Late Night Snack 3: Savoring the Moment

[lkjhgfdsa]

Hey guys,

Well, I'd intended for part 3 to be the end - but as sometimes happens, as I wrote the actual story, I found a break point that I really liked.

So I hope you like this installment, and look for the conclusion with part 4.

>>


I was so unbelievably cold—and my dick was so fucking hot.

I looked lustfully at Matt as he loomed over me with his incredibly, frighteningly angry bulk, feeling the winter-cold asphalt grinding through my jeans, the hard intense cold of the dirty metal dumpster at my back seeping through my cotton T and making its way deep into my bones.

My hands palmed involuntarily at my warm, hard dick as it pressed into a fantastic bulge against the fly of my jeans. It pulsed with my every breath as I looked up at Matt's unsurpassed, god-like form. I stared, I gawked, simply unable to believe his intense musculature looming over me -- even though I'd already experienced some of the fucking pleasurable pain it could inflict -- his fucking heavy, ripped to shreds bulk pulsing intensely with the very idea of pounding my ass into the ground. Sexually and literally.

His abs were improbably heavily ripped around his—what was it, a 30-inch waist?—and as he’d done with Carly before, Matt worked them for both our pleasure—flexing each hard in turn as he grinned down at me, veins streaking down his heavily muscled body, threatening what was to come.

My dick was hotter and harder than ever. Damn heavy and about to blow.

Matt grinned at my small, pathetic body propped prone against the dumpster. He squatted down slowly, meeting me overwhelmingly, dick-about-to-blow face to face. I tore my eyes from his chisled jaw and heavy, striated pecs to watch the thick teardrops of his quads press improbably against the lined fabric of his brown corduroys, every bulge of muscle heavily outlined with shadow, the corded fabric straining and threatening to give way at any moment. My eyes moved up his heavy thighs to his even heavier crotch, which pulsed and pounded thickly with Matt’s every breath.

“I’ve been waiting a long time to play around with you,” Matt grinned darkly. And to my orgasmically impossible delight he willed his thick, hard muscles to shred into oblivion right there—never bodily moving, but his tanned, immense bulk flexing and twitching and contracting and impossibly ripping into incredible striations right before my very eyes. Every single fucking muscle swelling to improbable proportions, then flexing each in turn, Matt's pecs bounding, his shoulders separating into three distinct swollen heads, his biceps swelling in place, his horseshoe triceps jutting outward improbably, his thick lats widening to fill every gap in space I could see, his improbably tight, hard waist shredding into ever deeper cuts between his abs... while his heavy thighs and diamond-hard bulky calves threatened to rip his brown cords into oblivion. He noted my instant pleasure, smiled cockily, and flexed and pulsed each meaty, shredded muscle in an ongoing orgasmic pattern, willing my cock to blow it's full load.

And just as I was fighting against closing my eyes at the moment of explosion, unwilling to miss a single fucking second of this mindblowing muscle show—Matt stretched out his meaty paw directly into my crotch, grabbing my cock and crushing my balls in a fucking painfully exquisitely hard mind-blowing way, letting me pulse and pulse and simultaneously preventing even a single drop of cum from making its way out. I can never explain—god, my abs clench even with the thought—how fucking suck-in-your-breath-till-you’re gonna-pass-out mind-blowingly awesome this was. This absolute fucking jacked muscle god squatting before me, his thick, heavy squads about to blow out his pants, his densely muscled chest, insanely built shoulders, thick, heavy arms, forearms corded with incredible fucking power, reaching hard and purposefully into my crotch, controlling the one fucking thing I wanted, absolutely fucking needed to do.

Oh my fucking god—I thought with every breath—as I pulsed and pulsed and pulsed—harder and harder—my abs drawing tighter with every impossibly pleasurably painful breath.

Matt grinned even more darkly, tightened his meaty grip on my crotch, and reached to the side with his other hand. He picked up a nearby garden hose— a neon green, frosted-from-the-cold hose tethered to the side of the building. The hose we used every night to wash away the dumpster’s leaking filth that soiled our parking lot. It was clearly turned on full blast, ready to jet, its hard thick tubing a freakish metaphor for my impossibly swollen dick.

“No!” I yelled as Matt leveled the frosted metal nozzle at me. I squirmed but his forearm clenched even tighter, every thick, heavy, vein-streaked muscle leaping into play, nearly crushing my balls through my jeans with his painful vice-like grip. My soft body went slack and I whimpered in submission.

“No?” he grinned, waving the icy nozzle at me point blank, menacing, threatening—his stone-like face oh so fucking orgasmically frightening. He released my crotch from his vice-grip and quickly moved his hand to the bottom seam of my T-shirt and jerked it violently off over my head, pulling it clear of my tousled mane and exposing my soft white flesh to the violent cold and his sneering gaze. He took in my soft body with contempt.

“Fucker,” he said.

And then he leveled the pulsing frosty nozzle at my gut, point blank, and squeezed.

The full on jet of nearly-freezing water slammed into my gut with a thousand butcher-knife stabs. I cried out in incredible pain, my eyes tearing, my screaming echoing through the night as my body slammed violently against the already frozen steel of the filthy green dumpster at my back.

Matt slowly moved his aim upwards—tracing a solid cutting line down the absolute middle of my body—stopped square at my face—then traced back down with surgical precision along the same red-streaked, welt-raised, fuckingly painful line. But instead of stopping at the initial blast point on my soft white belly, he kept moving southward, focusing the entire fucking ice-cold jetstream blast straight at my crotch.

I was going to pass out from the pain.

But then, as soon as as those billion icicle needles had thoroughly soaked my jeans and told my heavy, warm dick to shove off, Matt stopped the spray. He tossed the hose aside and leered down at me with a frightening hunger, his heaving, ripped muscular bulk radiating an intense heat that immediately thawed my body and threatened to send me into full cardiac arrest. He smiled, grinning downward at my soft, shivering whiteness.

“Having fun yet?” Matt growled, and quickly reached to the fly of my jeans with both meaty forearms. He didn’t bother with the button and zipper. Instead, he licked his lips as his chest flexed and shredded, his heavy lats popping out and veins streaking down his impossibly thick bis and tris as he pulled my jeans absolutely fucking in two, exposing my thoroughly soaked white cotton briefs and the freezing cold package behind them that instantly, improbably warmed and started to swell.

“Keep it coming,” Matt said, eyeing the bulging white package. “You’ve got a long way to go before I'm happy.”

[iceman75]

Another awesome chapter, I've loved it since the beginning, your muscle description is great! Can't wait to see more!

[rtulde]

This is a great story, but I'm still confused as to why Matt wants to "play." Did our narrator mistreat Matt's sister? Or has Matt had aching for him all these years? Keep writing! It's great!