Sparta College P5 - College Daily

by Dustin W
Posted: May 4, 2016, 16:14

Xiaolong drifted awake slowly, blinking into soft morning light.

He was cocooned in clean white sheets, warm and heavy.

Xiaohu lay beside him, one thick arm draped possessively across Xiaolong’s waist, sleeping like the dead—mouth slightly open, cheeks round and flushed with sleep.

In the gentle sunlight Xiaolong could see the faint, boyish peach fuzz still clinging to Xiaohu’s face, catching the light like fine gold dust.

So damn cute.

He stared for a long moment, memorizing the sight.

Xiaohu stirred, cracked one eye open, and caught Xiaolong gazing at him.

“What?” he mumbled, voice gravelly with sleep.

Xiaolong flushed, suddenly awkward.

“Where… where am I? How did I get here?”

Xiaohu yawned hugely.

“You passed out yesterday after they wrecked you. I carried you back to the dorm. Saw you were covered in marks, so I washed you off and put some ointment on.”

A small, warm feeling bloomed in Xiaolong’s chest.

Then he remembered—
“Wait—what about Jingyu? The others? Are they—”

Xiaohu rolled his eyes.

The arm around Xiaolong’s waist slid lower.
Before Xiaolong could react, two thick fingers already pushed straight into his still-tender hole.

“Ah—ow, ow, ow—!”

Xiaohu clapped a hand over Xiaolong’s mouth, leaning close, voice low and teasing.

“They’re fine. Sleeping right over there.

You’re always worrying about everyone else… how about thanking the guy who carried your sorry ass back here and took care of you, huh?”

Xiaolong glanced sideways.

Sure enough—three other beds, Jingyu, Xiaowei, and the big dark-skinned guy sprawled out in various states of unconsciousness, limbs everywhere.

He turned back.
Xiaohu’s handsome face was right there—half-annoyed, half-smirking.
Without thinking, Xiaolong leaned in and pressed a quick, shy kiss to his lips.

“…Thank you.”

Xiaohu froze for half a second.

Then a slow, wicked grin spread across his face.

He rolled Xiaolong onto his side, nudged his own already-hard cock between Xiaolong’s cheeks, and—slowly, deliberately—pushed inside.

The ointment was still working.

Everything felt slick, warm, impossibly easy.

Xiaohu sank all the way in with one long glide, then wrapped both arms around Xiaolong from behind in a full bear hug.

Chest pressed tight to Xiaolong’s back.

Heartbeats thudding against each other.

Xiaohu’s thick cock pulsed gently inside him, nudging that deep, sensitive spot with every tiny shift.

Xiaolong melted.

The whole world shrank to the steady thump-thump against his spine, the heat of Xiaohu’s body, the delicious fullness rocking ever so slightly inside him.

He felt like he could stay like this forever—like the lyrics of some sappy song he once laughed at:

“The moment I am inside you, I just want to die in your arms.”

Xiaohu didn’t thrust.

He just held him, grinding in tiny, lazy circles, content to stay buried deep.

No rush to come, no hurry to force Xiaolong over the edge.

Just slow, maddening friction.

Minutes stretched into what felt like hours.

Xiaolong was trembling, aching, floating somewhere between torture and bliss.

Eventually the others began to stir.

Jingyu, Xiaowei, and the big guy woke up, glanced over at the tangled pair still under the covers, and just shrugged like it was the most normal thing in the world.

They shuffled off to wash up.

From the bathroom drifted the sound of low laughter and teasing voices—“fucking boyfriends,” “look at them go,” that sort of thing.

Xiaolong’s face burned.

His heart raced faster.

Even though it was Sunday, there was no mercy.

The instructors didn’t care that the new batch had just survived the welcome party.

“Two thousand meters swim. Slowest gets twenty heavy paddle strokes.”

They raced.

The big dark-skinned guy came in last.

He was ordered to touching toes position ready for the paddle.

Water made every stroke ring out like a gunshot—sharp, wet CRACK! after CRACK!

Even someone as tough as him was soon gritting his teeth, hissing in pain.

Lunch.

A short break.

Then the gym: upper body circuit.

Same rule—any sign of slacking earned instant cane across the ass.

After that, basketball on the court.

For once it felt almost like fun.

The instructors joined in, got caught up in the game, and—for a rare moment—forgot about punishment.

Evening: sanda (Chinese kickboxing)
practice.
Then a 5 km cooldown run.

By the time they stumbled back to the dorm, Xiaolong and the others collapsed face-first onto their beds and passed out instantly.

Weekdays were lighter.

After work they reported to the school for evening sessions—weight training, short sanda rounds, conditioning drills.

At the office the older female colleagues had started to notice.

“Wow, young man, you’ve been working out, huh? Look at those arms!”

“Didn’t realize you were this handsome when you clean up.”

Xiaolong secretly preened.

Friday night rolled around.

The instructor announced a “special program.”

The four newbies felt the familiar mix of dread and secret anticipation.

The location? The clubhouse.

They stepped inside.

No crowd this time.

Just Xiaohu—completely naked, blindfolded, legs spread wide, in diaper position back on a valuting horse in the center of the club house.

“Tonight’s lesson,” the instructor announced, cane already in hand, “is sex education.

To be a true Spartan, physical strength isn’t enough. Sexual ability has to match.

Today we focus on how a good top needs to perform.”

The four boys swallowed hard.

One full week of enforced abstinence.

Cock rings tracking every heartbeat, every twitch.

The words “sex education” alone were enough to make them painfully hard.

“You all know men have a prostate,” the instructor continued.

He squeezed lube onto his gloved fingers and pushed two straight into Xiaohu’s hole.

Xiaohu—clearly not used to bottoming—flushed dark red, biting his lip.

The instructor crooked his fingers, searching, then pressed.

“Ah—!”

Xiaohu’s cock jumped to full hardness in an instant.

“Right here.” The instructor nodded. “Come feel it. Everyone.”

One by one they stepped up.

Xiaolong went last.

He slid a finger inside—found the small, firm walnut-sized spot—and pressed.

Xiaohu’s cock jerked violently, pre-cum beading at the tip.

“Good. Now each of you fucks him.
Rules: five minutes full speed. No cuming.
And you keep him hard the whole time.
Fail either, and you get private training after class.

Xiaolong—you’re first.”

Xiaolong’s heart hammered.

His first time topping the boy he’d been crushing on so hard.

He lined up—cock already flushed dark purple from a week of denial—and slowly pushed inside.

“Ahhh…”

Xiaohu groaned.

Xiaolong’s slight upward curve hit the prostate perfectly on the first thrust.

Xiaohu clenched hard around him.
Both of them shuddered in pleasure.

CRACK!

The cane landed across Xiaolong’s ass.

“No slacking!”

Xiaolong grabbed Xiaohu’s waist and started thrusting—deep, steady, every stroke nailing that spot.

Xiaohu moaned openly, cock bouncing with every impact, rigid and leaking.

Watching this muscular sports-college stud writhe and gasp beneath him—completely undone—was almost too much.

Xiaolong could already feel the edge rushing up.

“Slacking again?” The instructor’s voice cut in. “Dark-skin—get up here. Show him what full speed looks like.”

The big guy didn’t hesitate.

He climbed onto the sling, pressed Xiaolong down so his chest flattened against Xiaohu’s, lined up, and slammed in with one brutal thrust.

Suddenly Xiaolong was sandwiched—buried deep in Xiaohu, while being railed mercilessly from behind.

Every thrust from behind drove him harder into Xiaohu.

Front and back, heat and pressure and friction—

“Ah—ah—no—!”

Xiaolong’s moans grew louder, wilder.

He couldn’t stop it.

His orgasm crashed through him.

He came hard, flooding Xiaohu’s insides with a week’s worth of pent-up release.

Behind him the big guy didn’t slow down.

Xiaolong’s oversensitive cock was still being forced in and out of Xiaohu’s clenching heat.

His legs shook.

He could barely stand.

beep beep

The instructor’s phone chimed.

“Xiaolong just cummed.
Next. Xiaowei—up.
Xiaolong—you wait for remedial training.”

Xiaowei and Jingyu each took their turns—both managing (barely) to last the full five minutes without shooting.

That left Xiaolong alone.

“Remedial training,” the instructor said, “uses a special device.

You saw it during your physical.”

Xiaolong’s stomach dropped.
The life-sized, face-down mannequin with the warm, self-lubricating hole.

“Climb on. Fuck it full force.

The machine scores you.

Insufficient power or bad form? Automatic cane.

If you get too close to cum? Cane again.

We keep you right on the edge—unable to finish.

We call it the Edge Dog.”

Xiaolong obeyed, trembling.

Wrists and ankles locked into place.

He started thrusting.

The silicone felt eerily real—warm, tight, gripping.

From hidden speakers came Xiaohu’s recorded moans—soft, desperate, filthy.

“Not bad,” the instructor commented.

Xiaolong sped up, panting.
“Ah—shit—I’m gonna—”

CRACK! CRACK!

Twin lines of fire across his ass.

He yelped, hips stuttering.

The urge to come retreated just enough to keep him trapped—aching, desperate, unable to tip over.

The instructor smiled.

“Forgot to mention: if you’re about to shoot, the cane corrects you.

Keeps you dancing on the brink.

We’ve set your session for one full hour.
Good luck.”

He turned to the others.
“Let’s go eat.”

The three of them bolted for the door, already laughing.

“Damn, that machine’s brutal.”

“Look at the machine—like it’s his boyfriend or something, hahaha.”

The door swung shut.

Xiaolong was left alone—whimpering, thighs shaking, cock throbbing, ass burning—forced to keep thrusting into the merciless, moaning Edge Dog for another fifty-eight minutes.