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  • 3 weeks later...
  • 1 month later...

Sorry for such a delay in between chapters. Hope the next instalment is worth the wait. Just a reminder: Wee Jock and Sir are heading back from the gym, where they bumped in to Red, who knows Sir.

 

Chapter 6

We got back in to Sir’s car, his massive, pumped up frame filling the space even more than on the drive here. I could feel heat radiating from his left arm. Sir pulled out the carpark and started driving back in to town.

“Well that was a good warm up, Wee Jock. Tell me, how long has it been since you’ve been on a gym floor.”

“A couple of years. I was a member at uni, but I didn’t go often except to swim.”

“You did well. You continue to impress me. I hope you didn’t mind when Red joined us at the end.”

“… actually… that was fucking hot.” Sir turned his head briefly and cocked an eyebrow at me before returning his gaze to the road.

“Being flanked by two giant muscle men showing off for each other? And then the pair of you looking at my tiny wee pumped up arms? You’re damn right that was fucking hot!”

“Your arms aren’t as wee as you think. And those were some nice veins when you got your pump going!” I had to shift myself in the seat to adjust my growing cock. Hearing Sir’s praise was such a turn on.

“I can’t compete with the two of you! Look at you. You’ve got veins all the time!” Sir extended his left arm across me, in front of my face, then flexed it. The bulging muscle only about a centimetre in front of my nose.

“You mean these veins?” I reached up and ran my finger tips along the veins on his biceps. The vascular structure providing the only leniency on offer on the granite limb. I barely had a few moments before Sir moved his arm to the gear stick. The bunching of his muscles as he shifted gear was mesmerising. I reached out to feel his left thigh when my lustful thoughts were interrupted. “Not whilst I’m driving, Wee Jock.”

It was only another few minutes before we pulled up in front of his house. These houses were old, built decades before people owned cars. So on street parking was a premium. I assumed there must be some strict permit system in place. The driver door thumped closed. What was I doing thinking about parking spaces? I was getting nervous again. I fumbled with my seat belt so I could catch up with him. I was so busy with the mechanism I didn’t realise the passenger door had opened until I felt his arm reach over me to unfasten me. Sir then reached his right arm around my back, hooking under my armpit, and with the left arm grabbed my backpack and my legs, and lifted me out the car. I may be wrong, but I’m fairly sure I felt his back bump against the roof of the car when he lifted me up. I clung on to his shoulders as he stood up straight, kicked the car door shut, and started walking up the couple of steps to his door.

As we reached his front door he used his left hand to unlock it, and remotely locked his car which beeped at us approvingly. He dropped my backpack and pushed the door shut behind us, and walked through to the bedroom without bothering to turn on the hall lights.

In his bedroom, he placed me on the bed, as he turned on the various lamps around the room. He then stood in front of me. I was now lying on my back, propped up on my elbows, eager to see what was going to happen. The giant stood before me, looking directly in to my eyes as he started rolling his shoulders forwards. I couldn’t hold his gaze long as I was too distracted by watching the various heads of his deltoids writhe under his skin. He brought up his right arm and flexed his bicep, and with his left he ran his left index finger slowly down from his wrist, to his elbow, and then along the ridge of the cannonball, tracing the cephalic vein back up to his shoulder.

“I guess you’re right, my veins do stand out.”

“Yes, Sir, they do.”

“Do you like that?”

“Oh yes. You’re arms are amazing, and the veins just emphasis how powerful they are.”

“What about my chest?” Sir motioned his hands towards himself.

“I may have forgotten how impressive your bare chest is…” I said with a smirk.

“Let me remind you. And then you can tell me what you think.” Sir reached for the bottom hem of his vest and with one movement pulled it up and over his head, tossing it to the foot of the bed. Then, with a slight turn, he dropped forwards on to his hands and started pushing out press ups. After a few minutes he leapt up, his chest flushed and pumped, before hitting several variants of most muscular pose.

“You’re chest is huge. I can’t believe the definition. I could fit my forearm in the gap between them, and you’d still be able to crush it. I love seeing the mass of muscle clinging to your chest jump to solid attention at your command.” I was enjoying being a bit more verbal with Sir, and he was clearly enjoying it too. His pecs weren’t the only thing jumping to attention as I praised him.

Sir grinned as he brought his hands up behind his head and crunched his abs. I took the invitation to start discussing them. “Your whole torso looks like it’s been sculpted from my wet dreams. Your abs remind me of the climbing wall, I bet I could hang from them. And your obliques, well they are like a runway guiding me down to the monster in your pants.” And boy was that monster awake and hungry! The bulge in his shorts was ridiculous. And his wasn’t the only painfully hard erection in the room.

With a bit of a grunt Sir stood straight again. He was panting heavily, like a bull about to charge. I could see in his eyes he was fighting control. He took the two steps over the the bed and picked me up by the tshirt, both fists clenching the neck. “Time to undress.” He said, and pulled his hands apart. The collar of my t-shirt gave way and my t-shirt tore right down the middle. Sir gave a last last tug at the bottom hem. He turned me around and ferociously pulled the destroyed shirt off my back whilst pushing me face first in to the bed. His hands were immediately on the waistband of my shorts as he started pulling them off me, almost taking me off the bed at the same time. In a few seconds my socks and shoes were thrown over Sir’s shoulders, along with my shorts. I was now wearing nothing but the white jock strap, half hanging off his bed, arse on full display.

Almost as soon as my feet hit the floor, I felt Sir lunge in to me, his hands grasping on to my thighs, his face pressing up against my crack with such force that my own face was pressed in to the mattress. He started kissing and licking all around my hole, his teeth grazing along my cheeks. I was rock hard, leaking precum again, as I spread my legs, allowing for better access.

Sir gave a playful bite on the inside of my right cheek before abruptly stopping and standing back. “Stand up” he commanded. It took me a second to catch my breath, and convince my legs to bear my weight again. When I stood and turned around, Sir was standing in a double biceps pose, legs open and slightly bent. At some point he had removed his shorts and was also naked apart from a neon green designer jock. This guy clearly had a fetish for them, and I wondered how many I’d get to see on his statuesque frame. His hole body was flexed. Each head of his quads clearly defined from the next. His biceps showing short valley between the two muscles before one overlapped the other. His pecs overhanging the deep grooves of his abdominals.

“You said you could climb me… go for it.” Sir smirked and winked at me. My eyes widened as I took it all in - this sexual climbing frame. I started in front of him on my knees, reached up and tucked my fingers between his first and second row of abs. Sir relaxed a little and once my fingers were in place he tensed again. Although it wasn’t a deep hand hold for climbing purposes, I knew my fingers weren’t coming out until he relaxed again. I pulled myself up, my feet tucked behind me, and I was amazed I could hang off him like this. I let my chest slide up over his engorged package, and I could feel dampness of his precum as well. Sir moaned as I rubbed my body along his confined erection, he was clearly enjoying this as much as I was. Now with my two arms flexed, I rested some weight on my left elbow digging it in to his obliques. I would have found this uncomfortable, but Sir   coped with it easily with his superior size and strength, I would have to jump on his tensed stomach before it bothered him. I started trying to ease the fingers of my right hand out from between his abs. As I thought, they were in there pretty tight. Sir shifted slightly, leaning himself to his right, and loosening his grip on my hand, without relaxing his whole stomach. I freed my hand, shook my fingers out a bit and reach a little higher to the mighty overhang of his pecs.

I placed my finger tips above his nipples, my knuckles folded over them to get the best grip, and pulled myself up. As I ascended his body, Sir relaxed his abs enough for me to move my left hand up to his traps. I scaled this mountain of a man, pulling myself up to be face to face with him.

“Wow,” Sir said cooly. “I thought you’d have stood on my thighs. You do continue to impress me, Wee Jock.”

I grinned “I’m not done yet.” I pulled myself up over is left shoulder and then down his back. I gripped his thighs as I brought my legs around over the side of his neck, before tucking them under his arms. I tried to grip him with my thighs, but he was just too broad, and I couldn’t get purchase.

Sir chuckled “Am I too big for you?” He lowered his arms and flexed his lats, trapping my lower legs, holding them firm.

“Too big to conquer, but nothing’s too big to try.” I replied. With that I lowered myself down and pushed my hands between his thighs. Sir, yet again, obliged and shifted his stance, opening his legs wide enough for me to pass through. As I lowered myself under him, I could feel Sir begin to lessen his grip on my calves, allowing me to tug them free. But at that point I was face to face with his perfect, muscular arse, exposed by his neon green jock strap. I gently bit his right cheek. Sir gave a gasp, and immediately tightened his grip on my lower legs. I continued my traverse around his body, reaching my hands under and around his thighs. I kept kissing and nibbling his perfectly formed gluteals. As I reached my arms through his legs, hooking on to his thighs, Sir squatted slightly in order to open his legs up for my passage. I started moving myself between his legs, like ships passing under the great Colossus of Rhodes, but as I passed, my face came across his hole. I couldn’t help myself. I ran my tongue along the sensitive tissue adjacent to it. Sir gave a sharp intake of breath and he jolted upright, inadvertently trapping my head between his thighs; his grip on my ankles simultaneously tightened.

“Woah!” Sir exclaimed. I couldn’t help myself, I darted my tongue out again, running it three hundred and sixty degrees around his tight hole. “Nnnng… that’s not something I…” my tongue ran directly over his hole, tasting the sweat from the work out. Sir’s grip on my skull tightened slightly; I started massaging his right thigh with my left hand whilst I kept my tongue working on his hole. I squirmed my right arm through a bit more so that I could reach up and start massaging his turgid cock. I could feel a damp patch of precum seeping up at the head of his shaft. Sir’s breathing got heavier. After a few deep breaths, I could feel Sir grabbing hold of my left ankle. With a swift shift of weight, he was holding my ankles in his armpit and hand, and his right arm was now reaching between his legs, and grabbing my right upper arm. He then released my ankles and pulled me up by my right arm, pulling me between his legs, stabilising me with his now free left hand. It was all very quick, causing a head rush. One second I was upside down, hanging on to Sir’s amazing body, rimming his arsehole; and the next I was being held like a doll in front of Sir’s face, dizzy and disorientated.

“I don’t remember instructing you to do that.” Sir said with stern expression.

“I couldn’t help myself…”

“That’s not something I allow.”

“You didn’t seem to find it to objectionable?”

Sir grinned, tumbled me upside down and brought my knees over the back of his head, my own exposed hole close to his mouth he said in his low, deep voice: “I am in control. Your hole is mine. And you will suck what I tell you to suck.” Sir crunched his abs, bringing my head down on his over packed crotch, the neon green fabric damp and stretched. “Now suck it!” Sir shouted before driving his mouth in to my arse, my erect cock, trapped within the white jock pouch, rubbing in the grooves between his pecs.

I obeyed Sir’s command, opening my mouth and started to mouth and kiss the engorged cock within the jock. I added my saliva to the precum soaking in to the fabric around his mushroom head and worked down his shaft to his large balls. All the while Sir’s tongue was lapping at my hole.

“I said suck it! Not kiss it!”

Rather than pulling the jock down, I pulled the fabric aside, exposing only his head. I licked at his frenulum and around the corona, spreading his juices, before pushing my puckered lips against his tip. I applied pressure and Sir flexed harder, slowly thrusting his hips forwards and up, pushing his cock against my mouth. As the pressure increased, my lips parted and slowly he entered my mouth, his flared head popping over my tight lips. I pulled the jock further to the side and started bobbing my head back and forth along his shaft, getting about half way along with each descent.

Sir held me right up to his mouth, slurping at my hole as if it were an ice cream on a hot day. His tongue running around, and across my now eager hole. His throbbing member filled my mouth, as I grabbed hold of the shaft, desperately trying to fit more and more in to my throat. But due to our height difference, I couldn’t get any more in whilst my hole was against his lips. My own cock forced between his pecs, leaving my sticky juices against his sternum.

When I reached down and gave Sir’s balls a tug, he came up for air and growled. He allowed my body to drop on to his shaft, my nose touching the sift skin of his ballsack, and he stood up straight.

“Suck.” He commanded. I was enjoying the more verbally domineering side of him.

“Yes, Sir!” I shouted as I caught a breath before diving back on to his rigid cock. Sir raised and lowered my body, once again using me as if I were an animate sex toy. I could feel my throat descend on to his head over and over again, causing me to produce copious amounts of saliva. His own fluids mixed with mine, as they coated his shaft, and dripped down his balls.

I could feel the blood pulling in my head, and the pressure building the longer I was being pumped upside down. After a few minutes I made a very loud gasp as I disengaged from his cock. Sir kept up the rhythm for two more pumps, his rock hard, slippery dick poking me in the face, until he seemed to come out of his trance.

Sir turned and threw me down on to the bed, arse over tit. It was forceful, but controlled. I was lying on my back, head towards him, overhanging to bed. Sir stepped back for a second, took off his now soaking neon jock and stood up, stroking his huge erection as he took a few swagger steps towards me. He stood over me, both hands stroking his cock at once, flexing his pecs. He had to lean over so that I could see his face.

“Open your mouth and stick out your tongue.”

I obeyed. Sir took one more step forwards and lay his large, lime sized balls on my tongue. He didn’t have to ask, I started lapping at them, whilst he stroked himself. Sir started moaning and giving me encouragement. “Oh yeah. Lick them. Suck on my balls.” I opened and and took one of them in to my mouth, giving a gentle suck as he pulled away. “Uh!” He grunted encouragingly as it popped out my mouth.

Sir grabbed his stiff cock again, tapping the side of my face with it. “Open wide.” I obeyed. Sir’s large, wet head touched my lips briefly before withdrawing again, leaving a trailing strand of precum between my mouth and his tip. He broke the strand with his right index finger and then placed that finger on my tongue. I started sucking on his finger.

“I said open wide.” I could barely open my mouth before Sir thrust his cock deep in to my throat. He placed a hand on either side of my head and pulled me back slightly so that my head was hanging off the bed a little more. My throat and mouth now formed a straight line and whilst holding my head, Sir thrust harder and harder in to my throat, without withdrawing enough for me to breathe. He was grunting so hard I didn’t think he’d notice that I was struggling to catch my breath. I started gagging, I started grabbing at Sir’s wrists whilst trying to shake my head out of his grasp.

It felt like minutes, but I know it was only took a few seconds for Sir to let go of my head, grab my wrists, and withdraw his long shaft from my mouth. I gasped for a few deep breathes. Whilst I was recovering, Sir pulled me off the bed, flipped me over and threw me back on the bed, chest down. I felt his broad, hard, body press against my back. Sir leant in and whispered in my ear. “I am in complete control. I know just how far to push you, Wee Jock. And judging by how hard you’re straining that jock, I know you’re enjoying it. Aren’t you, Wee Jock?” I nodded my head. “Answer me!” Sir commanded before grasping my left earlobe in his teeth and tugging so that my head twisted.

“Yes, Sir!” I exclaimed in between pants. “I’m yours to use.” Sir let go of my ear. “Please, use me.”

“Oh, I’m going to use you alright.” Suddenly I was being pulled back to the edge of the bed, my painfully hard dick dragging underneath me. Sir gripped me by the upper thighs, pulling me to the edge, and lifting my arse up at the same time.

“On your knees. No, chest on the bed.” He pushed my back down, putting some of his weight in to. I pushed my arse up, presenting myself to him. “Spread your legs, show me that hole. Yeah, that’s it. That hole is mine.”

“It’s yours Sir,” my voice slightly muffled by the mouth full of sheets. “Take it.”

Sir let go of my back, I could feel him rubbing his cock against my cheeks. He must have been dripping with pre, as the next thing I felt was one wet finger circling my hole. An involuntary moan escaped my lips as I arched my back more, presenting my eager hole to my commander. I could hear rustling behind me whilst Sir started probing me with one finger.  After around a minute Sir withdrew his finger and I felt a dollop of cold lube being dropped down my crack. I could feel his head running up and down my cleft before being pushed against my hole. Sir started applying pressure. When about half of his head was in, he grabbed the waistband of my jock with both hands, pulling it tight.

“You better hold on.” I didn’t have to see his face to know that he would have a cocky grin on his face. With one steady movement, Sir sank his monster cock in side me until I could feel his thighs against mine. After a brief pause, as if to emphasis the fact that he was balls deep in me, he then started pulling back and thrusting back in to me.

He wasn’t kidding when he told me to hold on. I had to brace my arms against the bed, and Sir was using my waist band to pull me back almost as much as he was thrusting in. The sound of our flesh slapping against each other was punctured by Sir’s grunts and my panting. Each trust was filling me, almost forcing the wind out my lungs, causing my to struggle with my breath almost as much as when he had been skull fucking me.

I kept sliding up the bed with the power of Sir’s thrusts. And Sir kept having top pull me back on to his cock. A few minutes in, he let go of my waist band, hooked his hands under my armpits and with his enormous erection still inside me, picked me up. He walked me across the room and almost threw me against the wall. My face and chest were pressed hard against the wall and I braced my arms against it. Sir started thrusting in to me again, and as I pushed my arms back to get a bit of room, he grabbed my left arm, brought it round my back and held it there, putting his weight in to me, so that once again I was caught between the solid wall and the pounding of his body. He held my forearm just below the point of pain, but he still had complete control. His right hand gathered up the waist band of my jock again, using it to control my hips like the reigns of a horse.

Sir’s rhythm got faster and harder. I could feel the pressure in my prostate building, the precum now dripping down my confined shaft and balls. I knew it wouldn’t be long until I came. I kept trying to vocalise it, but I was panting so hard I couldn’t form the words. I made ungodly noise between a moan, a grunt and a yelp as I shot load after load in to my now stretched out jock. After about the fifth spasm of climax, Sir pulled out and almost dropped me to the floor. I don’t know if it was intentional, but my legs couldn’t bear my weight. Once I was on my knees, he spun me round with one hand, the other I saw quickly pulling off the condom and throwing it to the other side of the room. His fists became a blur as he furiously wanked himself off. During those few short seconds I could see his pecs and abs clenching as he pumped his mighty shaft. Sir started making gasping noises himself, his abdominals seemed to spasm of their own accord twice before the hot white liquid started spurting out of his flared head. Although I was a few feet away from him by this point, it still landed on my upturned face. I instinctively opened my mouth and extended my tongue. Ropes of cum were now landing on my face and body.

After Sir’s ecstasy had subsided he seemed to regain control of his body again and smiled as he looked at me: on my knees, still with my mouth open and tongue out. I must have been covered in his jizz. He extended a hand towards my face and rubbed thumb over my cheek, gathering up a huge dollop of cum. He then placed his thumb in my mouth and on to my tongue. Remembering my instructions from earlier, I fought the urge to suck his thumb clean.

“Good lad, you take direction well.” He wiped his thumb on my tongue, and withdrew his hand. “Now hit the shower.” Sir waved in the direction of the en suite before walking to the bed and slumping down on it softening erection slapping against his abdomen, still extending past his belly button.

I stumbled in to the bathroom. I braced myself on the sink and took a few deep breathes to gather myself before standing up straight and looking at myself in the mirror. I was covered in cum. I grinned at myself, before peeling off the stretched white jock strap.
I showered off, half expecting Sir to join me, but he didn’t. I grabbed one of the enormous white towels to dry myself off and wrap around my waist before going back in to the bedroom. Sir was still lying on the bed, looking half asleep as I went to collect my backpack from the hall.

“Where do you think you’re going?” Sir asked.

“I was going to get my bag. I’ve got a change of clothes in it.” Wait, were we about to do round two? Was I going to be allowed to sleep over and we could go at it again in the morning?

“I don’t think so.” Sir started to stand up. He picked up the neon green jock he had been wearing, his vest and shorts. “You think I don’t know you took my underwear?” I felt the blood drain from my face. I opened my mouth to try to speak, but couldn’t think what to say to make it sound any better. “Since you like wearing you like wearing my clothes so much, you should wear these home.” Sir handed me the clothes he had been wearing.

“Um… ok. I’m sorry?” I took the bundle and pulled out the green jock. I wriggled it on under the towel before letting the towel drop. It fit pretty well - Sir may be massive, but his waist was small and trim. Next I put on his shorts and vest. They were a different story. I turned and looked at myself in the full length mirror. I looked like a child wearing hand me down clothes. The shorts hung to my knees. Sir’s thighs had stretched them tight, I could have had three or four of my legs in there and still had room. The vest hung from me, the neckline dropping past my chest, exposing my nipples. The sides that had gripped sirs lats swung like wing flaps on me. My reflection was both ridiculous and somehow arousing. It once again emphasised the difference between us. Sir came to stand behind me and placed his hands on my shoulders.

“You can lick out my arse when you can fill those clothes. Until then I hope you settle for being the best fuck in Glasgow.” Sir said as he patted me on the shoulder and gestured towards the door. I was getting hard again. That was mighty praise indeed. I fumbled for my socks and shoes before heading out the house.

“So will you text me again?” I dared ask before I left.

“There’s not many out there that can take me, let alone let me pound them the way you do. That hole is mine. You’ll be hearing from me.” And with that he closed the door on me. But I still walked home with a spring in me step - after all I was the best fuck in Glasgow!

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Whata freat update tho iw as expecting moe of Rick i guess nxt time we will see.

So Sir would let Wee Jock fuck him if he fills teh clother. Welp the litle guy will have  a good run trying,

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  • 4 months later...

Apologies for such a long delay in writing. I'm undertaking a masters and trying to train for a bodybuilding competition, so I"m afraid writing has had to take a back seat. I've still been doing it a little at a time, and this is the next instalment. As always, all feedback is welcome. I've got a clear idea of a story arc, but I'm willing to adapt or add in things if anyone has any particular suggestions. I hope you enjoy where this is going.

 

G

 

Chapter 7

 

I spent the weekend riding the high from Sir’s comment: “best fuck in Glasgow.” I couldn’t wipe the smile from my face. Even people at work noticed.

“What’s the matter with you? Can’t have won the lotto or you wouldn’t still be working in this shit heap.” I of course couldn’t tell them. I doubt that they even wanted to know why I was happy, just that they were annoyed I was happier than they were. It was rare for me to get any conversation out of them, and the vast majority of the time I was thankful of that. I didn’t want them to know about my private life, and from what I overheard about theirs, I wish I knew less about them!

I joined a Park Run on the Sunday. I was one of the youngest ones there. Most people my age were still hungover from the night before at this time in the morning. But there was a cute guy in his late twenties, wearing a red vest, showing off his nice arms. He nodded at me at the start. I blushed, my micro boost in confidence vanishing when it came to actually having an interaction with another person. What would I say to him if we talked anyway? “Hi, they call me Wee Jock, and I’m the best fuck in Glasgow” … somehow I don’t think it would have gone down well. When we started I shot off. Mr Red-Vest didn’t cross the finish line until after I had finished stretching off. He clocked this and the expression on his face showed that he wasn’t pleased that someone so much smaller than him had beaten him by such a margin. I guess not all big guys are confident in their status. I bet Sir would have been fine with me winning a race. I bet he’d grab me and hold me up like a champion, but then not put me down and start licking my… shit, I’ve got a stauner in the park! I quickly bent down to retie my shoe, desperately thinking of unsexy things until it subsided. These shorts didn’t do much to hide my erection.

Once I had control I decided to get home as quickly as I could to give myself the privacy I needed to think about Sir.

—————

It was Monday evening that I got a text from Sir again: “Closing a deal tomorrow. Drinks with work to celebrate publicly. Playing with you to celebrate privately. 8pm at the flat. Key and instructions in the usual spot.”

There was an instant tent in my trousers.

—————

I could barely keep my head straight at work. I kept thinking about what would happen with Sir that evening. I arrived at his flat a few minutes early, nervous and excited as usual. The lights were off, so I assumed he was still out with his work colleagues. I let myself in through the unlocked storm door and opened the little side cupboard to find the familiar box. This time it held a bright blue, Andrew Christian jock. Well, I suppose it was a jock - it was more like a brief, but the back was cut away, exposing my arse, like a jock. The straps instead of being elastic were fabric. It cupped everything nicely. I had changed and was admiring myself before I noticed the note.

“Evening Wee Jock,

“By now I should have closed a major deal and to celebrate I wanted to treat you to a designer pair of underwear. Let yourself in and wait for me in the hall

“Sir.”

I grabbed the key and let myself in, turning on the lights. I had only just shut the front door when I heard a car door close in the street outside. A minute or so later and the key was turning in the lock.

Sir opened the door, dressed in a royal blue, single breasted, three pieced suit. He wore a crisp white shirt, a bright red tie, and a white and red pocket square. The suit fit perfectly: no straining at the button, no puckering at the lapel. Again, it was obvious that this was tailored to his sculptured body… I wonder what his tailor thought of him. Imagine being paid to have this adonis standing in his underwear in front of you, and it was your job to wrap your measuring tape around him, draping him in fabrics, nipping and tucking the cloth to get the best lines. Sir shifted to straighten his already perfectly straight tie, but the motion emphasised how his arms budged in their sleeves, the perfect balance between enhancing his shape, without being too tight.

“I take it by the gawking expression on your face and the bulge in your jock that you like my new suit?” Sir’s deep, smooth voice pulled me out of my stupor.

I shut my gaping mouth, licked my lips, and replied “yes, Sir. I didn’t think you could look as sexy dressed as you do naked. I was wrong.” Sir seemed to blush a little, but he covered it with a cocky smirk.

“Talking about people looking good: That looks great on you, Wee Jock.” He said, pointing to my new underwear. “Turn around and let me see.” It was my turn to blush. I held my arms out, and slowly turned around. Sir grunted “Wow, that’s a mighty fine arse you’ve got there. And those pants frame it perfectly.” He took a few steps forward putting his left hand on my left shoulder, and grabbing a handful of my right cheek with with his other hand. I could smell his aftershave. “Bend over for me.” I did as instructed, arching my back, pushing my arse out as far as I could. Sir spread my cheeks a little before giving me a playful slap on the rump. “Yeah, they are a perfect compliment to your assets.” He declared as he stood. I could hear the grin in his voice.

“You’ve got good taste.” I said as I stood and turned to face him again.

“Thank you, I thought you’d like them.” He leaned forward and begun to whisper in my ear, “I’ve been imagining fucking you in those pants for the last two days.” I was instantly erect. It may have been a mistake to point my cock downwards, as it was now straining ridiculously against the fabric pouch. Fortunately, we were so close to each other that I don’t think Sir could see my bulge. At least the blood rushing to my penis was preventing my face turning beat red.

“You - you think about fucking me?” I stammered. Sir cocked his head slightly to one side and raised an eyebrow.

“Are you trying to imply that you don’t think about me?” As he finished his question he raised his left arm and flexed. The sleeve of his suit solidified. The fabric domed over the mound of his bicep. My eyes widened trying to take it all in. I wasn’t aware of my right hand reaching up until it was on it, gripping and groping, feeling the solid structure beneath. I let out some unrecognisable syllables.

“What’s that? You don’t think about this?” He brought his right arm down and flexed his chest, his left hand taking mine and rubbing my hand across his protruding chest, right in front of my face. Once I had started working my hands in to his shirt, he started producing a proper most-muscular pose. I was busy trying to grab and feel as much of him as possible. I ran my hands over this granite chest, digging my finger tips in to the unyielding muscle under his cotton shirt. My hands roamed over his shoulders and arms, feeling the material of the suit create a soft covering to the solid mass underneath. I dug beneath his red silk tie to feel the valley between his chest mountains and I gasped as he started pulsing his pecs - the flesh transforming from malleable meat, to solid stone.

“I don’t want to tell you how often I think about all this.” I finally managed. Sir grinned and straightened his tie once more, tucking it in to the vest. He unbuttoned his jacket, and grabbed the lapels and dipped one shoulder and then the other, like a fighter escaping a clinch, he removed his jacket and tossed it to land on a chair by the wall.

Where the suit jacket framed him, encasing his body without cramping it, his shirt clung to every protrusion and cut of his muscled shoulders and arms. As he moved, the fabric stretched and moved with him, like a superhero’s outfit. It was once more evident that this was a bespoke item of clothing - no shop would hold items with these dimensions. The enormity of his shoulders was exaggerated by the tightness of the vest, hugging his compact midriff.

“And what about all this?” Sir put his right hand behind his head and struck an abs and thighs pose. His suit trousers seemed to balloon out as he tensed his quads. I dropped to my knees and started running my hands in to the separations of his quadriceps muscles. Sir quickly turned around and I could see how his calves pressed agains the trouser legs without him having the tense. My gaze traveled up his legs and was rewarded with the most perfectly sculpted arse I have ever seen. It’s great mass projected out towards me as two meaty orbs.

“Oh yes, I’ve been thinking about that arse a lot.” Before I could reach up to grab it myself, Sir’s own hand came round and grabbed a hold of one cheek and gave it a rough squeeze.

“What this arse?” He said before slapping it and flexing. The round, globes of flesh tensed in to squares of hard muscle. I reached forward and grabbed them with both hands, rejoicing in the feel as he slowly released and re-tensed his perfect assets.

“Yes, that perfect arse. I think about it almost as much as I think about it’s counterweight.”

“It’s counterweight? Oh… you mean… this?” Sir turned round once more, running his left hand down the length of his turgid cock; which was currently extending down his left trouser leg. I buried my face in it, feeling its firmness and heat against me cheek. I rubbed my face against his hard cock, opening my mouth around the head, breathing through the material of the suit. Sir moaned and started running his fingers through my hair whilst my breath warmed him. I brought my hands around to grope his arse whilst I continued rubbing my face against his groin. My own cock fighting against the restraints of my bright blue designer jock. Sir brought his hands around my head, holding my skull in place and started rubbing his encased length against my mouth, his trousers now slightly damp, a mix of my saliva and his precum.

He let go of my head, bringing the fingers of his right hand towards his fly. As I moved backwards, I wondered how he was going to be able to manoeuvre such a large, solid rod out of the confines of his trousers without undoing his belt and buttons. Just as he started to pull his zip down a ringing noise started off to my right. It was his phone. The noise instantly broke through the sexual anticipation trance of both of us. Sir’s head turned to look at his jacket on the chair, and rezipped the centimeter of fly he had undone. He looked back at me, ran his hand down my cheek, cupped my chin, then gave my cheek a gentle pat. “Wait there.”

“Yes, Sir.” He could instruct me to do anything he liked. I’ve always considered myself a versatile top, but the height, power and attitude of this man made me completely submissive to him. I would stay on my knees until he instructed otherwise.

Sir took the three steps towards the chair, retrieved his jacket and oddly, put it on, checked his reflection in the mirror above the sideboard, and straightened his tie, before collecting his phone out of his jacket. I wondered if he was getting himself back in to business mode before answering his phone. Sir looked at his phone and grinned. This was obviously someone he enjoyed dealing with.

“Hello stranger, I was expecting to see you after work.”

A brief pause. “Well I stayed for a round of champagne, but I have other plans tonight.” Sir looked at me and winked. He walked over to me, squaring his crotch up against my face once more. I looked up to his face, but he was gazing straight ahead whilst listening to his colleague, or possibly friend? Which was it? I wasn’t sure if he was wanting me to continue where we left off, or if he was just teasing me. But I knew what I wanted to do, so I gently rubbed his cock head on his left thigh, with one hand; with the other I reached for his fly.

“I was hoping to catch up with you, I had a bit of a proposition for you.” I lowered the zipper and reached inside. No underwear. Again I wondered if he had been doing this all day? He had mentioned a big deal, there was obviously some important meetings today. The new suit wouldn’t have been for my benefit (although it pleased me that he might have thought about how turned on it would make me, when he was getting fitted for it). Was he free-balling all day? That would have been quite a distraction to himself and anyone he met. There was no way he could hide that beast snaking down his trouser leg. Or has he removed his underwear somewhere today? Are they in one of his pockets? Has he left them in a desk drawer? Has he left them in a toilet cubical at the pub, for the next patron to find? These thoughts flashed through my mind in an instant as I was gripping on to his thick shaft. I knew it couldn’t possibly be as thick as a beer bottle, but it felt like it.

“Ng-.” He gave a sharp gasp as my fingers gripped him. The murmur I could here from his phone stopped. He looked down at me and grinned. The voice restarted again, the tone had obviously changed. It seemed to be asking a question.

“Yes, my evening plans are underway.” Sir swapped his phone to the other hand and ear, lowering his right hand down to enter in to his own fly. He grabbed hold of his powerful tool and started to pull it out through the opening. He had bend forward and twist a little, but with some uncomfortable contorting his throbbingly hard cock was released, a gossamer strand of precum descending from its swollen head.

I tilted my head back, opened my mouth and stuck out my tongue. Sir, with one hand gripped around the base of his pulsing prick, positioned his cock and gently started slapping it up and down on my eager tongue. As the sweet taste of him filled my mouth I became aware of my own cock starting to leak. I desperately wanted to start stroking myself, but knew from past encounters that Sir enjoyed the knowledge that he could bring me to completion without my cock untouched. I knew it wouldn’t take much this evening.

“No, in the past the other party has been very accommodating.” Sir grinned and slowly trust his pelvis forward, his cock sliding along my tongue. I took his lead and closed my mouth over him, rubbing my tongue in circles against his frenulum. Sir let go of his cock and brought his hand up to cover the mouthpiece whilst he gave a stifled groan.

He brought his phone back to his ear, and his other hand down to my head. He started rocking himself back and forth in to my mouth. I plunged further on to him, forcing his enormously thick head in to my throat. His hand was wrapped around the back of my head, not to force himself in to me, but I could gauge his encouragement and enjoyment by the way his fingers gripped me.

“Aye, he seem eager to pursue the deal.” Sir looked down and winked at me. I noted he’d dropped the more business-like “yes” and replaced it with “aye.” It emphasised his animalistic urges, despite his immaculate state of dress. I now knew beyond a doubt that he was teasing me with his double references. What I didn’t know was if the caller was just as aware, were they being teased too? I suspected so.

I decided to push my luck, and push my head further on to his cock. I dove down his cock until my nose was buried in his trimmed pubes. His enormous head filled my throat, preventing me from breathing, but sending euphoric signals directly to my groin. I could feel my new jock becoming damp with pre. Sir gasped and his knees buckled slightly. The hand around the back of my head took a stronger grip, impaling me that extra centimetre until my face was pushed up against his taught body. Sir made some involuntary noises without attempting to move the phone away. His caller must know something was going on now.

Although his grip on my head was firm, he allowed me to bob my head back and forth. I found it easier to keep his head within my throat, rather than having to force his swollen corona past my larynx over and over. Sir started moaning down the phone, his head tilted back. He caught his breathe to say “Aye, I’m fully invested in this negotiation. I’m afraid it’s going to require my full attention if I’m going to get the deal I want.” I withdrew from him, catching my own breath. Sir looked down, checking if I was ok, and why I might have stopped. I cocked an eyebrow, wondering what he wanted from this “deal.”

“Well, I think that’s a grand idea. Mah!” The last noise was as I dove down on to him and took his entire length within a second. I paused for a beat before resuming the bobbing and twisting of my head. Sir hung up the phone. Before he put his phone away, he started typing on it. A few seconds later it was tucked back in his inner breast pocket. His right hand joined his left on my head. His grip shifted, holding my head solidly. He withdrew so that only his head was in my mouth, before thrusting forward, his cock filling my mouth, but only half of it being within me. My tongue swirling inside my mouth trying to stimulate him as much as possible. He thrust away like that for about a minute before pulling back until the flare of his head was up against my lips, like the barbs on an arrow preventing it from being withdrawn. “Deep breath now, Wee Jock.” I took a few shallow breaths before inhaling deeply and filling my lungs. Sir took my queue before pushing himself in to me completely. My throat once again filling, my cock straining against my jock - leaking fluids like a tap. I wanted to moan, but I knew I should conserve the oxygen I held within my lungs. I started swallowing, and Sir started moaning in my stead. His thrusts became quicker and harder as his moan changed in to a growl. Like the Big Bad Wolf, Sir began huffing and puffing. He was certainly going to blow my house down.

With my mouth wedged open I started drooling saliva down the few inches of shaft plunging in and out of my mouth like a piston. It would drip down on to his large, pendulous balls and be flicked off on to my chest and my hands which were gripping on to his muscular thighs still enclosed within his suit trousers. I could feel the blood begin to pull in my head as he continued thrusting in to me. I started to fight the need to take a breath, I could feel his masterful cock swelling even further within my throat. His groans and grunts grew louder. He started repeating words like “yes” and “fuck.” Most of the time he wasn’t forming words. Just animalistic noises with each thrust.

He dropped his left hand and lightly gripped my throat, his right shifting to the back of my head, continuing to keep the pressure on. I wouldn’t be able to continue this for much longer. I needed to breathe, but at this moment, I needed him within me more.

His left hand on my throat I felt my skin moving under his fingertips. It was his cock thrusting up and down my oesophagus. He was so far down me, he was feeling himself within me, through my neck. I looked up and he was staring down at me. The sight of him power fucking my face whilst wearing the most impressive suit I’ve ever seen on a man was unbelievable. His red tie occasionally tapping my forehead. The formal attire could not mask the animal that was the mountainous man before me. It was all too much. I felt it build and could not stop it if I wanted to. I came.

I came on my knees with ten inches of thick man meat thrusting in to my throat. I attempted to groan, but the sound was perverted as it tried to make it’s way past Sir’s erect member, with his pubis covering my lips over and over and over again. My body tensed as the waves of orgasm passed over me. This, along with the additional stimulation from his own fingertips through my neck must have sent Sir of the edge as well. He gave a heavier grunt and thrust, leaving himself deep, deep within me. I could feel his cock pulse, but could not feel the jets of cum shoot out of it. He was too deep for that. I thought he would withdraw to shoot over me, but I don’t think he could move. I knew I couldn’t. I revealed in the knowledge that I seemed to have that power over him, even as he had so much power and control over me.

As the pulses in both our cocks subsided, he withdrew from my mouth. I could finally breathe, although pant was a better description. Sir’s erection had not started to subside, and he was still producing some cum. “Let me clean that off,” I said as I started slurping at his cock head like an ice cream cone on a hot day.

“Hmmmm…. Aye, I’d hate to get this suit stained.” Sir winked at me as I looked up at him.

Within a minute or so he had began to soften, and I had licked up as much of his produce as I could. He tucked himself back in to his trousers and zipped up his fly. “Well, we didn’t even make it to the bedroom. But from the state you’ve left your jock in, I don’t think you’re going to complain?”

I blushed. “No, Sir! But it’s early, I’m hoping there might be a round two?” I left the question hanging, knowing that some men couldn’t manage that. Or needed to sleep for half an hour before being able to get it up again. I was not one of those men. I’d be raring to go again in five minutes with Sir beside me.

“Oh, did you not hear earlier? We’ve got some negotiations to undertake if I want to get what I want out of this deal.”

“Oh, and what is it you want out of this deal?” I cocked my eyebrow again.

“I feel this is best discussed over a glass of champagne. I have some waiting in the fridge for us.” I brightened at that. Our previous sessions had lasted a lot longer, but I had always been dismissed at the end of them. Now he was keeping champagne aside? Sir took my grin as a confirmation and stepped off to the kitchen. I heard some doors opening and closing, a cork popping and a few moments later Sir returned with two glasses of champagne on a silver tray. He placed the tray on the sideboard, looked in the mirror above it to once again straighten his tie, and picked up both glasses, handing me one.

“To successful deals, both completed and undergoing negotiations.” He winked at me again as he held his glass towards me. We chinked before taking a sip

I was nervous. What did he want from me? Was he going to describe another of his fetishes? Was he wanting to make our meetings more of a regular occurrence? Was he going to ask me to be his boyfriend? HIs slave? You here about men that like that? What would I say? Before my imagination could run away from me I gathered the courage to just ask. “S-so, what were you wanting to discuss?” I tried to make it sound as casual as possible, but my voice wavered in the middle. To be honest in the last month or so that we had been meeting, we hadn’t spoken much. We had before we met, over messages online, but since meeting our communication was all over brief text messages.

“Lets go in to the sitting room.” Sitting room? Not a living room, but a sitting room: how posh. The sitting room was off the hall, as all these rooms were. There was a large bay window with the curtains drawn, fireplace with a marble hearth and wooden mantle, a moderately large tv between the two. Arranged to face the fire and the tv were two two-seater sofas and a coffee table. On the wall with the door there was another sideboard. No Ikea furniture here. With the exception of the couches and the tv, this was all old furniture, built to last. I remember my gran having an old sideboard like this.

“Would you like to sit?” I felt a bit odd being asked to do such a normal thing whilst wearing only a jockstrap, and he remained fully clothed. I looked around a bit, thrown by such a normal request. “You can keep standing if you like, but I’d like to sit if you don’t mind.” Sir sat slightly off centre to one of the sofas. He spread his arms across the back of it and his legs wide. The site of him sitting there, like a king on his throne, glass of champagne in his hand eyeing me up and down, with a small grin on his face turned me on (I knew it wouldn’t be long until I was ready for round two). I was half expecting him to tell me to get on my knees again, but instead he continued the conversation from the hall.

“I wanted to run a few ideas by you, see how -“ He was interrupted by a knock at the door.

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