“You ready to have your cock locked for another week?” He reached up and offered me his hand.“I real

“You ready to have your cock locked for another week?” He reached up and offered me his hand.“I really want to beat you,” I lifted my arm and squeezed his hand with mine.“I know,” He sounded like he sympathized.I squeezed a little harder and softly growled with frustration, “I’m stronger than you.”“You are,” He agreed, patiently not squeezing back, “but you’re still not going to win.”I shook my head, “Why do I keep losing to you?”“Because you’re a loser,” His voice had the confidence of cold hard fact, “and losers always lose. It’s what you do. I’m going to win and you’re going to lose, every time, because you’re you and I’m me.”I shook my head, letting my tongue pass diligently over my lower lip as I felt a rush of determination, “No, I’m going to beat you.”He shook his head, and I could tell that he didn’t have even the smallest doubt, “I’m a winner. That means I’m going to win. Go ahead, say it, you know I’m right.”I sighed, feeling my determination waiver, “You’re gong to win.”“Exactly,” He nodded, “it’s not about you, it’s about me: I’m going to win, which means you’re going to lose.”I shivered, “That’s so unfair.”He chuckled, “You don’t like losing, do you?”“I don’t like losing,” I shook my head, “it doesn’t feel good.”“It doesn’t feel good,” He agreed, “so instead of suffering defeat, why don’t you just forfeit to me?”I sighed and shivered again, glancing down at my shorts and the highly restrained package they contained. I looked up at him, but could see my inevitable doom in his eyes. I licked my lips with a newly resigned determination, “Okay, yeah, I quit, you win.”He shook his head, “You don’t quit: you forfeit. Say it, admit it, or I’m going to destroy you. You don’t want that, do you?”He continued to shake his head and I slowly followed his lead and started shaking mine, “No…no, I don’t want that. I want to forfeit. You win, I lose, just please don’t lock my cock for another week.”“Sorry dude,” He smirked and released my hand, relaxing his body and sitting up on his knees, “you have to beat me to get your cock unlocked. You know that those are the rules. On the bright side, since you didn’t make me work for it, I have enough energy to help you unload.”“Don’t even joke about that,” I remained down with both my hands and knees on the floor, “if I’m staying locked you can’t stroke me off either dude!”“No,” He looked so sure of himself, “but I can stroke your prostate, if you want.”I shivered, suddenly feeling like being on my hands and knees looked more suggestive than I had originally realized, “Oh man, you’re saying losers get fucked?”He slowly shook his head, “Fucking feels good. Losing is totally unpleasant. Losing gets you bullied, forfeiting gets you fucked.”“I forfeit,” I pointed out, “please, I feel like my balls are going to burst out of my sack.”“Then let me help you out,” He held out his hand like he was offering me a favor, “after all, what else is there to lose when you’ve already forfeited the match?” -- source link

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