It was early morning, and my body was sore from last night. My legs wobbled, my ass ached, and every step hurt. I had lost my virginity to a cock as thick as a beer can.
I walked down the hallway into the bathroom. After relieving myself, I felt the urgent need to take a shit. But instead, a stream of cum trickled out, mixed with gurgles and farts. I felt My face flushed red with embarrassment. How could this be happening? I used a wet wipe and cleaned myself before quickly heading back to bed.
In my dream, I was greedily sucking down a thick, massive cock, struggling but determined to take it all. I could feel strong hands flipping me over, controlling every move. I was on my belly being rimmed, moaning as I pushed back, desperate to feel the warm, twisting tongue in my ass. Thick fingers pulled on my fat balls as the tongue thrust and twisted into my waiting hole. I spread my legs wide to give better access, and as I felt my dream guy release my balls, his hands wrapped tightly around my neck, holding me in place.
I moaned loudly, waking up to find my best friend, Michael, twisting his tongue in and out of my ass, “Get the hell off me!” I shoved Michael away, my heart pounding. “I’m not gay, Michael. I’m not... I’m not into this.”
Michael was grinning and wiping his mouth. He took a water bottle and took a long sip. I noticed my shorts were gone. My hard dick stood out as I moved to the edge of the bed, awkward and exposed.
“I never said you were a fag,” Michael emphasized, but there was a flicker of something in his eyes—doubt, maybe even fear. “But that dick doesn’t lie.” His voice wavered just a bit, as if he was trying to convince himself as much as me. “You pushing back to get all my tongue in that puffy hole says you’re lying.” As he said this, I couldn’t help but look down at his massive cock. It was easily 9 inches and as thick as a can of beer.
“I’m up here, Art,” he snapped, and I looked back at him. “The way you nutted last night, I thought you might want some more.” As Michael said this, I saw his cock bounce, and I looked down to see it again. “What the fuck are you doing, Art?” I yelled at myself.
“I was drunk and high last night, Michael. We were all drunk and high!” He looked away and then back at me. “Okay, tell you what—if what you’re saying is true, let’s put it to the test,” venom in his voice. “You’re saying you didn’t like it, that you were drunk.” He grabbed his dick and pumped it several times as his thick, veiny cock swelled, his balls swaying heavily. I was like a deer in headlights, my eyes fixed on it. “I’m up here, Art,” I heard him say.
Michael leaned in closer, his voice dropping to a low, menacing whisper. ‘Tomorrow night, we’re going to settle this. If you get hard, you’re going down on me. No excuses.’” His eyes locked onto mine, daring me to back out. “Unless,” he added, his smile widening into something almost predatory, “you’re afraid to find out the truth, Art.” The challenge was clear, but it was the implications beneath it that terrified me. Yet, I couldn’t back down—not now.
“Fuck you, Michael, you’re on. What time?”
“9:30 pm sound good to you?” Michael said as he moved his semi-hard cock to scratch his balls. I resisted and just looked him in the eyes.
“If you lose, you’re my slave for a week. You’ll wash and clean my room and this apartment, including Shawn’s room, for a week like any good housekeeper,” I said dismissively.
I knew he hated being talked down to, and coming from a humble working family, he could be crushed, but I wanted to hurt him.
“Fuck you, Arturo, but you’re on, asshole,” he said as he turned and walked away. His thick frame did not hide his strong ass; he was a walking fucking tank.
I spent the day away, keeping myself busy with chores, eating out, and studying at the library.
I got home Saturday night with a clear mind. I had planned to talk to Michael, and I had bought some comics and snacks as a peace offering. I was ready to just move on and put this behind us.
I walked into a dark apartment, with only a sliver of light coming from Michael’s bedroom. I was quiet as I walked past his door, only to stop in my tracks.
“Yes, Daddy, make me your bitch,” was the first thing I heard before the slapping sounds of two bodies colliding, the huffing, and groaning. The bed squeaked loudly.
I took a peek in to see Michael pounding the shit out of another guy. I watched as Michael plowed into him, his balls flopping and slapping as he thrust his tool into the guy who was in agonizing glory, still asking for more.
The voice was familiar, but I was lost in the power and the sheer size of Michael’s dick, plowing away, the poor guy’s ass closing and then opening wide to accept Michael’s tool.
"You love this, Mark. You love being my bitch, don’t you?" Michael said in ragged breaths as he focused on power-drilling this guy. “Yes, Daddy, I love it, open me wide!” he yelled as Michael began to fuck his ass harder.
“Mark?” I thought… From this point of view, I could see the poor guy on his belly, Michael on top, putting all his weight on him.
Then it hit me. “Mark?” Our life-drawing class model? Mark was a slender but chiseled, good-looking guy. “Mark had a girlfriend,” I thought to myself. “How the fuck?” He was a cool dude who loved being active, an all-around manly man.
I looked back in and could hear Mark reaching his orgasm. “I’m cumming!” Mark yelled. I noticed that the headboard on Michael’s bed had a mirror attached to it, and I watched as Michael pulled Mark’s head up, gripping and pulling on his hair.
“Yes! FUCK! FUCK MEEEEE!” Mark’s eyes closed as he licked his lips. Michael dropped his head down and brought Mark’s head back down with his before looking up directly into the mirror. He then winked while looking at me.
I panicked and rushed into my room, closing the door and keeping the lights off for a while. “What the hell are you doing, Art!” I thought to myself. He even saw me watching. I calmed down and convinced myself that Michael was winking at himself in congratulations for his conquest. Yeah, that’s what happened.
I sat there, realizing just how little I knew about Michael. The first fucking weekend I stayed behind, and I had already learned too much. Honestly, I wished I had gone home for the weekend, as I always did.
Michael fucked Mark for at least an hour longer before cumming, not even trying to hide his lustful grunts and moans as he filled Mark. I heard them settle in, only to be awakened at least two more times that night by Mark’s yelps and grunts. Mark got fucked at least five times that night.
Sunday came, and as I got up to go to the bathroom, I heard Mark talking to Michael. “I’m glad you have this place; now we can meet more often,” Mark said. “Can I come over tonight?” he asked. “I can tell Lisa I have a late-night modeling gig; she won’t mind. She hates going with me and watching the cougars flirt with me.”
“I can’t. I have plans tonight. I need to get my composition layouts ready, or Paul will flunk me,” Michael said softly. “Okay, next week maybe?”
Well, one thing was obvious: Mark was a total pussy that loved getting pounded, and Michael was more than happy to help him out.
I heard the door shut as Mark left. Then I heard the shower start.
I sat on my bed just thinking. We met Mark in our life-drawing class a year ago. Michael, Shawn, and I were struggling, and Mark offered to stay after class and pose for us in the open lab. Shawn and I had to leave two hours after, but Michael and Mark stayed behind. Fuck, I thought.
I walked out with my shower caddy. I decided I was just going to roll with it. I mean, I was in college. Who was I to judge horny college kids exploring their sexuality? I was not gay, and that was that.
Michael had left by the time I was in the shower. He really had a lot of work to catch up on. “I’ll clear this up when he gets back,” I thought.
It was 8:30 pm when Michael got back to the apartment. I had made my way to my favorite food truck and brought back enough food for both of us. He came in, and we started talking about class assignments while eating. “Good,” I thought. It was like nothing had happened. “We can move on and just forget all this shit.”
9:30 pm came around, and we were watching anime on the 75-inch television. Michael reached up, took the remote, and turned off the TV.
“You and I have unfinished business, as I recall,” Michael said, his voice firm.
“Michael, just drop it. I’m not one to judge, and much less stop you or anyone in art school from experimenting. I mean, we’re in art school—it’s practically a rite of passage.”
“Good,” he replied, his tone hardening. “I made a deal, and I don’t like it when people make me feel like shit.” He was angry, and rightfully so—I had gone low to hurt him. “Or,” he added mockingly, “you can just admit you’re a fucking fag, and that’ll be the end of it.”
I felt my manhood challenged—fuck. I wasn’t a fag. I looked him straight in the eyes, or rather, up at him, and said, “Hey, if you’re looking to have my flaccid cock in your mouth, just say it.”
Michael’s challenge hung in the air like a dark cloud, heavy with implications I didn’t want to face. My mouth was dry, my mind racing as I tried to think of a way out, some excuse to back down without losing face. But nothing came. Michael was watching me, his eyes boring into mine, daring me to say no.
“My room,” I finally managed to say, my voice sounding hollow in my ears. I tried to sound confident, but the tremor in my voice betrayed me. I saw a flicker of something in Michael’s eyes. There was no going back now.
I figured at the very least I’d make him do some hard labor for challenging me like this. He was about to be sorely disappointed.
'Where do you want me, bro?' I mocked. “On your back on the bed. Take off your shirt and socks, but leave the rest on,” he instructed.
I shrugged off my shirt, kicked off my shoes and socks, and laid down in the center of the bed. “Ten minutes—that’s all the time you’ve got,” I said confidently, fully expecting to win and teach this jerk a lesson.
Setting his watch to a timer and placing it on the counter, he positioned himself between my legs
“Ready?” he asked coldly.“Knock yourself out,” I replied, determined to stay in control.
He started massaging my legs, his hands moving slowly, deliberately. As he worked his way up to my stomach, his fingers brushed against my nipples, but I stayed motionless, staring blankly at the ceiling. Michael leaned down, his breath hot against the fabric of my pants. The anticipation was nearly suffocating me. I could feel his mouth hovering over my groin, teasingly close, before he finally pressed down. The sensation sent jolts of electricity through my body. I tried to stay still, tried to keep my breathing steady, but the pressure was relentless. His lips brushed against the outline of my cock, testing, probing for any sign of weakness. My heart raced as the minutes dragged on, each second feeling like an eternity. I fought to keep my face blank, my mind screaming at me to resist, but I could feel the tension building, the line between resistance and surrender growing thinner by the second.
He stood up and undid my belt, pulling my pants off in one swift motion. I was left in nothing but soft white briefs. Michael got to work again, using his hands to massage me. The paper-thin fabric of my briefs did little to hide my flaccid four-inch cock and bulge.
“Shit,” I heard him mutter in frustration. He paused, as if realizing something. Then, without a word, he took off his clothes and stood directly above me on the mattress. Even soft, his cock was thick, his broad belly and rolls on full display.
He had three minutes left on the timer.
He placed one knee near my head, his left leg still up, with only his foot on the mattress. He was kneeling in a position that was almost like he was about to propose, but the scene was anything but tender.
I looked up to see him hovering over me, using one hand to hold his cock and balls above my face. Then he began to play with himself, his dick just inches away from my eyes. “Now get a good look at it—it’s 3 inches now, but let me show you what it can do.”
Michael’s moans filled the room, deep and guttural, as he slowly stroked his thickening cock. The sight of it, growing harder and more imposing by the second, sent my mind into turmoil, churning with conflicting emotions. “Does it look good?” he asked, his voice dripping with seduction, the words cutting through the last shreds of my fragile resolve. I wanted to look away, to shut out the image of him standing over me, but I was frozen in place, my breath coming in shallow, ragged gasps. I could feel the heat rising in me, my body betraying me as arousal coiled tightly in my gut. Every fiber of my being screamed to resist, but the more I fought it, the more I felt myself slipping... “That’s it, look at how thick my cock is. See, it’s about 4 inches now,” he murmured in that same low, seductive voice. “Aaah yeah, that’s 5 inches now, buddy,” he continued, as the blood rushed to fill the beast dangling over my face. “Look, it’s 7 inches now,” he stated triumphantly.
He then took his dick and rubbed it across my face, teasing, before working his way down to press it against my lips. My breath was coming in hard and fast now as I fought the surge of blood rushing to my cock. He moved forward, letting his heavy balls rest just above my eyes, his scent overpowering my senses as he began to jerk off roughly, his rapid breathing filling the room, the vibrations of the bed intensifying with each movement.
The timer finally went off, but Michael didn’t stop. He shifted his weight, moving deliberately, until he hovered above me. Time seemed to slow as his cockhead descended, inch by inch, until it was just a whisper away from my lips. I could feel the heat radiating off him, every nerve in my body screaming, My lips parted, not by choice, but by some force that seemed beyond my control.
“Let’s see if it’s true,” he muttered as His hands paused at the waistband of my briefs, the fabric clinging to my skin for just a moment longer. My breath caught as the anticipation built, a wild mix of fear and desire swirling in my chest. And then, with a deliberate pull, he freed me, my dick responding before my mind could catch up.
“Ok, Michael, you’ve made your point—now get off me!” I demanded, trying to regain some control. But he wasn’t having it. “Oh no, fucker, we had a deal, and you’re keeping it,” he shot back, his voice dark and resolute. “You said you weren’t a fag, that you didn’t like men, and that what happened was just because you were drunk and high.”
“You owe me, Art,” he growled, cutting off any protest as he took my cock deep into his mouth. “Mmmm’MM!” I moaned as my cock sank into his throat. Michael didn’t waste a moment, relentlessly jackhammering down on my dick with merciless precision.
“Arg!” I grunted as Michael dropped to his elbows, putting more of his weight on me and effectively pushing his cockhead past my lips. “Yes! Buddy, suck,” he commanded, his voice thick with dominance, before going back to slurping on my hard, throbbing cock. Moments later, he wrapped his hand under my leg, exposing my heavy balls to him. Without missing a beat, he grabbed them, pulling hard. I gasped as he pushed his cock further into my mouth, filling it just enough to keep me on edge.
“Suck on it, Art,” he demanded again. This time, I began to comply, sucking on his dick, afraid he might thrust his entire monstrous length into my mouth and cause some real damage. I sucked harder as I felt myself nearing climax, his relentless squeezing and pulling on my balls forcing my mouth open wider and wider. “You fucking love it,” he growled as he slowly but surely drilled his 9-inch cock deeper into my mouth.
I felt a strange pull on my jaw, and just like that, it opened wide, allowing Michael’s dick to slide in completely. “Aaaa fuck yeah,” I heard Michael groan between grunts, the wet sounds of him slurping on my cock filling the room
Michael started to fuck my face and suck me off at the same time. The sensation was overwhelming; I was utterly helpless, my hard cock betraying every ounce of resistance as he power-fucked himself on me, fucking my face senseless. We were both gagging, jerking, and struggling for breath, lost in the raw, primal intensity of it all.
I shook violently, my breath catching in my throat as our bodies collided. For a fleeting moment, I hesitated, questioning everything—was this really happening? The room seemed to spin, the echoes of our movements ringing louder, drowning out the voices in my head that screamed for me to stop.
I had no choice; his dick was deep in my mouth. “I’m cumming!” he yelled, shoving my dick deep into his throat once again. I felt at least four strong spurts of cum shoot straight down my throat, but I didn’t care. I was screaming into his cock as I shot load after load into Michael’s eager mouth. He slurped and sucked greedily, refusing to let a single drop go to waste.
As the last tremors of my orgasm faded, Michael finally rolled off me, his heavy breaths mingling with mine in the thick silence of the room. I lay there, my body spent, my mind spinning with a thousand conflicting thoughts. The reality of what had just happened slowly settled in, like a cold fog creeping over me.
My body had betrayed me—no, I had betrayed myself. The boundaries I thought I knew had been shattered, leaving behind a void I didn’t know how to fill. I turned my head to look at Michael. What had I just done? And more terrifyingly, what did it mean for who I was?
“It’s just sex, Arturo, nothing more,” I heard him say as he took my dick back into his mouth, playing with it until it got hard again.
He held it in his hand, smirking. “See? It’s just sex, and you loved it.” I couldn’t help but watch his big tool swinging between his legs, still hard and thick. The realization hit me—I had accepted it, sucked it, tasted it, and had been hard the entire time..
Panting, my mind swirled with confusion. How had it come to this? I knew one thing for sure—I couldn’t let it happen again.
“Micheal, I need some time alone,” I said coldly.
“Yeah buddy, no problem” he replied, recognizing my internal struggle as he studied my face. Before walking out
