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kadethewolf

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About kadethewolf

  • Rank
    Newbie

Profile

  • Location
    Earth ;)
  • This profile is a...
    real profile.
  • Gender
    Male
  • Orientation
    Gay
  • What are your interests?
    Aviation
    Theatre
    Singing
    Nature
    Urbex
    Hair braiding
    Muscles/ muscle worship ;)
  • What are your stats?
    Height: 5'10
    Weight: 165-170
    Build: Lanky with a bit of padding. Broad shoulders tho.
  • What are you seeking?
    To explore and love my sexuality through experiencing the male body.
  • What are your dream stats?
    I don't know yet. I have a little bit of a belly that I'm a little insecure about, but I also don't mind, if that makes any sense. I'm also trying to love and take care of my body as it is. As you all should too.
  • Favorite Stories
    Plane Muscle by louisbalfour
    An American Muscle God by Londonboy
  • Favorite Bodybuilders
    Markus Borgoff
  • Got Any Fetishes?
    Construction worker muscle
    Lift-and-carry
    Laser nipples
    Electricity/sparks
    Very specific things like that

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  1. PART TWO I laughed breathlessly as I came down from my post-orgasmic high. Oh my god, that was amazing. I became aware of a warm, wet spot in my pants from the semen, as it seeped through my underwear and my shorts. “That was fucking sexy,” spoke Mark in his husky, smooth baritone of a voice. “Just, the way I was driving you crazy, the way you kept spasming and moaning. I loved doing that to you. I love making you feel good.” he admitted in earnest. I peered over Mark’s rippled body, the golden dusting of hair smoothed down with a layer of sweat that made him glisten in the lights of the garage. His broad, tan shoulders. Shoulders I just wanted to lay my head on while he bearhugged me. His voluminous, round pecs, each finished off with a nice, hard, enticing nipple. His rippling six pack abs, so cobbled and bumpy and so unimaginably hard. His brawny arms, his baseball biceps, his bulging triceps, his veiny forearms, his rough, calloused, beefy hands. And then up to his devilishly handsome face. Beautiful, blue eyes with a mischievous glint. Short blonde hair, slightly tousled from his metalwork and our makeout session. His charming smile. His perfectly kissable lips. His sandpaper stubble that was so hot to touch. His boner through his trainers. Upon noticing my observation of him, Mark set down the grinder and took off his safety glasses. “Damn it, Tommy boy. You’re so fuckin’ cute. Lookin’ at me like that,” Mark exclaimed. This, this… this beautiful hunk of a man, this physical wonder, this perfection… he thought I was attractive. I mean, I always saw myself as decent looking. On the skinnier side, beginning to accumulate a little bit of padding as my metabolism slowed down. Tall. Lanky. I worked out a little. But I always saw myself as averagely handsome, nothing more. But this man, he saw me as so much more than that. I was held by a mixture of awe and flattery. He… me??? Mark seemed to read my mind. He walked over to me, a slight swagger defining his movement. “C’mere,” Mark whispered once more. Crouching down to eye level with me, he delicately removed the glasses from my face and kissed me lightly on the nose. Then, he wrapped his long, ripped arms around me, and lifted me clean off the couch. He was rugged, but gentle, knowing exactly how to carry me in such a way that my sprained ankle was not disturbed. He carried me out of the garage. I felt almost like a child, the way he so effortlessly picked me up. I put my head on his shoulder, and felt the hard, warm muscle beneath me flex and release with each step. It felt incredible, and I began to feel aroused again. Mark made his way back to the couch where he first addressed my sprained ankle. He set me down on it, and grinned down at me. “You scare me sometimes, you know that ri-AH!” I was unable to finish as Mark tackled me onto the sofa. “I’ve got you now, boy. You’re never gonna escape. No sir. Not on my watch. You’re mine, now. And now, you’re gonna feel my power.” he purred. Our gazes were locked into each other, our faces inches apart. Mark straddled me, and his brutally powerful arms pinned mine down against the cushions. He eyed me deviously, looking down at the collar of my shirt. He raised one eyebrow, as if asking to remove it from my body. “Rip it, stud,” I commanded, surprising myself. Mark’s face froze slightly with shock, before he composed himself, staring me down with a mock-sneer. “Oh yeah?” He asked sarcastically. He grabbed the collar of my tee in his thick, strong hands, and with one powerful tug, tore my shirt clean down the middle. Looking at my bare chest now exposed to him, Mark gazed at it, as if committing every little detail to memory. He stopped dead in his tracks Just as I was about to give him an inquiring look, Mark swooped in, kissing my neck roughly and passionately. I shouted and laughed in surprise, as the sensations from his lips traversed through my body like an electrical fire. It felt so good, this barrage of kisses. I was being turned to jelly by this muscle man. And yet... An idea suddenly came to mind. “Oh, am I now? We’ll see about that,” I responded breathily, my words fighting their way out. And I began to wrestle against Mark, my smaller forearms straining against his much bigger, stronger ones. “Again? Do we have a rebel, now?” “Feel MY power, Mark.” And with that I slammed my body upward against Mark’s as best I could. Except because of my ankle, my chest flew forward and just kind of bounced off Mark’s pecs, before I flopped back down on the couch. Not my proudest moment. Mark stared at me for a minute, stunned, before he burst out laughing, his deep, sexy laugh booming through his living room. “Oh, that was real cute,” said Mark, leaning his handsome face dangerously close to mine. “That was real fuckin’ cu-” Mark’s teasing was cut short as I slammed my lips against his. His hold on my wrists loosened, and I was able to wrench them free, this time wrapping my arms tightly around his muscular back. Mark growled into the kiss, his large arms snaking around my neck. Our hardening members ground against each others’ bodies. As we kissed, I rutted against Mark’s massive thigh, and I could feel his boner through his trainers rubbing on my lower torso as he rubbed and tweaked my nipples. My heart hammered in my chest. My breathing was rapid, and caught in my throat repeatedly. My dick strained against my pants to the point where it was becoming painful. Mark stared down into my eyes lustfully. “C’mere,” he rasped. “I’m gonna take care of you, my Tommy boy. I’ve got you, right here, right now. You just hold onto me. Feel my power. Feel my body against yours.” he growled into my ear, his rough, husky voice and warm breath making my head tingle and my mind foggy. With that, he trapped me in a tight bearhug and began to suck on my neck. I screamed out in pleasure. Every inch of my skin was alive and buzzing. I shivered with excitement. I had never felt so protected in my life than I did in this moment with Mark, as his giant, hard, warm body lovingly smothered my own. Our pelvises thrusted rhythmically with each other, as if in synchronization. Mark growled animalistically in my ear. Listening to the sound of his pleasure drove me wild. Almost there. Almost there. “Mark, I - oh shit - Mark I’m gonna cum!” I shouted desperately. Not much time left. Any second now. “Then hold on to me, my boy. I’ve got you. You ready for this? Huh? You fuckin’ ready?” Mark purred. “Yes! Oh fuck fuck fuck MARK!” I screamed desperately, clawing into Mark’s meaty back, my head buried between the couch and his pecs. “Oh yeah! Fuck yeah! Here we fuckin' go, Tommy boy. FUCK YEAH! FUCK YEAH!” Mark roared in ecstasy. We climaxed together. Mark squeezed my smaller frame tightly against his massive one, and he held me as powerfully intense orgasms ripped through our bodies. I cried out and my body shook wildly as my seed shot out of my cock, through my pants, and mixed with Mark’s own cum spilling out of his trainers. He held me as we rode out the last waves of our climaxes with each other. Sweat dripping from his brow, Mark collapsed on top of me, panting heavily. “Holy… holy shit, Tom. That was incredible… you’re incredible,” he breathed. “Damn. I’m flattered,” I replied. Then it occurred to me: This was my first time doing anything sexual with another person, let alone another man. Mark had made me feel so safe, comfortable, and loved, that I had forgotten to be horribly nervous and awkward about the whole thing. “I mean… I’d never done anything like this before now.” I admitted. Mark sat up, straddling me. “Wait, so I was your first? Dude, really?” He asked incredulously. I nodded slowly. “You were so good. Damn, you’re fuckin’ great at this, man. I never would’ve known if you hadn’t told me,” replied Mark. My hands moved to grasp his bigger ones. I stroked them gently and slowly as I spoke. “You made it so easy. Look, I don’t know if it’s just because you’re really charming and reassuring, or we’ve got great chemistry, or you’re super sexy,” I quipped with a wink, pawing at his perfect pecs, “but you were the perfect person to be my first. You made me feel so comfortable and sure of myself. Thank you.” I answered honestly, peering up into his deep, blue eyes. “I’m honored, man,” said Mark quietly. He leaned down, pressing his lips against mine softly and sweetly, his hand cupping my chin and cheek. I breathed in his manly, spent, sweaty scent, relishing this tender glow of a moment between us. We silently ended the kiss. For a few moments, Mark rested his head in the crook of my neck, his muscular body a loving, affectionate shield wrapped protectively around me. I closed my eyes, listening to the sound of his soft, steady breathing, his warm breath tickling my ear gently, the slight whistle of air through his nose. I pressed my cheek against his and enjoyed the contrast of slight stubble against smooth skin. I explored his back with my hands, rubbing soothingly and feeling the strong, sinewy muscle relax against the light touch of my fingers. I could've lay here forever, with Mark. My strong, powerful protector. After a period of just holding each other and listening to each other breathe, I felt Mark nudge me. “What’s up?” I whispered lazily. “You know, I still have some work to do.” he responded. “Hmm?” “I could teach you a thing or two about grinding. How’s that sound?” END OF PART TWO
  2. Hey guys! Thanks so much for your wonderful comments. I'm glad to have found a supportive community of muscle-lovers like myself, and I'll definitely be continuing the story at some point to be determined. I would like to take this opportunity now to invite those of you who do visual art to draw one of the scenes from the story. I would like to see how you guys visualize my story. Thanks, Kade
  3. Hey guys! I'm new here, and this is my first foray into erotica, specifically muscle worship erotica. Anyway, this is one of my biggest fantasies. Enjoy, and constructive feedback is appreciated. Thank you!!! THE GRIND Okay, here goes nothing. It was a sweltering hot summer day, and I couldn’t really be bothered to do anything. Well - didn’t want to, but had to. I had work that morning as a waiter at Moe’s Diner, and it kind of insanely sucked. Not that it was the worst gig - I could be outside in the humidity and hellish heat, but really, when you have a ton of plates to carry and Mr. Crotchety-as-Fuck Senior screams at you because his ice cream is too cold, you kind of wish you were somewhere else. Somewhere where they actually give you a livable paycheck and don’t breathe down your neck all the time. Anyway, my shift was over at noon, and I hurriedly punched out, but not before my boss Dick gave me one more gentle reminder to close out the day. “And remember, Thomas, the customer is always right.” he lilted condescendingly. “Sure thing, Dick” I replied, brushing past him on my way out the back door. “That’s Mr. Lawson to you. And furthermore,” he continued unwaveringly, “Give people what they ordered next time.” “Yes sir,” I replied hastily, before the door shut behind me. ‘Or I could give them my middle finger, how about that’ I thought to myself as I mounted my bike for the ride back to my apartment. I rode out of the parking lot of Moe’s onto the street next to the city park. The combination of the scent of trees, laughing kids on the playground, their parents talking, the warm summer breeze… it all felt wonderful, relieving after a day of work. I began to pedal faster and faster, feeling my lips curve upward into a grin. I was testing myself, seeing just how fast I could go. Maybe not the best idea, considering I was on a road with actual traffic, but I was having too much fun to think about slowing down. I turned the corner onto the final stretch that led to my apartment. ‘Just a little faster. Just a little faster and we’re-OH SHIT!’ WHAM! I was vaguely aware of an impact, of flying off my bike and onto the back of the parked red car I hit. My cheek slammed into the rear windshield. Not breaking it, luckily, but the impact was hard enough to knock the wind out of me. I rolled off the windshield onto the sidewalk. Another impact, this time, sending a sharp pain through my foot as my weight fell on it. As I lay there in a dazed stupor on the sun baked pavement, blood seeping from a scrape on my elbow, I heard a car door open, a pair of feet scramble toward me, and a concerned, deep voice question me. “Are you okay man?” the voice asked me again. I slowly sat up to address its owner and- I stopped dead in my tracks, my mouth unable to formulate words. Did I mention I’m gay as hell? He was beautiful. In a masculine, rugged way. Ripped, cut muscle. The first thing I registered were his bare, tan shoulders, strong-looking and broad under his tight black tank top. Vascular, bulging arms hung down from them. Developed triceps and powerful biceps, roadmap veins, all covered in a soft dusting of golden hair. So much muscle. “I….I… I’m okay-ish,” I answered, trying to collect my wits, my head spinning. The man extended one of his brawny arms out to me to help me up. I grasped his thick, warm hand, and he pulled me to my feet. “Ah shit shit shit,” I yelped as my right foot immediately protested weight being put on it. He held my waist with both his hands. So warm. I instinctively grabbed his brawny shoulder for support. It was flexed and hard from him holding me. If I wasn’t in pain, I’d be so turned on right now. “I’m so sorry about that! I was just riding from work and I got carried away. I’ll pay for the damage! I’ll-”I stammered, looking at the scratches, the bent rear bumper, the twisted mess of my bike. “Woah, take it easy. I think we’ve got bigger problems right now,” the man replied smoothly with a slight Southern accent, gesturing to my foot and my general condition. He continued to hold me up, and had me count backwards from ten, tell him what my workplace was, and how old I was, in order to assess whether there was brain damage. But aside from being shaken, being minorly scraped up, and my foot hurting, I felt relatively okay. And a bit breathless from being in such close proximity to this physical wonder. “I’m Mark, by the way,” the man said kindly. “Thomas,” I replied. “Nice to meet you Thomas, though I wish it were under better circumstances,” said Mark. I managed a laugh, trying to calm myself down. “Hey, tell you what. If it’s okay with you, why don’t I drive you to my place, and I’ll get you patched up, and take a look at your foot.” spoke Mark kindly. “Okay, sure” I replied unsuredly. “Don’t worry, I’m EMT certified,” said Mark, and upon noticing my hesitance, added, “I’m also not a crazy serial killer”. This time, my laugh was genuine. Mark helped me into the passenger’s seat of his car, carefully loaded my bike into his back seat, and got in on the driver’s side. As he drove, we chatted a bit about our lives. I told him about my shitty job at Moe’s, and he talked about his shifts as an EMT. ‘A sexy EMT, saving me’ I thought, as I admired his body. While he told me about some of the injuries he’d witnessed on call, I admired the way his right forearm tensed and bulged as he gripped the steering wheel. I followed it up his ripped shoulder and to his large pectorals. Straining against the black fabric of his tank top. And finally up to his face, where his deep blue eyes focused on the road ahead of us. His silky, Southern voice. The tuft of short blonde hair sticking out of the dark blue baseball cap he wore backwards. His golden stubble on his square, manly chin. I felt myself beginning to get hard looking at him. I nodded and responded at appropriate places, keeping the conversation going as best I could. Really, Mark was a nice guy. And I tried to only take furtive glances at most, so that I didn’t make him uncomfortable by staring at him. Harder still. Plus, maybe he was homophobic. Unlikely, from how easygoing he seemed to be, but not impossible. I kept up my light banter with Mark/secret admiration of his perfect body until we pulled up into the driveway of his house. Mark wrapped a muscular arm around me for assistance, and we walk/limped up the pavement to his front door. I relished the feeling of his sturdy arm flexing and radiating heat into my back and waist, and I limped slightly slower to draw out the sensation as much as possible. Once inside, I basically collapsed on his couch, basking in the cool air and sinking into the plush cushions. Mark gave me a warning, and then pulled off my right shoe and sock as carefully and quickly as he could. I hissed and winced in pain as he probed my ankle with dexterous, knowing hands. “Ankle sprain, Tommy,” he announced. Tommy. No one’s called me that in years. I like that. He says it so casually. “I’ll be right back, I’ve got some compression bandages in the medicine cabinet. Just sit tight, man,” said Mark, before he rushed off. I found myself admiring a framed picture of him in his college football days, when he returned with the compression bandages, some antiseptic and bandaids for my scrapes, and a glass of ice water. I accepted the water gratefully and distracted myself with it while Mark wrapped my ankle in the bandages and cleaned up my various wounds. Talk about Southern hospitality. “Looks like you might be here for a bit” said Mark. “That’s honestly okay,” I replied, “I’ve got literally nothing going on today.” And it’s true, I don’t. “Hey, listen, I’m doing some metalwork in my garage today. I could give you some headphones so you don’t have to listen when it gets loud,” Mark offered. Metalwork. Him. His hot body. I’m intrigued. “No, that’s fine, man. Actually, do you mind if I accompany you?” I asked, beginning to get hard again at the thought of his body and the physical labor of tools. “Not at all,” Mark responded. As I began to get up, Mark ordered me to stop. Oh right. My ankle. No walking for me. “I’ll carry you. Piggyback style,” said Mark cheekily, with a wink and a smile. My hardon jolted at the thought of Mark carrying me with his gorgeous muscular body. My heart began to race excitedly. I started to breathe heavily. “Um, sure,” I replied, secretly contemplating how much I was going to enjoy this “Hop on!” exclaimed Mark, turning around and bending over so I could mount myself on his hard, rippling back. I took one long look at the bulge of his shoulders and delts, tapering down to the small of his waist, the large groove down the center of his back, even visible through his tight black tank. Then, I gripped his hard boulder shoulders tightly, jumped as best I could, wrapped my arms around his thick neck and delts and he caught my thighs with his large hands. Mark was so strong, easily lifting me onto his mountain of a back. I could feel his shoulders, delts, and lats rippling and flexing underneath my apparently light weight. I wasn’t small, but Mark carried me like a child with his Herculean strength. As he walked, my dick ground into his powerful back. I was hard instantly. As we made our way to his garage, I found myself tempted to reach my hand down and grip his rock hard pecs. I restrained myself, though, and once we reached his garage, he set me down on an old green cloth couch. Mark turned to me, towering above the couch. I felt like I was the David to his Goliath. “Now man,” started Mark. “I noticed you giving me some looks earlier, in my car.” Oh shit. He noticed. Mark seemed to perceive my panic, and stepping in to reassure me, said “I want to make sure you’re comfortable here, and I want you to feel good. Because that would make me feel good,” he said suggestively. I was speechless. My cock throbbed in my shorts. “How would you feel, if I flexed my bicep for you?” He asked, a devilish glint in his eye. “I would very much like that,” I answered. “Wonderful, because I would very much like that as well,” Mark replied, smirking. Looking me right in the eye with those piercing blue orbs, Mark knelt down to my level and slowly began to pump his right bicep. On the third pump, he let out a soft, sexy grunt and held the pose. “Touch it. If you want.” He whispered overly seductively, giving me his best incubus wink. “Oh my. Why I don’t know if I can take it,” I replied in my best Southern belle accent. He stared amusedly at me, grinning briefly with perfect white teeth. I returned the smile. And then I reached out and gripped his cannonball bicep. When they say rock-hard muscle, they literally mean rock-hard muscle. Because it felt like there was marble under his stretched skin. I could not make a dent in it, no matter how hard I tried. I cupped both my hands around his bicep and tricep, and I could not fit my fingers fully around them. My cock strained against my shorts as I felt the power of his arm. “How big are they,” I asked, breathless. “Nineteen inches cold, and they can get to twenty when pumped,” Mark replied coolly. “Damn,” was all I could say in response. Mark then mounted the couch on his knees, careful not to disturb my ankle, before bringing both his arms up in a double bicep pose. My heart (and dick) leapt, as I continued to rub the bulging, ripped balls of muscle. I squeezed both his biceps in my hands, and could not get them to budge. They were so smooth, and hard, and warm. So warm. “So, Tommy boy, what else do you wanna see? The choice is yours,” Mark whispered in my ear. The choice is mine. This godly titan of a man is mine. “Pecs. Pecs and abs,” I stammered. “What was that, my boy?” he urged me. “I want to feel your pecs and abs,” I got out, my voice unwavering. “Feel you want? Then feel you shall,” he purred. I reached out tentatively for his left pec, but instead, he trapped my hand inside his bigger, more meaty one. He shook his head with a mock pout, and let go of my hand, which fell to rest on the couch. Crossing his monstrous arms, I watched his forearms bulge as he peeled off his tank top and tossed it to the side. I let out a gasp as I admired this titan’s physique. Two voluminous, hard pecs, separated by a deep ridge. And below it, eight hard abdominal muscles. Valleys and ridges separating each individual ripple of muscle. My dick throbbed agitatedly, desperate for release. Mark watched my amazement intently. I locked eyes with him, staring straight into those piercing blue orbs. He grinned mischievously. Almost mysteriously. “What are you-?” I began. “C’mere,” he husked. Suddenly, he lurched forward, his bulky form coming to eclipse my smaller one. His massive thighs straddled both sides of my body, and he wrapped his large arms around me. It was a loving bearhug, and I was surrounded by the smell of sweat, light cologne, and man musk. And pecs. Huge pecs. And that’s when I noticed just how hard his penis was through the fabric in his trainers. “Feel my power” he declared gutturally, the vibrations from his tremulous voice sending goosebumps down my arms. He began to bounce his pecs against my face. Feeling the rock hard muscle release to firm and contract again, my dick ached for release. Pulling back, Mark looked down at me. At seeing my newfound ecstasy, he threw his head back and laughed. A deep, sexy laugh that made his beautiful eyes crinkle. “God, you’re so cute, Tommy boy,” he confessed. I beamed proudly at his affectionate, adorable nickname for me. “Come on, indulge in these abs. I can’t make any promises that I won’t smother you again, though,” said Mark. “Surprise me with that. I wanna feel you against me,” I replied breathlessly. “Sure thing,” retorted Mark, grabbing my right hand. He lead it over to his abs, and began to run it up and down them extremely fast, creating a loud slapping noise. It was incredible how bumpy, hard, and rippled they were. Mark let go of my hand, and I traversed the grooves of his abs on my own. I marveled at how one’s stomach could be developed to the point that hard muscles bulged and rippled out of it like this. “Mark, you’re so fucking sexy,” I said breathlessly up at him. “As are you, my boy,” he said in return. Mark moved his large hands from the back of the couch, where they were resting, to cup my chin and cheeks, before swooping down and kissing me on the lips with his own soft, warm pair. I gasped, and pressed back against his lips, embracing his large frame. My cheeks burned with a fiery blush. We stayed like that for a while, just kissing and embracing each other, enjoying our touch, our cocks grinding against each other through the fabric. Eventually, Mark pulled away, but still straddled me. “That was fucking incredible,” I rasped. “I know. I’m glad,” replied Mark. “Anyway, bud, I’ve really gotta get this work done,” Mark began. My face fell in slight disappointment. “Feel free to distract me at anytime though,” he offered cheekily. As Mark grabbed his tank and put it back on, I became curious. “Mark, what work do you have to do specifically?” “Oh, nothing much. Just a bit of angle grinding some metal parts for a bedframe I’m building. Why do you ask?” Angle grinding. Holy shit. That was one of my biggest fantasies. I’d always lusted after construction workers, and often searched pictures on the internet of bodybuilders angle grinding shirtless or naked. Something about it oozed power. How tough they were. How they didn’t care when stray metal sparks bounced off their bare muscles. Almost like it energized them. “Can I tell you something?” I asked. Mark gave me a suspicious look. “Go ahead” he replied deviously. “I have this fantasy,” I began, “this fantasy where I stumble upon a shirtless, bodybuilder construction worker, and he’s grinding metal or welding, and he’s unfazed by the sparks and the light and the loud noise, and I just think that’s so sexy. They just look so powerful doing it… I was wondering if… maybe … you were willing to-” Mark cut me off. “Hell yeah Tommy boy,” Mark answered enthusiastically. My cock jolted again. And with that, he grabbed his tank by the collar, and tore it off right down the middle, clean off his defined frame. “Won’t be needing this anymore,” Mark remarked, throwing the shirt in a trash bin. “I’m gonna give you the show of your life, Tommy boy,” said Mark. He donned a pair of thick safety gloves, and walked over to the garage door, where a large, rectangular metal frame stood. He lifted it easily, his monstrous biceps flexing, and placed it on his work table, directly in front of the couch I was seated on. Making sure that it was secure, Mark strode over to a cabinet, and pulled out two pairs of plastic safety glasses. He put one on, and handed the other to me. “Safety first,” he said. I put them on, and continued to watch intently. With that, he opened a drawer attached to the worktable and extracted a five inch angle grinder. He plugged it in, and then grabbed the tool, ready to begin to use it. Mark looked at me, flashing his devilish grin. He flexed a bicep for me, before returning his hand to the machine. He pulled the trigger twice, causing the grinder to start its loud whine a couple of times. “You ready for this?” asked Mark. “Fuck yeah,” I replied, amazed at what was about to happen Mark chuckled good-naturedly at my excited response, before triggering the angle grinder. The blade began to spin, and the saw gave a loud, whining whir. He gave me one last eyebrow wiggle, before lowering the blade to the metal. The sight was mesmerising. Metal sparks immediately burst from the frame where the grinder made contact and showered over Mark’s amazingly ripped body. The buzz was deafening, but so, so sexy. Mark was unfazed by the hot sparks bouncing off his muscular body. He couldn't care less. They didn’t hurt him. He was too powerful. I began to massage my penis, while viewing this sensual, erotic light show. Mark lifted the blade from the metal, let out a low, sexy growl, and began to grind the metal again while still growling. My cock throbbed. I was so close to cumming. So close. “Mark!” I yelled above the buzz. Mark nodded his head at me, still focusing on the work at hand. “I’m gonna cum!” I exclaimed. “FUCK YEAH. DO IT BOY!” He roared. With a loud, booming yell he brought the grinder above his head, and brought it back against the metal. The sparks blew against his body once more as he thundered his war cry. I moaned, and my back arched. I could feel the cum soaking my underwear, going right to my shorts. This absolute hunk of a man who was so willing to play out my fantasy for me, was giving me the most mind-numbingly intense orgasm of my life. I was in heaven, and wouldn't have it any other way. END OF PART ONE
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