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Chub Trade: The Drunk Linebacker at the Party

Gavin Rockhard

Copyright 2018

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All characters depicted in sexual situations in this publication are eighteen years of age or older.

These stories are about fictional consenting adults engaging in taboo and controversial sexual acts. Nobody involved in the creation of this ebook, including authors, editors and models, support immoral or illegal acts in real life. Cover models are not intended to illustrate specific people and the content does not refer to models' actual acts, identity, history, beliefs or behavior. No characters depicted in this ebook are intended to represent real people.

Brian felt a little out of place at the party because he was older than most anyone else here, but it wasn't too obvious. He didn't look that old, and he was flamboyantly gay, so he came across as non-threatening and the kind of party animal who would continue coming to college parties.

That was true. He was precisely that kind of party animal.

But this party was dying. Most of the girls had either gone home or passed out drunk upstairs. There were just a few skanky broads left, waiting for guys to get desperate enough to come onto them. It was a simple fact of college life that parties relied on straight women -- without them, the straight men left, and that was enough to kill almost any party's momentum. So Brian, despite being gay, was stuck wishing there were more straight chicks here.

They were all off fucking the hot straight guys though, Brian thought, or sleeping with their creative writing professors. He scowled as he searched the house for something to do. Or maybe, he thought, he should just go home.

Brian hadn't seen any straight men who suited his fancy. That was what Brian did -- rough trade. He loved servicing alpha male straight men, and he didn't mind paying them for the privilege. There was a catch though: Brian liked his men thick, round and as chunky as possible.

Brian liked fat straight alpha males and he was determined to find one tonight. He had been horny all day, but he'd had poor luck lately, and hadn't found a chubby slice of rough trade in weeks.

This college party had been a bunch of skinny bozos, he thought. It looked like a Nickelodeon show had exploded, with perky young bodies and skinny arms everywhere, haircuts more complex than any straight man had a right to. College boys, Brian thought, were unsexy pansies these days. What happened to the days when college boys lifted weights and grew their hair long? That was nice.

He went out back, thinking maybe someone was at least smoking weed (there was usually someone smoking weed in the backyard at every house party around here). That would make tonight a little more bearable. He saw the remains of a blunt in an ash-tray, which sat on a patio table surrounded by chairs.

And there in one of the chairs was a man whom Brian had never seen before. He was Patrick Tirian, and he was a linebacker on the college football team. He was a thick man with a protruding belly and shoulder fat sliding over the edge of the plastic lawn chair he was sprawled out on.

"Hmmmm... hello..."

He was shirtless, that powerful chest gleaming with sweat, and he wore loose-fitting workout shorts. He looked to be asleep, with drool even slipping out past his lips. He was obviously drunk, and he reeked of whiskey, which he appeared to have spilled over his chest and shorts.

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