Revenge gone... good?

Keywords for the story: two straight guys, college assistants, college teachers, first time gay, gay sex, first time anal, straight to gay, gay bend, cheating girlfriends, rimming, body size difference, twink, femboy, maid costume, stockings, crossdressing, shy male, submissive male, romantic.

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Revenge gone... good?

The sounds were very telling: moaning and grunting. To be honest, I knew right away what it was. But I was... masochist enough to confirm my suspicions. So I pushed the door open and saw them with my own eyes.

My girlfriend, Stacy, was in bed with some guy. She flinched and looked at me, dislodging from his hard dick - she was just riding. Yep.

"Lane! What are you doing here?!" she screamed, her face expressing a pure state of shock.

"What am I doing in my own apartment?! The question is : what are YOU doing, whore?"

Of course I didn't let her answer because it was obviously a rhetorical question.

Clenching my jaws, I made a 180-degree turn and went out of my apartment. I felt hurt and disappointment, but mostly anger. What a fucking slut!

To be honest... I have suspected it for some time, but what man on Earth wants to be a cuck? So, I kinda... pretended there was nothing to worry about. I trusted her. I believed she deserved it. I repeated that to myself until I couldn't. That's why I went home earlier. I had enough of being lied to.

Not knowing what to do, I went to the grocery store and bought alcohol. Then I still didn't know what to do, so I strolled toward the local college where I was working as an assistant lecturer.

I had keys to the room where I worked with another assistant lecturer, Ryder Tane. I was pretty surprised, the door wasn't locked. I pushed them and went in, finding Ryder there, sitting on his chair with a bottle of alcohol in his hands.

I froze.

He didn't even leap to his feet when he saw me. His face was pretty impassive, his eyes just staring at me.

"Hi, Ryder."

"Hi, Lane."

I gave a sour grin, and pulled out my own bottle, putting it on the desk. "Started without me?"

Ryder shrugged. "It just happened. So, what's going on with the bottle?"

"Girlfriend problem. You?"

"Same."

I moved my chair closer to his desk and opened my bottle. We both put our legs on his desk and leaned back on our chairs.

"So, what's happened?" I asked him, sighing.

Ryder winced. "She left today. Moved out two hours ago. Found a new guy."

I couldn't believe it, so I burst into stupid laughter.

"Seriously? What a fucking coincidence! I just caught Stacy with some jerk in our bed. Half an hour ago."

His eyes went round. "Wow. That... sucks," he murmured and took a sip from his bottle, which had already been emptied by ⅓. "These fucking sluts... And their stupid reasons." He philosophically glanced at the ceiling.

"What reasons did Donna give you? What did she say?"

"Some really unpleasant things about me."

"What kind of things?" I asked, even if I didn't really want to know.

"That I'm boring. And passive. And that I have a small dick."

I froze and glanced at him. Yep, he had to be pretty tipsy already to say this. No man likes to make that kind of confession.

"So how much are you packin?" I asked, not expecting to get the honest answer.

Ryder rolled his eyes. "4'' at best."

I raised my eyebrows, and was stupid enough to blurt out, "I have 4'' flaccid, 7.5'' hard."

The silence was pretty deep now. Yep. So very... tactful thing to say on my side, right?

Not childish at all. The priceless advice: 'How to make a man feel better about himself, after he was dumped'. Fuck.

He looked at me with an expression of hurt and I felt awful. It was such an idiotic thing to say!

"Ryder, I'm such a jerk, I'm sorry, man. But you know what is funny? 7.5 is not better than 4 - because Stacy cheated anyway..."

What was weird, Ryder didn't look angry. Just dejected. He took a gulp from the bottle and stared at the wall in front of us, at the board on which professor Callahan left notes with tasks for us. Because cell phones and Google Calendar were just too... modern for him.

"7.5''? That's massive, Lane. How do you even put it inside? Average female vagina is around 4.5 inches".

Chuckling, I glanced at him. "Massive? You obviously don't watch porn. Everybody is dwarfed by their dicks."

Ryder snorted impatiently. "Stop giving me the example of 0.1% dicks in the world. That's a fantasy."

I shrugged. "It doesn't matter anyway. She still did it. 7.5'' didn't help."

Ryder sighed. "Yep, well. Sorry, man."

"I'm sorry too, about Donna. I'm kind of a jerk, but you're such a nice guy. I guess I will never understand how it works for women."

We both sipped from our bottles for a while with pensive faces. I glanced at him discreetly, scratching my chin.

Ryder was a small guy, 5'4'', so I wasn't that surprised with this cringy news about his small dick.

Yet for some reason, I got weirdly fixated on this info. He wasn't classically handsome, probably "cute" as some women sometimes called guys - just a normal-looking small dude maybe two years younger than me and I was twenty-six. Ryder still had a nerdy student vibe.

He had messy mousy-brown hair that reached his shoulders in unruly curls, a bit weird glasses with a solid plastic rim, and an aquiline nose. His dark-brown eyes had a copper hue, and pretty long eyelashes, which gave him a bit of a girly expression. His lips were small and often pressed together in a tensed grimace. Overall, Ryder looked inconspicuous, with rather plain clothing style; not-so-trendy pants and buttoned down shirts, in brown, olive and sandy hues.

On top of that, he was a quiet guy, but a good listener and... a workaholic. He worked extra hours and was respected among the professors in our college. He was destined to be a professor himself one day with his determination and passion. I admired him as I was much more lazy, but also more cocky, so his gentle personality was complementing mine in a way, and we never argued.

To be honest, I genuinely liked him and loved to spend time in his calming presence.

With what I gathered while working with Ryder the last year, I knew he and his - now ex-girlfriend - have been together for three years, since college. It had to be a pretty hard blow for him, maybe even harder than for me because I was with Stacy for only one year.

But don't get me wrong - I was very invested in Stacy. She seemed so different than my previous girlfriends, more real, more spontaneous and nuanced. But she obviously was messed up... and I could never forgive cheating. I was a firm believer in monogamy.

"I thought we were gonna get married," I mumbled, pouring alcohol in my mouth, not wanting to stay behind.

I already started to feel a slight buzzing in my head. The pleasant feeling of relaxation was taking over me.

"Me too. It sucks, so fucking much..." He nodded, also taking a big gulp of his beverage.

After a couple of minutes spent in a silence full of mutual understanding, Ryder spread his arms.

"Girls are complicated, you know? Every so often I envy gays. With males - it seems much simpler. More peace, more clear situations."

I raised my eyebrows. "Did you ever try it with a guy?"

"Nah, I wasn't brave enough, and... My mom would kill me."

Gaping, I stared at him. It was rather shocking news for me. There was nothing about him, that would say 'gay'. "But did you consider it for real?" I asked cautiously.

He glanced at me, obviously he wasn't drunk enough to be blatant about it. With a hesitant expression, he said, "I don't know. At first, I just lived for so many years totally invisible to girls. I'm not a 6'2'' Chad like you, you know? So, I had these crazy thoughts, that maybe I would have more luck with guys. But during college I met Donna. She was overweight and had insecurities. We hit it off right away, and then I forgot about the... gay idea."

Still staring at him, I bit my lip. "Funny you said that, I had similar reflections but for a different reason."

Ryder turned his head toward me, but I kept my eyes fixed on the board in front of us.

"Seriously?" he asked, "Have you ever had any trouble finding a girl? You are so hot!"

It was a bit weird hearing it from a guy, but it also gave me a weird pleasure, it's obviously better to be called hot, rather than ugly (no matter who says that).

"It's not about that. It was my problem with... communication. I had a couple of girlfriends during college, but I couldn't connect with them. Sadly, I attracted a similar type, with a similar attitude. Almost like they all had the same sort of views. And I liked more open... discussions."

"College education tends to do that. Makes people start to think in similar ways, like an army of drones."

"Yes, I agree!" We exchanged knowing looks, obviously understanding each other.

"So, did you argue with your ex-girlfriends a lot?" Ryder asked.

"No. I wanted my peace. They had this stance anyway 'I'm right, don't even annoy me by arguing'. But it was... making it hard for me to build a true connection, I couldn't fall in love. With guys, it was just different. Simpler. They weren't that... infuriated, when I expressed some unpopular views. They didn't take everything so personally. So, back then in college, I had that thought... maybe I should try it with guys, you know? But I never had the courage to do it. And then I met Stacy. She seemed different, almost perfect. I fell for that - to my demise - and forgot all these thoughts about guys. Perhaps it was a mistake. "

I quickly glanced at Ryder, and... he also glanced at me. We both looked aside, with abashed faces. It was becoming a bit of a weird conversation. We also quickly gulped from our bottles.

"What about sexual attraction? Did you ever...?" Ryder tried to finish the question, but got stuck on this sentence, then took another sip. "You know. Get off thinking about it?"

It was becoming super shaky ground. I was less tipsy than him, so I still had this guarding attitude, not wanting to admit that... But if he had thoughts like that, maybe I shouldn't be scared of being judged?

Wincing a bit, I said, "Don't laugh, but I saw a video clip of one pretty femboy on Pornhub. He was kinda cute... Small and weirdly nonthreatening in his masculinity. I guess it would be something more to my taste."

I was careful not to look at him because I felt his gaze on me, rather intense. I realized I had a pink blush on my cheeks... I knew he wanted to dig even more into that topic, but suddenly his phone buzzed.

What a relief!

Ryder glanced at the screen and said, "Lane, listen, this is not the best place to drink. Someone could see us, and question our moral standards..." He giggled. "Donna messaged me that she just took the last of her stuff and left the key under the doormat. Maybe you want to come to my place, so we can drink in more comfortable conditions?" He smiled innocently.

"Sure," I answered before thinking it through.

So, we wrapped our bottles in paper, and left the room. As we both lived on campus, in a small condominium for college teachers, we headed there on foot.

We changed the topic, this time to our college duties, kinda complaining that during summer break we were virtually jobless and without the students around - our assignments were pretty dull. So, we were just writing articles for journals related to our fields of study and virtually doing nothing more. Life on campus was frozen, waiting for the first wave of students during the fall.

Soon we reached the building where Ryder had his condo. Laughing from something stupidly we wobbled toward his door. Ryder found the key under the mat and we went inside.

He stopped suddenly and glanced around, with a frown.

"Wow, it looks so empty." His voice became kind of shaky for a second. I could see he was fighting with himself - sadness mixing with anger.

"Hey, don't worry. It'll get better." I slumped on the couch and found a remote. Soon I browsed some shit TV series on Netflix and put my legs on his low coffee table.

Ryder sighed and sat next to me with his bottle that seemed almost glued to his hand by now. He took a gigantic gulp and cursed, "Fucking, cheating bitch," he mumbled under his breath. "Can you believe? She was meeting with him for half a year before breaking up with me!"

I patted his thigh, "Don't lose yourself in anger. You'll find someone much better! You're cute!"

And then a weird thing happened... I somehow didn't want to take my hand from his thigh too quickly.

I realized I used the word 'cute'. Wow. He called me hot, right, so I probably wanted to return the compliment in a way. But was it really the whole truth?

Or maybe I ALWAYS regarded him as cute?

My eyes were now fixed on my own hand, lying on his slim thigh in olive corduroy pants. My fingers kinda... made a small, circling motion, without my conscious will. A gentle stroking?

There was sudden silence in the room. Ryder didn't look at my hand, he stiffly stared at the flickering lights on the TV set screen. He didn't react to my compliment and my gesture - in any way.

The silence was becoming longer and longer, and even the amount of alcohol I drank - stopped helping. I knew I needed to take my hand off him. So, I kinda forced myself to do it, even though some part of me wanted to leave it there.

Glancing at his profile, I took another sip from my bottle. I could see his face on the dark background of the window square. It was already late, probably around 10PM, only the faint light of streetlamps was coming in from outside.

Ryder also took another sip. He was at the end of his bottle, I was in the middle of mine by now. We both stared at the screen for a while, and I could swear he was... thinking deeply, intensely considering something, biting his lips. I felt like there was almost a telepathic connection between us. I suspected he was thinking if he should follow up on what I had done. I touched him, I kept my palm on his thigh WAY over the amount of time that would be considered appropriate between straight males. It could be clearly read as... an invitation. Was he deliberating what to do about that? I could help him in a way, couldn't I?

So, I said, "Whatever you are so intensely thinking about, go for it."

Ryder turned his face toward me. His cheeks were blushed, his dark eyes fixed on me.

"You think I should?"

"Yep. Definitely."

He nodded very slowly. "So wait here, okay? It may take some time."

"Sure, do your thing."

And he went out of the room.

I had no fucking idea what just happened, and what I encouraged him to do. What now? What did he want to do? Why did he leave the room?

Too many questions. So, I just put the bottleneck to my mouth and started to drink. I probably emptied it almost to the bottom. After a couple of minutes, I started to feel differently.

The room began to flow in front of my eyes, as if I was underwater. I felt nice relaxation in my whole body, nice flexibility in all my limbs, and I spread myself on the couch, staring blankly at the flickering screen, not even knowing what was going on there.

Yep, that was it, that's what I needed. To just swim around in an enjoyable haze of nothingness.

I even closed my eyes for a minute, sliding down into the 'rabbit hole'. The world became blurry and unreal, like a dream, without any substance to it. Three-dimensional simulation and me - in the center of it - not caring about anything.

I don't know how long I was in that hazy state. Maybe for half an hour?

But I heard something and I opened my eyes, to notice someone standing in front of me.

It was a girl.

Or was it a girl?

I wasn't certain.

The person had intense makeup, a blond, curly wig, and a black, short maid's dress with laces and small white apron.

Fuck, was I really dreaming? Was this alcohol spiked?

The dress was super short, showing long, slim legs in white pantyhose and in black, elegant high heels.

I stared at these legs for a while, as they were fantastic. Slim yet toned - perfection.

"Nice legs, girl..." I mumbled.

The "girl" came closer.

Okay. Let's put that aside. I wasn't THAT drunk.

I kinda low-key knew who it was. C'mon. We were here alone, I doubted he would call for some girl just for me. But on some level... I accepted the new reality and the new challenge. It was much easier and more... convenient, to pretend just a bit like it was a mysterious girl.

To be fair - it was me who had told him: go for it.

He took two steps toward me, and stopped just next to my knees.

What to do? What should I do now? The hell with it!

I reached out and touched his slim thigh. The nylon pantyhose were slick and smooth. It was pleasant to skim over it, almost mesmerizing. My fingers moved along his leg - up. I didn't look at his face. It was better not to look there, right? Not to be hit with the reality too hard.

So, I slowly grabbed his hips and turned him around. Now I was presented with his ass in a small black skirt. I slid my hands up on his thighs and discovered they were actually not pantyhose, but white, high stockings! Trimmed with lace. And above that...I swallowed.

Warm, naked, smooth skin. And above - women's panties - a white, thin, laced thong.

My heart sped up. "Nice..." I murmured.

Ryder, again, didn't answer.

So, I pulled the skirt all up and stared at his ass. I was pretty shocked how nice of an ass he had. Small, but round buttocks, pristine white, something that could easily be called a perfect bubble-butt.

Not thinking too much I leaned forward and kissed one of his ass cheeks. His short gasp was pretty loud, suggesting - he probably had nothing against that kind of caressing. So, I somewhat latched on his ass, and he smelled so nice... like fresh shower gel, to be honest. Did he shower? I was in the living room for quite some time, drinking alone.

The scent was so intoxicating... I started to kiss and suck on his ass, lick it, nibble on it, leaving him countless hickeys, and even just plain straight pink bite marks. I really don't know why I found it so fucking mesmerizing caressing some guy's ass!

And he let me do it, no questions asked, so I started to want even more and pulled the thong down, feeling very curious. I put my hand on his back, pressing on it, so he had to lean forward, pushing his ass toward me, presenting it to me...

I saw what he had behind his pretty ass cheeks, and stared at this for some moments. It looked so fucking small. Way too small to take anything bigger than maybe two fingers. But it was rather esthetically pleasing, looking neat. Tiny, tight pink star.

Just to test the water, I leaned forward and grazed it with my lips. It smelled very nice. Rosy flower gel. Encouraged by it, I got even bolder. I kissed it lightly. He made a small, a bit surprised sound. What was he expecting? That I would back out now? No fucking way. The truth was, despite my heavily drunk state, I realized I was hard. I was hard for my shy, workaholic male colleague from work!

That was new for me.

But the very intriguing thing was... did he also get hard?

How should I examine it? I was too embarrassed for some reason to just bluntly check it, feeling him under the thong. So, I had to come up with some more subtle way. I lowered the thong down a bit, trying to notice the moment I would feel the resistance. If he were flaccid, it would go down without a problem.

My heart paced up... because the thong obviously stuck, and didn't go down... The reason could only be that it was held there by his erection.

Still, it wasn't enough for me. I really, really, really needed to know for sure.

I glanced from below. But I could only see his small, smoothly shaven balls behind his legs.