After fucking my hot Italian teammate, I felt on top of the world. But since Dario was exhausted, I told him that it was fine to head back to the dorm and rest for a couple hours.
I then joined my teammates for lunch before heading to our afternoon workouts. Today, everyone in the group was much nicer to me, and both Juan and Michael let me work out with them. As the three Americans lifted weights together, both boys showed me a lot of respect and also kept trying to steal glances at my bulge, which was mostly concealed by my athletic shorts on top of the lycra.
After our workout, it was time to hit the water once again. Dario joined us after his nap, though I noticed he now walked with a a limp. Once we started rowing, however, all of the guys listened to my orders and rowed in unison—all that is, except for Damion.
The tall, Irish stud was the only rower on the team who hadn't yet seen my dick. And while everyone else was now respectful of the cocky coxswain, Damion was brash and arrogant and always thought that he should be in charge. He was the best rower on the team, but he also needed to learn that the coxswain is supposed to call the shots. And later that night, I planned on teaching him a lesson that he would never forget.
After rowing practice, we all ate dinner as a team, and Damion complained about me the entire time. "We need a better coxswain," he said. "He's always going too fast, too slow, or just missing the mark. There's no way we're going to win the Sussex Cup with Drake on our team."
No one else on the crew backed Damion up, but he continued criticizing me nevertheless. After dinner, we all headed to the gym once again—this time, for a little light cardio. I hopped onto a treadmill and to my surprise, Damion jumped onto the treadmill next to me. I just couldn't get away from this arrogant Irish stud.
As I ran on the treadmill at a pretty good pace, Damion went much faster. Since he was over a foot taller than me (6'6" to 5'5"), his legs could take longer strides, and he was also in better shape overall. As Damion sprinted on the treadmill, he started to rub it in.
"Guess you can't keep up," he noted. "But you think you're so tough—don't you—calling all the orders on the boat."
I ignored Damion until the end of my workout. But as I stepped off the treadmill—25 minutes and 3 miles down—the Irishman stopped his workout and followed after me. "You only did 3 miles?!" he chided. "I did 4 in the same amount of time!"
"What's your problem!?" I asked, turning around. "Stop being such a jerk!"
"Ooooohhh, are you scared, little man?" Damion asked.
"I'm not scared at all," I replied. "And I 'aint little, either."
Damion stepped forward and towered over me. It was obvious to everyone in the weight room that he was waaaaay taller—and significantly stronger—than the short, scrawny coxswain.
"You are little, my man—both in height and where it counts the most." With that, Damion took a step back and grabbed the bulge in his lycra, showing off what looked to be a pretty sizable dick print in his trou.
Since it wasn't too far below my eye-level, I glanced down and have to admit that I was impressed. The Irish stud was hung like a horse and had what appeared to be a 6-inch snake going down the leg of his lycra. On the other hand, I was still wearing my athletic shorts that didn't show any bulge at all.
"That's pretty impressive," I said coolly to Damion. "But I'm willing to bet I have you beat."
Damion laughed at what he thought was a ridiculous proposal. "There's no fucking way—little guy. I bet I'm at least twice the size of the little boy penis that you're hiding in your shorts!"
All of our teammates were now finished their workouts and listening to our argument, but none of them said a word.
"You're on," I replied. "I bet I'm bigger than you in both length and girth. And if I lose - I'll be your slave for the rest of the week, doing whatever you want me to do."
"But if I win," I continued. "You will shut your mouth and follow my every order for the rest of the week. You will call me 'sir' and do whatever I tell you."
Damion looked around at my teammates but couldn't tell much from their facial expressions. Turning back to me, he said, "You're on. I can't wait to make you my bitch."
Just like that, Damion and I headed to the locker room for our little contest, with all seven of our teammates following close behind.
___________________________________________________________
Once we got to the locker room, Damion and I faced off in the middle as our teammates formed a circle around us.
"You're going down," Damion told me. "Hope you're ready to suck on my big, massive cock!"
"How're we going to do this?" I asked. "And what are the rules?"
Juan stepped forward and held up a ruler that he'd found in the trainer's room. "I can be the judge," he said, "But how're we going to measure?"
Dario, the sexy Italian stud who I'd fucked earlier, stepped up with a proposal. "How 'bout length, girth, ball size, staying power, and the amount you cum?" he asked. "The winner is declared with 3 out of 5."
I could tell that our teammates were getting horny, since a few started to adjust their bulges in their trou. Damion and I both agreed to the rules, with each of us looking confident that we would win.
At 6'6", Damion was the tallest rower in the group and also the most muscular. As he stripped off his shirt, his shoulder and arm muscles glistened in the locker-room light, while his pecs were completely huge above a 10-pack of wash-board abs.
I took off my shirt at the same time as Damion, but my body wasn't much to look at. Even though I was skinny and toned with a hint of abs, I didn't come close to this Irish Adonis. But thankfully, whether we could model for Abercrombie or Calvin Klein wasn't a requirement of this 5-part contest.
As I stood in my athletic shorts, Damion just wore lycra, and everyone's eyes were glued to his enormous bulge. I have to admit that it was damn impressive, and he'd likely gone through his entire life having the biggest dick on his rowing teams. But in this moment, I smugly and confidently told Damion to "take off your trou and show us what you got."
Damion happily started lowering his trou to show us "The Beast," as he called it. And sure enough, it looked like a sizable chunk of man meat. Next to Damion's muscled legs—which looked like tree trunks themselves—his thick Irish snake hung down at least 6.5 inches.
"Not bad," I said. "But I bet I still have you beat."
Damion started laughing but stopped as soon as I ripped off my shorts. There, in my lycra trou, was a bulge that seemed unbelievable.
I kept going and started lowering my trou to the floor. Just like Damion, I unfurled my mammoth man-meat slowly, until every inch came into view. Damion stayed silent this entire time, but some of our other teammates gasped and a couple started cheering.
"Yesssss!"
"Show him who's boss!"
Even in their flaccid states, my dick looked larger than the cocky Irishman's. At nearly 7.5 inches, it looked completely absurd on my short and scrawny coxswain body.
As I stepped towards Damion to compare our massive softies, he looked shocked by the massive hunk of man-meat hanging between my legs. Damion was used to being bigger soft than most guys' hard, and he'd never seen a flaccid dick as huge as mine.
Once it was obvious to everyone in the room that my soft cock outmatched Damion's by at least an inch, I asked if we should get hard to compare. "Time to start stroking."
But before I could grab my anaconda to start to jack off, my studly German roommate, Charles von Lassendorf, made a beeline for my cock. "I'll help!" he said. And before I knew it, this 6'5", blond-haired stud was on his knees fondling my balls and dick.
Not to be outdone, Michael went over to Damion and started doing the same. The 6'0" twunk from Illinois was now jerking off "The Beast" as Charles helped coax my massive man-meat into a throbbing erection.
For the next five minutes, Charles and Michael jerked us off as Damion and I stared at one another. And as I soaked in the sexy sight, my dick started to rise...and rise...and rise...