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Yo, I'm Josh. Big dude, 6'4", built like a goddamn tank from all the lifting and football practice. Coach says I'm a beast on the field, but honestly, most days I'm just trying not to trip over my own feet. People call me a himbo, whatever that means—I'm not dumb, I just... don't overthink stuff. Life's easier that way.
Then there's Alex. My roommate. We got thrown together sophomore year in this off-campus apartment, two bedrooms, one living room, one kitchen, and zero drama. At first, I thought he was kinda quiet. Smaller than me—maybe 5'10", lean but athletic from track. Curly dark hair that always looks messy in the best way, green eyes that crinkle when he laughs at my dumb jokes. And that smile... fuck, it's cute.
But the real problem started about a month in. I noticed his ass.
Not in a creepy way, bro. Just... you can't not notice. It's round, juicy, the kind of bubble butt that fills out his gym shorts like they're painted on. When he bends over to grab something from the fridge, or stretches after a run, those cheeks flex and bounce just enough to make my brain short-circuit. I'm straight. Or I thought I was. But every time he walks by in those tight joggers, my dick twitches like it's got a mind of its own.
I started finding excuses to be around him more. "Hey, dude, wanna watch the game?" "You hitting the gym later? I'll spot you." "Bro, your protein shake tastes like ass—try mine." Stupid shit. But he always says yes, always grins like I'm the funniest guy alive. We started hanging out constantly—beers on the couch, late-night talks about nothing, him in nothing but basketball shorts and a tank top, me pretending not to stare at the way his thighs flex when he shifts.
One night, we got absolutely hammered. It was a Friday, both of us wiped from midterms and practice. We cracked open a case of IPAs, then another, then some whiskey someone left in the cabinet. The room was spinning, music blasting low, lights dim. We were sprawled on the couch, legs tangled, shoulders touching. Normal bro stuff.
Except it wasn't.
Alex was laughing at some dumb story I told about dropping a weight on my foot, his head thrown back, throat exposed. My eyes kept drifting down to his lips—full, pink, shiny from the beer. Then lower, to the way his shirt rode up, showing a strip of smooth skin above his waistband. And fuck, his ass was right there, pressed against the cushion, round and perfect.
My cock was half-hard already, straining against my sweats. I shifted, trying to hide it, but Alex noticed. His eyes flicked down, then back up to my face. He didn't say anything, just smiled—slow, kinda teasing.
"You good, big guy?" he asked, voice low and rough from the alcohol.
"Yeah," I mumbled. "Just... buzzed."
He leaned in closer. His knee bumped mine. "You sure? You've been staring at me all night."
I swallowed. Hard. "Have not."
"Liar." He laughed softly. "It's cool, Josh. I don't mind."
My heart was pounding so loud I swear he could hear it. The room felt too hot, too small. I could smell his cologne mixed with sweat and beer—clean, musky, fucking intoxicating. My dick was fully hard now, throbbing painfully.
"Alex..." I started, not even sure what I was gonna say.
He looked at me, eyes dark and heavy-lidded. "Yeah?"
I don't know who moved first. Maybe me. Maybe him. But suddenly his hand was on my thigh, sliding up slow. I froze, breath catching.
"You've been looking at my ass for weeks," he whispered. "Think I didn't notice?"
I groaned, head falling back against the couch. "Fuck, man... it's just... it's perfect."
He chuckled, low and dirty. "Yeah? You like it?"
I nodded, too far gone to play it cool. "So fucking much."
His hand kept moving, brushing the bulge in my sweats. I hissed, hips jerking up on instinct. He palmed me through the fabric, feeling how thick and long I was—eleven inches, hard as steel, leaking already.
"Jesus," he breathed. "You're huge."
I was shaking. "Alex... please..."
"Please what?" He squeezed gently, making me whimper.
"I... fuck, I don't know. Just... touch me. Please."
He bit his lip, eyes locked on mine. Then he slid off the couch, kneeling between my legs. My brain blanked. This was happening. My hot roommate was on his knees in front of me.
He tugged my sweats down just enough for my cock to spring free—thick, veiny, flushed dark, the head glistening with pre-cum. Alex stared for a second, licking his lips.
"Goddamn," he murmured. "Look at this monster."
Then he leaned in.
The first touch of his tongue was electric. Hot, wet, dragging slow up the underside from base to tip. I groaned loud, hands fisting the couch cushions. He swirled around the head, tasting me, then sucked the tip into his mouth—tight, warm suction that made my toes curl.
"Fuck... Alex..."
He hummed around me, the vibration shooting straight to my balls. Then he took more. Inch by inch, lips stretching wide, cheeks hollowing. He didn't rush—just worked his way down, tongue flat and pressing, until half my length was buried in his throat. He gagged a little, eyes watering, but didn't stop. Pulled back slow, strings of spit connecting his lips to my cock, then dove back down.
It was sloppy. Messy. The wet sounds of his mouth working me filled the room—gluck-gluck-gluck—mixed with my low moans. His hands gripped my thighs, nails digging in, holding me open while he bobbed. Every time he went deep, his nose brushed my pubes, throat fluttering around me. Spit dripped down my shaft, over my balls, pooling on the couch.
I was losing it. Fast. "Shit... gonna... Alex, I'm—"
He pulled off with a wet pop, hand stroking me slick and fast. "Not yet," he rasped. "Want it all."
Then he went back down, taking me deeper than before. I felt the head hit the back of his throat, then push past—tight, hot, rippling. He swallowed around me, massaging the length with his throat muscles. My hips bucked involuntarily, fucking shallowly into his mouth.
He let me. Took it like a champ, eyes locked on mine the whole time—watery, intense, hungry. One hand cupped my balls, rolling them gently, the other stroked what his mouth couldn't reach.
It was too much. The heat, the suction, the way his tongue kept flicking under the head, the sight of his pretty lips stretched around my fat cock. I felt the pressure build, balls tightening.
"Alex... fuck... gonna cum..."
He moaned around me, sucking harder, faster. I broke.
I came with a shout, hips jerking, flooding his mouth with thick ropes of cum. He swallowed greedily, throat working, milking every drop. When I finally stopped pulsing, he pulled off slow, tongue cleaning the head, lapping up the last bits. Then he looked up at me, lips swollen, chin shiny with spit and cum.
I was wrecked. Panting. Staring at him like he'd just rewritten my whole fucking world.
He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, smirking. "Good?"
I could barely speak. "Bro... that was..."
He climbed back up, straddling my lap, leaning in close. "Just the beginning, big guy."
And fuck. I believed him.
–
Chapter 2: Tease and Torture
The next few weeks were pure fucking torture.
After that night on the couch—after Alex swallowed every drop like it was his favorite protein shake—things didn’t go back to normal. They got worse. Way worse.
Alex started teasing me on purpose. He’d walk around the apartment in nothing but tight boxer briefs, the kind that hugged his juicy bubble butt like a second skin. He’d “forget” to close his door while changing, giving me a full view of that perfect peach as he bent over to grab socks. Or he’d stretch in the living room, back arched, ass popped out, pretending he was just loosening up after a run. I’d catch him glancing over his shoulder, smirking when he saw me staring, dick already thickening in my sweats.
I wasn’t innocent either. I started firing back.
I’d come back from the gym, shirt off, sweat dripping down my chest, towel slung low on my hips. I’d lean against the kitchen counter, flexing my arms while I drank water, knowing exactly how my hairy pecs and deep-cut abs looked under the lights. One day I sent him a mirror selfie from the bathroom—cap backwards, arm up, showing off the thick trail of hair running down my chest and disappearing into my low-slung gym shorts. My bulge was obvious, the outline of my eleven-inch monster pressing against the fabric. Caption: “Gym gains, bro. You like?”
His reply came in under a minute: a pic of him in class, legs spread under the desk, hand subtly adjusting the tent in his jeans. “You’re killing me, Josh. Can’t focus.”
We started sexting nonstop. Dirty texts while he was in lecture, while I was supposed to be studying. He’d send me a shot of his ass in the mirror, cheeks spilling out of his shorts, caption: “Miss having this on your lap?” I’d fire back with a close-up of my hard cock straining against my boxer briefs, pre-cum soaking through, “This misses your throat.”
It was constant. Teasing. Edging. But we hadn’t touched each other since that first blowjob. We were both too stubborn, too into the game.
Until one night.
I heard the shower running. Alex had gone in after a long run, door cracked just enough to let steam escape. I was in my room, trying to jerk off to the memory of his lips around me, but it wasn’t enough. I needed more.
I couldn’t take it anymore.
I stripped down, cock already rock-hard and leaking, and pushed the bathroom door open. Steam hit me like a wall. Through the fogged glass, I saw him—back turned, water cascading over his lean muscles, that big, round ass glistening.
I stepped in behind him.
He froze when my body pressed against his—my hairy chest against his smooth back, my thick arms caging him in, my massive cock sliding up between his cheeks. He gasped, head dropping forward.
“Josh…” he breathed.
I turned his head with one hand, fingers tangled in his wet curls, and crashed my mouth against his. It was messy, hungry—tongues sliding, teeth clashing, water pouring over us. He tasted like mint toothpaste and need. I growled into his mouth, grinding my cock between his ass cheeks, the fat head bumping his tight little hole with every thrust.
“Fuck, you feel so good,” I muttered against his lips. “Been dying to get my hands on this ass.”
He whimpered, pushing back against me. “Then take it, big guy. Fuck me. Please.”
I slid my length up and down his crack, teasing that pink, puckered ring. It clenched every time the head kissed it, begging to be filled. I could feel how tight he was—virgin tight. The thought made my balls ache.
“You want this monster stretching you open?” I rasped, voice low and rough. “Want me to pound that pretty hole till you can’t walk?”
“Yes—fuck, yes,” he moaned, bracing his hands on the tile. “Please, Josh. Ruin me.”
I almost did it. Almost lined up and pushed in. But I wanted to hear him beg more. Wanted to see him break.
Instead, I spun him around, shoved him down to his knees on the wet floor. Water pounded his shoulders as he looked up at me, eyes wide and dark, lips parted.
“Open,” I ordered.
He obeyed instantly.
I fed him my cock—slow at first, letting him adjust to the girth stretching his jaw. He moaned around me, tongue swirling, hands gripping my thighs. I tangled my fingers in his hair and started thrusting—deeper, harder. He gagged, spit dripping down his chin, mixing with the shower water.
“Take it, baby,” I groaned. “Take every fucking inch.”
He tried. God, he tried. His throat fluttered around me as I pushed past the back, forcing my way down. His eyes watered, tears mixing with the spray, but he didn’t pull away. He grabbed my ass, pulling me deeper, choking himself on my length.
I lost it.
The sight of him—kneeling, helpless, throat stuffed full of my cock—snapped something in me. I started fucking his face in earnest. Rough. Brutal. My hips snapped forward, balls slapping his chin, the wet gluck-gluck-gluck echoing off the tiles. He gagged hard, body jerking, but I didn’t stop. I couldn’t. I held his head in place, using his mouth like a toy.
“Fuck… gonna cum… gonna fill your throat, Alex…”
He moaned around me, the vibration sending me over the edge.
I slammed in one last time—deep, balls-deep—and unloaded. Thick, heavy ropes shot straight down his throat. He choked, swallowing frantically, but some spilled out, dripping down his chin in milky streaks. I kept thrusting through it, milking every last drop into his greedy mouth.
When I finally pulled out, he was gasping, coughing, lips swollen and red, face flushed. He looked wrecked. Beautiful.
I pulled him up, kissed him hard—tasting myself on his tongue—and pressed my forehead to his.
“Next time,” I whispered, voice wrecked, “I’m taking that ass.”
He shivered against me, nodding weakly.
“Promise?”
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