The Inevitability of China

Xiaojun knew the transition he was shepharding Ryan through by way of his sexual domination would be as much painful as it was pleasurable. The training that he'd received back in China told him it would cause psychological distress, and he was taught techniques to harness that distress to achieve the goals of his mission.  It all made sense, and on his first assignment, he'd applied those techniques with stunning success.

But somehow, Ryan was different.  Or maybe Xiaojun himself was?  When he saw the American drop the tape measure, bury his head in his hands, and start to cry, he felt not a sense of victory or accomplishment, but a sense of pity.

Although Ryan couldn't be blamed for not yet understanding the crippling blows he had set himself up to render against his country, it was obvious that he'd taken a crippling blow to his own American ego.  Xiaojun watched as the slender American slowly drew back the tape measure, inch by inch, and knew that as each inch unfurled, Ryan was becoming aware of his own weakness, then the weakness of any of his countrymen he'd been lucky enough to suck, then weakness of who he pretended to be in his fantasies, and finally even the weakness of the fantasies his countrymen dared to entertain.  Xiaojun was bigger than all of them.  That cock had been born and grew huge in China, and now it was here right in front of Ryan.  Beyond the pain it created as he got fucked, beyond the jaw-stretching girth he'd felt, it had now been assigned a number.  9.5 inches.  Ryan's awareness of it had come in an instant.

Of course, Ryan had spent a lifetime learning a different "truth". The "truth" of the big white Americans cock.  Sure, Ryan probably came to realize somewhere during boyhood that he himself was small. Nevertheless, he grew up coddled by American society's penchant for self-deception.  He never would have guessed that the average cock size in his countrymen was only 5.25", and that more often than not, those white porn actors he oggled as he jacked off were Eastern European, who had a size advantage over the Americans.  

Nor would have noticed that the Chinese who stereotypes told him were short and submissive were, in synchronization with China's surging economy, growing taller with each yearly generation... and so were their cocks. Hobbled by having reached their limit, Americans were stuck at 5'9" tall with 5.25" between their legs.  And he might be oblivious to the fact that China's economy had already surpassed America's in 2014, by the metric most economists preferred to use.

Whether Ryan was as aware of all this evidence Xiaojun couldn't say, but he'd clearly reached the conclusion.  And it broke him.  He was weeping between Xiaojun's smooth, tan, muscular legs.

"Heyyyy..." Xiaojun said in a soft and sympathetic voice.  He brought his hand to Ryan's cheek and grasped it only firmly enough to twist Ryan's head up so their eyes could meet.  Ryan's eyes were sky blue, glistening with tears, and were hollow and hopeless.

"Don't tell me the sex is so bad it's making you cry?" Xiaojun asked, facetiously pretending to be offended.  Ryan caught the joke and laughed through his sobs, getting a hold on his emotions.

"It's just so much so fast..." Ryan stammered.  "You're so perfect and I'm... nothing," he blurted out.

Xiaojun knew this was true; Ryan's awareness of it would be useful.  If he thought of himself as nothing, he could be made to do anything.  His training told him to go in for the kill.  But he didn't.

"Ssshhhh," the Chinese man interrupted.  "Let's take this slow. Okay?"  Ryan mumbled in agreement.

With their eyes still connected, Xiaojun nodded as if to say "Now pick up where we left off."  Ryan picked up on the cue, and leaning his head in to bring his lips around the thick head of his Chinese partner.

"No!" Xiaojun said sharply, causing Ryan to yank his head away like he'd touched something hot.

"I said let's take it slow," Xiaojun explained firmly.  Seeing the confusion swirling in the American's blue eyes, he explained, "Lick me.  I want to talk to you.  I don't want your mouth to be full!"

A wide smile broke across Ryan's face to know that, even though Xiaojun was in control, Ryan was more than just a cock sleeve.  'He wants to talk to me!'.

Ryan decided his first act would be to touch the tip of his tongue gently against the thick, bulging vein that started near the base of Xiaojun's giant cock shaft.  Then, as his warm moist breath caressed the shaft that was looming in front of his mouth, Ryan traced his tongue along it all the way up to the tip.  Then he let his tongue detour and trace a circle around the edge of the Chinese man's cockhead.

"Ooooh, fuck, Ryan!  That feels so good!" Xiaojun gasped.  And it wasn't an act.  He'd never dared to imagine something so delicate could feel so good.

Xiaojun looked down in pleasure as Ryan knelt between his mighty thighs and teased the tip of his warm, wet tongue up Xiaojun's long and meaty shaft.  As he did, it occurred to him that although there was certainly plenty of work ahead, there was no work left to be done tonight.  Ryan was clearly mind-broken.  He'd said out loud that he wanted to spy for China, and -- even if he didn't intend to -- had performed the first act of that espionage by bringing home a recording from within the CIA.  

No, Xiaojun thought, 'I'm off the clock now.'  Liberated by that realization, a raw and powerful lust ignited inside Xiaojun.  It made him want to grab the American's head and ram every last inch of his Chinese artillery down Ryan's throat and face fuck him until he came. That would feel so good!  There was nothing Ryan could do to stop him. But then Xiaojun's own admonition came back to him.  "Let's take it slow.  Okay?"  He decided he'd apply that rule to himself as well.

Xiaojun felt the strong urge to run his fingers through Ryan's blond hair, but he knew that if he so muched as touched the American, the raw, sexual beast inside him would be unshackled and unstoppable until it had eaten its meal.  Instead, Xiaojun placed his hands on the edge of the bed, gripping them almost as if he was holding on.  He closed his eyes and tilted his head back, allowing himself only the sensation of the touch to his cock, and the sound of Ryan's occasional whimpers of pleasure.  Xiaojun could guess that each whimper was the result of some random thought or urge that rolled through Ryan's mind, tearing up more of what he used to be, and rewiring him into the person he was destined to be.  The mystery of what exactly those thoughts were only heightened the Chinese man's pleasure to hear them.

After many minutes of gentle tongue-tip traces, Ryan needed more.  But he, too, was obeying the order to take it slow.  Somehow he managed to fight back the urge to gobble Xiaojun's Chinese cock whole, and instead pressed and rubbed and nuzzled and ground his face against the mighty shaft, the way an affectionate kitten might rub it's face against its owner.  Xiaojun let out a moan of surprised pleasure.  He was no stranger to sex, and no stranger to sex with submissive Americans, but no one had ever done that to him.  It felt so good.

He couldn't hold back any longer.  The docile kitten between his legs had pushed him beyond his limit, and Xiaojun decided to release the Chinese tiger inside him.

Just then, Ryan spoke.  His voice was muffled as his face was pressed against Xiaojun's body and his long cock was rubbing against his left cheek.  But he could understand the words.

"It's too bad I turned the phone off in the bathroom.  You should have heard the meeting we had later."

Xiaojun opened his eyes and blinked.  Ryan had just told him there was more to be learned after all.  The Chinese man hid it from the American between his legs, but inside he felt a deep sense of shame. He was selfish to take himself 'off the clock', and derelict in not continuing to do his job.  Only the voluntarily admission from Ryan had corrected that mistake.  Silently, Xiaojun blamed himself and thanked Ryan.

While Ryan went back to nuzzling his Chinese superman, Xiaojun reached his long, muscular arm across the bed and picked up Ryan's mind-broken American phone and tapped some more buttons on its reprogrammed screen.  Presently, new audio crackled out of its speaker.  From the sound of chairs moving, people coughing in the background, papers shuffling.  What was this?

Finally, there was a sound of a heavy door shutting and a gathering silence in the room.  Then a throat clearing.

"Uh, ok... sorry for the short notice.  Let's get started, we have a lot to go through today."

Ryan knew in an instant, it was the voice of the group director.  The phone was replaying the hour long conference they'd called earlier in the day.  But Ryan knew for sure he'd turned his phone off in the bathroom.

"What the... how did you...?"  Ryan asked in utter shock, drawing his face back away from Xiaojun's body.

Xiaojun laughed softly and responded, "Ryan, where do you think your iPhone is made?"

Ryan wasn't ready yet to surrender to that obvious fact.  "But... the software is..."

Xiaojun interrupted him patiently.  "Where do you think that software gets loaded onto the phone?"

Ryan still wasn't quite ready to give up.

"But someone at Apple would notice..."

Xiaojun's voice remained patient.  "And you know where they get most of their engineers, right?"

China.  The answer to all those questions was China.  It seemed like the answer to every question went back to China.  Given choice but to surrender to the reality, a sense of calm came over Ryan.  Gone was the surprise of learning about what was really inside his phone.  So too was the embarassment of needing something so obvious explained to him.  It was replaced by a sense of inevitability.  If China could coopt and corrupt American hardware and an American brand that was all over the world... what else could they do?  How could they ever be stopped?  This answer was obvious, and Ryan didn't need Xiaojun's leading questions to bring him to it.

China was inevitable.

A feeling of elated pride welled up in Ryan.  He was now on Team China.  Knowing that the meeting lasted a full hour, and that his phone recorded it all, he did nothing but stay on his knees and tongue Xiaojun docilely as he listened to ALL of it, fully aware of what a gold mine of information it was.

Suddenly, near the end of the meeting, Ryan tensed because he heard his own name.  It wasn't Xiaojun speaking it, it came from the speaker on the phone.  It was the group director speaking.

'And so Ryan, we'd like you to be the interface with the NSA's quantum crypto group.  They may not tell us anything useful, but at least we can give them leads of where to do their searches.  I've set up a clearance for you.  Talk to me tomorrow morning.'

"Ohhh... the NSA," Xiaojun said, in a seductive voice.

"Yeah..." Ryan answered flatly.  His mind was still catching up to all of this.

"Tomorrow morning?" Xiaojun asked inquisitively.

"Yeah..."

"Perfect," Xiaojun said.  The plan came together in his head in an instant.  Then he heard Ryan's voice start to say something, perhaps he intended to answer 'Yes, sir,' but the director had cut him off and addressed other people like Ryan didn't even matter.  It gave him a pang of pity for the American.

At that point Xiaojun made the decision, HE would trust Ryan.  He would include him.  He would let him share in the glory.

The meeting finally came to an end, and Xiaojun stopped the playback. He'd been listening intently for an hour while the American, gently but just as intently, had continually tongue-bathed his mammoth Chinese cock.  On the carpet below where Ryan's thumb-like American cock still stood perkily erect, was a wet spot.  He'd been leaning precum for an our.

"Alright, Ryan.  It's time for you to suck me," he said matter of factly.  "Suck ALL of me."