Dominant Twink Pt. 01

m/m rough story

I've always been a smaller guy, around 5 ft 6, and because of that I've spent a lot of time trying to, "toughen up." I did weight training, MMA, and basically anything that I thought would make me stronger and a better fighter. By the time I turned 21, I was considered the "tiny but mighty one," of the group. Despite my best efforts, I was never able to get my weight above 130 lbs.

A few months after I turned 21, I returned to my parents' home for a few weeks in the summer. We lived in a small town, where I generally abstained from hooking up. I still would peruse the apps, and, on this particular spring day, I received a message that was intriguing. Well, to be sure, the message wasn't intriguing, but the pics on the profile certainly were.

Pic 1, the display pic, was of a torso (duh), with nicely formed pecs, and tight washboard abs. Pic 2 was the back, arms flexing showing bulging, biceps, and toned back muscles. Pic three was the package...yes, mighty fine.

I shared similar pics, and got the message, "hot man. When are you free?"

"3pm tomorrow, u host?" I replied.

"Yeah man. Come over ;)"

Then of course we had to go over that familiar, but necessary hurdle.

"Face pic?" I asked.

A few seconds past

"Oh shit," I said aloud.

Jason Patrick McDonna was the star quarterback of my high school, and graduated the same year as me. I'd attended elementary, middle and high school with him, and probably never said more than five words to him. When I last saw him, at high school graduation, he had an attractive, athletic build. Based on the photos he had just sent, he'd made improvements. I would guess he would be around 21 or 22 now.

"I sent a face pic back with," I guess we know each other."

A pause. Then...

"I guess so! I always thought you were cute "

Okay, even my tough guy persona smiled at that.

After a full day of anticipation, I made up an excuse to leave my house, and drove to Jason's home. His parents owned a pretty standard suburban home, complete with bay windows and driveway basketball hoop. I saw him peering through the drapes of his house, and the door was already open by the time I reached the front step.

"Hey," he said. He was 6ft 2, with longish blond hair, a strong, defined jaw line and bright green eyes. Honestly, he looked more like a surfer, minus the tan, than a football player. He wore a tight black t-shirt showing off his well-developed pecs and abs. His jogging shorts (which just screamed bottom to me, by the way) ended halfway above the knees, showed off these thick muscular legs that I just wanted to lick the length of.

I followed him into a sitting room that had some bizarre Dixieland knickknacks on the shelves, and one of those "don't tread on me" snake banners. The air smelled like cigars and meat, and I sat down on a firm armchair, while he sat on a sofa looking uncomfortable. Yet, a bulge in his shorts told me that the interest was still there.

"So...I guess it's been a while, huh?" he said, awkwardly. We were both watching each other, and I noticed how red his lips were for the first time.

The small talk before a hookup could be awkward, but I used it as an opportunity to learn what the other person was into. Trust was super important in these scenarios, even if we did kind of know each other.

"Few years...you're looking good by the way. Like, strong."

He reflexively flexed, and I got to see the well-rounded, but defined bicep up close. He even could get the veins to pop out.

Fucking hot I thought.

"Same man. You got a nice build." He said, his eyes moving down my body.

I knew I looked like a toned twink, and I disliked this immensely. Still, it's a popular look, and it gets me a decent amount of action. On the whole, I had very little to complain about.

"Thanks," I said, "so...what are you into. I mean, you said you wanted to make out, mess around, but anything specific.

I wanted to pin him down and fuck him like a jackhammer.

"Well, to be honest, I haven't done much. It's tough with practice...and stuff." His eyes lingered slightly on a picture with him and an older man, I assumed was his dad.

So, dad's a dick about gay stuff. Shocking.

"Okay," I said, knowing that this was a difficult place to be, "Whatever you're comfortable with."

"Is my bedroom okay?" he asked, rather shyly.

"As opposed to the front yard?" I said in a teasing way.

He smiled, and led me down the hall, up the stairs, passed a large room to what I assumed was his childhood bedroom. My eyes were on that beautiful bubble butt that his shorts barely contained.

His bedroom was medium-sized, and had memorabilia, mostly trophies and medals, from the years he had lived here. There were some weights crammed into one of the corners, a hamper filled with some dirty work out clothes, and a desk with a computer on it. Unlike the rest of this house, his room smelled like a human lived in it. It wasn't a bad smell, just his smell. Truth was, I kind of enjoyed it.

He sat on his bed, on top of a rather poofy comforter, and looked at me expectantly. That bulge in his pants was getting more bulgy by the second.

I walked up to him, started stoking his hair, and he pulled me closer. His sitting on the bed made us nearly the same height, and it wasn't long before his muscular legs and arms were pulling me in. We started making out on his bed, and after a few seconds he pulled me on top, with his hands somewhat awkwardly grabbing my ass.

"Man, this is like solid muscle," he said, "You used to wrestle, right?"

I was surprised he remembered that.

"Yeah," I said, "still do."

"That's hot," he said, slapping my firm ass. I wasn't opposed to spanking, but preferred to be the one doing the spanking.

We continued to kiss and snuggle, his hand exploring my lower body, and my lips explored his upper body. His shirt came off, my shorts came off, and he started playing with my cock through my Calvin Klein briefs. Soon I was sitting on his chest, rubbing his cock through his shorts, as he stroked mine. As much as I loved his appearance, I was loving his scent even more. This musk, a natural smell, that was just intoxicating. He seemed taken back, but surprised when I nuzzled his fuzzy armpits. Gods, they smelled so good.

The problem with looking like a twink is that people assume, without meaning to, that you're a submissive bottom. I am not, and am tired of that perception. I knew he was having fun, but I felt it was time for a change.

"Let's switch," I said.

"What?" He asked, looking confused. I think he thought he did something wrong.

"I want you to get on top here."

He looked confused, but not closed off to the idea, "Are you sure?" He asked.

"Why not?" I asked, knowing why he was hesitant.

"I'm pretty heavy," he said, indicating to his physique.

I rolled my eyes. I could squat over 300lbs, and bench 220. I know I didn't look like it, but, between my weight training and wrestling, I knew I could toss Jason around like a stuffed animal if I wanted.

I got off him and stood in the middle of his room, "Stand up," I ordered.

A little reluctantly, he stood up and approached me. He had decently high ceilings, but I knew we still had to be cautious since he was so tall.

I squatted down, wrapped my arms around him, just below that fantastic bubble butt, and, with no effort, stood up.

"Shit," he said.

"Pretty heavy," I said sarcastically, "140?

"180," he said. I could still feel his cock, this time it was throbbing near my face.

I set him down, but before he was ready, squatted again, pulled him across my shoulders, and stood up.

"You're a light boi," I said, keeping him effortlessly in a fireman carry.

"Jesus," He said, "You're fucking strong,"

"Nah," I said.

I love being in control. Call It a napoleon complex if you like, but dominating guys who are bigger is my ultimate fantasy. Seemed like Jason had the opposite fantasy.

"Fuck," he breathed, as a squatted all the way down, and rose up again.

"No offense, Jason, but I could probably kick your ass if I wanted."

His cock, very obviously against my neck, throbbed its hardest yet. Fuck yeah.

"You think so?" he said, sounding breathless.

"I could make you my little bitch," another massive throb.

This was a technique I've used on other guys. Men always like thinking they're stronger than they are, and are ready to prove it for no reason at all. I knew Jason would take the bait.

"let's try it, Mr. Wrestler" he said, "I'm pretty sure I could take you."

I set him down again, and said, "stakes?"

"What do you mean?" he said stretching his back, and adjusting his massive bulge pointedly.

"If I win, you do whatever I tell you for the next two hours."

He understood, and smirked. I could tell he loved the idea of subbing, I could see his precum darkening a spot on his shorts.

"Fine, and if I win, you do the same for me," he said. I could tell he did not want to win any more than I wanted him to win.

We got into a wrestling position, and I could see, through a reflection in a mirror on his desk, how mismatched we were. Me, a 5-6, 130lb, Indian twink wrestling a 6-2, all American quarterback. There wasn't a single person in the world who would have put money on me. Other than myself, of course.

"Go," he said, and quick as a striking viper, I pulled his legs out from under him. He fell with a muffled thump, and I was on him.

"We're all the same height down here, little boy," I said to the surprised look on his face. we grappled for several seconds, before I took a dominant position. Fatigue was setting in for him—this was not something he was used to doing—and soon I was folding this muscular jock like he was laundry.

"This is a Boston crab," I said, rolling him onto his stomach, and pulling his muscular legs up over his back. Since he didn't know standard wrestling, I figured he wouldn't care that this was a professional wrestling move. Gauging by the growing wet spot, I would say he was enjoying it quite a bit. I sat down a bit more while controlling his legs, and he let out a loud groan.

"I give," he gasped.

"Say it louder," I ordered.

"I give," He yelped.

I released a little, but didn't let him go.

"Who's in charge?"

"You are," He said, slightly more clearly.

"Who's a little bitch?" I asked.

"I am,"

"Say it,"

"I'm a little bitch," he said, sounding close to tears.

Any fears I had about hurting him were assuaged by his throbbing cock. I was surprised he had any precum left in him with how that spot had grown.

I released him, and he let out a massive sigh.

"Fuck...that was hot, "he said, laying on the floor.

"Oh we're not done, little boy," I said, walking around to where his head lay on the carpet. I grabbed his lank blonde hair tightly, and pull him up, none too gently.

"Gah," he said, his mouth agape, as he got to his feet, "fuck, fuck," he said as I pulled his hair back, making him look up at me. I spit into his mouth.

"Swallow it, bitch,"

He obeyed, that prominent Adam's apple adjusting as my saliva went down his throat. Not once did he break eye contact.

I released his hair, and let him stand to his full height, facing away from me. But before he was ready, I pulled him backwards across my shoulders in an Argentine backbreaker.

"Oh fuck," he said, as his muscular body was lifting off the ground yet again.

"I told you we weren't done, little boy,"

"Please," he moaned.

"Please what?" I asked.

"Don't," he begged.

I caught sight of us in the mirror, his large, athletic body helplessly across my toned small build. It was such a bizarre thing, seeing this muscle jock completely at my mercy, my own throbbing cock struggling to break free of my briefs.

Using my arms, I cranked down on his legs and upper chest, stretching his abs, and bending him backwards.

"Fuck, Fuck, Fuck," he gasped."

"What, boy?"

"I...love this...so much,"

I was also loving it, but I could tell he was experiencing a different league of ecstasy than I was.

"You're a little bitch. Doesn't matter how big and muscular you are."

"Yes...sir...."

"You're gonna do whatever I want after I put you down or do I need to crank on your back again?"

"Yes sir, you win," he gasped, "I'm your bitch."

I realized that he was also watching our reflection in the mirror, a look of disbelief and intense passion on his handsome face. After several minutes, I set him down. He rubbed his back a bit, but did not otherwise seem bothered. On the contrary he turned to me, a longing look in his face.

I snapped my fingers and pointed to the floor. Without a word, he got down on his knees, and looked at me expectantly.

"Good boy" I said, "Now let's have more fun."