Since Nhật Hào moved in, I’ve basically been sidelined by Duy Long and Ngọc Lễ. Before, they’d always drag me along wherever they went. Now it’s all “Nhật Hào, what do you want to eat?” when they go for food, “Nhật Hào, free to help carry bags?” when they hit the supermarket, and “Nhật Hào, wanna go walk around Phố đi bộ?” when they’re bored. I feel like I’ve lost all value in their eyes.
But I can’t really blame them. Even though he’s a year younger, Nhật Hào’s build is easily one and a half times bigger than me or them. And the kid’s always helpful, diligent, and especially gallant toward the three of us “discreet” gays. If he sees us doing anything strenuous, he jumps in to help without being asked.
One time we all went to Vạn Hạnh Mall—movie, shopping, the usual. I forgot my jacket and couldn’t handle the AC. Nhật Hào immediately took his off and draped it over me. That earned me a week-long cold war from Duy Long and Ngọc Lễ. Plus, whenever we walk to campus, he always insists on walking on the outside: “Go inside, the road’s dangerous!”
Good thing I’ve got a steel heart named Hoàng Tuấn, or I’d be in trouble. Meanwhile, Duy Long and Ngọc Lễ are already fantasizing about domestic bliss—waking up early to cook and clean, waiting for Nhật Hào to come home from work, then showering nice and clean to lie sideways, ready for him.
Whenever it’s just the three of us in the room, I tease them: “Stop dreaming. We don’t even know if he likes guys or girls! Acting like no straight guy can be this gallant.”
Duy Long: “You’ve got Hoàng Tuấn already—you wouldn’t understand! The way he treats me isn’t just gallant. It’s boyfriend-level care!”
Ngọc Lễ: “Hey, bitch, trying to steal my man? Has he bought you milk tea like he does for me? Dream on!”
Duy Long snorts: “Funny! He only bought you some because you helped him with math homework. He likes me! Fair competition—whoever wins, wins!”
Ngọc Lễ glares: “Fine. We’ll see. When I’m sleeping with Nhật Hào on this bunk, hope you stay calm!”
I shake my head in despair. We’ve lived together peacefully for a whole year without a single fight, and now we’re fighting over a boy. I’ve tried finding flaws in Nhật Hào to make them give up, but there are none. Perfect face, perfect body, tall and toned, probably huge dick, and great personality…
In their eyes, he’s the flawless hot boy straight out of a novel. I just hope he’s straight so they’ll drop it and things can go back to normal.
But nothing’s ever perfect. The reason they think he’s “ten out of ten” is because his biggest flaw is something they can’t see.
Friday morning two weeks later, as usual, the room emptied out early. But today I didn’t catch Nhật Hào “accidentally” flashing anything—guess he’s being more careful around me now. Trọng Quân finished showering, changed into dress pants and a shirt—looking very proper. I asked: “Where you going dressed so nice?”
Trọng Quân: “Club interview. When Hào wakes up, tell him breakfast is hanging by your bed—I asked you to buy it for him.”
I nodded absently. Freshmen these days are so active—already joining clubs in year one. Meanwhile, lazy me deliberately picked a schedule with no Friday, Saturday, or Sunday classes—full weekend freedom.
Trọng Quân left. Nhật Hào woke up soon after. His morning wood was still visible through his boxers, but he didn’t seem shy in front of me. After brushing his teeth and washing his face, I pointed out the breakfast bag Trọng Quân left.
Shirtless, still in just boxers, he took the food and sat on the balcony to eat. When he finished, he came back in, rummaged under Quốc Bảo’s bunk, and pulled out a resistance band—the thick kind used for squats.
I asked while gaming: “What’s that?”
Nhật Hào: “Resistance band. I’m gonna train glutes. Don’t laugh, okay?”
I thought: No wonder his ass is so round and perky—he trains hard.
But I asked: “You’ve been doing this long? I never saw you train.”
Nhật Hào: “I usually do it in the bathroom. How would you see? Room’s empty today, so I’m doing it out here.”
He stepped into the band, slowly pulling it up his thighs. Every squat made his ass rise and fall right in front of me. The boxers hugged tight, outlining every movement perfectly.
I’m curious by nature—and I’ve always wanted a rounder ass—so after finishing my game, I jumped down and asked: “Does this really make your ass bigger?”
Nhật Hào: “Try it!”
He helped me step into the band and pulled it up to just above my knees. I did one squat—and the resistance was so strong my knees buckled and I dropped straight to the floor. Nhật Hào burst out laughing. I yelled: “Fuck! It looks small—how is it this strong?!”
Nhật Hào: “You panicked too fast! Pull it higher up your thighs. The higher it goes, the weaker the resistance. Start low and work your way up.”
Since I was a beginner, he pulled it all the way up my thighs. Because I was wearing soccer shorts, he lifted the legs to adjust the band. The higher he pulled, the more he “accidentally” brushed my cock. I flinched—but the band was right under my crotch, so it was hard to avoid.
He teased: “Going commando?”
I clicked my tongue: “You already know!”
Nhật Hào grinned: “Now try again!”
I squatted. This time the resistance felt better. But the band sat so high that every drop made it rub against my cock. After five reps, I was hard again. I panicked, yanked the band off, and said: “Yeah, it hits the glutes. I’ll buy my own later!”
Nhật Hào laughed: “Hits the glutes… or something else? I see something growing over there!”
I pushed his shoulder: “It’s the band rubbing! Not on purpose!”
Nhật Hào: “It’s normal. Happens to me every time. You get used to it.”
I handed the band back and climbed onto my bunk to keep gaming. Below, Nhật Hào kept training—stopping every 20 reps to rest. I don’t know how many reps are “enough” for glutes, but 20 didn’t seem like much—his legs and ass shouldn’t be tired yet. So why stop?
During his next set, I pretended to go to the balcony for something—but really I wanted a front view. That’s when I saw it: the band was definitely rubbing his cock too. It pointed upward, rock-hard—just like I’d seen before.
I came back in. He stopped at 25 this time. He stood straight, but his legs were visibly trembling—like he was flexing hard. Then I heard it: a soft splat—like water dripping on the floor. Through the gap between his legs, I saw white streaks on the tiles below him. More drops fell—thick, milky white.
I thought: Did Nhật Hào just cum while squatting right in front of me?
At that moment, he turned his head and caught me staring. He let out a long breath and said casually: “Still can’t make it past 20.”
So it wasn’t his legs or glutes giving out at 20—it was his cock. Every rub from the band was enough stimulation to make him cum after just over 20 reps…
I didn’t know what to say. Nhật Hào added: “Sorry, I didn’t mean to. I didn’t pull my waistband up in time—it poked out and… spilled.”
I snapped out of it: “It’s fine. You clean the most around here anyway. A little mess on the floor isn’t a big deal.”
Nhật Hào: “Bro Hưng… don’t tell anyone else about this, okay?”
I said: “Yeah, I won’t say anything. Don’t worry.”
Nhật Hào: “Not about messing the floor. I mean…”
He meant: Don’t tell anyone I’m extremely sensitive. He looked a little sad, so I grabbed the box of tissues, jumped down, and handed it to him: “I won’t say a word. I’ll pretend I didn’t see anything. Clean up first.”
Nhật Hào pulled out tissues and wiped his cock first. He still seemed flustered, so he pulled it completely out of his boxers to clean—no shame, even though I’d already seen everything. I swallowed hard. His cock was gorgeous—not just long and slender, but smooth and pink like no one had ever touched it.
But my staring got noticed. He asked: “Why’re you swallowing so much? Thirsty?”
Caught, I tried to play it off: “Throat’s dry, that’s all!”
Nhật Hào grinned, wiped up the cum on the floor, then—when I wasn’t paying attention—slipped his hand up my shorts leg and grabbed my still-hard cock. I couldn’t deny it.
He laughed: “Guess your little brother’s throat is dry too—it’s protesting down here!”
I smacked his hand away. He gathered the used tissues and threw them in the trash, then said: “If I wasn’t so ‘weak,’ I’d be way more confident.”
I asked: “With everything you’ve got now, you still don’t feel confident?”
Nhật Hào: “What do I have?”
I said: “Looks, youth, time, talent…”
He cut in: “But no boyfriend.”
I: “Is having a boyfriend that important? You like guys? We’ve got two right here for you to choose from!”
He asked: “Does that include you?”
I dodged: “Stop teasing! But seriously—born like this? Seen a doctor?”
Nhật Hào: “Started jerking off in sixth grade. Three times a day. Now it’s like this. I’ve seen doctors, taken meds.”
I asked: “Improved at all?”
He: “A little. A few months ago I’d cum by the 10th squat. Now 20 is my max!”
I clicked my tongue: “So the resistance band isn’t just for glutes—it’s also a ‘stamina test’?”
Nhật Hào nodded, then continued: “In twelfth grade I had a girlfriend. She sucked me three times and I came. Word spread around school. After that I didn’t dare date anyone. Didn’t dare hook up either. Everyone mocked me. I know it hurts.”
I comforted: “It’s okay. You’re improving. And if someone really loves you, they won’t care about this.”
Nhật Hào: “Do you care?”
I said: “Ask Hoàng Tuấn.”
Nhật Hào: “Nah. If he knew I flashed you on purpose and came right in front of you, he’d beat me half to death!”
I exclaimed: “Aha! So you did it on purpose!”
Nhật Hào laughed: “Yeah… but you liked it, right?”
I denied: “No way! What’re you saying?”
Nhật Hào grinned wider: “Then why’d you film me jerking through my boxers that day?”
My face burned. I stammered: “How… how did you…”
Nhật Hào: “How’d I know? I pulled the blanket over my face, but it’s thin. Outside light made everything visible!”
I shouted: “Holy shit!”
So that day he jerked off on purpose for me to see.
Nhật Hào continued: “I didn’t plan to cum that day. But when I saw you copying my movements… I couldn’t hold back.”
I wanted to dig a hole and disappear. Fine—secret for secret. And because I felt bad for his “problem,” sometimes when he asked, I’d suck him off. If Duy Long and Ngọc Lễ ever found out, they’d probably disown me!