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  1. I remember the first time I saw Coach use his super strength. He thought he was the only one in the gym, but I had stayed late to make sure the team’s uniforms were all clean for the upcoming game. The man’s sonic moaning boomed through the empty building – causing me to leave the laundry room to go see what was happening. I knew it wasn’t sounds of pain, but it did seem like someone was getting a lot of pleasure somewhere. I followed the noise. When I got to the weight room two things became obvious – one, I finally figured out what was causing so many objects from the center to disappear and two, Coach had a special way he liked to masturbate. To look at him, you would have thought nothing more than there was a well-built older man. He was nice to look at, but really nothing spectacular. What I beheld that night, however, changed that opinion for the rest of my life. There, in the middle of the room, in the midst of all the weight and machines, stood the gray-haired shirtless Coach shoulder pressing a bar so loaded down with weights it had to be over a thousand pounds. On closer inspection, I could see that it was two bars twisted together, which would make sense since one bar could not withstand that much weight. Even two tightly twisted bars weren’t strong enough to prevent the contraption to bend dangerously low on either end. The man was cranking out reps with the enormous thing like it was a light twenty pounds. There wasn’t any sign of strain on his face, nor was he breaking out even in a slight sweat. It’s what he did next that definitely changed the course of my life forever. Coach simply moved his right hand over a little and dropped his left hand down to his side. He continued to crank out one-handed presses – with enough weight to equal a grand piano. I let out a gasp and instantly was scared I had given my presence away. The Coach continued to rep the insanely loaded bar without even a moment’s hesitation. At the same time, he undid his pants and pulled out his large hard cock. As he watched himself press the weight up and down in the air with one hand he started stroking his meat in the same deliberate rhythm. On the twenty-fifth lift the Coach let out a loud growl and shot a big load of cum across the gym – splattering the mirror where he was watching himself, which was about twenty feet away. Even in the midst of his orgasm, the super strong daddy continued to crank out repetitions. I was too shocked at his strength to dump my load right then and there, but I was harder than I had ever been in my entire life as I watched him one arm lift what surely was an impossible weight to even consider moving. When his orgasm finished, the elder man stuffed his dripping cock back into his pants with his free hand and then grabbed hold of the twisted double bars again. I watched in complete awe as Coach bent the bar upward – turning his wrists outward, which made the two weighted sides clank together up in the air above his head. The metal bar bent so easily you would have thought it was nothing tougher than a wet pasta noodle. Coach wasn’t even breathing hard. It was clear all of this was child’s play for him. The man stared at himself intently in the mirror. I knew I could not even begin to lift what he held aloft above his head, let alone even try to roll it across the floor. I now understood why there were so many busted padlocks around the gym, why people complained of cars being in different spots in the morning when they came out to the parking lot, and why I’d sometimes find scraps of missing forty pound plates on the floor. The Coach was some kind of superman and, until now, he had kept this a secret. I realized immediately that I would keep his secret, too. I wouldn’t even let him know that I knew. I would, however, come back to see him do more amazing things. That’s when I heard his voice and the hair on the back of my neck stood straight up. “Matthews! Meet me in my office.” So, he had heard me, and he knew exactly whom it was that had made the noise. I thought about running, but something told me that wasn’t a good idea – and, besides, I was too turned on to not talk to him about his strength. I walked slowly behind him as he easily carried the weighted bar to his office – a room off the corner of the gym. When I entered, the mangled bar and weights were on the floor and he stood there with his arms across his chest watching me. “You’re working late, Matthews.” “Yes sir. I . . . um . . . wanted to finish the laundry. I’m sorry, Coach.” “Hell, why are you sorry, son. I knew you were here. You’ve got the best work ethic of any twenty-two year old I’ve ever met. I’ve been waiting to talk to you like this. Try and lift it.” I looked at him dumbfounded. He used his chin to indicate the thousand pound ‘elephant’ in the room. It was as if he could read my mind. I desperately wanted to see if all that poundage was real. I was kind of ready for the surprise of seeing it was all fake, just for the fun of it – made of Styrofoam or something else which looked real but made it easy to lift and manipulate. I walked over to the bent bar, which stood straight up in the air since the major weights rested on their side on the floor. I saw that Coach, himself, had twisted the two bars tightly together, but he had clearly had to widen the holes on the plates to get the double bars through them. That explained the warped middle holes of all the plates in the gym. It had always baffled me what machine had widened the things. I now knew it was Coach’s fingers. Even though it was fun to imagine all of what I had seen was a trick, I knew it wasn’t. Before I even touched the demolished bar I knew it would be solid as hell and unmovable. I pushed and nothing budged. I moaned a little. I shoved harder and, again, nothing moved even a fraction of an inch. The thing weighed over a thousand pounds. I’d never even begin to make it move. Coach walked over beside me – coming so close the heat off of his body enveloped mine and I was suddenly surrounded by something akin to a warm fire on a cold night or a blanket that’s wrapped snuggly around your body. He grabbed the top of the bent bar with one hand and lifted the thing into the air – easily. “Four of you couldn’t lift this thing, Matthews, and look at that, I do it with one hand. Pretty hot, yeah?” “Yes sir.” “Yes Coach.” “Yes . . . Coach.” “That’s a good lad. There’s nothing I like more than being a coach. Well, that is, after being super strong. Helping young guys reach their full potential is what I’m all about. I think you’ve got a lot of potential, Matthews. How about it? Would you like to be able to tie metal bars together as easily as you tie your shoes? You want to have the strength of a hundred men wrapped up into that body of yours? Just think of the things we could do together – and older superman with his younger super sidekick. I think we’d make a great team. How about you?” While he spoke, Coach had picked up a random forty-pound plate and proceeded to start poking his forefinger through the steel in the middle of the plate. It was like he was only poking through wet tissue. His fucking finger pushed through thick metal with a small pop that filled the room. I couldn’t even begin to wrap my head around how much strength was in just one of his fingers. As if he could read my mind, the Coach started using his pinkie to do the same thing – making it clear that his kind of strength was coursing through all of him. He finally just folded the plate in two, as if he were closing a book. The screeching sound of metal being forced to do something it wasn’t supposed to was both extremely satisfying and a little terrifying. “Your big strong elder Coach needs a play buddy – someone he could wrestle and not worry about crushing. I want someone who can spot me when I bench a bus or a dump truck. I want someone to be able to take my ejaculations and not be blown apart with so many holes it looks like they’ve been in battle. I want to arm wrestle on the hood of an SUV and ruin the vehicle when I slam my opponent’s strong arm down with enough force to make the thing look like it was totaled in an accident. I want to watch a guy get close to lifting as much as me and see him get turned on by his own strength. I want to fuck so hard that buildings collapse around us.” “Um . . . was there a question in there, Coach?” I asked after a few seconds of silence. He was now breathing heavy and his crotch was back to full mast. “Not really, son. You’ve already been chosen,” the elder superman responded. “I just thought I’d give you a preview of what I’m going to do for you.” “I think my answer’s been poking in my pants since I saw you lift all that weight earlier, Coach,” I replied. “I only ask one thing. I want you to put a ring on my finger. I want it to be for good. I want to be two married supermen. I want to be a kept boy.” This pleased the elder man tremendously. He gripped the edge of the plate in his hands and squeezed some of the metal off between his thumb and the side of his forefinger. It was as easy as if he were tearing off a chunk of bread. He then took the ripped metal and started rolling it between his palms – compressing hard. Soon he had a perfect small cylinder of metal. He squished it slowly between his thumb and forefinger to flatten it a little. The Coach then blew on it – making it clear that his little handiwork had made the metal so hot it could easily be molded. When he deemed it ready, he took my left hand and wrapped the thin sliver of demolished steel around my ring finger. He tied it in a little gem like bump on top. It was clear that thing wasn’t coming off my finger unless the big man took it off himself. I could still feel warmth radiating from the manipulated steel. I looked up into the elder man’s eyes. “Time to give you super powers, boy,” Coach said to me, smiling. “With just one round of my sperm you’ll be benching four hundred. Imagine what you’ll be doing after a week of my plowing. Don’t worry, I can control my ejaculations until you’re more powerful.”
  2. londonboy

    Coach Duffy

    I was at my local gay watering hole called ‘Spew’ enjoying a few beers and chatting with other regulars when a big meaty hand drops and covers my entire shoulder from behind. A voice – at once familiar and out of place – called my name. “Little James Parker – how the hell have you been? I turned around and was immediately blessed with a view that would excite any card carrying gay man, but I also felt a memory of fear that started in my toes and quickly shot to the top of my head. Before me stood one of my biggest challenges in high school – Coach Duffy. Martin Duffy to be exact. He was still the drop dead gorgeous fur covered he man he was when I was in high school eight years ago – radiating a manliness that seemed to shoot out of every magnificent hair on his body. He did appear larger than he was all those year ago and that made me momentarily forget how evil he was back then. His smile was still white straight-teethed brilliance and his scruffiness made him look like he was going to throw you over his shoulder and take you to his cabin in the woods for weeks, just so he could have his way with you. I pushed all of my immediate lust aside and mustered up the most bitchy diva attitude that I could. “Well, if it isn’t Coach Duffster. Who let you in?” The big man’s smile actually disappeared for a few seconds and I could tell the use of his old nickname – as well as my obvious contempt – shook him a little. He quickly regained control of himself, however, and smiled even brighter. His blue-green eyes even sparkled more. “I guess I deserve that, James. I just wanted to say hi, that’s all.” His ‘tail between his legs’ attitude took me off guard. I had expected some cocky statement or, worse, a punch to my gut. For a split second we stared at each other. I could tell the guys around us didn’t know how to react. There was a feeling of awkwardness and no one was trying to change it. “No, really, Coach. What ARE you doing here?” “Hanging out with friends and getting a drink.” “But why here?” “Um . . . because I’m gay.” “Shut the fuck up, big boy! You lie.” My reaction made his smile grow and suddenly the shirtless muscled wonder relaxed. My shock seemed to please him. I was truly astounded by this revelation, thinking I had sized up all five hundred and thirty two students and staff at my high school and knew all the ‘friends of Dorothy.’ I even knew about the fullback a year behind me that liked to get pounded by smaller men – screaming like a little girl (no offense to the ladies intended). Nothing could have been more shocking to hear than this specific news. Duffy could see my disbelief and decided to clear it up instantly. He leaned in close as he spoke. “No lie. I like to suck cock.” “Oh my god!” I exclaimed and punched his right pec at the same time. I immediately noticed that his mound of beef, hanging so gloriously over his hard abs didn’t give at all. It was a lot harder than my fist. As if he instantly knew what I was thinking, Coach Duffy bounced his monstrous chest a few times. I had always mesmerized by a guy that could control that part of his body in that way. He clearly liked thrilling me – and let the bouncing continue for a few more repetitions. “Since when?” I suddenly asked. “Since forever. Before you were even born. I knew I was gay when I was eleven.” “No fucking way. Coach Martin fucking Duffy is a poofter!” “Card carrying.” “Then why the hell were you so hard on me during gym class for three years, you Neanderthal?” “I had a feeling when I came to talk to you our conversation would final land on this topic,” he said, looking down, as if he were ashamed, and taking a quick swig of his beer. “Well of course it was, muscle daddy, you were relentless!” I noticed his moustache twitched, along with his chest, arms, and crotch when I called him muscle daddy. That information was instantly stored for retrieval later on. Right now, I was only interested in hearing what he had to say about being Atilla the Duffster in gym. “Um, there were a couple of reasons,” he stammered. “Well, just start with one, lumberjack!” I was using different titles for him to see which ones turned him on. Clearly, he was an outdoors kind of guy because this one caused some twitching, too. I was already warming up to my old teacher, but I didn’t want to let him know that. I wanted answers for all the nightmares he had caused. “First of all, I wanted to toughen you up. When you came to the high school you were out, but you weren’t confident about it. You had a couple of close girlfriends, but you didn’t stand up for yourself. You were also hardheaded and would listen to anyone that tried to help you. Remember the first week of school I tried to give you some advice and you just stood there – not looking me in the eye and body language that told me to mind my own business. I decided to take a different route for my help. I started giving you grief. I paired you up with some of the guys who taunted you the most when we did partner activities. I called on you first to do new activities. I even gave you huge partners to wrestle during that part of freshmen year. And it worked. By the end of that first year, you stood your ground with any student or teacher that challenged you or bullied you. You actually became a role model for other students – gay or straight. Senior year you got voted class president and were awarded the most likely to succeed superlative. I’m not saying I caused all of that to happen, I’m just saying I helped. I’m not sure the guy that came walking up that first day of freshman year could have advanced so quickly without a little toughness from me. I always had your back, though. Anyone that ever bullied you got a personal visit from Coach Duffy – making sure they didn’t do it again and that they never spoke about the visit.” A flood of awareness washed over me. Immediately, I realized that everything he said was true. Gym class had toughened me up – prepared me for many battles that awaited me. Hindsight helped me to see that, now. So much unnecessary anger flew out of me at that exact moment. My shoulders relaxed . . . completely . . . probably for the first time in many years. I also had always thought my staff member in shining armor – a rumored intimidator of bullies – had been Principal Jenkins. I looked at the gorgeous Coach in front of me with new eyes. He could sense all that was happening within me. He didn’t say another word. He just waited for me to process things. “You said there were two reasons you were hard on me. What was the second one?” The big man’s face turned red. His arms tensed hard and his chest heaved up and down. I actually knew what he was going to say before he said it. I had sensed it all night . . . and I suddenly realized I felt the same way. “I . . . um . . . needed to hide some inappropriate feelings,” he said softly – and I actually heard some people around us emit dreamlike ‘ahhhhs.’ “I’m twenty-six now, Coach.” “Yes you are,” he replied, stepping closer to me.
  3. I didn’t remember leaving the bar or saying goodbye to Harry or anyone else. My last memory of the night was my giant man’s arm wrapped around me offering the kind of security that must only be equaled by a mother’s womb. I was sucking on Bud’s giant chest and marveling at the fact that the hunky bartender and I were equals when it came to submitting ourselves to the massive senior citizen holding us off the floor. It still amazed me how effortless it was for Bud Stevens to lift two full-grown men – or, for that matter, twenty full-grown men. It was just an afterthought for him – oh I’m holding two guys as easily as some normal guy might hold two socks. I also remembered ejaculating so many times in the last twenty-four hours that I was sure I had lost about six pounds. I was pretty sure the constant tightening of my stomach to push out loads had given me a nice six-pack. Before I opened my eyes I registered many things around me. First, I had a raging, Bud Stevens-induced hard on. Something that I had come to realize would be a perpetual state of being. It was going to be impossible to stay flaccid around such golden ager magnificence. Secondly, I could feel my cock and legs pressed up against a flesh covered granite wall that didn’t give at all if I pushed forward. I knew Bud’s own redwood-sized thigh was beside me. I quickly contemplated rubbing my erection against his hard-as-hell muscled skin to get off, but then I thought I should save my load for my huge gorgeous boyfriend. The third thing I noticed was that my hand rested on a steel-like hard cylinder object that was clearly as thick as a telephone pole. I used the word ‘rested’ because my hand was way too small to grip Bud’s giant engorged tool. The thing pulsed like it was being pumped with enough testosterone to fill an ocean. Lastly, there was the overwhelming orgasmic aroma of something clearly akin to what the Hulk must smell like. There were smells that could turn a guy’s stomach and then there were smells, like this one, that could cause you to leak pre-cum because they were so manly, so full of beast musk, and so fucking intoxicating that you couldn’t control your body’s reaction. I knew without even looking that my face was in the cavernous expanse of Bud’s beastlike hairy pit. Before I even raised my eyelids I let my tongue dart out and take a long slow swipe at what I new was a salt and pepper haired space the size of a hangar. “Fuuuckkkkk Yeahhhhhh,” Bud rumbled, and the word seemed to shoot through my body like a massive aircraft was landing beside me. The intensity of the wonderful he-man pungent fragrance seemed to multiply tenfold. The man radiated a bouquet of power that was instantaneously addictive and overwhelming in a good way. The cock beneath my hand bounced up, forcing my arm off of his stomach. When Bud’s rod got fully hard not even a bulldozer would be able to keep it in place. I knew soon the massive thing would be sticking straight up in the air – as sturdy as a deeply sunk girder. The big arm that was draped down my back pulled me closer to the humongous body beside me. I was suddenly sealed between two thick sheets of human granite. My face was plastered harder into his pit, my cock and legs were smashed against his mountain range of a leg, and my upper body was pushed back sharply because his thickly dense lats muscle was shoving against me even unflexed. If I had been asked, there would have been no way for me to explain how this man made me feel. Safe and secure didn’t come close. I knew Bud Stevens could give me anything I wanted. I knew he could do anything I asked. I also knew no one or nothing could get close to me unless he allowed it. I felt like I was part of him – like I was one of his huge muscles or another appendage. He clearly never wanted to be separated from me for very long. Whenever he could he had to be holding me or, at least, touching me in some way. There wasn’t a part of any night when his big arms or legs weren’t draped across me. I wasn’t a plaything or subservient in any way. We were both master and servant. He needed me to make his huge body and unimaginable strength make sense. I needed him to do amazing things that would astound me. All the other people in the world gawking and appreciating his power didn’t come close to how one compliment from me would make him feel. He had loved me way before he was huge, but becoming a superman – the kind of guy I had always fantasized about – only made him love me more. He wanted every waking moment to be about pleasing me – which, in turned, pleased him very much. I wanted every waking moment to be about me loving him. I gurgled as I licked and kissed his pit. My crotch – barely able to move in his steel-like embrace – thrust against his leg excitedly. “My big old nip put my boy out like a light last night. You got your mouth on that big thing, started sucking, and went to sleep like a baby,” Bud explained. “You slept through me arm wrestling every man in the bar two or three times – even as I held you against my body. You also missed me lifting Harry’s pick up truck with one hand with everyone in the back. Harry bounced back pretty quickly after his tsunami-sized ejaculation. I guess the guy’s even more fit than I thought. He made me bend a few parking meters in front of the bar because the guy who takes care of the meters is a friend of his and he said he’d love to see the shocked look on his face. And lastly, you missed me shoving the entire building a few feet backwards from the street because Harry said the city ordinance wouldn’t allow outdoor seating unless the thing sat further back. I got Harry to film all of it and send it to you on your phone. I didn’t want you to be disappointed about what you missed. I knew you needed your sleep. Carrying you around as I did everything was half the fun. God, I missed you, though. I watched you sleep when we got home and loved how – even out cold – your hands had to play with my biceps and chest. You also talk in your sleep. You kept saying ‘So big and strong,’ over and over.” “I did not,” I said, my voice muffled by his hairy pit. “Okay, I made that part up, but the rest is true, sweet Connor,” he said, squeezing me even harder. By this point, his cock was standing straight up like the Eiffel Tower. I reached down and grabbed what seemed like basketball-sized balls. I squeezed with all my might, knowing he’d barely feel it. He did, however, purr like a mountain lion from the caress. I was clamping down on the most sensitive part of a man’s body with all my strength and it felt like love pats to him. I wiggled my head and he sensed I wanted to speak more clearly, so he moved his arm out a little – allowing me to move my head. “Big man, you know the number one rule is no strength feats are done without me,” I said, trying to sound like I was chastising him. “You moved a building and I didn’t get to see it!” “Yeah, I do, sweet Connor, but you were in la-la land and I wanted to still show off. I can do all of those things and more just for you to make it up to you,” the big man said and I could tell he was smiling. “How ‘bout I lift a building for you? Or what if I make light poles along the street outside into animals for you? I could also do one arm curls with two Hummers to get your juices flowing.” He was certainly pleasing me with these promises, but I also knew he was getting himself closer and closer to a regular morning ejaculation as he talked about all the things he could do to show off for me. We both got off on his strength – equally. For me, it was the fact that the man was able to do anything. For him, it was how much I loved what he could do. I was now stroking his hard giant shaft as best I could with my little hand. I knew he needed to get off first thing in the morning if he was going to be able to do anything with his day. He could barely go a few hours without having to relieve himself. That’s how powerful his body had become. He clearly had so much testosterone that fifty ejaculations a day barely kept him from being horny all the time. It was a good thing he didn’t work, since he would have ended up spending more time in a bathroom stall than he would of at his desk. “Make some plaster fall,” I ordered strongly and, instantly, I felt his cock, not to mention his entire body, shoot harder from my words. It wasn’t often, but if I told him to do something . . . or if I even asked him to do something he became so turned on I was amazed he didn’t immediately bust out a big wad. Having the love of his life want something . . . order something . . . was wonderful. Pleasing me was so second nature to him – as easy as his brain sending a message to his arm to do some amazing strength feat. The humongous elder dude had to hold back always – his strength and size was just too much, but if I gave him an order he knew it usually meant he could go a little wild. His mega hand took over the pumping of his giant tool. I shook my head when I saw his finger briefly next to mine – redwoods against toothpicks. His breathing immediately got harder and every muscle in his body seemed to bulge with even more size and power. He was now in control of his rod, but he forced his stupendous body to wait for me. He would do nothing without my consent, my order, or my wish. I was his mission control and the giant rocket was led by me. “My big man pushed an entire building with just one hand,” I said to egg him on more. We both knew how my words could affect him. “He pushed the entire foundation back a few feet with just one hand. That gets me hot and bothered just thinking about it. My giant muscle gramps standing there with a truck full of grown men high above his head – held by one arm. I bet you pushed out a few reps, too, just to show off.” “Oh fuck, Connor,” he moaned, “You gotta let me shoot. You know me so well.” “Not yet, my elder muscleman,” I teased, “You need to be reprimanded for showing off without me getting to watch. You did strength feat while I snoozed sucking on your big nip.” “I’m so sorry, sweetheart. It won’t happen again. Please let me unload,” he begged. “I need to blast into the ceiling for you.” “You gotta wait, big man, until I say shoot,” I answered, trying to sound as gruff as I could. “What did those parking meters ever do to you to deserve being warped so easily? Huh, large lover? And did all those kegs deserve being flattened and wadded up so easily last night at the bar? And what about our friend Harry, rubbing his thick cock against all of your impressive hardness as he pulled himself up and down using only your non-moving biceps. That was so hot.” “Oh, Connor man, you gotta be quiet,” he whined. “Even a superman has a limit to what he can withstand. I’m going to explode whether you say I can or not.” “No you aren’t, Bud Stevens,” I replied. “We both know you can withstand anything for your little man. If I told your cock to deflate right now, I know it would. If I told you to lift a building with just that rod, you know you could easily do it. You’ll wait for me like the good muscle daddy you are.” “Oh fuck, how do you know me so well? And how can you control me so much?” Bud asked loudly. “Because we are one and the same, my big monstrous lover,” I replied, clearly loving how much strength it was taking for him not to explode. “Remember, Bud, not through the ceiling. It would be too difficult to explain the hole to the people upstairs. Just bring down some plaster.” “I can’t promise that,” he said through gritted teeth, and I was beginning to see that the only thing the super strong man couldn’t control or manhandle was his own body. “Connor, I need some release and I need it now.” “Wait, I need to go to the bathroom,” I said, teasing him mercilessly. His big arm clamped me to his side. We both knew I wasn’t moving any time soon. I might have had control over his cock, but he had control over my entire body. I looked up at his pleading face, smiling. I glanced, also, at the unsuspecting ceiling, was about to be pummeled. I then turned my attention to the rock hard giant missile poking up from his crotch. His balls had now shrunk to the size of a normal big man – that was a sure sign of how much duress he was under. I suddenly had pity on the big man and realized I wanted to see and hear the sonic boom. “Shoot,” I said, loudly. “Fuuuuuuckkkkkk!” he yelled. Knowing the man could have easily shot his wad through the six floors above us made the restrained rapid-fire of his ejaculation that much more satisfying. Cum shot up, smacked against the twelve-foot high ceiling of his place and immediately sent chunks of the plaster cascading around us. At least fourteen rounds of stone sized pellets of cum blasted the ceiling and then another seven loads went half way up before descending and splattering all over us. We were now covered in his musky man juice and pieces of the ceiling. I had a feeling I’d be scrubbing for hours to get clean. Finally his cock plopped against his hard abs, totally spent. The big man was breathless, but he still pulled me up onto his body with that one big arm around me and then latched his mouth onto mine to kiss me with enough power to make my own cock spew uncontrollably. He didn’t stop kissing until my body stopped bucking against his. We lay there, covered in spunk and plaster. I moved my hand to his veiny giant biceps and he flexed it to please me. It’s where my hand always instinctively traveled . . . or to his mammoth chest . . . or to his gigantic thighs. O hell, my hands traveled happily to any part of his huge body. “I love you, Connor,” he said, softly, letting his bushy gray mustache tickle my face. “I love you, Bud,” I replied. “You make the sun rise for me. Figuratively . . . for now.” “What can I give you today that will make you happy?” Bud asked. “You just did,” I answered and we both knew it was true. “Yes . . . I’m glad about that,” he said, “But what can I do to remind you how much I love you. Name it and it’s done.” I folded my arms across his massive chest and rested my chin on them. We smelled like a bathhouse and it was glorious. The sound of his cum carving out chunks in the ceiling still seemed to be reverberating in the room. I gazed into his eyes. I saw the kind of love that must have inspired millions of poems over the ages. I saw a mature muscle daddy that only wanted to please me. I lay on a body that was so huge and powerful it could do anything I wished. That seemed to be his sole purpose on earth. He needed me to answer him. He wanted me to give my elder Hercules some kind of labor to prove his loyalty and love. He simply knew that making me happy would fulfill him completely. I knew how to make him happy. “I’d like to go to a junkyard and watch you play, Bud Stevens,” I said and his face broke into a gorgeous smile that made me scoot up and kiss him. I finally pulled back and said something that was icing on the cake, “Watching you being able to finally let go – completely – and use all of the power within you would make me so very happy. And I’ll invite some friends.” The big man’s cock shot fully hard again. It was so powerful that it actually caused my lower body to rise slightly in the air. So many parts of what I had said pleased him. He loved the idea of going some place where he didn’t have to hold back. He had desperately wanted his ejaculation to put in holes for skylights for seven floors of apartments in our building. But, as usual, he had to tame it down and not use his full power. He couldn’t show off completely. He rarely got to show off completely, because there were things that shouldn’t be broken or people that shouldn’t be hurt. The entire night at the bar had been him showing a little power here or a little power there, but because we were in a public place he couldn’t go full on with his strength. The thought of a junkyard, where everything was fair game was almost too much for the man. I was kind of surprised we’d never gone before. Secondly, the idea of meeting some of my friends and showing off for them made the huge guy extremely excited. He hadn’t met any of my friends, yet, and this felt like a big step in our already cemented relationship. He instinctively knew he could impress anyone, but getting to show off for people that called me friend made him feel like a kid in a candy store. He would be on especially good behavior and do feats of strength that would blow their minds. Lastly, there was the ‘always important’ fact that he would be making me happy. Since it had been my idea to go, that made it even more special. Showing off for me in front of my friends would get both of us off that much more intensely. My body felt like it was levitating since his monstrous cock lifted it so easily. “What if your friends don’t like me?” Bud asked. “Why wouldn’t they like you? You can lift a fire truck!” I shot back. “But what if they think I’m too old for you?” he egged me on even more. “All those young guys in the bar last night didn’t seem to mind their cocks getting hard all because of a massive elder muscle daddy, did they?” I asked. “No, they didn’t,” he chuckled. I inched forward a little so his hard cock sprang up between my legs – resting against my ass crack and shooting up even higher than my bubble butt. I squeezed hard with my thighs and this made him moan a little. It felt like I had a fire hydrant between my legs. “I’m already thinking of a bunch of things you can do at the junkyard to make me happily ejaculate,” I said, kissing him again. “Just name it, Connor. Making you happy is my middle name,” Bud replied.
  4. londonboy

    Uncle Jed

    Uncle Jed had hugged me a little longer than I expected when he arrived at our house for the Christmas holidays. I had returned to my parents home, as well, knowing full well my mom’s bull of a brother would be sharing a room with me for the week. I hadn’t really thought about it much – that is, until the hug. He had clasped his humongous arms – looking monstrous even through the flannel shirt he had on – around my body, squeezed tightly, and lifted me slightly off the floor. At the same time he whispered, “How’s my favorite little man.” This had been an affectionate nickname he had given to me when I was a kid, but now when he said it, I got a flurry of goosebumps and tongue tied-ness that I couldn’t explain. I also didn’t know why I was so disappointed when my feet were returned to the floor. Uncle Jed lived in Los Angeles, while I was in New York. We rarely saw each other, but I’d get random messages all the time from him telling me he was in my great city, but there would be no time for him to see me – his schedule was just too jam packed. At age fifty-six, my uncle was still working as a highly contract bouncer, bodyguard, and other jobs that needed an intimidating force. This was the man that had always brought me chocolates, told me fantastical bedtime stories, and threw me around in the pool every summer – there was no way I could find him intimidating, but this particular trip brought different emotions. He confidently straddled the chair beside me when we sat down for dinner, literally giving my cousin Mark a frightening stare because he had moved in that direction, too. Jed put his hand on top of mine and said, again, how great it was to see me. I instantly noticed how his hand engulfed mine completely. You could see nothing of my small demure thing under his giant manly paw. Again, he squeezed my hand for far too long and way too hard. My face scrunched up in pain, but my crotch did a happy dance. What was wrong with me? This was my uncle – who lost his wife of twenty-two years when I had turned eighteen. I still found it odd I never met Aunt Eleanor. I found it even more odd that we were never informed about a funeral. Suddenly, a big muscled thigh pressed firmly against mine and I turned to find Uncle Jed conversing with my cousin on his other side. His leg continued to push – causing my chair and me to slide a little. Finally, the big man turned to me and smiled. He leaned in closer and said softly, “You know I’m not your real uncle, don’t you?” And just like that, he turned back to my cousin on the other side and started up a new conversation. I was so caught off guard – so confused – I woofed down my food, excused myself, and went to the bathroom for a few minutes to calm what was raging beneath my belt. Later, it was just my mom and I putting away some dishes in the dining room cabinet. I asked her about what Jed had said and she told me that it was true. Jed’s parents had both died when he was in college. My grandparents had kind of unofficially adopted him since he was an only child. When I asked her why I had never been told this important information she simply said family’s start to believe things as real the more the years piled up. I asked if there was anything else I should know about Uncle Jed and she immediately got an apologetic look on her face. “As a matter of fact there is. Now, don’t be mad, honey. Uncle Jed didn’t have a wife. That’s just something we told you kids because Jed didn’t want all of you being confused. He had a partner named Lenny – who we just kind of changed into Eleanor to make it easier for us to talk about her . . . I mean him. I know, I know – we should have told you all, but it just didn’t seem to matter. Your father and I did go to Lenny’s funeral, by the way. We never told you that. Oh the secrets family keep. It’s a shame, don’t you think?” My mom’s question was lost on me. It would be a few more weeks before I would look back at that moment and realize she was offering me a ‘get out of jail free’ card. She was hoping I’d come out with my big secret. I was still working it out for myself, so I certainly wasn’t ready for all of her progressive ‘mother of the year’ enthusiastic support. I didn’t hear her because my mind was reeling from the fact that Uncle Jed – the guy built like a bulldozer – was gay. It was almost too much for a twenty-four closeted muscle daddy loving young man to handle. I avoided the daddy ‘elephant in the room’ for the rest of the evening – throughout the singing of carols and the opening of Christmas gifts. I slid off to the two room mini apartment my parents had made above the garage – hoping to be in bed and asleep before monstrous Jed came in. I had not, however, anticipated that he would already be there – standing in the folding doorway between our rooms in only his underwear. I gasped audibly when I saw his unclothed body. Nothing could have prepared me for the magnificence that was the man. Bloated veiny clearly hard arms bulged at his side. Pecs the size of mattresses popped out in mammoth 3-D. Gloriously strong looking giant hands hung by his side – further out than regular men because of Jed’s muscled lats. His shoulders filled the doublewide doorway, so that just made me light headed and then his gorgeous beefy thighs just screamed to have my little body pinned between them. We stood there in silence for a few minutes – my heavy quick breathing the only noise in the room. It was like he was giving me time to take everything in. A year wouldn’t have been long enough for me to explore every muscle on the huge man. Finally, he broke the silence. “I was in New York last month – just for a quick overnight trip – and I saw you at Papa’s Bar. You didn’t see me. I was on my way in and I caught sight of you with some friends through the window. I figured it wouldn’t be a good place to finally come clean about so many lies your family and I had told you. I . . . also . . . um, wow this is really hard to say. I also . . . realized how much I wanted you – you’ve grown into such a handsome young man. I hadn’t even gotten a gay vibe from you – ever. I was just so excited to see you so comfortable in that bar – flirting with older men. I watched you for about an hour.” “Then you must know what I like,” I said, surprisingly with confidence that thrilled both of us. Jed walked closer to me. God, I had forgotten how much I loved big men in briefs. His tidy whitey’s looked spectacular hugging his muscled body. Massive pecs were inches from my chin. I could smell the aroma of perspiration that comes from being nervous – from being hopeful. That’s when I realized that Jed was as caught off guard by all of this as I was. It was just that his size and his obvious power helped him to hide his apprehension a lot more than I could. He reached up, cupped the back of my head, and pulled it slowly – excruciatingly slow – toward his mammoth chest. My lips were read, as was my tongue. As soon as my lips smacked up against his hard pec muscle the man exhaled deeply, letting an animalistic growl escape. I didn’t wait for any other words or sounds to give me permission to do the millions of things that were racing through my head. I simply let the muscle daddy-loving beast within me take over. I had never wanted to satisfy another human being as much as I did Jed. My mouth moved quickly to his hard nipple and when I scraped it between my teeth his back arched and the grip around my head tightened. At the same time my hand shot out to the enormous mound of muscle bulging between his shoulder and forearm. My hand met something so hard I could have easily believed it was stone. My fingers foolishly tried to grab the peak of his gun as he raised it high to flex, but my hand was just too small. The behemoth formerly known as Uncle Jed shoved his crotch against mine and even through my blue jeans I could feel his manly tool hardening with every thrust. The hand on the back of my hand made it’s way down my back, groping and caressing me hard as it traveled. When it slid behind the waistband it paused briefly, as if the big man needed to prepare for the prize it was about to behold. Jed’s cock convulsed wildly in anticipation. Finally, his veiny muscled gigantic hand clamped around my bulbous ass and the muscle daddy lost control. A jet crashing into our garage could not have made more noise than Jed’s orgasmic howl as he unleashed what had clearly been building for a long time. My own cock showed its submissiveness and immediately released a heavy stream of cum in response to dominant alpha dick pounding it as the man shot his load. Huge arms immediately tightened around me so strongly that I was worried my back would be broken. For the second time that night, Jed lifted my body off the floor and we shook simultaneously as if there were a major earthquake. It seemed like it took him hours longer to finally stop spewing. I already felt gobs of his warm sticky milk seeping through my jeans. It felt like his body had produced gallons, while mine was stupendous with a few quarts. Even when our breathing began to become normal, the big man did not release his bear hug. He continued to hold m in the air – our crotches slowly becoming stuck together and my upper body smashed against his gloriously humongous chest. This time, I broke the silence. “I think my family now knows we’ve consummated our relationship. I actually think the entire town knows.” When he chuckled at my comment my small body bounced in his grasp. His laughing echoed within his cavernous chest as if it were miles wide. He brought his lips to the top of my head and kissed me. “I could hold you forever,” he said, softly. “I don’t think there’s anything or anyone that could stop you,” I replied. This comment made his chest swell even more and his hug tightened teasingly. I was able to lift my head slightly so I could see his face. He smiled down at me and we knew there was no need for words. This was the beginning of something very important. The future was already mapped out for us. He simply confirmed that by making one comment. “I move to New York in the new year.”
  5. (Forgive me, I decided to give myself a Christmas present and continue with one of my favorite characters. Merry Christmas, everyone). “Excuse me sir,” Harry said, making us turn to him. “I’ve got some empty kegs in the back that might help you give another fun show for the fellas and me.” “Hot damn, Harry! Empty kegs sounds like a lot of fun. I’d love to crush some of those for you.” Bud said with childlike enthusiasm. “Connor, I believe we have a perfect example of a guy with a big strength fetish – don’t we, Harry?” “Yes sir,” the bartender responded. “Well I’m just the man to make those fantasies come true, Harry,” Bud said. “You already have,” Harry answered. “Did you ever dream of being super strong, Harry?” Bud asked. “All the time, sir. All the time,” Harry answered and you could tell it was the most honest answer he’d ever given. “Well, let’s make that fantasy come partially true, Harry. Where are those empty kegs?” Bud asked. “Right back here,” Harry said, pointing to a room off to the left of the bar. Bud went to the room and came back a few seconds later carrying ten drained kegs – five held by each hand. He carried them easily with fingers in the handles and set them on the bar. Of course, the group of onlookers had already gathered to see what Bud would do next. In an attempt to build the momentum of the show, Bud quickly juggled three kegs for about a minute. When he finished he took one of the kegs and turned toward the bartender. “When you do feats of strength, Harry – whether it’s squeezing a man’s hand or demolishing something, you always start out by making it seem like you won’t be able to do whatever you’re attempting,” Bud explained. “You want to surprise the object or the man you’re working with. Let the guy think he’s going to grip you harder and then slowly squeeze until his eyes pop out because he realizes you’re just starting to exert pressure, while he’s been using his full force for a while. In the same way, we’re going to let the keg think it can withstand your power – and, in turn, the intended audience is slightly disappointed. It’s not until the screeching sound of metal booms loudly that everyone figures out you’ve been leading them on. Come stand in front of me, man. We’re going to take on this keg together, so you know what it feels like to be super strong.” Harry didn’t hesitate for a second. He moved in front of the big man, snuggling between the mammoth arms. At first Harry couldn’t force himself to turn around. He stood there with his nose pointed perfectly between the huge thick bottoms of Bud’s pecs. The younger stud merely stared at the hard muscle – totally in awe. Bud finally turned him around by placing a big hand on his head and twisting. He then nestled his hard body against Harry’s back – to give the kid an extra thrill. The smaller bartender let out a gasp when he felt the elder man’s huge hard-than-concrete boner pressing against his ass and back. “Guess I should have warned you about that hard muscle down there, huh, Harry?” Bud said, laughing. “It’s as big as the rest of me. And just as strong. Now get snug up against this big man, son. We’re going to have some fun with this keg. Put your hands on top of mine, we’re going to let you be the driver of this power machine.” It took a few seconds for the bartender to regain his composure after feeling Bud’s hardened mega-shaft. Harry was beginning to realize that Bud Stevens had as many surprises as he did muscles. It was also obvious to me that the younger guy was smitten with my boyfriend – in the same way a puppy loves his owner. Harry easily gave up control of his tightly muscled body to the much larger super-gramps. I understood the way he felt and pitied him, a little, since I knew Bud was dedicated solely to me. However, I also knew the big man would make Harry’s night – not to mention Harry’s life – by pleasing him big time. As soon as the bartender rested his hands on top of Bud’s huge paws he nestled his ass even more secure against Bud’s balls and huge rod – taking advantage of the situation as much as he could. “So, little Harry,” Bud said, loving calling the muscular man ‘little.’ “You’re going to control the action. When I feel you pressing in I’ll add a little strength to the situation and you’ll get to feel what it’s like to have super strength. This keg doesn’t even begin to know the damage you’re going to inflict on it.” Harry didn’t need any other encouragement. Immediately his face twisted up from effort and he started pressing against the back of Bud’s hands, which were resting on the ends of the empty keg. Bud was able to see their reflection in the mirror above the bar. His own hands didn’t budge at all – clearly able to withstand the pressure from the bartender’s grip without any problem. “No, no, no, man – another rule for guys with super strength. We don’t scrunch our face up when we do something,” Bud explained. “We keep our face relaxed – as if to say what we’re doing doesn’t take any effort, at all. This way, we shock onlookers even more. A calm muscleman doing feats of strength without being tensed is like watching a bird effortlessly fly through the air or a cheetah running at super speeds across the grasslands. You got to make it look easy. Yes, you pause at first – to make people think you can’t do the action – but then you reveal your power with a calm body. It makes the feat you’re doing look even more impressive. So, relax your face, Harry, and let those big muscles of yours show people what you can do. Well, with a little help from this huge old man.” Harry was a quick learner. He un-tensed his body, shook out his arms a little, and then replaced his hands on Bud’s giant hands. He then smiled and began to squeeze. Bud could tell the smaller guy was applying some pressure, but it didn’t really register to his powerful hands. However, my big boyfriend knew just how to please the younger man. He began to compress his hands, too. At first, nothing happened, then there was a loud screech and the keg folded in on itself slightly. Everyone knew the thing could be compresses with a flick of the huge man’s wrists, but watching it be destroyed slowly was what everyone wanted. They also wanted to pretend it was Harry doing the crushing. “Oh yeah, big Harry, look what you did,” Bud said enthusiastically. “That poor keg had no choice but to give into your super strength. You’re going to demolish the thing like it was a paper cup. Look at your bulging arms, dude. Such power in those guns. Go ahead, crush the thing some more.” Harry smiled a little more and pressed his hands in strongly, causing his pecs to pump out even harder. There wasn’t a sign of strain on either man’s face – both enjoying the show as much as the gathered audience. Bud pushed his hands in slowly – allowing the bartender to set the pace. The keg immediately screamed from the super pressure of the older man’s strength. Everyone in the room knew that Bud was compressing the keg, but it was fun as hell to imagine that it was Harry. Harry easily suspended disbelief and accepted that he, himself, was crushing the pathetic metal object in his hands. For years the bartender had lifted kegs – both full and empty ones – dreaming of what it would be like to mangle one like it was paper, crumpling it in his hands and discarding it casually. Now, here he was squeezing the big thing in on itself and listening to the metal screech loudly as he made it succumb to his power. By this point Harry was rock hard – actually harder than he had ever been in his entire life. He stared at his reflection in the mirror behind the bar and only saw his big arms demolishing the keg. He was so turned on by his pretend strength that he was almost able to ignore the giant behind him – the enormous grampa what was actually easily performing the feat of strength. “Aw hell, Harry, listen to solid steel screaming because of your power,” Bud said to egg on the younger man. “It’s begging you to stop. It can’t believe a guy could crush it like it was nothing. Damn dude, look how it buckles to your strength. And look how huge you are getting! Squeeze it into nothing but a piece of junk, man. Make it know that you’re the boss and it’s nothing compared to those bulging arms of yours. Finish it off, Harry. Flatten then thing into the size of a pancake.” Bud’s words made the young bartender’s fantasy complete. Harry was beginning to even more feel like he was, indeed, crushing the keg. It was so empowering to be surrounded by so much muscle – there was no way to not be aware of the hardness that encompassed him and pressed from behind – and to be encouraged in the dream of destroying something powerful with your bare hands. Harry felt like a superhero. He enjoyed the idea that crushing a keg was nothing more than crumpling a tissue for him. The constant screeching of the metal as it was manipulated into a thin piece of junk was intoxicating. Harry got a small glimpse of what it was like to be Bud Stevens – to not doubt your abilities at all, to internally know you had absolutely no limits. The bartender pressed in harder, cluing the senior muscleman into his desire to go faster and compress harder. Bud obliged and the keg was quickly destroyed, turned into a smashed thin slab of metal. It looked like a heavy serving tray. A loud clanking sound came at the end – as Harry and Bud smashed the keg into something unrecognizable. “Aw, little man, you turned that big keg into a piece of paper made of metal,” Bud exclaimed proudly. “But you’re not done, Harry. Let’s crumple that thing like it was only paper. Let’s turn the thing into a wad of steel the size of a tennis ball.” Harry kept his hands pressed against Bud’s big paws as they reached around the thin sheet of metal that used to be the keg and started crushing it inward like it was a used napkin getting readied for the trashcan. Soon, the two men had the once large keg squeezed into something that looked like a metal blob – fingerprints imbedded all around it. Bud held the thing in his open palm – waiting for the younger man to take it. Harry removed his hands from the back of Bud’s and reached to grab the now terribly deformed keg in one hand – completely forgetting how heavy the thing would be. He couldn’t lift it from Bud’s palm with one hand. He had to bring his other one to the small ball of compressed metal and lift with both. The thing was still pretty warm from its structure being reformed into something unrecognizable. Harry was confounded by the fact that something so small could weigh so much. “Look at you, super strong Harry,” Bud said. “Demolishing that thing as if it was nothing for you. Big little-man crushing a giant keg into a little ball. How’s it feel to be so powerful, man?” “Fucking incredible, sir!” Harry responded. The young bartender was still not moving from his warm nestled space up against Bud’s giant body. The heat from the senior muscleman was like some kind of drug – addictive and oh-so-comforting. Harry continued to hold the warm blob in his hands and marveled at its weight even more. “Man, look how it made your biceps pop out, Harry,” Bud said, egging the smaller man on even more. “Let’s see those guns, dude. Get over to the bar and flex one of them beside Connor’s arm. Hey Connor, come compare.” Harry reluctantly tore his body away from Bud’s – but the thought of showing off his big arms was exciting – especially since they were pumped up pretty big. I also got excited about comparing my small arm to the bartender’s swole gun. Comparisons between big guys and small guys had always been a big turn on for me. Harry leaned forward, placed his elbow on the bar and flexed hard. I was impressed with how big the bulge was. The dude had some killer arms – probably about nineteen inches. I placed my little man arm beside his and flexed. I was in no way a slouch. I had a pretty good body and worked out regularly, but I wasn’t interested in being huge. I liked being with huge men. My biceps looked pathetic beside the mound of muscle that popped out beside me. My boyfriend had the biggest muscles around, but it was still nice looking at Harry’s well-formed gun. “Look how small you make my boyfriend’s arm look, Harry,” Bud said, knowing full well this kind of talk turned me on – a lot. “My boy loves it when big men compare their muscles to little guys – especially if he’s the little guy. I have no idea why he loves big muscles so much. Maybe it has something to do with his boyfriend.” “I’d say that’s right,” Harry responded. “That’s a very respectable arm, Harry,” Bud said. “What are you sporting there? Twenty inches? Twenty-one?” “Um . . . no, it’s only nineteen, sir,” Harry answered; clearly afraid he was disappointing the huge older man. “Dude, that’s fantastic,” Bud said, encouraging the smaller man. “You’ll hit twenty with no problem.” “I hope so, sir,” Harry said, flexing his gun beside my even harder – as if he thought he could will it to grow. “Ready to see some real meat, fellas?” Bud asked. “Yes sir!” Harry and I responded together, both of us keeping our arms flexed on the bar. “Harry, my man,” Bud said, “let’s show you what forty-two inch guns look like.” The bartender moaned out loud as soon as he heard the elder man say the size of his biceps. It was still hard for me to fathom their size and I was around them all the time. The minute old man Stevens flexed his arm on the bar beside ours the entire room went dead silent. We had all seen his uncovered body all night long – and I’d seen if for a lot longer – but there was just something about seeing the insanely humongous thing beside our own arms that took everyone’s breath away. The man had become a muscle monster – something that online morphers couldn’t even have imagined. His arm was super gigantic and shredded at the same time. Two incredible peaks blasted upward – way beyond comprehension – and dwarfed even Harry’s big guns in a way that made the grown man’s limb look like that of a tiny baby. Bud had been perfectly right when he said I loved big man-little man comparisons. Seeing large bulging muscles beside smaller ones made me think of power, strength, and sexy cockiness, but nothing could have prepared me for every time I saw Bud Stevens’ muscles next to some other grown man – especially a man that was considered big in all other situations. Bud’s mammoth mound of muscle ballooned out like a giant living boulder in motion. Harry’s arm screamed of gym strength, while my elder lover’s arm screamed of superhero power beyond reason – the kind of power that could literally move mountains. “Look, Harry, your arm looks like a matchbox car beside my semi-truck gun,” Bud teased. “It looks like a tiny dwarf planet up next to the sun. It looks like a teeny-weeny mouse next to an enormous elephant…” “We get the point, Bud,” I said, laughing. “Yeah, but the two of you also get off on me pointing out the obvious, too,” Bud replied, knowing full well that Harry and I were mesmerized by the unbelievable comparison shot in front of us. “Just can’t help it, dudes, I’m huge. I have to turn sideways to get in doublewide doors and duck even in archways. Somebody done morphed me something massive!” “Um . . . fellas, I gotta get off. I’m in need of some relief,” Harry said, loudly – his voice catching us off guard. “Whoa there, little man,” Bud said, after we both turned to look at the bartender. “You’re face is turning purple. You do need to blast a big one, don’t you?” “Yes sir,” Harry answered. “Got any fun ideas on how you’d like to lose your load,” Bud asked. “I’d like you to flex, sir, and then I’ll do the rest,” Harry responded quickly – making it obvious he had been thinking about this for a while. “Sure thing, little Harry,” Bud said and then he stood up and threw his arms into that now very familiar double biceps pose. The Alps weren’t nearly as majestic as Bud Stevens’ arms. The monstrous things were a shock to behold every time he flexed. It was never something I’d take for granted. I was sure of that. It was partly because the arms were so humongous that it was mind boggling, but it was also because they belonged to a man that was so nice, so confident, so mature, and so damn naturally cocky. Bud didn’t come across as arrogant – he just exuded so much sure-ness, so much power that he appeared just naturally aware that the world was his plaything. Bud didn’t want to be big to be mean – he wanted to be big to show off. His brain worked on overload to try and figure out new things to make me . . . and other guys . . . happy. I was falling madly in love with this senior muscleman and I knew he felt the same way about me. I was now confident beyond my wildest dreams merely because I had this behemoth of a senior man adoring me all the time. I knew I could ask him to do anything and he’d do it for me. I’d never take advantage of that, but I did dream about having him destroy big things or mangle them just because I asked him to. I now knew how Lois Lane felt. Harry moving up to my giant boyfriend brought me back to the present moment. When Harry, a genuinely big man, stood in front of Bud he seemed like a child. The big bartender just didn’t come close to matching the size, the thickness, the height, or the muscled massiveness of the man he faced. I could tell that Harry was astounded to be dwarfed so much by another human being. It was just something he wasn’t used to. He tried to look up into Bud’s face, but my elder lover had inhaled as he flexed his arms and his massive freight container sized chest ballooned out in a way that intimidated and thrilled at the same time. Bud decided to have some fun with that fact. “Hey, where did little Harry go? He was here just a minute ago. Was I just too much for him to handle? I thought he wanted to have some fun,” Bud said with mock surprise. He glanced at me with a quizzical face and I pointed down below his inflated blimp-sized pecs. Bud leaned forward, so his face could see over his own mammoth chest. He put on a show for the bartender – starting with a startled look. “Oh, there you are, Harry!” he said, teasingly. “I didn’t see you. Something huge was in the way. It’s a good thing I didn’t move forward and trample you. So, you had a special way you wanted to bust out a big deserving load?” Harry took a step back, so he could take in all of the hugeness in front of him. He shook his head for the hundredth time, clearly, still in disbelief of the elder behemoth he beheld. The bartender was still trying to figure out how it was possible for a senior citizen to be the size of a house, have the strength of ten superheroes put together, and love to show off as if he were an entire tent of circus performers thrilling all the children in the world. For that is what Harry felt like next to Bud Stevens – a child. It wasn’t off-putting or negative in any way. As a matter of fact it was freeing. Harry found that he could let go and be exactly who he was when he was around Bud. He didn’t need to impress . . . well, he actually couldn’t impress anyone as long as Bud Stevens was nearby. He just got to be the adoring puppy with his master and that felt so comfortable. “Just keep your arms flexed, sir, and I’ll do the rest,” the bartender said. “I can keep these stupendous guns flexed as long as you want, little man,” Bud replied. “You just go ahead and do whatever you want.” Harry needed no more encouragement than that. He bent his legs, extended his arms, and jumped. I clearly saw what he intended to do even before my giant boyfriend did. Harry let his bent fingers rest on the top of Bud’s wide-as-a-table biceps. Even Harry’s big hands weren’t able to cup the massive peaks of Bud’s arms. My own hands looked like toothpicks when pressed against Bud’s mammoth guns, but Harry’s didn’t look much bigger. After adjusting his body, so his frame was smack-dab even with Bud’s, Harry started to pull his full weight up, slowly and deliberately. The bartender was doing pull-ups on Bud’s arms, but he was also making sure his body pressed against the stone-like body of the giant as he went up and down. Harry intended to get his rocks off by thrusting his cock and his entire body up and down Bud’s bulging muscles. Bud let out a loud warrior-like yell when he realized what the little bartender intended to do. My senior muscle boyfriend also tensed his chest, abs, and thighs to give his little friend something even harder to masturbate against. I had pressed my dick against my bed so many times to get off during my lifetime, that I quickly understood having hard, warm, flesh against your cock – even when it was covered in clothing – would probably induce orgasm in just a few scrapes against all Bud’s bulges. “Five . . . six,” Bud had started counting the times Harry went up and down. “Seven, I bet you can’t make it to twenty, Harry . . . eight . . . not because you aren’t strong enough, but because I don’t think your raging hard-on can last that long. Nine. Certainly not up against all this thick hardness. Ten.” Harry’s already purple face was now even a darker color. I knew it wasn’t the strain of the pull-ups – certainly a man in Harry’s gorgeous shape – could crank out a hundred chin-ups with no problem. No, his struggle was from the knowledge that the unmoving massive structure he was exercising on was human. Well, he actually wondered if a man the size and hardness of Bud Stevens could be human. There was certainly blood pumping through the vein-covered bulges of the giant man, but Harry wondered if it were some kind of super-serum instead. Some kind of blood that had been enhanced into something immortal or god-like. Harry had no idea how close he was. It was pretty clear that if Harry could have held out for a little longer the front of his cargo shorts would have been easily worn through. Bud’s body was that hard and unforgiving. Harry’s own monster cock was equally as hard. On lift number seventeen, when Harry was at the peak of his upward motion, he let out a deep piercing pleasure scream that surely could be heard for miles around. The word gushed didn’t come close to describing the fire hydrant powered release that exploded from the rod in his shorts. Harry held his body at the peak of his lift. The force of his explosion made his lower body pummel away from Bud’s abs and then come slamming back into their ribbed hardness, which, in turn, intensified the man’s release. “Stand back, boys, he’s an untapped oil well,” Bud boomed into the room. I didn’t know it was possible for a man to go as purple as Harry went during his ejaculation. I knew his cock was going to ache for weeks to come. He was having a Bud Stevens almost-coma induced spurt and I, personally, knew how intense they could be. I swear Harry’s body grew from its orgasmic workout. I bet he added a few inches of muscle all over – that’s how powerful his explosion was. Bud reached up and grabbed the smaller man at the waist – not wanting him to fall when he finally stopped spurting. I began to worry that the bartender was going to have a heart attack right there on the spot. My big boyfriend tended to have that kind of effect on people. Finally, after what seemed like an hour or so, Harry’s body went limp and he stopped shooting. I thought he might be unconscious, but suddenly his arms dropped and his face went to Bud’s chest. The bartender’s mouth opened and nestled down on Bud’s doorknob sized nipple and he looked like a baby happy to get his bottle. Bud moved the guy to that side and held him in place with one huge arm. He then motioned to me. “Come on over here, Connor. There’s another big man nipple for you to suck on. Come join Harry for a little dessert. You both deserve it,” Bud said, making sure I was included in all the fun – he was such a thoughtful man. I took a few steps and then leapt into the air – the big man’s arm catching me as if I were nothing more than a bunch of cotton balls. I had my mouth on his sweet nip in mere seconds – sucking as if my life depended on it. My huge lover chuckled and squeezed me tightly. He knew the feeling of his huge arm surrounding me was like having a comforter, a wood burning stove, and the heat of an entire football team’s bodies surrounding me at the same time. The energy of Bud’s body, if harnessed, could have probably powered the continent for many years. I glanced over at Harry and was surprised to see his eyes were open. He was looking at me with a face so full of gratitude he didn’t need to say a word. I could tell he was saying thank you for sharing my huge boyfriend with him. He didn’t realize that there was no way I could say no to Bud Stevens – mainly because I could never satisfy him on my own completely, but also because letting the man grant wishes and live out fantasies for other little guys was what the big man had been made for. There was no way I could keep the muscled senior citizen to myself. He might be my boyfriend, but someone so magnificent, so huge, and so incredibly powerful could not be hidden or selfishly kept for myself. He was a gift to the world and he had to be shared. Besides, Bud believed himself to be the incarnation of a morphed muscled Santa Claus – here, on earth, to bring good will to all men.
  6. londonboy

    The Toy

    I loved watching his mouth open wide in shock. He couldn’t speak – hell, he probably couldn’t even think straight. He obviously wasn’t used to being manhandled so easily. I could feel his little heart beating a thousand times harder than it normally did. I didn’t need to look down; I knew his cock was rock hard. There was no way he couldn’t be turned on. I held his small body two feet off the floor. I had simply slid my hands into his pits and lifted – no knee bending, no waist bending – I merely lifted his entire body off the ground with my mouth-watering giant guns. Man, it was amazing how light some fellas could be. His weight barely registered to me. I would have guessed one fifty or one sixty – nothing higher. That was one arm curling weight for me. He also couldn’t believe a sixty-one year old man could be so big and so strong. In his mind, I was getting close to the age where I might be put out to pasture. Gazing at my body in bits and pieces he would have said the arms were of a twenty-year old. The chest, he would have guessed, belonged to some guy who was twenty-five or younger, but then the dusting of salt and pepper fur made him think differently. It’s when he looked into my face – the crow’s feet at the corner of my eyes, the slight wrinkles around my mouth, and the stunning silver blue hair that was my crowning glory – that’s when his little mind couldn’t compute the facts. It wasn’t time for me to sit in a rocker or keep a walker beside my bed – as he so quickly stereotyped older men. The kid was only twenty-one and it was his first time in the bar called ‘Silver’ – a place frequented by men similar to me. We were big older men looking for toys. And by toys, I didn’t mean dildos or slings. I meant younger little men we could play with like a kid with her or his dolls. We didn’t take men against their will; that was definitely not our style. We came to ‘Silver’ because it was like going into an electronics store on Black Friday – tons of toys came to the bar in hopes of being chosen by one of the elder giants. I came here every Saturday night. I’d down about ten beers, get a little buzzed, and then pick some saliva-dripping young thing from the crowd to take home and rock his world. I had a certain look that pleased me – the innocent little preppy kid. There was something about a trust-fund looking young man in khakis and a button-down that made me want to flex and dominate all night long. My dream toy was a rich little brat that couldn’t earn his dad’s love because he was gay and I’d come along, literally sweeping him off his feet, and take him home to offer him the kind of love he so desperately sought. Blessing some young pup with the attention and the affection he eagerly needed made me feel like some kind of muscled Robin Hood spreading joy throughout the village. The universe blessed me with the ability to pump my huge frame into something bulging and monstrous – so I kind of felt obligated to share that with others. At the same time, it got my juices boiling so hot that I felt like I could blast a boy-toy all the way to the ceiling – just from the power of my gusher. That made it a win-win situation in my opinion. The toy I presently held in the air was like a wish come true. He had on an adorable pink Polo button-down (PINK!), some butt-hugging Chino’s, and loafers with no socks. Loafers with no socks – it didn’t get any better than that! He had on a watch that cost more than a Hummer and used a money clip with his initials engraved in it. It was like the bar Gods had decided to bless me with the perfect plaything. What clinched it for me was when I asked him what he did for a living and he got confused. I finally had to ask what his job was and the heavens parted with angels singing when he told me he didn’t have to work. I asked if he had a rich daddy and he simply nodded his head. I swear – that one little nod made my cock shoot hard. I asked if his pops would have approved of him being at the ‘Silver’ and he made me ooze lots of pre when he said no. I was by far the biggest daddy at ‘Silver.’ Other men who frequented the place were muscled and large – but my bulges popped out much more than any other regular patron. It kind of made me like Zeus at Mount Olympus – all the other gods looked up to me and gave way to me when needed. This particular night I had decided to come directly from the gym. I knew my sweat-covered body – now partially dried – would give off pheromones that would permeate throughout the entire bar. I would make everyone in the place go a little stiff just by walking in. I had also learned a long time ago that my testosterone-laden aroma made smaller men actually become light headed whenever I drew near. I loved that my daddy-ness could make toys weak in the knees. When I had entered the bar this evening, I paused in the doorway just to let all the heads that turned my direction have time to soak up all the muscled goodness. I counted a total of seven gaping mouths – only those in close proximity – fellas unable to hide their lust-filled shock. Forget about gaydar – I possessed something better. I had little-preppy-man radar. I could hone in on a cream-filled, Lacoste-loving, prep-school beauty quicker than most men could blink. It was like I had a sixth sense of which man in the room would love my senior-aged giant muscled body the most and who would please my particular toy fetish completely. I didn’t even scan the room once. I immediately picked up on the pup’s Polo-cologne infused scent even though the bar was completely packed. His smallness made me growl out loud – causing a group of toys standing by to actually quiver a little in fear. I quickly glanced at his petite hands – knowing that before the night was over I would beg him to interlock fingers and without even applying any pressure I would make him squeal in delighted pain. Oh fuck, he was gorgeous. A twenty-nine inch waist, about five feet five inches tall, perfect hair that was clearly cut every week, and size seven shoes – not even large enough for my big toe. And then there was the cherry on the top – a winter tan, obviously from a rich-boy trip to somewhere exotic. To make things even sweeter – the poor little dude was clearly nervous as a rabbit that stumbles into a den of foxes. There were three elder musclemen who had cornered him against one end of the bar – each with a ravenous look in their eyes. They smelled fresh meat and were surely plying the toy with beer in hopes he would soon choose a victor. I looked down at my ‘Daddy’s Got Muscle’ skin-hugging tank top, rolled my beefy hard pecs a couple times, and then headed over to claim my prize. Moses, with his measly parting of the sea, had nothing on me. As soon as I was about ten feet from the party happening at the end of the bar, the other three men either felt my presence or were overpowered by my pheromones before I even stood among them and they quickly moved away. One of them was clearly in mid-sentence, but it didn’t matter. They all knew the alpha was drawing near. The bartender had a beer waiting for me near the small pup as soon as I arrived – he instinctively knew where I was going to park my huge frame. I swear I could feel my balls gurgling with hot cum when I stood in front of the small prepster. He was so short his lips were even with my plug-sized nips. I made sure to stand close enough so he had to lean his head way back to look up at me. As it was, he could barely see over my protruding pec shelf. I reached out beside the dude, to grab my beer, and he actually flinched in fear. Oh fuck, he was already intimidated and I hadn’t done a damn thing. I had pity on the small thing and stepped back a little – just so he didn’t get a neck cramp. I flexed my gun purposefully as I took a giant swig of my beer – the dude’s eyes widening when he noticed that half the liquid in the bottle disappeared. I quickly calculated all the things that were perfect about this youngster. Skinny as a rail – check, flat and hairless narrow chest – check, arms that looked like twigs next to mine – check, nymph-like face that clearly couldn’t grow a full beard to save his life – check, and eyes the size of dinner plates because he was so freaked out by what was standing in front of him – double check. If I hadn’t been such a strong elder muscleman I would have been spewing something fierce just from all of his tiny perfectness. I towered over the toy. He looked like a one level house next to a skyscraper. And then there was the size difference – with him looking like Bruce Banner and I easily resembled the morphed-into Hulk when he became angry. Again, I looked at his demure manicured hands – obviously, they had never seen a day of hard labor. I knew they would feel so small, weak, and fragile in my big calloused hands. That thought sent a shiver down my entire huge body. Why did tiny hands turn me on so much? And thin, weak-looking necks – they made me feel the same way. My huge paw would almost wrap completely around the bird-like stem between his head and body. My mind imagined lifting him into the air that way – a thought that, again, almost sent me over the edge. It was clear by the look on his face he was on sensory overload. I got the feeling he had never been this close to such a huge muscle daddy before. His body had never seen the inside of a gym – that was a given – but it seemed the little rich boy had also never had the opportunity to be around such bulging muscles for any other reason, as well. He was like a kid let loose in a candy shop. He didn’t know where to let his gaze stick for longer than a few seconds. It was painfully obvious that he wanted to take in all of my hugeness as quickly as possible. I looked down, again, and noticed his little hands were trembling. The beer bottle he held was shaking back and forth a little. Aw, the toy was overwhelmed by big old me. I tensed my chest – making the pecs swell so much it cut off part of his view of my face. His mouth dropped open wide and he stopped breathing. I quickly released the tense – afraid I might give him a heart attack. I reached up with one finger and pushed up on his chin – closing his mouth, which made him remember to breathe. Seeing how huge my forefinger was next to his chin thrilled me almost as much as touching his smooth soft skin. Years of lifting and reaching my sixties had made my skin hard and leather-like, something other men seemed to love, but I got more excited by soft, un-muscled skin that seemed so weak compared to mine. If I asked this little dude to flex his gun I had a feeling there wouldn’t have been even the slightest bump to his biceps. I’m sure his legs were like sticks – tiny enough to be crushed by one of my hands. I had to again pull myself back from the edge – all of these thoughts were turning me on so much I was soon going to explode. I took another swig of my beer and finished it – again, causing my audience of one little man to be stunned. Another bottle was already waiting for me on the bar and this time, the dude didn’t flinch when I reached past his head. His eyes were glued to my humongous arm as I raised it to take a drink. Again, I flexed my giant gun just to give him a thrill. He was actually in control of himself enough to take a sip of his own beer. I was instantly pleased by how his little Adam’s apple bobbed up and down when he took what I would consider a tiny drip of his beverage. I could probably finish my ten beers before he even made it through one. Holy hell, everything about this little dude thrilled me beyond words. I finally decided it was time to speak and I asked him his name. I immediately oozed more pre-cum when he said, in what almost sounded like a pre-pubescent falsetto voice, that his name was Winston. A preppy name to go with the whole ensemble – that was just too much. I had a feeling he was a third or fourth, too – or, at least, a junior. He somehow managed to get enough courage to ask me my name and I kind of leaned down and told him to call me Big Poppa. His hands immediately trembled even more and I swear I saw his crotch twitch with excitement. My little one certainly had a daddy fetish and that made my night complete. I asked him his age and that’s when he told me he was twenty-one. That’s when I decided to shock him and told him I was exactly forty years older than him. As I said before, I knew this simple information would be almost too much for him to handle. I glanced down at his crotch and was rewarded with what I knew would be his response – a small wet stain from not being able to prevent pre-cum from spurting. It seemed we both had the same problem. I asked him if he thought his Big Poppa looked sixty-one and he couldn’t even answer. He was just too flabbergasted. I told him that when I was twenty-one I had been the arm-wrestling champ of my small town. I then told him I still held the title today. This made him take an impressively long gulp of his beer – but his hands were shaking even more. When he was done, I decided to play with him some more. I asked him if he liked older men and he, again, could only nod his head in response. I smiled – something that made him moan a little. I then asked him if he liked his men strong and this time he wasn’t even able to nod his head. His eyes got wider – an answer ‘yes’ if I had ever seen one and he was forced to take another sip of his drink. I was ready to take our new friendship to a new level. And that’s when I put my drink on the counter, reached down to grab him by the pits, and easily lifted him into the air. I could feel his feet kicking back and forth. Fuck, that turned me on. Even if he had wanted to escape, there would have been nothing he could have done to get away. I held the toy in my hands – a doll for my pleasure. I, again, marveled at how light the guy was. It was as if he had never even once come close to hitting his allocated calories for the day. I was pretty sure I weighed almost thee times as much as him. I had this sudden urge to hug him – to hug him really tight. I knew it would crush something if I did, but that didn’t make the urge go away. I simply knew better and didn’t do it. My thick fingers and thumbs seemed to stretch halfway across his chest and back. My little preppy boy seemed so fragile – like thin crystal or something even more delicate. His smallness, at the same time, made me feel enormous and much more powerful than I really was. Holding my toy in my hands – for I did now view him as MY toy – made me feel invincible, like a superhero. I had such a strong desire to take care of my toy – to protect him, take care of him, and do everything for him. God, the idea of him never needing a thing again – except those things I would give him - turned me on more than I could have ever imagined. There was something special about this toy. I couldn’t quite place it, but I had a strange feeling I would stick with this particular one for a long time – maybe even forever. I was overwhelmed by my sudden protective feelings for the little guy. I took a step forward and sat him on the bar. I moved my body in between his legs, grabbed my beer, and still I gazed down into his face – even though the height of the bar made him a lot closer to my level. This time, I took a really long gulp of my beer – emptying it quickly. Another one was sitting on the bar next to my toy before I even placed the old one down. Damn, it was good to know bartenders. The toy had brought his tiny looking hand up to my right biceps and he was feeling the mound as if he were handling some precious ancient artifact. I bent my wrist and tensed the arm – just to make it swell up even harder. His hand froze with his fingers pressed against my hard giant knob of muscle and he gasped out loud. I kept my arm tensed and he slowly started groping the biceps even more – like it was some kind of life force that gave him energy. I looked at how minuscule his hand looked next to my monstrous arm. His fingers turned me on so much – just because they looked so slight and weak. How did this guy not easily get broken or damaged? It seemed like a strong wind could have blown him away. All of these thoughts, however, only made me want him more. I wanted to be the beast to his beauty. I wanted my body to offer him tons of shade when the sun was beating down hot. I wanted to intimidate anyone stupid enough to bully or mistreat my little toy. I needed to be his muscle god and I needed it more than anything in the world. That’s when I did something I had never done with one of my toys before. I leaned in and kissed the man. Kisses were only saved for special people. I pressed my mouth against his and sucked in hard – hoping to inhale some of whatever it was about him that drove me crazy. His body seemed to deflate, so I exhaled quickly. I also ran my big hands up his back and pulled his body into mine – smashing his flimsy frame against all of my hardness. I could actually feel his hard cock poking into my tight-as-hell abs. To say the kiss excited me would have been the understatement of the year. I had never known emotions like this before. This little man, my new favorite toy, was slaying the big giant without doing a damn thing but be delicate. None of this made me feel weak or frail, though. On the contrary, I continued to feel more powerful than ever. I felt my hugeness in a new way. The giant wooden bar my toy sat on seemed small and fragile. Other big men standing near me suddenly seemed like Hobbits compared to me. Even my lovely toy seemed to shrink into something I could cuddle in my hands – like a kitten. Of course, all of this was only a feeling – but it was the most alive and the most energized I had ever felt in my entire life. It took all of my strength to pull my head back and separate our lips. I wanted to stay intimately connected to the little man, but I had a strange suspicion I would have quickly orgasmed. It was uncanny to feel so weak and, yet, so powerful at the same time. I looked down into the face of my precious toy and was enormously surprised to see him smiling. It was the first time he wasn’t shaking or looking scared. This made me happy. This made me feel even more powerful than I already did. Making this beautiful man smile seemed like the only thing in the world I was destined for. I smiled back – and it was the most genuine smile I had ever offered. I smiled because I felt happier than ever – ever in my entire life, and I had had a wonderful life so far. This adorable beloved little man made me feel like the luckiest man on the planet. I was lost in the black hole of complete adoration. I was now this little toy’s devoted protector. And that pleased me very much. His smile intrigued me – so I was brave and asked him what had brought such a lovely man into the bar on that particular Saturday night. I will never forget his answer. Winston looked deep into my eyes and said, “I had heard there was a beautiful monstrous older giant here who loved small men and I decided to come in and find out if I could win his heart.”
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