before he even though much about it, he was sticking his finger up right against Brock's nostrils and laughing.
Then he was shoving his finger in Brock's mouth as he grabbed Brock's chin with his other hand to try to throw him off guard, make him taste it, make him suck it -- something.
He felt like he was acting almost from some instinct or something, something deep down inside him. He wasn't really doing this, was he? It felt like one of the rudest, craziest things he'd ever done in his whole life, but he almost couldn't stop. He didn't think he even wanted to stop, come to think of it. This was crazy. This was exciting. This was...
"How you like the taste of that man juice, buddy?" Cameron heard himself say, moving his finger around inside Brock's lips and quickly taking his finger back out before Brock got any crazy ideas about biting him...
"Gross!" Brock said, trying to spit onto the carpet and soon sputtering up a few wads of spit.
Like it or not, the tiniest bit of Cameron's precum had already made its way onto Brock's tongue and was soon headed down his throat.
Brock, utterly unaware of what was about to happen to him if he swallowed what remained, reflexively gulped and swallowed.
Cameron soon stood up and let Brock go, laughing. "I don't know why I did that, man, but it was so fukkin funny!" he said. "Don't mess with a sexy ass man like me I guess," he said, flexing his arms hard in a double biceps.
Wrapping his left hand around his still-engorged cock, Cameron started feeling and stroking his beard with his right hand. Damn, he felt good. Why hadn't he ever done this before? It felt so right. It felt so... fucking... good. Damn.
"You're sick, man!" Brock was shouting at him. "Don't you ever do that to me again or you'll be finding yourself new roommate! It's seriously not even fucking funny, dude! Get the fuck out of here!" he said as Cameron just laughed at him.
"I fuckin' love being a man, buddy," Cameron said flatly, feeling like he'd pissed Brock off enough. Brock wasn't his type or something anyhow, he thought. "My type?" he thought to himself oddly. But it was true. Brock didn't have a beard or even a mustache.
He decide to turn around, showing Brock his ass again as he laughed and headed back to the bedroom.
For whatever reason he was thinking of bearded guys again.
Thick beards. He wanted to see if he could find some porn of some bearded guys to put on the tv and stroke off to. That'd be hot. He didn't know why he thought it would be hot, but he was glad he felt that way.
Soon he was lying back on his bed, giving into his feelings completely, feeling the bushes of fur in his pits with his own hands and and stroking his beard, all as his cock twitched against the wild curls of his newly hairy thighs.
"Fuck yeah!" he grunted to himself, jerking his cock to the two guys with hairy faces who were getting naked on his tv. It felt good. It felt right. Who the fuck even cared what was right or wrong right now when this just felt so good?
Cameron jerked off multiple times that night to the bearded porn stars on his tv -- he thought of them as gents, though maybe gents didn't get buck ass naked and play with other guys -- whatever, who cares, Cameron thought. It was hot, so he rode it out with the lights on low and the tv flickering before him, giving himself hours of pleasure as he languidly stroked his cock.
He couldn't believe how good it felt to be a man and how much thinking of hairy, bearded dudes was turning him on.
When he woke up the next morning, his beard was thicker than ever. It was hard to think clearly. He was still horny. His mind felt muddy but also plenty horny. Maybe he'd have to beat out another load to clear his horny mind, he thought with a sort of snicker to himself.
Cocks sure can be a lot of trouble, he thought. He loved his cock.
He decided to pull down his briefs and let his cock pop out, starting to stroke to the sight of his own reflection in the mirror.
Maybe he'd stay home today and put on more videos of guys with beards... he's miss practice but he was just so... fuckin'... horny.
Yeah, this felt too good. Cameron's nostrils flared as he flicked the tip of his hard cock. He let out a grunt and a hard guffaw over how fucking great it felt to stroke his beard and stroke his hard, hairy, manly cock. Fuck yeah, he thought. Fuukk yeah.
theartofmadeline
yousharknotpass
vaporwave
areudirty
annaxmalina
gummygunk
pixelskylines
