Muscle Men, page 11
“You liked watching me fight,” he remarked. He was looking at the pole beneath my towel extending higher and higher. “It turned you on?” he asked, as if not wanting to make the assumption. Humility in the handsome is a rare treat and the ultimate turn-on in my opinion. My shaft shot to its full height beneath the towel.
I managed to conceal the tremor in my voice. “Yes.”
Mason began to blush. “I like watching you, too.”
I was confused. “What do you mean?”
“I’ve seen you around campus. You’re so…cute. You probably never noticed, but I sit behind you in lectures. One row back and three to the left. Sometimes I follow you after class, at least until you get to the turnoff to your dorm. You’ve always got your head in a book, even when you’re walking, do you know that?”
I nodded, not sure what to say. I was embarrassed, more nervous than ever. Nobody had ever admitted to watching me before. I didn’t think anyone had a reason to. “Why would you watch me?”
Mason shrugged coyly. “I don’t know. Because you’re not like the other guys I hang around with. You’re not like me.”
“Opposites attract.” The words came out of my mouth before I even realized it.
Mason smiled and I could see his heart skip a beat beneath his massive, trimmed chest. “Is that another one of the laws of physics?”
“No, that’s one of the laws of love.” Ouch! I grimaced at my painfully corny one-liner, but Mason just smiled at me adoringly for having said it. Suddenly I suspected somewhere beneath Mason’s hunky, fist-hurling façade was a fan-flapping, eyelid-fluttering, heart-swooning Jane Austen fan.
He was looking into my eyes now, occasionally glancing down just to watch my lips move. “I wish we could sit an exam for those laws.” His face was closer now, moving closer still.
“It’s supposed to be the other way around.” I was whispering now, he was so near to me. “You seem so popular and…and perfect. I’m supposed to be the one watching you. You’re not supposed to know I even exist. Are you just doing this to pass the exam?”
Mason shook his head.
“I don’t get it,” I breathed. “Science is the pursuit of knowledge through experimentation and reason. I need a reason for this. Why do you like me?”
“I can’t give you one. Not everything is science.”
With that he placed his sore, swollen lips on mine and gently kissed me.
Instantly I wanted more. My tongue parted his lips, opening the passage for both our tongues to explore each other’s mouths. He took my jaw in one hand and unwrapped my towel as best he could with the other. I instinctively went for his tightly packed gym shorts, rubbing at the bulge trapped inside. He gasped through our kiss and pulled his mouth away from mine to say, “I’ve wanted this for so long.”
Suddenly I found my courage. I grabbed the back of his head, keeping my adoring alpha male close and said, “Shut up. You sound like a line from my little sister’s diary. Just shut up and fuck me.”
Suddenly Mason’s bruised and battered body rose off the bed, large and looming, and he seized me around the waist. He pulled me to my feet and my erection stabbed him in the stomach. He stole a kiss, then spun me about and dropped to his knees behind me.
I felt instantly vulnerable, blind, unable to see what was happening, uncertain of what I was doing here and yet somehow…safe.
The next thing I felt were his hands parting the round cheeks of my ass to make way for his hot, moist tongue.
My eyelids fluttered, I couldn’t stop them.
Air slithered from my lungs and I didn’t want it to return. I held my breath as that tongue slid up and down my sweaty, hungry crack, pushing against the ring of my anus, flickering inside me briefly, tauntingly, before pulling out again.
I heard him stand.
I gave a long overdue inhale and began breathing again, my head light and spinning.
Mason’s hands slid away from my asscheeks and gripped me by my hips then swiveled me around to face him. He pressed his lips against mine, pushed his tongue inside my mouth and I could taste the sweet yearning of my own ass. My cock was pressed against his hard stomach, and the bulge inside his gym shorts was nudging my balls. I could sense he was in pain, aching to be set free yet waiting for me to have the pleasure of unlocking that cage.
Desire overcame my fears, and I was the one to drop to my knees this time.
My happily quivering fingers hooked the elastic waist of his gym shorts and pulled them down, gradually.
It was like unraveling a treasure map, following the hirsute trail to a beautifully manicured island of dark pubic hair. I could smell the sweet scent of his manly sweat mingling with the aroma of cum, near and inevitable. The plump stem of his shaft appeared, and suddenly my desire to see this cub in all his glory was simply too much to bear.
I stripped the gym shorts down the length of his strapping, hairy thighs and his dick flung itself through the air, missing my face by an inch to slap against his trimmed abs.
If Mason was my muscleman, then this was truly his musclecock .
It was massive, thick and sculpted, bursting with veins and heaving with confidence.
It moved up and down in front of my face, as though waiting for my lips to give it guidance, to hold it still and take it in my mouth. I opened my lips, my tongue reaching out, desperate to taste its sweetness. But before I could satiate myself, Mason took my head in his large hands and pulled me to my feet once more.
The bed was behind me and I could feel him backing me ever closer to it. I decided to taunt him in return; I didn’t want to give him that much control, at least not yet. As he tried to maneuver me backward I quickly twisted the two of us around, taking Mason by sweet surprise and forcing him onto the bed.
Mason landed flat on his back on the mattress and courageously I tried to straddle him.
That’s when he turned the tables once more, rolling quickly onto his side, flipping me onto the mattress. Side by side we continued kissing, elbows and knees and cocks digging into the bed and each other.
In a willing tussle he turned me flat on my back. My stiff cock smacked flat against my stomach and Mason smiled and licked his lips. I took his jaw gently in my hand and kissed his chin. At the same time, he took hold of my cock, low at the shaft, then pulled away from my lips and moved down my body. He crouched over me and pointed my pulsating dick toward his wet open mouth. Then, without another moment’s hesitation, he devoured me whole.
His mouth was wide and hot, the most slippery, sublime haven my cock had ever known. His tongue navigated me around inside him, manipulating me, teasing me, sucking and releasing.
I took his bountiful black locks in both hands to steer the thrust and lunge of his hungry quest. I heard myself moan and in a reflex move Mason picked up the pace, his head bobbing faster and faster up and down my cock.
I could feel the tension welling inside me. The muscles in my hips and buttocks trembled—partly from lack of use, partly from anticipation—as they rose up to meet Mason’s plunging lips. He knew as well as I did that at this pace, I wasn’t going to last long.
My balls began to surge up into my body, but Mason denied them their retreat, grabbing them and pulling them down hard.
A bolt of pain, of sheer ecstasy, rocked my body. I cried out and lurched forward, my balls caught in Mason’s fist, my cock still ramming in and out of his mouth.
Suddenly the muscles in my back clenched tight and arched and with Mason’s head held firmly in my hands the fire, the rush, the explosion filled his mouth, my hot currents coursing into the warm wet tunnel of his throat, swirling around the head of my cock, turning his mouth into a well of cum.
Mason swallowed hard and fast, gulping down one, two, three spasmodic jets of my sweet cum.
I panted and groaned as Mason released my cock from his mouth before he choked. I watched my dick exit his mouth glistening with saliva and cum, even stiffer and thicker and bigger than when it went in. I watched Mason’s mouth gasping for air, my cum overflowing from his lips and oozing onto his strong, stubble-shaded chin.
There I lay panting and moaning and spent for a moment longer until Mason stopped my groans by shoving his thumb and index finger into my mouth. I sucked on them like a starving child ravaging a nipple, unrestrained and impossible to satisfy. I sucked ravenously, as though drawing new energy from them. Then Mason pulled his mauled fingers from my mouth and replaced them with his tongue.
We lay together, him on top of me, his rigid, furry stomach pressed against mine. His bulging, bulbous cock nudged against my drained balls and he thrust it sharply into my tender sac—perhaps a little too sharply—for I flinched hard. In a reflex response I shoved my hefty hunk right off the top of me and over the edge of the bed.
Mason rolled and hit the floor beside the bed with a loud thud…before laughing hysterically, achingly.
I leaned over quickly and looked down, embarrassed and concerned. All I could think to say was, “Fuck! Sorry!”
Mason wheezed and chuckled. “I guess that’s the law of gravity.”
“What goes up must come down,” I said, shrugging.
“Not yet it doesn’t.” Mason reached up, grabbed hold of my forearm and yanked me down on the floor with him.
I landed on top of him awkwardly, forcing a pained grunt and more laughter out of him. We kissed again, more fiercely than before, our playful antics now turning passionately rough.
Without taking his lips off mine, Mason’s hand felt its way up to the bedside table, opened the drawer, rummaged inside and pulled out a condom. Only then did he tear his mouth away from mine so he could bite open the wrapper, but before he could do anything with it I took the condom from him, then bravely ran my tongue all the way down his body. My lips were tickled by the hair on his chest, then his stomach. When my tongue reached the stem of his throbbing cock, I took the condom and slid it onto Mason’s shaft with my fist.
Mason had already found the lube in the drawer and was passing it to me.
I squeezed a glob into my palm.
Lying flat on his back, Mason simply watched from the floor, his large stiff penis growing even harder at the sight of me massaging it with a lubed fist.
I squeezed more lubricant onto the tips of my fingers then circled the rim of my anus, gliding my index finger deep inside myself to wet my passage, relaxing the muscles. It felt good, but I was ready for something better—and bigger.
I took Mason’s cock in my hand and straddled him, positioning myself over his shaft before nuzzling the head against my crack. The bulbous head pushed my asscheeks apart, eager to make its entry. It gave rise to my own cock, now suddenly rejuvenated and once more seeking attention. It grew in length and girth quickly, hardening fast and enthusiastically slapping against my stomach once more, sprinkling a few dewdrops of precum against my tensed stomach muscles…or were they leftover beads from the last orgasm? It was hard to tell. All I knew was, Mason could wait no longer. He moaned impatiently.
Taking a deep breath, I sank myself down onto his cock.
Mason rolled his head back against the floorboards, eyes shut, mouth open wide to let a loud groan of absolute pleasure escape.
At the same time I began to slide up and down his pole, slowly at first, the muscles of my warm wet ass gradually loosening, enjoying themselves, sweeping up and down with the motion of fucking, like seaweed moving with the ebb and flow of the tide.
But I wanted the tide to move faster.
I began sliding up and down Mason’s cock harder, heavier. No, not sliding; grinding.
Mason began to reciprocate, thrusting his pelvis up off the floor as I came down to meet him, then pulling back as I lifted away. The movement transformed us into a well-lubed machine.
The air from my lungs came accompanied with a noise now—a soft, low moan with each breath. “Ahhh…ohhh…ahhh…”
My stiff, bobbing cock seemed to be floating free, out on its own, unattended. Occasionally it snapped upward and smacked my stomach. Other times it bounced so hard with the rhythm that it slapped against Mason’s fur-lined abs, making muffled drumbeats. Mason reined it in by seizing the shaft in one hand. He began stroking it. His palm was dry but my meat was still moist with his saliva. As the pace of penetration grew more and more intense, his fist squeezed harder and pounded my cock faster.
My groans grew louder.
“Ahhh…I…I’m…cu…”
Mason pushed himself deeper and faster into me.
I rode him harder. Harder still.
He grunted, teeth clenched, as though he was back in the fight, determined to win.
I panted and groaned, words still trying to push their way out of my heaving lungs.
“I’m cu…I’m cum…”
Before I could spit it out, the head of my cock bloomed large and purple and its slit beaded up with another gleaming ball of precum, ready to do some spitting of its own.
My second orgasm in only a few minutes was even bigger and more powerful than the first. As my eyes closed and my mouth fell open and my head rolled back, I fired a blast of cum that soared over Mason’s ribbed stomach and landed on the muscle of his chest, catching in the web of hair coating his meaty pecs.
As soon as the sizzling jism made contact, Mason’s balls opened their own floodgates. He arched his back high, pushing himself as far into me as he could. Still groaning and rocking with ecstasy, I pressed my asscheeks down hard against his pelvis, eating up the entire length of his cock.
I felt Mason’s head high inside me.
I felt the temperature skyrocket as the head of his condom bulged with an immense load of boiling hot cum.
Mason’s body jolted once, twice, and again and again, each time shooting another pulse of cum from his shaft.
It triggered a second load of cum from my own cock, this time with less trajectory and more spent pain, the white spool landing in a shining loop across Mason’s tight, hairy belly.
I gasped then, spasming with more sharp pain as Mason tried to gently, slowly, massage the last of the juice from my swollen cock. Gradually he lowered his hips to the floor as the last of his own cum spilled into the condom inside me.
For a moment we both stayed that way, speechless and exhausted. Then Mason sat up, his cock still in me, and wrapped his beefy arms around my torso. My tender shaft was pressed between our stomachs, the smooth skin of my heaving belly and chest prickled by his muscular, manicured torso. My cum smeared us both.
He kissed me then, a long, deep, passionate kiss. And when it was done, I looked into his eyes and whispered, “So much for studying. I’m sorry, but I think you’re going to fail that physics exam.”
Mason simply smiled. Like someone who knew better.
I failed the physics exam.
I spent so much time enjoying my hard-on and glancing across the examination hall at Mason that my distractions resulted in my first-ever F. I was proud of it. After all, Mason was right—not everything is science. And science isn’t everything.
I wore my failed grade like a badge of honor, for it came with memories of the best fuck of my life.
Mason passed the exam with flying colors.
At first I was completely bewildered. I thought he must have cheated, or been extremely lucky, or perhaps even slept with our professor. But as I got to know him—sitting next to each other in lectures, walking back to my dorm together after class, spending nights studying and kissing and fucking and waking up in each other’s arms—I realized Mason was not a cheat. He didn’t rely on luck, nor did he sleep with anyone to make the grade. Mason was in fact a straight-A student and had been all along.
That night in the attic, he didn’t need to win me to pass the exam.
He didn’t need me at all.
He simply wanted me, right from the beginning.
Just as I wanted him, his muscle and his mind, in the end.
My end.
BOBBY LO VERSUS THE EVIL SAKATA
Thomas Fuchs
Bobby Lo studied himself in his full-length mirror and was deeply satisfied. He flexed an arm and smiled as his biceps bulged like a fist trying to punch its way through the flesh of his arm. He raised both arms over his head, accentuating the carved ridges of his torso. Excellent definition. And he had to admit that he was hung pretty nice, too. His dick was thick and heavy, nestled in its glossy black bush, a powerful snake lying in wait. His legs were as solid as tree trunks.
He was turning himself on. His dick curled upward toward his abs. Precum oozed. He let his head roll back, thought of gorgeous guys he had fucked and then, after several minutes of delicious sensation, at the moment of release, snapped his head forward, opened his eyes and shot—load after load of heavy, rich cum splattering onto the glass. He was the picture of strength, a bottomless lake of energy. He glistened with it. He had no idea that it was this very aura of power that would soon attract the attention of a mysterious and very dangerous old man.
Bobby wasn’t just a muscle boy with a show-off bod. Although he hadn’t competed for some time and only gave lessons when he needed to make a little extra money, he was known and well respected in the world of martial arts. A good friend of his, Harold Smith, was the sensei of a highly regarded dojo with a very select membership. So it was no great surprise to Bobby that he had been invited to attend when Smith hosted the venerable Sakata-san, an ancient master visiting from Japan.
Actually, Bobby had only heard vaguely of Sakata, some odd bits here and there. The old man was said to have dropped a charging bull with a glancing blow. Someone said he had been a special teacher for Imperial troops during World War II, but for that to be true he would have to be very old, indeed. Maybe his reputation and that of some earlier master had gotten mixed up in the storytelling. One account had him giving a demonstration for Admiral Perry, back when the Americans first came to Japan. But of course that was in 1854 and was therefore impossible. What most interested Bobby was that Sakata was said to possess very ancient, deadly knowledge which had never been written down and had been passed on only by personal instruction from one generation to another for centuries, perhaps millennia.
