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  1. This week's theme is Fathers & Sons. https://www.pornhub.com/view_video.php?viewkey=117835245 https://www.pornhub.com/view_video.php?viewkey=ph5ae225b0083b3 https://www.pornhub.com/view_video.php?viewkey=ph58a56fc6e9ea3 https://www.pornhub.com/view_video.php?viewkey=491709894 https://www.pornhub.com/view_video.php?viewkey=ph59fce1e86cccd https://www.pornhub.com/view_video.php?viewkey=ph5a977f9febde6 https://www.pornhub.com/view_video.php?viewkey=ph59313f97d41e5 https://www.pornhub.com/view_video.php?viewkey=597672761 https://www.pornhub.com/view_video.php?viewkey=ph5b585e32c1228 https://www.pornhub.com/view_video.php?viewkey=ph5827eddf3a892
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  3. THE STORY SO FAR - Stephan is a police officer with a very well-endowed boyfriend, Tom. But Stephan's sex addiction to sex leads to him losing his job - and breaking up with from Tom. While staying with his parents in a quiet corner of London, Stephan observes something exciting: an alpha muscle Beast humiliating a fluffy, gentle, weak young beta called Olly. Now, the Beast is helping Olly grow - and it's happening at an impossible rate: muscle, height, cock, hair, character. Soon he begins to eclipse the Beast himself. Where will it end? Hakan's new boss/lover wants to see how far Olly pushes Stephan and vice versa. Stephan suspects that the men at Nico's gym - Uranus Gyms - are experimenting on Olly; he steals a flask of their protein supplement. The only man Olly sees as an ally is Nico's musclebound Dad, the owner of Uranus Gyms. Who will get to Olly first - and why? Chapter 10 is here. 11 Tom of FinsburyPark Monday October 8th I had the text from Stephan during my lunch-break yesterday, while I caught up on some patient admin: Are you busy tonight? Think I've got something you could take care of S x It turned out to be a busy day. I'd been up till midnight the night before doing website stuff, then up again at 07.00 and speeding into the surgery before I knew what I was doing. Mainly colds and flu jabs, which is about right for this time of year. At the moment, it sometimes feels like a computer game while I'm at the surgery, people come in and I assess their symptoms and zap them, automatically. It's not my real life any more, and that's okay. I try not to think about my evening job while I'm in my daytime world, or my mind starts drifting, suddenly I'm away on some flight of fantasy — and there's some pensioner with inflamed sinuses sitting there, waiting for my reply. The text really did break my cool for a minute. The last time I was in touch with Stephan was kind of odd, one of those middle of the night things — I was up late working on the site. Mostly going through pictures taken by Dean. There were some pictures where he got right under my ball sack, catching the afternoon sunlight bouncing off my cock shaft, making the whole thing look like a third leg, and not just that, but a third leg that had a great fat thigh. I was thinking: 'This must be how Stephan remembers me. Just a big juicy cock with my face bobbing some way above it.' The idea got me hard. I texted Stephan. We had a sexting session. Then I had to go into work. I hadn't really pinned very much on it. Just letting off some steam. Now he wanted to come over? And see me in the flesh? Not only that, but on a night when I'd be working — not that he could have known about that, and my second job. Or did he? Did he know what I'd been up to? The afternoon was more difficult for having to concentrate on all that. I felt like I had to give it some thought. Consider if another time would be more suitable. Ask him exactly what he meant by something I could take care of, as if I didn't know (although, as it turns out, I didn't at all). But it was too late. I'd already said, Sure. Half seven? Pasta? T x He came round dead on at half seven. I opened the door and he was leaning in the doorframe, looking slightly nervous. I'd forgotten just how tall he was, or how hot those glasses looked on his long, square-jawed face. He looked me up and down. 'Wow,' he stumbled, taking me in. 'Peak beard. Lumbersexual. Very on trend.' 'Well,' I said, suddenly self-conscious, and looking down at myself. 'You know how it is. I have my character to live up to.' 'Character?' He looked at me blankly. So he didn't know. 'Come in,' I said, 'before I overdo my fettuccine.' He shut the door behind him and came into the kitchen with me. With a 'donk', he put a bottle of Merlot on the kitchen table. 'Brought a bottle,' he said. 'Well, in fact, I brought a couple.' 'You know what I like,' I said, turning away to give the pasta a warning stir. He smacked my arse playfully. 'Don't I?' he said, mischievously. 'How's things? You're looking well.' I turned toward him, and before I knew it we were in an affectionate embrace, my face was upturned, we were exchanging chaste little kisses on the lips. Just a tad more than friendly — but then, isn't that where we'd been, the day we had our trial split? Was that a good thing? A promising thing? Or a sign of how far we'd get and no further? 'And you,' I said. 'The lumberjack look really does suit you,' he said. 'I mean, really really.' He looked down at my jeans. 'Have you distressed those on purpose to show off your cock, or...' 'Yes,' I said. 'I have.' 'Ah. You've come out of your shell,' he said. I realised I was holding my breath, and let it out. 'I hope so.' 'It's been useful, this break,' he said. 'I feel that way, anyway.' 'Have you been seeing anyone else?' I asked him, busying myself with the wine bottle so I didn't have to look him in the eye. 'Well,' he said, 'I, umm, wouldn't say that exactly. Nothing serious. I've been going out to my way to avoid it. Thanks.' He clinked his glass to mine. 'And you?' From somewhere in the corner of the kitchen, where my laptop sits, I heard a loud, 'PLINK-PLONK'. 'Excuse me,' I said, and went to check it. It was from Lumberjackoff83. 'Mmm, he looks fucking hot. Go 4 it.' Quickly, I gave one of my less engaged replies. 'Thx m8. Stay posted.' I turned back to Stephan. He was tasting my pasta sauce. 'This looks great,' he said. 'Got any courgette? Sorry, but I've been working in a cafe, and I just know it would go perfectly.' I was thrown by this conversation. It was slightly more innocent than I'd been girding myself up for. 'Of course,' I said, forcing a grin. I opened the fridge door and passed him his required vegetable. 'PLINK-PLONK!' said the laptop, and then 'PLINK-PLONK!' 'PLINK-PLONK!' 'PLINK-PLONK!' Stephan gave the machine an odd look. 'I'm not interrupting something?' 'Not at all,' I said. 'Quite the reverse.' I went over to the laptop, where fans of mine were sending through suggestions on what we should do with the courgette, none of them even remotely culinary. I decided to throw them a sop. 'I hope he puts it in my mouth,' I told them all. 'But the night is young.' Stephan was still working on the sauce, so I decided to work on my glass of wine. He looked up at me and smiled. 'So come on, answer the question, sunshine, or do you want a nice little ride down to the station?' 'PLINK-PLONK!' said the laptop, but I ignored it. 'Well,' I said, 'Dean's been coming over a bit. You met him, remember?' 'Yeah,' he said, turning back to his sauce. 'And then there have been — one or two others.' I finished the glass of wine. 'Actually... I run an internet porn site out of my flat.' Stephan dropped the spoon into the pan. He had to hunt through my cutlery drawer for sugar tongs before he could extract it, scrape sauce back into the pan, wash his hands, pick up his wine, give me his full attention and say: 'What?' 'Dean got me into it by taking those photos,' I told him. 'He told me my cock could go a long way.' 'It does go a long way!' smiled Stephan. 'So your character...' 'Yes,' I said. 'Tom of FinsburyPark.' He considered. Then looked at the laptop. 'You're — we're not — being watched online now?' I nodded. 'Do you want another glass of wine?' 'Yes please.' He shook his head. 'But you used to be so shy...' 'I know,' I said, and then laughed. 'And this is much more fun.' 'I don't doubt it,' he said. 'Videos?' 'And photoshoots, and live streams. Like tonight. I was due online anyway, I couldn't switch off. People pay their subscriptions, after all.' I sipped the wine again. 'What do you want to do now?' The laptop 'PLINK-PLONKED' with suggestions. Stephan looked down at my semi-hard cock, beautifully outlined in my jeans, then switched off the heat under the pasta with a sharp click. 'I think we should eat,' he said. We ate. We talked. It was an experiment, and we both knew it, but we were both giving it a good shot, and each of us responded well to that good vibe from the other. I told him about the little that's been going on at the surgery, about how I'm still reading Proust, which is of course not strictly true, but I am still trying to read Proust, and that's good enough for me, so it should be enough for him. I told him my Mum and Dad were okay. He told me his were fine. He told me more about his job at the cafe, and his boss, and how they're not seeing one another, not really, but every now and again, one thing leads to another. And he told me about the job itself, and about how happy he felt to be putting great big delicious meals down in front of people. Encouraging them to relax and indulge themselves, instead of policing them, literally. I put my hand on his. 'That's great,' I said, 'but, come on. You didn't come round to tell me about how you can bake lasagne.' He took a deep breath. 'No,' he said. 'I didn't.' He poured himself a big glass of wine and took a long gulp. Then he said: 'What do you know about hypertrophy?' I shrugged. 'It's when muscles grow. Perfectly natural process.' 'Can it be done unnaturally?' 'That's the gym industry,' I said. 'It's an important stage. You manage it carefully, building up to it, supporting it, even stimulating it.' I rolled up the sleeves of my plaid shirt and flexed for him. 'Here's the results of my gym club membership and bulking powder!' He smiled politely. 'Looking good.' 'Hmm, I want to get bigger,' I said. 'Not much but, you know — for the audience's sake...' The smile vanished. 'You look great as you are. What's the obsession with size? I mean, okay, I like fit guys. I even like the occasional muscle guy, but...' 'Get to the point, love.' 'This is the point. Except, I suppose, it's not. You see,' he said. 'There's this lad called Olly.' So this is when he tells me about a young guy called Olly who works at his local library. Not seeing him, either, it seems — straight as the proverbial die, apparently. When Stephan first met him, he was just an ordinary, slightly geeky, fluffy young bloke, perhaps even a little undersized. Now, as Stephan sketches it, he's hit the gym. Hard. And it's paying off — perhaps a bit too much. 'I can't overemphasise the change,' Stephan said. 'He's like a different guy. A cave man. Alpha male. Pure muscle. Plus, if I'm any judge of these things, he's started to grow — down there... I mean, is that even possible?!' 'I wish...' 'You!' he said. 'Of all people!' 'Everyone would like a few more inches,' I said. 'I love it when guys come over to the flat whose cocks are even longer and fatter than mine. And they love it too. Size is power, power is sex. But with your boyfriend...' Stephan made an exasperated sound. 'Alright,' I said. 'But you do sound concerned about him, for somebody you're not fucking...!' 'Yes,' he said. 'This is new! And I want to make sure this stuff he's been taking is safe! And I knew you would know.' That's when he got the flask out of his bag and put it on the table. 'You want me to run tests on a protein shake?' I said. 'For your new boyfriend...?' 'He's just someone I care about,' Stephan said. 'He's not interested in guys. He's not interested in much apart from astrophysics and how to put on "slabs of muscle".' 'Okay,' I said. 'I'll do it tomorrow. Now, let's talk about nicer things.' 'Such as?' I could see he was still het up, the poor thing. 'Such as dessert,' I said, going over to the fridge and fetching out my secret weapon — banana split sundae. 'PLINK-PLONK', went the laptop, rather predictably at this juncture. I watched him spoon ice cream between his lips, making little grunts of pleasure as it went down. A few gulps and my dick was fully hard and straining at my jeans — I'd worn my tightest pair, just for the occasion. 'This is good,' he said. 'I know,' I said. 'Are we still on cam?' he asked. 'You bet,' I said. He took this as his cue to pick up the banana and lick the gooey sweet cream off it. Lick, lick, lap, lap, swallow. A smile, with the goo still coating his lips. 'You're not out of practice then,' I said, 'even if your boyfriend is straight.' 'I try and keep in training,' he replied. 'Just in case the situation should arise?' He looked at me over his glasses. 'Don't worry. It has risen.' 'That was quick.' 'Maybe that magic drink has aphrodisiacal qualities too,' he said. I gasped. 'You didn't...' 'In the sauce, when I was adding the courgette,' he said. 'You don't mind? It hasn't done Ollie any harm, after all. And you said you wouldn't mind an inch or two more.' I was flabbergasted. At the same time, I was boiling up with the need for sex. And the thought that he had expected it, too. After all, you can't do an experiment if you don't make careful observations. 'Shall we see if it's done anything yet?' I asked, standing up. He leant across the table and unbuttoned my jeans. My dick sprung free — I've taken to going commando — and stood proud, solid and purple, a few inches above my ice-cream bowl. It was too tempting not to — I angled my hips downward and stuck my throbbing knob into those big blobs of sweet icy goo. It was colder than I'd expected- the sensation was amazing, as it ran down my shaft and dripped onto my shaven balls. Frosty and smooth. Stephan let out a long sigh. 'Delicious,' he said. 'Any bigger than you remembered?' I asked him. 'I'd forgotten that girth...' he said. Then he shoved his chair back, grabbed either side of the table to steady himself, and leant across for a lick. Hot tongue, cold cream, solid muscle through slippery goo, sliding up pulsing, sensitive, throbbing man meat. God, I'd missed him. Every time I'd fucked with someone new. Good as it was, it wasn't somebody who knew what I liked. I felt a pang of emotion go through me. 'We're not getting serious, are we?' I asked, breathless. 'I'm always serious about things I put in my mouth,' he said, and I could see the sex drunkenness coming over him. He leant in and sucked on my big prick with a sudden rush of sex hunger. I grabbed the back of his head and slid my dick home to the back of his throat. Nobody else has ever been able to take it. Even when I did it this time, he had to gasp for breath afterwards. 'It's all coming back to me now,' he said. I slid my hands down into his shirt, remembering too: remembering how he loved my hands on his nipples, tugging and teasing them. He gave a soft grunt, and leant in to swallow my dick down to the base again. 'Wow,' he said. 'It's amazing how you're shaven. I can cram it in even further.' He went down for another go, as if to demonstrate. 'I've learnt a thing or two,' I said, 'having joined the porn industry.' 'You already knew all you needed to know,' he said, after another long gulp on my dick. He sat back in his seat and looked up at me. I folded my arms. 'Maybe not.' 'It's good to know you're never satisfied.' 'Maybe you just couldn't satisfy me,' I said. He pulled his t-shirt off over his head. His long curly hair was dusting his shoulders. Behind the kitchen smells, I could smell the bittersweet tang of perspiration and cologne. I could smell it because I had my hands on the chair-back and I was leaning in, kissing him, my hands on the chair. 'PLINK-PLONK!' said the laptop. He rolled toward me, still more drunkenly, rolling his body towards my touch. I concentrated on exploring his mouth with my tongue, fighting his with mine, licking the residue of ice cream and banana from his teeth. He was writhing now, eager for me to lay hands on him, so I drew back, and kissed him delicately on the lips. Now he swivelled on his seat and arrogantly pulled down his jeans and boxers so that his hard dick sprang up, smelling sweet and inviting as that particular kind of coffee bean he had bought once, the one that tasted of Jaffa oranges growing on mountainsides somewhere where the sun was burning, the coffee that was still in the cupboard, waiting for him to come back. I inhaled that sweet scent of a cock begging to be taken in the mouth and — just kissed him, lightly at the side of his mouth this time, then on his soft, smooth throat. He was in a fury of need now, and he put both hands on the back of my head and forced me down toward his cock. I wanted to swallow it up, I wanted to take it down to the back of my throat, but I knew what I was doing. I stuck out my tongue and let it slide down that angrily hard prick as if it were an ice-cream to be slowly savoured. 'Fucker,' he said, and moved his hands down to caress my neck, then kneading my shoulders, entreating me to answer his lust. I ran my tongue even slower back up his shaft, towards the head. I lingered just below the head, and then in one very slow, very deliberate, very firm movement, I licked his glans with the flat of my tongue. 'Christ,' he said, and I watched a fat blob of precum well up out of his piss slit and tremble like a dew drop. 'PLINK-PLONK!' 'PLINK-PLONK!' I bent in and stuck my tongue deep in, hard against the root of his cock, lapping hard at the area between his balls. I could smell that precum now. I licked back up and in one, two swirls I cleaned that precum away, and then I was back down at the root again. He reached for his cock but I grabbed his arm and pulled it away. He leant back proffering his arsehole now, and this I decided was a good idea, and set to work in there. More smells, and that amazing smoky taste in there. I felt his heels come to rest on my shoulders. 'That's more like it,' he said, sleepily. There was lube in my rear pocket, and I squelched it all over my fat, throbbing dick till it was slick as buggery. I was achingly hard in my hand, almost numb with pleasure. I settled back on my heels, my dick standing up and out of my jeans trousers like a Robert Mapplethorpe picture, except this dick was in colour, and it was warm and it was quivering. I saw Stephan's hand go for his cock again but I growled, 'No touching.' 'Please,' he said. 'I need it.' 'You want my big hard dick?' 'No,' he said, 'I don't want it. I need it. I need it now.' I ran my cockhead around the perimeter of his arsehole. 'You need this?' 'Fill me up,' he said. 'You sure?' 'PLINK-PLONK!' 'PLINK-PLONK!' 'PLINK-PLONK!' He laughed. 'That's you told.' I fucked him slowly, just how he liked, in the kitchen chair. He scrabbled at my shirt tweaking my tits through the plaid material. Grabbing at my balls as they slabbed against his arsecheeks. He scratched his beard and sat back, looking relaxed, like a whore on his day off. 'Come on, Tommy, you can go deeper than that,' he teased. I smacked his arse smartly with my right hand and set to a faster rhythm. Big-hard-dick, big-hard-dick, sat-is-fy me, sat-is-fy me. Satis-fy me. Satis-fy me. Satisfy, satisfy, satisfy, satisfy, Big. Biggg. Dick. Dick. Dick. 'Oh yeah,' he said. 'You're doing it now.' I lifted his thighs higher to improve my angle (tall guys need extra work) and he was nearly upside down, hanging on to my shirt like a mountaineer. Button by button it began to tear. His cute little round tummy, the sort that only someone in their thirties who has begun to relax about life can have, wobbled deliciously as I banged him, I banged him, I nearly broke my kitchen chair. Dicking him, dicking, big — hard — dicking him. 'Satisfy me, Stephan,' I said, snarling, the voice I'd begun to take on after a couple of nights' hard scrutiny of porn films. His eyes suddenly widened. 'Tom!' he gasped. 'I think it's working! Holy fucking mother of fuck, I can feel your dick getting even bigger -- inside my arse!' The surprise took the snarl out of me, and then suddenly, yes, I could feel it. I've always been pretty proud of my big dick. Now I felt like I had a log sticking out of my fly. 'Yeah,' I said. 'Yeah! Just like your boyfriend!' 'You're my boyfriend, idiot!' he said. 'Oh god, though, I don't know if I can — I don't know if I can take you, this size!' His eyes were watering. 'Take it, Stephan,' I said, slamming it home slowly, steadily but mercilessly. 'Take that extra huge hard cock!' 'PLINK-PLONK!' And then I realised I was big enough suddenly that I could fuck him and, quite casually, lean across and suck on his cock. At last I allowed myself the taste of that policeman cock, and the precum that kept brimming up and spilling down his cock, and I reached across and pinched his left tit, and suddenly — Suddenly I could feel a giant fuckstick deep in my arsehole, while my dick was getting serviced, and I wanted my tits to be felt up, and I realised I was seeing things through Steve's eyes. Some sort of magic had occurred. And Jesus Christ, but it was true about my dick. It was enormous. Not only that, but my chest had broadened and my lumberjack shirt was filled out with more muscle than before. Where he'd torn it open, I could see the deeper crease between my pecs, a fresh sprouting of dark hair. He wouldn't have seen the difference, but having been to the gym that afternoon I knew — I knew that I'd grown, just a little, in every muscle, since I started fucking him. Since I drank that potion. I could feel Stephan's concern for Olly now. He knew it was the potion. The stuff Doctor O was producing. He'd seen and tasted and felt the effects of it, first hand (and first arse). And even though I got an image of Olly in my Stephan's mind's eye, and even though he looked fucking hot, like Colby Keller on steroids but English and straight, still I realised he'd want to fuck him. He wanted to protect him. Protect him in a way that he never thought to do when it was me and him. With me and him, he wanted risk, danger, illicit pleasure. That ruled everything. He wanted to be dominated by a massive cock and covered in spunk. And Tom could never give him that. Tom was a sweet, mild-mannered GP. He was gentle. He was nice. He didn't want to play games or get dirty or dangerous or wrong. Till tonight. I looked up at the new Tom and he looked back at me, teeth grit in his beard (so much smaller and neater than Olly's), his arm muscles locked (they were so sweet compared to Olly's, they were the first flush of muscle gain), his nipples stuck out proud from his ripped shirt, and sweat was soaking his chest hair, and his giant dong, half the size of Olly's, but then, what could you do with a dick that big, his giant dong sliding in and out of me, and his hand pumping on my dick. We were both feeling that we'd arrived at a new place together. A place where we could lose control. And I could feel all the minds of the viewers at home. I could feel them wanking their dicks or finger-fucking their pussies, hundreds of them. I could feel each one as they approached their vinegar strokes, watching us go at it hammer and tongs. I could see you, dear reader. I could feel your heart beat. I could feel you nearing the edge, losing yourself in the fuck, the wank, the emotion. And then of course we were cumming — them and you and him and I, and for a minute there, we didn't know who was who, we were both howling with pleasure, and the bitterness was all over my tongue and lips, and I was spunking so hard, and he was licking his lips and we were absolutely drenched, drenched in our spunk. 'PLINK-PLONK!' applauded the viewers through Tom's laptop. And I'm writing this upstairs at Mum and Dad's. I'm Stephan. I remember now. I'm Stephan, and Tom was my boyfriend. I didn't realise he felt that way about me. I didn't realise there was anything to go back to there. And now he knows how I feel about Olly. And downstairs, the doorbell has just rung.
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