"Curling Lesson" by Deadlifter

[fleXodus]

Curling Lesson
by [email protected]

"No way, man! Are you out of your freakin' head?? Topping is the only way to go. Being a bottom sucks, big time!"

So sayeth my highly opinionated and sometimes narrow-minded lifting partner, Eddie. We've been partners for, oh, going on five years now, but we've never messed around together - Eddie had found his true love before we met and neither of them has played the field ever since. Saves on condoms, anyway, I suppose. But Eddie seems pretty happy; he's a big guy - bigger than me, and a bit of a control freak, which means that his lover - as you might have guessed, is somewhat smaller - on the average side, so Eddie rules the roost in all ways, as his personality demands -- their time in bed included.

Since Eddie's sexual needs are well taken care of at home, we rarely ever discuss sex; he doesn't even much look at other guys whereas that's pretty much my life these days. However on this day we'd gotten into a quietly restrained, yet heated discussion over the very important topic of, "Which is better, being a Top (with a capital 'T', in Eddie's book), or being a bottom (with a very small 'b')? Now, the nice thing about questions like this is that there IS no right answer - except for each and every individual - so that it's always a great question for getting a conversation going when the party gets dull.

Where was I? Oh, yeah?., It all got started because I was doing 'leg day,' or perhaps I should really say, 'glute day,' which for me meant squats and lunges: bodybuilder squats, wide-stance power-lifting squats, lunges to the front, the side, and somewhere in between, and even the seldom performed leg abductors - all the moves that seem to attack one part of my butt or another. Eddie had been going heavy on his back, and we'd been pushing each other a quite a bit harder than usual, and by now we were both pretty well fagged (excuse the expression?.), so that after an hour's hard work we decided to take a little break before finishing up.

So there we were, walking around, stretching, chatting, sipping water, and out of the blue Eddie says to me--, he says, "I guess you need to keep that pretty butt of yours in good shape - otherwise you'd probably never be able to find yourself a real man, huh?"

Where the fuck! did that come from? I mean - Eddie's known I'm a bottom for years, and he's never really made any reference to it before now; - guess he's been hiding his feelings all this time. So why now? Maybe, I thought--, maybe it's time for a new lifting partner; maybe he's getting tired of spotting me on squats, which wouldn't surprise me - I mean, I do them all the time, it seems like. The truth is - I DO like to keep my butt in good shape. In fact?,

- a confession: when it comes to my ass, I do go a bit overboard. Every five or six days, for better or for worse, I'm hitting my butt. It all started, I expect, because my first few encounters of the sexual kind involved pretty beefy guys - well, compared to my slim, bony, fourteen-year old body, anyway. They were only a couple years older than me, and none of them were careful, or thoughtful, and not one of them thought about me as they parried and thrust - they were interested only in getting their rocks off and I was just their means to an end, until it happened: I began thinking ---, and the most important thought I had was that although (and I certainly can't deny this! ?), although the sensations I'd been experiencing were totally incredible (please note that even though my early "mentors" were thoughtless, shabby pricks, I DID go back for more.., and more.., and more -- I quickly got hooked on this sex thing), and although it felt so good having those man-sized dicks inside of me, there was still a problem. Because of the superior, egotistical attitude of those jackasses who were so joyously pounding my ass, I felt like little more than a handy receptacle for their dicks?,

- and so I thought some more, and my next interesting thought was: Hmmmmm, receptacles are totally 'passive' objects; if I want to be more, maybe I need to be 'active'. So I dared to experiment. With my ass. And, Wonder of Wonders!! - everything changed! Those turkeys on top started reacting to ME! They started responding to what I was doing, and it wasn't so very long before I, in my subtle, very unobtrusive way was dictating the tempo. I now had some say in the proceedings, and those dick-otistical know-nothings on top didn't have a clue. Admittedly, I really shouldn't knock those guys for putting so little thought into their work - they didn't have to. They didn't need to work very hard for their pleasures. I did.

But it was Grr-r-r-r-r-e-a-t! I was in control!

- for all of oh-h-h-h?, maybe five minutes. I had no endurance. After that, pfffft! -same old, same old. That's when I, out of desperation, took up weight training, and I've stuck with it ever since. Working my butt has become my life's passion, and has it ever paid off! Five years later, and it is now fact - not ego - that allows me to say that I own the "Mother of All Butts!" I am the prototypical Tight-Ass! And proud of it. And yes----, it does attract good company. If you like 'em big, and meaty, and hard, and strong enough to inflict serious pain (if you're into that sort of thing?.), look me up -- I've got just what you're looking for.

Here's what I mean. Once I'd been a few days without?, well, you know. Then I had this big, kinda arrogant, top-dude who felt so-o-o-o-o very, very good inside that I didn't want the feeling to stop, but for some reason, he kept pulling out, whistling a few bars of Dixie, and then re-inserting. Fuck that, I decided - it was time for the ole Clamp'eroooo. The next time he tried to leave - I held on. He pulled harder - still stuck. He grew irritated: "Wha'd'ya think y'er doin', y'little fuck?"

I tried to be nice. "Hey, man - I'd just like for you to stick around for awhile," I said - heh, heh, heh. "Damn you - let me out!" I didn't. He started pounding on my back. No luck - I just sucked him in farther. It was so S_W_E_E_T!! I was in my element! All those years of training had really paid off. He finally saw things my way and stayed in until I (with a Capital 'I' ) was ready to blow. I had managed to prolong the affair into a forty-five minute session, and for most of the time I was the one directing the action. I was in heaven. Sure --he was bigger than me, and stronger than me, and even after he'd stopped pulling his dick out he kept trying to sound like he was driving the boat; but?, who was really in control?

Oh, shit - there I go again, running off at the?, now what was I..., umm-m-m, oh yeah - this was all about Eddie and my 'pretty butt.' I was pissed and got defensive. "So I like to keep in shape - what's wrong with that? So do you!"

"Yeah, but I don't spend all my time working just my ass."

Well, he did have a point, but that didn't soothe me any. It was time to hit him where it hurt the most. "Maybe you should. Then your legs might look big enough to hold up the rest of you." He flinched and gave me a severe scowl. But, shit - he deserved it - the guy was born a fuckin' endomorph; it was easy for him to get big. I had to work for what I got, and while his upper body was great, he looked top heavy because he hardly ever worked the bottom half - guess he's not so tough, I figured; he just couldn't take the pain. I had three inches on him in the leg department, and he hated that. It was time for him to get back on his chosen topic.

"Sure, you've got a great butt, but so what? All you do is hold onto the bed and take what you get. That sucks. Me -- I like being the one in control."

What a Jack-Ass! The guy didn't have a clue. I'm remembering now why we never talked about sex. I began to wonder what had kept Eddie and his little friend together for so many years. To each, his own, I guess -- none of my business, anyway. I had this urge to satisfy my vanity by seducing him and showing him what control was all about but decided it just wasn't worth it, and clearly further discussion was pointless. I let it slide. "Come on -- let's finish up."

We were about ready to head out when in walks Zack. As luck would have it, he was heading for the far end of the gym, meaning that he was walking away from me, so that I could stare. Hard. And enjoy the view. And drool a little, and give my pecker free reign to misbehave. My towel was handy, just in case anyone looked. Zack was pretty much my fantasy -- and the reason why I paid an annual membership fee to this gym and just the daily admission fees everywhere else in town. Given my choice, I'll always go for big and lean, and six-foot three-inch Zack Bignuts (well, that was my name for him? The 'Zack' part was right, at least.) fit the specs. Over the last few years, I'd watched him put on fat and muscle over the winter - though I doubt he ever got over eleven or twelve percent bodyfat, and then lean up come springtime. A couple weeks ago I saw him come in looking leaner than ever and head for the scales, so I nonchalantly (I hoped) followed him over. It looked like I was just waiting my turn, but managed, of course, to read off the '245' before he stepped off as he gave me a polite nod.

Today he was very close to being truly "ripped," and I watched him intently as he moved through the gym. Vaguely I heard, "Houston to Jackie-boy; Houston to Jackie-boy. Do you copy? Over."

My head snapped back to Eddie. "Huh? --- Oh? Yeah."

"Give it up; he's out of your league. Let's go."

On this, at least, I had no choice but to agree with Eddie. Zack had first appeared about three years, two inches, and fifty pounds ago. He was seventeen at the time and lean and strong, and developing rapidly. By now he had turned into easily the biggest muscular guy I'd ever seen in person -- and I wanted him. At first he always came with a smaller, good-looking lifting partner, and they appeared to be really close friends. I wondered just how close when suddenly his buddy disappeared. For the next couple of months, he came alone. "Hm-m-m-," I wondered. On a certain Friday, after not a little planning, I was ready to make my first subtle move on him. Crazily enough, I had just taken two steps in his direction when?. - of all things -- his friggin' girl-friend shows up! Talk about stopping d-e-a-d in your tracks! It was a sad day in Mudville, I gotta tell you.

And while I'm tellin' you stuff, I've gotta tell you something else: another confession, really. I've got another fetish --besides being a control-freak in bed, I mean. It's not so much that I care about 'my guys' being big -- it's being strong that really matters, but since the two usually go together, well?. And why is being strong so important, you ask? O.K. -- that brings me to my second fetish: yeah, I like to do my share of leading the action once things get serious, but before that, during the preliminaries, up until my other half gets plugged in, I like being pushed around. All right, all right.., I admit it -- I really like being pushed around. Go ahead -- call me a "pussy" if you want -- I don't give a f___! That's what I like. In fact, in my ideal fantasy, my partner would have to literally force himself on and into me?. Aww, fuck, man -- just talkin' about it is makin' my butt twitch and my cock jump; it makes me want to jump in the car and head to the gym to see who I can?.awww, shit -- now where was I --Oh yeah --- I want to be forced into battle, so to speak. But once we get hooked up my butt does what it does best and I start to shine.

So you can see my predicament: thanks to five years of serious gym work, I'm fairly strong, and so I need to find someone who is very strong so he's able to force himself on me. Not an easy thing to do, so I keep hooking up with big guys and hoping for the best. The problem is that, in spite of numerous sensationalized news stories that might suggest otherwise, most guys, not even the big, tough-looking ones, are much into rape, and if you've just met someone and agreed upon an evening of fun and games, you can't just say, "Hey, if I struggle real hard and put up a fight, would you still fuck me?" It just doesn't work -- trust me -- I tried it once. Just once. Don't ask. I was getting desperate; what can I say?.

So here's what I do. We start off all normal-like, just the usual touchy-feely stuff, but then when it gets to be time to get down to it, I act all contrary and shit -- I even act pissed when he tries to get in position to insert. But it's just that -- an act, hoping the Big Guy will get just a little bit ticked off?.(but not a lot ticked off: a lot ticked off and either he leaves, or else leaves me battered and bruised, neither of which is to my advantage) -- so anyway, he would get just a little bit ticked off, and then go into Super-Macho mode and force me -- literally f-o-r-c-e me into submission. If I get this far -- and my percentage is getting pretty high these days, I keep up my act as he starts to drill me, making him think that he's got me exactly where HE wants me, loading him up with all this B.S. like, "Oooooo, you're so bi-i-ig," and, "No one's ever filled me up like you?," and all that other shit (it's easy to do - I just pretend I'm a woman trying to make her undersized boyfriend feel like a real man), and then slowly, carefully, but inexorably, my ass takes over, and before long, he's the one saying stuff like, "Holy Fuck! -- How do you do that?!" Only it's not an act now -- his reaction is real.

See what I mean -- who's really in control?

Now you know where I'm coming from.

* * * * *

I didn't see Eddie for a while after that, and for the next few weeks I flew solo, doing easy workouts. After three weeks of being lazy, I headed to the gym intent on a "balls-out" session; I picked a busy time, figuring I'd be able to get someone to spot me now and again. As luck would have it, Thad, one of the very big, serious regulars was there -- alone, so we hooked up for the day. He was a nice guy and we'd talked now and again in the past. He was straight but he was also cool -- didn't give a damn what anybody else did in bed. He was also horny and on the lookout for a bedmate, as was I, of course, so the conversation easily and frequently turned to sex as he scanned the gals while I did the guys. Unfortunately, it was so nice to be able to talk to a straight guy so freely about both his and my sex lives, and we were having such a good time joking around in between really tough work sets that a) I was paying no attention whatsoever to anyone else in the gym, and b) I got to talking a good bit louder than my usual, very restrained public voice, and as a result?.

Thad was on the bench, trying to knock out a baker's dozen reps with four plates (that's 405# for you non-lifters out there?. I told you he was big). I was on the platform, spotting him, and this was right after I'd finished bragging (a bit too loudly) about my talented ass. I gave him a lift-off; Thad lowered it to just below his nipples (which I tried not to look at even as they pushed hard through his slightly tight tank top) with a perfectly controlled three-count, held it briefly, and pushed it steadily, securely, and powerfully upward at the perfect angle, slightly off the vertical, ending up over his shoulders, exactly as he should, crunching the pecs hard at the top?.

And that's the last thing I can remember, because that's when HE chose to walk past me just to my right. If Zack was my fantasy, this guy was my fantasy squared! Where the Hell did he come from? New guy in town? I didn't know men could be that muscular - he had to be at least six-foot six, and as for his weight? Not a clue, but he made Thad look like a muscle-man wannabe by comparison. He must have grown up on Iowa corn and Kansas beef -- lots of it! - and had it all turn into pure muscle.

As I was taking him all in, a horrible realization struck me -- well, two horrible realizations, really. Number one was that my subconscious had been aware of -- and was only now letting me see, that "Mr. Really Big" had been working on the T-Bar right behind us, and, number two - he could have easily heard me yapping away about my ass. Of course, that wouldn't matter if he didn't catch me staring drop-jawed at him, which I was doing right now and couldn't stop. (Please don't look this way; please don't?..) I was totally fixated on this man and, much to my surprise, I was especially fixated on his butt, which is not me at all, as you might guess, but this guy didn't mind showing off what he had, and what he had just now was a snugly-fitting pair of spandex gym-shorts making the hard, rippling glute muscles, and the depth of the cleavage in between, only too obvious as he wove carefully among the benches and weight stacks towards his goal across the gym. Was he advertising?

My mind was enshrouded in fog; the gym had totally disappeared except for this God among men who had so easily ensnared my mind. Then, emanating from somewhere within the fog was a strange, fuzzy sound, which became a loud, strident voice. Was someone calling for me?.?

"Yo! Fuckhead!"

Oh, Shit! There was Thad, the four-hundred pound bar slowly approaching the base of his neck, his arms barely keeping it from crushing down onto his wind-pipe. I never could have lifted the bar by myself, but luckily he had enough strength left to help some and we got the bar to safety. I won't describe the scene that followed except to say that it was loud and nasty. It started with a well deserved, "Where the Fuck were you, you stupid Bastard!" and went downhill from there. At some point in the harangue, I looked up towards You-Know-Who, only to find him standing with thick, bulging arms folded across his impressively broad chest staring straight back at yours truly. I got trapped by his eyes and stared back, daydreaming about having somebody like HIM fuck me hard enough to shove me off the bed?., and I knew I was in deep trouble. Oh fuck -- stop looking at him. Just turn your head--go on! You can do it..., but I couldn't. Nothing moved -- except my dick, and all too obviously. Jesus, fuck -- don't look down?don't look? - Shit! Too late. His eyes dropped down, and I knew he saw. The smart thing to do at this point would have been to turn around and focus on Thad. Instead I followed His lead -- and looked down at Him. Hey - I never did claim to be very bright, and anyway it wasn't my brain that was in control at that moment---- Holy, Mother of God -- it can't be. My cerebral cortex was doing a quick comparative study -- putting the thick tube of man-flesh so beautifully outlined by the wonders of spandex up against things like cans of Foster's and very big cucumbers. The dick compared admirably. I let my eyes flash quickly back up, hoping he hadn't noticed that I'd?Shit! -- too late again. OK - so I'm fucked. All of this finally scared me enough that I was able to break eye contact and face the music still being issued by my very angry partner, who had in fact just then spun me around by the shoulders to face him so he could finish up while looking me straight in the eye.

What had started out as a really good day had suddenly gone about as sour as any day could. It was all I could take. I let the tirade blow itself out, apologized ignominiously, excused myself and split for the showers. I let myself soak in self-pity, lots of soap, and fairly hot water for a while, hoping, I suppose, to wash away all the memories. Eventually I stopped, dried off and dressed, and was zipping up my gym bag when who should walk in but the newly-renamed Mr. HugeCock!

Our eyes locked briefly; he offered me a little smile, and said, "Hey."

I stood there, staring, without a clue what to say. "He was smiling!?!," I thought through the haze.

"What's your name?"

That's an easy question -- I can handle that?, I thought. What I said was, "Wha--? Oh! Yeah?, u-m-mm?," Way to go, Shithead -- real smooth, you are?. "Uh, that is..,, Jack. Name's Jack."

"Uh, huh. Tough question, was it?" He said it with a big smile on his face.

I can't believe he's still talking to me. I tried to cover up with a chuckle. "Uh-h, sorry -- guess my mind was elsewhere." Sure was -- deep in his crotch, that's where.

He gave a little grunt of acknowledgment. "That was some pretty strong stuff you were saying in there."

"????" I knew exactly what he was talking about, but I didn't want him to know that I knew. I tried to act stupid. It wasn't difficult.

"About your ass, I mean."

Uh, oh-h-h-h.? Not knowing what to say, or what he'd actually heard, all I came up with was a very uncertain, questioning, "Uh huh??"

"Was that just empty talk, or was it for real?"

He was still smiling, though now with a touch of seriousness there. His voice contained real interest, and he had what I judged to be an expectant look on his face. A glimmer of hope! A ray of sunshine! And so it was that, with a good bit more confidence and pride in my voice, I answered: "It was for real, man."

He studied me quietly for what seemed like forever, his eyes intently searching mine, looking for what? I wondered. I guess he found what he wanted, because his next words were, "My place. Tonight. Please come. Any time after six." He handed me a folded piece of paper containing directions to his home. Does he always come prepared, I wondered to myself? Probably, I answered myself. I expected that he rarely got a rejection.

I didn't respond. I couldn't remember how to speak.

"Unless you're busy, of course."

I couldn't believe this guy: here I'd been caught shamelessly scoping him out in the gym, making an ass of myself as a spotter, and now I was having trouble putting two intelligible words together and yet---, and yet he was smiling so invitingly at me, and being so? Nice! And at the same time he was self-assured and confident -- and a fucking muscle-god -- and still he was - Nice! I mean - he'd actually said, "Please!" Not even a hint of arrogance about him. How could I be so fucking lucky? Of course I'll go, I screamed! Silence. Wait a minute -- he's not saying anything?. Oh shit - I've got to say it out loud! But when I tried..,

"Uh-h-h-h?, no?, I mean?., yeah?, I mean?, what I mean is 'No, I'm not busy.' Oh yeah - that's a lot better you Dork! Real swift! I didn't know if I'd go out with me just then! "Tonight, that is. I'm not busy tonight, so sure?, yeah. I'll be there."

He watched me for a few more seconds, nodded his head to seal the appointment, and then headed straight for the showers. I left before he had time to change his mind.

The afternoon passed in a blur -- I was on such a HIGH! I needed to plan my attack carefully for tonight. I didn't really know anything about this guy - not even his name, for Christ's sake! He seemed like an even-tempered sort who wouldn't normally try to force himself on someone, which of course was exactly what I intended to make him do -- but how to go about it? I mean the guy is huge! I was quite sure he could pound me to dust without breaking a sweat. The trick was going to be to tease him into a state of high arousal and then play hard-to-get just enough to raise his dander a bit -- just a teensy bit in his case, to the point where he decides to take control and force the inevitable. But if I overdo I, and he suddenly gets real pissed, I'm toast. Burned toast, at that.

So I spent the afternoon thinking about what to do. Normally, this is a five-minute job for me -- I did say I'd gotten good at this-- but it's tough to think clearly while in a state of near euphoria as I was -- anticipating an evening with the Man of My Dreams -- Hell! -- better than the Man of My Dreams! I spent most of the day skipping around the house with a big shit-eating-grin on my face, picturing myself twisting both of his huge, hard nipples while my face was buried in the cleavage between those boulderous pec muscles, licking clean the valley floor, and then turning him over and burying my face in his other cleavage and licking clean that valley floor - and trying very hard NOT to touch my dick for fear of you-know-what. Even so, I nearly came a couple of times imagining the feel of his ample cock inside of me and the driving power of those huge thighs!

Eventually, I got it worked out. Sure, he acted mild-mannered, but still, anybody that big has to be used to having things his way. I'd have to be subtle, but I was confident. Therefore I walked up his sidewalk at 6:10 PM (I didn't want to show up at exactly six - I didn't want to look like I was too eager.), with visions of lying comfortably on my back on a large, massive bed, my ass up in the air with my legs drooped lazily over his massive arms, watching a bright sheen spread over every thick, rounded muscle as he worked hard to keep me in the best position to satisfy his lust. I warmed my heart as I imagined watching the changing expressions of pleasant surprise and gratification cross his face as I expertly -- sometimes roughly (I was certain he'd like that! - Oh yeah!) massaged his hard, powerfully thrusting dick. I couldn't help chuckling out loud as I walked, wondering how long it would be before he realized just who was steering the ship tonight. I rang the bell and put on my most confident face. The game was on.

I don't know what I expected -- hadn't really given it much thought -- I suppose I expected that he'd be dressed -- a bit. And he was -- just a bit. Ever seen those thin cotton bikini shorts - kinda like baggy posers? Not much more than a long string, really, except that there's a lot of space in the pouch, allowing the genitals hang loosely within the folds of material so that when the guy is standing still you can't really see anything down there, but when he walks, you can easily see the dick swaying sideways with each step. That's what he had on, but on him it looked different: because of his overall bodily thickness, and his lean, hard, yet ample butt, the bikini was stretched tightly enough to appear to be almost pasted on him, so it was impossible NOT to see what I guessed to be over five inches of relaxed but thick man-meat just begging to get into action, along with two full-looking fuel tanks down below. I took all this in rather quickly, and it was but a moment after the door was opened that I heard a deep growling voice.

"Y'er late!"

"Well, uh-h-h?, you said -"

"In!" He waved me in, closed the door, and headed down the hallway. "This way."

This didn't sound like the same guy I'd met in the gym just a few hours earlier. Kinda short in social skills, I thought. Well, fuck - who cares - that's not what I'm here for. Master bedroom, here I come.

Not.

Home gym - not huge, but with a power rack, a couple benches, and a large assortment of dumbbells, including some really, really, big ones. Holy fuck! - this guy's even stronger than he looks. My dick twitched at the same time that my mind questioned my decision to show up. Too late for that. I'd been standing still taking in my surroundings - for all of seven seconds or so, but that was enough to make my host impatient, apparently.

A deep, gruff voice close behind me was saying, "Your clothes are still on."

Surprised, I spun around. I glanced downward -- his weren't. What the fuck is going on, I thought? And so I asked him: "What the fuck is going on?"

"Biceps day."

"What?" Already I was confused.

He raised one arm up and flexed it a few times - hard. Thick, rounded bulges popped up in all the right places. I gawked; my estimates began at twenty-three inches. I hadn't quite realized?..

"I want to really blast 'em today; I can work harder if I'm having sex at the same time."

Still confused, I began to ask, "How-"

"You're still not naked."

"But-"

"Maybe you could use a little help." I was wearing a loose fitting tee; he reached down and began to pull it up. "Hey, wait a-"

He wasn't about to wait. The shirt was off. I was still recovering (it was mostly my pride that was trying to recover) when I heard, "Next comes your-"

I jumped back quickly. Normally I wouldn't complain if a good-looking, super-hunk was trying to strip me, but not like this. This wasn't seduction; it wasn't foreplay; it was more like, "Hurry up and fuck!" I was more than just a little annoyed. In a somewhat angry voice I yelled, "Hold on! I can do it myself, thanks." Christ! I sound like a whining little kid -- even to me: 'Mother, please - I can do it myself.' Shit! I was feeling my status slip here. It was time to re-establish my position. If he brought me here hoping to get his cock worked over by an expert - and that was my working theory - I figured he wanted to keep me happy - after all, disgruntled workers don't give it their all, now do they? So I stripped quickly and then glared crossly at him - up at him (Dammit! - sometimes I really wished I were a few inches taller!)- and, in a voice rippling with irritation, said, "Satisfied?"

He stared down at me from atop the bulging mountain of muscle that was him - (Jesus, he was big!) - and just grunted. I took that as a 'yes.'

"Good!" - still with lots of justified irritation. "What next?.," and, with a lot of sarcasm, "- Sir?" I saw him crack a small smile as he turned around. I wondered what it meant.

"Over here." He led me to the spotter's end of a bench; it already had a fully loaded bar in place. The odd thing was that the spotter's platform was flanked by vertical racks of dumbbells - one on each side, a step or two back from the platform. The lightest, on top, was marked '75.' The others, noticeably heavier, had no markings that I could see, but they were obviously weights I'd never be able to use; seventy-five was close to my max, for reps, on flat presses. Still bewildered about what to do next, I looked back - and up - at him, and with raised eyebrows and a strong voice full of confidence and long-suffering irritation asked, "?a-a-a-and?"

His eyes suddenly became piercingly intent as his eyebrows migrated together and down towards the point right above the bridge of his nose. In his deep, but uncharacteristically harsh and commanding voice he said, "Get me ready, Cunt!"

Wait a sec - where'd that come from? He's suddenly ordering me what to do? This wasn't what I'd expected; on the other hand, isn't this exactly what I wanted? Sorta? Not precisely according to plan, but, Hey! - it looked as though in this situation his nature was to be forcible, after all, so why argue? And I didn't even have to provoke it. Boy - this was gonna be great! I'll go along for a bit, then resist just a bit? my sphincter was having spasms back there?. And so?.

"Yes, Sir!" All this time, in my confusion, I'd been looking only at his eyes. Now I looked down, expecting to take his nice, soft, dangling tube of meat into my now salivating mouth and show off my expertise at getting a roaring fire going. ---Whoa! -Not necessary! I found myself looking straight down his cum chute. This fella was r-e-a-d-y! O.K., well, the least I can do is lather him up. So I did - for longer than necessary, though he didn't object any. Finally satisfied, I pulled off, stood up and looked at him expectantly.

He says, "What about you?"

"What about me, what?" says smart-ass me, with a trace of irritation in my voice.

He blessed me with an exasperated sound and then a Man-Are-You-Stupid-Or-What look before adding, "..about greasing your hole, Dipwad (then he grabbed his thick eight-incher with one hand and pointed it at me as he finished), or are you man enough to take all this 'as-is'?"

Those who sought my services in the past had generally been a bit more courteous about this, so it was with some surprise in my voice that I reacted automatically with, "Aren't you gonna-"

"Hell, no!" he interrupted, "I'm not sticking my fingers up anybody's shit hole - do it yourself." He pointed to a nearby shelf holding a couple of dildos, Vaseline, and a tube of KY.

Normally I wouldn't be too happy about this treatment, but I had to admit that his Master-like attitude was definitely a turn-on for me. This was my first experience as a 'slave,' if that's really what was going on here, and I wasn't really sure that I wanted to be here, but if ever I was to purposely hook up with a Master, I'd want him to look just like this guy, so---, what the hell, this seemed like a good time to try it out. Evidently I was thinking too much and not moving fast enough. "C'mon, come on - we haven't got all day!"

Well, shit - I figured we had all night, at least - what was the rush? I moved toward the shelf as I grumbled sourly, "Hey - keep your shirt on, will ya?"

Not so smart. In a flash, thick, muscular fingers were gripping my neck hard, threatening to choke off my breath as I was all but lifted off of the ground by one frighteningly strong arm. In spite of my gasping and wheezing, I heard a low growl wrapped around four distinct, well-separated words: "What. Did. You. Say?"

"Uh-h-h, (wheeze) I meant, uh-h (gasp), Yes, Sir!"

The pressure eased instantly. "Better."

Damn - I'd better learn this routine real fast. I grabbed my tools and got the job done a.s.a.p. With what minimal reserves of confidence I had left, I turned to my Master and said, with what I hoped would be a well-received mixture of obedience, lightness and anticipation, "Mission accomplished, Sir. Now what?"

He didn't look amused. He just stared down at me, arms crossed on top of his jutting chest, all squinty-eyed, giving me the decided impression that I should be doing something. I glanced down at him; he was still hard, but by now pretty dry. Maybe that was it? Two quick steps, a little squirt, and I had lube all over my palms. I kneeled in front of him, and then one hand at a time, slowly but thoroughly greased his magnificently sturdy pole, taking a firm grip and sliding downward, only downward, one hand after another. With each of my strokes, he stretched himself upward slightly, as I expected he would, his already rigid tool getting more taut and tight-skinned with every stroke of my hands Oh, God - Why doesn't my dick ever get this hard, I wondered/day-dreamed at the same time? After four or five trips down his rod I grabbed firmly with both hands, slid down just a bit and then gradually increased the pressure?a little more, and then more, and then? I was sure I heard a groan of pleasure, though he tried to hide it. I released him, made a couple more gentle passes until he shined from tip to base. Still on my knees, I looked up, expecting to get his approval, but he just kept glaring exasperatedly at me. Apparently not. I stood up, looked him straight in the eyes, and with evident frustration on my face and in my voice said - almost yelled, really?, "Wha-a-a-t!"

He paused before answering, "Are you sure you've ever done this before?"

That did it! It was one cut too many. A little rough handling I could accept, but this repeated humiliation I didn't deserve or need. Fuck him - he didn't deserve me. I turned and headed for my clothes. In a voice that said I've got a right to be angry, I turned back to him and all but shouted, "That's it! I've had it with your insults. The contract's null and void - I'm outta here!" I neared my pile of clothes. "You can take all your freakin' muscles and find yourself some dimwitted dork you can step all over to satisfy your ego, if that's what you want, but as for me, I am not -"

One moment I was bending over to pick up my shorts; the next, I was sailing through the air, propelled by two large hands grasping me tightly enough to give me a wasp waist as air was expelled from my lungs. I thrashed about a good deal, but it didn't matter - the two arms attached to those hands were in total control, my fairly solid 195 lbs notwithstanding. The hands delivered me easily to the spotter's platform facing the bar.

"You're not going anywhere, Little Man." As he spoke, a monster forearm wrapped itself across my middle and crushed me against the solid mass of muscle behind me. He took a moment to be sure I was fully aware of his hard, eager cock, which was pulsing rhythmically while pressed between my backside and his wall of abs muscle. The broadly flared head was nestled snuggly in the small of my back, and I could feel the warm fluid emanating from it slide down my spine. He released the pressure from his arm, placed his hands back on my waist to hold me still as he began crouching down. I could feel his hardness sliding over my tail bone and through my crack, the combined lubrication of the KY jelly and his own precum allowing it to slide along smoothly and easily. The downward passage was complete. For brief moment, I couldn't feel him and then, "Nnnh!" - I found my portal starting to spread as his cockhead expertly found the magic point and applied some upward pressure. He put his mouth up to my ear and said, in a measured, quiet voice, with a tone one might use when trying to explain a difficult concept to a four-year-old: "Do you think you could grab that bar all by yourself, or would you like Daddy's help?"

"Fuck you!" I said, but did as instructed; I figured that this wasn't a good time to argue.

"Oh, Man! - You've even got that backwards!" I heard him grunt as he proceeded to 'Thrust!' into me.

"OWWWW!" The head was in. My "Owww" was beginning to recede when?

A second big push: "Nnnngh!" He was in, and was he ever - farther in than anyone before. The power of his thrust made my feet momentarily leave the floor when his groin slammed into my butt. Just after the explosive thrust, he once again threw an arm across my middle and pulled me away from the bar and back up against his body. He rocked his pelvis back, thus letting me down, although not all the way; my feet were back on the platform, but just barely; he was holding me loosely with his arm, so that most of my weight was being supported by his groin -- and his dick, which had stretched my insides almost beyond capacity. It felt to me as if I were gripping his cock really hard when in reality, it was the girth of his cock pressing against my ass muscles that I felt. I wasn't doing anything so far. The pain was beginning to die down when I heard him chuckle, "Nice fit - heh, heh, heh." I really wanted to throw in another, "Fuck you," but I was still catching my breath, and a "s-s-s-s-s-s?" was all I could muster.

He put his hands on my hips, and by using his arms to guide me up and down a couple of inches and rolling his hips back and forth a little bit, he demonstrated what we'd be doing in a way that even my feeble mind, as he apparently saw it, could comprehend. As he held me firmly in place and pumped me with an assured, controlled stroke, he says, in a voice rough with dominance, "Ya got it figured out by now?"

This time I couldn't hold it in. "Fuck you," I repeated.

Instantly he pulled out all but the head and slammed back in - harder than before, throwing me a few inches into the air. He'd made his point; I was beginning to regret this - in a way?, and yet I had to admit that the novelty of the situation was an incredible turn-on for me, and I wondered if my dick had ever been this taut, this sensitive, and so very- "Uhnn-n-n," I said, involuntarily. That hurt. What was that all about? He was starting to squeeze my hips between his large, strong, meaty hands as if he wanted me to do something. Oh! I guess he wanted to hear that I'd finally figured it out, so I told him. "Yeah, I got it," I said, though it was obviously a concession made under duress. In fact, it sounded like a mild form of "Fuck you." He noticed --and immediately responded with another quick pull-out and a return "SLAM!"

I corrected myself: "YES, SIR!"

"Better," he said.

Apparently satisfied at my response, he released me and pointed to the bar; I leaned over, grabbed hold and looked around. I noticed that my "buddy" was standing on a low wooden box a couple inches below where I stood. We were both now fully relaxed, and given his greater height and our anatomical structures, my butt stopped slightly above the base of his cock, so I felt no upward pressure beyond the fact that I was more or less filled up with him, and quietly enjoyed the feeling more than I was willing to let on.

As I struggled to control my breathing, my mate had turned his attention to the dumbbells, and now I finally understood the significance of the racks. Standing close behind me, he was able to reach out with each arm and grasp a dumbbell from the racks without pulling out so much as half an inch, thus remaining fully in control of the situation, Or so he thought, I told myself, heh heh. Musical strains of, "Just you wait, 'enry 'iggins - just you WAIT!" glided pleasantly through my mind.

He snatched the seventy-five pound bells off the rack with no apparent strain (OK - so he is pretty strong?) and lowered them to his sides. Then, without speaking, he began to curl, one arm at a time: left?, right?, left?, right?, slow, controlled, even-tempo'd reps, with chunks of iron my biceps could only dream of moving. The rhythm in his arms extended through his body to his cock which moved in time with the bells. As the weight moved slowly and precisely downward, the cock slid slowly, provocatively out until only the thick, wonderful helmet remained within. When the motion reversed, the upward movement of the heavy iron mass was as steady and controlled as was the negative, but with a purposefulness that carried over to the steady forward progress of the thick, warm, wet, blunt instrument that pushed its way insistently back inside.

After only a couple of reps with those massive dumbbells, and several strokes with the massive weapon down below, even the memory of the initial pain was gone, it having been easily---, nay, forcibly washed from my mind by the exquisitely strong pleasures generated throughout the journey of My Man's Phallus, but most especially by the passage of the broad, hard ridge of the mushroom cap across my sensitive prostate. At first I let myself succumb to the sensations, fully willing to let Him do all the pleasure-giving (I mean, Hell - how many times in life am I going to get to experience someone like Him, and anyway, I'd earned it just by having to take all of his macho crap), but before too long - was that two minutes? Or maybe ten? - it was time for me to assert myself. Hmmm, let's see..., how did I plan to start out? - Shit! I can't remember! The problem was that I couldn't think straight - that damned cock never stopped moving - it went straight from progressively distending my fuck chute as it pushed inexorably upward to sliding slowly southward in time with the reps that my Master kept repeating with such a careful, constant cadence: up?, down?, 3..., 4?, in?, out?.

Now wait a sec -, I thought, What's my problem? I've dealt with this situation before. Well, not exactly this situation, but?. The "problem," as it were, was that the sublimely erotic sensations arising from my superbly functioning male organ were more or less continually slamming into my brain, effectively shutting off all possibility of clear thinking. The thing is that this wasn't really a "usual" situation. Most often, I get this incredible rush of pleasure as the cock's flared ridge squeezes past my magical prostate, but in between passages---, sure, it still feels pretty good, but at least I can think - and plan - and act, but in this case- he was just starting to pull out, and yet "nnnnnnn?.,Oh God?, Nnnn-n-n-n..ss-s-s-s-s, " oh fuck - I'm getting' too close?, "Nn-n-n..," Here comes the head -"NNN! - nnn-n-n-n," -- there it is! - Gawd! - how thick is that thing?, "-ssss-s-s-s-ah-h-h-h?." - the ridge finally caught at the base of my chute. My dick was now quivering with need - Shit! --- I gotta think! There wasn't time; he'd already reversed direction and had started back up: "NNNGH!", I said as the ridge passed by, but lesser sensations kept hammering me as he slowly pushed fully and thoroughly in, making me suck breath between my teeth until he reached his limit. I took one quick breath before, "..nnn-n-n-NGH!" - he'd given a little extra upward 'Oomph!' at the top of his thrust- "hs-s-s-s-sss..," -oh shit - how can he get so deep -- "Nnnn-n-nn?."

In the midst of all that, I think I heard him grunt. I could tell that he was straining a bit during the last few reps, but this time he actually grunted! It had taken him several seconds to get to the top of that last curl, and as his mind forced his muscles to complete the movement, squeezing ever harder as he completed the contraction, his cock flexed as well. Whatever blood was not rushing to his bulging, rock-hard, thickly-veined biceps was rushing to his bulging, rock-hard, thickly-veined cock as he held both contractions at their max.

"NNnnnnn.?" I was straining not to cum. At last, he relented; both the flared head and the shaft deflated a bit as he held still for a few seconds. I had barely begun to re-gather my thoughts together when he started his next descent and withdrawal. The pressure on my prostate was fairly constant now - I groaned out loudly hoping to block out some of the feeling, "?nnnnn?," and it worked until the ridge passed by- ".uhN-SSssss?." -oh, God, please stop, please stop, or I'm gonna-, -but stop he did - and just in time; and he knew it, damn him!

"Guess I must be a bit too much man for you to handle," he chuckled.

My only coherent thought was, "Fuck you," (It occurred vaguely to me that my vocabulary seemed to be rapidly dwindling) but I didn't vocalize it; I figured I'd be pushing it. He must have taken pity on me, because he relaxed for longer than usual. I had some thinking time. O.K. My plan. What was my plan? Nothing came to me. Oh well - screw it! I'll just have to let instinct and experience take over.

I'd made that decision just in time, for the dumbbells began moving again, as did his cock. In fact, he'd caught me by surprise: "SSSs.s.s.s.., -nnnn-n-n.., -ahhh-h-h?" Now what's going on??? It feels like he didn't deflate much after that last huge flex -- either that or my prostate's become engorged by all the attention it's been getting -- now there's a neat thought--, he, he, he, but Jesus! -"Ssss-s-?," Oh,shit, I can't hold off much-"NNNG! -sssss?" Damn! Whenever he moves my brain gets fried; how am I gonna figure out what to do?

Luckily he was getting tired, and so was now doing a rest-pause for several seconds after each rep, giving me time to think. Showtime! At long last I started to 'attack' the invader at my back-door; within a couple of reps, I'd developed a pattern, and thereafter managed to maintain a continuous set of squeezes, little ripples, and even some fairly powerful undulations of my USDA Choice butt-muscle. My welcome tormentor was making a variety of noises, but for all I knew he may have been just straining because of the weights. But maybe it's me, came the happy thought, and that thought gave me encouragement. I tried a little harder and soon the two of us got a real good rhythm going. For a little bit, my only sensory input came from the beast within -- my mind must have blocked out the rest of the world. Evidently he felt pretty good, too, because the dumbbells stopped moving?.., - I think.

While basking in some feeling of success, I was also fully aware of one problem: I was very close to shooting because the enhanced, super-bloated thickness of his cock was putting unrelenting pressure on my pleasure center. Fortunately, taking a more active mental and physical role in the proceedings had allowed me to deflect enough of the highly arousing sensations to maintain my control. It was time to turn up the pressure notch.

My goal, as usual, was to make my fuck-buddy cum before me, so I needed to up the intensity for him. Hoping to accentuate the greater intensity, I first reduced it in order to emphasize the contrast. As he moved forward, so did I, so that his cock didn't rub against me so strongly or so quickly, and at the same time I put all my mental effort into relaxing every groin and butt muscle I had. Consequently even his very thick dick slid through my now well-stretched passageway with minimum friction. Likewise on the return trip.

He noticed the change instantly, of course, and tried to compensate in various ways; it didn't work as well as he'd have liked and I could sense that he was getting a little flustered. After only a few strokes in this fashion, I was ready to go for the Big Squeeze, but I held off because I was very curious about what he'd do. Well - you know the problem with curiosity?. Determined to take the lead once again, he reversed direction part-way down one rep - both with the dumbbell and his cock --- and accompanied by an enormous effort and a huge grunt, thrust both of them back upward, catching me totally by surprise. The impact lifted me completely off the ground, and at that brief moment at the apex of my flight, I could feel him flex hugely inside of me- "NNGH-SSsss-s-s?, oh shit?" - even as my head got yanked around, allowing me to see his biceps crunch to new levels of shiny, vein-covered size and hardness. My body slid back down over his other hardness as I rapidly sucked in breath between my teeth, trying to stave off the inevitable, but even then only the balls of my feet were on the platform.

I hoped he'd relax at this point; he didn't. His body remained taut and hard, keeping me slightly elevated, partially suspended by his huge dick, so that the intensely erotic pressures produced by his surprising return thrust didn't go away. At least he wasn't moving, I realized, but then he added three or four additional flexes without relaxing even one little bit in between. I swore I could feel his pecker's girth increase. I sucked in more air: "Ssss-s-s-s?" Oh shit - I gotta hold off; I can't cum yet, I can't- "NNnnn-n-n?." As he flexed, I tried hard to squeeze two things: my ass muscles to make him cum, and also my own shut off valve so that my balls wouldn't give up their load. Sadly, neither muscle group responded. Oh, please stop flexing, please stop. Each flex was stretching me yet more, or so it seemed; I couldn't hold off much longer, but then, mercifully, he rotated his hips back down far enough to leave me flat-footed once again.

I needed rest - badly, but by the grace of God, so did he, it seemed; that last episode must've taken its toll on him as well. All right, think, damn it! Um-m-m-m, let's see, relaxing didn't work exactly as I'd hoped - to say the least, so I suppose it's back to the basics?. I reverted back to my now-perfected repertoire of expertly-timed, undulatory dick-massage movements.

My efforts must have had the desired effect because his breathing got heavier after I went into action. On the other hand, his thrusts got harder and more deliberate, which made it tough for me to keep my arousal under control. Things went pretty well for a few minutes; we'd both settled yet again into a steady, comfortable, complementary pattern of movements, producing in me one glorious sensation after another. If I felt a peak threatening to throw over the edge, I'd focus hard on the rise and fall of the dumbbells until my dick backed away from the point of no return.

The first really odd thing I noticed was that at the completion of each thrust, his groin was banging into me harder than before, hard enough, come to think of it, that I was now winding up on the balls of my feet each and every time. At first I just chalked it up to extra enthusiasm from my partner. Man - this guy's got energy to spare! I'm not complaining, mind you; it felt gr-r-r-r-r-e-a-t! Oh yeah-h-h, here it comes again -"Nngh! ..uhn-n-n-n-n?, Whew!" Oh, man, what a feeling -- I just hope I can hold off for a while longer.

Luckily, neither the reps, nor the thrusts, were getting any faster (Thank God!), but those thighs of his weren't losing any power, either, and the final inch or two of each "Nnnggh!" felt stronger than ever. I wondered how raw my insides were gett-- "Ummph!" Whoa - I really bottomed out this time?. His cock seemed to have reached an inner limit of some sort, probably the end of my fuck chute; it had nowhere else to go. "Oompf! -nngh-h-h-h." Holy shit - airborne there for a moment. It was getting harder not to cum. C'mon, man - you can hold off. Breathe in---, out---, in--, out. Better.

I was back on my feet - well, just the balls of my feet actually. While in this position, he actually held still for a bit, but all too soon he was tensing up the other arm, and suddenly up - and in - he went. Something had changed; the feeling was different now. For one thing, the thrusts were now a little "Ummpfh!" - harder, and (Geez! - I've got lift-off again"Nnng!" - and "Unhhh!" -again.) my feet were now leaving the ground throughout most of every thrust. Consequently, every time he popped me up in the air, he was exploring new territory within me; as the reps got harder, his grunts got louder, and his dick went deeper. With each new bit of progress on his part there was, of course, a little bit of pain on my part, which had a silver lining however - it kept me from cumming.

Shit! What was going on? How could his modestly above-average dick engorge THIS much? He must have been enjoying himself spectacularly because my butt had never been clamped this tightly around anything! It was time for a question or two, which I had to get out quickly during his rest/pause at the bottom of each thrust. "Hey, um-m-m?, say, do you have a name?"

He grunted as he started the next rep. "Hhnnn!?. It's Matt."

He made it to the top.., "Nnnng!" (this was getting hard on me) and eased slowly out "Hssss-s-s-s.., nnn." He paused.

"O.K., Matt, I gotta tell ya, it's pretty hard to do my best work when I'm stretched out like thisss-s-SSS-NNGH!.., uhnnnn?.uh, because, I mean, I thought you were pretty aroused earlier, but now - this is ridiculous-SSSS-nnNNG! Ow! - Nnnnnnn?.." Take a breath - take a breath? "I mean, it feels like your-" I was cut off by his hissing/grunting noises as he slowly and painfully lowered the dumbbell.

"Oh!" he grunted, " -yeah, well, I guess I forgot to tell you something." He took a couple of deep breaths. "When I get close to failure and I have to strain these muscles real hard to move these weights, I get really aroused and my dick grows."

Nothing special there, I thought. "Yeah, well, that sorta happens to everybody," I said, stating the obvious.

"No. Not like that." He started another rep as his cock began expanding my chute once again. "It's more than that - NNnngh!" He pushed extra hard; I yelled softly as he held the thrust at the peak and flexed as my feet dangled some distance off the floor. "Much more," he said as he gave one final grunt and swiveled back down, carrying me with him. I had this hopeful but short-lived image of me getting my feet back firmly on the ground to relieve the pressure within, but it wasn't to be. I got as far as the tips of my toes, but otherwise I was suspended in the air, held up both by my arms, which were straight out in front of me fastened tightly on the barbell, and by Matt's sturdy, steel-muscle-belted cock.

During the brief pause in our mating game, a few thoughts flew through my head. Just what does he mean by that, I wondered? He can't really mean what I think he means?, can he? On the other hand, he sure didn't feel this big when we started, but still?. 'How?' And if true, what defense could I possibly put up against a growing cock? No matter what was really going on, the facts right now were that HE was in me, his THING was fucking huge, I was constantly on the verge of cumming, and HE - and his dick - were totally in control! I guess he forgot to read my script for tonight's program, but I wasn't about to give in just yet. My only prayer, I decided, was to get yet more aggressive; it was time to put 'er into high gear. However, my strength was waning, so I knew I couldn't last long, but what did I have to lose? No matter what, I had to put the pressure back on him.

Easier said than done.

The pause was brief; it's just a good thing that thoughts move faster than dumbbells because all too soon, he was at it again - now with the left arm, then the right?, the left.. I craned my neck to check out his arms - Fuck! - that sucker's huge! - the entire biceps was taking on a cock-like, purplish hue, the blood almost visibly coursing through the thick, red-purple veins.) Somehow I tore my eye from his spectacularly bulging, still swelling arms and tried once again to focus.

Oh I focused all right -- totally?, - on his dick, which seemed to be doing as good a job of occupying all of my mind as it was of overfilling my love canal. I was now off my feet for almost all of each rep, which meant that all my weight was pushing down on him, which in turn pressed his dick harder into me, and the sensations were- "Nnn-n-n-nnm.m.m.mmm?.." -fuck it! I give up. Screw the plan - what's so great about being in control, anyway? "-nnnn-n-n-n-n?." - Oh yeah-h-h?, -so fuckin' beautiful?. Right at this moment, I didn't care if my feet never touched the ground again, so long as Matt's amazing growing cock could always be there, filling me up---, and holding me up. I actually felt a little sorry for Matt. The guy just doesn't know what he's missing, and at his size, he probably never will.

Another little voice bubbled up into my consciousness. "Hey! Dick Pig! Y'er losin' it - it's time to finish what you started."

I didn't want to. Go away!

The voice was insistent. "Watch out! You're on the verge of-"

"NNGH! Sss-s-s-s?." Shit! That was too close. Matt had thrown one weight up so fast, and thrust so hard, that I'd nearly lost my grip on the bar. He'd also produced a very slight jolt of pain --just enough to wake me up. Luckily he then slowed down to a gentler pace, giving me time to get my self together once again.

As the next dumbbell started up, I pushed back against him and squeezed down--- not too hard, and held. The unexpected resistance made him hesitate and catch his breath, but he pushed through and completed the thrust in usual fashion. By focusing on squeezing my butt muscles this way and that, my mind was successfully ignoring the frantic commands my body - and in particular, my cock - was sending it: Ejaculate! Ejaculate! May-Day, May-Day! I was feeling pretty self-satisfied at this point over my ability to resist, even though my feet had long since left the ground, but now he was all the way in, and then some, and with a grunt that had nothing to do with the dumbbells, he somehow managed to shove his cock skyward even more -- he must have been up on the balls of his feet, leaning backward as he gave one final upward thrust of his pelvis, and gave me his strongest "Flex!" yet - "Nn-n-ya-a-a-a-h-h-h-h?," - and he held it as long as he could, his whole body rocking --, and rocking me with it, in an effort to keep his dick extra-taut for as long as he could. My balls were on the verge of letting go, but I couldn't let it happen -- I just couldn't - "nnNNNnn-n-n?" Hold on, body. - "ss-s-s-s-s?." Oh shit - be cool -- ignore it, just ig- " -sssnnnn?." I can't do this much longer.

He relaxed, and retreated. He was now pausing at the completion of each rep, giving me much-needed time to recover and prepare for the next one. His body tensed as he raised the other dumbbell, making his cock seem to get even more rigid. I squeezed noticeably harder this time, but he was ready now; he slowed a bit and groaned a little louder but didn't stop. I could tell, as I pushed back against him that he was putting more force into the push, and when his huge thigh pounded against mine, I imagined thick pillars of marble driving a somewhat smaller, but equally hard pillar farther into me than they ought - and again he flexed as he concentrated on the rock-hard peaks of his biceps that rippled as he strained for yet greater muscle contraction.

He voiced the effort: "-n-GAAaaa-a-a-n-n-n-nngh!" I felt his effort: "NNNGhhhh.., nnnnn!" I can do this (puff, puff), I can (puff, puff) do this?. He retreated. I made it! Maybe that was his last rep - he barely made that one (puff, puff) ? breathe deeply, I told myself; I did. Relax! I did. Better.

It was a longer rest, but he wasn't done; luckily I was ready for him. O.K., he's getting' all I got this time. He was going to blow his wad, and now! I would see to that! I purposely let him come in far enough that I could clamp down on the most sensitive part of him. Conveniently enough, the rep was really tough and he was moving slowly. Come on, - nnn-n-n-n?, come on-n-NNN-n-n-n-n-n?, (puff, puff) you're nearly there, a-a-a-and - Nng! - Got 'im! I didn't just clamp down hard - I tried my best to crush his damned dick, showing no mercy at all at this point. Sure enough, he stopped. The forward pressure didn't stop, but his forward motion did. Bingo! Heh, heh, heh. I thought fleetingly of The Magic Christian and could hear strains of, "If you want it, he-e-e-re it is?, come and get it?."

But the bastard was canny. He continued pushing unrelentingly for a full four to five seconds and then backed off ever so slightly. And here is where my body betrayed me with a totally natural, instinctive reaction - I had no input whatsoever: it relaxed a little---, just a little!, but that's exactly what he was expecting. I don't think he even waited to feel me relax - nobody's reaction time is that good. He just knew I'd let up, damn him! No sooner had he backed off then he thrust forward - driven by all the power of those massive, marble-hard thighs - assuming (knowing!) that I'd have let my guard down. My momentary victory was suddenly a shambles: his penetration had never been so deep, so fierce, or so?, so?, - total! Both of my feet came off the ground, and stayed there as he flexed his already "super-sized" cock to yet greater fullness, and without relaxing a bit added another, and another, and?. and I was gone.

- and I didn't care - the pleasure was simply too great to wish it away. Happy Gilmour's dejected admission of defeat when his girlfriend's hockey puck actually went into the goal seemed very appropriate just now: "Talk about your all-time backfire!" I laughed somewhere deep inside as the rest of me gave in to the euphoria of my greatest orgasm ever.

All too soon, reality was intruding upon my blissful state. The first feelings of which I became aware were that of being?, well, relaxed - of course, as well as very comfortable, satiated, secure, protected?. - wait a minute! - protected? I jerked to alertness as my eyes flashed open. My feet were flat on the steel platform (Well, that part's right.), though I was reclining slightly against a hard wall of muscle, securely held in place by two huge arms with the thickest biceps I could ever have imagined. My Master was standing comfortably with his legs well-spread, holding me carefully, almost lovingly, against his naked torso with, I finally realized, his very hard full erection still firmly in place within me.

"Hey, Little Fella. You OK?"

Little Fella? Oh fuck - just now I didn't care. "Say, Um-m-m?, didn't you - um-m-m??"

"Didn't I what?"

"Well, didn't you cum?"

"No - should I have?"

"Well?, it's just that----, I figured, you know, that you were ready is all?," I finished lamely.

He laughed. "Don't you worry, Little Fella - when I'm ready, you'll be the first to know it!" He chuckled some more, with a confident arrogance that irked me. I wanted to fuss at him, but what was the point? Besides I had no reason to complain after that experience. Pretty soon he pulled out and let go of me; -"?thought you might like to rest a bit."

Good idea. "Yeah, sure." I straightened up and turned to look at my assailant. I knew he must have grown a little, but I was unprepared for the magnitude of the change. "Jesus, fucking, Christ! -- I had no idea," I admitted aloud. He was now two or three inches taller, but his muscles! In my shocked state, the bastard looked twice as big as he had before! If this had been the guy who had invited me to come over a few hours ago, I would never have accepted. I knew nothing about him; I'd have feared for my life. Every muscle - and not just his bi's, were pumped way beyond a normal pump, but pumped without being ripped. Take a contest-ready Olympia contender, thicken up every muscle a bit -- well, OK, quite a bit, and then load him up with enough carbs to hide the veins and fill in the ruts a bit and you'd have Matt.

Hugely massive Matt.

In spite of that, every square inch of him looked as hard as his long, thick erection, whose tip was wavering teasingly just inches from my nipples. Helplessly I reached out with one hand, by-passing his cock which had temporarily lost my interest and let my fingers explore the wall of abs muscle behind it. I pushed on the uppermost ridge -- there was no give. I slid my fingers downward, hearing them Thump! dully one by one into each of the deep horizontal valleys, after which they continued down the length of his thigh: I'd never felt a harder muscle, and I wondered what his bi's must feel like.

I moved back a step or two in an effort to get the whole picture. How could I have thought him scary? He's beautiful! I must have spent more time gawking then I'd realized because when I finally looked up at his face, I saw him looking back at me with two raised eyebrows above a rather self-satisfied sort of smile as he said, "It looks like you really didn't need a break after all," shifting his eyes downward to my groin as he spoke. I looked down as well, and much to my surprise found my own dick looking back at me. Holy shit! I never rebound this fast! I glanced back up at him, surprise clearly evident on my face, I'm sure.

"I'm ready when you are," he said. To emphasize the point, he grasped his dick with one hand and spread around the precum that had been issuing forth as we stood there, thoroughly wetting the entire weapon. Still in something of a haze, I stepped back onto the platform, assumed the position and waited. He slipped up behind me, closely enough that I felt his cock against the small of my back. Obviously using one hand, he guided his missile carefully downward through my crack, taking the time to waggle it up and down slightly as he pressed in gradually deeper even as I pushed back into him to fully experience the sensations he was causing. Once in the final position, he firmly enveloped my hips in his huge hands, and then with a soft, even, sensuously breathy voice gave me fair warning: "One--, two--, and--." We both pushed. "Hhnnnn," I said. "Oh, yeah-h-h-h?," he said, continuing his forward progress until fully implanted.. He'd removed the platform on which he'd stood earlier, so my feet now touched down at the bottom of each thrust. He then readjusted his position, reached over and picked up the next heavier dumbbells -- hundred-pounder's was my guess. I felt him pull out to the tip and tense his body as he began his second set.

He kept his motions slow and deliberate -- both of them, and since I did not, during this session, need to give most of my attention to avoiding premature ejaculation, I could focus fully on doing what I came here for. Looking back afterwards, I'd have to say that I probably gave as good as I got, if not as much, but with a dick the size of his, he must be used to that.

Things went well for a few minutes, and in spite of the constant assault on my senses -- and my butt, I figured I was pushing his dick's buttons about as well as anyone could, given the size of his weapon?., excepting of course another behemoth even larger than him--- "SSSssss--." Oh God, an image of that scene just flashed through my mind---, a picture of Matt on his knees, riding a huge black muscle freak with a sumptuous, black muscle-ass that was gripping Matt's happy, needy dick with a force that would send lesser mortals to the E.R.-- "-ss-s-s-n-n-nnnnnn?" Holy shit! How can I be this close to cumming? C'mon, man?, blank out that picture; get back to reality?.

I regained control and happily accepted the apparent sounds of satisfaction that were escaping my partner's throat as proof of my success. In fact, I was even beginning to feel a little bit cocky. Heh, heh -- it's my show now; it was just a matter of-- "NNNG!" What the fuck?? "Nnn?, ssSSsss-s-s?." What the hell just happened, I wondered. The pressure on my fuck chute was suddenly enormous, but something else was decidedly weird - familiar somehow, yet weird - Oh Shit! I'm up in the air again! He'd been standing behind me working those damned dumbbells - and me - with his legs considerately spread wide so that my feet remained on the platform the whole time, allowing me a solid base from which to do my work. No longer. All he'd done was stand up straight - and then, with an all-conquering victory grunt- "nnnnNNNG!" - forced both biceps to do his bidding by simultaneously curling both arms at the same time as he rocked, almost rocketed, his groin forward and upward, carrying me well free of any secure footing. I felt him crunch every muscle in his body, including the one inside of me, as he held both huge dumbbells - and me - aloft. I was suddenly helpless.

He held the full body flex until he'd lowered both weights?, relaxed, and got back to his normal routine - one at a time. There was, however, one difference: he was still rep'ing two weights - one was a dumbbell; the other was me. I'd watch one weight move slowly downward as he rocked his cock and me in the same direction; then I'd turn my head and watch the other weight, along with the massive forearm driving it, move powerfully and decisively upward as his muscular cock drove into me with equal power and decisiveness.

Up and down, back and forth, the session continued. Sensing that this might continue for a bit, I tried to regain my composure, as well as my technique, but without much success. It's not easy to function properly when your only contact with solid ground - beyond the one in your ass - is through your grip on a barbell. I tried. I never could get much going; I was erratic at best. Nnnn-n-n.. - come on, baby - grab 'im good. (puff, puff) ?nnNNnn-n-n?, shit! I can't- nnNG - Damn! How does he expect me to- My thoughts got cut short: "Hnnn! Gimme more, fella. Uhnnn-n-n. C'mon - work that ass for me."

Damn him! What the fuck does he think I'm trying to do! I'd like to see him try this out and see how he- "NNNGH!" Oh fuck - where's the damned bar? His dick forced me up so high that my hands pulled free of the bar. I flailed about for it on the descent, found it, but lost it again on the next rep. Fuck! He's growing again! My ass agreed. I already knew I'd be spending all day Saturday in bed watching old movies as my innards recovered from tonight's assault. Probably Sunday as well.

He continued this way for a dozen or so reps, but I began to wonder why he kept it up. The way I figured it, there wasn't much fun in it for him because his cock wasn't sliding around within me: we both moved up and down together; no friction there. I guess he realized that too, because he once again spread his legs way out and even bent his knees a bit until my feet touched down. The incredible pressure on my inside mercifully abated, and I could think once again.

Matt stopped for a short rest - maybe it was just for my benefit - who knows; but soon he resumed, and so did I. The constant intense stimulation that I was getting courtesy of the XXL-dick coming at me from behind was speeding up my recovery, and my own dick was harder and more receptive than I had any right to expect so soon after my earlier substantial ejaculation - which was great, except for one thing. It was easy to get lost in the haze of sensation that was produced each time he entered me with such slow, deliberate thoroughness and then left in the same exquisitely careful, gradual way. Consequently it was tough to keep my mind on my job. There I'd be, floating in a tub of erotic sensation, vocalizing every feeling: "-nnn-n-n-n-n?, oh yea-a-a-h-h-h-h? nnn-n-n, ?awww, f-u-u-u-c-k (puff, puff), -hnnn-n-ah-h-h-h-h?." Then I'd think, Oh, shit - I'm forgetting to- (so I'd squeeze up high, down low, strongly, with subtlety) -"hsss-nnn-n-n?., aw-w-ww yea-h-h-hhh?." Man, I hope he's enjoy- "Nng-,-nnn." -ing this as much as I- "-ooo-o-o-o-o.., y-e-a-h-h-hh-sss-s-s-s-s?"

It occurred to me, somewhere in all of that, that the Big Guy still hadn't shot is wad as yet, and I wondered why. Was it me? Wasn't I doing my bit sufficiently well to nudge him over the edge? That was something I found hard to believe, and certainly didn't want to believe. Sure, the size of his fuck-tool made it harder for me grasp it well, but this hadn't been a very long session either - intense, to be sure, but not terribly long, so I was still a little ways from being worn out. All of his body English seemed to relate to his damned dumbbells, so I hadn't been able to read his reactions very well. Or maybe he just had buckets of endurance and just liked to hold it all in for one major blowout. He certainly had plenty of endurance in those biceps of his -- how many reps with those hundred-pounder's had he already done? Then I remembered: he'd grown some, and those mothers were by now probably small potatoes to him. In any case, the lack of feedback was irritating the crap out of me, so I tried, in between moments of heavy breathing and of bracing myself as his thighs repeatedly propelled me towards the weighted barbell, to get some commentary going in that direction. I rarely say much at such moments - it rarely seems appropriate, but I needed to know.

Just as I began to talk, there was the soft click of the room door closing, but between Matt's strong, repetitive breathing and my own moaning and grunting, neither of us heard it.

"Matt?"

"-u-un-n-n-nnnNNNG! Yeah?"

"(puff, puff) hisss-s-s-ssss? -Thanks."

He relaxes - "For?"

(I'm suddenly busy sucking air): " SSSsssss..oh yeah-h-h-h-h?., uh-h, for this fucking amazing ride!"

"Nnnnn-NNN! - Oh!" the dumbbell starts down - again.

Can't give up yet? "Yeah - it's getting a little raw in there-(NNNNG!) - and yes, you're bouncing me around- (Uunnh!) a bit, but it feels pretty terrific!" If it feels so damned good, why the fuck are you talking? my little voice asked me. Shut the fuck up, I responded.

He surprised me with his answer: "Yeah, I know what you mean-nnn-n-n-N-NN! - there's nothing like a fat dick up your butt - once you get used to it, of course-Nnnn-n-nn?.." He'd lowered the weight.

"Oh?" I was surprised; how would he know? I figured he hadn't had much experience at my end. From his reply, it was clear that he understood my surprise.

"Oh yeah - I know that feeling very well." He talked as he continued his curls. "- and in fact, it's hard to say which position I like better, but I'm trying to keep this up as long as I can because I don't get to play this end very often."

"Oh-h???" Why the hell not? No one's about to argue with you if that's what you want!

"And I sure don't get to do THIS!" He powered up both dumbbells AND his cock, pulled back a little and contracted every muscle in his body and held the pose - and me! I yelped - "NNNGH-H-H!!" His huge thrust had once again lifted me totally off of the platform and wrenched my hands off of the bar. I was lying against his chest with my tailbone resting on the base of his giant cock, my legs stretched out to the front in mid-air. He took the time for several consecutive flexes before relaxing and lowering me.

He paused long enough for me to catch my breath and think. What he said didn't make any sense - he could damned well do exactly as he pleased! I had to ask: "You don't usually top?"

"Nope." He stated up again.

"Why not?"

"My partner won't let me."

Sorry - that didn't compute; I couldn't picture it. Wha-a-a-t?!?

He hadn't missed a rep - or a thrust; I was back to bending over and holding onto the bar, and had turned my head around out of surprise to look at Matt, but he pumped me hard, throwing me into the bar so I had to face forward again and focus on maintaining my grip. "How could he-?" - I managed.

He laughed. "What do you think? He's bigger'n me - that's how." That must have been a source of some frustration to him because he accentuated the 'bigger' with a bigger SLAM, which propelled me a few inches up his cock. I couldn't think of what to say at this point, and to be truthful, I wasn't much feeling like talking anyway, but suddenly my big friend had turned garrulous: "Yeah, he knows what he wants," - he pulled out fast, and then forced the weight up in one powerful motion, "and he uses his size to get it - nnNNGH! - Yeah!" His body turned to rock as he contracted everything while holding the weight on high. He started to sound a bit frustrated now. "Whenever I argue for equal time he just wrestles me to the bed, or the rug, or the shower floor, -- whatever-," he slowly lowered the bell as he pulled out, "-nnnnnn-n-n?." Once at the bottom, he continued: "-and tells me to 'keep on dreaming' as he takes control with his muscles?, uhnnn-n-n..sssSSSSS!" - he'd forced the weight up hard once again, "- and his huge fucking dick!" He took a couple of breaths at the top of the rep. "I can't win, but once in a while he takes pity on me and lets me switch positions."

I wasn't about to express an opinion on the matter and just offered an understanding, "Hmmpf!"

He concentrated his way through a few more reps while I concentrated on sticking to the bar and not cumming, which, I realized with some amazement, was suddenly a distinct probability. It didn't help that Matt was punctuating his commentary with his own sounds of arousal, which made it doubly hard to keep my own under control. He got to the top of his next rep: "SSss-ahh-h-h-h?. " He paused. "But I'll tell you a secret," he continued in a quieter, secretive sort of voice as he slowly lowered the dumbbell and retracted his dick. "I kinda like it when he acts like that - uhnn-n-n-nnn?. when he forces me to ---" He took a deep breath at the bottom and started back up: "nnnNNNn.., to do things his way - SSsss-s-s-s?. As a matter of fact, it's a real - nngh! - turn-on for me -SSSssss- " - he was at the top - " and to be honest, I hope he never changes." He flexed himself, and then relaxed a bit, allowing himself to enjoy the sensations of the moment: "Mmmmmmmm." It sounded like he was enjoying the feeling of filling me up and expanding my insides as much as I was. He continued; "In fact, I think that's one of the reasons I love him so much." Hmmmm - now there's something I can really relate to, I thought to myself.

I heard him take a breath before starting the next rep, but then I heard another sound as well -- a third voice in the room, a deep, resonant voice, whispering rather loudly into Matt's ear: "I'll be sure to keep that in mind."

Matt had been so focused on curling his weights, and I on the effects his XXL-serving of hard manmeat was having on my innards that neither of us had heard his long-time lover, Vince, come into the room. Vince had pressed his hands into the indentations on the sides of Matt's ass as he spoke, totally shocking my oversized mate. Matt yelled and snapped forward painfully hard into me. The unexpected voice scared the crap out of me as well, and it was only because I'd been holding on so firmly that I didn't lose control and fall across the bar, and it was only because Matt had been crunching his biceps at the top of the rep that he was able to keep from dropping the heavy dumbbell.

"Jesus Christ, Vince -- don't do that! What if I dropped this thing?"

"I knew you wouldn't"

"That's not the point; I could've-"

"Who's your little friend," Vince interrupted?

There was that word again. Who the hell was this guy? I'd finally recovered enough to think to look around. Matt was holding steady now, so I had time to look back over my shoulder, and there (Gulp! HolyFuck!!), looming behind my very large Friday-night fuck-mate, my new Master, -- and looming was the only word to use here -- looming behind?, and over, and above, and around Matt's very significant physical presence was a yet larger version -- a larger naked version, of the same. From my view of him, I guessed that he had two or three inches on Matt's present, taller than normal height. At the moment, he was reaching his arms around Matt's rib cage, and I could already tell that he had two or three inches on Matt in the biceps category as well - with forearms to match. Where the hell do they make people this big, I wondered.

I tuned back into the conversation: "I met him at the gym, and-"

"-and have I been neglecting you," asked Vince in a very deep, sultry sort of voice - one with a definite tone of menace in it?

"Of course not, you meathead, but you know that once in while I-"

"You 'bout ready?"

"Huh? Oh! - Yeah. More than ready."

"Well good, because I am, too," he said, rather unnecessarily, as he pushed his own, more than substantial fuck pole lengthwise, deep into the cleft of Matt's backside. Matt had slid mostly out of me, but Vince's action made him jump once again, jacking himself forward and fully back into me once again, saying, "-SSSSSSS! -- Oh God - nnSSSsss-s-s-s?, nnn-n-n-n?., Jesus, Vince, don't move -- that feels so damned good!"

"I guess you missed me after all." He slid himself up and down. Matt inhaled slowly, savoring the feeling. "Oh-h-h yeah! Always."

"In that case, let's finish this off the right way: lose the iron!"

Matt racked the bells. I looked around to see what was going on just in time to see Vince take one of the biggest weights from the rack -- hundred 'n fifty's maybe? Whatever it was, it was no match for the forearm that yanked it upwards. I heard Vince tell Matt, "You're gonna need to pull my dick down so I can get in," and then I was pushed downward as Matt leaned forward, bending over my back as he reached behind to guide his lover's cock home. Vince must've wasted no time getting comfortable because almost immediately, Matt's thighs were shoving me forward. He quickly wrapped both arms around my mid-section as we both moved gradually towards the bar in response to Vince's slow cock-press. Matt was fully in me from the start; we were locked firmly together. Consequently Vince was pushing us both forward as one, and I groaned with pleasure as we moved because I swore that I could feel Vince's cock sliding up inside of me. Matt and I moaned together as Vince fucked us both at the same time. Vince slammed home the last two inches; we both yelped. In my case it took me by surprise and I darned near shot my steadily building load just that fast. I heard Vince let out a long sigh of satisfaction, and then after a moment's quiet, he chuckled lightly, and with a tone of voice that said: "This is the way it should be -- you know it, and I know it," said simply, "Home, Sweet Home, Babe."

How strange: that's exactly what I was thinking.

I'd barely had time for that thought to register when I somehow felt Vince slowly pulling himself out; I unashamedly moaned the loss as he withdrew, and whimpered slightly, asking him not to go, even knowing he'd be back almost immediately. Matt's mouth was near my ear, and I could hear him echoing my feelings and desires. We both rocked backwards to prolong the sensation of exquisite fullness, even to the extent of clamping down - both of us - on his very firm member in an effort to resist, but he didn't stop.

I could feel the broadly-flared head of his cock blocking the exit, and I could feel it flex and enlarge a bit as Vince tensed his muscles and started to curl. He took about five seconds to raise the dumbbell and an equal time to fill us up again. We both sucked in our breath in a long, loud, mutual, "Hisss-s-s-s" for the duration of his upward passage. It was by now quite clear to me that this new muscle-freak's cock was scaled-up in size to match the rest of him. I was very glad to have Matt as a buffer between me and that Monster Dick -- I knew I'd never be able to handle it, but as it was, I felt no pain, but only glorious, breath-taking sensations with every move he and it made.

Once again, Vince announced his arrival at the limits of our fuck chute: we both grunted loudly as we clamped down hard on our own internal shut-off valves to stave off our ejaculation once again.

Was every stroke going to be like this? - 'cause if so, this fun little game was going to end really, really soon. Vince had gotten quickly into his rhythm and was now alternating arms with precise timing. He stopped trying to blast out new territory with each rep, which helped, but still Matt was holding my ass mashed firmly into his groin, trying his level best to avoid any friction between him and me lest it should end this session almost before it had begun. Vince seemed to sense our predicament because he kept his movements slow and predictable, pausing for a considerable - and considerate, five to ten seconds after each withdrawal to give us time to cool down a bit - always maintaining a thick, pulsating presence, of course, just inside the back door. Once he paused half-way up, and half-way in, and 'jiggled' himself back and forth just a little; after we both responded with a well-synchronized "nnn-n-n.., nnnnn?, nNNNnn-n-n-n-ng," I heard a soft, self-satisfied chuckle before he continued on his way; he probably knew that Matt was well-satisfied to have Vince lead the way on this night.

Several reps into Vince's session, it occurred to me that since his arrival, I'd been mostly just along for the ride -- along with Matt, of course, courtesy his life-partner. I tried to get back to doing what I did best, but a lot of my energy was going into supporting Matt, who still had two arms firmly clenched around my ribcage, and then when I did manage to get a few butt contractions going?, well - it was just weird: Matt and I were so tightly linked that when I crunched my butt as Vince filled us up once again, it felt like I was squeezing my own dick ---

- my own warm, wet, tightly-clenched dick. Wait a minute, I thought, my hands are on the bar. I looked down at myself, and there was the very visible, shiny red head of my own cock protruding from Matt's meaty fist that was now clamped firmly around the shaft. It took me a long time to understand what exactly I was seeing because I'd never noticed the transition of Matt's grasp from my waist to my cock, and I watched with child-like wonder as Vince pulled back and my cock disappeared into Matt's fist -- as one of the monster dumbbells moved gracefully downward through my peripheral vision off to one side. I felt my dick flex, perhaps in an effort to fill the void left by Vince's withdrawal, providing a fresh supply of precum into Matt's hand, offering me easy passage on my next trip up through his firmly-clamped fist, powered by the force of Vince's next stroke -- a very strong stroke- "Gaaahhh-h-h-h.., NNnnnnn?., ssss-" Don't cum --oh please -- not yet!

Suddenly the strokes began coming faster, and as that happened, Matt, who had been standing with his legs spread apart stood straight up -- one arm easily and forcibly cradling me into his stomach, the other maintaining its hold on my dick, as my feet lifted well clear of the ground. "SSSssss-," Oh shit! - I didn't know he could get any deeper, "NNNnnn-n-n?" Then, very quickly, he was half-way out, and back in, and out, and?., "Hey - wait a minute! Something is different. Oh! - that really IS Matt moving in and out," even though I wasn't moving a muscle - "Wait a minute, how can he??" I knew Vince must be thrusting because from out of the corner of my eye I could see the dumbbells flying up and down, but it wasn't Vince that I was feeling. I craned my head down and around -- Ah! While holding me quite firmly in place, Matt was rocking his pelvis like a late fifty's rock star on acid, getting all the internal friction his dick demanded of him, and yet I could tell from his more or less continuous string of straining noises - "nnnNNGG - Nnn-h-h-nnn, ngh! - nnnNNN!" - that in spite of the pounding he was giving his dick, courtesy my ass, he was also working hard, at the same time, to avoid cumming.

And if he came now, it wasn't because of my doing: right now I really was just along for the ride. I mean, it could hardly be otherwise right? Think about it: if I'm sitting on a guy's cock and my feet - or knees - are planted on firm ground, or mattress, I'm at my best, but when I'm dangling from some giant's forearm and my feet are swinging about in the air, well?, those aren't exactly ideal conditions, and just now I felt useless. But what Matt was doing to me felt great, so - What the hell! - I just gave up and enjoyed every sensation I was getting.

By this time, Vince was starting to grunt from his reps - and getting louder with each lift, and I noticed something else: Matt was moving in a new way. I looked down. On the next thrust, I saw his heels come off the ground enough that he was briefly on his toes - only his toes! Back down, up, and there it was again, and then next time, "NNGH! Holy shit! I'm gonna-Sssss.., Jesus! What the hell was that?? I tried to stay aware during the next surge. My eyes stayed open just long enough to see that - "He's clear off the ground! - NNNGHhhhhh! Hnnnnnn?., please wait - just for a second so I can catch my-"

I felt Vince tense up hard; he started to raise both dumbbells, slowly at first, his groan starting out loud and getting louder, but holding back on his thrust. Then, the rep nearly complete, he crunched both arms quickly as HARD as he could as he thrust into us in one quick, body-filling movement, initiating a chain reaction of orgasms such as I could not have imagined. He rocked back and forth as he shot, accentuating each one with a new flex even bigger and harder than the one before, blood rushing from some unknown source to feed his engorging bi's and his volcano'ing cock.

His well-timed flexes must have stimulated some part of my brain into action, for I realized at some point that I had once again become a participant - and my butt was aching from squeezing Matt so hard for so long. Matt was doing a great job working my cock, too, and whether by design or by chance, two of my shots got me square in the face. My manly ego got a boost from the unexpected power of my dick, and I would have laughed with joy over it, but other emotions were too much in control, so I couldn't. Instead I simply gave in to the pleasure of the moment and rode out the event to its conclusion -- a very happy benefactor of Vince's power and virility.

* * * * *

Afterwards we sat around drinking and snacking and chatting, and for me, watching --watching the two naked muscle-giants lounge about and slowly shrink back down to their normal, but still huge size, while at the same time wondering if all of this was real. Was I just in some kind of Altered State of mind? I decided that I didn't care if I was; the experience was very, very real to me, and incredibly beautiful. And yet in all the talk, the subject of the incredible experience I'd just had never came up. I suppose, for them, it was just another evening of the "same old, same old?," but for me?, well, I was still?, understandably I think, a bit stunned and wasn't actually doing much of the talking. I was expecting, at the very least, to hear Matt say something nice about my performance, assuming that that was why he brought me here and that he'd appreciated my input, of only just a little, but no - not a word. No "Nice job." Not even a "Thanks."

Zip. Zero. Nada. Nicht.

Fuck'im, I thought.

Then I reminded myself that really what he was after was the chance to be the Fuck-er and not the Fuck-ee, and that he had taken full advantage of that opportunity, and I really couldn't fault him for it. Still, after all of that, it was depressing to think that I was just a means to an end for him, and that my sexual-know-nothing lifting buddy Eddie would have been an equally god receptacle for his dick. Ah well, screw it. So he's a self-indulgent ingrate; it was still a great night. No regrets.

It still wasn't very late, and it was clear I wasn't being asked to stay over. It was also clear that my knew acquaintances wanted to be alone and that it was time for me to leave. So, having said our Good-bye's at the front door, I was starting to walk away, with my ego somewhat deflated because Matt seemed so uncaring about my significant efforts to give him a very special evening; but at the same time I was wondering - OK, to be honest -- I was drooling, mentally, about exactly what sorts of delicious things those two very hunky, very horny muscle giants might to do each other's bodies when left alone together, and wished that I could somehow be a part of it. I thought I heard my own name slice through my daydream but ignored it. There it was again.

"HEY, JACK!"

Oops! I turned around. "Oh. Sorry," I apologized. "What's up?"

Matt was wearing a huge, beautiful smile such as I hadn't seen all evening. "You were right -- it wasn't just empty talk."

Coming out of the blue like this, in my day-dream state, I had no comprehension. "Wha-a-t?"

"At the gym. You said you were for real. You were right. You were terrific. Thanks."

It took me a little time to shift into the right gear. I had to go from feeling like something of a failure tonight, and thinking of this guy as an arrogant, ungrateful jerk, to exactly the opposite. As my mind was clearing, I formed a "Thank you" of sorts in my head, but before the words came out, my brief spurt of satisfaction and my gratification at having pleased a truly demanding customer, turned quickly to an anger that was perhaps as irrational as it was, I think, understandable.

"In a strained but carefully controlled voice, I asked, "What did you say?"

"I said you were as good as your word."

How does one react to all of this? I reacted badly, I'm afraid. I started taking long strides back up the sidewalk, blurting out exactly what I was feeling as I walked. I started talking in a normal tone, but my voice got rapidly louder, each word being enunciated with great clarity: "You Son-Of-A-Bitch! We're in there fucking away for well over an hour, and here I am, working my tail off -- quite literally -- to make this a great night for you, giving you the benefit of every bit of experience I've ever had, the benefit of a hard, strong, weight-trained ass, and what do I hear from you? Nothing! Not One, Damned!, Fucking!, thing! An hour and a half and nothing but your damned grunting and your stupid demands: "Squeeze me harder, my Little Fuck Toy," I mimed. "Well Fuck that, Man!"

By this time I was barely two feet in front of him, screaming directly into his face. "And while I'm at it, Fuck you, too!"

Vince was right behind him; he was wearing an even bigger smile than Matt. It did not help; I kept on going. "You couldn't even find time to sneak in a little, 'Feels good, Man' or something? It never occurred to you that a little feedback might be appreciated - not to mention useful, maybe? Fuck it! I'll go somewhere where I'll be more appreciated next time."

I turned around and strode quickly away without looking back.

"Jack!"

"Forget it!" I kept walking away.

"Next Friday. Same time."

That stopped me. I turned back towards the house, my face a nasty, angry glare. Matt had a very big, very confident, very self-satisfied smile on his face. I did not. "Fuck you!" I said, and walked away once again. I heard the door close.

I grumbled to myself about the night's events as I walked, mostly about failing my Prime Directive: to take over leading the action soon into the evening. I stopped walking. On the other hand, it was probably the hottest night I've ever had, and as it turns out, Matt was pretty well satisfied with my part in the evening's affairs, so all in all, I suppose it was a very good night. I resumed walking with more confidence and bounce in my stride.

Was I still pissed? You bet.

Would I be back next week?

You bet.


The End