English is not my first language. The novel might have some unnatural grammar and words.
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"Fuck."
Ethan dragged his feet back to the residence hall, knowing his personal hell was waiting for him there.
Growing up, Ethan's family had crammed three kids into two bedrooms, forcing him to share a room with his older brother for years. When he'd arrived on campus early and the Housing Office mentioned he might score a single, he'd damn near jumped for joy. Ethan hated dealing with people—all that endless small talk and those judgmental stares felt like needles jabbing at his nerves. A private space meant he could finally hole up in his dark room, building PCs and bathing in the glow of his monitors all day long. He'd already invested serious cash in his dream setup: the latest liquid cooling system, a beast of a rig, and wraparound ultrawide curved displays. This had been his sanctuary, but now it felt more like a prison cell.
All because of that fucking asshole! When his Residential Advisor called a few days later to say someone else would be moving in, Ethan's scalp had prickled with dread. And when that prick—Blake—walked through the door with a smile that belonged on a fucking Abercrombie ad, Ethan knew his nightmare had officially begun.
Blake was the hockey team's rising star, a two-time state champion from high school, radiating that nauseating aura of golden-boy perfection that made Ethan want to puke. When those thick calves wrapped in white athletic socks stepped into the room, and Blake flashed that trademark grin while saying, "Hey man! Looks like we're gonna be roommates for the next four years!" the only thought echoing in Ethan's head was: The next four years are going to be absolute hell.
Blake was exactly the type of guy Ethan despised most—like he'd stepped right off a university recruitment poster. His tousled dark-gold hair looked like he'd just rolled in from practice, or maybe it was deliberately styled to look effortlessly disheveled. He had that perfect sun-kissed tan, blue eyes that screamed California beach vibes, and when he smiled, those pearly whites and dimples could probably melt Antarctica. He was tall and built like a fucking Renaissance sculpture—cut muscle definition, broad shoulders, that perfect V-taper, and thighs that were absolutely jacked from years of skating. Standing next to him, Ethan couldn't help but think bitterly: Some people really do have all the fucking luck.
Actually living with him was psychological torture. After practice, Blake would dump his gear all over the floor, sweat glistening on his pecs, damp golden hair plastered to his forehead. Then he'd strut around the room wearing nothing but compression shorts—sometimes a jockstrap, and Ethan had no clue why actual D1 athletes still wore those relics as underwear—showing off those thick thighs and that tight ass. Whether it was post-workout or just a random Tuesday, the guy was constantly shirtless, like those muscles were trophies that needed to be on permanent display.
He'd do his conditioning workouts right there in the room—push-ups, pull-ups, stretching—letting out these primal grunts: "Huh! Hah!" To Ethan, it sounded like some kind of alpha dominance display, and he was either the beta getting driven away or the prey being stalked. Blake would also spend time posing in front of the mirror, admiring his own muscles, then parade around practically naked in front of Ethan, showing off those cut abs and pecs like he was appreciating his own masterpiece. Ethan would pretend to focus on his assignments or his rig, but he couldn't stop his eyes from drifting toward the sweat rolling down Blake's abs or those athletic thighs. His mind churned with bitter resentment toward this smug Adonis—Blake had to be deliberately flaunting his perfect body to humiliate him, or maybe he just didn't give a single fuck about Ethan's existence? Either answer made Ethan's skin crawl, but he didn't dare protest. Those veins bulging in Blake's forearms, those muscled fists—Ethan was terrified that one wrong word would get his head bounced off the wall, or worse.
What made it even more unbearable was that Blake's world was like some cheesy teen sex comedy. His hockey teammates—equally huge and built—would constantly crash at their room. Their obnoxious laughter and shitty trap music would take over the entire space while they chugged cheap beer and swapped stories about games and hookups, filling the air with that cocktail of Natty Light and Axe body spray. These absolute shitshows usually happened after Blake's practice, turning what should have been Ethan and Blake's shared space into some kind of satellite frat house—and while Ethan had never actually stepped foot in fraternities, this testosterone-fueled circus of "yooo bro!" and "let's fucking go!" was exactly what he imagined.
They completely ignored Ethan's existence, invaded his territory, and disrupted his digital sanctuary. Even worse, sometimes Blake would sidle up to him, throw an arm around his shoulder, and "invite" him to join with a beer! Ethan knew exactly what this was—a setup, fake friendliness masking intimidation. Blake wanted to drag him into that space where these meatheads would look down on him and teach Ethan his place in their social hierarchy. Ethan was forced to choke down a few beers or escape to the library when he sensed trouble brewing, and he'd often hear that pack of hockey bros erupting in laughter from their room.
Then there were the hot girls constantly orbiting Blake—Ethan would never forget the shock of walking in on that scene for the first time. He'd just come back to the dorm like any other day, swiped his keycard, pushed open the door—and the whole world seemed to freeze.
A gorgeous girl with red hair was straddling Blake, naked from the waist down, bouncing up and down as Blake thrust beneath her. She was moaning with pure lust: "Mmm... ahh... Blake..."
Her cheeks were flushed, eyes glazed over, hair messily plastered to her sweaty body. And Blake, that cocky bastard, was casually leaning back against the headboard, gripping her hips with both hands, his broad pecs heaving with each thrust, his solid core powering those rhythmic movements, making the cross necklace around her neck jingle with each bounce. Their naked bodies were tangled together, creating those wet slapping sounds—"slap, slap, slap"—that hit Ethan like punches to the chest, making him lightheaded.
He stood frozen in place, body rigid, while Blake and the girl didn't even pause when he walked in. She only hesitated slightly before continuing her moaning. Blake actually turned his head toward Ethan with that sweat-and-lust-soaked but still somehow perfect smile, casually greeting him: "Oh hey, Ethan, you're back?" His tone was so relaxed, like he was asking about the fucking weather, and he even introduced him to the girl: "This is my roommate, Ethan."
Ethan felt a wave of deep humiliation and rage. Blake had definitely orchestrated this for him to walk in on this pornographic scene, like he was wordlessly branding Ethan as some perverted voyeur invading private space—even though this was supposed to be his dorm room too!
Ethan's eyes involuntarily locked onto Blake's cock sliding in and out of the girl's body. He could see it clearly—Blake's hard dick wasn't nearly as impressive as he'd imagined, maybe five and a half inches, possibly a bit more, but definitely under six. Looked like it was those hefty balls underneath creating the illusion of size when he strutted around the room. Ethan shouldn't have cared—after all, that size was nowhere near his own monster. But the girl's moans were filled with genuine pleasure: "Oh... Blake... faster... yes, yes... right there!"
Impossible! Ethan's mind roared. How could this average-sized "little dick" make a beautiful girl moan with such satisfaction? She had to be faking it! Bitches were all liars, masters of deception, using fake moans to stroke men's pathetic egos. Or maybe she was just some inexperienced virgin? Yeah, that had to be it! Only a virgin would be satisfied by that kind of mediocre size. Blake, that manipulative asshole, probably targeted naive girls with no experience to make his pathetic dick look impressive!
Even so, Blake had a constant rotation of girls around him. Just from what Ethan had witnessed, Blake had already cycled through three different chicks, and they hadn't even been in school for a few months! The more Ethan thought about it, the more shocked and furious he became. How could this bastard parade around so shamelessly with that average size? Didn't he feel any shame? Ethan was packing 8.5 inches, way bigger than this so-called jock stud, yet he had to endure day after day of Blake's unapologetic confidence and those sluts' obvious thirst for Blake. Blake was clearly all show and no go—a buff guy with a short dick, barely six inches of pathetic meat, while Ethan was hung like a pornstar, but women only had eyes for Blake!
Ethan was convinced Blake was deliberately bullying him, but he didn't dare confront Blake or express his dissatisfaction. He could only bury all that resentment and humiliation deep inside, letting it fester like poison in the shadows, making him increasingly twisted and bitter. Ethan channeled his misery into various corners of the internet, and his latest outlet was a private Discord server—originally created by some graduated alumni with the noble goal of "connecting campus, finding study partners," but now it had devolved into a digital cesspit. These days, it was a battleground for trolls and doxxers, where students vented their hatred and leaked secrets. Ethan lurked there, drawn to the chaos like a moth to flame. The server was like a mirror of his inner turmoil, a place where he could ease his own suffering by laughing at others' pain. He browsed through leaked nudes, vicious memes, and posts asking "who is this fucking loser?", feeding his dark needs with this digital trash.
One night, a blurry screenshot lit up the general chat. It was a frame from a video, grainy but clear enough: a muscled guy in a dorm bathroom, no face showing, one hand gripping his dick, jerking off. The tile design and cheap shower curtain clearly marked it as their campus housing. The caption read: "lmaooo isn't this our dorm bathroom??? some pornstar is livestreaming his jerk sessions here. who tf is this guy??" The server exploded.
xXedgelord420Xx: "bruh that dick is tiny af 💀 muscle bros really aren't packing shit. someone post this to r/SmallDickProblems"
cumguzzler69: "nah those guys would say this is too big lol. this is like 'average' size or whatever"
vapejesus: "that body is fucking INSANE tho 🥵🥵 dude's pretty jacked so it makes his dick look smaller tbh"
anon_coomer: "brought a toothpick to a sword fight 🗡️ all that gym time for what??? 😂😂😂"
A string of skull and crying-laughing emojis followed. Some other users—probably thirsty girls or gay guys—were going feral over the sexy physique:
uwu_girl: "OMG WHO IS THIS I NEED THE FULL VIDEO 😍😍😍"
size_queen_420: "forget the dick look at those ABS daddy can get it"
horny_on_main: "this man could ruin my life and i'd thank him"
But nobody could figure out who he was. The server was mostly filled with campus rejects who had zero connection to the popular jocks crowd.
But Ethan recognized him immediately—he saw this body every single day in their dorm room. Those broad shoulders, defined abs, the two moles below his right pec, that faint scar on his left V-cut, and that thick, average-sized but girthy cock—that was Blake. Ethan's heart pounded, shock and the venom of revenge coursing through his veins. Blake? Blake was some online cam whore, selling his body on the internet, jerking off for perverted strangers! The thought was both disgusting and exhilarating. Ethan saved the screenshot, his brain already sketching out a grand plan for payback against this hypocritical asshole roommate.
The final straw came on a humid Thursday night. Blake burst into the dorm fresh from his advanced math class, grinning like always, backpack slung casually over his shoulder, looking like he'd aced another exam.
"Ethan!" Blake called out while grabbing his hockey gear. "Listen, I gotta book it to practice. Coach is already on everyone's ass about conditioning. The guys are coming over after, same as usual." He paused, running a hand through his hair with that easy confidence. "But I'm completely tapped out on beer—could you swing by the corner mart and grab a few cases? I'll cover it, obviously." Blake flashed that effortless smile, pulling some crumpled bills from his pocket: "Keep whatever's left and grab yourself one of those slurpees you're always drinking. And hey, you can borrow one of those hand carts they keep outside—just leave it by the entrance. We'll all help haul everything up when we get back, so you won't have to deal with the heavy lifting."
Make him run errands? This had to be straight-up bullying, right? This entitled prick was flexing his status as the golden boy jock, thinking he could boss around Ethan like some pathetic servant! Blake had to get to his precious practice, so naturally Ethan should drop everything and play errand boy? Ethan felt rage shooting straight to his head as he stared at the money Blake was offering—it felt like insulting charity, like tossing coins to a beggar. The fear and years of pent-up frustration made him tremble, but he realized—this was his fucking moment.
Ethan's head snapped up, his eyes gleaming with sick intensity. Instead of taking Blake's money, he spoke in a hoarse, venomous voice: "Beer, huh? What's the matter... you hockey meatheads too fucking lazy to walk a few extra steps when you get back?" He stepped closer, his scrawny frame tensing for confrontation. Blake blinked, clearly caught off guard, his smile starting to waver.
"Whoa, dude, I just thought—" Blake started, his voice still carrying that genuine confusion of someone who'd genuinely meant well.
"You thought I'd jump at the chance to serve you?" Ethan's eyes lit up with manic glee, his smile taking on a hint of unhinged satisfaction. "You think you can keep treating me like your personal bitch? Flaunting your sluts in front of me, your muscles, your perfect fucking life?" His voice rose, years of suppressed resentment exploding like a burst dam. "I'm sick of being your silent fucking punching bag, Blake!"
Blake was genuinely stunned. Ethan's reaction was completely blindsiding. He stared at Ethan's eyes, now filled with pure hostility and something genuinely unhinged, his expression shifting from confusion to concern. "Ethan? What are you talking about, man? I never thought of you like—"
Blake shook his head, that practiced maturity kicking in as he turned toward the door: "Look, I honestly don't know why you see me that way. I was just trying to include you, make things easier for both of us..."
"Wait!"
Before Blake could reach the door, Ethan called out, his whole body trembling with adrenaline. He fumbled with his phone, fingers shaking as he pulled up that blurry screenshot. He shoved the screen toward Blake, the grainy image flickering between them: Blake's muscular body, hand gripping his penis, frozen in the dorm bathroom. "Explain this, you cam-whoring slut," Ethan snarled, his voice mixing triumph with disgust. "Who the fuck do you think you are? The whole campus is laughing at you. I bet your hockey bros would love to know their golden boy jerks off his pathetic little dick for money. Alpha? King? What's so fucking masculine about that average cock?"
Blake's eyes flicked to the screen, and for a split second, Ethan caught a flash of something—surprise, maybe unease. But then, infuriatingly, Blake's expression relaxed, that damn smile creeping back across his face. He leaned in closer, studying the screenshot, then let out a low chuckle. "Damn, is that supposed to be me? This isn't exactly evidence, man. This pic doesn't even show the guy's face, and the quality is shit. Could be anyone." He straightened up, his tone casual, even slightly amused. "You've been holding onto this, Ethan? And you think it's me... that's... honestly kind of flattering."
Ethan's stomach twisted, all his vindictive fury transforming into a burning need for revenge. He stepped closer to Blake, his scrawny frame somehow radiating menace fueled by months of pent-up humiliation. He walked right up to Blake, staring directly at his crotch, his voice dripping with malice and challenge: "This is what you'll never fucking have. You think you're king shit around here? Let's see how you handle a real man."
Ethan yanked down the zipper of his loose cargo pants, exposing his massive, already-hard cock that looked almost obscene jutting from his skinny frame. The thick shaft stood proudly in the air, the head flushed pink, brazenly announcing its presence.
Blake turned to stare at Ethan's monster cock, his smile freezing, shock and intense curiosity flashing in his eyes. He instinctively glanced down at his own crotch, where his bulge had grown from Ethan's challenge, but the height and size compared to what was in front of him was... lacking. His five-plus inches, against Ethan's massive member, looked absolutely pathetic.
"Getting a good look, Blake?" Ethan's voice shook with excitement, he straightened his spine as if that giant cock gave him infinite power and confidence. "This is reality! This is what real 'masculinity' looks like! All your muscles, your conditioning—none of it matters when you're packing that pathetic little dick!" He stepped forward, almost pressing his cock against Blake's crotch. "Now, you arrogant 'Alpha,' faced with a 'loser nerd' you used to look down on—turns out you're just another small-dick loser! You're just a beta male who should be on his knees in front of me!"
Blake's expression shifted rapidly, the initial shock and curiosity giving way to something deeper, more exploratory and intrigued. He didn't show the humiliation Ethan had hoped for. Instead, he flashed that seductive smile. He seemed genuinely excited by Ethan's aggression and that impressive size.
"Whoa, Ethan... that's definitely... surprising... you like playing this kind of game?" Blake's voice dropped lower, taking on a magnetic quality. He reached out and directly grabbed Ethan's throbbing monster.
Ethan's body jolted violently—this was completely off-script! He'd wanted Blake's embarrassment and begging, not this! Blake's hand was warm and strong, wrapping tightly around Ethan's cock, his fingertips gently teasing the head, sending electric currents up Ethan's spine that were equal parts panic and undeniable pleasure.
"You... what are you doing?!" Ethan stammered, but his body grew even more sensitive under Blake's touch.
Blake didn't answer, just bent down slightly, his eyes indicating Ethan's massive cock, then spoke in a low, husky voice: "You pulled out something this impressive... I can't just walk away from that." His tone was submissive, as if waiting for Ethan's command. He seemed to be saying, okay, you won the size competition, want to play a dominance game? I'm game.
Ethan sucked in a sharp breath. Blake's tall frame disappeared from his eye level as he crouched at Ethan's chest, gripping Ethan's shaft, his gear bag tossed aside. He was going to suck Ethan's cock? This was exactly part of Ethan's plan! And he looked so submissive, as if truly intimidated by Ethan's size! Ethan stopped wondering why Blake wasn't showing embarrassment—massive pleasure and dominance flooded his entire being.
"Get on your knees!" Ethan commanded with authority.
Blake dropped to his knees without hesitation, looking up at Ethan with eyes full of anticipation and a hint of... longing? He seemed to be saying, yes, master, I'm ready.
When Blake's handsome face appeared at Ethan's crotch, Ethan felt dizzy. This was exactly the scene he'd fantasized about! Blake, that high-and-mighty jock, that bullying asshole, now kneeling at his feet like a slave, ready to pleasure him with his mouth! The thrill of revenge made him feel more powerful than ever. Power—he finally had the power to dominate Blake! He straightened up like an emperor looking down at his "slave."
"Open your mouth, slut." Ethan commanded with humiliating language.
Blake obediently opened his mouth, revealing his wet tongue. He seemed to frown slightly at being called "slut," but quickly returned to his submissive expression. He licked Ethan's pink tip, using his tongue to probe Ethan's urethra, lapping up the pre-cum that had already leaked. This was a sexual technique Ethan had never seen! This exciting visual and sensation almost made Ethan pass out. Blake, this bitch, was a master cocksucker—he'd definitely sucked more than one man's dick!
"Suck! Suck like the natural cocksucker you are! Your mouth is just an jock pussy, desperate to be dominated by big cock!" Ethan used even more vicious language to humiliate him. Ethan grabbed Blake's hair with one hand, wanting to roughly shove his cock in, but he felt all his blood rushing to his massive member, the pleasure of Blake sucking his head making his legs shake—he didn't have enough strength to push Blake's head down.
But Blake seemed to enjoy Ethan's humiliation, his eyes growing more excited. He pulled off Ethan's tip, then stuck out his tongue and began gently licking Ethan's head. Blake wasn't rushing to go deep—he just patiently played with Ethan's front end with his tongue and lips, sometimes gently sucking with wet sounds, sometimes using his tongue tip to tease that sensitive crown. He looked up at Ethan as if observing his reactions, waiting for Ethan's instructions, waiting for Ethan to guide him.
Ethan shuddered violently, indescribable tingles shooting from his head throughout his body. Blake's tongue was wet, hot, and agile, circling his sensitive tip. Ethan bit his lip hard, trying to suppress the moans threatening to escape his throat, not wanting to show weakness in front of Blake. He told himself to stay dominant—he was the one in control.
"Suck! You cocksucker! Slut!"
Ethan shouted, feeling Blake's body jolt like he'd been electrocuted, then Blake's mouth enveloped Ethan's shaft, slowly swallowing it down, his handsome face flushing red, slightly contorting from the effort to swallow.
"Mmph... gluk..."
Blake's mouth was stretched full, saliva dripping from the corners, wetting his chin. Ethan felt a perverse pleasure seeing Blake so helpless and overwhelmed by his size. He imagined Blake being completely conquered by his size, desperately trying to please him. White noise roared in Ethan's ears, his vision flickering with strange lights.
"Weren't you in a hurry to get to hockey practice? Hah, hah... you don't have time to buy beer but you have time to suck my cock? Huh? You slut, whore... mmm, hah, hah, you're really good at this, Blake, whew, you're a natural cocksucker! You're so good at sucking—do you hockey players spend all day in the locker room sucking each other's dicks? Huh?"
Ethan braced himself against the wall, rattling off every humiliating word he could think of while panting. Blake squinted, reluctantly pulling off Ethan's cock, saliva creating a string between his lips and Ethan's tip.
"Who said you could pull off! Suck it back in, you slave!"
Ethan shouted, but Blake didn't immediately obey. Instead, he steadied Ethan's massive shaft and said softly: "Lean against the wall, your legs are shaking. And Ethan, I'm willing to skip practice to suck your cock."
What did that mean? Ethan's heart pounded, but his brain had no blood left to process this complex information. He and Blake adjusted positions so he could lean against the wall, then Blake sucked him back in. Blake tried to deepthroat, his throat making "gluk gluk" sounds. Ethan felt himself being enveloped by warm, wet oral cavity, both comfortable and filled with dominating pleasure. He could even feel Blake's tongue sliding along his shaft, licking his sensitive skin. Soon Ethan's massive cock hit a hard-to-penetrate spot, difficulty breathing had turned Blake red as a shrimp, but he still tried to swallow Ethan's entire length.
With sounds of saliva, air, throat noises and other unidentifiable sounds, Blake completely swallowed Ethan's 8.5 inches. Ethan felt himself reaching the depths of that passage as Blake began bobbing his head, taking Ethan's huge cock in and out.
Ethan used Blake's mouth like Blake's second sex organ, fucking it. The unprecedented pleasure made Ethan moan with satisfaction. The feeling was both thrilling and dangerous, making Ethan feel his power had reached its peak. He felt Blake was using his own body, his own pain to submit to him.
"Mmm... not bad sucking, you slutty jock." Ethan said in a low voice, his tone full of satisfaction. He watched Blake's eyes, slightly red from lack of oxygen, his face turning somewhat purple from the strain. Blake was choking on his size, helpless—Ethan couldn't wait to see Blake completely dominated.
Along with the dominating pleasure, waves of bliss concentrated in his shaft. Ethan knew he was about to climax. He stared at Blake's flushed face, revenge filling him. He wanted to grab Blake's hair, force him to swallow everything! He wanted to shoot into his mouth, fill his oral cavity, make cum overflow from his nostrils, make this arrogant jock completely become his slave!
"Almost there... gonna cum... fill your mouth... taste your master!" Ethan growled, his body shaking violently from the approaching climax.
Blake seemed to sense Ethan's condition and sped up his movements, his tongue frantically stirring around Ethan's shaft. Ethan felt intense electricity shoot through his entire body as his hand weakly released Blake's hair.
"Ahh!"
Ethan could hold back no longer, shuddering violently as hot cum erupted, shooting into Blake's mouth wave after wave.
Ethan collapsed in exhaustion, admiring his handiwork—Blake's mouth filled with his cum, some even overflowing from his lips, dripping down his chin. A few drops of semen splashed near Blake's nostrils, as if about to flow out the next second.
"Gluk gluk," Blake's Adam's apple bobbed as he knew Blake was swallowing his cum. This image gave Ethan unprecedented domination and pleasure. He'd won! He'd completely conquered this once-feared and envied arrogant hockey star with his size!
However, what happened next seemed to derail Ethan's expectations. Blake didn't choke on the cum or show disgust as Ethan had imagined. He just slowly swallowed the semen, then licked his lips, looking up at Ethan with a submissive smile, his face stained with Ethan's cum like a devout Christian boy. Then he gazed with gentle eyes at Ethan's cock, which had just released and was now soft but still impressive, and those small testicles. He reached out, gently and almost reverently stroking Ethan's shaft, his fingertips lingering on the soft sac.
"Ethan, you're amazing..." Blake's deep voice praised: "I've been hoping someone could do this to me, and that person being you... Ethan, though what surprised me most was how... magnificent it is." Blake continued licking Ethan's softened cock as he spoke. Ethan, having just climaxed, found this touching only uncomfortable. He trembled slightly as Blake licked for a while, that huge, still-soft length resting against Blake's lips.
Blake maintained his kneeling position, leaning forward, gently pressing Ethan against the wall. Ethan felt his center of gravity shift as Blake's weight pressed against him, spreading Ethan's legs and lifting one of Ethan's legs up. Ethan's body opened completely in this position, his butt slightly raised. Blake lowered his head, his tongue sliding from Ethan's soft sac down along his inner thigh to his butt, licking his non-elastic buttocks.
Ethan felt electricity shoot through his body as Blake's wet, hot tongue licked his lacking-firmness butt cheeks, both strange and stimulating. He used his tongue tip to gently probe toward Ethan's tight crack.
Ethan tensed his body sharply, letting out a suppressed gasp. "You... what do you want to do?!"
Blake didn't answer, just patiently and gently licked Ethan's crack with his tongue, gradually approaching his back entrance. His tongue was wet, hot and flexible, exploring Ethan's most secret, most vulnerable place. Ethan felt intense, pure sexual stimulation, different from the humiliation pleasure. Blake was licking his asshole, bringing a strange tingling and trembling. Only now did Ethan realize Blake wasn't a "slave" conquered by his size—he'd just gone along with Ethan's power game rules and enjoyed the blowjob, his submission just one part of this complex power game. Now, he was going to play this power game his own way.
Blake's tongue tip probed into Ethan's asshole. Ethan felt an expansion sensation and foreign object feeling, moaning uncomfortably. "No... Blake... stop!"
Blake didn't stop, patiently using his tongue to expand Ethan's asshole, licking open Ethan's back entrance while saying softly: "Don't be nervous, it's already getting very wet here." His tongue stirred inside Ethan's body, making Ethan feel utterly ashamed. He'd always thought he was directing this revenge drama, but now he was being played with by Blake's tongue, while his brain felt dizzy, his massive cock still soft and sleeping. Ethan felt himself being completely opened—this was the prelude to invasion.
After expanding enough, Blake withdrew his tongue and stood up. He held one of Ethan's legs, using his "small" sized cock to press against Ethan's wet entrance. Ethan's brain went blank—he couldn't think about what was happening now, only white noise in his ears. Just one signal telling him that cock he'd mocked was going to enter—Blake didn't give him time to react, supporting his shaft and thrusting hard inward.
"Ahhh—!" Ethan screamed, the massive foreign object sensation making his body tense, tears instantly flowing. Blake's size wasn't as big as Ethan's massive member, but entering Ethan's undeveloped asshole still made Ethan feel like he'd been hit with a club.
Blake stopped, not continuing deeper, gently kissing Ethan's forehead, comforting him: "Does it hurt? I'll wait for you to adjust. I want you to be happy, I want you to like me doing this. You're the boss—whenever you want me to move, just command me."
Blake specifically emphasized the word "command," as if he were still Ethan's submissive slave. However, this didn't make Ethan feel any better. He only felt humiliation and powerlessness—he'd wanted to make Blake suffer, but ended up being fucked by Blake. His revenge plan, his domination fantasy, was about to completely collapse.
"Just do it already! Then hurry up! You short-dicked bitch! That tiny excuse for a dick isn't doing anything but rubbing against my asshole!"
Ethan shouted, but Blake took it as a command and began to move slowly and patiently inside him. Each deep thrust was accompanied by Ethan's subtle moans and trembling, along with Blake's reassuring words and kisses. The initial pain and discomfort gradually subsided as Blake continued his patient piston movements, replaced by a sensation of fullness and stretching pleasure. Blake's hardness ground against Ethan's sensitive spots, bringing a strange sense of satisfaction and fullness.
"Let's move to the bed, boss. You look like you're about to pass out."
Blake didn't pull out but carried Ethan to the bed, then pressed him down onto it. In this missionary position, the snake chain around Blake's neck swung in front of Ethan's eyes with each thrust. The necklace, made of small metallic pieces that gleamed coldly, stood out prominently against Blake's solid, sweat-dampened chest. Every time Blake thrust deep, the chain bounced up and fell back down, like a living snake slithering across Blake's pecs. Blake's broad, defined chest muscles repeatedly contracted and relaxed before Ethan's eyes, sweat running down the valleys of his muscles, dripping onto Ethan's abdomen and thighs.
Ethan stared at the Blake's buff pecs, feeling an intense visual impact. This man was thoroughly conquering him with his physical power and that seemingly "modest" cock. He'd wanted to dominate Blake, but ended up being pinned down like this, his body penetrated—and worst of all, he was enjoying the sensation, enjoying being taken by a cock that was nowhere near his own size.
He'd always harbored jealousy and resentment toward Blake's chest, but deep down, he was also filled with curiosity and an inexplicable longing. He had imagined countless times what it would feel like to touch those solid muscles, to play with the nipples. He'd always rejected these thoughts, seeing them as a betrayal of himself. But now, Blake's pecs were right in front of him, heaving with each thrust, as if inviting him to touch.
Ethan couldn't resist anymore. He reached out with trembling hands and lightly touched Blake's sweat-slicked chest. The muscle was harder than he'd imagined, full of power. Blake seemed to feel Ethan's touch and paused briefly before letting out a deep, satisfied moan, "Mmm..."
Blake liked this.
Ethan's fingers slid across Blake's pecs, then shakily moved toward those small nipples, gently pinching them. Blake's body shuddered violently as he let out a low growl, "Hah!" and his movements became more intense.
As if responding to Ethan playing with his nipples, Blake explored deeper inside Ethan. His erection moved in and out powerfully and rhythmically, as if searching for something. Ethan could feel Blake rubbing inside him, each thrust bringing a sense of expansion and fullness. Suddenly, Blake hit a spot that made Ethan's body jolt and let out a high-pitched moan.
"Ahh!!"
"Found it," Blake said excitedly, his cock pressing firmly against that sensitive spot before beginning to thrust at an astonishing speed and force.
"No! Wait, yes! No!" Ethan felt waves of intense pleasure washing over him, stronger than anything he'd felt before. Blake had apparently found his prostate, and each thrust accurately hit that bundle of nerves.
"Haa... haa..." Ethan panted, his body arching from the intense pleasure. Blake's movements grew faster and more powerful, each thrust so deep it felt like he was being impaled.
"Right here, isn't it, boss?" Blake's voice was husky with desire, his pecs bouncing wildly before Ethan's eyes, the bone necklace making slight jingling sounds with each impact. "Makes you feel so good you could die, doesn't it?"
"Aaaaahhhh!!" Ethan screamed, his body shaking violently. The pleasure was too intense—his mind went blank, reduced to primal desire and moaning. Blake pounded relentlessly inside Ethan, each thrust accurately striking that spot. Ethan felt waves of orgasmic pleasure crashing over him like a tide, his body completely out of control, spasming.
"See, Ethan, who says size is everything?" Blake's voice carried a hint of amusement, his chest heaving dramatically before Ethan's eyes. "What matters is who can make you moan like this."
Ethan bit his lip, unwilling to admit Blake was right. He felt his body betraying him—while he wanted to resist and hate, his body was responding to Blake's movements. Each thrust seemed to break down the barriers in Ethan's heart, replacing them with an intense, irresistible desire.
"Weren't you supposed to go to practice—mmm..." Ethan couldn't help asking between the intense waves of pleasure, his question interrupted by his own moaning.
Blake thrust violently inside Ethan, letting out a satisfied growl: "Fuck! Mmm... huff—practice? Satisfying you is way more important than practice." His voice carried a gentle dominance, as if telling Ethan everything he was doing was for them... Then, Blake suddenly became more excited, his hips speeding up, pounding into Ethan like a jackhammer: "Ethan, I've been waiting for a day like this... Nemesis, the Day of Wrath, and you're the one punishing me... Ethan, Ethan, I skipped practice just to obey your command, to suck your cock like this, to fuck you! This is my retribution, my—you—"
Ethan couldn't understand what the hell Blake was talking about. Punishment? Day of Wrath? These obscure weirdo terms coming from an all-American college jock created a strange dissonance. But the flood of pleasure quickly drowned Ethan's brain, and he only felt his head was about to burn up, while Blake's tongue had already entered his mouth, their tongues intertwining.
"Hah... I... I don't know why you've been so hostile toward me..." Blake pulled away from Ethan's lips, wiping the saliva from the corner of his mouth. His thrusting finally slowed down, as if waiting for Ethan's answer: "I thought we were friends... but I really don't know why you think of me that way? I always thought you liked me since you were always sneaking looks at me... and then, then you say I'm bullying you and you want revenge! God, but maybe this is what I wanted, an unreasonable punisher."
Ethan was increasingly confused. There wasn't a trace of malice in Blake's voice, only genuine puzzlement. While enduring the pleasure Blake was giving him, Ethan tried to explain his twisted psychology in broken sentences.
"I... I thought you... you were always showing off... with your bros... and those girls... not caring about how I felt..." Ethan's tearful voice was fragmented between pleasure and pain: "Ugh... ah..."
"Showing off? Ethan, I wasn't disregarding your feelings..." With gentler thrusts, Blake's voice became low and tender: "I just... didn't really think about these things, how could I..."
He seemed to be genuinely listening to what Ethan was saying, thinking seriously while simultaneously comforting Ethan with his body and giving him pleasure.
Ethan felt a wave of shame. Had it all been his paranoid delusion? Had everything just been one-sided? He'd never seriously talked with Blake, always avoiding contact. Whenever Blake tried to approach him, Ethan would run far away... So it turned out this whole situation was laughable. Ethan felt like laughing, but the waves of pleasure made him want to cry. He felt his body about to be pushed to climax by Blake, and his heart was beginning to melt as well.
"Cum for me, Ethan! Cum for me!" Sensing the spasms in Ethan's passage and realizing Ethan was close to climaxing, Blake growled.
However, just as they were about to reach climax, Blake's phone rang—the screen showing Mike. He was one of Blake's hockey buddies, in the same year. Blake slowed down, hurriedly picking up the phone and signaling Ethan to be quiet—but he didn't stop moving his hips.
"Hey, Blake! Where the hell are you? Coach is pacing around like a caged animal."
Mike's loud voice came through the phone, so loud that even Ethan, who wasn't near the phone, could hear the bull demands.
"Hey Mike... sorry, I uh... I got this nasty stomach bug." Blake frantically searched for an excuse, putting on his usual jock persona, even as Ethan lay beneath him.
"Stomach bug? Bro, you sounded perfectly fine two hours ago when you were going on about how sick the Avalanche are this season."
"Yeah, well... it just hit me suddenly, you know? Like, really suddenly."
Already nearly at his climax, the cock inside him had suddenly slowed down, making Ethan's sweet spot feel like it was crawling with ants. He began actively moving his ass to meet Blake's thrusts, which made Blake gasp involuntarily.
"Dude, you sound weird. Are you running or something? Why are you breathing so hard?"
"I'm... uh... doing some stretching exercises. Trying to ease the... stomach cramps." Blake immediately realized how lame this excuse sounded but continued in a calm voice: "Mike, listen, just tell Coach I'll be there tomorrow, okay? Make up whatever excuse works."
"Bro, he's already talking about extra suicide drills tomorrow for missing practice. You sure you can't just power through? Maybe take some Pepto—"
It seemed Mike really believed Blake had a stomach bug.
"No, I really can't make it today. Trust me on this one."
"Fine, fine... but you owe me big time for covering your ass. And you better not be lying about being sick, because if I find out you're just hanging with some chick—"
Blake had jumped to conclusions too early, he thought, immediately denying: "It's not... not what you think, Mike."
"I guess not. You just broke up with that girl you said you wanted to get serious with... Whatever. We're not doing the celebration of your singlehood tonight either?"
"Drinking together was never about celebrating that kind of thing anyway."
Blake's voice grew deeper. Broke up? Ethan didn't even know who Blake's girlfriend was. And the impact of this event seemed pretty significant to Blake.
"I don't know why you broke up with her, man. Didn't you really like her? And damn, she practically worshipped you. You could see it in her eyes."
"Enough, let's not talk about this. I, I really have something I need to deal with."
Blake anxiously changed the subject, his movements becoming rougher, making Ethan want to cry out. Noticing Ethan's reaction, Blake quickly covered Ethan's mouth.
"Alright, get better then. Hope you'll at least text me before I call next time."
"Will do. You have my eternal gratitude!"
"Always, bro. But seriously, Coach is gonna make us all pay for this tomorrow. Hope whatever you're doing is worth it."
Blake sighed as he hung up, tossing the phone aside, releasing his hand from Ethan's mouth, and resuming his rapid thrusting. Ethan could no longer contain himself. Under Blake's intense pounding, he let out a high-pitched cry, "Ah!" His body spasmed violently as hot cum shot out, landing on Blake's abdomen and chest. Blake shuddered inside him, letting out a satisfied growl, "Ah!" as he released his hot fluid inside Ethan.
Blake collapsed on top of Ethan, breathing heavily. Ethan felt himself filled with Blake's warmth and essence. He lay beneath Blake, feeling unprecedented exhaustion and complexity. He had intended to get revenge on Blake, to humiliate him, to destroy the masculinity of this alpha boy in others' eyes. But instead, he'd been thoroughly fucked by Blake with that average-sized cock. Blake lifted his head, a satisfied smile back on his face, and kissed Ethan's damp forehead. Ethan looked at Blake's face so close to his, seeing no malice or mockery in those eyes, only post-play excitement and... intimacy? Ethan suddenly realized that from beginning to end, Blake had simply treated this as an exciting "game" that brought them closer, while only he himself had been immersed in shadows of revenge and humiliation.
"Why... why did you..." Ethan stammered.
Blake smiled and lightly flicked Ethan's nose with his finger. "No particular reason, just thought you were interesting. And... that thing of yours is definitely impressive." Blake smiled and said: "Plus, I like this kind of... playing something different. You actually being into this kind of... power play, maybe you really are my punishment."
Ethan felt confused, not knowing how to face Blake's complete lack of being "broken" by him. He'd wanted to make Blake his "slave," but instead found himself fucked senseless by a "small-sized" jock he'd once looked down on. He hated Blake, but his body's reaction couldn't lie. And "punishment"? Blake had mentioned that term before—what did it mean? Ethan wanted to punish Blake, but ended up being fucked by him! Now Blake was mysteriously muttering about divine punishment, intensifying Ethan's dizziness.
But before Ethan could recover, Blake jumped off him, his still-erect cock bouncing up and down with his movement. He seemed in a good mood, as if he'd just finished an exhilarating game. He still had Ethan's cum on him but didn't seem to care.
"Come on, let's shower together." Blake said, grabbing Ethan's hand and pulling him up from the bed.
Ethan's body was somewhat stiff, but he didn't resist. He felt a dull ache inside and residual pleasure, along with an unprecedented complex emotion. They entered the bathroom together. Blake turned on the shower, warm water washing over their sweaty bodies. Blake stood behind Ethan, gently massaging his lower back, as if helping him relax.
"Come here, sit here." Blake pointed to the toilet seat in the bathroom.
Ethan obediently sat down. Blake still knelt between his legs, just like when he was giving him oral earlier. Ethan felt a wave of shame, but more than that, an irresistible electric stimulation. Blake didn't rush to clean up, just gently spread Ethan's buttocks, exposing the reddened hole. Ethan clenched his ass, knowing Blake's intentions. Blake slapped Ethan's butt telling him to relax, then lowered his head and pressed his lips against Ethan's hole. Ethan's body jolted violently as he exclaimed: "Ah!" Blake's wet, hot tongue licked around the entrance, then began to gently suck.
"Ah... you... what are you doing! That's disgusting!" Ethan felt a strange sensation from his hole as Blake's mouth sucked at his buttocks, making "pop pop" sounds as if trying to draw out all the fluid inside him.
Blake didn't respond, just continued sucking. Ethan felt a stream of fluid being sucked out by Blake—it was Blake's cum, mixed with traces of Ethan's orgasm.
"You're sick!" Ethan cursed, yet didn't push Blake away, instead feeling a morbid excitement. Blake was cleaning him in the most intimate way possible, drawing out what they'd created together. The act was both humiliating and stimulating.
Blake sucked for a moment, then looked up, his lips still coated with the cum he'd sucked from Ethan. He gazed at Ethan, his eyes full of playfulness and desire.
Then, Blake leaned forward and kissed Ethan's lips.
Ethan felt dizzy: "Mmph!" Blake's lips were wet and soft, carrying the taste of cum from inside him. Their tongues intertwined, and Ethan tasted his own insides, as well as Blake's cum. The feeling was both disgusting and thrilling, making Ethan's stomach churn while his body trembled from this forbidden contact.
While responding to Blake's kiss, Ethan mentally cursed: "This bastard! What kind of person is he? How many men has he been with? Otherwise, how would he be so skilled? How did he know how to use that small thing to make me feel so good?"
Blake's kiss was forceful and invasive. He seemed to enjoy this intimate connection. He used his tongue to explore Ethan's mouth thoroughly, creating sensations that made Ethan's spine tingle. Ethan wanted to push Blake away but couldn't help responding to his kiss. He realized he had completely fallen, manipulated by Blake's every move. After the kiss, Blake looked up at Ethan's twisted face—a mixture of confusion, excitement, and internal conflict—with a satisfied smile. He wiped away traces from Ethan's mouth corner with his finger, then put it in his own mouth.
"How was that, Ethan?" Blake's eyes were full of mischief.
Ethan stared at Blake. He had wanted revenge, wanted to humiliate him, dominate him. But instead, he felt completely conquered by Blake in a way he couldn't comprehend. His physical advantage had been completely irrelevant, and he found himself possessed by Blake's assertiveness. This wasn't what he wanted! Yet he couldn't help replaying the feeling of Blake's movements and that intense kiss they'd shared.
To be continued..
