The Second Step

The morning light filtered through the curtains of Marco’s bedroom, casting a glow over his massive body sprawled on the bed. He woke up with a smug grin, his body relaxed yet buzzing with an euphoria that made his hands almost tremble. He couldn’t believe what had happened the night before. He, Marco, one hundred percent straight, had convinced his best friend Luca, supposedly just as straight, to get on his knees, take his cock in his mouth, suck it down to the hilt, and swallow his cum. The images replayed in his mind like a porn flick: Luca’s full lips stretched around his dick, his flushed face inching closer to his pubes, his nose brushing against the skin as his entire shaft disappeared down Luca’s throat. It was… fucking hot. Not because Luca was a guy, but because it was Luca, the stud every girl wanted, the guy who always had a line of pussy waiting to drop at his feet. Yet last night, it was him on his knees for Marco.

Marco ran a hand over his face, his grin widening. How the fuck did that happen? he wondered. He was straight, never looked at a guy that way. But Luca… there was something different. It wasn’t just his chiseled body—a lean six-foot frame of defined muscles, abs carved like marble, strong legs—or his model-like face, with those piercing blue eyes and light brown hair that fell over them. It was the power Marco felt, the control. Getting a guy like Luca, popular and cocky, to do something so intimate, so humiliating, was like winning a fucking war. But now, a question nagged at him: Is Luca really straight? Marco pondered it, lying in bed, his cock already stiffening at the memory. Luca had banged tons of girls, famous for his conquests, the legendary fucks he bragged about. Yet last night, he sucked dick and swallowed cum. Would a fully straight guy do that? Marco wondered. Maybe not. Maybe there was something in Luca, something he didn’t even admit to himself. Or maybe, more likely, it was their years-long friendship that gave Marco a hold over him. A power he could exploit again.

This can’t end here, Marco decided, getting out of bed. The images of Luca on his knees were too vivid, too arousing. He had to do it again, and soon. He didn’t want to let too much time pass, didn’t want to give Luca a chance to back out or overthink it. Today, at the gym, he’d make it happen. He’d use the excuse of “talking” about what happened, lure Luca into one of the private stalls with a lock—perfect for some discreet action—and fuck his mouth again. But he had to be smart, like the first time. He couldn’t force him, not yet. He had to play the pity card, make Luca feel guilty. He’d spin a story: he woke up this morning with his cock rock-hard, aching, unable to get off with his hand. “I can’t cum, bro, not like this. I need you, only you can help me.” He’d lean on their friendship, on Luca’s loyalty. And once Luca gave in, Marco would drag it out, making Luca bob on his cock longer, making it feel almost… normal. A bro helping a bro, he chuckled to himself. But in his mind, the plan was clear: every blowjob was a step toward turning Luca into his personal slut.

A few miles away, Luca woke up with a weight on his chest. His room was quiet, but his mind was a fucking mess. Guilt was eating him alive. How the fuck did I do that? he asked himself, staring at the ceiling. The memory of last night was like a knife: Marco’s cock in his mouth, the salty taste, the invasive heat, the feeling of that hard rod fucking his throat. And worst of all: the cum, that slimy, bitter lava that slid down his throat, settling in his stomach. He felt dirty, humiliated. I’m fucking straight, he thought, clenching his fists. I fuck pussy, I get blowjobs, I don’t give them to other guys. He’d had dozens of girls, was the guy who turned heads wherever he went. Yet last night, he’d knelt before his best friend and done the unthinkable. The memory of that slab of meat invading his mouth, Marco’s hands guiding him, was a shame that burned inside him. How could he face Marco without feeling like a weak, pathetic loser?

But he had to talk to him. He couldn’t let it slide. He had to make it clear it was a mistake, even if done for a “good cause.” I did him a favor, he was desperate, he repeated to himself, trying to justify it. But the truth was, he felt used, exposed. He had to confront Marco, tell him they needed to forget it, that it could never happen again. At the first chance, in the gym, he’d pull him aside and lay it out straight.

At the gym, the air was thick with sweat and metal, as always. Marco and Luca trained together, but the vibe was off. Luca was quiet, his face tense, his eyes avoiding Marco’s. Marco, on the other hand, seemed too relaxed, a smirk playing on his lips every time he glanced at Luca. After the last set, Marco gave him a pat on the shoulder. “Hey, bro, we gotta talk about yesterday. Come on, let’s hit the stall in the back, the one with the door. It’s more private.”

Luca hesitated, his heart racing. “Marco, can’t we just talk here?” he mumbled, his voice lacking conviction.

“Come on, Luca, just two minutes,” Marco insisted, his tone friendly but with an edge that didn’t allow refusal. “I don’t want shit getting weird between us, or someone overhearing.”

Luca nodded reluctantly and followed him to the stall. It was a small room with a bench and a lockable door, used for private training or physio. Marco locked the door with a click, and the air turned heavy.

“So, bro,” Marco started, sitting on the bench, legs spread, his massive frame dominating the space. “I just wanna say thanks for yesterday. You were… fuck, a lifesaver. But there’s a problem.”

Luca stiffened, crossing his arms. “Marco, that shit shouldn’t have happened. It was a mistake, okay? I… don’t want it to happen again. We’re straight, man. That’s not us.”

Marco sighed, running a hand over his face, his tone deliberately desperate. Hit the guilt trip. “I know, Luca, I know it’s weird. But hear me out. This morning I woke up and… fuck, I was hard as a rock again. My balls are killing me, bro. I tried jerking off, but it doesn’t work. I can’t cum like that. It’s like… my body’s hooked on what you did yesterday.” He paused, letting the words sink in. “I’m losing it, man. I need you, Luca. Only you can help me.”

Luca’s eyes widened, shaking his head. “No, Marco, fuck no. I can’t do it again. Yesterday was too much. I’m not a fag, you know that!”

“I know, bro,” Marco said, standing and putting a hand on Luca’s shoulder. The gesture seemed friendly, but the pressure was clear. “I’m not saying you’re gay or some shit. You’re my best friend, man. It’s just a favor, a bro helping a bro. No one will ever know, I swear. And… fuck, you were incredible yesterday. You saved me. You can’t leave me like this, not now.”

Luca felt trapped, the shame of yesterday mixing with guilt. “Marco, please, don’t ask me,” he muttered, his voice high-pitched. “I can’t. It’s… humiliating.”

Marco stepped closer, his voice dropping to a near whisper. “Luca, look at me. You’re the only one who can get me out of this mess. I don’t want a random chick, I don’t want to fuck things up with Sofia. I’m begging you. One more time, to help me. I promise I’ll try not to cum in your mouth, okay? I’ll pull out first. But… fuck, do it for me.”

Luca closed his eyes, his heart pounding. His loyalty to Marco, the fear of letting him down, was breaking him. After a silence that felt like forever, he looked down. “Fuck… okay. But this is the last time, got it? Swear it.”

Marco nodded, hiding a smirk. “I swear, bro. You’re a god.”

Marco sat back on the bench, unzipping his shorts. His cock, already rock-hard, jutted out like a pole. Luca knelt, his face red, his blue eyes full of shame. The humiliation hit him like a wave as he leaned in, the memory of yesterday burning inside. I’m doing it again, he thought, disgust tightening his throat. He took Marco’s cock in his hand, the heat and hardness a brutal reminder of everything he wanted to forget. It was massive, heavy, an imposing presence in his trembling hand. The skin was taut, smooth, with bulging veins pulsing faintly under his fingers. The head, swollen and glistening, loomed like a threat, an unavoidable invitation Luca couldn’t escape. Every inch he lowered his face toward that cock, the heat intensified, Marco’s musky scent flooding his senses. The length seemed endless, a rigid shaft standing like a totem, ready to dominate him. Luca’s heart raced, shame mixing with a strange, unspoken curiosity as the head drew closer to his lips.

With a shaky breath, he took it in his mouth, the salty taste hitting him like a punch. Marco groaned, a low, satisfied sound. “Fuck, Luca, yeah, like that.” His hands settled on Luca’s head, guiding him with a slow, deliberate rhythm. This time, Marco wanted to stretch out the pleasure, make it last. He made Luca bob on his cock, pushing gently, letting him adjust. “Easy, bro, do it right,” he murmured, his voice thick with control.

Luca struggled to breathe, gagging whenever the cock went too deep. The shame was devouring him. I’m sucking my friend’s dick… again, he thought, disgust twisting his stomach. But Marco gave him no reprieve, pushing deeper, inch by inch. When the tip hit his throat, Luca coughed, his eyes filling with tears, but Marco held him steady.

“Breathe through your nose, bro,” Marco said, his voice calm but commanding. “You’re fucking perfect.”

Luca found himself inches from Marco’s chiseled abs, his balls brushing against his chin. The sensation of having the cock buried in his throat was suffocating, humiliating. Marco held him there, dragging out the moment, then pulled back, only to push in again. The rhythm was slow, deliberate, as if he wanted Luca to get used to it, to accept it.

At one point, Marco stopped Luca, pulling his cock out of his mouth. Luca gasped, his face smeared with spit, his breathing ragged. “Hold up, bro,” Marco said, his voice low, almost hypnotic. “I love it when Sofia does this thing… licks my whole cock, like it’s a fucking lollipop. Her rough tongue running up and down the shaft, teasing it… fuck, it drives me wild. Can you do that? Just a bit, to make it perfect.”

Luca’s eyes widened, his stomach churning with disgust. He saw himself like one of those pornstars he’d watched, the girls licking their partners’ dicks with exaggerated moans. “Marco, fuck, no,” he stammered, shaking his head. “It’s too much, I can’t. I just want to get this over with.”

Marco tilted his head, his tone turning pleading. Hit the guilt trip. “Come on, Luca, you’re already here, helping me out. It’s just a small thing, bro. Don’t you want me to enjoy it properly? You’re my best friend, man. Do it for me, please.”

Luca felt choked by shame. I’m already doing this shit, he thought, what’s the difference? But the idea of licking Marco’s cock like a pornstar made his skin crawl. With a lump in his throat, he nodded, his face burning. He gripped Marco’s cock, the heat searing his hand, and started licking. His tongue ran along the shaft, the taut skin hot under him. The salty taste flooded his mouth, and every lick was a blow to his dignity. I gotta finish this fast, he told himself, trying not to think about what he was doing. He licked up and down, spit dripping down his chin, disgust consuming him.

“Fuck, yeah, just like that,” Marco groaned, his voice dripping with pleasure. “You’re a fucking pro, Luca.”

After what felt like an eternity to Luca, Marco stopped him again, pulling his cock away from his face. Luca, confused but relieved, looked up. Marco seemed aroused, his breathing heavy, but there was a desperate glint in his eyes. Luca’s face, smeared with spit and precum, was a mess. “What’s wrong?” he asked, his voice hoarse. “I did what you asked. Why that face?”

Marco, like a seasoned actor, played his trump card. “Fuck, Luca, I was about to cum,” he said, his voice shaking, perfectly calculated. “I promised I wouldn’t cum in your mouth, so I stopped you. But… fuck, now it’s worse than before. I’m so fucking horny, and I can’t empty my balls. I don’t know what I’m gonna do, bro.” As he spoke, he stood slowly, grabbing his still-hard cock and starting to tuck it back into his boxers and shorts. Every move was deliberate, paired with grimaces of fake pain, as if his dick was too sensitive to touch. “Thanks anyway for what you did,” he continued, his voice breaking. “But now… I don’t know what to do, where to go.”

Marco stepped closer and grabbed Luca’s arm, still kneeling, helping him up. Then he pulled him into a hug, a gesture that seemed like genuine gratitude but masked his calculated frustration. “You’re the best friend ever, Luca,” he said, holding him tight. “No one could ask for more from a bro.”

Luca was torn. On one hand, he felt sorry for Marco, understanding his frustration, his “desperation” in a way. On the other, he was relieved to be done, but the disgust of what he’d done—the taste of Marco’s cock still in his mouth, the thought of cum he might have to swallow again—made him shudder. Yet, Marco’s drama, his empathy, was pulling him into a spiral. He couldn’t leave him like this, not after everything he’d already done. With a lump in his throat, he pulled back from the hug and looked at Marco, his face still smeared. “Listen, Marco,” he said, his voice shaky, “I want to help you, but… taking your cum in my mouth is fucking gross. But… if there’s really no other way, I could… I don’t know, try to keep going with the blowjob. Maybe you cum in my mouth, and I spit it out. Fuck, it’s disgusting to even say, but if it’s to help you, I’ll try.”

Marco pulled back, his eyes lighting up like Luca was the sun. Inside, he was euphoric: he’d gotten Luca exactly where he wanted. “Fuck, bro,” he said, his voice full of fake gratitude. “You don’t know what a mess you’re fixing. You’re saving my life, man. You’ll take my cum in your mouth? You’re a fucking hero, bro.”

Marco sat back on the bench, pulling out his cock again, now even harder, slick with Luca’s fluids. Luca, his heart pounding, knelt again, shame choking him. He took the cock in his mouth, wet and slippery, and started a fast blowjob, hoping to end it quickly. But Marco had other plans. In his mind, he was already orchestrating the climax. He had no intention of letting Luca spit out his cum. No, the thought of Luca’s throat swallowing his load was too fucking hot. He’d devised a plan: when he felt the orgasm coming, he’d stand up suddenly, holding Luca’s head and shoving his cock down his throat, pretending to “trip.” That way, his cum would go straight to Luca’s stomach, and he’d come out clean, like it was an accident. For Luca, it’d be his second blowjob with a swallow, and Marco knew each time would bind him tighter.

Luca sucked, his pace frantic, disgust burning inside. Marco groaned, dragging out the pleasure, his hands guiding Luca’s head. “Fuck, bro, you’re perfect,” he murmured, his voice thick with control. When he felt the orgasm nearing, he executed his plan. “Oh, fuck, Luca, I’m there…” he grunted, standing abruptly from the bench. With a quick move, he held Luca’s head firm, shoving his cock down his throat, pretending to stumble. “Shit, sorry!” he said, as his cum erupted, a hot, slimy torrent flooding Luca’s throat. Luca, trapped, had no choice: he swallowed, the bitter taste burning, humiliation crashing over him.

Marco pulled back, panting, his face a mask of fake surprise. “Fuck, Luca, I’m sorry, I tripped! I didn’t mean to, I swear!” he said, raising his hands. But his eyes gleamed with triumph. As he tucked his cock back into his boxers and shorts, his gaze lingered on Luca, still kneeling, his face a mess of spit and cum streaks. Luca’s lips, red and slightly swollen from the long blowjob, were a sight that sent Marco into a euphoric high. Fuck, look at that face, he thought, his mind buzzing with excitement. The stud Luca, the pussy magnet, with my cum smeared on his chin and his lips fucked raw from my cock. It was a vision that thrilled him beyond measure, a living trophy of his conquest. Every trace of cum on Luca’s face, every mark of that prolonged blowjob, was proof of his dominance, his power over him.

“I know, bro, it was a fuck-up,” Marco continued, placing a hand on Luca’s shoulder, his tone laced with fake guilt. “But… fuck, you saved me again. You’re incredible, Luca. A friend like you doesn’t exist anywhere else.” Inside, though, he was laughing. Second round, done, he thought. Soon, Luca, you’ll be mine whenever I want. He had his personal slut, and the game was just beginning.

Luca, coughing, wiped his chin, his eyes red and teary. “Fuck, Marco, you said I could spit it out!” he shouted, his voice broken, his face smeared with spit and cum.

Marco leaned down slightly, his tone warm, reassuring. “You’re right, bro, it was a mess. But that doesn’t change what you did for me. You’re a fucking hero.” He stood, fully adjusting his shorts, and gave Luca a pat on the back. “Don’t worry, this stays between us. You’re the best, Luca.”

Luca didn’t respond, shame consuming him. He felt dirty, used, trapped in a game he didn’t understand. Marco, meanwhile, left the stall with a hidden smile, his mind already on the next move. Third round, soon, he thought. I’m not letting you go, Luca. His personal slut was closer than ever, and every blowjob was a step toward total control.