m/m/f Surprise! (Part IV added May 11th)

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Joe's Perspective

I fell in to this line of work quite innocently. I mean, I'm not innocent nor devoid of what's called "a past" but I didn't seek out turning tricks. I'm good at it. That's probably what sent me down this path. One after another lover, one night stand and boyfriend told me I could charge. So did the women. It's not just the size of my cock - ample, extremely hard and bulbous when I am visually stimulated - but as a former dancer, I can move my hips in ways many others only admire. And stamina...that was my nickname amongst a tight group of swingers I enjoyed through college.

I'm Joe. I'm a gigolo. I'm bisexual. I'm doing well for myself.

In my early thirties, I'm just a year or three into playing with a pretty exclusive clientele. I have a handler that watches my back, checks out the Johns and takes a chunk. But I'm worth a lot, so it is of no consequence to share a cut. What he does is useful. Being relatively fresh in the game - I'm still desirous to many, a regular repeat to some and experienced by enough. I've learned how to read a client, man or woman. I can make them crazy with the heat, as it were, no matter their base tastes or unique fetishes. I qualify as a stud to anyone that likes orgasms.

True, dark brunette Superman curl hair with that all-so-playable length that tousles perfectly as I command and looks excellent wherever it lands. It can't ever look dirty it's so healthy. The kind of thickness that belies my age and will never thin.A face that is handsome, but not devastating. Kind eyes that I use to kill, which is ironic. I have a deep, five o'clock shadow by noon, but look baby smooth right after shaving. You feel like you can look at me and admire without having to be jealous. Really, despite my incredible body, this face is my secret weapon.

I've worked hard for a competition level physique. I maintain a degree of strength that surpasses even the size of my muscles. My pecs are perfectly hairy, though trimmed to model status. They are full, jut, and feel pillowy when relaxed but change species and show every striation when I flex. They bunch, practically growl, roll bottom to top and all but pull up the surface of my midsection. That core has all the trimmings...eight cobblestones, obliques before a crunch, a beautiful little outie and the belt Adonis bequeathed me when he died. Arm with all three heads in the triceps and both heads in the biceps. If one can see that clearly with the slightest flex - I don't need to describe any more. I'm clearly strong but apparently agile and capable. Rather than arms that are over built and definition-less, they are arms of work and talent and so, so usable. Many a John has blown in the crook of the biceps and forearm and many a Jane has been slightly penetrated by the flexed peak while I lift her, flex into her and let her ride to bliss. 

Suffice it to say I have wheels to match. All of it. Great hair pattern and length, no skimping on muscle, but really more of rugby size than no fat. Large feet, but not ridiculous. Obviously, an ass that not only has seen a squat rack, but makes it my bitch with sometimes hours of pounding. I found, long ago, that nothing takes my stress away like sweaty hours in the squat rack until sweat runs rivulets down my troughed back into the deep cavern said squats are creating by building mounds of ass. You might not believe more women than men get in that ass. They LOVE it. I oblige. Most men hire me as top because of my clear alpha look. Truth is - - I like everything. Anything that gives pleasure is in my toolbox. I use all the tools and enjoy them all. Variety is one of the things that drew me into this world. As much as I like to receive pleasure, I relish giving it. Nothing makes my civilian life happier than knowing that after a solid glance with a nod or wink, a slight flex or bounce, a hearty laugh in a crowd or a moment to bend over or push my curls back that several people in any group use me as masturbation fodder that night. Some, even sooner in a stall. Delights me. Use me, I say.

John's Perspective

The craving has been building for months. I want a man. A big man. One who knows he is stunning, but is kind about it. One who could crush most anyone. One who knows his way around the male anatomy. Despite searching in the usual places, I'm failing at achieving a moment with a stud. It is hard for me to attract a man. There are barriers most men don't experience. Even as I've gotten a few men to commit to time in the sack with me, it is usually brief. I'm interested in several turns. I want to give and receive. I want to be manhandled. I NEED to be manhandled. 

After faltering so many times in the past year, I'm ready to take the plunge. Spend some big bucks on a professional. I'm willing to shell out for a great experience. I have saved a specific sum to do so. It has taken time to find the right man. And now that I've seen him, I can hardly breathe thinking about - - imagining what we might do together. I'm building up quite the expectation level based on his reviews, some inside information and those God damned pictures floating around of him. Joe. God...yum.

Professional black and white head shots showing a face you want to have rather than just look at. A face that can sell anything from cologne (and you KNOW how chiseled those mugs have to be) to flannel draped paper towels. Lips and mouth that ask for a kiss. Ears that are perfectly grabbable from under a mane of hair that is all at once styled and free. I've seen him bearded. Perfectly so. No space, but so smooth when shaved. 

Colorful, full motion shots from athletic endeavors. Rather than the standard workout pics, or even more mundane, the pic in the mirror after the workout, Joe has multiple photos of him in action in varying sports. Always appropriately clothed. Always filling those fucking clothes to the brim without looking like they bought a kit way too small to show off. He's just a lot of man. I'm a sports junkie and I'm telling you he looks like he knows what he's doing in every shot. A powerful swing of a golf club with a twist clearly driving the ball while his polo just sticks to everything. A big leap from the floor with huge Jordans, legs too thick for ball and a jersey that rides up to show a lower torso that appears photo shopped and arms reaching the ball to the rim exposing these dark, deep, muscle surrounded pits that are only overshadowed when you realize he's near the rim and not that far from the ground. And he is going to stuff it in that hole! Damn. 

You know - those kinds of sports shots. Eye candy. 

He wears his fucking clothes, too. They always look good enough to buy because you believe they'll look as good on you. Picture after picture.

But I can't find video of him. He must be very careful about that. And I haven't seen a single shirtless pic. Nothing gratuitous, really. For a quick second I wonder if he is maybe not equipped for a weekend like I'm planning. He has to be willing to reciprocate completely. He has to be ready to pitch and catch. Oh - did I mention his ass in the baseball pics? 

What if the lack of this kind of evidence means he can't make me believe he wants me? I need him to make me believe he wants me. 

Joe's Preparation

My handler has secured a lucrative weekend for me. I'm to arrive midday Friday at a popular and expensive resort on the outer banks of Carolina. Strange place for a higher priced meeting. The closeted red, middle coastal states don't exactly welcome free sexual expression and though there are boys there with some of my height and a little of my strength, I haven't seen one that isn't just there for school from out of state that is anywhere close to the shape I'm in. I'll stand out for sure. But that just gave me a semi. I make myself fully available to the gentleman, who requires the promise of privacy by remaining device free until Monday morning. That's a L O N G time and I hope he is playful and fun. The rich usually have a lower chance of that. But I always rock their world.

I feel like I'm sounding super cocky. Ha - I just said cock. I can actually be very youthful and silly, too. Rather than cocky, I am confident and powerful in my self. That includes being able to take a step back and give others the lead. I've been told to be prepared for a surprise. This gentleman doesn't have the regular physical abilities of others and I have strict instructions to treat him like every other person and not acknowledge his limitations. I've actually been in similar situations and I'm sure I can handle it well.

I've been asked to pack for a round of golf, time by the pool, time at the beach, nice dinner out and to bring workout clothes. Specific mention of no pajamas, which is adorable. I plan to arrive having shaved on the plane so I'm smooth and ready and freshly scrubbed from a morning HIIT workout that will make all my muscles and veins standout. Those workouts also make me very horny. I'll be ready.

John's Preparation

I've decided to meet Joe at a hotel resort about thirty minutes from where I live. I've never hired for a weekend. I'm really blowing a wad for him and hope to blow many more, as it were. I dream of his huge arms around me. I dream of my face close to his. I imagine his breath sweet. I want those eyes locked on mine, though from my seated position he'll have to angle. I want him to touch me everywhere, even where I might not feel it. I want him to undress me because he wants to undress me. I'll need his help, of course, too. My friends tell me not to get my hopes up. I only have a couple of close friends since my situation is off-putting to many. Folks just get uncomfortable when they don't understand what life is like. They gawk, they turn away when I look at them, they whisper. And it has happened for as long as I can remember. 

But this weekend promises to be my escape. It WILL be great because I'm determined for it to be so. Hopefully the money will help Joe comply with all my wishes. Perhaps the awkwardness will not touch us because of our arrangement. I want it to feel authentic. It's really time for something to feel authentic...

Even if it isn't. 



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I love stories with different perspectives.  Of course I want more!

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Love it! Keep going!

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Part 2

Joe's Surprise

I used my early morning well. Have always been an early riser, but I left my morning wood so my John could enjoy later. I also get up before dawn. I went for a run, which always astounds folks I pass on our trail. My size implies I don't/can't run, but I love the way it fills my lungs with the cool morning air. I believe it does my skin wonders to be exposed to the elements as long as it is above freezing. My huge pecs heave and bounce and most runners completely stop to watch. As I get close to each admirer, I often flex out half a crab pose to thrill them or run a hand down my torso. I wear shorty shorts that leave nothing to the imagination In fact - after one morning run I received a booking from a particular lady that begged me to impregnate her in the middle of our session. Based on what my handler has them all sign - I grunted out, "Sure," and she screamed as she creamed and I backed off the end of the bed, pulling her with me, stood up with her on my stick and gave her the DNA she wanted in just one thrust. I pushed her down from the shoulders hard and just held her there, like when deeply face fucking. I just flexed my cock and she came again. As she fell back on the bed after we were spent, I gave her the exact same half crab pose and walked away. I didn't even ask what else she wanted for our time because I knew from practice she wanted me to abandon her after I was pleasured. But - that's off topic, isn't it?

I went for my run, only saw one man that I often see. He has taken to jumping into the brush, dropping his pants and just flat off jacking as I run by. Again - I don't mind at all. I pretended not to notice and did a few air punches with a slower gait so he could watch everything tense. I came back and decided to pump out some squats to plump my ass. I had a few extra minutes to I loaded up three plates for a 315 bench press until failure, but I ran our of time. The clock in my head said I needed to hang it up and get ready. After a fast shower, (I only spend a long time in the shower with a guest) I did a great, close shave and trimmed the chest and abs just a notch. Still longer hair than some lawn-manicured model - but less unruly. My head of locks had mostly air dried and I decided to skip the product and just spat in my hand and brushed it back. That kind of turned me on, so I spat in my hand again and rubbed it into my bush. I decided one last measure of spit would feel good and I lubed my middle finger with my mouth and reached around. I'd cleaned up well in preparation for the day and needed a taste of that fine ass. I stuck that finger in slowly and powerfully, gave a bit of a twirl and came up on my toes and pulled it out. God, this was going to be a good weekend. I had the vibes going for sure.

I dressed as directed for our first activity. John wanted me to arrive in my smartest golf attire. I had acquired a bright red, thin and whisking XXL polo top. It would be tight on me, but it should be perfect. I had hoped to button it to the neck, but I just couldn't get the top button to close without it looking ridiculous. My pillared neck wasn't having it. I did love how that open button made the collar run exactly perpendicular to my traps, which accentuating them immensely. I dabbed some cologne right in that beautiful spot where the front side of the traps, a powerful neck and perfect clavicles make a fucking cave on a man like me. I also rubbed across that tiny bit of chest hair one could see. I skipped the deodorant because no one can beat my musk. Plus, I don't really sweat unless I want to. I know - when God gives...

I tucked that shirt into a pair of navy shorts. Nice and long, practically to the knee. Besides my thighs fighting the material and showing their size, I love seeing the teardrop of great quads on display at the knee. Moving down from there, the perfect, and not over sized calves covered with stunning fur that ran with the leg instead of sticking out all over and a skin tone that looks neither fake tanned, nor traditionally olive and yet clearly sun loved just completed me. I added short white socks and white size 14 shoes (a little tight but all I had) and I was the picture of an All-American Athlete, though more like a toned rugby eight than a golfer. 

The rest of my items packed, I went to the private airport for the 90 minute flight to Carolina. The attendant begged to suck me and I promised him he could...on the way home. I belonged to John now. And I was prepared to please him, whatever kind of man I was about to encounter.

As I stepped off the plane, a golf cart was nearby to whisk me away to the course where I'd meet John. As we pulled up to the clubhouse, it didn't look too active. As my driver handed me a pair of balls, "to play with today, sir" (and that had his phone number on one - - ha) he mentioned John was waiting inside and wanted me to rush in as the flight had been a little late.

I decided to start showing off my obedience to his requests right then. He had expressly asked me for four things:

1 - call him John, because that was actually his name

2 - suggest things for us to participate in both in public and in private as though we were boyfriends (equal time and equal input)

3 - be prepared to flip fuck as that is his dream - to flip fuck with the biggest, strongest stud on the East coast

4 - NO MATTER WHAT! Do NOT make mention of his physical situation. Regardless of what was encountered, act as though he is a standard, capable man

I was going to run into that clubhouse and greet him with a hug and kiss, a grin and a wink as we stayed close for a moment and a thanks for the invite today, insist on buying him a mojito for the round and then walk away to the bar flashing my ass with a lean into the bar and then flirt the fuck out of the bartender, male or female, while not looking back even once. That should start the blood pumping.

I rounded the corner and nearly ran through the open french doors all at once wondering how I'd know it was him (I was guessing perhaps a wheelchair, surely an older man) and hoped I wouldn't approach the wrong du...

Oh, my God. 


John's Surprise

I am delighted to see Joe looks even taller in person. From my seated position - I always meet people sitting - he looked six three, perhaps. I love when a tall boy can fill out his frame with tissue. It is even better when it isn't a linebacker build and is more wrestler or even baseball player. This is a specimen! He is exactly what I wanted, but a bit more mature-looking, comfortable in himself, confident and playful, jacked (I mean, look at those muscles so TAUGHT while he stands a bit frozen there) and youthful than I expected. To my great surprise, after one glance around to ensure I must be his date, and with only the tiniest of glint in his eye that I wasn't just his average John, he ran over to me and reached out a thick skinned, strong hand.

As a second surprise, he grabbed my hand at an angle, the way you do to help someone up and he immediately began to pull. I decided to let him as I was happy he started with taking the lead.

He pulled me up, looked up at me, straight in the eye and said, "Thanks for the invite today, John."

He wrapped his free left arm around me and kept the right hand between us as he gave a sportsman-like pat pat greeting, not lingering in the least. He then pulled back only enough to bring that left hand up behind my head and he pulled me in for an electric kiss. A pressing of the lips where both heads then created just enough space for him to open a little and drag both lips lightly across mine and lightly catch just my lower lip. He leaned back, looked me in the eye again and said, "I've been looking forward to this for days...big guy." 

He returned for a bit more kiss, just a peck, really, but I'm sure his waist pressed into mine. That pleased me. He felt it, I think. The 'big guy' comment was really the only moment he gave the tiniest nod to my absolute physical superiority I had over him in every way. I am taller, bigger and surely stronger than poor Joe. I have struggled for years to get someone to experience me as an equal, because I have none. So even if it isn't real, I'm hoping Joe can make me feel that way rather than a giant freak of nature. 

Joe gave me a little push to indicate he wanted me back in my chair. I didn't move because I hadn't been prepared to give in. He just grinned and rallied and shoved me and I let him seat me. He declared he was going to get us mojitos for our round of golf and turned to strut off to the bar. I'm sure that ass leaving usually made men chase him. I was pretty sure that isn't what he wanted. Here would be the true test about Joe treating me as a regular man and date. The back of the bar had plenty of mirror for him to sneak a glance or two at me. For him to show shock and awe, or maybe fear or even excitement while he had his back to me. I watched him closely in the mirror. This was the wind up - would the pitch be a strike or would he hit it out of the park.

He flirted with Shandra hard. Complimenting her hair, asking if her boyfriend liked getting free drinks at a swanky place like this. When she declared she had none, he suggested that was a shame and stated that if he wasn't here with me, he'd be taking her to dinner when she gets off. She replied that she didn't really like muscly guys, no offense, though she was obviously ogling his spectacular arms crossed on the bar. As she made the mojitos, they flirted more with him pointing out the tone in her arms from tending as she shook one drink. She declared her arms weren't half as nice as his. He put his arm out on the bar like he was going to arm wrestle and said, "why don't you try them out if you like them?"

She reached over and gave a giggly touch and he made his biceps pop. "Look what you do to me, Shandra," he said, reading her name tag. He was smooth.

Before long, she was done, he paid her in cash and he turned away from her to me and approached like he neither had a care in the world except a round of golf with a friend, nor that his friend was the largest beast of a man he had ever imagined. Let alone seen.

He passed. Not one glance in the mirror. Not one drop in confidence. Not one indication that I was impressive. He just wanted to be with me, not my body. Just...me.

I was as surprised as he. 

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Thank you.  And, of course, I can't wait for more.  :)

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8 hours ago, londonboy said:

Thank you.  And, of course, I can't wait for more.  :)

Most definitely want more.

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Wow, cool surprise!  And Joe is handling it excellently.  I'm jealous of Shandra.  Let's see what happens now. 

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Part 3

John's P.O.V.

Joe fisted the drinks which made the glasses look small - not lost on me. He started back and before a full turn or step, returned the glasses to the counter and exclaimed, "I didn't tip you, Shandra!" He stepped around the end of the bar to the little, swinging half-door and placed his hands on it, flexing his torso hard. He gave her a glance of the goods and nodded his head for her to step over. He leaned in, making that shirt work to contain him and gave her a little kiss. She returned it closed mouthed, approving of the flirt and wrapping her arms around his neck. It was the perfect length for a flirt - over a second, less than two. She smiled at him and pulled her arms away dragging her hands down his arms as she did. She looked at me with a, 'thanks' in her upturned lips.

Joe took the drinks again and before moving a step, locked my eyes. He looked at me and tossed his head to push his hair back, blowing a curl off his forehead. He used his eyes to make me look down to his pecs and, swear to God, he bounced them a few times and then looked up at me like a little kid sharing his favorite toy. He gave me a 'you like that' eyebrow raise and crunched the pecs hard once together and came toward me swiftly.

He handed me a drink, clinked the glasses before I knew what was happening and toasted, "To an incredible weekend." He swallowed a gulp and said, "big guys don't use straws," and popped his pecs again. I replied with a slightly raised glass to the toast and took a draw on the straw. He laughed and leaned close, put one hand behind my head and pulled me close for another kiss. As our lips met, I realized he had literally pulled me head toward him with one hand. No man moves any part of me without my assistance, or at least allowance. His kiss was basically part of his toast, but the way my body had reacted wasn't as casual as all that.

He turned, used his ass to tell me to follow him and he walked right out the door.

Joe's P.O.V.

'Holy Fuck,' I thought as I rounded the corner out of sight of the BIGGEST SINGLE SPECIMEN of man I've every imagined, let alone laid eyes on. All at once I doubled over to take a few big breaths - - stared out into the distance and pulled myself together. John very much wanted me to not acknowledge his clear superiority. He wanted to be taken by a man that was superior to all other beings. He wanted a flip out of me. By damn, I was up for every part of the challenge.

I heard John's chair move on the wooden floor. God, how tall is he actually? I don't think I noticed. I know I had to look up, and I'm 6'3". 

As he came around the corner toward me, I started for the carts and said, "Which two are we taking? My shoulders are to wide to share with another man. Hell, even my California king at home only works with a twink if he's all over me." I didn't wait for an answer because only two carts where close. I took the back one. "I'm best in back," came out of me with a straight face.

He got in the first cart with more grace than I expected. As I watched that cart sink into the fucking turf, I surmised he must be at least a few inches taller and couldn't be under 350 pounds of clearly useful muscle. I knew, because my dense build was 285 which usually blows any man's mind. He led us to the first tee, got out without a word, selected a club while checking me out some. I was busy looking at the scorecard and familiarizing myself with the cart. He bent with the traditional one leg in the air, no loss of balance and gently pushed the tree into the ground, stepped back, swung through two good practice swings and then pulverized the shell off that ball with a swing so hard and fast I didn't really follow.

John's P.O.V.

I got back in my cart without any commentary and Joe stepped up. I shouldn't have swung so hard - it was actually a little mean. But then again, I realized I did it naturally out of a desire to show him I was worthy. I don't know that I've ever done that subconsciously because I've never felt unable to beat any man at anything including creating desire. His ploys might be getting in my head a little. He did some good, quick stretches specific to the game, indicating he was no fake, and gave the ball a nice drive.

We spent the front nine sharing stories, talking about favorite music, where we'd gone to school and our introductions to golf. He never once asked 'how I got this big' or tipped his hand. We actually shared a lot of favorite things, went to school in the same conference, though me probably a little more than a decade earlier and then he took the topic to food. He was a foodie! That was a lot of our conversation. At one point, I doubted a little and thought, 'does he even like any of the shit he's talking about, or is it all to get me?' Either way, it was enjoyable.

We pulled up to the clubhouse midway through and he pulled right up beside me and jumped from his cart to mine. He again took my neck, said, "Great game," and pulled me in for a third kiss. This time, I nearly leaned too far as it was exciting not taking the lead and not being kissed only as a precursor to touching my body. He rolled his fingers a little in my hair and used the lightest touch of tongue. Just as I thought he would break because we were in public, he reached across and moved my hand to his thigh, closer to the crotch than the knee. I felt the hairy muscle and he tensed that shit for me. As we lightly tongued and adjusted head position he was giving me a flex show with that leg. And then - he reversed and stated, "Little Joey needs release." He leapt from the cart, which shook when his bulk pushed against it for leverage and headed for the bathroom. "We'll drain him and get another drink." He looked back and said, "I'm headed to the John."

He turned back and said, "Are you just going to sit there working through the three double-entendres I dropped," and jogged off knowing I'd follow.


Inside the bathroom, John took up a urinal next to me. This was an older style bathroom with no partition. I made sure he could see my member and I didn't even glance at his. I got there first, I finished first. I stepped up behind the man and though I had to tiptoe, I wrapped one big arm around him (as far as I could) and pulled him back against me while his dick was still out, but only dripping. I took an earlobe in my teeth and placed my still exposed cock into his pants. I huffed a little in his ear and flexed my arm hard. No way he didn't feel that meat turn stoney. I used my free hand to reach up and stroke his face with the back of my hand and then pushed his forehead so his skull would rest on my waiting shoulder. In this position I whispered, "Let's skip he back nine for mine."

"You're packing a nine?" he asked softly?

I put the tip of my tongue in his ear, moaned a, "Yes" and grabbed his ass with the free hand while jerking back on his torso into me again to show power. I squeezed really hard again, ground my cock into him a touch more and added, "if you round down."

Hardly seen anyone with a faster time zipping, washing and grabbing my hand to lead me from the restroom. But I wasn't done yet.

Right as he pulled the door open with an 'I always get what I want,' movement. I reached past him and slammed it shut and used all my force to spin him around before he knew what was happening. I used two hands on his pecs and he reflexively contracted them and that almost took me out. In milliseconds I was shoving two rocks bigger than my ENTIRE HAND span away from me toward the door. I'm pretty sure he let me or I wouldn't have been able. I pressed against him, grabbed a telephone pole leg and scooped it up with all my might, acting like it was easy, the way you do with a girl in the movies, so his inner thigh was against my outer. The thing was so big it slipped from my grip and raced for the ground as gravity didn't want to let such a great thing go and I determinedly reached down and tried again, succeeding. I used the other hand to wrap around his neck - - well, it was on the front of his neck...shit, this is a massive mother fucker...and turned his head away to lick up his neck, nibble across his face, turn him to me and say, "Since I'm the clear Alpha here, you'll do as I say. And I DON'T flip fuck for anybody. I just fuck."

I backed up, looked at my arms and brought them into a magnificent double biceps. Two heads per arm, baby. 

He blew out some air with a combined 'wow' and 'phew' and he opened the door for me and stepped aside to hold it. "Yes, sir," he stated in a low tone.

"Take me to your place, John."


(edging is my favorite reading practice - - but for those that want the singular action - - part IV should not disappoint)  


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Part 4

John Gets His Wish

After that God damned stud Joe shoved me against the door, I decided to unleash. I'd been waiting my adult life for this. He flared his lats and that polo just stretched to the max and he pulled those arms up into a double biceps unlike I've ever seen outside my own mirror. One's own body is not as hot as another's. Ever. You know about what you are about to do, so there is no surprise, and the unknown interaction is what elevates sex.Let me relate my experience with the best intercourse of my life.

I opened the door for Joe and stepped aside.

He worked hard to impress on the drive back to my beachfront property. He continued to flirt and he kept making sure to angle so I could see muscle. Along the way we had to go through the gate into my community. I don't actually live here, just vacation here, so folks don't know me. I only opened my very tinted window of the Hummer just enough to pass through a badge. The juiced up guard - seriously, he looked bloated and ridiculous but clearly thought this gave him all sorts of license in life - was an ass about it being the old style. I apologized and said I didn't know and could he let us in. He got smart and after a few exchanges he told me to get my ass out of the truck.

Like a flash, Joe's door opened and he started around the back of the Hummer. The guard yelled for my passenger to get back in the truck or there'd be trouble. Joe rounded the corner and I was blessed by a widening of the guard's eyes that could have let his eyeballs fall out of the sockets. I watched in the mirror where Joe had made sure he could be seen. He asked "Bubba" if he wanted help with opening the "fucking gate," or if he'd prefer Joe use his lever to pry it open. 

The guard came to and talked smack as he backed up. Joe just came at him and not slowly or even quickly, just deliberately. He got next to my window and apologized I'd have to see this. The guard told him to fuck off and Joe just took both hands to his polo at the neck and pulled that shirt apart. Again, with deliberation. He didn't need high speed to get it started and it didn't not come apart at the bottom like so many shirt rip videos because the guys aren't man enough. He pulled that entire shirt open. He ran one hand down it all as he looked at himself. Then he reached over and did the exact same thing to the guards uniform polo. It was mesmerizing. I've never seen someone just take another man's shirt and rip it open all the way down. He grabbed Bubba around the neck and turned the two of us towards me and asked, "Who is gonna win this fight do you think, john?"

I just closed my window and put the truck into drive. Joe pulled the man closer and told him to open the gate and, once release, he did so quickly. I noticed his hard on. His tiny hard on. I also noticed Joe was thickening to fill his pants a touch. He came around, got in and we moved on. 

When we got to the house, Joe was out in a flash and came around just as I touched feet to pavement. He stepped close and said, "I can't wait," and pushed me back into the seat with my legs out the door. He wiggled between my thighs and grabbed my head with both hands. He slammed my face into his waiting pecs and immediately bounced them for me, or maybe better described as 'at' me. He was rough. He pulled my face back and forth and moaned something about a real man's tits and flexed and rubbed my nose and mouth across that pair of jutting masses of tissue. It was wonderful to feel the difference between the hardened and relaxed versions. I brought my hands up to his shoulders and he let go of my head, pulled back and slapped my hands away. 

"You don't touch unless I fucking tell you you can touch, you got that?"

I humphed a positive reply.

"What was that?"


"Yes, what?"

"You can't make me say it."

The game was ON! He flared and grabbed my arm and I let him wrench me from the truck and spin me around. He slammed me against the Hummer and the shit moved a bit in the gravel, I kid you not. He thrust his crotch into my ass and pressed hard against my body with his with my arm twisted behind my back. He was fast, and strong, and out to win. He used his other forearm to press my face against the glass using the back of me head. I offered resistance and he just re-positioned and thrust every contact point again.He really ground that forearm into the back of my head and ratcheted the arm behind my back. He knew what he was doing.


I used my free arm to push off the truck and send us both flying towards the grass. I didn't quite land on him as he turned to avoid the load. I had expected to fall on him so when he let go of me and twisted away I kind of fell hard and without control. I umphed as I hit the ground and he was on top of me. He used his knees around my torso, though they barely reached the ground as he was atop me. He took one hand to my neck and used his forearm again on my temple to turn my head and push it into the earth. He squeezed with all his might in his thighs, I think. I was kind of giggling the way you do when play fighting and immediately said, "Ok, Ok stud - you got me."

"Stud ISN'T what I was looking for. Show proper respect for the man that just took you down."

"Yes, sir," I offered without hesitation.

He planted his arms on my biceps and threw his legs back to plank and lifted himself off of me. I kept my arms soft and I could tell his balance wasn't as sure as the globes I have for upper arms - well, the front of my upper arms - wasn't the flat surface he usually planked on. He lowered himself to my mouth and said, "That's more like it," and kissed me. He began to pump out push ups. He'd kiss me about every two or three. It was clear he wasn't just going to do ten or twenty as he really got going. "I need to pump up for my Johnboy," he declared around thirty reps. He kept kissing me a little longer after every few reps. 

All of a sudden he stopped, looked down between us and back at me with a face of electric thrill. "Well, well, John. Looks like you are quite turned on by my warm up. I just bumped into a little stiffie in your pants rising up to greet me. I like that, boy."

He plank-walked himself down to where his mouth could chew on me through my pants. He almost bit he was so enthusiastic. He said aloud how much he likes cock and gave me stiffie more reason to live. I really wanted him to take it out of my pants. I reached down to do so and he swatted me away and then swatted my dick. "Who's in charge, John?"

"You are, sir." And he returned to chewing through my pants. He moved to his knees and started to open my button and slid the zipper just a tad. I adjusted so I could lift my hips and let him take my pants down and he abandoned the area all too quickly. I was ready for him to put me in his mouth right then and he just stopped.

He moved beside me and said, "Roll over and lay on my back."

"Joe, you are sweet as hell and clearly a beast of a man, but I don't th..."

He slapped me hard, "Shut the fuck up pansy and get the fuck on my back!" He took up a push up position.

I tried one more time to protest about my size and he broke and just looked down and said, "You're right. This probably won't work."

I was devastated. His shows of strength, though no match for me, his willingness and work to ignore my size and muscles, his aggressive attempt at 'man-handling me' as i asked were crashing right here on the lawn. I had hoped for too much. 

We looked at each other for a moment. My face started to fall. He looked somewhat nervous and unsure like he was worried he'd loose the whole weekend gig. I was about to tell him I'd pay him anyway when he started to come upright to face me. 

"You're right, big guy. My tattered shirt will probably just get in the way." He locked my eyes again and beamed at having won another battle. He painstakingly removed his shirt down his arms. He got one over his swollen biceps and pretended like the other wouldn't come down. It made for an impressive triceps pose when he turned, flexed hard and proclaimed he couldn't get the shirt down. I obliged to help him with a renewed enthusiasm. For the first time, I really touched him muscle. It was fire. It was lava. It was rock. It was smooth. It was undulating. It was big. It was so, so hard in that flex. I explored the arm and he watched me and flexed each little spot at the right time. I used my whole hand and then switched to just a fingertip. He flexed his triceps and then changed to forearms as my hand moved. We slide that last sleeve off his torso and he presented his upper body by coming up on his knees. I met him and began to explore.

We danced, really, between muscle groups. We fell silent. He sensed I wanted to discover without commentary or belittling. Firstly, I grabbed his traps and he dropped his arms straight down and relaxed everything. I followed the shape of them over his shoulders and down his back a bit. I could recognize them as separate from other parts of his upper back. Even unflexed. I came back around the delts. A man with true rear, side and front delts. I marveled at this and rounded those melons a few times. I am a sucker for great delts. Shoulders make the man and Joe was a MAN. I moved down his arms and enjoyed the bottom of the shoulder tissue coming back in to meet those upper arms. So much meat just hanging there. As I squeezed, it felt like miles of muscles ready to be commanded...like there wasn't even bone down in there. There was SO much muscle I couldn't squeeze down to the bone. I moved down his forearms which were true bowling pins and put his hands in mine and brought them to my mouth to kiss them as I looked him in the eye. He tilted his head and smiled, appreciating the admiration. After a moment, he looked down at his chest.

I let his hands go and I started with the backs of my hands at his belt line instead. I just glanced along his abs on my way up to his pecs. This must have tickled a little because he tensed his eight pack though he'd kept the rest of himself loose. I came up to the bottom of his pec shelf and ran my fingers along that crevice. It was long and very defined. Had to have been two honest inches of lower pec just there, separated from his abs. I caught his nipples between my first and middle fingers, back of my hands still touching him and used my thumbs to flick just once or twice. He bit his lip and his eyes fluttered. Then I just flipped my hands around and cupped those mounds with my whole hands. "Jesus, those are the best pectorals I've ever had my hands on. Sir," I added. 

"Let's pump them up." He then laid back down and did not even look at me. He expected me to climb on his back. 

I was so concerned this wouldn't work - but I was also willing to give him the chance, so I laid down on him. I put my legs and feet out beyond his in case that leverage would help.

I was nearly catapulted up before I knew what to do and, being both shocked and awed, I just reached around him and grabbed two handfuls of chest so I didn't get bucked off as we immediately went down and up again. And again.

He wasn't just going to do a few, struggling push ups with me on his back - - he was going to pump out reps. And he was doing it! I was giddy. I've never been on a man's back for push ups. I couldn't believe his power and I started to melt into his back. 

He stopped after ten and I thought that was impressive. Instead, he made two requests. One, for me to remove my shirt as the skin to skin contact turns him on. I did so and he didn't even try to sneak a peek! Two, for me to put my feet on his and align my legs so my full weight was on him.

No sooner had i done this and we were off to the races again! I felt kind of like a kid that just gets scooped up by an older brother or father figure. I wasn't in control of my mass and I was not a detriment to his task. It was exhilarating to feel his body work. He asked me how many more he should do because he could do it 'all day,' which was a fun lie - I could tell he was tiring fast. 

"Will you please do five more for me, sir, nice and slowly?"

He did and I counted them aloud.

He took just a moment to recover and then asked me to do just one lowsy push up during which we rolled over under me. He was fatigued for sure, but he kept his demeanor at attention - as was his cock! I knew because they collided. We both looked toward the turgid sticks vying for similar space and kind of grinned like school boys. He said he liked it and I agreed - adding sir for him.

"Now, explore this body with a pump!"

I did. I couldn't go anywhere but that chest! It was glistening in the sun. It was full of blood and effort. Muscle fibers were showing as he lightly flexed a roll from the bottom to the top. He had great control. He mounded them hard and tight and I started with my tongue in the crevice between the mountains. I decided to only show appreciation with my mouth. I chewed and kissed and licked my way across to a nipple, circled it wih my tongue and then left it wanting me. I liked that great line along the bottom of his shelf. So few men achieve that ridge and I went completely from right to left as he kept taught for me. 

I moved down and kissed each brick one at a time with the lightest pressure then started where pecs meet and become abs and drug the bottom of my tongue all the way down between his stunningly symmetrical muscle gut. He pulled his abdominal wall away from my mouth with a vacuum pose like I'd never seen. As I admired it for a moment and then began to put my head way down below his rib cage, he flexed hard and brought it back to bear on my face! It actually stung and little and he puffed out a laugh of air and I reached up and rubbed my nose. I kept my eyes on his from that moment. 

I brought both of my hands up to rub his obliques and then came down to his Adonis belt. That spot where torso becomes bulged upper leg makes me weak. I moved to undo his pants, hoping he'd let me and he just nodded approval and brought his hands up behind his head so we could look over his chest-icals at me. I froze mid-zipper just staring at those biceps bunched beside his head. They were nearly equal in size and he could bounce them there. It was SO hot. I've never been able to relax my arms enough to do that, so watching him bounce head-sized, split biceps was intoxicating. After a full minute or two, he quit and indicated I shouldn't stop.

I shook my head to clear it and said, "Yes, sir," and got his pants down and decided not to stop. I took them completely off. I no longer cared if the few neighbors windows that could see into my yard might have a person at them. We were doing this - - right here. Once I freed his cock I watched it closely. It was very large, but not comically so nor enhanced artificially. It was just lots of man. I remarked how it matched his physique and it began to rise even more. It had been laying full, but not hard, to the side, tip almost flopping past the thigh and starting to droop down. 

"Compliment my body. Tell me what you see."

As I did so, his dick would thicken and lift. I described much of what I've seen and got him to full attention. I put my mouth over the head and had just started to slide down a touch, intending to be slow and teasing when two hands hit the back of my head and, combined with a raised ass, pounded the cock all the way in. I gagged and pulled back and he just clenched on me and really forced that dick in my throat within an inch of violence.

He let go of my head and said, "Yeah - good bitch." I stayed close because I wasn't sure what to think and he took advantage and grabbed again and forced me down. This time I was ready and though I let him start a face fucking, I was in control. Over the course a couple of minutes he moved positions, grabbed me and really got his pubes in my nose a few times. He stood and made me take it hard. He used my ears a few times because I couldn't just pull back if he had ahold of them because it would hurt. He was really getting aggressive. A few times he'd pull my head back and tell me to open and he'd spit in my mouth. He pounded my skull until I wasn't sure I liked it. Just when I was ready to tell him to stop, he suddenly did.

I was on my knees and he pulled his dick out of my mouth and told me to worship the rest of my body. I reached up to his massive, heaving chest which was heaving with effort and excitement and he slapped me again. I'm not sure this is what I was planning on. He stuck a foot out and said, "Boys start with the feet."

I moved to kiss and worship his feet. I took my time as I actually love feet like his - - all athletic with long toes that look strong individually. I came up his calves and moved around back to give them great service. It was then I saw my reflection in the shiny black Hummer. I was on my knees worshiping a muscle man. He was standing above me, having pumped out push ups with my mass on his back. He had flirted with me without ever praising, gawking or even indicating my huge, muscular body. He'd shown off his power over other men AND women, beaten me in a half round of golf. He'd torn off his shirt with ease and then another man's and got me out of mine without touching my body. He was naked and full of testosterone standing over me having belittled me some and spit in me and face fucked me to the point of near pain. He had, indeed, manhandled me many times over. 

To top it all off, he was watching me realize all of this in the reflection on the Hummer, too. He and I both knew he was fulfilling everything I wanted. He had his hands on his hips like Superman and I felt completely fulfilled as I dug my head into his ass. He reached around and shoved my face in and started offering verbal praise for the effort.

Him entering my chute  minutes later, with no lube and as aggressively as the face fuck, wasn't my first time with a dude there, but it was the only time I felt like I was being topped by a man. It was so satisfying and hot and powerful and animalistic. He was grunting and heaving and attempting to shove my mass around the grass - and doing so a little - with every thrust. He kept yelling at me - demanding to know if I liked it. I kept yelling back, "Yes, sir," again not caring who heard. This was man sex and a man like Joe could do it anywhere and anyway he liked and everyone that didn't like it could fuck off or perhaps get beaten back.

He exited and flipped me over for another round. He was desperate to get back inside. As he grabbed my ankles and buried himself again, I started giving back what I knew to do to make a man crazy. I started flexing my own tectonic plates. I was groaning and writhing on his cock and was trying to give back some of the love he was giving me. I bunched and even punched them to get him focused on my superior chest. I pulled on the nipple and ran a hand down my perfectly hairy ten pack and flexed it like the hand had changed it from soft to rock. This combo of techniques stopped any previous fucker in his tracks or, at very least, made him reach out with both hands to pound, knead and grope what I had to offer.

Not Joe - he just reared back with what could only be described as a bull's ferocity...seriously, his nostrils flared and his eyes burned red! He lifted up his arms and hit a double biceps and roared like a lion and just glared at me with a look that made me feel like I wasn't a match for him. He bucked harder and harder and flexed harder and harder and roared louder and louder and then, when all was at a fever pitch, we crunched down into a most muscular pose to end all most musculars and screamed, "Cum you little bitch!"

And God love him - I did!! I threw my head back and had my first touchless orgasm. No man had ever been able to do that for me in my ass. But this wasn't a man. Look at him! He wasn't even an equal at this moment. He was my alpha, he kept the fuck going and I was - - for the first time in my life - - satisfied and felt entirely manhandled.




Joe Gets His Wish

I had sweat pouring from every inch of me. I was going to be spent. I'd NEVER working this hard with a client, but GOOD GOD DAMN THIS WAS a GOD I was fucking. I had loved playing this role for him, but I wanted him to flex for me so badly. I wanted permission to experience the rocks he had under his skin. I was clearly never going to be the same as there is no being on the planet bigger than this John. 

I knew my most muscular had finally set him off. I won. I achieved. It was fun to not just have him let me win, but to actually pull it off in my own right.

As I see John come back to earth, I slow my humping. My dick is painfully hard, but I keep a slow rhythm going for him. He watches me as I bounce my pecs a little. He bounces his in return and I just about cum. Instead, I close my eyes to keep pumping without orgasm. I'm here for his pleasure. I'm a professional, I won't be swayed by my utmost desire for -

"Joe. Joe, look at me."

I open my eyes and somehow he has his legs wrapped around me tightly enough for leverage but loose enough for me to freely thrust. He has done a partial sit up to a 45 degree angle with his back off the ground. He is clearly comfortable there and could hold the position all day. 

"You have permission to look and touch and enjoy me now."

He flexes his abdominals without crunching. He mounds his pecs without effort. He sweeps his arms up to straight out and the thickness of the bellies is evident. I look him in the eye with one more, 'are you sure,' and he simply snaps into a double bi - - the scent of his previously unexposed pits hits me, he fucking FLEXES his ass and I fall forward, wrap my arms under his so I can reach up the backside of those arms and lay hands on the peaks while I suck on his chest. He milks my cock free of every drop of cum I've ever manufactured, my eyes roll in my head and I experience an orgasm that causes no jerking of my body. It is so complete I don't convulse or spasm. I'm completely free and able to rub, grab, lick and enjoy this man and my weight doesn't even move him. 

God, I love my job!  


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Fantastic story!  Love how the big guy got to find his big man, at least for one glorious night.  It was sweet, sexy and dominating at the same time. 

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