The serviced studio apartment was small but clean — a compact kitchenette, a decent-sized bed, and a window overlooking a quiet hutong alley near the language school in Dongcheng District. Nick dropped his suitcases by the door and collapsed onto the bed, staring at the white ceiling.
One week in Jakarta had felt like a month.
Nonstop family dinners, aunties pinching his cheeks, grandparents asking when he would “finally settle down with a nice girl,” and his father lecturing him every evening about the family business. He had smiled, nodded, worn the silver cross, and played the perfect son. Not a single moment alone long enough to even jerk off properly. The frustration had built like a slow burn.
Now he was in Beijing. Six months of intensive Mandarin. A fresh start.
He rolled over and checked his phone. A few messages from his mother (“Did you arrive safely? Send pictures of the apartment!”) and one from Anders that he quickly deleted without opening.
No more of that, he told himself firmly. This is where I fix myself.
The vow felt important. Celibate. Focused. No hookups, no Grindr, no “slips.” He was going to study, improve his Chinese, and become the son his parents actually deserved. Beijing would be different. Safer.
What helped was that he simply wasn’t attracted to Chinese guys. Never had been. Too familiar. Too close to the image of himself and the expectations that came with it. That was going to make things easier.
The next morning he walked to the language school — a modern building tucked behind a busy main road. The intensive class had about fourteen students. Exactly as he hoped: mostly Southeast Asian Chinese — fellow Chindos like him, Singaporeans, Chinese Malaysians — plus a handful of Koreans. And best of all, heavily skewed toward girls. Polite, studious, chatty girls who smiled at him and asked about life in LA.
No temptation. Perfect.
The first few days settled into a clean routine. Morning classes, afternoon self-study at cafés, evening Mandarin homework in his studio. He went to the gym in the apartment building, ran along the nearby park, and tried to exhaust himself every night so the horniness wouldn’t creep in.
It had been exactly fourteen days.
Nick realized it on a rainy Thursday evening while sitting on the edge of his studio bed, towel still wrapped around his waist after another cold shower. Two full weeks without sex. Without even a handjob.
He let out a short, disbelieving laugh that quickly turned embarrassed.
Two weeks.
Back in LA, toward the end, he had been getting laid at least every two days. Sometimes twice in one night. The final stretch before his flight had been pure degeneracy — different guys, different beds, different loads. He had gone from zero to twenty-five in three months like it was nothing.
And now here he was, in Beijing, proud of himself for lasting fourteen whole days like some kind of saint.
The embarrassment burned hot in his chest. What the fuck happened to me? he thought, dragging a hand down his face. He was supposed to be fixing himself. Instead he was sitting here, rock hard again, leaking into the towel because his body refused to forget what it had become addicted to.
He glanced at his phone. No Grindr. No WeChat burner accounts. He had deleted everything.
But the memory was still there.
Nick leaned back against the headboard, closed his eyes, and let his hand slip under the towel.
Just this once, he told himself. I need to take the edge off.
His mind drifted back to the very last morning in LA.
Hamad, the car service driver, was leaning against the car — mid-40s, tall and thick-bodied Arab man with a full beard, warm brown skin, and a big, solid belly straining against his black polo shirt. Nick had hired him for airport runs several times before. They always chatted easily.
“Morning, Mr Nick,” Hamad greeted him with that deep, smooth voice and a friendly smile. “Big day today, huh?”
Nick smiled back, stepping closer than necessary. “Yeah… last morning in LA.” Without thinking, he reached out and rubbed Hamad’s big belly affectionately, feeling the warm, solid weight under his palm. “Great to see you again.”
Hamad chuckled, eyes darkening slightly as Nick’s hand lingered. “Likewise Mr Nick.”
Nick looked up at him. “Hey… can you come up for a minute? Help me with the suitcases? They’re a bit heavy.”
Hamad raised an eyebrow but nodded. “Of course.”
They rode the elevator up in charged silence. The second the apartment door closed behind them, the air felt thicker.
Hamad glanced around. “Where are the suitcases?”
Nick didn’t answer right away. He walked toward the bedroom, heart pounding.
“They’re in the bedroom,” he said casually, without looking back.
Then, still walking, he peeled off his white tank top and dropped it on the floor. A second later, he hooked his thumbs into his shorts and pushed them down, stepping out of them. By the time he reached the bedroom doorway, he was completely naked — smooth golden skin, toned athletic body, round ass fully exposed, cock already half-hard.
He stopped, turned around slowly, and looked at Hamad.
Hamad was frozen in the living room, eyes wide, staring at Nick’s naked body.
“Mr Nick…” Hamad’s voice came out rougher than usual. “What are you doing?”
It wasn't the first time Hamad saw Nick fully nude.
The first time was a couple of months ago. It was 2:17 a.m. when a very drunk Nick had called Hamad from outside a WeHo club.
Hamad, already asleep, answered anyway. Twenty minutes later the black Camry pulled up. Nick climbed into the passenger seat, cheeks flushed, hair messy, lips still slightly swollen.
“You’re a lifesaver,” Nick slurred, grinning. “Surge pricing was crazy… I couldn’t get an Uber.”
Hamad sighed but started driving. “I’ll get you home safe, Mr Nick.”
But Nick had other plans.
A few minutes into the ride, he turned toward Hamad, eyes glassy. “Hamad… can I tell you something dirty? I blew a guy in the club bathroom tonight. Some random white guy. He pinned me against the wall, pulled his cock out, and I sucked him off right there. I let him fuck my throat until he came in my mouth. I swallowed most of it… but I’m still so horny.”
Hamad’s hands tightened on the wheel. “Nick… you’re drunk. You shouldn’t be telling me these things.”
Nick reached over and rubbed the front of Hamad’s pants. “I’ve always thought you were hot. You’re so different from me. Big… strong… older. It turns me on.” His hand stroked faster, feeling the thick cock swell. “You’re getting hard… you want this too, right?”
Hamad kept saying no the entire ride — low, conflicted protests. “This is wrong… I’m your driver… you’re too young for this…” Even as his cock grew rock-hard under Nick’s hand, he kept murmuring, “We shouldn’t… I don’t want to take advantage of you like this.”
When they reached the apartment, Hamad helped the unsteady Nick upstairs. The second the door closed, Nick stripped completely and stood naked in the bedroom, hard and leaking.
“Fuck me, Hamad. Please.”
Hamad stood in the doorway, breathing heavily, visibly torn. “Nick… this is a bad idea. You’re drunk. I could hurt you…”
But when Nick stepped forward and kissed him, Hamad couldn’t resist anymore.
He kissed Nick back, careful but hungry, his big hands gentle on the younger man’s waist. “If we do this… tell me if it hurts. Promise me.”
Nick nodded, already dropping to his knees. He pulled out Hamad’s thick, girthy brown cock and moaned loudly. “God, it’s so fat… I love how big it is.” He sucked him eagerly, slurping and moaning around the thick shaft. “It’s stretching my lips so much… I can barely fit it… fuck, I love your cock.”
Hamad groaned deeply, one hand resting lightly on Nick’s head. “Slow down… don’t hurt yourself,” he murmured, voice strained with both concern and pleasure.
A few minutes later Nick pushed him onto the bed, rolled a condom on the thick length, and climbed on top. He sank down slowly, gasping loudly as the fat head stretched him open.
“Fuuuuck—! It’s so girthy… stretching my ass so much…” Nick whined, starting to ride. “Your big brown cock feels incredible… filling me up completely…”
Hamad gripped Nick’s hips, breathing hard, trying to stay in control. “Are you okay? Tell me if it’s too much…” Even as he said it, his hips started moving up to meet Nick’s bounces, unable to resist how tight and warm Nick felt around him. “God… you feel too good…”
Nick rode him harder, moaning shamelessly the whole time. “Deeper… please… I can take it… your cock is stretching me so perfectly… I love how full I feel…”
Hamad’s breathing grew ragged. He flipped them gently, putting Nick on his back with his legs over his shoulders, and thrust deeper while still watching Nick’s face carefully. “Is this alright? I don’t want to hurt you…” His voice was rough with restraint and overwhelming pleasure.
“Yes—! Don’t stop… fuck me harder,” Nick begged, nails digging into Hamad’s back. “Your cock feels so good inside me…”
Hamad couldn’t hold back any longer. He fucked Nick with deep, powerful strokes, groaning every time Nick’s tight heat squeezed around him. When he finally came, buried to the hilt, Nick came right after — untouched, shooting across his own chest with a loud cry.
Nick collapsed almost immediately, exhausted and satisfied, falling asleep with Hamad still inside him.
Hamad stayed for a few minutes longer, gently pulling out, cleaning Nick up, and covering him with a blanket. He left quietly, guilt and lingering pleasure warring inside him.
They never spoke about that night again. Until the morning of the flight.
Hamad stood in the bedroom doorway, eyes wide as he stared at a completely naked Nick — sober, golden skin glowing in the morning light, cock already hard and leaking.
“Mr Nick…” Hamad’s voice was rough, shocked. “What are you doing? We have to leave for the airport soon.”
Nick stepped closer, calm and deliberate. “I remember everything about that night, Hamad. Every single thing. How gentle you were even when I was drunk and throwing myself at you.” He reached out and rested a hand on Hamad’s big belly. “You’ve always been so nice to me. Picking me up late at night, making sure I got home safe… never judging me.” Nick looked up at him, eyes sincere. “I want to repay you. I want to service you the way you’ve never been serviced before.”
Hamad swallowed hard, visibly conflicted. “This… this is not a good idea. You’re leaving today. I shouldn’t—”
“What do you want?” Nick asked softly, cutting him off. “Tell me. Anything.”
Hamad hesitated for a long moment, breathing heavier. Finally, almost shyly, he said, “I… I like when someone pays attention to my balls. They’re very sensitive.”
Nick smiled and dropped to his knees without hesitation. He nuzzled into Hamad’s thick, hairy groin, inhaling his masculine scent. “They’re so big and heavy,” he murmured, lifting the heavy sack with both hands. He dragged his tongue slowly across the hairy skin, licking and sucking gently on each ball, bathing them thoroughly with long, wet strokes of his tongue. “Mmm… I love how full they feel.”
After several minutes of intense ball worship and deepthroating, Hamad pulled him up gently and kissed him — slow, deep, and surprisingly tender. They moved to the bed. Hamad laid Nick on his back and climbed on top.
He pressed the thick, girthy head of his cock against Nick’s hole and pushed forward carefully. Nick gasped sharply as the fat head stretched him open.
“Slow… go slow,” Nick breathed, one hand on Hamad’s chest. “You’re so fucking thick…”
Hamad nodded, eyes full of concern. “Tell me if it’s too much.” He moved inch by inch, gentle but steady, letting Nick’s body adjust to his considerable girth. Nick’s mouth fell open in a long moan as the thick shaft sank deeper.
“God… it’s so thick,” Nick whimpered, breathing shakily. “I can feel every inch stretching me… your cock is so fat…”
When Hamad finally bottomed out, his curly, thick black pubes pressed flush against Nick’s smooth ass cheeks, tickling and scratching lightly with every tiny movement.
Nick’s eyes fluttered closed in pure bliss. A long, dreamy moan escaped his lips. “Oh my god… you’re all the way in. Your thick cock is so deep inside me… I feel so full.” He stayed like that for a moment — eyes shut, lips parted, completely lost in the heavy, stretching sensation.
Hamad stayed still, breathing hard. “Are you okay? Does it hurt?”
Nick shook his head, eyes still closed, a blissful smile on his face. “No… it’s perfect. Your cock is so thick it feels like you’re splitting me open… but it’s so good. Don’t move yet… just let me feel you.”
They stayed locked together like that for a long moment before Hamad finally started moving — slow, sensual rolls of his hips. They fucked romantically in missionary, with lots of deep kissing, foreheads pressed together, breathing shared.
Throughout it all, Nick kept moaning softly against Hamad’s lips. “You’re so thick… every time you thrust I feel it stretching me again… I love how full your cock makes me…”
Toward the end, as Hamad’s thrusts grew deeper and more urgent, Nick moaned into his mouth, “Do you want to try it bare? Just for a little bit… I trust you.”
Hamad froze, clearly torn. “Nick… that’s dangerous. I shouldn’t—”
“Please,” Nick whispered, kissing him again. “Just a few strokes. Pull out before you cum. I want to feel you raw.”
Hamad hesitated… but the temptation won. He pulled out, removed the condom with shaky hands, and pushed back in bare. The raw feeling made both of them moan loudly.
“Fuck… you’re even thicker bare,” Nick gasped. “I can feel every vein… so hot and fat inside me…”
Hamad only lasted a few more strokes before he pulled out quickly, stroking himself frantically over Nick’s body. Thick ropes of cum shot across Nick’s abs and chest as Hamad shuddered.
“Thank you… thank you… thank you…” Hamad kept repeating breathlessly with every pulse, voice hoarse and overwhelmed. “Thank you, Nick… thank you…”
They stayed like that for a minute, kissing softly.
Nick stroked himself faster on his studio bed, replaying both encounters — the drunk, desperate first time and the bold, naked invitation right before the airport. The memory of Hamad’s thick girthy brown cock stretching his lips and then his ass pushed him over the edge.
He came hard with a choked moan, shooting across his abs and chest while his legs shook.
For a minute the hunger eased.
Then the shame rolled in heavier than before.
He had lasted two weeks.
And the thing that finally made him break was jerking off to the memory of the one man in LA he was never supposed to touch again.
Nick stared at the ceiling, chest still heaving.
This is going to be harder than I thought.
And then he realized the answer.
Tennis. Lots and lots of it.
TO BE CONTINUED
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