His face did something complicated as he seemed to consider the option, but only for a split second. “I just figure if I nut, I’ll go soft. Can you at least jack it?”
I looked at him for a moment. All that swagger reduced to standing in my dorm room with his pants down, asking me for a hand job. I’d imagined a lot of scenarios during my months of preparation. This one was so much better.
“Fine,” I said.
“This stays between us.”
“I don’t break my word,” I said.
He shuffled over, and I finally got my first real look at what I’d been fantasizing about for so long.
God.
Brett’s cock was a fucking monster. Thick as my wrist, flushed deep red with arousal, and rock-hard, curving slightly to the left in that perfect, aggressive way that made my cock swell just looking at it. The fat shaft was laced with bulging veins that pulsed under the taut skin, each throb sending a fresh bead of pre-cum welling up from the wide cock head.
That slick tip glistened obscenely, a long, shiny string of pre-cum already stretching down before breaking and splattering onto his heavy, low-hanging balls. Those balls were massive, swollen tight with cum, covered in a light dusting of dark hair, and they swayed heavily between his powerful thighs like they were begging to be drained dry.
The raw male scent of him hit me full force, clean soap completely burned away by hot skin, heavy balls, and pure desperate jock sweat that made my own cock throb painfully and my mouth flood with saliva. I wanted to drop to my knees, shove my face into that sweaty crotch, and worship every thick inch until he was sobbing and shooting straight down my throat.
I wanted to spread those massive thighs wide, pin him down, and take my sweet time learning exactly how he tasted when he lost control completely. The hunger was so intense it took every ounce of concentration I had just to keep my face neutral.
I wrapped my hand around that thick jock cock and got to work. He sucked in a sharp, desperate breath the second my fingers closed on him. His big paw shot out and clamped down hard on my shoulder, fingers digging in like he needed something solid to keep from collapsing.
The heat of his shaft burned against my palm, velvet skin stretched tight over rock-hard meat, every fat vein throbbing wildly as I started stroking him with firm, deliberate pulls.
I kept the pace efficient and clinical on the outside, but inside, I was losing my mind at how good he felt. The fat head flared bigger with every upward twist of my wrist, smearing hot, sticky pre-cum all over my fingers until the whole length was slick and shiny. His heavy balls slapped rhythmically against my wrist, full and swollen, the skin drawn tight as they tried to pull up closer to his body.
The wet, filthy sounds filled the dorm room, the obscene squelch of my fist gliding over his leaking cock, his ragged breathing turning into low, broken grunts, the creak of the floor under his shifting weight. Up close, his scent was overwhelming, raw sweat and balls and pure Brett, thick enough to taste on the back of my tongue and making my own dick leak steadily into my underwear.
“Miles.” His voice came out wrecked.
His orgasm was building fast. Every muscle in his thighs turned to stone under my free hand, the thick quad flexing hard against my palm. His ripped abs locked down into a perfect, glistening washboard, veins popping along his forearms and neck as his grip on my shoulder turned bruising. His hips stuttered forward in short, needy thrusts, fucking my fist like he couldn’t help it, the fat head swelling even bigger, turning dark as it pulsed in my grip.
I let go.
He made a noise, a half-strangled groan, half-raw animal outrage. His cock jerked wildly in the open air, the fat head flaring wide as thick, pearly ropes of hot jock cum erupted from him in powerful, wasted spurts.
One heavy blast after another painted his own muscled thigh in sticky white streaks, splattering across the hard ridges of his quad and dripping down in long, messy trails toward his knee. His powerful body shook with it, legs trembling, chest heaving, abs rippling as the orgasm tore through him without a single stroke to ride it out. He stood there braced hard against my shoulder, breathing like he’d just sprinted the length of a football field, staring down at the mess on his leg with the stunned, furious face of a man who’d just been betrayed by his own dick.
In the chastity world, that was what was commonly referred to as aruined orgasm. And I’d just ruined Brett.
I picked up the cage.
“You son of a bitch,” he growled, voice still hoarse from the ruined load that painted his thigh.
“Hey, you’re soft now,” I said calmly, holding the cold steel between us.
He looked at me. His face was flushed dark red, furious, sweat still dripping down his temples, and underneath the anger, something raw and unnamed flickered in his eyes that made my stomach tighten with pure, filthy satisfaction.
I held the cage out.
He took it with unsteady hands, the metal looking small and cruel against his big jock fingers. He looked down. His cock was finally soft and spent, still thick and heavy even when limp, the fat shaft glistening with leftover cum. He worked the cold steel base ring behind his swollen balls first. The metal was snug against his warm skin, forcing those heavy, cum-drained nutsforward so they bulged obscenely through the ring like ripe fruit on display.
Then, he slid the tight tube down over his soft meat, watching helplessly as the steel swallowed every inch of what used to be his proud, thick jock cock. The fat head disappeared, crammed down into the short, confining cage until nothing but a smooth, shiny steel prison remained.
I set the lock with the turn of the key. The sound was loud and final in the quiet room. The cage sat flush and inescapable against his body, the heavy ring framing his trapped balls perfectly, turning his once-massive dick into nothing but my locked-up little toy. A small, helpless bulge of soft meat pressed uselessly against the bars, already looking smaller and more pathetic than it had any right to look.
He just stood there for a second with his eyes closed, breathing hard, feeling the cold steel locked tight around his spent cock and heavy balls like a permanent claim of ownership.