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  1. Guest

    no sex A Competitive Workout

    This is my first story. I wanted to adapt something that really happened to me in a trip, some years ago, and see if you like it (it's a short read) A Competitive Workout Lots of days have passed since I went on a vacation travel with some friends. Flying from Perú to make our dreams of knowing Hong Kong, Japan, Cambodia and Thailand a reality. Those were awesome days, Tokyo was actually a dream, and staying at Koh Phi Phi at the end of our trip was the best ending for it (and it was also quite weird, everyone, and I mean EVERYONE was insanely muscular, like if the water had steroids in it, but that might be another story...). And so, our last day of vacation arrived. The last night before taking the plane back, I stayed in the airport hotel, where they had this amazing and well equipped gym (maybe the best gym I've ever been). I always workout at night (like really late, after midnight), and it is usually empty at that time (even more when working out in a hotel hahaha). I went to workout arms as usual (and as you can tell from my pictures, that's my favorite body part to train). Biceps and triceps were the treat of the day. I don't know if it was because I had rested a lot before coming to train, but I felt particularly strong and my muscles resisted a bit more weight that night. Bicep curls with 40lbs in each arm, made my muscles pump to no believe, I could see two enormous veins filling with blood over my huge biceps (one on each arm). Then came the triceps extensions with 180lbs and the horseshoe on my arm became even more visible, I almost felt it was going to explode because of the amount of muscle that was pumping beyond believe... I was flexing, looking in the mirror, my enormous physique engorged with blood and a strength I never had before. My guns were HUGE. And then, suddenly, someone else came to the gym too. He was a really muscular man, taller than myself (well, I'm a bit short, it's not that difficult to be taller than me hahaha), and he was built like a bull. His neck was amazingly thick, putting mine to shame. He went to the mirror and started flexing his amazingly big muscles too, admiring himself. But, he also glanced at me while I was working out, like he was planning something. And then it began. Whenever I finished an exercise and started resting between sets, he went straight towards the weights I just left, and started lifting them for his own workout making lots of grunting sounds (which I really, REALLY hate hahaha). I could see all his muscles pumping and growing (which was a great sight, can't deny that), but somehow, he also seemed to struggle with the weights I was using. Whenever he finished a set, he always looked at me and flexed his gigantic arms, like if he was defying me to lift even more weight. I tried to ignore him for a while, just concentrating on my own workout, but I must confess I got really bored of his horrible grunts and his attitude, so I decided to teach him a lesson and END this muscle and strength competition. I went to the triceps pulldown machine, put the weight to the max (220lbs if I remember correctly), and started lifting a set with it, getting to 10 reps. My triceps became huge, and it was difficult to move them because of the pump they got. I didn't have to flex them in order to see a perfect horseshoe I had on the back of my enormous arm. Then, I got to the dumbbells, left the ones I was using before (40lbs), and got the ones that weighted 50lbs to do bicep curls, finishing my set too. My guns were amazingly huge right now. The two engorged veins were pulsating with power each time I moved the weight up and down, feeling how they got bigger and bigger. I couldn't touch my head as they were so pumped right now. It was like having two huge slabs of muscle attached to my body, responding to enormous strength. As I finished, now I was the one who looked at him, defying to outclass my already surprising strength. I'm not lying to you, he actually gulped. He was afraid. He had watched in awe as I moved all that weight with the power of my arms alone and started walking to were I left the weights. He first went to the triceps pulldown machine and tried to lift it to no avail. He tried, his face turning red, his already enormous muscles just stuck without moving... He had to reduce 40lbs of weight in the machine to finish his set. Then, he went for the 50lbs dumbbells. He looked at me and flexed his arms in a double biceps that would have amazed anyone in this forum, and then tried to lift the weights. He got them, each on one hand, and I thought that with his humongous size, he would be able to curl them... But he couldn't. Not even one rep. He went back for the 40lbs and angrily finished his set. I decided to give a coup de grace to his arrogance. One final set. I went to the dumbbell rack and got the ones that weighted 60lbs. I had NEVER lifted that much weight in each arm, this was a really a risk. But I felt confident, felt strong, my arms looked like they had doubled in size because of the pump and the adrenaline and I decided to try... And suceeded. I made my last set while looking directly at him as I pumped my arms. He was in complete disbelief. He watched this impossible weight (at least it was for me), go up and down for reps, my guns becoming EVEN MORE HUGE. I finished, drop the weights and looked at him while trying to cross my arms (it was difficult because of the pump really hahaha), and he just left the gym, afraid and ashamed. That was the most fun I’ve ever had in a gym, I guess competitive people like him deserve experiences like this one. This was a final selfie I took just after I finished, couldn't move my arms that much (my camera sucked big time at that time).
  2. Jesus

    My first time with a man.

    In this story, my name is real but Charles isn't his real name. The rest, is 100% true Charles and Me. My name is Jesus. Charles and I met at the high school. I was never into sports team, mainly because of the lack of interest and the lack of friends there. As I rejected to join, sports team, some of the great men of the course had chosen me to bullying me. In the othre hand, Charles was so quiet that we never knew if he was with us in class or not. Until one day, and after a being beaten by 3 cowards from the classroom, Charles broke the silence that characterized him and told me that he could help me. His offer took me by surprise because I really didn't have any friends in that course. He was the newest of all. Charles took me to his house where he showed me a gym that his father had in the basement and that nobody had used in a long time. Charles and I began to accommodate everything and in a short time we started training. We spent several months training at his home. We even sought help with his father, amateur bodybuilder himself, who told us what we should do to increase muscle mass. He made us a diet and we bought supplements to boost fat reduction and increase muscle mass. After several months both of us got results. When the end of the school year was approaching, we were leaving high school to go back to the gym, when they came again for me only. Charles stand by me and we get rid of the volleyball team: 6 guys defeated. They didn't mess with us again. We finish that course and continue training. We did it twice a day. One day after the morning training, Charles house was just for us. Both of their parents leave. I decide to do something unusual: I stand in front of the mirror and take off my shirt to see my changes. I flex my biceps, larger than when I started training. Same on my pecs, back. My abs were marked. Charles arrived at that moment. He kept looking at me. He also took off his shirt, so we started comparing our bodies. We take off our tracksuit. The legs showed an unusual volume. We decided to stay in our trunks. Charles shows me his back, and I approach him and when I touch it, my cock began to get hard. Charles felt my cock, and he turned at me and said: - Jesus... I don't know if this... I replied: - I don't know anything about this either, Charles... The fact is that when I realize I had reached into his waist and he was grabbing my cock. I felt his hand of steel and brought my lips to his mouth. He kissed me. I kissed him. I also grabbed his cock. It felt big and throbbed quickly. We got naked. And then we lay down directly on the floor. I was on my back and he was on top of me. We keep kissing for a while. Charles wanted to explore my body and I was excited to have him so close. My hands touched every part of his back and his ass, firm as steel. Our hearts could easily go out of our chests. I told him: Charles, fuck me... Charles brought a lubricant from his parents' room and a box of condoms. He started by lubricating my anus, and after he introduced his fingers one by one. I felt that his fingers made me see the stars. I said: Now please! I'm ready for you Charles! I can't wait anymore!... He said in my ear: Relax Jesus... I will do it with all my love. Do not worry. He lubricated his penis, and he put his cock inside me. He introduced his shaft, and started to move inside and outside. When I felt comfortable, he then introduced his cock. And he started to move me with all the strength of his abs, over and over and over again. We started to sweat. I pressed my buttocks against his penis so he would never take it out of me. I felt his load so hot, so pure, deep inside me. We were exhausted, but we wanted more. He said: Come on Jesus, now you. He put me on my back and put his head between my legs. He started to suck my cock. I licked his balls. He swallow my entire penis in his mouth. I was delirious with pleasure. When he was dilated, he put a condom on me and sat on me. He put his hands on my broad shoulders and I grabbed him by his waist. He bent down and we kissed. We begin to move first slowly, then with more speed and then with all our strength. He asked: - Are you going to finish now? I replied: - No. I'm still hard. He got off and put himself on 4 legs. I penetrated him again. Watching my cock inside her buttocks excited me even more. We continued like this for a long time until in a buttocks grip of Charles, I put my load inside him. We were sweaty. And in the meantime, my cock kept dripping. Charles felt it. He ask me to take my cock out. We lay side by side. We hug and kiss each other. We stay like this for a long time. Charles proposed that we took a shower together. I said yes. Then we do it. We enter the the shower. We could not help it. We lathered and our cocks became hard again. We take off the soap. I grabbed Charles by the waist and put him against the wall. He hugged me with his legs. His anus was just above my cock, hard, hot. I introduced it all. At once. He started going up and down. Meanwhile, I kissed her firm breasts, with her red and hot nipples. I ended inside him. Again. He told me to put my face against the wall. I did it like that. He sucked my balls again. And it penetrated me to the end. I was so excited that I screamed like I've never did before in my life. Charles rammed me with superhuman ferocity and strength. He ended inside me. When he took out his cock, I kissed him and said: You are the love of my life Charles. And he said to me: - And you're mine Jesus. We took a shower to clean ourselves, and went out and dressed again. After our first time together, we decided to train naked, when we could. Our relationship lasted years. Charles became a private guard. I am a school teacher. We live in different countries, but we always are together on anniversaries, holidays and Christmas. Our first time together shall never be erased from our memory
  3. Chapter 9: Good for Morale, Continued October 20th, 2021 1930 Hours Oral was hardly uncommon in the compound. In fact, Moster encouraged it. And Zaftig was fascinated by the men’s hunger for it, though he never took part. Not long after starting a P21 protocol, each man had developed insatiable an insatiable need to suck and be sucked. Cocksucking was therefore more than just a healthy release for the men: it was now mandatory. And though none of them would acknowledge themselves to be 100% gay, part of their acceptance into the program relied on each man’s private original tendencies towards pansexuality, boosted as they were by the behavioral blockers of P21. Over the years, each of the bodybuilders in Project Herculaneum had at one time or another sucked every other bodybuilder’s cock to full release many dozens of times. Often it happened in the showers after training, but sometimes it was after meals, as well. And as all were superlatively endowed with astonishing penises of uncommon weight, size, length, beauty and girth, no one was disappointed. Even Abdul Karim took part, much to the surprise of everyone. Though he never talked about it, even appearing bored, the more observant men noted a gleam in his eye each time he bent to service Gunst. Oral was against the rules on rest days. By the time training days came around again, the musclemen were already laughing, slapping each other on the backs during meals, and smacking their lips in anticipation. Fucking was another matter. All the men had been vaccinated against the virulent STDs that had long ravaged the world, and were now immune to any infection, their antibodies remorselessly attacking any invader. Butt fucking was an art. The soldiers were all equipped with powerful machines, all endowed with superb glutes, and all highly in touch with the pure waves of pleasure broadcast by their sensitive prostates. Good muscle butt fucking was serious stuff. As all the men were huge, heavy, and powerfully strong, it was like heavy lifting crossed with pure animal pleasure: one bull fucking another bull. Vigorously. Group fucks of spirited, high-energy muscle daisy chains were a once-a-month event, seriously organized and generally preserved on video for the records. Wearing full black leather masks in order to remain as anonymous as possible, and with deep black satin robes covering their individually distinctive bodies, the men gathered in the dimmed mess hall and connected their dicks to the next asshole in a line-up deliberately arranged by Moster. Muscle worship was not part of the evening. The point was prostate manipulation and bonding. Still, private fucking was not discouraged. A few of the men had distinct preferences for one another as fuck buddy, even as the cocksucking was group-wide and free-for-all. Of course, Schumacher had been fucking them all for years – except for Karim, of course. Apart from the daisy-chain sessions, no one dared to even approach Killer Karim from the rear - if he valued his teeth, that is. But so far, as far as he knew, no one man in particular had privately fucked Joe Tiffany – apart from the scheduled group daisy-chain fucks, where Moster was careful to make sure that the connections varied from session to session. Schumacher had fucked him just once in a group session, although as always as always he was masked and gowned. He could see through Tiffany’s mask that his eyes were rolling back in his head in pleasure, and Schumacher wasn’t sure Tiffany knew who he was. He knew it was Joe Tiffany’s muscular rear he was fucking, however, sliding up and down his supercharged big cock. That butt was pure, beautiful gold, a magically shaped combination of warm skin and raw, ripped power that was mind-boggling in its balance and tireless in its energy. Tiffany had taken charge of the fucking, as he gave it to the taller muscleman in the chain ahead of him, powerfully blasting forward into the glutes ahead of him, and, in perfect timing, also pumping his animal butt up and down on Schumacher’s cock with furiously blind energy. For his part, Tiffany knew full well whose cock had impaled his perfect butt that night. He didn’t share this information. From that night, he had a plan. Another plan, that is. In reality, all of the men were deeply aware of whose butts they were servicing, and who was manfully plugging his own from behind. The men had spent too many hours together in the rec room, on the workout floor, in classes and in the showers, not to be able to instantly recognize and distinguish each of his buddies. The wearing of the robes was nothing but a farce, but still they conceded, secretly further aroused by the spectacle of the volumes of black fabric draped with alluring mystery over each man’s rippling physique. Still, from that night on, Joe Tiffany knew that Herman Schumacher was just the man to regularly plow his supple, needy, bodybuilder-cupcakes behind. All he had to do was train him just a little bit over the following few months to ensure that he was captive, obedient, and would always be on call whenever Tiffany was of a mind to be mindlessly fucked. In the mean time, at night in his quarters his oversized dildo was getting the workout he bought it to do during one of his rare trips to town. He would energetically shove it deep into his butthole, rear his head back, close his eyes, and dream of Schumacher’s likely powerful thrusts. And, as Moster always said to Dr. Zaftig, who wasn’t entirely comfortable with the ritual behind the group fucks, “They need more sex than ordinary men. A lot more sex. Their metabolisms demand it. Besides – “ And Zaftig would say with him, in unison, “It’s good for morale. ” ******* Click here to read the full chapter....
  4. Excerpt fro "The Twenty" Chapter 7: Training Night 1: Good for Morale October 20th, 2021 1900 Hours The gym floor was buzzing with activity. Each man had a 5-gallon aluminum jug of water from which he regularly took enormous gulps, occasionally pausing to drench both himself and his training partners as needed to stave off the effects of the heat. All wore specially designed army green jockstraps. Regulation jocks were hardly adequate for their needs, and all 19 men (and especially Sergeant Moster) required XXX-large custom-fit pouches. Pendulously bulging, sweat, cum, and piss-stained, even these firm-gripping supersized mesh pouches could barely contain the musclemen’s super-sized genitalia. Gently curving cock shafts plunged from heavily veined, thin-skinned pelvic girdles on each man, leading to jaw-breaking cockheads. The jocks hugged the men’s cocks tightly, providing only barely adequate covering. The men’s powerful, over-developed glutes were fully exposed in back. Moster’s policy was that shorts and sweatpants were unnecessarily encumbering, and all around the room, as the men moved from weight to weight, their mountainous packages swayed freely back and forth. On most of the men, the top 5 to 6 inches of their veiny cocks were visible, plunging into their over-burdened pouches. Colorful do-rags, thick cable socks and black army boots completed their attire. On the floor, workout buddies Private Dan Gunst and Private Steve Waring were spotting each other through a sixth set of murderous curls. 24, 6'-10", 375 pounds, blond, huge, sporting a severe crew cut, and with a big nose and oversized hands, Gunst was a decidedly homely muscle giant, packed with imposing hardcore brawn. His bullish traps sloped massively from his 24” neck. The man’s 27-3/4 inch biceps were second only in girth and mass to Sgt. Moster’s, though he hadn’t yet attained the shapely cannonball peaks of Corporals Schumacher, Obatu, Blankenship and Alvarez. At 3. 8% bodyfat he tended towards a thin coat of luminous bloat in his 375-pound physique; he was all the same, super-humanly powerful, and during his training sessions the bloat seemed to melt into a latticework of shrink-wrapped vascularity. His partner, the 26-year old Steve Waring, was uncommonly good-looking, if not as big as Gunst at a mere 276 pounds of raw muscle. He was the far more ripped bodybuilder, having been in the program 2 years longer. Square-jawed, dimpled and brown-eyed, he always had a neatly groomed 2-day beard. As expected for a leaner man, Waring’s particular beauty lay in his batwing lat spread and chiseled abs, which tapered radically into a mere 29” waist. Now Waring was up. He tied on a pair of dirty wristbands and cinched them tightly, licked his lips, approached the 160-pound weight, and looked up at Gunst with a half smile. “What’re you waitin’ for? C’mon, get moving,” said Gunst impatiently. “It’s my third set. ” “I know. C’mon, man, you’re stalling. ” “You know what I want. ” Waring winked and grinned, and his dimples broadened deeply. Gunst rolled his eyes. “Yeah, yeah, I know. Jesus. You and your third set mantras. ” He leaned into Waring, cupped his palm, and roughly took the jock pouch bearing his partner’s heavy balls into his calloused hand. He flicked Waring’s leathery testicles with his thick thumb and with strong fingers stroked the curling cock shaft tucked into the jock. Waring closed his eyes and exploded breath. Gunst fondled the cock, feeling where the 11” flaccid shaft coiled into a sagging downward-pointing firehose U-shape. His own cock began to stiffen as the pouch bearing Waring’s junk began to expand under his touch. He gave a last thumb flick and stepped back. “Yeah!” shouted Waring, and he squatted, grabbed the weight, stood, and reeled off 15 perfectly executed curls. The veins in his biceps expanded and contracted powerfully, eddying currents of blood in a river of muscle. 40 feet away at the incline bench press, Privates Aja Jin, Reed Bogarde and Derek Washington were taking turns doing dumbbell flyes with 125 pound weights. Ginger-haired Bogarde was up, while black muscle giant Private Washington spotted him, and the Asian Private Jin muttered hyper-masculine, mono-syllabic bon mots of encouragement. "C'mon. Get big. Get huge. C'mon man. Push. We're right here. " The three heavyweights were generally together. If they weren’t closely supervised, they’d spend more time than absolutely necessary on pec workouts. A year before they had petitioned Moster to be allowed to wear their prized brass chained nipple clamps during their training. Moster had refused at first, but after they appealed to Dr. Zaftig, he finally relented. “The pain inspires them,” Zaftig told him. Moster had to agree that this one time, he had been wrong to withhold his approval. And once again, it was good for morale. The chain to Bogarde’s clamps was draped over the t-shirt and lay across his mammoth, boyishly freckled pecs. He’d completed 11 reps seamlessly, but was now pausing, his arms open wide, the dumbbells held aloft. “Do, it, man,” he growled, and as Moster watched, Private Jin reached over and with gentle, adroit firmness, tugged slightly on the chain. Bogarde’s face contorted with pain. "Push, asswipe!" screamed Jin. Bogarde completed the set. “Thanks, buddy,” he breathed, as he slammed the weights to the floor and sat up. “Privates!” Moster called out. “Remember I want to see you remove those clamps every 10 minutes for an exact period of 20 more minutes!” “Yes, sir,” said Washington, about to take his seat on the bench for his set. “By my watch, it has been more than 11 minutes. Those clamps come off. Now. ” “Shit,” muttered Washington, but he duly turned to Private Jin. “Take care of this for me, and I’ll do for you. ” “Okay,” said Jin. He lifted Washington’s t-shirt, and gently unscrewed the clamp on the left nipple. Instantly Washington’s face contorted with pain. Jin leaned in and tenderly licked the swelling brown nipple with his tongue for a few moments. Washington nodded, and Jin repeated it for the right nipple. “I’m good,” he said. Jin lifted his shirt and Washington returned the favor, caressing Jin’s nipples with his tongue as he removed each biting clamp. “Hey, what about me?” Bogarde grinned, slipping off his t-shirt. His large nipples pointed heavily downward, with lusciously round, perfect aureoles. He pumped his 58” ripped chest fully, fists at his side, and stood smiling expectantly as his two muscle buddies moved into his side, their heads to Bogarde’s chest, each manning a clamped nipple. For Private Bogarde, the only good thing about the unclamping was the minute of stimulation he received from his buddies to keep the excruciating pain he so adored from making him instantly cum into his overstuffed jockstrap. Once he came, his partners knew the chest workout would be effectively derailed for a good 15 minutes, and so to prevent such time wasting, both men were inclined to be extra attentive. Over time, they developed a routine. Together the two bodybuilders carefully unscrewed the clamps, and swiftly leaned in to kiss, lick, bite, stroke, and caress Bogarde’s freed, erect nipples. Bogarde moaned, his eyes rolling to the ceiling, his cock now swelling threateningly in his jockstrap. “Shit,” he moaned, and his buddies glanced down at the straining pouch. His mushroom-round penis head poked heavily over the top and began to climb up his abs. Jin and Washington knew that he might shoot his load at any moment. The two double-timed their nipple licks. After a minute, their tender administrations allowed him to regain control. He nodded – he was okay – and they backed away. Satisfied, Bogarde pumped his pecs to their fullest size and inspected them both closely, nodding with serious, unsmiling self-approval. Wet with spit, his stiffened nipples bloomed. “Freaky,” he breathed. His buddies nodded. “Awesome pecs,” said Jin. “Awesome. ” Bogarde stuffed his receding cock back into his jock, and winked at Moster. Moster watched. When it was clear Private Bogarde was past danger, he called out again. “Back to your work. You have twenty more minutes before you can put those damn clamps on again. ” The men nodded dutifully. Washington sat, grabbed a dumbbell in each hand, hoisted them to his knees, leaned back, and effortlessly pushed them both to the ceiling. His chest expanded mightily. Bogarde shouted the count. “1! 2! 3!” Jin spotted, his powerful hands lightly meeting Washington’s elbows with each rep. For a moment, Bogarde fondled his smarting nipples tenderly. He caught Moster’s stern eye and, still counting Washington’s reps, nodded sheepishly and slipped back into his sopping t-shirt. ****** Click here to read the full chapter!
  5. Excerpt from "The Twenty" Chapter 6: Casey Is Discovered 2014 The day that Casey Rockland first set foot inside a gym, he was a shy, tongue-tied, lonely, oversized 12-year old. He stood, frightened and abashed, at the front desk of Raw Weight. He had walked around the block for an hour before he found the courage to walk through the dark-glass swinging doors. Miles stood behind the desk. “Yes, son?” he asked after a moment. God, this kid has potential, he thought. Gosh, he’s handsome, Casey thought. He gawked at the huge, veiny arms that poured from the short sleeves of Miles’ sports shirt. The hugely rolling biceps made his dick twitch a little. From the moment Casey first laid eyes on Miles Donovan, he thought he was the handsomest, smartest, most masculine, most muscular man he had ever met in his life. Just the sight of Miles’ hardcore physique, casually displayed in loose-fitting slacks and a navy blue sports shirt boasting the Raw Weight logo, made Casey’s well-hidden, oversized teenage member leap to attention. It was love at first sight. Which was not lost on Miles. “C-can I join?” Casey finally stammered out. “You want to train here?” “Yes, sir.” “How old are you, son?” “Twelve,” answered Casey honestly. Miles paused, and then asked kindly, “Where do you live?” “San Jose Boys’ Home.” Aha, thought Miles. His heart went out to the beautiful, over-sized, sad-faced kid. “Of course you can join. Ever trained before?” Casey’s heart leapt. “No, sir!” “How much can you pay?” Casey’s mind was racing. How could he pay for this? He needed it so bad. “I can work for you, sir!” he blurted. “I can clean the locker rooms, and the toilets, and take out the garbage, and paint the walls, and – “ If Miles had allowed himself, a tear would have come into his eye. Besides, this kid had overwhelming genetic promise. He held up a hand. Casey fell silent, hopeful, tense, waiting. “No need for all that. Of course you can train here. We’ll discuss money some other time. Let’s get you started.” Casey’s heart leapt for joy. “Do you have workout clothes?” “N-no, sir.” “Okay, well, let’s get you fitted out. Come on along with me. Sid, take the desk,” Miles shot to the flirting young muscleboy trainer who was chatting up one of the wide-eyed fitness babes who trolled the workout floor, looking for available young muscle studs.“ And try to keep your mind on your work.” Back to Casey. “What’s your name, son?” “Casey Rockland.” “Well, Casey Rockland, I think you might have found your new home. Let’s see what you got. ” He moved out from behind the desk and approached Casey. Casey’s heart was still leaping. Miles Donovan was an astonishing man. Casey had never dreamed that such a huge, handsome, masculine, muscular man would ever take notice of him. Like an eager puppy, he fell into step behind Miles, who was leading him out onto the workout floor. There, dozens of men and women of various sizes, states, dress, and degrees of sweat were toiling away at nameless, complicated activities involving weights, machines, benches, bars, cables, racks, mats, balls, rings, and rope. One or two looked up curiously at Miles and the gawky big kid trotting behind him. William Obatu was one of those who looked up. Already in enrolled in Project Herculaneum, the handsome black African muscle monster Obatu was allowed to steal away from the compound to his home front of Raw Weight (with occasional forays to the 3rd floor, where he regularly held personal worship sessions). “Who’s that big kid?” he asked Miles one evening a few weeks later on the 3rd floor. He was working arms, doing slow concentration curls, generally ignoring the rich twinky boy on his knees before him, begging to worship the bulging cannonball biceps. “What kid?” asked Miles innocently, walking by. Obatu continued doing curls and feigned the same indifference that Miles was displaying. “You know. The big kid. Downstairs. He ever come up here to 3?” “Naw. Too young. ” “Pleeeeeaazzze…. . ” begged the handsome kneeling twink on his knees, reaching up in hopes to get a quick fingertip brush of iron muscles. Obatu glanced down, a little impatiently, and reracked the weight. “Whatchu want?” he demanded, and slapped the kid’s face. “Some ‘a’ this?” He flexed his biceps. The kid moaned gratefully. “Shut up, fuckface,” he commanded. Flexxxxxx… “Boom,” he said. “25 inches. Feel ‘em. ” Back to Miles. “Saving him for yourself?” “Nope. Saving him for your boss. And your commanding officer. Is Tyrone any good?” Obatu was perplexed. “Who’s Tyrone?” He continued flexing, gazing admiringly at his peaks. Miles pointed down at the kid who now was both reaching in vain to touch the iron biceps while feverishly licking the heavy downward-pointing bulge in Obatu’s tiny, heavily packed posers. Obatu shuddered with pleasure but covered. “These posers are too damn small. ” “You must be used to it by now. ” “You never get used to it. ” “I repeat, is Tyrone any good?” “What do you care? I’m paying $5,000 a month to be up here,” mumbled Tyrone, his mouth now scooping up the thick black muscle cock that tumbled from Obatu’s straining posers. Obatu glanced up. “Trust fund kid,” Miles explained. “Oh. ” He looked back down again and flexed his biceps again, a little more respectfully. “Hope you’re enjoying yourself. ”Tyrone moaned passionately and sucked vigorously. After a moment, Miles spoke. “Looks like fun. Mind if I join you?” “Oh, if you’re gonna make a party of it, be my guest,” said Obatu, stepping aside. Miles, still dressed, stepped in and unzipped his pants. His big cock poured out. In an instant the nebbishy rich boyTyrone had both big bodybuilders’ cocks in his mouth. His cheeks bloomed with the pressing pressure of double cockheads. “Flex for him. He likes it,” said Obatu. Miles flexed his powerful silver daddy 23-inch biceps. A slight tearing sound was heard. “Damn. Another shirt. ” He decided to take it out on Tyrone. He plucked the cock from his mouth and slapped his handsome smooth young cheeks vigorously with the now hard-as-steel shaft. “Nice move,” said Obatu. “Let me try that. Hey, asswipe. Over here.” And he smacked Tyrone’s face with his black cock. Soon Tyrone’s head was whipping from side to side, back and forth, his face being buffeted by heavy cock slaps. "Take us both, boy. One after the other," ordered Miles. Tyrone went into a frenzy, first sucking Obatu's cock, then twisting his head and sucking Miles' cock, back and forth. "Yeah, good boy," crooned Miles. A few minutes later the musclemen both shot, coating Tyrone's face with heavy layers of thick, creamy cum. Tyrone moaned as thick spurt after thick spurt emerged from each man's pisshole, painting his face, covering him with cum. “That was fun,” said Obatu. “Yeah, let’s do it again some time,” said Miles, walking away. "Clean that up, boy," he ordered as he strode away, squatting slightly as a zipped up his pants, putting his heavy, dripping cock away. Obatu resumed his workout, Miles headed back towards his office. Tyrone lay on a bench, ecstatically spent. “Now!” called out Miles, without looking back. “And use your tongue.” Tyrone leapt eagerly to the matted floor and did as he was told. ***** Click here to read the full chapter!