As they wandered through the city’s underground art scene, Emily and Ryan stumbled upon a small, unassuming door hidden behind a waterfall of graffiti. The door was marked with a small, discreet sign that read “Eclipse” in bold, black letters. Out of curiosity, they pushed the door open and found themselves in a dimly lit stairway that descended deep into the earth.

At the bottom of the stairs, they entered a world that was unlike anything they had ever seen. The room was filled with people dressed in elaborate latex and rubber costumes, their bodies molded and shaped in ways that seemed impossible. The air was thick with the smell of rubber and the sound of soft, pulsing music.

Emily and Ryan were immediately drawn to the center of the room, where a figure stood on a raised platform, dressed in a full-body latex suit that seemed to shimmer and glow in the dim light. The figure, a woman with piercing green eyes, began to speak, her voice low and husky, as she welcomed the couple to the world of Eclipse.

As they explored the room, Emily and Ryan found themselves surrounded by people who were passionate about latex and rubber. They saw couples engaged in sensual role-playing, their bodies wrapped in intricate, rubber costumes that seemed to enhance their every movement. They saw individuals posing in elaborate, latex outfits, their bodies molded and shaped in ways that seemed to defy gravity.

The couple was approached by a man dressed in a full-body rubber suit, his face hidden behind a mask of black latex. He introduced himself as Marcus, and began to explain the world of Eclipse to them. He told them about the different types of latex and rubber, and the various ways that they could be used to enhance sensual experiences. He showed them the different types of costumes and outfits that were available, and introduced them to the various members of the community.

As the night wore on, Emily and Ryan found themselves becoming more and more entwined in the world of Eclipse. They began to explore the different aspects of latex and rubber, and discovered that they had a deep, sensual connection to the materials. They started to experiment with different costumes and outfits, and found that they were able to express themselves in ways that they never thought possible.

Marcus, sensing their interest, approached them with a proposal. He offered to take them on a journey through the world of Eclipse, to show them the deepest, most sensual aspects of the community. He warned them that it would be a journey that would challenge their boundaries and push them to their limits, but promised that it would be an experience that they would never forget.

Emily and Ryan, feeling a sense of excitement and trepidation, agreed to follow Marcus on his journey. They knew that it would be a journey that would change them forever, but they were ready to take the leap and explore the deepest, most sensual aspects of their own desires.

As they delved deeper into the world of Eclipse, Emily and Ryan found themselves entwined in a web of sensual exploration and role-playing. They discovered new aspects of themselves, and learned to express their desires in ways that they never thought possible. They formed deep, sensual connections with the members of the community, and found that they were able to experience pleasure and pain in ways that they never thought possible.

In the end, Emily and Ryan emerged from the world of Eclipse as changed people. They had discovered a new aspect of themselves, and had learned to express their desires in ways that they never thought possible. They had formed deep, sensual connections with the members of the community, and had experienced pleasure and pain in ways that they never thought possible. They knew that they would never forget their journey through the world of Eclipse, and that it would be an experience that would stay with them for the rest of their lives.

A couple of years ago, I had a student named Alex. VERY handsome, slender, dark (italian), early dark beard for a kid, black eyes, some shiney chest hair coming over the top of his t -shirt. Incredibly beautiful sleek hairy arms. Brilliantly smart, hyperactive, fasttalking. Eyes constantly darting.

We were friends - a drink once in a while. We talked about girls and boys he was into, little affairs he had with both, a little about sex, some sweet questions. He dresses well, always tight clothes, never a hint of a bulge in the tight white jeans he likes to wear. I like him. I like looking at him. He's always avoiding something.

Then he was acting in a show at school - and he's good. Beautiful. In the last scene the lights come up and he is standing center stage in the light, posed like Jesus, arms out, and completely naked. And his dick was enormous. I mean, this unbearably fat dark thing hanging straight down, just thick and weighty and huge. Black hair above it, thin muscled body, huge dark nipples, hairy chest. He's 19. And I couldn't breathe.

I congratulate him on his performance, tell him laughingly what a nice penis it is. And he knows.

Soon after, he was suspended from school for maybe selling drugs. A slippery character. And I'm obsessed by him, his shiney eyes, his fast lying mind, his huge cock, as thick as his forearm.

We write back and forth, as he goes home to Boston for this year. He's working in a restaurant, but writing late at night, he tells me. I look on the internet for his blog, and find it, under another name I knew he'd used. And it's all about masturbation. He fully describes his fantasies - and they are twisted and fantastic - fantasies of showing off that huge thing, of being looked at, of fucking high school girls, of fucking their brothers, hurting them, loving them. He fully describes his big dark dick, it's size and shape. He describes his wiry muscley hairy body. He talks about the hair, when it happened, when it grew. He talks about watching his dick get bigger and bigger as he grew up, how he measured it, pulled on it, looked at it, showed it. When he began to realize how big it was, how valuable. How he photographs it. About where he goes to show it off. About the older woman he wants to put it into, who wants it from him so bad. About the boy he works with who is big, but not nearly as big as he is.

I write to him, trying to get him to talk to me more, not letting him know I've read his stuff. I tell him not to hold back his sexual thoughts, if he wants to share them. That I know what it is to have a big big dick, what the sensation is, the obligation, the need. That he can trust me.

And then last month he came up to visit. He got here late at night. He was handsomer, and broader. His chest has begun to fill out, it has shape. I see his thick niples through the white tee shirt. It's v neck and I see the black hair filling the open space. His arms are thick and hairy and tanned. He's wearing the same white jeans he likes, but this time, amazingly, there is a massive bulge down one leg, the jeans stretching and hugging it. We hug and I feel the cock against mine, these two fleshy masses pushing against each other down our legs. We push against each other and hold each other. And then he shifts a little to push against my cock from the side. We feel each other beginning to getting hard.

He came in, we had a drink, looking each other in the eye, knowing why we were here, but not looking down. We talk about school, about people. He pulls out some weed, we get high. I ask about his writing. I tell him I've found it, read it. He smiles. He slowly gets up and wanders over to my mirror and stands, he looks himself over, and he knows I see his reflection. He puts his hand, finally, on that cock, just rests it there. We're high and it is an amazing moment. I watch, I don't move. He telling me with that hand that he knows I'm obsessed with it, that it's why he's here. But he's not talking yet. His hand moves down his leg, feeling all of its length, touching the tip. He has to bend his back, it's so far down his leg. He knows that move will mean a lot to me. I do that move.

I don't touch myself. He starts to talk. He starts to talk to me about his cock, the one we're both worshipping. He's still facing himself in the mirror, but his eyes dart to my reflection, knowing I'm staring at his. He begins to softly rub it, to squeeze it. It moves, it grows. He tells me he loves it. He tells me all he's wanted since our first class together was to show his cock to me. That he'd always seen mine, from the first day, in my pants, moving during class. That he knew I was big. That he had to show me his more than anything. That he knew what he had, had known since he was fourteen, knew what I had, knew how much we needed to talk about it, to show them, to lay them out, to compare them. And that he had to be bigger than me. That it's all he thought of, was my cock next to his, in our hands, in the mirror. Laying side to side. And that he had to be bigger.

I start to feel mine for him, stand up, walked to the mirror, show it in my gray sweats. It hangs way down my leg. He is riveted. But I'm terrified that he's gonna be bigger. And also thrilled. It's really what I want - a kid to be bigger and fatter than me, to know it. To show me, so I can worship that huge huge thing. Finally, I get on my knees. I look still into the mirror and it is massive, throbbing in his jeans, so tight now I can see the thing clearly. He turns. I put my face on it, softly, my cheek. It's heat is incredible. He starts again to talk to me. He tells me the things people have said about it, where and when he's shown it. He tells me it is huge. And that he loves it. I unzip his jeans. Of course there is no underwear, I see the mass of black hair beneath the zipper. Then I see the top of his cock, thick and buried in hair. I so slowly pull the pants down, seeing a flash of hairy leg, but glued on that hose, that flesh that hangs down, going on and on. He is talking, telling me to love it, wanting me to love it, needing my approval. I am awed beyond belief, this thing I've waited to see, been obsessed by. The thing he's wanted to show me. I pull so slowly, it throbs and pulls, wanting to be free. It keeps going, as fat as his wrist, veiny, fleshy. I pull so far, and there is more of it. A trail of wet streaks on the jeans as I pull past the dripping head. Finally I pull and it bobs free. It is unbelievably big - bigger than any cock I have ever seen. Much much bigger than mine.

I sit back and look at it, for the longest time. He doesn't touch it, doesn't move, doesn't speak. It swings a bit, bobs a bit as it gets even harder. It cannot possibly rise up, it is too heavy. It hangs like his arms at his sides do, dead weight about to move and be alive. And then slowly I look up his sleek and tan body and into his huge eyes. He knows. He's won. I say it. "I worship you". And then he starts to cry. He has won. And he is so proud, so grateful that I understand it all, the huge cock, the feeling of being worshipped, the love. The envy. The pride. I reach out to hold the thing, to lift its incredible weight, to raise it. I hold it in my two hands, I look at it, then look into the mirror. He is watching my face, tears running down his dark cheeks, and I pull gently on the flesh, I squeeze it, just for a moment, and then he suddenly sobs and he moans and he comes. He comes instantly and massively all over my face, crying, moaning. Loving. The first time someone has understood. My face is covered in cum as he falls to his knees, cock dripping and trailing on the floor, and I hold him, and I kiss him. And he collapses into my arms, the cock before us as I rock him to sleep.

Paul spent the afternoon watching football at the local grounds. He liked the game well enough, but what really kept his attention were the muscular young men sprinting around the oval in their tight shorts. Every now and then, one would catch his eye—lean, sweaty, thighs like tree trunks—and Paul would feel that familiar throb of arousal stir below his waistband.

After the match, he ducked into the restroom and noticed something scrawled on the wall that hadn’t been there before. Need BJ. Call 0412 356 789.

His breath hitched. Restroom graffiti had always turned him on, but this? This was something else. His cock swelled instantly, rock hard in his jeans. He looked down at his thick, throbbing member winking up at him, gave it a slow, teasing stroke, imagining the daddy who’d left that message, desperate for a mouth on him.

He saved the number in his phone; his fingers slick with sweat. Adrenaline surged through his body, making his hand tremble so much the phone nearly slipped from his grip. Still, he managed to type out a message: I need a blowjob.

On impulse, he unzipped his jeans, pulled out his aching cock, and snapped a quick photo—thick, flushed, and dripping at the tip. He attached it to the message, hit Send, and stared at the screen for a moment, heart pounding.

As he stepped out of the restroom, he whispered a silent prayer under his breath: Please let him reply.

The reply came almost instantly. Paul’s throat burned, his chest heaved, and the adrenaline-fuelled tremors returned with force. The message read: Need to be discreet. Have a girlfriend.

A moment later, another image arrived—a selfie. Paul’s breath caught. The guy looked to be in his mid-twenties, still in his football uniform, dark hair damp with sweat, a cocky half-smile on his lips. He was exactly the kind of man Paul had been fantasising about all afternoon.

I can be discreet, Paul replied, fingers still shaking.

Within seconds, the next message came through—an address.

As Paul stepped inside, he was immediately struck by the scent of sandalwood and raw armpit musk—it hit him like a wave, masculine and intoxicating.

The young man stood in the hallway, shifting slightly on his feet. “I’m Theo,” he said, his voice low and a little uncertain.

He looked nervous, but his eyes betrayed something else—hunger. He sat on the couch, legs spread just slightly, and the energy in the room shifted. Thick with anticipation. Theo stared at Paul with open sexual longing, and after a brief moment of silence, he gestured for him to come closer.

Paul didn’t hesitate. He moved toward him, already aching to touch and be touched.

Theo placed a hand over Paul’s bulge, slowly caressing it through the fabric. He leaned in, pressing his face to the crotch, inhaling deeply. His eyes fluttered closed like he was high on the scent.

Without a word, he tugged down Paul’s shorts, revealing a damp patch in his underwear where precum had pooled. Theo ran a finger through the sticky spot, brought it to his lips, and sucked it clean—eyes locked on Paul the whole time.

Then, as Paul stepped out of his underwear, Theo snatched them up and inspected the soaked fabric. His tongue darted out, licking the patch greedily, slurping up every drop he could. He inhaled the scent deeply, like it grounded him.

When he looked up again, that same cocky expression from the photo spread across his face—hungry, confident, and ready for more.

Before long, Paul was sitting naked, legs spread wide, while Theo—also stripped bare—knelt between his thighs. He didn’t wait another second. Theo leaned in and took Paul’s cock into his mouth, groaning softly at the first taste.

The sheer size of it made him pause for a moment, precum salty on his tongue. Then he began moving—slow at first, lips gliding up and down the thick shaft, struggling not to gag as Paul’s cock hit the back of his throat. One hand gripped the base while the other gently cupped and caressed Paul’s balls, rolling them slowly in his palm.

“Mmm, yeah… squeeze those balls,” Paul muttered, voice barely more than a whisper.

His eyes fluttered shut as a soft moan escaped his lips—a sound that came out more like a whimper. He placed his hands on Theo’s head, running his fingers through his hair with surprising tenderness, encouraging him, guiding him.

Theo stroked his own cock while he sucked Paul’s, desperate to feed off the moment, to lose himself in it. He kept edging closer to orgasm, dangerously close—but he knew if he came now, it would ruin his rhythm, kill the high he was riding. So, he held back, gritting his teeth, focusing instead on Paul’s growing urgency.

He could feel it—Paul was close. If it weren’t for the fact that Theo’s girlfriend would be home soon, and that he was so fucking hungry for a hot load, he might’ve slowed down, drawn it out. But not tonight.

Instead, he kept the pace steady and deep, bracing himself for that divine moment.

“Ah—yeah, I’m getting close,” Paul moaned, voice loud and raw, eyes squeezed shut, his hand still guiding Theo with gentle, possessive pressure.

Theo just grunted in response, mouth full, eyes blazing.

Paul erupted like a volcano. He let out a series of loud, guttural grunts, his whole body jerking with each pulse. His hand stayed locked on the back of Theo’s head, holding him in place, making sure every thick, hot spurt of cum shot straight into his mouth.

Theo moaned softly as he felt the semen hit the back of his throat—spurt after spurt, salty and warm. His own cock throbbed between his thighs, red and slick from how hard he’d been edging. His abs tensed as he fought the urge to cum himself, his balls heavy and aching from restraint.

He didn’t move until Paul finally slumped back, spent and satisfied, chest rising and falling in slow, deep breaths. Only then did Theo lift his head. His lips glistened, his cheeks flushed, and his toned chest rose with a shallow breath.

He looked up at Paul, eyes smouldering. Then, with a slow, deliberate motion, he swished the cum in his mouth, showing Paul he still held it—and swallowed it in one long gulp, never breaking eye contact.

“I’m hoping we can make this a regular thing,” Theo said, casually pulling his shorts back on as he walked Paul to the door. “I wanna start some kind of… dependency.”

There was a glint in his eye—playful, but with an edge of seriousness that made Paul’s stomach flutter.

Paul nodded, maybe a little too eagerly. “Yeah. Yeah, I’d like that.”

Theo smirked, his bare chest still glistening with sweat. “Good. I like knowing you’ll be aching for it.”

hey all, i remember reading a story about a college swimmer jock and his coach here, it was a younger older story and the user only posted a few parts here and the rest is on their page. i can’t seem to find the user, can anyone help?

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Tied to the bed.. My turn to be suprised !
Discussion in 'Sex Stories' started by jigger, Aug 9, 2024.
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   jiggerSex Lover​

   Joined: Jun 22, 2009Messages: 217
   Aug 9, 2024
   

   It was a beautiful Saturday and the wife and I were just finishing up the lunch dishes, I hung up the dishtowel and stood behind my wife at the sink reaching around her and playing with her ample boobs through her thin summer shirt. She was staring intently out of the kitchen window.
   I looked over her shoulder to see what held her attention and saw the neighbours sitting out on their deck enjoying the sun and a beer. Phil and Olly are 2 college students that rent the house next door and they both were only wearing loose shorts and laying back in their recliners. I had to admit they looked pretty fit, tanned and young.
   
   As I rubbed her nipples she let out a soft moan and mumbled something about being 20 years younger. I said "are you kidding , those guys would cum in their pants if you were to go out in the back yard topless".
   "Ya right" she answered," they wouldn't look at me twice with my greying hair and old lady parts."
   
   You're only 57 I replied and you have a body that most girls half your age would kill for. Besides , I've seen the boys next door watching you doing your gardening and trying to move to where they could see your tits as you bent over. She turned to face me and said "you're shitting me". I groped her lovely ass as I said " no word of a lie and I'm pretty sure they were both adjusting their cocks in their pants as they were looking".
   
   Hmmm she said and then crooked her finger at me to follow her upstairs, I followed like a puppy, watching her ass moving in her silky shorts all the way up.
   
   When we got to our room she walked over to the bed and said " strip mr. remember it's your turn to get tied to the bed". Alrighty I said as I stripped down thinking this could be fun. I remembered the last time when I tied her to the bed and my friends Moe and Mike and I fucked her all afternoon.
   
   As she secured the velcro straps to my wrists and ankles my mind was racing wondering what she had in mind. After I was secured tightly in a spread eagle position she moved up and put 2 pillows under my head so that I was almost upright...."So you can see what's going on " she murmured . She took my flacid cock in her hand and slowly stroked it as it came to life, moving down the bed she sucked it into her talented mouth and ran her tongue around the head a couple of times before almost sucking it down to my balls. My hips jerked at the fantastic feelings this invoked.
   
   All of a sudden she jumped up and said she would be right back and scooted out the door. Here I was with my wet cock pointing at the ceiling wondering WTF. I heard the door close downstairs and my imagination went into overdrive . Was she going to get her girlfriend down the street and give me a real going over like I had done to her? That thought made me smile and my cock bounce a little.
   
   After what seemed like an hour but was probably only 5 minutes, I heard the door open and multiple footsteps on the stairs. My mouth dropped open when my wife walked in followed by Phil and Olly and another young guy that I didn't recognize. Sue walked over to the side of the bed and said "I asked the boys to give me a hand". No one spoke and the boys looked uncomfortable as hell looking at me tied to the bed with my rapidly shrinking cock. Sue said "Oh this is Sam, Phil's friend from out of town" I nodded and Sam, looking at anything but me said gruffly "How are ya?"
   
   Sue realizing what an awkward scene this was , pulled her top off and all three boys eyes went directly to her lovely tits. Hubby is here to make sure you guys fuck me properly, she said as she walked over and started to rub the front of Phil and Sam's shorts. All three guys breathed a sigh of relief as they all started to fondle the various body parts of my wife. Her shorts were soon on the floor as I saw 2 hands on her tits,2 on her ass and a hand rubbing her pussy.
   
   "I knew that your body was awesome" Phil said as he stuck his finger in my wifes cunt. All three pairs of shorts followed Sue's to the floor and and three rock hard cock were released.
   Sue sank to her knees and started going back and forth sucking one and the next while jerking the other two at the same time. Watching this, my pole was again pointing at the ceiling. She released those cocks and pulled a small round table from the corner over beside the bed and lay on it on her belly.
   
   The boys knew exactly what to do, Phil moved behind her and rubbed his cockhead up and down her pussy lips , he didn't waste any time after his cock was coated with her juices he jammed it in to the balls. She grunted with suprise just as Olly presented his cock to her to suck. Before she put it in her mouth she said
   " I have one rule guys... no one is allowed to cum in me, when you are ready to cum it will be in my husbands mouth. He's going to be my cum dump today."
   
   The boys looked at each other and then at me and all shrugged at the same time and went back to working on my wife.
   
   Me however ... my mind was racing...Holy Fuck I didn't see that coming. In all our exploits I've only had a man cum in my mouth once. I'm not sure about this but I'm not in a position to back out, not that she would set me free since I didn't last time when she told me to.
   
   Alright, lets play this out I thought. Only then did I really take a good look at the boys equipment and was relieved to see that all of them were sporting average tools. The biggest was being sucked by my wife and belonged to Olly. It looked to be about 7 or 8 inches and Sue seemed to handle it easily, but she always did.
   
   I was about to find out if I was up to this as I saw Phil stiffen as his frenzied fucking of my wife brought him to the edge.Phil pulled out and came over to the bed and straddled my head, I saw Sam taking his place in Sue's pussy just as Phil pushed his cock past my lips and resumed his pace fucking my face . It only took him about a minute and I was gulping down what seemed like an unending stream of jism.
   
   My wife must have given Olly one of her masterful blowjobs because as soon as Phil pulled his dick from my lips it was replaced by Ollies and he came even quicker than Phil. Almost as soon as the head of his cock was
   in my mouth it began spurting rope after rope of warm cum which I tried my best to swallow but there was just to much at one time and some squirted out around his cock and my lips and ran down my chin.
   
   Meanwhile Phil had moved around and stuck his already semi hard cock in my wifes mouth. As she worked it it came back to rock hardness in no time. I thought "Ah to be young again... I remember being that age when my dick never went down." Sam looked like he was getting ready to spurt and pulled out of Sue's well used cunt and changed places with Olly straddling my head.
   
   Olly moved over to my wife who reached over and began fondling his dick while Phil was thrusting his cock into her gasping mouth. Sam was fucking my face like the pussy he had just pulled out of and soon unloaded his nutsack into my throat. I kept sucking after I had it clean and to my suprise it was hardening in my mouth again.
   
   My wife was rearranging the boys and moved the table out of the way so Phil could sit on the carpet beside the bed and called Sam over to face Phil with their legs overlapping and their cocks together. She then squatted down and holding their cocks in her hand she shimmied her hips back and forth until she got both of their pricks started into her very wet pussy.She slowly sank down taking both cocks deep into her hungry cunt. When she hit bottom she motioned to Olly to come fuck her mouth.
   
   Watching this almost made me cum without having my cock even being touched. I knew the guys in her pussy wouldn't last long as she was bouncing up and down on them at a rapid pace as she started cumming loudly. as I suspected, Phil extracted himself and rushed over to the bed to shove his cock into my mouth . He didn't even get a stroke in before he blew another load on my tonsils. Sam was right behind him.."Move it fucker " he told Phil as he hurridly tried to shove his throbbing cock in my face. He didn't make it and started spewing cum all over my face.
   
   As soon as Phil and Sam climbed off the bed ,Olly climbed up and began fucking my sore throat at a rabbits pace and added his second load to my belly.
   
   My wife was laying on the carpet with her chest heaving and her legs quivering as Phil yelled " shit, the girls are supposed to be here in 15 minutes!" It looked like a tornado as the boys ran around pulling on their shorts and running for the door. "Thanks Sue" said Phil as he scooted out the door and as he ran down the stairs I heard him yell "you guys are both awesome" and then the door slammed.
   
   Sue dragged herself up beside me and giggled at my cum covered face as she undid my restraints. I'll bet the girls have an easy time tonight she said. I wouldn't bet on it I replied. My cock was still rock hard and Sue engulfed it in her mouth none too soon because my long awaited orgasm shot into her waiting mouth 30 seconds later. She said "what's next lover?"
   "Let me think about it" I replied

   Click to expand...

For my birthday, I went to a bathhouse in Orlando, Florida called Club Orlando. I had a room and only expected to just lay in bed like usual. But, about an hour and a half into my stay, this cute, skinny latino stopped at my door and just stared at me for a few seconds. He ended up walking away. I positioned myself so that my ass would be shown a bit better from the door. A few minutes later, I see him walk by and he stops at my door again. He shook his head to see if you can enter the room. I nodded to agree and he went right to his knees and started eating my ass. I haven't been eaten out in a few months. The feeling was incredible!
I was enjoying it so much! He stopped, took out his cock and grabbed me by the back of my head and had me gagging on his dick. Then he pulled my head off, kissed me with his tongue deep in my mouth, and spit in my mouth too. I love when guys do that!
We continue this for a few minutes, then he bend over me and makes to sniff his pits. Wow! They were really ripe too! It smelled better than the poppers. He grabbed my balls tight, pulling them, squeezing them and slapping them. This turns me on more!
We do this for about an hour then he eats my ass again. He asks me to fuck and I let him fuck me. So thick and uncut! I made him cum in about 20 seconds because my ass was so tight!
He pulls my head down to the bed under him and cums on my face. He pushes the cum in my mouth, covers my mouth and tells me to eat it like a good boy. When my face is clean, he kisses me and spits in my mouth again before leaving. I laid on the bed and came the biggest load in a couple years! I need this experience again!

Can any of you guys who mostly identify as striaght or curious tell me about the first time you fucked a guy? So far I’ve only ever done Frot and ism insanely obsessed with it. I have a regular abs I’m getting real close to the idea of fucking him but I’m so nervous I’m afraid I won’t be able to stay hard

Hey guys,


I find cruising stories at hostels and gyms super hot, so I dare you to post your best story. Extra points if you have pics or videos about it.

Here's the details of my first time having sex with another boy. Great memories! Also, are we allowed to post pics with our forum postings?

I was 23 my first time. He was 19. It was with a classmate/friend, Jim C. He was a little bit effeminate, so no great surprise when he very nervously came out of the closet to me one night. He was very grateful I didn't freak out. The next night we went out for a late dinner (at TGIFridays I remember!). He was telling me that he'd been attracted to buys ever since junior high school and finally decided to just admit to himself and others he was gay. There was a pause in the conversation at one point and I quietly told him "Jim, we have a lot in common". He dropped his fork and about fell over. After he recovered some composure, I asked if he'd ever thought about having sex with me and he said yes, MANY times. I was secretly very turned on that he thought about me while masturbating. I asked if we could maybe go try it right that night. He suggested we wait a day or two for a better time (we both had roommates) but my adrenaline was running too high. So I convinced him and we decided to go to the office where I had a part time job, it would be empty and dark that time of night and it had a lounge room in the back we could use. On the drive over he asked if I ever thought about HIM when I was masturbating. I was SO nervous (and shocked that someone actually thought I masturbated!) but I answered yes, I did have fantasies about him. He asked what I thought about and I truthfully said I thought a lot about what it would be like to sit and make out with him. He was amazed and said that's the same thing he thought about doing with me. He asked if there were any other guys at school I was attracted to. I said yes and he immediately guessed Todd, my then roommate and good friend. But that's another story I hope you'll let me share later.

We got to my office and went to the back room. It was carpeted with couches, and only a couple of high up windows that let in just enough light so we could clearly see everything. Up to this point we hadn't touched each other at all. He sat down on a couch and I sat next to him, close but not touching. I hesitated for a second but then turned, put my arm around his shoulder and went in for a kiss. Our lips locked in an open mouth kiss, he took my head in his free hand and immediately pushed his tongue into my mouth. WOW, talk about sensory overload. I'd fantasized for years about what it would be like to kiss another boy and the experience was mind blowing! Even better than I'd imagined. We just held that position for a LONG time, the only movements of our bodies were our tongues intertwining. His tongue felt so alive and sensual!

After a while we pulled apart and instinctively we both took our shirts off then went right back to the same kissing position. Only now the sensation was magnified because we could feel each other's bare skin. The feeling of my chest against his, my hand on the side of his bare ribcage, too nervous to move it, such an intense feeling. We just held that position and made out for a long time. His hand started moving around my shoulders and down my arm so I moved mine up and down the side of his torso. He felt amazing, so slim and smooth. I even let my hand move up so my thumb caught a brief "accidental" feel of his armpit hair. I couldn't believe this was happening and it felt so GOOD! We switched positions so I was leaning back into the couch and he was turned to face me. He started running his hand up along my face, neck, and down to my chest. He gently felt my chest, circling a finger over each nipple, then moved his hand down across my stomach. All this while working our tongues as far into each others mouth as we could, both making small moaning sounds. He then pulled his mouth away from mine and looked down to watch his hand as he gently felt the bulge in my white painters pants (I was barely 1/4 hard, too nervous). He softly squeezed my bulge for a few seconds and said "In class there are times when all I could think about was what it would be like to reach over and start feeling your cock." This was all too much but I loved it.

I stood up and started taking my pants off, he did the same. We both wore bikini undies back then, mine were light blue, his were white. We sat back down and resumed making out. Man, the feeling of his full nearly nude body up against mine felt so nice. I remember we didn't let our hands move down to feel each other's bulges but I loved just running my hands up and down his back, side, and shoulders - so warm, lean, and smooth. He had his free hand up cradling my head so I let my free hand move back to his armpit again. I had a thing for armpits back then, they were a mostly hidden, semi-intimate part of a guy's body. I loved catching glimpses up the sleeve of guys I thought were sexy to see how much hair they had. It was a sneak peak into what their pubic hair probably looked like. Jim didn't seem to mind that I was exploring his armpit with my fingers, I loved it.

After a bit we came up for air and he said, "Obviously you want to go first." I didn't object. He pulled his legs up and slipped off his undies while I knelt down on the floor between his legs. THIS was a huge moment for me. I couldn't believe I was going to feel what it was like to take another boys penis into my mouth like I'd been fantasizing for years. I took both my hands and moved them under him so I could cradle his PERFECT ass. For some reason I was too scared to actually look at his cock (it was pretty dark anyway), so I closed my eyes, opened my mouth, and went down. Amazingly, my aim was good and it slipped directly into my mouth. I just froze, didn't move a muscle. He was rock hard and his cock felt so warm and smooth with no scent or flavor that I remember. It just felt and tasted right. He didn't have the biggest cock in the world, in fact it was fairly small, but it was the PERFECT size for sucking - not big and gagging like some can be. It felt really comfortable in my mouth. I could easily take in the whole thing so my nose was buried in his cute little twink patch of pubic hair.

I eventually unfroze and started actually sucking and moving my tongue all over his cock. It was my first time and he twice had to say, "watch the teeth". What did I know? But I was into it!! I don't remember how long I sucked him but after a bit he said "My turn". We switched places and I peeled off my undies while he knelt down. My cock was getting hard by now and he took it in his hand, holding it like a microphone, and without hesitation put his lips around the exposed shaft and cock head. I'd had so many mind blowing sensations already that night but the feel of my cock in somebody else's mouth was too much. I let out the loudest moan of the night, the feeling was indescribable. That "first time" feeling only happens once and it was awesome.

I've gone on too long. The rest of the experience was spent kissing and sucking. I'll never forget the look of watching his face as he ran his tongue up and down the length of my shaft. Or the sound of his moaning when I used just the tip of my tongue to explore the tip of his cock, trying to find his pee hole, and when I did it was also his "sensitive spot". Most of the kissing time was spent either standing or laying with him on top with both my hands cupping and fondling his incredible ass. SO perfect. When he laid on top I liked to wrap my legs around him and since he was taller I could feel the tip of his hard cock nudging up against my asshole.

Towards the "unfortunate" ending of the experience, I told him I wanted him to sit on my face, which kind of shocked him I think. But I begged, saying "Come on! I've always wanted to try that!" So I laid down on my back and he got down to straddle my face. I opened my mouth and planted it directly over his hole. Again I froze, freezing for a second, before sticking my tongue out and flicking it lightly and quickly over his asshole. This REALLY made him moan. I was getting up the nerve to actually take a long, deep lick of his asshole when.....

.....we heard a door slam somewhere upstairs. Crap....someone had stopped by the office for some reason. It was like midnight. We high tailed it out of there. I drove him back to his dorm and he was understandably a little put off that I was so unvocal about things. I was simply too immature (and stupid)(and freaked out at myself) to deal with it so the next day I told him it wasn't for me. What a STUPID lie that was. I masturbated every night for months thinking about the experience. Why didn't I ask him for another chance so we could "finish up"? I SO wanted to taste his cum in my mouth and give him a long, intense rimming. We both graduated and moved on. Sad, really.

Chapter 1: The Gaze

The natatorium was a cathedral of echoes—water lapping, vents humming, the faint splash of a teammate finishing a late lap. I was 19, a sophomore butterfly specialist at State, my Speedo clinging to me like a second skin after a brutal practice. My chest heaved, water dripping from my hair, pooling at my feet. Most of the team had cleared out, but Ryan lingered.

He was our freestyle king, a junior with a body that made you believe in gods—long limbs, cut abs, shoulders broad from years of pulling water. His navy Speedo hugged him tight, the fabric stretched over his thighs, leaving little to the imagination. We’d been buddies since I joined the team, trading jabs over burgers and groaning about 6 a.m. swims. But tonight, something was off. He stood by the starting blocks, toweling off slow, his eyes catching mine in a way that made my stomach flip.

“Nice swim, Jake,” he said, voice smooth as he closed the gap between us. His shoulder brushed mine, casual but electric. I fumbled with my goggles, the straps knotting in my damp fingers. “Thanks,” I mumbled, glancing at the tiles. I’d always noticed him—how could you not? The way his Speedo framed his hips, the flex of his quads when he climbed out of the pool. I’d told myself it was envy, wanting that ease, that power.

He smirked, tossing the towel aside. “Almost had me in that relay last week. You’re getting cocky.” His tone was light, but his gaze roamed—down my chest, over the wet fabric clinging to my groin. My breath hitched. I’d caught myself staring at him too—showers, warm-ups, those moments when his laugh made my pulse jump. I’d buried it deep, chalked it up to team vibes. Now, with him this close, that excuse felt thin.

“You ever think about what else goes down here?” he asked, nodding toward the locker room. His grin was teasing, but his eyes dared me. I froze, water dripping down my spine. “Like what?” I croaked, playing dumb. He stepped closer, his bare toes brushing my puddle. “You know what I mean, Jake.” His voice dropped, and I couldn’t look away.

Chapter 2: The Spark

The air thickened, chlorine mixing with the heat off his skin. Ryan’s hand hovered near my hip, not touching yet, but close enough I felt the promise. “What are you getting at?” I asked, voice cracking. My mind raced—every glance I’d stolen, every time I’d lingered watching him adjust his Speedo. Was he seeing through me?

He shrugged, casual but deliberate. “We’re always here, half-naked, pushing each other. Ever wonder what’d happen if we… pushed more?” His fingers grazed my hip then, light as a ripple, and I flinched—not from disgust, but from the jolt that shot through me. My Speedo tightened, betraying me, and I prayed he didn’t notice.

“You’re screwing with me,” I said, half-laughing, half-pleading. He didn’t laugh back. “Am I?” His hand stayed, firmer now, thumb brushing the edge of my suit. I swallowed hard, eyes darting to his—green, sharp, locked on mine. My brain screamed retreat, but my body leaned in, drawn to the heat of him.

I’d admired him for months—his form cutting the water, the way his Speedo rode low after a swim, exposing that V of muscle. I’d told myself it was normal, guy stuff. But now, with his touch searing my skin, I couldn’t lie anymore. “Ryan, I—” I started, but he cut me off, stepping so close his chest nearly brushed mine. “Don’t think. Just let it happen.”

Then he kissed me. It was sudden, rough—lips crashing, teeth bumping, tasting of pool water and sweat. My hands shot to his shoulders, gripping the slick muscle, and I kissed back, clumsy but desperate. He groaned, low and hungry, and the sound flipped a switch. I pressed into him, our Speedos rubbing, the friction sparking something wild.

Chapter 3: The Play

We stumbled back, hitting a bench, a tangle of wet limbs and racing pulses. Ryan’s hands roamed—down my back, over my ass, tugging me closer. I mirrored him, palms sliding over his chest, tracing the ridges I’d stared at too long. His Speedo strained, and mine matched, the fabric no match for what was building.

He pulled back, panting, forehead pressed to mine. “You good?” he rasped. I nodded, dizzy. “Yeah.” He grinned, then dove back in, kissing my neck, teeth grazing. I shivered, hands slipping lower, brushing the bulge in his suit. He hissed, hips jerking, and I froze—then did it again, bolder. “Fuck, Jake,” he muttered, and I laughed, shaky but thrilled.

His fingers hooked my Speedo’s waistband, tugging it down slow, teasing. I tensed, then helped, kicking it off. He followed, his suit hitting the floor, and there we were—naked, hard, staring. I’d seen him bare in the showers, but this was different. This was ours. He reached for me, hand wrapping around me, and I gasped, grabbing him in return. We played like that, stroking, exploring, every touch a revelation.

“Been wanting this,” he said, voice thick, guiding my hand. “Since when?” I asked, breathless. “Since you strutted around in that damn Speedo after that 100-fly.” I flushed, then smirked, tightening my grip. “Pervert.” He laughed, then kissed me, and we lost ourselves in the rhythm—hands moving, bodies pressing, the bench creaking under us.

Chapter 4: The Leap

The air was heavy, our breaths loud in the quiet. Ryan slid off the bench, kneeling between my legs, his hands on my thighs. “This okay?” he asked, eyes searching. My throat tightened, but I nodded, heart pounding. He smirked, then leaned in, lips brushing me—soft, then firm. I groaned, loud and raw, hands fisting in his hair.

He took me in, slow at first, then deeper, and I unraveled—every nerve screaming, every thought gone. The heat, the wet, the way he moved—it was too much, and not enough. “Ryan,” I gasped, hips bucking. He hummed, the vibration pushing me closer, and I clung to him, lost in it.

When I couldn’t take more, I tugged him up, kissing him hard, tasting myself. “My turn,” I said, voice rough. He grinned, sitting back, legs spread. I knelt, hands shaking as I gripped him. He was hot, heavy, and I hesitated—then licked, tentative. His moan spurred me on, and I took him deeper, mimicking what he’d done. “Fuck, Jake,” he growled, fingers in my hair, guiding but not forcing.

We traded like that—sucking, teasing, learning each other—until the tension broke. He came first, shuddering, and I followed, spilling over the edge with his name on my lips. We collapsed, sweaty and spent, sprawled across the bench, the locker room silent around us.

Chapter 5: The Dawn
Reality hit slow—the cold bench, the faint drip of a shower. Ryan lay beside me, arm over his eyes, chest heaving. I stared at the ceiling, naked, my Speedo a crumpled heap nearby. What had we done?

“Guess we’re not just teammates,” he said, rolling to face me, grin lazy. I snorted. “Yeah.” Inside, I churned—gay? Bi? I didn’t know, but I’d loved every second with him. “You freaking out?” he asked, sharp as ever. “A little,” I admitted. He bumped my shoulder. “First time’s weird. You’ll figure it out.”

“First time?” I echoed. He nodded. “Not mine. Knew I liked guys forever. You’re new, though.” I swallowed. “Never thought I’d… you know.” He smirked. “You do now.” We stood, grabbing our gear, and hit the showers. I didn’t look away this time—he winked, and I laughed.

Next practice, he brushed my hand under the water, a secret in plain sight. I didn’t have answers, but with Ryan, I wanted to swim toward them.

End part 1 of 2.

The bathroom was thick with steam, the air heavy with the scent of lavender soap and wet tile. Karen, a curvy brunette in her late thirties, hummed softly as she scrubbed her two stepsons, Jake and Tommy, in the oversized shower. She’d taken them in after marrying their dad a year ago, and though they were both in their late teens—Jake 19, Tommy 18—she still treated them like her little boys. "Mommy’s gotta keep her babies clean," she cooed, her voice dripping with that syrupy, maternal warmth she’d perfected.

Jake stood on the left, broad-shouldered and quiet, his dark hair plastered to his forehead under the spray. Tommy, slighter and more talkative, fidgeted on the right, splashing water as he grinned at her. Karen’s hands moved with practiced ease, lathering Jake’s back, then Tommy’s, her fingers sliding over their slick skin. It was routine—until it wasn’t.

She’d always been careful not to linger too long, not to *look* too much. But today, as she knelt to scrub their legs, her eyes caught something that made her breath hitch. Jake’s cock hung there, heavy and thick, swaying slightly as he shifted under the water. It wasn’t just big—it was fucking *monumental*, a slab of meat that dwarfed Tommy’s smaller, unremarkable prick bobbing beside it. Her mouth went dry, and a heat she hadn’t felt in years sparked low in her belly.

“Mommy’s sweet boys,” she murmured, her voice catching as she stood, soap suds dripping from her hands. She tried to focus, but her gaze kept snapping back to Jake’s massive dick. She couldn’t unsee it. “You’re growing up so fast, aren’t you, Jakey?”

Jake smirked, catching her stare. “Guess so, Mom.”

Tommy piped up, oblivious. “Yeah, we’re not kids anymore, right?”

Karen barely heard him. Her hands moved on autopilot, washing Jake’s chest now, her fingers trembling as they brushed lower. “Oh, Jakey,” she purred, her tone shifting, thick with something darker. “Mommy’s so proud of you. Look at you—such a *big* boy. So strong, so… well-equipped.”

Tommy frowned, splashing water. “Hey, what about me?”

She flicked her eyes to him, dismissive. “Oh, Tommy, you’re fine, sweetie. Just… stay over there, okay? Mommy’s talking to Jake right now.” Her attention locked back on Jake, her voice dropping to a husky whisper. “Goddamn, baby, you’re hung like a fucking horse. Mommy didn’t know you were hiding *that* under those baggy jeans.”

Jake’s smirk widened, his cock twitching under her gaze. “You like it, huh?”

“Like it?” Karen laughed, low and filthy, stepping closer until the water cascaded over her soaked tank top, outlining her heavy tits. “Mommy fucking *loves* it, Jakey. That’s a cock a woman dreams about. Thick, fat, perfect—shit, I bet you’d split me open with that monster.”

Tommy’s face fell. “Uh, Mom? I’m right here—”

“Quiet, Tommy,” she snapped, not even looking at him. “Mommy’s busy admiring a *real* man. You just… wash yourself or something. Jake’s got what Mommy needs.” She reached out, hesitant at first, then bolder, her fingers grazing Jake’s shaft. It pulsed under her touch, hardening fast, and she let out a needy little moan. “Oh, fuck, baby, look at that. So big for Mommy. You gonna let me play with it?”

Jake leaned back against the tile, cocky as hell. “Go for it, Mom. It’s all yours.”

Her hand wrapped around him, barely able to circle his girth, and she started stroking, slow and deliberate. “Good boy,” she breathed, her eyes wild with lust. “Mommy’s gonna take such good care of you. This fat fucking cock deserves worship, doesn’t it? Not like that little thing over there.” She jerked her head toward Tommy without looking, her focus glued to Jake’s swelling dick. “Poor Tommy’s got nothing on you, baby. You’re a goddamn stud.”

Tommy’s voice cracked. “Mom, what the hell? I’m—”

“Shut it, Tommy!” she barked, her hand pumping Jake faster now, water sluicing over them. “You’ve got a shrimp dick, okay? Mommy’s not interested. Jake’s the king here. Look at this—fucking *look* at it. This is what a real man’s got swinging between his legs.” She sank to her knees, the shower soaking her hair, her face inches from Jake’s throbbing cock. “Mommy’s gonna suck you so good, baby. You deserve it. My big, hung boy.”

Jake groaned, gripping her wet hair. “Fuck yeah, Mom. Do it.”

She didn’t hesitate, her lips stretching wide as she took him in, gagging almost instantly on his size. “Mmmph,” she mumbled around him, drool mixing with the water as she bobbed her head. She pulled off with a wet pop, gasping. “Holy shit, Jakey, you’re gonna choke Mommy with this beast. I love it. I fucking *love* it. You’re so much better than your brother—so much *bigger*.”

Tommy stood there, red-faced and shrinking—literally and figuratively—under the spray. “This is messed up,” he muttered, but Karen didn’t care. She was lost, worshipping Jake’s cock with her mouth and hands, her voice a stream of filthy praise between sloppy sucks. “Mommy’s perfect boy… so thick… gonna ruin me with this… fuck, I need it inside me…”

The shower ran on, steam curling around them as Karen’s obsession deepened, Tommy forgotten in the haze of her lust.

Hello! I want to give you a quick context of the story, I'm a 19-year-old Mexican boy, (I'm an average height of 5'7" approx. I'm thin, very white and with a good butt) I'm in college and a year ago I met my group of friends, I started going out with them to get to know the city and tourist places, then approximately 3-4 months ago one of my friends began to have more interaction with me, it became very strange to me since I thought he didn't like me and that he only talked to me out of politeness and because we had the same group of friends, the He began to tell me more about him, we talked almost every day, we answered stories on Instagram, etc.

Ngl, he's ugly asf, but he has something that catches my attention, he's approximately 5'11" - 6'0" he's very thin, with brown skin and a big nose, well I'll go to the point, last Halloween we went to a party at our university, I was almost the whole party with one of my closest friends and in the end I was with him, after talking for a few hours, the conversation began to escalate with very direct questions hahaha, to the point of asking me what my perfect measurements were in a penis (for someone gay, that a straight boy I asked you That's weird, but I still answered) ngl, I love huge cocks, like 20cm or more (8 inches or more), then I answered him the same, after that I was curious and I asked him how much his cock was, and he said "do you want to see?" I replied that yes and I took it out, he had a black cock, long and thin, his head was pink and with foreskin, they were like 8.5 inches, I think everyone knows what happened next, i sucked it and we fucked the whole party, the next day I thought he wouldn't talk to me back, but he sent me a message, that he was waiting for me on the way out, we went in his car to my house and he fucked me again all afternoon, from there we have fucked almost every day, but now it's more intense, he arrives and stands behind me and hits His bulge against my ass intentionally, or the pink against my arms or legs hahaha, I don't know what to do, I like to fuck with him, but it's very intense

The dorm was a relic of the campus’s past, a concrete box perched on the third floor of a building that had seen better decades. Its walls bore the scars of countless occupants—faded graffiti, chipped paint, the ghosts of posters long torn down. The single window, perpetually jammed half-open, let in the oppressive humidity of late September, a sticky heat that smothered any hope of relief. The air was thick, heavy with the promise of a storm that never came, and the faint hum of a portable fan did little more than push the warmth around in lazy circles. It was Friday night, September 27th, 2025, and the five guys who called this room their weekend sanctuary—Jack, Josh, James, Kyle, and Jordan—had no intention of letting the weather ruin their plans.

They’d been roommates, teammates, and reluctant confidants since the semester kicked off in August, thrown together by the indifferent hand of university housing. Each swore up and down they were straight, a mantra they clung to like a shield, but the past month had woven a subtle web of tension between them—glances that lingered too long, laughs that carried an edge, a restless energy that buzzed beneath their easy banter. They’d spent weeks orbiting each other, testing boundaries without admitting it, and tonight, that unspoken friction was about to ignite. The room was a mess of their lives: empty beer cans stacked in precarious towers, pizza boxes splayed open with grease-stained crusts, a tangle of chargers and socks littering the floor. The fan whirred on, a futile soldier against the heat, as the five of them settled into their usual spots, ready to push the night somewhere new.



Jack, 21, was the unspoken leader, a scally wrestler with a buzzcut so fresh it still smelled of barber’s clippers. His jaw was sharp, his teeth even and white, and his grey shorts hung low on his hips, no underwear beneath, the thin fabric hinting at the curve of his cock with every shift. He sprawled across a battered armchair, one leg slung over the armrest, his socked feet—white athletic socks, grimy from a brutal practice—flexing idly against the worn upholstery. Jack was a force of nature, all restless energy and cocky charm, the kind of guy who could talk his way out of anything or into trouble just as fast. He’d grown up in a rough part of town, wrestling his way out of dead-end prospects, and college was his shot at something bigger. But beneath the bravado, he carried a secret he’d never let slip: he loved feet, especially his own. After matches, he’d linger in the locker room, peeling off his trainers to breathe in the musky scent of his sweat-soaked socks, the damp cotton clinging to his skin. It was a private rush, a kink he’d buried under layers of denial, calling it curiosity instead of what it was. Lately, though, he’d noticed Josh’s eyes drifting to his feet during those moments—quick, furtive glances that sparked something dangerous in him, a challenge he couldn’t resist poking at.



Josh, 22, was Jack’s wrestling teammate, a quieter counterpoint with a broader build and a farmer’s tan etched into his skin from summers hauling hay back home. His dark hair was perpetually tousled, his faded tee sticking to his chest with a sheen of sweat, and his dark blue shorts hung loose, no underwear, the fabric swaying with every move. He sat cross-legged on the floor, back pressed against the sagging couch, his smooth hands—unmarred by the calluses of harder labor—resting on his knees. Josh was the steady one, the guy who listened more than he spoke, but there was a restlessness in him too, a hunger he didn’t know how to name. He’d caught himself staring at Jack’s feet more than once, breathing deeper when they’d strip down after practice, the musk of sweat and worn cotton hitting him like a drug. He’d always brushed it off, told himself it was nothing, but the pull was growing stronger, undeniable. Josh had another secret, one that gnawed at him: a week ago, he’d been heading back from a late-night snack run when he’d passed James’s room. The door was ajar, and through the crack, he’d seen James bent over on his bed, lips wrapped around his own cock, sucking himself off with a focus so intense it was almost holy. James hadn’t noticed him—Josh had bolted, heart hammering, the image burned into his brain. He hadn’t told anyone, but it lingered, a mix of shock and a heat he couldn’t shake, stirring something he wasn’t ready to face.



James, 21, ruled the couch like it was his personal kingdom, a football jock with messy blond hair and a tank top stretched tight over a torso carved by endless drills. His black shorts hung low, no underwear, the fabric clinging to his thighs in the humid air, the outline of his cock shifting subtly as he moved. He was the golden boy, all swagger and sharp grins, the kind of guy who could charm a crowd or piss them off with equal ease. James had grown up on the field, football his ticket out of a small town, and he wore his confidence like armor. But he hid a secret he’d never dream of sharing: late at night, alone in his room, he’d use his freakish flexibility to bend forward and suck himself off, swallowing his own cum in the quiet. It was a ritual he’d stumbled into years ago, a private thrill he guarded fiercely, still calling himself straight despite the act. He played it cool with the others, tossing out jabs and cocky laughs, but the way he watched them—head tilted, eyes sharp—betrayed a curiosity he wouldn’t admit, a flicker of something deeper he kept locked away.



Kyle, 19, sat on a wobbly folding chair near the door, lanky and restless, his brown curls falling into his eyes. His tight green shorts, no underwear, outlined his growing arousal as he stole glances at Jordan, his roommate, who lounged on a beanbag in a tank top and red shorts, also bare beneath, oblivious to the intensity of Kyle’s gaze. Kyle was the youngest, still finding his footing among the older guys, a wiry kid who’d landed here more by luck than design. He’d been a late bloomer, awkward and quiet, but college had thrown him into this crew, and he was still figuring out how to keep up. His secret was a heavy one, buried under layers of shame: late at night, he’d watch Jordan jerk off, pretending to sleep, the soft grunts and rustle of sheets searing into his memory. When Jordan showered, Kyle would spot his cum-filled boxers discarded on the floor—a careless heap by the bed—and he’d pick them up, pressing them to his face, inhaling the sharp, salty scent. The smell would drive him wild, and he’d jerk off right there, adding his own cum to the damp fabric, a secret act that left him trembling with guilt and need. He hated how much he craved it—told himself it was a phase—but the urge was a beast he couldn’t tame, clawing at him relentlessly.



Jordan, also 19, was Kyle’s roommate, leaner than the others with a surfer’s tan and a laid-back grin that masked a quiet intensity. His red shorts hung loose, no underwear, the fabric swaying with his casual sprawl on the beanbag. He’d grown up on the coast, riding waves and chasing sunsets, and college was his first real stab at something beyond the beach. Jordan was easygoing, the kind of guy who rolled with whatever came his way, but there was a sharpness to him too, a depth he didn’t flaunt. He’d noticed Kyle’s odd silences, the way he’d fidget when they were alone, but he’d chalked it up to the kid being shy. He had no idea about the nights Kyle watched him, no clue about the boxers on the floor or the secret ritual that followed. Jordan was content to coast through the semester, cracking jokes and sipping beers, but tonight, something in the air felt different—charged, like a wave about to break.



The night had started slow, the five of them sprawled across the room, swapping stories over beers as the heat pressed in. They’d been at it for hours, the pile of empty cans growing, the room filling with the low buzz of their laughter and the faint tang of sweat. It was Jack who shifted the mood, his voice cutting through the haze like a blade. He’d been nursing his latest beer, foam spilling over his knuckles as he cracked it open, when he leaned forward, elbows on his knees, and grinned that troublemaker’s grin. “Truth or Dare,” he said, the words landing like a gauntlet. “Let’s see who’s got the balls tonight.”



The room perked up, a ripple of energy passing through them. Josh smirked, grabbing a can of his own, the aluminum cool against his smooth palm. “You first, then. Truth or dare.”

“Dare,” Jack fired back, no hesitation, his socks shifting as he flexed his toes, the damp fabric catching the flicker of a dying lamp in the corner. He leaned forward, eyes glinting, daring Josh to push him.



Josh’s gaze flicked to Jack’s feet, a quick, unguarded glance he couldn’t hide. He’d been wrestling with that pull all week, the memory of Jack’s socks in the locker room tugging at him. “Take off one sock—with your teeth—and hand it to me,” he said, voice steady but laced with something raw.



The room erupted—Jordan banging his can on the beanbag, James letting out a sharp whistle, Kyle’s eyes widening as he shrank back in his chair. Jack didn’t flinch. He bent down, grabbed his own ankle, and bit the cuff of his sock, tugging it free with a slow, deliberate pull. The fabric was warm, sour with sweat, and he grinned as he tossed it to Josh, the sock landing with a soft thud on his teammate’s thigh. “Sniff it, mate,” he added, voice rough with a challenge he hadn’t planned, his shorts shifting as he leaned back.



Josh caught it, his smooth fingers brushing the damp cotton. He held it to his nose, inhaled—long and slow, eyes half-closing as the musk hit him, sharp and primal. “Fuckin’ hell,” he muttered, voice thick, a flush creeping up his neck. “You’re rank, Jack.” But he didn’t drop it, just let it rest on his leg, the bulge in his shorts growing obvious, the thin fabric tenting without underwear to mask it. The room laughed, loud and wild, but the air shifted, a new edge slicing through the noise.



“My turn,” Josh said, tossing the sock back to Jack, who caught it with a smirk. “James, truth or dare.”



“Truth,” James replied, stretching out on the couch, his tank riding up to reveal a strip of toned stomach, a faint trail of hair dipping into his shorts, the outline of his cock shifting beneath the fabric. He propped himself on an elbow, grinning like he had nothing to hide, though his secret weighed heavy in the back of his mind.



Josh hesitated, the memory of that night in James’s room flashing—James’s head bobbing, the wet sound of his mouth, the oblivious focus—but he kept it vague, testing the waters. “You got any weird habits you don’t tell us about?”



James grinned wider, oblivious to Josh’s knowledge. “I sleep naked sometimes. That weird enough for ya?” The lie slipped out smooth, a deflection he’d perfected, and the room laughed—Jordan chuckling, Kyle snorting into his beer—but Josh’s pulse quickened, knowing the truth James wouldn’t share. He nodded like he bought it, letting it slide, but the image lingered, a private weight that fueled the heat in his chest.

Tell me

Chapter 1: Takedown Territory

The late August heat pressed down on Westbridge University like a smothering blanket, the kind that made sweat bead on your skin before you even started moving. Ethan Carver hauled his duffel bag up the stairwell of Hawthorne Hall, his wrestler’s frame—five-foot-ten, compact and coiled with muscle—straining under the weight. At twenty, he was all sharp edges: dark hair cropped close to his scalp, a jawline that could cut glass, and arms roped with the kind of strength that came from years of pinning opponents to the mat. His grey tank top clung to his chest, damp from the trek across campus, and his gym shorts rode low on his hips, showing off the V of his obliques. He’d packed light—wrestling gear, a few clothes, some books—but every step felt heavier with the weight of starting over.

“Room 312,” he muttered, glancing at the crumpled housing slip in his hand. His sneakers squeaked on the linoleum as he reached the third floor, the air thick with the stale scent of dorm life: sweat, cheap cologne, and something faintly sour. The door to his new room was cracked open, and a low thump of music—some alt-rock band with a gritty edge—pulsed into the hall. Ethan nudged it wider with his shoulder and stopped dead in his tracks.

Sprawled across one of the twin beds was a guy who looked like he’d been built to dominate a football field—and maybe Ethan’s daydreams, too. Lucas Reid, twenty-one, was a goddamn specimen: six-foot-two, with shoulders that stretched his black Westbridge Football T-shirt to its limits and thighs that bulged against his cargo shorts like they were begging to bust free. His sandy blond hair fell into his face, brushing the tops of hazel eyes that flicked up from his phone and locked onto Ethan with a jolt of heat. A scuffed football sat by his duffel bag, and a half-empty bottle of blue Gatorade rested on the nightstand, condensation dripping onto the wood. He was all lazy confidence, legs kicked out, one arm propped behind his head in a way that flexed his bicep just enough to make Ethan’s mouth go dry.

“You Ethan?” Lucas’s voice was a low rumble, smooth as gravel and warm as the sun outside. He swung his legs off the bed and stood, unfolding himself into a stretch that pulled his shirt up, flashing a strip of tanned abs and a faint trail of hair disappearing into his waistband. A slow, lopsided grin spread across his face, and Ethan felt it like a punch to the gut.

“Yeah. Hey.” Ethan dropped his duffel with a thud, suddenly hyper-aware of the sweat trickling down his neck and the way his tank clung to his pecs. He wiped his palms on his shorts and stuck out a hand, hoping it didn’t shake. “Ethan Carver.”

Lucas crossed the room in two easy strides, his handshake firm. His grip lingered a beat too long, and Ethan’s pulse kicked into overdrive. “Lucas Reid. QB. Good to meet you, man.” He nodded at Ethan’s bag, where a wrestling singlet peeked out. “That all your gear?”

“Most of it. Got a box downstairs with the heavy stuff—knee pads, headgear.” Ethan flexed his fingers, still feeling the heat of Lucas’s touch. “You?”

“Same deal. Pads, cleats, playbook.” Lucas jerked his thumb toward a cardboard box in the corner, taped shut with REID scrawled in Sharpie. He flopped back onto his bed, propping himself on his elbows, and Ethan caught the way his shirt strained across his chest, outlining every ridge of muscle. “Wrestler, huh? You’ve got the build for it—tight, solid.”

Ethan smirked, brushing it off even as his stomach did a slow flip. “And you’re the football god, I take it? Quarterback?”

“Starting second year.” Lucas shrugged, but there was a glint of pride in his eyes. “Led the team to the playoffs last season. Hoping to do it again.”

“Impressive.” Ethan dragged his duffel to the empty bed and unzipped it, pulling out a rolled-up mat towel and a stack of protein bars. He needed something to do with his hands—something to keep him from staring at Lucas, who was sprawled out like he owned the damn room. The guy was a fantasy in motion: those thick arms, the way his shorts hugged his quads, the casual flex of his calves as he shifted. Ethan had faced plenty of tough opponents on the mat, but this was a different kind of challenge.

“So, what’s your deal?” Lucas asked, his tone casual but his eyes sharp, like he was sizing Ethan up. “Hometown? Major? Secret moves?”

Ethan laughed, a nervous edge to it. “Small town, three hours north. English major—don’t ask why, I just like words. And my best move’s probably a double-leg takedown.” He glanced at Lucas, catching the way his lips twitched. “You?”

“San Diego. Kinesiology—figure it’ll help with coaching someday. And I’ve got a mean spiral, but you’ll see that on the field.” Lucas tossed his phone up and caught it midair, a little flourish that showed off his reflexes. “Guess we’re both a long way from home.”

“Yeah.” Ethan unpacked a battered water bottle, setting it on his nightstand. Lucas watched him, those hazel eyes tracking every move, and Ethan felt the weight of it—hot, heavy, like a spotlight. He turned back to his bag, digging out a pair of running shoes, but his mind was already spinning. Lucas was trouble—six-foot-two of tanned, muscled trouble—and Ethan wasn’t sure if he wanted to wrestle him or… something else.

“Ever take down a football player?” Lucas asked, breaking the silence. His voice had a teasing lilt, but his gaze held something deeper, something that made Ethan’s skin prickle.

“Not yet.” Ethan met his eyes, holding the stare. “You offering?”

Lucas laughed, a low, throaty sound that sent a shiver racing down Ethan’s spine. “Maybe. Bet I could hold my own.”

“Bet you couldn’t.” Ethan’s voice came out steadier than he felt, a challenge slipping into it. He turned back to his unpacking, but the air between them thickened, charged with something raw and unspoken.

Lucas kicked off his sneakers, letting them thud to the floor one by one. “We’ll see, Carver. Season’s long. Plenty of time to test you.”

Ethan’s stomach flipped hard. He busied himself with arranging his books—some poetry anthologies, a beat-up copy of On the Road—but his brain was elsewhere, picturing Lucas on the field, all power and precision, or locked in a grapple with him, sweat-slick and breathing hard. The dorm room suddenly felt too small, the twin beds too close, Lucas’s presence too big.

“So, what’s the wrestling life like?” Lucas asked, stretching out again, his shirt riding up just enough to show off that damn V-line again. “Lots of rolling around with sweaty guys?”

Ethan snorted, glancing over. “Pretty much. You spend half your time trying not to get pinned, the other half trying to pin someone else. You?”

“Football’s more… organized chaos. Lot of grunting, hitting, and hoping you don’t fumble.” Lucas grinned, propping his hands behind his head. “But I bet you’re scrappy as hell. Gotta be, with that frame.”

“Scrappy’s one way to put it.” Ethan flexed his shoulders, feeling the familiar ache from his last practice back home. “You’re not exactly built for finesse, though. All brute force?”

Lucas raised an eyebrow, smirking. “Brute force with style. I can be precise when I need to be.”

“Sure you can.” Ethan’s tone was dry, but his lips twitched, betraying him. He shoved his empty duffel under the bed and sat on the edge of the mattress, facing Lucas. The room was quiet now, the music paused, and the hum of the AC unit filled the space. Lucas’s eyes were on him again, steady and unreadable, and Ethan felt a pull—magnetic, dangerous.

“You nervous?” Lucas asked, softer this time, like he’d peeled back a layer.

“About what?”

“College. Roommates. Me.” Lucas’s grin was back, but it was gentler, less cocky.

Ethan shrugged, leaning back on his hands. “Maybe a little. You?”

“Nah., I roll with it.” Lucas sat up, mirroring Ethan’s posture, their knees just a few feet apart. “But I’ll admit, I wasn’t expecting… you.”

Ethan’s breath caught. “What’s that mean?”

Lucas tilted his head, studying him. “Just… you’re different. In a good way.”

The words hung there, heavy and electric, and Ethan didn’t know what to say. He could feel the heat creeping up his neck, the way Lucas’s gaze lingered on his mouth for a split second before flicking back to his eyes. Different. Good. What the hell did that mean?

Before he could respond, Lucas stood, stretching again—God, did he ever stop? —and grabbed his Gatorade. “Gonna hit the showers downstairs. You good here?”

“Yeah. Fine.” Ethan nodded, his voice rougher than he intended. “I’ll unpack the rest.”

“Cool.” Lucas paused at the door, glancing back with that damn grin. “Don’t break anything while I’m gone, wrestler.”

Ethan rolled his eyes, but as the door clicked shut, he let out a shaky breath. He flopped back onto the bed, staring at the ceiling, his heart pounding like he’d just gone three rounds on the mat. Lucas Reid was going to be a problem—a big, blond, quarterback-shaped problem—and Ethan wasn’t sure if he wanted to fight it or lean into it. Either way, this year was about to get a hell of a lot more complicated.

Heads-up: It's a bit aggressive and has a lot of fake cum lube play.

I’m discreet—never fucked in person, just toyed online when I travel. It’s a ritual: I crowdsource gear requests on a burner phone—Snap, Skype, whatever—then order a haul off Amazon. Lately, Grindr’s been my vice, scoping locals on the down-low.
Tonight, I’m naked on my hotel bed, gear sprawled: plugs, dildos, fake cum lube, chastity cage, pup hood, ropes, a 10" ribbed suction dildo, a 12" knotted dragon toy. I’m mid-Grindr scroll when a couple pings me—same hotel, three floors down. They’re pushy.

"Show us," they type.

"Not yet," I reply. "Cam later—maybe."

They send pics—two ripped guys, cocks out. One’s uncut, thick; the other’s cut, veiny—both 8.5" like me. I’m caged, tail plug in, lube dripping.

"Spin," Uncut types. "Ass out."

I turn, tail wagging, hole slick—send a pic of my lower half, captioned "Good?"

"Wiggle," Cut replies.

I sway, tail brushing my thighs, lube trickling—snap a shot from the chest down.

"Stroke that cage," Uncut says.

I drag my fingers over it—slippery—cage glints. Pic sent, face out.

"Filthy pup," Cut types. "Truth or Dare—live."

"Alright," I reply, shaky. "Dare."

"Cage stays. Rub your nipples—slow."

I tease my nipples—soft jolts hit me. Pic sent—torso only, sweat glistens.

"Good slut," they say. "Truth."

"Ever double-teamed?" I ask.

"Loads," Cut types. "Last week, spit-roasted a twink till he was a wet mess."

"Hot. Truth."

"Meet-up virgin?" Uncut asks. "That stash screams whore."

"Just toys," I admit. "Fantasized plenty—wink."

=
"Tease. Dare."

"Cocks—hard—dripping."

They send pics—Uncut stroking slow, a bead of precum; Cut pumping fast, tip slick. My cage tightens.

"Dare," I type.

"Tail plug—deep. Add cum lube—messy."

I squirt a glob—white, thick—over it, shove it in—stretching, squelching, lube splattering my thighs. Pic sent—ass and legs only.

"Fuck yes," they reply. "Dare."

We trade—nipple rubs, me fucking a dildo, lube splashing—until I’m caged, plugged, jocked, dressed, hood under my hoodie, soaked in sweat. They dare me out.

"Bag your gear," Cut says. "Lobby. Pics."

I pack—dildos clinking, lube sloshing—head down. Lobby’s busy—suits, a clerk. I slink to a corner, tail shifting, jeans damp. Selfie—hooded torso, wet patch—sent.

"Vending area," Uncut says. "First floor. Loosen your jeans, flash the cage—quick. Text when done."

I head down—vending machines hum in a nook. A guy’s there; I wait till he’s gone. I unzip an inch, tug—cage glints—snap a pic from the waist down, zip up fast as footsteps echo. "Done," I text, fake-browsing, lube seeping.

"Outside," Cut says. "Block walk."

Thirty minutes—tail teasing, jeans sticking. Pics of my lower shadow, a slick streak on my leg—face out. Back in my room, I’m buzzing.

"Dare," I type, elevator dinging.

"1294," they say. "Photo our door."

My gut twists.

"Mmm," I stall.

"Now, pup," Uncut types.

Steps from my room, I turn back. Elevator—two strangers. I press 12, drop my phone—fuck—scramble, hood slipping. 15th floor, one exits. 12th, I’m out, legs shaky. Sign points right. I creep.

At 1292, I pull my pup hood—black, snouty, wet from my bag. No one. I slip it on, hoodie up—face hidden. 1294 looms. Phone out—a shuffle. Door flies open. Hands yank me in, slam it shut.

Clothes shredded—jock clings, bag thuds. I’m on my knees, carpet soft, lube dripping. Uncut towers, cock throbbing, tip glistening.
"I’m Truth," he says, low. He nods to the bed. "That’s Dare. You’re Boy."

Dare’s cut, sprawled, stroking—grinning, head slick.

"Door’s there," Truth says. "Play? Yes or nod."

I nod, drooling.

Truth rips the mouth flap off. "Knew you’d beg."

I open wide, tongue out, spit dripping. He slides his cock in—hot, salty—I suck, gagging, drool soaking my chin.

"Mmm," he groans. "Lick it—sloppy."

I lap the head, swirl, spit gushing.

"Good whore," Truth says, petting my hood.

"We’ll soak you," Dare says, off the bed.

"Suck it," Truth says. "Deep."

I grip his base, inching down—gagging at three-quarters. His hands cup my head.

"Breathe," he says. "Throat open."

He slides deeper—past it—I’m full, nose in his pubes. He thrusts—fifteen times, slow, drool dripping. He pulls out—slime strings.

"Ass up," Dare says.

I crawl to all fours, tail wagging, lube oozing. He pulls it—cum lube squirts.

"Jock off," he says—wet fabric drops.

"Sit," Truth says. "Show that cage."

I straighten—cage twitching. Truth teases my nipples.

"Edge him," Dare says, grabbing a vibrating wand and 50ml cum lube.

Dare squirts lube on my cage—thick, dripping. He presses the wand—low buzz—I moan, lube squelching. High—ten minutes, I’m writhing, cage slick.

"Throat," Truth says.

I kneel—Truth slides back in—fifteen thrusts, slime soaking. Dare grabs the 10" ribbed suction dildo—slaps it down, lubes it with 100ml cum lube.

"Ass," Dare says.

I lower onto it—ribs stretch, lube squirting—ten minutes, riding slow, creampie dripping.

"Ass up again," Truth says.

Truth grabs a 100ml cum lube launcher—slides it in, pumps—two shots—my ass overflows, dripping.

"Sloppy," Dare says.


"Fill him," Truth says, grabbing the ejaculating dildo—10", tubed.

He lubes it—200ml—shoves it in, pumps—fake cum floods—fifteen minutes, creampie soaking.

"Throat," Dare says.

I kneel—Dare slides in—fifteen thrusts, slime gushing, hood wet. Truth works the dildo—creampie drips.

"Break," Truth says, tossing a water bottle—I gulp, panting, lube dripping. Five minutes.

"Ass again," Truth says.

Truth slides in—fucks through the lube—fifteen minutes, creampie dripping. Dare throat-fucks—ten thrusts, slime soaking.

"All fours—center," Dare says.

I crawl—lube trailing. They Eiffel Tower me—Truth in my throat, Dare in my ass—twenty minutes, cum lube leaking, drool pooling.

"Cage off?" Truth says, dangling the key.

I nod. He unlocks—my cock springs free, tip wet.

"Stroke it," Dare says, squirting 100ml cum lube.

I jerk—five minutes, moaning—Truth stops me.

"Back in," he says, recaging—cock strains.

"Knot dildo," Dare says—9", 100ml cum lube.

I straddle—head stretches. "First knot," Dare says.

I grind—past it.

"Second," Truth says.

I rock—past it, full—ten minutes, creampie dripping.

"Knees," Dare says.

I rise—lube splashes. Truth cums—ropes hit my hood, dripping. Dare unloads—hot, over my chest—lube mixes with cum.

"Good pup," Truth says, tossing a wet towel.

He packs. Dare grabs the tentacle plug—lubed. "One last fill," he says, sliding it in—lube squirts. He pumps it a few times, then pulls it out—cum lube drips down my thighs.

"Done for tonight," Truth says, tossing my clothes—sopping.

"Fun?" Truth asks. "Text us."

I nod, hoodie up, hood off—lube soaks through my jeans. My room—a cum-lube mess. Phone buzzes.

"Not done," they say.

"?"

"Strip. Film your cum."

I uncage—cock explodes. Pumping—thirty seconds, I blast my chest—video sent, face out, just torso and cock.

I'm exhausted, but also getting a megadose of post-nut clarity: guilt, shame, digust, confusion. I collapse—lube seeping from the night’s load, sheets soaked. I pass out, sticky but unplugged.

The next morning I wake up. I check my phone "Good boy. Til next time." the wrote

"I'm in room 1589"

Just to warn everyone, this is a story about a transsexual woman. So if you are not into that you probably shouldn't read the story.

I posted this on Reddit before but didn't have much traction. Decided to share my story here.

This event took place since October. I was studying abroad in my final year. One day, I had to attend an event that was two hours away from where I lived. I reached out to a friend and asked if I could stay at his place, to which he agreed. He had a roommate who I recognized and met a few years ago, though we had only exchanged brief greetings and had very little interaction over the past four years. For context, we all come from the same country so we kinda know each other from meeting through several events with other students from the same country.

Now for convenience, let's refer to this roommate as Z. My friend's room was small and could not accommodate another person, so Z kindly offered me his room for the night. Later at night, I was preparing to sleep on the floor with a pillow, but Z insisted that I sleep on the bed with him. The bed was a single, so it would have been a tight fit for both of us. At the time, I didn't think much of it. I assumed he was just being considerate and didn’t want me to sleep on the floor in the cold. It was winter.

We both fell asleep and I woke up in the middle of the night. TBH I could not sleep well that night. I'm closeted and sleeping next to a guy, a very attractive guy that is (he is very good looking to me) was nerve wrecking. Plus Z was basically a stranger at that point. We had a few small talks before falling asleep but that's pretty much it. I didn't know what went on with my head at the time but it was impure thoughts. Imagine we were sleeping so close next to each other, using the same blanket. My hand kinda went to his dick. Just out of curiosity. I rubbed his dick for a like a min or two. Until I felt that it wasn't right. As I was about to put my hand away, he suddenly grabbed my hand and went "Do you want it?". One thing led to another. We didn't have sex but I did end up jerking/sucking him off. When we were done, he asked if I was okay with everything. I appreciated that he made sure it was consensual between the both of us. But he did say he kinda regretted what we did. He didn't say directly but he implied that we should stay quiet and forget what happened. Post-nut clarity? But it was all a lie because it did not stop there lol.

At first, I thought it was just a one-time thing, like a one-night stand? We'd go back to strangers after that one night. But Z and I started interacting more and hanging out which started feeling like actual friendship. Almost every week, he'd invite me over to stay at his place. During the day, we'd do typical friend things—going to cafes, having meals together, watching movies, even karaoke. When we're away, we'd text daily, send random memes/funny videos. It was the kind of relationship you’d expect between friends. We basically went from strangers to actually best friends since that day.

However, things take a different turn at night when we're together. Sometimes we'd hook up, but other times, we’d just cuddle and fall asleep together. And when we do hook up, it was always Z who did the first move. Like saying he was horny, or he has a boner, or asking me if he could hug me cuz it was too cold. He also got increasingly daring. From just asking if I could jerk him off, to blow him off, to even asking me when can we have sex. He'd ask if there are other things I'd like to experiment with him too.

I of course don't mind it. In fact, I love when he kinda begs for it. But eventually, the lines between friendship and something more intimate became blurry, and the more we hung out, the more I felt conflicted. What's especially confusing is that we’ve never really talked about the nature of our relationship. Like we would hook up on one night and then act like nothing happen the next day and hang out like normal friends. Ask ourselves if we're hungry and up to breakfast or for a coffee.

To make things even more complicated, he’s been in an active relationship with his girlfriend for over a year. Not sure if they are sexually active, but his girlfriend comes for a sleepover sometimes when I'm also sleeping at his house, and whenever she comes, they'd sleep together and I would sleep in another room. I feel a sense of guilt about what's happening between us, and I kinda feel terrible whenever i think of his girlfriend, but I think I'm becoming more attached to him.

The most confusing and unexpected part happened about a month ago. We were just cuddling, like we usually do, when in the middle of the night, I woke up to him kissing me. It was the first time we’d kissed, and it was so intense, so passionate. Before this we only ever mutually jerked each other off or give BJs but never a kiss. And to me, a kiss is something very intimate. We ended up hooking up again that night, but that kiss—it felt like a turning point. Ever since that day, I haven't been able to forget about the kiss.

For the last few months, I convinced myself that we were just friends with benefits, but now, I find myself questioning everything. Does he like me? Is he gay or bi? Or is he just using me for pleasure? As time goes on, I only ever really think about him. On top of that, I'm closeted, and I don't know if I'm ready to come out yet. I'm torn between my feelings for him and my own uncertainty about my identity, which makes it even harder to understand what I truly want or what this relationship means.

We graduated some time after and went back to our home. His house is about 6 hours drive from mine so we haven't met since graduation. But we still talk daily or every other day like usual. Replying each others' Instagram stories, or sending funny Tiktok videos, memes. I miss him though and I wished I had made my feelings clearer before we parted ways. That I actually think I love him. I wonder if he feels the same...

Dennis had bow legs and when we were kids back in North Carolina’s Black Mountains, the other kids used to pick on him endlessly. We used to call him “rain-bow”, “bow-boy”, “bowbilly”, and “The Tin Bow Man”. No one wanted to pick him to play and as we got older, the ridiculing got worse. In retrospect, if he ever forgave us kids would amaze me. Turned out he didn’t.

He had dark blond hair, was taller than the rest of us, with bright blue eyes. Dennis could ride a horse like few others and he spent most of his time as he got older on his family farm. I used to see him out there in the fields on the tractor, on his horse, loading hay, long after the rest of us had finished our chores and played.

I left the farm when I was 19, moved to Charlotte, and forgot all about tall Dennis and his bowed legs until one winter when I was back home for Christmas. I was 24 and met up with some of my old friends at a local juke joint. My buddies and I put away a lot of beer and local hooch. I probably shouldn’t have been driving my dad’s pick-up back to the farm that night but I was more stupid then.

I am 5’9”, a little on the stocky side but strong from years climbing the fields and working on the farm. I have black hair and blue eyes and am pretty hairy. My buds called me “Pretty boy” – which I hated – and had a round, firm, ass I secretly thought they wanted to fuck. My cock is uncut, more thick than long.

So this is a true story that happened in my late teens.

I grew up near a river and boys being boys a group of us use to go skinny dipping. Afterward, we would light a small fire to dry off, often comparing cocks, laughing at the occasional boner or semi one of is would get.

One summer afternoon, it was just me and a mate I’d known since we were kids. We went down to do some fishing, no bites so decided on a swim. As usual we stripped off and went for a swim, it was warm enough that we just chatted on the river bank naked to dry off. He was uncircumcised, I was cut. I’d always found foreskins fascinating since I didn’t have one. He noticed I was looking at his cock, he looked at me while I was staring at it. I asked if it looked like mine under the skin and he pulled it back revealing a slightly pink helmet. It looked cool the way it ruffled back and folded up behind his helmet.

Later that day we chatted about chicks and how far we’d gone, then put some porn on. I had just put some light sports shorts on which did little to hide my now hard cock. You could clearly see the ridge of my glans against the thin fabric. I noticed he was “adjusting” too.

We chatted about if we jerk off much and how much “stuff” comes out. We both agreed it would be cool to see what it felt like having another person jerking our cocks. We decided to play dares.

I dared him to sword fight with me, so we both got our cocks out that were so hard we had to push them down to point toward each other and slapped our helmets together.

Things moved on to touch my cock, then see who could last the longest while we jerked each other off.

As he touched my cock it felt amazing almost out of body. He spat into his palm to add to the dribble of precum and wrapped his hand around my shaft sliding his hand along it. It wasnt long before I shot the biggest load I can remember, most of it shot over his hand and hit his cock, I used my cum to finish jerking him off.

We never thought it was gay or nothing just good fun

(This is Part 2. Part one is here.)



I woke up slowly. My head didn’t hurt but it felt like my thoughts were lagging behind somehow. Probably the third round of scotch was overkill. No regrets.



Right?



I didn’t regret anything…did I?



I opened my eyes wide.



Holy shit. How did that even happen?



My naked body was tangled in blankets with pillows scattered around me. I’d clearly slept quite restlessly, but I barely remembered it. What I did remember was now practically screaming in my brain.



Todd. Naked. Holding my cock. Smiling at me. Holding me. Me holding him.



Fuck.



But he wasn’t there in my room with me, so…so obviously things wrapped up somehow. I remembered his arms around me, his body against me as we stood pressed together in the living room. I remembered we laughed a little. We cleaned up and just stayed naked together.



Right.



That’s why I had the second glass—to stay comfortable with that part.



The third came when I started thinking about my skin too much.



We’d spent a few hours eating whatever we could find that we didn’t need to cook and lounging on the couch. I remembered his loose balls and dick hanging across his leg as he draped himself like a model on the couch. And I remembered him letting me look and me not hiding my gawking.



I kept replaying his eyes fixed on me, that generous, entranced look he’d had. I needed to keep that in the front of my mind as I kept getting flashes of the night and how consumed I’d been by his presence. I had to remember…that he’d felt it too.



I finally threw a leg over the side of the bed and pushed myself upright. Standing, I saw my reflection in the mirror across the room, dimly lit by the morning seeping out through the edges of my curtains. I stopped. I stood and looked.



The warmth of the bed had left me loose and soft. My balls hung generously and my cock was slightly swollen as it always was in the morning. I ran my hands across my stomach, through the dark, coarse hair there, felt the ridge of my muscles and tried to see it the way Todd had seen it. I’d spent so long staring at my body in my life…never with the kind of attention he’d given me last night. Always with scorn or at least a critique. I let my hand down to my balls and tugged on them gently, just breathing with the sensation of my own hand and looking myself over. I almost felt ok with it all for a moment.



I heard a creak and rustle out beyond my door in the living room.



He was awake too.



I hesitated, considering my next move. I could just go out like this. I felt good about how my dick looked at that moment…why not capitalize on it?



And then I considered the possibility that I’d open the door to find him fully clothed and me just naked for no fucking reason. Even with everything we’d shared now, that seemed terrifying enough that, without even negotiating with myself, I had my flannel pants in-hand and was pulling them on quickly. I had a t-shirt nearly on, too, but I stopped.



It wasn’t cold. I didn’t need it. Maybe this time I could just…at least try to be this guy.



Shirtless, with my pajama pants strung loosely at my hips, the vague tops of my pubes even creeping out, I walked carefully over to the door. It wasn’t closed all the way. I eased it open silently with my fingers, just to see what I was walking out to first.



I saw Todd’s silhouette against the early light pouring in through the wide windows beside the fireplace. He looked just like he had last night…that stance, like a statue carved on the spot. He was firm, sharp, solid…and I realized after my eyes adjusted, he was naked. Standing in front of the wall of glass, staring out at the morning, the line of his tapered waist curving with his rounded ass and his broad shoulders gently rising and falling as he just seemed to be taking it all in.



I leaned against the doorframe for a minute and just stared, obscured by the shadow of the alcove.



His hand drifted in front of him for a moment, and the unmistakable rise and fall of his arm drew all of my attention. He turned ever so slightly. Just enough. The line of his rigid cock jutted out from his dark shape. I breathed deeply and rubbed my hand against my chest…to feel my own presence for a minute, or to maybe hope to calm my suddenly racing heartbeat. I watched him move slowly, mindlessly, his hand just rubbing and teasing his dick as he stood.



I let my hand drift down to paw at my pajama pants, feeling my own swelling cock against the soft fabric. I pushed my hand down behind the waistband and squeezed my penis with a downward force that made my glans swell against my fingers. I got very hard very fast.



“Hey,” I heard him say, even though he hadn’t turned around fully still.



“H-hi,” I said, my voice croaking with morning tightness.



“You sleep ok?” he asked, his hand still lazily pulling on his cock as he turned to face me now.



“Yeah, I think so,” I said, my hand still down my pants as I stood up straighter to meet his stance.



“I was worried that the last glass knocked you out,” he laughed softly, his voice still groggy with the morning too.



“No, I’m good,” I said, just letting my eyes wander over his hairy legs, his ass, his rising and falling chest, his draping balls and his erect cock.



He didn’t flinch. He just let me stare at him. He was staring back too. We were obviously tired, slow, easing into the morning—but there was already a magnetic energy emerging. I let it lure me forward and stepped slowly out of the doorframe and into the living room. He stepped toward me, too, holding his dick loosely. We met in the broad rectangle of sunlight that was now warming the floor. I could see him so much more clearly, and I felt the light bouncing off my bare chest just as his free hand came up and stroked my arm softly. He was smiling, but his eyes still looked sleepy.



“Nice way to start,” he said quietly.



“Yeah, it is,” I said.



I felt my pajama pants slip a little more with each motion. My ass was practically hanging out of them. My hand, still dragging on my cock slowly, was also pushing the flannel waistband down with every movement. Finally they just softly cascaded around my ankles and I stepped out of them.



“Even better,” he chuckled lightly.



Our eyes met. I smiled. He just looked transfixed.



To be here, like this, in the morning without the fatigue of the day or the fog of alcohol to soften my attention—it all felt so different than it had last night. Cleaner. Clearer. More focused. Our eyes lingered on one another in a way that seemed to take in everything that the frenzy of the night before had missed. I studied his face, the way his nostrils moved gently as he breathed, the fade of his hair into the stubble that covered his angular cheeks. His eyes seemed to be wandering over my face and beard and chest with the same deeply attuned awareness.



With one hand I slowly stroked myself, and with the other I rubbed and massaged his chest. He breathed heavily, and his free hand wandered up my arm, over my shoulder, to the back of my neck.



And before I knew what was happening, he pulled my face toward his and our lips met.



Oh shit. This was new.



The tip of his tongue met my own for a flash as our mouths locked together more forcefully. My hands went to his waist and held him close. Our cocks bumped against each other as he kept one hand gently on my neck and his other arm slid up my back to guide me in even closer. I felt the scratch of his stubble against my face. I’d never felt anything like that before. It made my cock surge to feel his roughness against my own, and yet also feel his soft, tender lips as we kissed slowly, deeply, breathing together. I heard a small groan swell from his throat as he was methodically grinding his cock against mine.



He pushed himself back for a second.



“Sorry…sorry, man, that was probably too much,” he gasped slightly with a nervous smile. “I just…kind of couldn’t help myself.”



“No, no…not too much,” I said, barely able to catch my breath as I felt my dick brush against his torso. “That was…I liked it.”



“Yeah?” he asked, smiling more widely with relief. “I…I wasn’t sure. But…couldn’t really help–“



I brought my hand up to his face and brushed it against his sharp jaw and the bristling hair there. He stopped talking and just stared into my eyes while I gently touched his stubble.



“This feels nice,” I said. “Different. But really nice.”



I leaned in and wrapped my lips around his again. He sighed heavily into my mouth and let me hug him closer. Our chests merged together as our arms encircled one another.



He laughed into my mouth a little as he leaned heavily against me, breathless and yet also powerful as I felt his muscles barely containing his energy.



“Fuck man,” he breathed, resting his forehead against mine. “I almost did that last night but…I didn’t want to freak you out. Even after…everything else…this feels like…I don’t know.”



“Like being wanted,” I said.



He sighed heavily as he held me close.



“Yeah,” he whispered. “And it makes me feel sort of wild.”



“I like when you lose control a little,” I chuckled, holding his shoulders as we breathed together, our cocks slowly grinding into one another.



He smiled and kissed my neck. Like he had the night before. I closed my eyes and groaned slightly as he gripped me with a kind of strength I could actually fall into a little.

And I could feel that he could hold me—not just a hug, but he could take the weight of me without wavering. That was a new feeling too.



I felt him shift, not pushing but guiding me back gently. I stepped backwards carefully, leaning against his unyielding arms, finding the hair on his forearms with my fingers as I let him release me down on the couch with a cushioned bounce onto my back.



Before I could even speak he was suddenly on top of me, straddling my thighs with his wide knees.



For a moment his hands rested on my firm chest and we just stared at each other. He breathed heavily, looking like he suddenly wasn’t sure if he quite knew how he got there.



“You ok?” I asked with a smile, feeling our leg hair brush together as he looked down at me.



He ran his hands slowly down my chest and over my stomach. His eyes followed his fingers as they swirled gently through my pubic hair and slid down on either side of my scrotum. He pushed his hips forward slightly and let his own balls rest on top of mine as his hands held everything together, our combined heat keeping us soft.



“I just…like to have you close like this,” said Todd. “Your body…your…your attention.”



“You definitely have my attention,” I laughed lightly as our cocks bounced off one another.



“I know,” he said earnestly. “It’s kind of all I’ve ever wanted…from the beginning I think.”



He looked into my eyes and a smile flickered across his face, but I could tell he suddenly felt like he’d said too much. Even now, like this, naked and touching and holding, he looked like he felt exposed.



I let my hands fall and grip his thighs, sliding our hips together firmly. Then with all my might I sat up, my abs tight as I let him shift around until I was sitting upright against the back of the couch and he still straddled me. I wrapped my arms around his waist, our cocks running up and down together.



“Kiss me again,” I said quietly. “Like you wanted to last night.”



His white teeth appeared through his smiling lips and his eyes were bright. He eagerly dove toward me and ran his hands over my smooth head as his mouth crashed into mine and his hips gyrated against me. I let my hands cover his firm ass as we moved slowly together. Our tongues pushed and swirled against one another as the weight of him forced my breath out hard and fast.



Oh.



This is what he meant.



Ok. Wow.



His hands left my head and started fumbling around on the couch for a moment while he refused to take his lips away. Finally I looked out of the corner of my eye to see that he was trying to find the bottle of lube from last night that was sandwiched beneath the pillows beside us.



I smiled in our unending kiss and reached over for it myself.



I popped it open and generously drizzled the shining liquid on our cocks. I closed it and tossed it aside. With my right hand, I wrapped my fist around our penises together, feeling the ridge of his swollen head slip and flick across my encircling fingers as he started moaning into my mouth and pushing a bit more frantically against me.



Holding our cocks together firmly, I humped slowly and deliberately. Todd backed away from my lips finally, his face a little red and his eyes wide. He panted heavily until he finally found the presence of mind to meet my pace. I could tell it was taking him more effort than he may have expected to slow down and stay with me. But as his mouth fell open and his hands rested on my shoulders, I could see he liked the intentionality. His eyes closed for a moment and his back arched as our throbbing cocks glided back and forth on one another, my hand holding them directly together. He took a few slow, humming breaths.



I just watched him.



Felt him.



Let him go wherever he was going for a minute.



His muscles twitched as he moved. His chest kept swelling and falling with a kind of vibration. His hairy, muscular stomach undulated when he pulled and pushed his cock against mine. His hand went up to his head and brushed his dark hair back as he sighed, his bicep flexing a little as his arm moved slowly. I felt my cock swell even more at the sight of his lithe but firm strength. He let himself follow my rising and falling hips, finally opening his eyes as his hands fell back onto my chest and brushed at my nipples gently.



Our breathing was louder, and we were both softly groaning and grunting with each push and stroke together. He kept one hand on my chest while the other slid down and cupped my balls while our penises continued to move along one another in sync.



He let go of my chest and brought his hand down to cover my fist. As we pumped into my hand, for a moment I thought he meant to take over, like he had last night. But instead his hand just gripped over mine, squeezing it to make the friction on our cocks that much more intense.



I groaned as he tightened my hand around our cocks with his own fingers. His other hand came up to encircle my fist now entirely. He held my grip with both of his hands, riding my lap and thrusting while our cocks slid together, faster, with his chest puffed and heaving.



“This feels…so…fucking…good,” he moaned, shaking his head in disbelief. “Whenever I see you like this, I just…it always just takes me in.



His smile flickered and relaxed as his eyes opened and closed while he rocked.



“Ughhhh…yeah, hold our cocks together” he whispered. “I love feeling you like this…”



He squeezed our hands together more as he breathed out his moans. Our balls rolled gingerly over one another as we moved together. I realized the slit of his dick was leaking precum generously, keeping the lube slick and smooth. The way his hands were held together squeezed his arms inward enough to push his pecs out even further.



“Oh god…” he breathed as his movements became longer, deeper, more forceful.



I felt the head of his cock slide along my frenulum rapidly as he was moving now with far more force. I couldn’t help but meet his motion with my own pushing and lunging enthusiasm. The wet, smacking sound of our dicks flying between our joined fists was getting louder and louder. My own cock head was fuller as I pumped as well.



With my free hand I reached up and rubbed his chest, moving all over until my fingers made their way up his neck and I held the back of his head softly. He leaned in with my gentle guidance until our faces nearly touched, his rapid breath against me. Our cheeks met.



“I…I’m gonna…” he breathed.



“Yeah, go, come on,” I whispered.



I pushed my mouth forward onto his as our tongues mashed into one another—thick, wet, firm, pressing together. He started thrusting wildly, moaning loudly while he kissed and sucked on my mouth.



“Fuck…fuck…oh god,” he panted.



He arched back again suddenly, his hands moving to my thighs, his chest broad and open to me as he pumped wildly.



“Oh shit!” I cried out.



I hadn’t realized how close I’d gotten until my body took over—jerking, pulsing, unraveling—as I thrusted more rapidly than he even was.



His eyes went wide.



All at once my hips bucked, my abs clenched, and my eyes went unfocused for a moment when I felt a thick burst of cum explode from my cock inside my hand, rocketing forward and streaming across Todd’s dick and pubes.



“Oh—uhhhhh—fuuuuck,” I breathed as more and more semen poured through my fingers, pushed out and mixed with lube as Todd kept thrusting vigorously.



“Don’t st…don’t…don’t let go,” he groaned as his shoulders started spasming rapidly.



His chest rose and then stayed full for a moment until he fell forward toward me.



“Ohhhhhh….god….ooooooohhhhhh”



His face rushed against mine and our lips met softly while he jerked and twisted and I felt the pulsing of his cock in my hand, against my own slightly softened dick. His cum spilled out, warmly running down my balls.



He fell fully against me and I caught him with both hands, my wet fingers against his firm back. He kept kissing me softly until the deep sigh between us seemed to collapse us both into each other.



Finally, after he seemed to recover his frame of mind, he rolled off me carefully and fell back onto the couch.



The wetness strung out across my leg as he moved to lie limply against the cushions with his arm falling toward the floor.



“Holy shit, man,” he breathed heavily as his firm leg stretched out across my lap.



“Yeah,” I said quietly, slowing my breath and turning to look at him spread out before me. His legs fell open widely as his glistening cock and balls spread across his thigh. It coaxed me in again. Without hesitation I bent and stretched toward him. His arms came up to meet me.



I let him hold me as I laid myself out broadly on top of him for a moment. I kissed his neck as he sighed and his long arms wrapped around me. Our legs entwined as I kissed his shoulders, his chest, his face—slowly, methodically, breathing deeply with each touch. He rubbed my back. Finally I slid limply beside him, between his strong, hairy body and the soft back of the couch. He turned slightly, letting me wedge in as he pressed his ass against my softened cock and the wetness across my torso. He wrapped my arm around him as we spooned quietly on the couch, staring at the morning light growing broadly across the living room floor. He took my hand and held it against his chest and we were just quiet. Together.



* * *

I’ll never forget the night my wife first cheated on me with my best friend. It was a typical Friday evening, and I had just gotten home from work, exhausted from a long day. My wife, Sarah, was supposed to be out with her girlfriends, or so I thought. As I walked into our bedroom to change out of my work clothes, I was met with a sight that would change my life forever.

Sarah and my best friend, Alex, were tangled up in our bed, their bodies wrapped around each other in a passionate embrace. Alex’s hands were all over Sarah’s body, caressing her curves and kissing her neck. At first, I felt a surge of anger and betrayal, but as I watched them, I realized that I wasn’t feeling the emotions I thought I should be feeling. Instead of rage and hurt, I felt a strange sensation of arousal and excitement.

I stood there, frozen in the doorway, as I tried to process what I was seeing. Sarah and Alex were so caught up in their passion that they didn’t even notice me standing there. I watched, mesmerized, as they made love, their bodies moving in perfect sync. It was like I was witnessing something beautiful, something that I couldn’t look away from.

As I stood there, I realized that I had a cuckold fetish. I had always been fascinated by the idea of watching my wife with other men, but I had never thought it was something I could actually experience. Now, as I watched Sarah and Alex, I felt a sense of excitement and thrill that I had never felt before.

Over the next few weeks, I found myself thinking about that night more and more. I couldn’t shake the feeling of arousal that I had felt, and I began to wonder if I could experience it again. I started to explore the world of cuckoldry, reading about it online and talking to other men who shared my desires.

Sarah and I had always had a good relationship, but after that night, things started to change. We began to talk more openly about our desires and fantasies, and I realized that she had been feeling unfulfilled in our relationship. She had been craving excitement and passion, and Alex had provided that for her.

As we talked, I realized that I wanted to explore this newfound desire with Sarah. I wanted to watch her with other men, to see her experience pleasure and passion with someone else. It was a strange and twisted desire, but it was something that I couldn’t ignore.

Sarah was hesitant at first, but as we talked more about it, she began to see the excitement in my eyes. She realized that this was something that I truly desired, and she was willing to explore it with me. We started to discuss the boundaries and rules of our new dynamic, and we decided that we would start slow.

We began by watching porn together, specifically cuckold porn. We would sit on the couch, watching as men watched their wives with other men. It was a strange and surreal experience, but it was also incredibly arousing. As we watched, I could feel my desire growing, and I knew that I was ready to take the next step.

The next step was to find a man for Sarah to be with. We decided to use a dating app, one that catered to couples looking for a third person to join their relationship. We created a profile, and soon we were flooded with messages from men who were interested in meeting us.

We met a few men, but none of them seemed right. They were either too pushy or too shy, and we knew that we needed someone who was confident and respectful. It wasn’t until we met Jack that we knew we had found the right person.

Jack was a tall, handsome man with a charming smile. He was confident and respectful, and he seemed to understand our dynamic perfectly. We met him for coffee, and as we talked, I could feel the excitement building inside me.

As we finished our coffee, Jack leaned over and kissed Sarah. It was a gentle, soft kiss, but it was enough to send shivers down my spine. I watched, mesmerized, as they kissed, and I knew that I was ready to take the next step.

We invited Jack back to our place, and as we sat on the couch, I could feel the tension building. Sarah and Jack started to kiss again, and this time it was more passionate. I watched, my heart racing, as they made out, their bodies pressed together.

As they kissed, I realized that I was experiencing the thrill of cuckoldry. I was watching my wife with another man, and it was exhilarating. I felt a sense of excitement and arousal that I had never felt before, and I knew that I was hooked.

As the night went on, Sarah and Jack’s passion grew. They started to undress each other, and soon they were making love on our couch. I watched, my eyes glued to the scene in front of me, as they moved in perfect sync.

It was a strange and surreal experience, but it was also incredibly arousing. I felt like I was living out a fantasy, one that I had never thought I could experience. As I watched Sarah and Jack, I knew that I had discovered a newfound desire, one that I would never be able to ignore again.

As the night came to a close, Sarah and Jack got dressed and left. I was left alone, my mind reeling with thoughts and emotions. I realized that I had discovered a newfound desire, one that I would never be able to ignore again. I was a cuckold, and I was excited to see where this journey would take me.

I have told this tale before but quite a while ago ...... I was holidaying in Spain when ,having retired early , I got up and went for a pee . Being in a strange room for the 1st night I got my bearings wrong and instead of finding the loo , I left the flat NAKED. My predicament became obvious the moment the flat door slammed shut behind me . I tried everything to get back in without success , when the door to the flat opposite opened and a guy looked at my plight and smiled .

He opened the door wider and said " come in " and my relief was plain , until of course I ended up facing his gorgeous wife who was lying in bed smiling . The guy who. I now knew as Steven said he would go down and get me a replacement key winked as he left the room

Seeing his wife " Julia's body was so unexpected I developed a full blown erection in seconds and tried to hide it , she laughed and told me they were naturists and liked the human body and with that she stripped off too and patting the bed beside her , invited me in .

Two minutes later when Steven came back , he smiled broadly and announced that the office was shut on weekends and that I was stuck with them ...... talk about elation hhhh Steven to my surprise only had a dressing gown on , which was quickly discarded also revealing a nice thick cock which he invited me to admire at close range but after a quick feel I soon found out that Julia called the shots and only allowed him little treats ( of my cock ) she was the mistress She even grasped his hand when she wanted him to wank me off ,or forced his head down to suck me !!!!

God , the things we did in the next 6 days were amazing I only went back to my flat to shower , then dash back with a massive hardon that was a fabulous intro to swinging xxx

as its april 1st i figured i would share a tale of an april fools prank gone wrong, or right i suppose

i have a dear friend, late bloomer when it comes to sex, so didnt realise he had a big dick til he was older

this discovery made him a little unbearable, becoming "the guy with the big cock"

on all his profiles he listed himself as "approx 9 inches" so i hatched a plan, to gently show him while it is great to have a big dick and be proud of it, theres more to life

the plan was to invite him over, suggest we measure him to confirm his size for when guys ask, id tell him he wasnt 9 inches he was 8, april fools it is 9 inches but see it doesnt matter in the grand scheme of things eh

so i suggest we measure him, hes keen, being curious himself about his size, i place the tape measure, then i place it again

my plan goes out the window because the outcome was not what i expected

he was indeed not 9 inches, he was 10

so any plan to deflate his ego was shot, and instead his ego swelled even bigger

he decided to stick to stating his size as "9 inches" to avoid aggro but know the truth inside and ended up pounding me face down ass up