magic Repost Of The Mirror-Chapter 4

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The Mirror

 

Chapter 4

 

Once I am back in my bedroom, I blush at the sight in the mirror.  A muscleboy blushing—what an intensely heart melting and erection causing sight!  My improved body is seriously hot; however, since I am not used to this sight being me, I find myself going into my usual shy shell.  I have always wanted to go up to a muscleboy, ask him to flex his muscles and allow me to feel the power surging through his vascular body, but I have never had the courage.  As I steal glances at the mirror, I start flexing my new muscles one by one.  First a little bicep curl, then a tricep extension.  

 

Soon my shyness fades away as I become more comfortable and realize that I now radiate that power and strength I have so often admired from afar.  I can’t help but break into a flexing session.  I can’t believe my new biceps.  Still wearing just a towel, I drop to the floor and crank out some pushups.  I have NEVER been able to do pushups with such ease.  After 50 reps, I look into the mirror to see my bulging biceps and triceps supporting my body and my freshly pumped chest cranking out the reps.  

 

I smile at the sight in the mirror.  I have always had a good smile, but it looks even better with this square jaw and chiseled cheeks.  As I look in the mirror, I notice my dimples are still there and etch even further into my cheeks, but my single crooked tooth (which has always made me crazy) straightens and my teeth become even whiter, creating a winning smile.

 

As I walk toward the mirror to make the latest change reality, I can’t help but notice my calves and how long and shapely they’ve become.  I touch the mirror and take a couple steps back, turn around, and begin flexing my feet up and down.  These new calves belong to an athlete—an athlete who has spent entire months of his life pounding the pavement and day after day working in a weight room carving these chiseled muscles.  

 

I pull the towel up a bit to get a good look at my hamstrings in the mirror.  I flex my thighs and cannot help but be in awe at their new shapeliness.  I reach down and start to caress my new legs.  They are so firm and taut with just the right amount of hair to make even touching myself that much more sensuous.  

 

Stroking the first thigh was such a turn-on that I could not deny the second the same treatment.  I reach around front to grab the towel.  As my right hand goes back for its caress, my left hand loses one corner of the towel in front.  The towel unravels from around my body exposing one of the most curvaceous, strong, sexy asses I have ever seen.  My right hand bypasses my alluring thigh and lands squarely on my right cheek and squeezes.  The muscle is so strong that my hand hardly makes a dent in the flesh. 

 

My senses are overloaded.  My eyes see this great asset (all possible puns intended) and my right hand is experiencing this first hand, but my brain is unable to process the incredibly sexy information coming from these seemingly impossible reports.  It is time for reinforcement—my left hand, causing me to drop the towel to the floor.  

 

After a few minutes of caressing my completely smooth and extremely sensuous ass, my brain realizes I still have not seen what is tugging so seductively on the other side of my body opposite this enticing ass.  

 

My hands freeze as if glued in place on my ass.  I look at the floor and slowly turn around.  My eyes start at the bottom frame of the mirror and being to scan upward.  They survey the strong ligaments and tendons of my feet.  They observe the length and shape of my calves.  They scrutinize my knees.  They marvel at the new mounds of strength that are my quads.

 

At this point, my hands miraculously become unglued from my ass and begin to trace the path of my eyes.  They linger over each bump of my quadriceps, over all four muscle bodies in each leg, feeling the strength and potential power within each striation.  Then my eyes and my hands behold perhaps the greatest sight of the entire adventure.

 

My body, its beauty, its musculature, it’s seeming perfection looks as if it were crafted by Michelangelo himself, a creation surpassing his David in beauty, bulk, and sensuality.  However, there was one appendage on this body that seemed to be crafted by the collective genius of all the Italian Renaissance artists—my penis.  

 

My hands cease roaming about mid-thigh.  My body pauses because I cannot take my attention away from the rigid colossus staring at me in the mirror.  After a few moments of stunned stillness, I slowly turn to my right and relax my hands to my sides.  This perfectly shaped, perfectly carved erect penis and its pendulous scrotum belong on a statue somewhere in Rome, Venice, or Milan at a secret bathhouse where gay Renaissance men came for passionate encounters, perhaps a former temple to Hercules or Achilles.  Instead, it is here in the present-day US attached to my living, feeling, breathing body—and I can hardly believe it.

 

My right hand slowly comes up to lightly stroke my newly improved phallus.  It is so rigid that it hardly moves at the touch.  I look down at the network of veins on my shaft and begin to trace them one by one.  The slightest touch of a single finger causes so much pleasure.  In fact, it’s so much pleasure that I think I had better lie down on the bed before it becomes too much to handle.

 

After propping myself up on some pillows giving myself the optimum firsthand view, I continue my exploration.  I trace the biggest vein on the top of the shaft all the way out to the crown.   Ten inches later, I graze the crown and close my eyes while stopping just for a second to savor that first contact with so many new nerve endings.  My left hand holds the shaft still while my right begins to circle the crown very slowly, enjoying each new sensation.  Reaching the sweet spot, I take time to stroke up and down.  This sensation causes my new monster to leak precum.  It continues to leak as I complete the circle around.  By the time I complete the circle, precum has completely lubricated the tip.  I attempt to circle my cock with my thumb and forefinger, but my shaft is so wide the fingers don’t meet.  Realizing that my glans is even wider only adds to my state of arousal, increasing the flow of precum.  I use my thumb and forefinger to spread it all over the tip, enjoy every pleasurable second.

 

Soon, I can’t stand to have only two fingers involved.  I need my whole fist.  In the next few minutes, I test many grips on this 11.5 inch dick and find each one brings it’s own unique pleasure.  However, the grip that has since become my trusty go to—the two fister—is the finale.  

 

I stand at the foot of my bed with my right hand at the tip and my left hand at the base.  I am amazed there is enough space to move my hands in the same direction or opposite directions, which is simply fucking awesome to say the least.  This is the maneuver that causes me to lose control.  I blast the first load from these gigantic balls out of this huge cock onto the mirror that gave them to me in the first place.  My orgasm releases floodgates.  My brain is so flooded by pleasure it shuts down and allows my senses to revel in the orgasmic bliss.  I lose my balance and am knocked backward onto the bed by the orgasmic force.  I rest peacefully and contentedly while my new body and brain recover from the tsunami.