Beta and He Likes It

"Bro, pass me the ball!" Mark shouted to Mike. Mike kept on running through the field with the ball, ignoring Mark. His strawberry-blond hair was swaying in the summer wind, his shirt clinging to his abs and pecs, and his blue soccer shorts were so high up his thighs it felt like he was running wearing nothing but his boxers. Mike quickly changed direction, running to an unprotected spot to the left of the goalie. He looked like he was about to pass the ball to Mark--he turned towards Mark--the opposite's team defense was blocking him--and he kicked the ball square into the goal. Score!

Later in the team showers, Mark was annoyed. "Mike, why didn't you pass me the ball?"

"Bro, I scored it!"

"But it's a team game," Mark replied.

Mike simply looked back at him, raising a questioning eyebrow.

Mark repeated himself, "Yeah, I know bro, but it's a team game." Mark's voice was weaker by the end of the sentence: "Mike was right," he thought. "He did score, and thanks to him the team won. I don't know if I could do it."

Mike, as if reading Mark's mind, turned away and continued washing himself. The conversation was over. Mike did right.

Mike was elated. He was always good at soccer, and now that he broke up with his ex-girlfriend he was able to dedicate more time to it. He replayed the game in his head as he showered. The wind in his hair, he recalled, as he washed his hair with shampoo that foamed and smelled with mint. Although a senior in college, he still had a baby face, with only a little facial hair growing on his upper lip, which he shaved, and soft, bright, shining blue eyes. He had fuller lips than most white guys, golden skin, and some freckles. He continued to soap his torso. Mike was fairly tall at 6 feet. Playing soccer, he developed a good physique: he wasn't too buff, but he had clear pecs with pink and wide nipples and a hint of a six pack, smooth except for a dirty blond hair between his bellybutton and his trimmed pubes, and some hair under his arms. While generally lean, Mike had a bigger butt because of all the soccer drills. His dick, now soft but extended from the hot water, was hanging below his full balls. When completely hard, it was straight as a nail and just over 7", which Mike took pride in. He loved having a big dick.

Mike fucked. His last girlfriend, Emily, had been his longest relationship yet, and they were together for 6 months. During this time, he fucked her in his dorm room, in his dorm room while his roommate was sleeping, in her dorm room, in her parents house, and in a dressing room at H&M. She wasn't really into public sex, but he was just the kind of guy that looked so sweet and hot at the same time that it was hard to say no to him. Getting caught having sex in public with Mike was more of a thing to be proud of than to be ashamed of. Besides, past girlfriends of Mike went through a lot more than Emily. But Mike and Emily had broken up over a month ago, and Mike hadn't fucked since. Initially it was an inconvenience, but now it was getting worse: Mike was starting to get erections during class or on the bus, and was getting hornier by the day. He didn't like to jerk off because he saw it as demeaning: why jerk off if so many girls would do it for you? Mike stepped out of the shower, taking his time to dry himself off with his towel, happy to give everyone around a look, and then he put his blue boxer briefs, jeans, and his school's sweater and went home.

The next day Mike needed to give a presentation in French class, together with Mark. Mark tried, but he wasn't very good. He pronounced everything like an American and he just couldn't get a grasp on the grammar. In contrast, Mike grew up spending summers in France with his cousins, and, while he had never had formal education in French before this class, it seems like he picked up a lot as a child. This presentation was a piece of cake.

Next were Jack and Nelly. Nelly was a sweet, quiet international student from India, who picked up French really well in college, while Jack couldn't utter two consecutive words in French to save his life. But everyone knew Jack, even though he was a sophomore. Jack hadn't missed a single day at the gym since his freshman year of high school. By now, he was so lean that you could see the outline of every well-developed muscle under his clothes. His muscles were firm and clearly visible, but not oversized. His shirt hugged his pecs, outlining his small pointy nipples, draping over his six pack. His track pants wrapped his waist tightly, and the bottom of the pants was stretched by his muscular calves, exposing his ankles. Jack was short, but what he lacked in height he made up for in appearance: not a drop of excess fat, buzz cut brown hair, piercing brown eyes, a sharp jaw line accentuated by always-well-trimmed stubble. His pale white skin was accentuated by the brown hairs of his beard, on his hands, and well-trimmed brown hairs on his chest.

Jack had a reputation. His dick's length was average, 6" when completely hard, but it curved upwards strongly. Combined with his physique, he was known to make girls cum, and cum hard. He never touched their pussies with his hands. He would never even think of eating pussy. He would let the girl suck on his dick for a bit, and, when it was wet, he'd shove it in her pussy. He'd go not too fast in the beginning, but after a minute or so he'd get into berserk mode. For half an hour, he would piston in and out of her pussy rapidly and non-stop. He might cum several times in the middle, but he wouldn't stop or change his rhythm. His curved dick would massage the clit from the inside of the girl, making her cum repeatedly for over a dozen times throughout this rough, rhythmic fuck. While Mike was the sweet surfer-gone-soccer-player boyfriend with a few kinks, Jack was a machine.

At the end of class the Prof announced new pairs for presentation next week, assigning Mike and Jack to present together. Both were happy: Mike knew that next to Jack his French skills would shine all the brighter, while Jack was happy that someone else would do the work for him, leaving him time to go to the gym and fuck. This is why Jack was a little surprised when at the end of the class he was approached by Mike.

"Hey man! Wanna meet up some time to prepare this presentation?" Mike shot him a dreamy smile.

Jack took a second to respond, so Mike went on, "Maybe tomorrow? I don't have class until noon, so we could just work in my dorm."

"Sure man. Let's do 10am at your dorm. Where do you live?" Jack assented, without much enthusiasm.

"I live in Arcadia dorm, room 405. See you there!"

Another soccer practice for Mike, another gym session for Jack, and 10 am the next day came.

Mike was ready, Jack was late. Mike started researching a topic for a conversation, and, fifteen minutes later, he heard two loud knocks on the door. It was Jack. Mike let him in and they sat next to Mike's computer. Mike was wearing his school's sweatshirt, blue jeans, and his red Converse shoes. Jack wore a thin white t-shirt, and very short soft fabric grey shorts. He doesn't go to the gym in them, but they are good for showing off his muscular legs. Jack wore white trainers.

Mike was typing something on a slide show, while Jack was leaning back in his chair, his clothes stretching around his muscles.

"Jack, what do you think about presenting on the Arc de Triomphe," asked Mike with his most obnoxious French accent.

Jack didn't like that. He didn't like French, French guys, Mike's confidence, and most of all, he didn't like to take part in the work.

"How about you suck my dick instead?" Jack proposed, smirking and with a glint in his eyes. Mike has heard this before. He and his teammates would often talk to each other this way. It was jokingly, everyone on the team was straight to his knowledge. The closest Mike has gotten to any gay experience was jerking off in the same room with another guy while watching porn together on a phone screen during an overnight school trip in high school. But something about Jack looked dangerously serious. Michael ignored this comment.

"Seriosuly, Jack, what do you think about Arc de Triomphe," Mike repeated as Frenchly as he could.

"I'm serious," Jack said, and with a swift motion got up and lowered his tiny grey shorts and his boxer briefs to his knees, exposing his dick and balls. Every part of his body was fit, and you could see the veins on his hip joints. His dick was completely soft, lying on his hefty balls, under a patch of thick but well-trimmed pubic hair.

Mike felt lost. It felt like Jack was the boss, and Mike had to do what he says. Mike understood that he is not obliged to suck his classmate's dick, and that he would never do it. But he also felt like he couldn't resist Jacks words, as he noticed himself shifting from the chair to his knees in front of Jack. At the same time, Jack spread his legs a bit more, showing his small sharp teeth in a dangerous smile, as if mockingly. Mike by now was getting his face closer to Jack's cock, which started to grow, slowly but surely. For a moment, the musk from Jack's genitals hit Mike's face, bringing him back to reality.

"What the fuck am I doing," Mike thought to himself. "I'm the fucking alpha in this school. I fuck. Girls wait in line to suck my dick. I'm not going to suck the cock of some sophomore dude."

But Jack did not lack intuition. Once he saw Mike's hesitation, he quietly but surely commanded, "suck it." As if overcome by a spell, Mike felt a surge of certainty and engulfed the entire cock, mostly flaccid, in his mouth, hearing Jack let out a low groan.

If Mike's roommate were to come and see what's going on, no one at school would believe him. Mike, the gorgeous fuck boy on his knees. Fully dressed, with his pale blue eyes and rosy cheeks, he looked the same as any other day, except that his beautiful thick lips were now wrapped around a cock that was nearing full erection in his mouth. On the receiving end, they would see Jack, whose virile reputation preceded him. Jack, who did not need to do as much as bat an eye to get a female to fall to her knees and start blowing him, was being blown by a dude. And he liked it. He put his hand on Mike's head, holding it tight against his groin. Why did Jack, a straight alpha stud, tell a guy to suck his dick? Was he actually bisexual? Or did he revel in the power he had over others, making even a famous straight heartthrob on campus drop on his knees and worship his cock? Or was he just too lazy to prepare the French class presentation, preferring to feel a hot mouth around his cock?

Jack's cock was now fully hard, its curve hitting the back of Mike's throat. Mike started gagging. Jack held his head tightly to his groin, saying "I will release you in five seconds."

"One." "Two." "Three." Jack looked at Mike's blue, teary eyes, as he waited for a bit before continuing. "Three and a half." Mike tried to pull back, with no success. Jack showed no signs of struggling to keep Mike's head at his groin. "Four." "Five." Jack released Mike's head, who retreated immediately, coughing, his saliva dripping. A second later, Mike was sucking again on Jack's cock. He had never had a dick in his mouth, but his dick was sucked many times, giving him a good idea of what would feel good for Jack. As Mike's mouth and hand were going up and down the curved cock, his body was shaking with agitation. He still couldn't believe the situation he was in. But at the same time, it felt right. He knew he was bringing pleasure to Jack, and that this is what he was good for. Still, he couldn't get rid of the part of him that felt like he should be more dominant; like he should get serviced by Jack, and not the other way around. But Jack's cock was so hard against his mouth, sliding until the entrance to his throat and back out of his mouth again, wiping away any doubt.

Mike snapped back to reality when he heard Jack say something.

"Mmm?" Mike hummed on Jack's dick, again making eye contact with Jack, who was looking at him from above. Jack's brown eyes had not a shred of softness or sympathy.

Like a hunter looking at its prey, Jack peered into Mike's helpless blue eyes and repeated, "Take your clothes off."

Mike stopped moving, keeping Jack's cock in his mouth. He was surprised. Something about this blowjob felt surreal, out of this world. But taking his clothes off felt real. Very real. Like taking off all his clothes in the middle of the soccer team while everyone else remained dressed and looking at him. It made him feel vulnerable. Although he knew his body was the subject of jealousy for many guys across campus who wanted to be more like him, he couldn't feel like his body wasn't soft and feminine next to Jack's. He stood up, releasing Jack's rock-hard dick from his mouth. Although being about to take his clothes off in front of Jake made him blush, he didn't question the order. He pulled off his school sweatshirt, on the way pulling his t-shirt up and exposing his flat, tan belly and the happy trail going from his bellybutton and under his track pants. He threw the sweatshirt on the bed and quickly continued to pull off his t-shirt, while Jake, sitting next to him, was observing every detail: the flat stomach with a hint of abs, the puffy pinkish-orange nipples, all smooth except for the hair under his arms that he revealed as he took his shirt off. Mike hooked his thumbs in his track pants and boxer briefs and pulled them down at the same time, exposing his trimmed pubic hair, hard dick, and puffy, neatly-shaved balls, and fit, smooth legs.

"Turn around," Jake said nonchalantly. His uncircumcised dick, which flared at the tip, was sticking out of loin hard as a rock, strongly curved upwards, wet with Mike's saliva, and with precum accumulating at his purple-red tip, which was almost entirely covered by a thick foreskin. Mike's dick was hard, and it was pretty. Not as pasty white as Jack's, with a small knob. His dick was lighter than the rest of his skin, but still golden, and his dick head pink like his nipples and lips. His pubic hair was tidy and trimmed, and his full balls were hanging under his dick.

Mike blushed harder than ever in his life, but with a steady step he turned around, standing now with his back to Jake, his big bubble butt at Jake's face. Jake noticed that Mike's butt was noticeably paler than the rest of his golden tanned body. From a sitting position, he was able to appreciate how tall Mike was, and how well-proportioned his body was. Masculine but not extreme, at the perfect age of 22, no blemishes, just the right amount of hair on the right parts of his body. Jack was never interested in men, but it was hard not to appreciate Mike's body. Jake, who was sitting fully clothed except for the tiny shorts and boxers at his knees, knew what to do next.

"Fuck yourself on my dick."

Mike was shocked. Protesting wasn't an option, but he also couldn't believe what he had just heard. In high school, he had nightmares where he would get fucked in the ass by the bigger jocks in his grade, but he always calmed himself that it could never happen to him. Now that he was about to get fucked--to fuck himself--, it was like his worst nightmares were coming to life. And at the same time, he was looking forward to it, feeling a kind of pressure in his lower abdomen, like a vacuum that longed to be filled. In any case, under Jack's influence, Mike didn't feel like he could think at length about his actions and what they meant.

As Jack was sitting motionless, Mike, trembling, started to squat backwards unto Jack's lap. He felt Jack's curved dick graze the upper part of his ass, knowing he missed the mark. He raised himself a bit and lowered himself again, feeling his butt pressing Jack's dick into Jack's abs.

"Sorry," he whispered, even though he wasn't usually the apologetic type.

Jack put his left hand on Mike's hip, and with his right hand guided his thick uncircumcised tip to Mike's sphincter, and then removed his hands. Mike could feel Jack hot hard flesh poking at him where he was never poked before. Mike hadn't even experimented with fingering himself, because he didn't see a reason to insert anything in himself. But now here he was, sitting on the tip of Jack's dick, trembling from the physical exertion of squatting backwards like this, from fear and confusion, and from a sort of excitement. One part of him feared the idea of being impaled by another male, fear of the pain, and fear of being beta. The other part, the stronger one, felt an irresistible urge to be used. He noticed his dick was hard and straining forward, pulsing with his strong heartbeat, all 7 inches of it. And he also knew that today he wouldn't get to use this dick much.

Mike started lowering himself, forcing his sphincter against Jack's flared, purple-red tip. At first Mike thought he might be misaligning his ass with Jack's dick and started shifting his position when he heard Jack say "Don't move anywhere, keep on going." So Mike tried harder, only to be absolutely shocked by the pain as Jack's tip popped into his virgin anus. It didn't feel like any kind of pain he had felt before. Pain as hard and bright as metal, knocking the air out of his lungs. Mike was frozen in place with pain, but he was afraid Jack will demand for him to start going deeper. But Jack didn't. Jack could feel Mike's tension by how strongly his sphincter was clenching his dick. Having had de-flowered many virgins before, Jack knew that they are all scared, insecure, in pain, and need time to get used to being impaled on his dick.

Yet ten seconds passed, and then ten seconds more, and after a minute, which felt like eternity, Mike started feeling a small movement from Jack. It was just a tenth of inch that entered Mike, but there was no doubt. Jack was letting off signs that he is ready to get deeper into Mike's hole. Mike lowered himself yet another inch, and involuntarily let out a loud yelp. He was embarrassed by how feminine that yelp sounded. He again froze in place, but Jack didn't wait so long anymore. After ten seconds, Mike felt Jack's big hands on his hips, which roughly slammed him all the way unto Jack's pelvis.

"Owwww" Mike quietly howled, as Jack closed his eyes and relished the warmth around his dick, and the tight anus clenching at the base of his dick. His trimmed thick pubes were scratching against Mike's butt cheeks, and his hands were holding Mike's waist tight in place.

After a minute or so, Jack felt the anus clenching at the base of his cock relax. He took his hands off of Mike's hips, leaving pale handprints on from the tight grip. Mike also started feeling better, and, intuitively, started raising himself and lowering himself back on Jack's dick. The pain mostly went away by now, and, his dick, which lost some of its hardness because of the pain, started rising again, bobbing up and down as Mike fucked himself. Mike didn't feel much pleasure from the fuck, and his thighs were getting sore, but the situation was so erotic. He never knew he had it in him, but he was incredibly aroused knowing that he, at 22, was servicing this man, this 20-year-old sophomore, who was just so much more manly than him, who, despite being younger, was stronger, was more confident, had a manlier body, and had fucked more. Then Mike caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror, and he felt like he was kicked in the stomach.

He was riding Jack's dick as fast as he could, but dread spread throughout his body and tears welled up in his eyes. He felt cold and empty inside, like a part of him was robbed. Without stopping riding Jack, he felt his shoulders shiver and let out a little cry. Immediately, he felt Jack's hands on his shoulders, holding him in place, stopping his arduous self-impaling.

"Turn around."

Mike did as he was instructed. He quickly got up, turned to face Jack, and sat back on his dick. The curved dick hit him differently this time. It was a strange feeling. Mike was diverting his glance to the side, while Jack looked into his eyes fiercely. Mike's face was puffy with tears, and his breathing was labored from riding Jack and from the crying that he tried to suppress. Jack looked at him intently, sternly, piercingly. His brown predatory eyes not showing a glimpse of softness.