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Jeff & Mike
|Then Jeff says, "Hey Mikey - now do you want to see this guy worship me?" Uhhhh…yeah! "I bet I can make him shoot without touching himself. Wanna see?" Uhhhhh….yeah! "Cool! But don't look at me; just him! Tee hee!!" Jesus, again with the restrictions. "Okay, sure Jeff," I said, rolling my eyes. My b/f, ladies and germs - still a fucking 8-year old at heart, even at 500-plus pounds of mind-warping, gravitational mass.
So I turn my back on Jeff, so that I can only see fuckwad who is still lying there, massaging his jaw. "Slave --?" At Jeff's call, the guy instantly snaps to attention, like a fucking marionette jerked on a string! He gets to his knees, and faces Jeff, who is hovering somewhere behind me. And I see the expression on fuckwad's face and the hardness of his cock and his heaving trunk as he's trying to catch his breath - he's being driven crazy by whatever he's looking at! Of course, I wanted to sneak a peek at what he was looking at, i.e., Jeff flexing his mountainous body, but I played along.
So this punk's eyes are like, all agog, and his chest is all tense and blown out and veiny, and his abs are gasping for air, and his cock is straining outwards til it looks like a flagpole -- then his eyes roll back in his head and a stream of milky fluid spurts out the end of his piss-slit. Again, again, again, his muscle butt clenches, his huge legs buck, and he jolts his hips upward, sending a fresh torrent of jizz in the general direction of my boyfriend. I got fucking drenched! Showered by enough of this guy's semen it seemed like someone threw a bucket of cum at me!
Shit - can any human cum this much? I ponder as I gasp - and cups of the sweet salty gel of Mr. Olympia fill my mouth and slide down my throat into my belly. It must be a gallon! Can any MAMMAL cum this much? What's a rhino's typical load…like, half that? I gotta hand it to this guy - he dumps a decent load.
So this cocky bodybuilder is reduced to a quivering mass on a floor made slippery by his own cum. He's whimpering, just like I was earlier. It was so pathetic, and his body looked so hot, pumped to the max and reddened with engorgement, and yet utterly defeated - God, he was beautiful, glistening with sweat and cum. Naturally I felt that since he was helpless, it would be an excellent time to humiliate him further. Heh heh…
So I slipped down my zip, and slapped my cucumber cock in my fist. As he gasped for air, I straddled his massive overbuilt musclebound leg, spat on Jehosophat, and started stroking. His eyes pleaded with mine - he was begging me silently not to humiliate him that way, to mark him like a bitch, when he was so vulnerable. He was immobilized by the orgasm my boyfriend had just given him, and now I, a fuckin' punk jacked-up jock boy, not even a real bodybuilder, was about to mark him as my muscle-bitch. The anguish was plain in his face. A few short strokes, and I blew a wad on his abs. Then another, just so he got the point. The white jizz pooled, oozed down the troughs between his abs, like cream poured into an ice-cube tray in slow motion.
Jeff, of course, is laughing like a hyena behind me. Thinks it's goddamn hilarious, the way I've got Mr. O. left devastated on the floor before me, like he's my goddamn personal cum-pig.
"They're pathetic, these competition guys," Jeff says. "Total fucking queens. Show 'em the tiniest bit of muscle and they go to pieces like pussies."
Now get out of here, Jeff says to Mr. O., and Mr. O. crawls away like a muscle-bound bear, back to his fuckin' lair or wherever.
"I keep them because they do shit for me - buy me food, turn tricks to raise money for me, deal with tailors and such -" here Jeff laughed. "We're like a little commune, all in support of the biggest amount of muscle a human male has ever produced !" I.e., him.
He leans into me, and for once thank god I can barely see his body, just his angled, chiseled face close enough to mine that I can feel his stubbly, dewy cheek brush mine, and his hot, sweet breath moistening my beard, and for a second I'm just back with my Jeffie, my boy, like always - and he whispers: "See, they're hoping I'll do to them whatever the FUCK they imagine it was I did to myself, so they can be beasts too, with muscles like a team of oxen and cocks like sperm whales'." Gulp…
"And maybe I will someday. It'd be interesting to see what would happen on subjects like that… I mean, if my formula worked so well on me, who started as a sweet ripped-up jock boy grad student, what mightn't it do to a freak-ass Mr. O. champ who's already 300 pounds anyway?? The fact that his body is already used to a state of constantly forced protein synthesis, means the formula might stimulate in the subject a commensurately inflated response…" blah blah blah, blithely jetting off on one of his typical over-technical, boring-as-hell scientific lectures. Of which I understood exactly jackshit.
When I managed, by snapping my fingers in front of his face, to reign the dope back into our world, and remind him that I DON'T HAVE A FUCKING IDEA WHAT HE'S TALKING ABOUT, he says "Sorry babe…" He knows this drives me nuts about him. So he cheekily adds: "I love you so much I forget you're dumb as a box of hammers." The fucker had the gall to wink at me.
His apparent insult made my heart skip a beat - because in a weird way, I understood that the dynamics of our relationship were just like always. See, our months of separation had been hard on me; well, of course. I had taken the sudden rejection by a guy I thought was my muscle-soul mate, pretty rough. Shit - I remember all those sleepless nights, brain-racing about how much I hated Jeff and wanted him to suffer, working myself into a lather of righteous anger, promising myself that after the way he'd treated me, I wouldn't take him back even if he should suddenly come crawling back to me with proof he'd been kidnapped by aliens, or hiding from the CIA, or something.
But now, to my relief, I understood that to all intents and purposes those months of tortured separation didn't make a damn bit of difference to our relationship. His teasing me showed me the little games we'd play that made us fight and make up a hundred times each and every day, hadn't changed a bit. It meant that, as much as we were obviously about to launch our relationship into a "new phase" - to employ a slight understatement - Jeff was still MY guy, and whatever happened, we'd always be together. Sorry if all this sounds sappy as hell and completely off-point…but I promised I would tell you exactly what happened, and that moment of reassurance was an important part of it. It allowed me to, I don't know, psychologically open myself to trusting Jeff. And that allowed me to make the grim choice he was about to offer me… Wait, wait, wait…I leap forward. Back to me and Jeff in the warehouse…
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