Connor and Shane, the "Perfect" Couple

[ghifty]

First off, I've never wrote a story in narrative, third person, or any form. This is something new to me. I have plans for this.. chronicle, and it will purposely cross over many grammatical and contextual rules. At times it will be a dream, at times it will be a wet dream, at times it will be retrospective, at times it will look forward, at times it will be current. I hope that this will add to the ultimate infatuation, and universal happiness, which these two studs (or, stud and god) have achieved. That being said, I hope you enjoy my (shitty) work!

Connor and Shane, the "Perfect" Couple

Arc 1--Us

I love Shane and he loves me. How we met is clich?, to say the least. It was the typical bromance—happening to two guys who were startlingly straight and who were, at the time, experiencing, or rather, discovering their sexual appetites. But, as shocking it was to both of us, neither Shane nor I can be happier with how everything has panned out.

Shane (born: Shane Alexander Applegate) was, when we met, representative in every way of the High School jock--towering over many of us at 6’ 2” at an ample 230 pounds, strutting around with his “sexy” girlfriend, wearing tight-fitted tank tops, living the social life, intentional and frequent crotch grabs to show off his considerable endowment, all of that stuff. With looks that equaled his conformity to the “Jock Manifesto” he was a charmer, and, for me, a killer.

Now, needless to say, no longer a teenager (he was 17), he’s departed that phase. Surpassing the boundaries which he so thoroughly challenged as a young adult, Shane has, simply put, become a god. My god.

Everything about him has remained the same. Well, maybe not. Now, Shane is 6’ 5” and flirting with 270 pounds (all solid muscle). He still struts around, but with me, his, according to him, “sexy” companion. He still wears tight-fitted clothes, but it’s not by choice. It’s by force (his force) and the obviousness that his large size would cause this, that everything doesn’t fit him. Thankfully, tank tops are still his piece de resistance. His pectorals stretch out the clothing, I can always see his fleshy man-meat peak through the (large) openings (hell, I can see his man-meat show through t-shirts too)… he looks perfect when he wears shorts too… his now incredible endowment creating a nice curve… he always teases me… walks out of the bathroom with a towel wrapped tightly around his waist (still not enough to hide his python)... upper body bare… pectorals looking sexy… his defined abs hard as ever… biceps balled up as he plays with them… bouncing… now stroking his trail… lightly brushing his massive cock. Oh fuck, he usually winks at me—grinning that sexy smile. Damn, he’s walking into our room… fuck look at that ass. That perfectly formed back. Striations.. calves.. even the back of his head. I always make a mess out of myself when he walks out of that damned shower. Hell, I just did. Maybe I’ll get into the rest of him tonight. And for those of you who actually care about my thoughts, I’ll get into him, later.

[beachdude]

VERY HOT START!! MORE PLEASE!

[LoveEmBig]

wow! way hot so far! give us some more!