Too easy..

You’re good. Too good.

Not just smart. sharp. Precise. Strategic. The kind of talent that should’ve put you on a field or a stage. But that’s never been your thing. You prefer watching from the sidelines, analyzing, understanding what others miss. It’s not laziness. it’s detachment. You like knowing how the game works better than anyone. You like winning more than playing.

But without the body to match the brilliance, without the muscle or stature people expect from someone who always comes out on top, you’ve been underestimated your whole life. So you made it a habit to flip the script through bets. Dares. Challenges. You bait the overconfident, exploit their pride. You always win. Always.

By your second month at university, you’ve become a minor legend. The small, quiet one who no one can beat. People admire it. Others hate it. Some pretend not to care. You can see the jealousy in their eyes.

So when your roommate throws a massive party, a loud, messy, over-packed chaos of bodies, booze, and fragile egos you expect to blend in. Just another night.

But your name travels.

Soon, you're roped into challenges again. Someone bets you can't name every capital in the world. You do. Someone else sets up a weird dexterity test with a shot glass and a ping pong ball. You nail it. Word spreads. You're surrounded again by people who want to watch you win, or finally see you fail.

And then she shows up.

Tall, magnetic, a smirk carved into her lips like she owns the night. She's clearly been watching. Maybe she's heard the stories.

"If you're the best at everything," she says, voice loud enough to silence the music around you, "then you should be the best at cock-sucking too."

The room shifts. Laughter erupts. Whistles. Gasps. Jaws drop. You feel the heat rise up your neck, but your face doesn’t change. You're used to pressure. Used to impossible bets.

And without thinking, you respond. "Deal."

People cheer. She raises an eyebrow. You see it in her expression. she thought you'd back down. You didn't. And now, the whole room watches bothvof you, looking at eachother to see if it has to really happen.

The men who were laughing before go quiet. Some stare. Some squirm. And as she takes one out of the group to show her "skills", you relucantly do the same. Shame, hesitation and fear, but you somehow nailed it. Like you were doilg it for years, you manage to suck dicks like an expert, a slut full of lust...

“Okay,” she says. “I think you just won that. Didn't knew you were good at pleasing men too...”

The tension breaks, but something obviously doesn’t go back to normal. People look at you differently. Like they were finlly superior to you, and maybe they were. Like you just fall into a trap.

That night, lying awake, the thought won’t leave you: what exactly did I just prove? And why do I want to try again ?