m/m The Adventures of a Mighty Mouse - Parts 1 - 10 (New)

[londonboy]

Adventure Number 9

 

“Put the car down, Mighty Mouse, someone is going to come along,” Jamal said.

“And what if they do . . . it’ll be a big treat for them to see little old me hitting some reps with this SUV,” I replied.

“Yeah, but they’ll also see me stretched out on the top enjoying the ride,” Jamal answered.  “I don’t want anyone to get the impression that I’m weak or anything.”

“But you are weak, big guy . . . compared to me, that is,” I answered, setting the big car back down on the ground and Jamal slid off the roof.

“Gut punch?” he asked.

“Swing away, bud,” I answered.

Jamal let both of his massive arms fly through the air with powerful, scary-looking fists leading the way.  One was aimed at my skinny man’s stomach and one was aimed at the middle of the door on the SUV.  One was stopped, cold . . . one was not.  Watching the big rugby player’s knuckles burst through the metal door was so incredibly hot.  He simply plowed his fist through to the inside of the car – as if the door had been nothing more than tissue.  His other fist, however, was not as lucky.  My unmoving mid-section made his fingers compress in on themselves as they clearly met with something much more powerful.  My big handsome athlete had learned to not use his full power when hitting me, for it would have shattered the bones in his fingers and wrist, but he did like to use enough force to make it hurt . . . for him to get a glimpse of my true strength.  

“Impressive,” I said looking at the hole he made in the vehicle.  “It’s a shame your other fist couldn’t make my skin compress in even slightly.  “Watch this, muscle guy.”

I put my forefinger against the door – near where his fist had made a hole.  I pressed in . . . with just my finger, and not using much strength at all, and the loud popping of metal being penetrated echoed down the street.  It took most of his strength to punch through the metal door.  I poked my finger through it with little effort.  I did another hole across from that one and then let those be the eyes of a smiley face as I did a bunch more in a curve beneath.  We both surveyed my finger work and Jamal shook his head in amazement.  He outstretched his arm with his fist out – like he wanted me to bump it with mine, but I knew what he really wanted.  I placed my forefinger against his knuckles.  It looked like an infant’s finger up against a massive strongman.  ‘Go,’ he said, but I did nothing.  I simply held my skinny arm in place, while his massive – bigger than my torso – biceps tensed hard as he pushed forward with all his might.  You would think my weak-looking joints would crumple or my arm would be pushed out of its socket – but none of that came to pass.  I simply held my finger against the wall of his giant fist and easily caused him to wear his arm out trying to make me move.  It had become a little game of ours – him trying to use his massive body to make even one of my fingers budge.  He had yet to succeed – which frustrated the hell out of him and thrilled him at the same time.  

“Sometimes, I think your one finger must hold all the power of the universe,” Jamal said, after giving up and wiping sweat off of his face.

“That’s a hot thought, isn’t it, babe?” I asked as we started to walk.

“Hey, no love-talk in public . . . remember?” Jamal said, looking around.    

“Oh, that’s right, can’t have people thinking my baby is a kept man,” I teased.

“Mighty mouse, you got to watch what you say.  For my sake, man.  Oh shit, here comes head Coach Watson.  Promise me you’ll be cool, little man,” Jamal said, looking all nervous.

Watson looked like a stereotypical coach.  He was a thick, hairy man smoking a big cigar as he meandered down the sidewalk.  His gut was thick, too, and I could tell by the way he walked he was cocky as hell.  My small cock started to get hard as I contemplated the fun I was going to have with this guy.  

“Why aren’t you in the gym, Jamal?” the older man asked when he saw my lover – there was no hello or even a glance in my direction.

“I’ve already been, sir.  I was there at five-thirty,” Jamal answered, all obedient and semi-scared.

“Five-thirty!  On a Saturday?  Why the hell did you go that early, son?” Watson bellowed, loudly.

“Um . . . let’s just say something powerful tossed me out of bed at that time, sir,” Jamal said, glancing at me.

“Fucking hell, it must have been to get you up that early,” Watson answered and then he glanced at me.  “Who’s the shrimp?”

“Um . . . this is my friend, Coach.  We call him Mighty Mouse . . . he may be small, but . . . uh . . . looks can be deceiving, you know,” Jamal fumbled with his reply.

“Nothing mighty about him at all, but the mouse part fits.  Coach Watson, kid.  I’ll be careful not to squeeze too hard . . . wouldn’t want to break anything on you,” he said holding out a big, hairy, thick hand.

I smiled as I looked at the hand offered.  I also turned to see that Jamal had beads of sweat forming on his forehead.  He had pleading eyes . . . but I couldn’t tell if he didn’t want me to use my super strength or if he was begging me to put this cocky asshole in his place.  It didn’t really matter, either way I was going to do what I wanted to do.  I slipped my childlike hand into that of the Coach and squeezed.  I squeezed hard.  I didn’t ease into it, like some powerful men might.  I just clamped down with enough force to be noticed and do a little damage.  So much happened all at the same time.  Bones in the hairy hand adjusted and crackled because of my power.  The cigar dropped from the man’s mouth to the ground as he let out a blood-curdling scream of pain.  And the big man . . . all three-hundred and something pounds of him . . . dropped to his knees in a sign of defeated submission in split second.  Even in the midst of all that happening, I still noticed that Jamal’s mighty cock stirred to attention in his cotton shirts.  Coach Watson’s eyes were wider than saucers and he stared up at me as he continued to yell.  I didn’t lessen my grip and just spoke over him.

“When you going to start squeezing, Coach?  I was thinking a big man like you might have some power.  I guess I was mistaken.  You might need to work on that grip, fella.  Wouldn’t want any of your players to start thinking you were weak, would we?” I asked, smiling . . . and squeezing.

“Fucking let go, son!  You’re crushing my hand!” yelled the kneeling man.

“What?  Tiny little me?  I’m hurting big old you?  Didn’t you just call me a shrimp?  Weren’t you nervous about breaking my frail little hand?  How could I possibly be making a strong man like you fall to his knees in pain,” I teased through a condescending smile.

“Make him stop, Jamal!  He’s going to crush my hand!” Coach Watson pleaded.

“Come on, Mighty Mouse . . . he’s my coach.  Cut him some slack,” Jamal begged, but I knew he was enjoying the show.

I let go and watched as Coach Watson immediately started shaking out his hand and wiggling his fingers.  I didn’t give him much time to recover.  I reached down, grabbed the front of his shirt and the front of his nylon shorts, and easily hoisted his bulky body over my head.  My arms were extended and I turned our bodies so we faced Jamal.  The shocked man let out a few expletives and then looked down at me from above my head.  I could see fear in his eyes.

“How about it, Coach Watson?  Did you ever dream about being able to fly?  You know, like a bird.  You want to soar through the air with the greatest of ease?  I’m thinking it would be fun to toss you to the top of that dorm right there.  What would that be . . . six floors?  Eight floors?  Maybe even ten.  What do you say?  Shall we see how high I can send you flying?” I continued to tease.

“No!  I don’t want to fly!  Please put me down, Mighty Mouse.  Jamal!  Help!,” cried the shaking older man. 

Unfortunately, I didn’t listen to him.  Coach Watson flew into the air – screaming even louder than before.  He soared higher than the building, paused briefly in the sky and then started to fall toward the roof of the dorm.  He closed his eyes tightly, anticipating the landing on the concrete – but it never came.  The touchdown was soft and he found that he was still in the outstretched hands of the powerful small guy.  Mighty Mouse was looking up at the coach when the guy finally opened his eyes.

“Not bad for a little leap, huh, Coach Watson?  You should see me when I really use the power in my wheels.  I’m thinking of one day bringing down some satellites that I know are used for some not-so-legal spying.  It’s cool to think I could jump up into space, rip the thing apart, and either let he pieces float away or have it burn up as I brought it back through the layers of our ozone.  Take a look at Jamal down there.  Even from this distance the dude is freaking huge.  Careful, that first step there is a doozy,” I said, teasingly, as I leaned over the edge.

“Please don’t let go,” Coach Watson begged.

“Aw man, even if I did I could jump down there a lot faster than your falling body and be ready to catch you when you arrived.  Care to find out?” I asked, holding his body straight out over the long drop to the ground.

“No!” he yelped. 

“Okay, have it your way,” I replied as I stepped off the roof and both of us fell downward.

There was, again, a loud scream as we rocketed to the ground.  I landed softly and my arms took most of the impact of landing away from the Coach’s body.  He was merely jostled slightly and when I put him back on the ground his legs visibly wobbled.  The man looked a little dazed.

“Jamal, I do believe your good Coach, here, is afraid of heights,” I said, working hard to stifle a laugh.  

“I’d say the high-pitched squeals of fear were a big clue,” Jamal answered, winking at me.  

“How . . . how?” the Coach asked Jamal, pointing at me.  “How . . . the strength?”

“Not exactly sure, Coach.  Maybe good vitamins when he was a child?” Jamal answered the baffled older man.

“I did only eat the Bam-Bam vitamins from my Flintstones bottles,” I added.

“Show me more,” the older man begged – ignoring my joke.

“Show you more of what, Coach?” I teased.

“Your super strength, Mighty Mouse!” he hollered back, which made me slip a devilish smile towards Jamal.  

“Seems Coach has a little power fetish, Jamal,” I said.

“Don’t we all,” Jamal answered.  

I looked around.  I was actually in the mood for destroying something.  Nothing huge . . . just something that a normal guy couldn’t do anything to.  That gave me an idea and I surveyed the sidewalk and street.  All the cars weren’t going to serve my purpose, but it was tempting to rip one apart.  I’d save that display of strength to thrill Jamal at another time.  My gaze landed on the new reinforced computerized parking meters than had recently been put in on this street – the city realizing what a moneymaker it would be to charge college students desperate for an education to park at their already ridiculously expensive university.  This would be the perfect item for my torment of Coach Watson and Jamal, while – at the same time – showing off, too.  I strolled over to one of the steel meters, secured tightly in the ground.  

“Hey, Coach, why don’t you come over here and show me what kind of damage you can do to this parking meter,” I said.

“What?” asked the burly man.

“Come try and mess up this metal parking meter in any way you can,” I replied.

Both the Coach and Jamal smiled.  They understood we were engaging in some strength foreplay before I would bring on the ultimate orgasm at the end.  We all knew Coach Watson couldn’t do a thing to the meter, but all of us wanted to watch him try.  The hairy brute walked over and grabbed the thing with both of his big hands.  He leaned back and pulled at the same time.  The pole stayed fully erect in a straight line, as if teasing the older man.  Next, the coach put his hands against the thick meter and pushed with all his might – again, nothing happened.  

“That thing’s no going anywhere,” Coach Watson said.  “It’s cemented firmly into the sidewalk and that metal is not yielding to anything.”

His words made my crotch throb in anticipation.  It was true . . . as long as it was the coach trying to move it . . . the pole wasn’t going anywhere and the meter was made of solid steel.  I looked over at Jamal and motioned to the meter.  He came over to the thing, but took a different attack than his coach.  He brought his knee up to his abs and then let his giant foot slam against the metal pole.  The meter moved a slight bit, like the stem of a flower wobbling in a breeze.  His power thrust, however, did nothing more than Coach Watson’s abuse.  

“Who knew parking meters were built so tough,” Jamal said, grabbing hold of the thing and trying to bend it toward him – to no avail.  

I walked over to the meter, brushing Jamal away by moving my fingers in the air.  I looked at the meter, shook my head as if I pitied the thing for what was about to happen, and made a tsk-tsk sound.  My small hand didn’t even entirely wrap around the pole.  I knew Jamal’s huge fingers would have overlapped his thumb by a lot.  His hands were giant sized.  I squeezed and the metal gave.  I loved how I could make grooves in steel.  I barely pulled up and immediately cracks scattered across the concrete where the pole went into the sidewalk.  A huge chunk of cement came up with the pole as I easily ripped the meter from the ground – without even much of a tense.  Three cocks hardened immediately at the sight, but mine shot rigid the fastest.  I barely pulled and the blasted thing was torn from the sidewalk as if some giant machine was pulling it up.  Man, how it turned me on to do powerful things with barely any effort.      

“Yeah!  What little weaklings you two are.  It didn’t take any strength at all for me to rip this thing out of the ground.  I can’t believe neither one of you could do it.  Look how concrete gave into my power, fellas.  Speaking of concrete, let’s see how easily I can destroy it.”

I grabbed a huge chunk of cement that clung to the weighted end of the pole that had been submerged in the ground.  My small hand broke it off and I held it in the air before Jamal and Coach Watson.  My hand started squeezing and solid rock started being crushed into sand and dust.  My tiny fingers demolished cement like it was child’s play.  I watched – in awe of myself – as I crushed cement into nothing.  By this point, Coach Watson had his hand down the front of his pants and he was clearly pumping his cock like crazy.  The sight of this big burly hairy beast of a man getting off on the super strength I possessed in one hand was incredible.  It maked me destroy the big piece of sidewalk even faster, loving the sound of cement giving into my powerful grip.  

“Fucking hell, fellas, concrete isn’t strong at all.  I crush it like it’s nothing more than flimsy potato chips.  Listen to how it crunches as I smash it in my hands,” I said like a joyous kid.  

I would close my palm around a chunk of cement, squeeze hard, and then open it back up to reveal just a pile of sand – which I’d let fall to the ground.  I continued to do this until there wasn’t a trace of rock left around the weighted base of the pole.  All three of us noted how easy it was for me to destroy something so powerful.  We also all knew I was the only one who could do it.  There were two manly muscled beasts standing there – all strong-looking and tough – but neither could crush concrete the way the dweeb standing in front of them could.  This made the world seem so imbalanced for Jamal and his coach, but it also turned them on in a way they couldn’t explain.  Coach Watson was still yanking his cock like his life depended on it and I could tell by Jamal’s silence that he was willing himself not to explode – even without touching himself.  It was cool to have super strength, but it was even better to have this kind of power over huge muscular men – the ability to make them shoot off like a loaded gun.

“Take a rest, big Coach.  I don’t want you to lose your seed too early.  I’ve got some more destruction to do,” I said, smiling up at the hulking man.

Coach Watson stopped stroking his cock and I could tell he was teetering on the edge of release.  I didn’t do anything, letting him calm down a little before we had more fun.  Veins were popping out all over his arms.  I could even see them through the dense fur.  That’s how tensed the fella was.  There were sweat spots on his shirt, too.  I was giving the man one hell of a sexual workout.  I reached out and grabbed the meter at the end of the pole.  I squeezed and the steel casing gave way to my strength, immediately.  Coach Watson let out a moan, but did not return his hand to his pants.  He clearly wanted to make this last as long as he could.  I crushed the metal meter easily and ripped it from the pole at the same time.  It was like I was snapping a thin breadstick in two.  

“Damn, metal is even more flimsy than concrete, guys.  Did you see how I tore this thing in two with nothing more than a little tug.  I bet your huge muscled arms couldn’t do that Jamal, could they?” I teased.

“No way,” he replied, smiling proudly at my abilities.

“And how about you, Coach?” I asked.

“Fucking no chance in hell,” he answered, quickly.  

“Yeah, it’s good to be little ol’ me – a tiny superman,” I added.

“Listen to that metal scream while I compress it with my small hand.  It sounds like the whimpering sounds of a huge man I know when he’s begging for my ass to milk his giant dong.  But I digress.  Compacting metal with one hand is so hot, huh fellas?  Yeah, destroying this meter like it was nothing but wet newspaper.  Fuck, that’s some power, guys.  I’m not even squeezing that hard,” I said, as I mangled the meter into a blob of steel in my hand.  

“No one can have such power,” Coach Watson said as he watched the destruction my fingers were causing.

“No one but Mighty Mouse,” Jamal replied, and it made me laugh.

“Hey Coach, do you know if the baseball team’s looking for new players.  I can guarantee I’ll hit it out of the park each time.  Out of the park, out of the county, out of the ozone . . . even out of our galaxy,” I teased.

I stepped away from the two men.  I tossed the crushed meter into the air with one hand and swung the metal pole with the other.  When the two met there was a loud smack that sounded like thunder.  Without even using much force at all, I sent the clump of steel soaring into the sky like some kind of super military missile.  It zoomed out of sight passed clouds and into the unknown.  Jamal and Coach Watson stared upward, trying to watch it as long as they could.  All of us knew that clump of metal was never coming down.

“I’d say I have a pretty good arm, wouldn’t you, Coach?  I wonder what would happen if I used both hands,” I said, laughing.

“Fucking hell, you could take out fighter jets with those arms, boy,” Coach said, staring at me.

“That’s a hot idea, Coach.  We’ll have to try it sometime.  Hey, I’ve got an idea.  How about I help you see what it feels like to have this kind of power,” I said, smiling and holding up the thick pole from the parking meter.  “Try and bend this, man”

I tossed him the pole and noticed how heavy it was in his hands when he caught it.  He was surprised by how much strength he had to use to hold it in the air.  I had been waving it around so easily with one of my scrawny arms, that the big hairy muscleman must have thought it was as light as a feather.  It was actually a little bit of a strain for him to hold it up in the air.  The masculine coach grabbed it at both ends and held it at chest level.  He grunted as he applied all of his strength attempting to make the metal bend.  His efforts did nothing, however.  He looked pretty funny – trying to make steel do his bidding.  I found his grunts and the drops of sweat forming on his forehead kind of hot.  His weakness was a turn on for me, but merely because of how easy I’d be able to do what he couldn’t.  I signaled with my chin that Coach should give Jamal a try, too.  Jamal caught the pole and held it aloft a little easier than the older man – mainly because Jamal was so much bigger.  Even with all of his massively bulging muscles, the giant Jamal could do nothing to the pole.  The metal didn’t give at all even as the huge rugby player used all of his might.  This got me leaking pre-cum.  My big strong boyfriend couldn’t make steel yield to his power.  With just a fraction of my strength I could accomplish what both of these masculine big guys could only imagine being able to do.  And now, it was time to help Coach Watson get a feel for what it’s like to be super strong – and make him explode at the same time.

“Come stand behind me, Coach, and grab the bar a little wider than where my hands are,” I instructed and stepped up snug behind me.  “Whoa, Coach!  Is that a baseball bat in your pants or are you just glad to see me?”

“It’s more about your fucking incredible strength, son,” the elder muscular man replied, honestly.  

“I do seem to have that effect on people.  It seems that no one is immune to being turned on by my Mighty Mouse power.  That’s a pretty hefty log you’re sporting, Coach.  Probably, only second to the humongous organ of giant Jamal,” I said.

“None of the coaches or other players go into the shower when Jamal’s in there, because we immediately feel inadequate and severely impotent – just from seeing the Redwood that swings between his giant legs,” Coach Watson answered.      

“He does have a mighty fine third leg, that’s for sure.  Alright, big guy . . . let’s see what you’ve got.  Make those big balls of yours churn out some extra power and show this pole who’s boss,” I encouraged.

Big, thick, furry knuckles wrapped around the bar near my think hairless fingers.  It almost looked like Sasquatch was holding something alongside a toddler.  The Coach’s huge mitts looked powerful, manly, and able to do tons of damage.  No leveled-thinking human would even begin to think that the tiny, fragile hands beside his were actually a hundred times stronger.  The elder man towered behind me and his hard cock pressed against my ass and back.  I could tell he was looking at the size difference of our hands, as well.  His cock twitched as he thought about the incredible things my puny-looking ones could do.  He was also getting excited about what he knew was about to happen.  We held the bar in the air – even with his chest and about eye level for me.  

“So, Coach, you gotta want to teach this pole a lesson.  You gotta believe that solid steel has nothing against your old man power.  You need to know, deep in your balls, that you have the strength of a superhero.  You’re going to teach this strip of metal a lesson . . . you’re going to show it who’s boss.  You’re going to make it scream from being manipulated by something much more powerful . . . much more destructive.  I want to feel every fucking muscle bulging on your body, man.  Show me what kind of manly muscle you have,” I said, egging the guy to the edge of orgasm.  

“Fucking yeah,” Coach Watson screamed as he started to focus every ounce of strength in his body on the steel bar that once held a parking meter on one end.  

I let the man feel the strain for a few beats, knowing his body was tensing up everywhere and that veins were popping out on his forehead from the intense effort.  I then started slowly adding my own super pressure – only a mere fraction of it, though, so he wouldn’t notice.  The middle of the bar made a loud screech and dented in slightly underneath.  The elation that shot through the big man’s body was palpable.  His mind was suspending disbelief and allowing him to feel as if he were making the pole do his bidding.  To make Coach Watson feel like he was doing even more, I held the bar between just my forefingers and thumbs.  It looked like I was merely touching the steel bar as he bent it.  Knowing I had more power in just my fingers – maybe even just one finger – than this huge hirsute man did in his entire body was such a turn on.  Helping him feel like he was super strong, however, was even more exciting.  I bent the bar more as the man behind me grunted and used all of his brute force.

“Fuck yeah, bending steel, fellas,” Coach Watson said through gritted teeth.  “Captain America has nothing on me.  I’m going to destroy this fucking thing.”

The Coach was getting into this roleplay a lot more than I anticipated.  He was clearly loving the idea that he could demolish solid steel.  I bent the pole even more as the big man started heaving deep breaths and pushing his big arms down even more.  Helping him feel like he had super powers was making my own small dick hard as hell.  Hearing him grunt and talk about his unbelievable strength – and at the same time knowing it was my small body doing all the actual work – was almost enough to make me shoot off like a cannon.  By this point the meter pole was bent into a right angle.  I still used only my thumbs and forefingers to deform the thing.  The Coach and I kept working at it until the two ends met – the pole bent double.  

“Look at the power, boys!  This big man still has it!  Fuck, it was nice to demolish metal,” Watson bellowed as we both let the pole fall to the ground with a loud clang.  “And now, I must exit quickly, fellas, I need to get home and beat off before the euphoria of bending metal wears off.  

And with that, the older man left quickly, almost running down the sidewalk.  Jamal and I looked at each other and the big guy shrugged his shoulders.  
 

[JasperGhost]

I was hoping for more Mighty Mouse adventures, lol. Thanks 

[cregssatx]

London, glad to see you back!  Love your writing... and this story is still so good!  Thank you for the new episode!

[londonboy]

Adventure Number 10

“This is going to be fun,” I said, smiling at my big lover, as I reached my little hand out to grab the enormous padlock on the gate to one of the side entrances of the university’s stadium.

“No, not like that,” Jamal said, looking at me.  “If you rip the lock off, we’ll be leaving the stadium open to anyone who wants to come in.  Hot as it would be to watch you demolish it, that’s not what we should do.  You should do it in a way that you can put back when we’re done.  Can you bend the bars?”

“Can I bend the bars?” I repeated, laughing.  “Babe, you’re talking to Mighty Mouse, remember?  I can bend them using only my pinkies.  

I put my smallest fingers on the inside of the two bars in the center and I started pushing out.  Metal squealed as it was easily pried apart by my waif-like fingers.  I easily made a hole even big enough for the monstrous Jamal to squeeze through.  I looked up at the huge man behind me.  He was staring at my fingers and at the large open space in the gate.  I saw lust in his eyes – lust for the kind of power that just my fingers contained.  It was clear he had known I could do it, but it was fun for him to act like he hadn’t.  

“You make that look so easy,” Jamal commented, shaking his head in disbelief.

“That’s because it is easy,” I replied and stepped back so he could go through the hole first.  “What, big strong Jamal can’t bend metal?”

“Not when it’s that thick,” he answered, looking at me like I was some kind of superhero . . . which I was.  

“These metal bars are not as thick as that giant piece of meat hardening between your legs, big man,” I teased.  “Anyway, what’s the use of being as big as a bus, like you are, and covered in humongous mountains of muscle if you can’t bend some measly bars like Hercules?” 

“Not everyone can be Mighty Mouse, man,” Jamal said, making me smile.  “I’m not wanting to climb down all those stairs to the field, dude.”

“And what do you want me to do about that?” I teased.

“Pick me up with one hand and jump us down there,” Jamal said, as if it were a no-brainer.  “But not before you put those bars back in place.”

“It’s two in the morning,” I laughed.  “No one is going to be coming down to the stadium.”

“I know that, but I just like watching you make solid steel do your bidding,” Jamal answered.  

There was no way to argue with his logic.  I had basically just become Jamal’s super powerful show off and I didn’t mind.  My feats of strength kept the big rugby player in a state of perpetual hard-on.  I’m surprised he never blacked out from all the blood constantly flowing to his crotch.  He was like a big spoiled baby and I was the care-giver that made his every wish come true.  The big man moaned softly at the shrieking of metal being put back into its place by my fingers.  When I was done, Jamal ran his own hand along the bars – loving how hot they now were and the slight imperfections my powerful fingers left in the metal when they were done.  Hoisting the giant man into the air with one hand as easily as he might lift a rugby ball made him moan even louder.  The man clearly never got tired of my strength.  It was like it surprised him every time I did something – like pick his colossal body up so easily.  

“Toss me from one hand to the other,” begged Jamal – a new game we both enjoyed.  

Watching such a humongous mound of muscle go up in the air and over my head to land in my other tiny palm was such a kick for me – but probably not even close to how it made Jamal feel.  It was like tossing an orange or something even lighter back and forth.  I’m sure it would have made an awesome video for us to jerk each other off to – I’d have to remember to film it sometime.  Back and forth the big guy went, with my arms not getting tired at all.  Eventually, the big man got a little sick from the motion, though, and we’d had to stop.

“Let’s go to the field, Mighty Mouse.  I’m sure we can find some fun things to do down there,” Jamal finally said after the seventh or eighth time he flew over my head.

I held the big guy in the palm of my right hand and jumped from the top of the stadium down to the sunken field.  I knew Jamal loved soaring through the air.  He said the cool breeze always felt incredible.  He also said it was the closest he was ever going to feel like he was flying.  I kept telling him I could throw him far into the distance and easily jump ahead of his flying body to catch him, but he always declined the offer.  I think he was nervous I might not be able to control my strength and throw him too hard to beat his body to the place to catch him.  He was still having trouble understanding how I could control my power in any way I wanted and the fact that there was nothing I couldn’t do.  I didn’t push the fact, though . . . since it was so much fun to watch him still get blown away by something incredible I could do.  We landed center field with a thud and then I placed his giant body gingerly on the ground.  I took advantage of the moment and stroked his massive hard-on a few times through his shorts.  It had been a few hours since he had plowed me and I was missing the feeling of the big man squirming in pain as my ass cheeks clamped the hell out of his giant rod.  

“How bout I blow you right here, Jamal.  In the place where you have squashed so many other big men during matches.  I could have you down on your knees with a few powerful sucks and then make you explode with orgasmic happiness,” I tempted.

“As good as that sounds, my superman, I’m looking forward to a few things before we get to plowing each other.  Now, how to get some of the lights on,” the big man said.  

And, as if on cue, some of the big stadium lights blasted on.  Only a few of them, but the lit the field.  Immediately, a security guard stepped out of a doorway to the right.  A pretty big looking fella who stormed across the open space towards us.  As soon as he was close enough to see who we were, I saw a dramatic change in his face.  He went from a ‘gonna kick some ass’ look to one that could only be described as a happy puppy.

“You fellas aren’t supposed to be out here,” the guard said, but not in a menacing voice – it sounded more like a suggestion.

“Hey pops, I’m Jamal and this is my friend.  I just wanted to show him the stadium,” my big lover said and I noticed the guard’s eyes grew wider.

“Aw crap, I just knew it was you.  I worship the ground you walk on, Jamal.  It’s a pleasure to meet you.  You’re the best athlete this school has ever had.  Oh fuck, this is the best night, ever,” the lovesick guard replied.  “There’s no one bigger or stronger than you, man!” 

“I wouldn’t be so sure about the strength part, pops,” Jamal answered, smiling at me, “But I’m certainly the biggest.

Jamal had his tight shirt off of his hulking body in one fell swoop.  Both the security guard and I let out a quick gasp as we were blessed with a view of his enormous muscle packed upper torso.  The sight of my big boy would never get old for me.  I might have been able to toss him up to a plane flying overhead, but my man’s bulges were definitely the hottest thing around.  My cock was super hard instantly.  I could see that our elderly security guard definitely had the hots for Jamal.  I recognized a familiar lust in his eyes.  It was the same look I got every time I looked at the huge athlete, too.  I was needing to be alone with my muscleman cause my need for sex was making me go wild.  I picked up the guard with a suddenness and ease that made the man let out a high pitched scream.  His brain couldn’t compute what I was doing fast enough.  I kind of twirled him around above my head, just to shock him even more.  

“My little friend, here, pops, is so strong he could bring down this stadium if he wanted to, but don’t worry he’s not into destruction,” Jamal said, staring at me with a similar lust in his eyes.  

“Here, Jamal, why don’t you give our friend here a strong bear hug to thrill him in a way he never dreamed was possible,” I said as I tossed the guy to my huge lover. 

The security guard went sailing through the air.  It felt like I was just tossing a baseball.  Here I was, this miniscule little fella able to throw a grown man with almost no effort at all.  I loved that feeling.  And I loved how it impressed the hell out of Jamal and the security guard.  Jamal was knocked back a few steps from the impact of my ‘simple’ toss.  I think both men had some of the air knocked out of them – just as I had planned.  Sure, Jamal could easily hold another guy in the air, but he couldn’t do it with one hand like me.  He also couldn’t have tossed the guy out of the stadium if he wanted to . . . like I knew I could.  By now, my big dark lover had his monstrous arms wrapped around the smaller security guard and was hugging him with all his might.  I swear the guard was cooing like a baby.  Jamal’s muscular arms reflected the moonlight and I found myself getting appropriately aroused.  Finally, my giant lover dropped the guard to his feet.  The smaller guy was a little unstable and mumbling like a small child, but Jamal patted him on the butt and then gently pushed him in the direction he had come from.

“How about you go dream about me, pops.  And what it felt to be wrapped up in these big arms.  My little Mighty Mouse is going to show off for me and I’m not sure you’d be able to handle watching what he can do.  We won’t destroy too much and I promise to make my super strong friend put things back the way they were after we have our fun.  Are you okay to walk, there, pops?  You look a little lost,” Jamal said as we watched the guard sway back and forth as he walked away.

“Big . . . muscle . . . beast . . . crush . . . me . . . arms . . . steel,” the drunk-looking guy said as he wobbled away. 

“He’s going to be in Jamal heaven for a week or two.  I know how he feels,” I said, winking at my big muscled boyfriend.  “Gotta toss my fucking huge lover across the field, just because I can . . . but don’t worry, I’ll be on the other end to catch you, sweet cakes.”

I didn’t give Jamal time to argue or even really think about what I was going to do.  I grabbed the guy roughly, tossed him slightly into the air, and catching his giant frame with one small hand on his chest as he came back down.  I quickly cocked my arm back and then sent a grown man sailing through the air – the full length of the football field – making him look like a superhero flying.  I waited a few beats, knowing I could outrun his speeding body with little effort.  The swiftness of my legs making the Flash look as slow as a snail in comparison.  I was very impressed with the height and accuracy of my throw.  I was more impressed with the numerous seconds wait I had after reaching the other end of the field – having passed the flying Jamal before he reached the fifty yard mark.  I caught the big guy with one hand – loving how he let out a squeal of delight as he soared through the air.  It was getting much easier to lift the giant Jamal.  I knew he wasn’t losing weight, so the only other answer was I was still getting stronger and stronger.  This stadium was used for numerous sports – Jamal’s rugby matches, the school American football game, soccer matches, track and field events and much more.  I tossed Jamal up to the cross bar of the football goal.  He grabbed hold of the side – landing in a standing position.  

“Some kind of warning would be nice, Mighty Mouse,” Jamal yelled down at me.  

“Quit your worrying, big man.  Your feet won’t touch the ground until I want them to.  I wouldn’t ever let you fall and hurt that gorgeous huge body of yours,” I teased back.  “Anyway, let’s get you back down to the ground the easy way,” I said, walking over to the singular thick pole that held the goal up.  

I placed one hand against the thick cylinder of support and started pushing.  It looked like I was just leaning against a light post or something, but the squeaking sound of metal being forced to do something it didn’t want to do made it quite obvious that something was going on.  Bending a goal post – an astounding feat in its own right – was a breeze for my little arm.  I loved how something supposedly so indestructible yielded so easily to just a simple shove from tiny me.

“Fucking hell, what does it feel like to be able to do that, Mouse?” Jamal asked, holding on to the side part of the goal as the thing moved toward the ground.

“To tell you the truth, my big muscleman, I don’t even think about it,” I responded as I slowed down the abuse I was giving the goal to ponder my strength.  “It’s probably something like the way you don’t even pause to consider how your big, powerful hand will open the lid of a jar or pick up a twenty-pound weight.  There are just things that enormous body of yours can do without even considering how you do it.  Yeah, it’s like that.  I just knew I could manipulate this giant metal column with the same effort you might use to bend a fork or spoon.  My twigs-for-arms simply possess the power equal to a few hurricanes put together.  A giant steel beam offers me no resistance.  I could sink one hand into the thick cylinder column and rip the thing out of the ground with a slight jerk, if you care to see.”

“No . . . no . . . no, we’re leaving everything just as it was . . . remember.  No sign of Mighty Mouse having been here.  That was the deal,” Jamal said, wrapping his hands around the metal prong as it started to become horizontal with the ground.  

“I don’t know J-man, it might be fun to hide out somewhere in the stands and watch your teammates freak out when they come in and see this big goal touching the ground . . . they’d probably spend a good hour discussing what kind of huge machine was used to twist the thing down.  You’d get freaking, painfully hard as they talked about bulldozers, giant cranes, and massive trucks . . . but knowing, all the time, it was my little childlike hand that had made metal scream and do my bidding with not much effort, at all.  Your juices boil mega-hot when you think about such a tiny dude, as me, with the strength of four Superman’s put together.  That huge dong of yours gets extra hard knowing my little pinkie could take on the entire rugby team and easily defeat them all.  There’s just something about a pocket-sized pipsqueak being able to take on thousands of men at one time and easily winning that makes that super-tight man ass of yours beg for invasion.  I bet you want me to plow you right now, don’t you?” I asked, teasing him.

“Right there in the middle of the field, Mouse.  I never thought those words would come out of my mouth . . . but having you take me in the same place where I have overpowered tons of guys in every match, well, that just sounds like heaven to me.  I’d even like to fight you . . . like I didn’t want it to happen and have you conquer me, easily,” Jamal said – with a deep, newfound honesty that has been released in him from meeting me.  “I want to get you so excited, Mouse, that when you explode into my ass you’ll send me flying up to the back row of the stadium seats way up in the nosebleed section.”

“Damn, Jamal, you’re turning into one huge superstrength slut, aren’t you?  You just can’t get enough of my power, can you?  We both gotta hold out for that guaranteed explosion that will end our little time, here.  I’ve still got some fun and games planned.  We don’t want the night to end prematurely, now, do we?  You want your Mighty Mouse to have some more fun showing off, right?” I asked as I stopped my powerful bending of the pole and walked over to take his big body back into one hand as he let go of the goal.  

“I don’t know, Mighty Mouse.  I’m beginning to enjoy the pounding as much as the showing off,” Jamal answered.

“Oh my god, has the huge, muscled behemoth, Jamal, become a true card-carrying bottom?” I asked as I bounced his giant body in the palm of one hand – grabbing his ass tightly each time he landed.  

“Proudly, Mighty Mouse!  I know when to give in to my alpha,” Jamal said with sudden seriousness.  “Tossing my body into the air with one hand is one thing, but easily pushing over a sturdy, supposedly unmovable big football goal is power on a level I can barely comprehend.  I can only believe it because I’m lucky enough to watch you do it.  My tight hole is like some ring I’d like I’d like to put on your finger to pledge my love to you forever.  Never in my wildest dreams would I have ever thought I’d be swearing my devotion to some miniscule, boyish man . . . but never in my wildest dreams would I have thought I’d meet a true superman.  I’m yours, little guy – mind, heart, and crotch.  I couldn’t quit you even if I wanted to . . . you’ve become my tiny knight in shining super-powered armor.”

To hear this giant, muscled, black man of my dreams declare his love for me – right in the spot where I watched him take on and defeat hordes of smaller musclemen week after week was nothing short of heaven on earth.  I had never felt so complete . . . so happy . . . so loved.  I tossed him into the air with a little spin – causing him to turn upside down – and caught him in my powerful arms at his firm tight waist.  I then raised him into the air and we kissed deeply – him, upside down like a hulking Spiderman.  Whenever we kissed, now, Jamal would try desperately to overpower my tongue with his, but he’d always lose.  Every part of me was stronger than him and he knew it . . . it was just fun to try.  I finally pulled his body from mine, making our mouths pop as they broke apart.  

“You make me the happiest Mighty Mouse in the world, Jamal,” I said, staring into his dark brown eyes.  

“And you make me the happiest massive, bulging muscleman in the world, too,” he responded.  “Toss me across the field again and catch me.  It makes me feel like I’m flying.”

My stick for an arm bent lightly backward and then I powered Jamal’s huge body into the air and sent him flying across the length of the field.  He put one fist out in front of him, like Superman would, and it looked fantastic.  I waited a few seconds, just to give myself more of a challenge – knowing I could still easily beat him to the other side and be there to catch him.  And that’s exactly what I did.  Jamal’s face was just a huge grim.  He loved being tossed around.  I gave him a few beats to recover and then I tossed him even harder – up to the back row of the stadium on the other end of the field.  He flew over the still bent goal post.  I was waiting when he descended – catching his body and loving how he was laughing with glee.  I put him into one of the stadium seats – his huge body dwarfing the chair – and then climbed up on his massive legs.  I needed to worship some muscle.

“I can’t even throw a ball close to that far.  You’re amazing,” Jamal said, tensing his pecs as I started to lightly grope them. 

“It’s all for you, big guy,” I answered.  

“You make my cock so hard it feels like titanium,” the big man answered, and I felt the giant still log beneath me.  

“Mine is so hard it could puncture through titanium,” I said, smiling back at him.

“Aw fuck, that’s such a hot vision,” Jamal said, throwing his head back and closing his eyes – clearly fighting back a spontaneous explosion below.  “You’re gonna have to do that for me, sometime.”

“Bounce your massive pecs for me, man.  It turns me on so much,” I begged.  “Maybe I could lift a building sometime with just my tiny dick.  I bet that would send you through the roof, wouldn’t it, Jamal?”

“Fuck, Mouse, you can’t just blurt things out like that when my engine’s already revved to the max . . . that kind of stuff will definitely make me explode,” he gasped.  “Grab hold of those fuckers, man.”  

Beautiful mounds of hard mammoth beef rolled upwards in front of my face.  I leaned in to feel the marble-like pecs pulsate against my cheeks as they moved.  I felt like a car going through a pounding car wash.  The man was a god – his chest so muscle-packed he appeared thicker than a small building.  I pulled my head back and reached up with my small hands – trying to grab as much hard meat as I could, only succeeding because of my superstrength.  The big man moaned as I kneaded his meaty shelf vigorously.  I then latched onto his huge, jutting, cork-sized nipples.  I squeezed lightly and that was followed by a loud intake of air.  

“Pinch harder, Mighty Mouse,” Jamal said, and I immediately obeyed.  “Oh fuck, not that hard . . . ow, ow, ow!  You’re going to rip them off.  Holy hell, I can feel my nubs swelling bigger because you used so much power.  Oh yeah, that’s it . . . oh . . . yeah . . . that feels . . . so . . . good.”

At that point, I was as turned on as Jamal was.  His body could send me into sexual overdrive in mere seconds.  His bulges even had bulges that were bigger than every part of me.  His size and his incredible, massive muscles were just too much.  I simply lost control around the man.  I removed my right hand from his nipple, opened my mouth, and leaned in to clasp onto the thing like I was a starving baby going after his mom.  There are some instances that I completely forget how powerful I am . . . and all of them involved Jamal.  I suctioned onto his humongous pec like the barnacles of an octopus securing to the side of a ship . . . and then I sucked.  I sucked without thinking . . . without remembering how much power my body had.  I certainly didn’t use all of my power, luckily.  No skin was torn from the big man’s body . . . but I did cause another kind of accident.  I literally sucked the cum out of him.  The pull of my throat on his nipple brought him such orgasmic joy that his cock spewed immediately . . . like an oil rig hitting a gusher.  Jamal let out such a loud satisfied bellow it echoed throughout the stadium for what seemed like minutes.  I had always loved how sensitive my big boyfriend’s nips were, but this took playing with them to an all new level.  He dumped such a massive load of his man-honey, I was sure I could have smelled it from the other end of the stadium.  A huge virile man like Jamal produces the kind of cum that could easily populate a small country.  The man’s shorts were soon filled with what seemed to be a pool-sized amount of juice.  

“Fuck, Mouse, you nearly had my chest down your throat!  You’re just too much for this big man to handle, squirt.  I have the feeling you could suck the cum out of the face of a mountain.  With a couple of strong gulps you could empty an ocean.  My big-as-your-leg cock can’t win against that mouth of yours,” Jamal said in between deep, lung-filling breaths.  “My pec is gonna be bruised for months.”

“It’s a little love hickey from your powerful alpha,” I said in reply, smiling at the humongous muscleman.  “You make me want to lift this entire stadium.”

“Oh man, Mouse, could you do that?  Fucking hell, my balls are ready to squirt, again, just thinking about that,” Jamal exclaimed.

“Let’s freak out some high and mighty alumni by making their seats have a different view of campus next time they come to a home game.  Keep your eye on Derby Tower over there, Jamal.  Your little man is going to squat a stadium,” I said, sliding off his giant, thick-as-hell legs. 

I knew the force of the blast when I leapt into the air temporarily pinned the huge body of Jamal in his chair.  Later, he would tell me it sounded like an underground train shooting by as I punched a tunnel through the ground under the stadium.  He then said his body fell to the right as my thin arms powered up one side of the huge structure and then balanced it out by lifting the other one.  He said he just kept saying, “Fucking, no way,” over and over as Derby Tower started moving – but then he realized it wasn’t moving, but that the stadium was slowly spinning around.  Everything shook as I placed the stadium back in the ground when the tower was now standing behind where Jamal sat.  After making my way back out of my fist-pounded tunnel, I used super speed to run around the stadium and shoved or pounded uneven concrete back to something smooth.  My dirt covered, slightly sweaty unbelievably strong body was back straddling Jamal’s big legs quickly – the entire feat only taking about ten minutes.  

“This big place actually gave my arms a little resistance, big man.  I got a slight workout.  Look, my biceps is bulging a little,” I said smiling at Jamal and flexing my still thin-as-a-rail bump less arm.  

“Fucking no way!  You just picked up the entire stadium,” Jamal said, staring at me in disbelief.

“Yeah, and I used my legs to do the work, man.  You have to take care of your back . . . you know.  Lift through the legs,” I joked.

“The entire fucking stadium!  You ARE truly Mighty Mouse, aren’t you?  You’re not human.  You’re super human . . . or something.  You lifted an entire fucking stadium, dude!” Jamal said in a completely shocked state.  

“You’re my big strength junkie, aren’t you, Jamal.  How does it feel to have the most powerful boyfriend ever?” I teased.

“I bet there’s nothing you can’t do,” Jamal said.

“Well, I certainly can’t quit you, dude.  There’s no way I could do that . . . so there is something I can’t do,” I said, looking deeply into his eyes.  “Punch your Mighty Mouse hard, babe.”

This had become a game that we played on a regular basis.  Ever since I had seen Jamal get angry at his coach and he put his giant fist through a solid wooden door – barely feeling it – I had started asking him to hit me as hard as he could . . . well, as hard as he could without breaking any bones in his hands.  He loved punching me in the gut, the face, the chest, and even in – my personal favorite – the crotch.  He was awestruck by the fact that I felt nothing and I didn’t budge at all.  We’d be watching television or just hanging out and I’d ask him to use me as his punching bag – taunting him the whole time.  I could tell he always thought that this time I’d feel something . . . this time his punches would do something to me, but they never did.  Jamal always liked to role play as the alpha in our relationship when he threw his punches.

“You’ve been a bad Mouse today, squirt.  I saw you flirting with that cute guy in the cafeteria today.  Have you been sneaking around behind Jamal’s wide-as-fuck huge back, tiny man?  Yeah, I can smell another guy all over you.  I think I’m gonna have to teach you a lesson, runt,” Jamal said – getting into character, instantly.

“Bring it on, weakling,” I shot back . . . knowing it would get him riled up.  “I choose to flirt because you’re not man enough to take care of me, muscle head.  I need a real man.”

The giant fist flew fast and hard.  When it slammed into the side of my face, you would have expected to see all the bones up there to be instantly shattered and everything rearranged.  Instead, however, the trajectory of his flying hand was instantly stopped and you could hear his knuckles popping because they hit something unyielding and painful.  I could see in Jamal’s slight smile that he enjoyed the fact that his fingers hurt . . . the pain helped him to realize that his super powerful punch did nothing to me.  It barely registered that he was pounding away hard.

“What kind of sissy punch was that, Jamal?” I said, his fist still smack up against my cheek.  A big man like you should be mopping up the floor with someone my size.  What’s the matter, dude?  Didn’t you have your Wheaties this morning?  I guess all those huge muscles are just for show and you’re really just a pathetic weakling.  I’m barely the size of your forearm and I’m taking your punches like they were just feathers lightly floating onto me.  I’m going to have to find me a real man.”

Even though it was all in jest, we both got into our roles very much.  Jamal knew he – in no way – had to hold back.  He could let loose on me completely and I would emerge without even a tiny scratch.  I was indestructible even when it came to his highly destructive punches.  I’d seen the big man almost punch a guy out of the ring when he boxed with sparring partners at the gym.  He’d hit a punching bag so hard one time that it was ripped from where it was secured to the ceiling and flew across that part of the gym.  Jamal had his other hand wrapped tightly around the top of the plastic seat two places over – that’s how long his bulging arms were.  He let out a battle cry that made it clear he was fully engrossed in his role of jealous, alpha, raging boyfriend.  He ripped the seat from it’s place, bolts ripped apart as he quickly swung the thing into the other side of my head.  The flimsy plastic proved to be no match for my unmoving head and shattered to pieces as it struck.  As pieces flew away and some rained down on us, I simply smiled at Jamal, making it clear that his attack did absolutely nothing to me.  Even though it was all just a game, I could tell that it drove Jamal freaking mad that he could not make me feel anything he did.  He knew he could have taken a sledgehammer to the side of my face and the thing would have simply broken apart in his hands from hitting me.  Man, I loved toying with the huge athlete.

“You fight like a baby, big guy.  I think I’m going to have to go find me a big and strong real man who can satisfy me,” I teased, taking it all to a new level.

“You’re my fucking boy, Mouse and no one else’s,” Jamal screamed!

As he said this, he brought both of his arms back and then sent them flying into my stomach.  Fists, the size of dinner plates, slammed into my tummy with a loud smack that echoed across the stadium.  I first looked down at the big man’s balled-up hands – knuckles against my shirt – and chuckled at how I could easily absorb his two freakishly bulging arms like they were nothing.  Then, I looked up into his face and saw that the deflected punches had definitely caused him some pain . . . but, again, he enjoyed it.

“I’m nobody’s boy, Jamal, unless I say I am,” I said, moving into complete alpha mode now.  “I could easily bring down this entire stadium with a few punches and you can’t even make me feel anything but love taps when you throw those useless huge arms around.  I punch through concrete like it’s a wet paper bag, big guy.  I can thump a car with my finger and send it flying.  I toss that gorgeous, colossal, bulging body of yours around as if you were just my little stuffed teddy bear.  I could grab those enormous, juicy balls of yours right now and squeeze so hard that you’d cry and cum at the same time.  Your punches do nothing to me, Jamal.  I am Mighty Mouse and don’t you forget it.  You’re my plaything, dude, and I can do whatever I want with you.  Let’s show you what real punches can do.”

I sent my puny, super powerful fists into the chairs on either side of Jamal.  They penetrated through the plastic seat backs and easily plunged into the cement behind the chairs.  The noise was satisfyingly deafening.  Dust and cement fragments flew through the air in the silence that followed – my arms buried to my elbows in the seats and wall.  This position brought my face into the humongous, stone like, beefy pecs of my man.  I moved my fingers deep in the wall, loving how they easily tore through concrete.  Jamal clearly knew the odd sound was the abuse my hands easily doled out in the wall and it made his giant hard cock twitch between us.  I pulled back, freeing my hands – and then I wiped them across Jamal’s sweaty, fur-covered pecs, leaving streaks of dust on his body.  My eyes dared him to complain . . . both of us knowing if he did his punishment would be swift and wonderful.  But I could tell that Jamal was tired of pretending and wanted to now converse intimately.

“You make me so very happy, Mighty Mouse,” Jamal said.  “I still can’t believe that tiny body of yours lifted this entire stadium.  But, it’s punching your stomach with all of my might – something that would put any other person in the hospital or the morgue and you not feeling a thing - that gets my juices flowing the most.  I should be able to crumple you up like a piece of paper and toss you in the bin.  I’m five times the size of you and outweigh you by hundreds of pounds.  Anyone else your size I’d be able to crush like a little bug.  I make grown men much bigger than you piss themselves just by flexing or grunting.  I can intimidate a group of twenty men just by standing there.  I should be able to fold you up like a sock without a mate and tuck you away in a drawer somewhere.  I should be the one in charge . . . the alpha . . . the one giving the orders.  I’ve been the huge guy all of my life.  I’ve never lost a fight or an argument, as a matter of fact.  But now . . . I’m a kept boy.  I’m your puppy, happily trailing behind you in hopes of a pet or treat.  For the first time in my life I know what it feels like to be weak.  I now understand how limited my power is.  I am now like a school child in love.  I’m desperate for your attention.  I constantly yearn for you to show me your strength . . . preferably with out bodies touching.  I crave you every second of the day.”

“I may have the strength of thousands of men, Jamal, but all of that means nothing without you.  For most of my college life, I’ve had a box under my bed full of pictures of you – from newspapers, printed off the internet, and some taken right here on campus.  Those pictures have been the fuel for the private sessions with my right hand multiple times a day . . . every day.  The Seven Wonders of the World pale in comparison to your beauty, Jamal.  I crave muscle . . . plain and simple.  And you have enough muscle to last a lifetime and then some.  When I see you flex, I feel like moving mountains.  When I caress your bulges I want to lift stadiums.  When I plow your ass I want to have meteorites hit me in the chest and explode into starry dust.  I’m your Mighty Mouse, Jamal.  No one else’s.  Ever.  I feel that my superstrength was given merely so I could please you.  Making every one of your huge bulging muscles happy for the rest of your life is all I want to do.  I’d take on the world for you, Jamal,” I said, making sure he knew I meant every word.
 

[Strengthlover]

Londonboy this is epic! Totally hot! 

[NerdJock]

On 11/11/2021 at 5:20 AM, SupermanFan79 said:

Londonboy this is epic! Totally hot! 

I second that!!!!