Your erotic stories

One of the first things I noticed when I started interning at this company was Matt, our “fitness consultant,” a professional bodybuilder that’s been hired to keep the office in shape by running exercise classes in the company gym and making various recommendations.

As a muscle fan, I’ve known about Matt for a couple of years. One of the best bodybuilders today, the 33-year-old multiple award-winner is especially known for his massively defined abs, which bulge out with unbelievably deep trenches in between. He’s also an amazingly gorgeous and sexy man, with his short black hair roguishly spiked when he poses onstage, and his dark stubble smouldering on his cheeks and firm chin. At work, there was nothing I wanted more than to admire him all day long, but I simply couldn’t take part in one of his classes. I’d get a constant hard-on I could never hide from my coworkers.

Last month, however, I did go to watch him compete at a bodybuilding competition here in town. I knew he wouldn’t recognize me, so I gave in and bought a seat close to the stage. I watched him grind out pose after pose: his handsome face scrunched up with effort as he flexed the swollen muscles all over his body, flashed a toothy grin at the audience, and then grunted out another hard flex, the sweat and oil dripping down his tanned slabs of rock-hard flesh, his bulging package almost obscene, lying on top of his thick thighs barely encapsulated in shiny aqua-coloured posing trunks.

You see, I’ve always been turned-on by musclemen, though I’ve never gotten to feel one in person. I’ve slept with a couple of the guys at my university, but none of them had muscles I could really get my hands on. After all, guys with muscles like that tend to be straight. So my cock was as hard as an iron stake not just throughout Matt’s performance but for hours afterwards, the mere memory making me hard again even if I’d just jerked off.

After he was handed the trophy onstage, I bought a large glossy souvenir photo of him showing off his amazingly chiseled stomach in an abdominal-thigh pose, but I couldn’t make myself take it over to him at the table where he was signing a big stack of them.

It’s a month after that contest and I’ve just checked in at a hotel. I’m about to graduate with an undergraduate degree in business administration, so my university got me an internship at this company a few months back. As part of my training, I’ve been sent to attend this conference with several other employees. The conference is something about creating a healthy work environment in the digital age, but the content doesn’t much matter to me since I’ll basically just be running errands for my coworkers.

The desk clerk has just given me my assigned room number and pointed out my roommate. For a moment I don’t recognize him, just admire the gorgeous stylishly-dressed man with broad shoulders filling out his blazer, the perfect ass rounding out the back of his dress pants. And then he turns around and I realize it’s Matt. I guess because both of our last names start with letters at the end of the alphabet, we ended up assigned to a room together.

All the saliva disappears from my mouth and my stomach starts to quiver, but thankfully the suit covers up most of his muscles so I can keep my composure. It’s his flashing eyes, brilliant teeth, and thick neck that make my pulse thunder as I quickly shake his hand before my palms get too sweaty.

“Sorry I don’t come to your classes,” I say. I’m six feet tall, but he has a few inches on me so I have to look up at him. “I’m still finishing up my degree, so I don’t have much time to work out.”

“Really?” he grins as we head to the elevators. “You must work out a little, though. I can tell you’re in shape. But feel free to come to the classes whenever you’ve got some time.”

“W-well, I…” He thinks I’m in shape? I mean, I do exercise regularly, but not very intensely. He’s probably just being polite. “I’ll try… sometime.”

Standing next to him in the elevator, I can breathe the deep hot scent of his flesh, with a subtle hint of a spicy cologne. I swear, the air is boiling hot in there and I tug at the collar of my shirt, the sweat breaking out on my brow. It’s like I can feel static electricity arcing from him to my entire body, and yet he seems completely unaware, making small talk about the conference. Finally, we step out onto the sixth floor and we head to our room at the end of the hallway. He slides his key across the lock and lets me enter first, wheeling my luggage. What I see inside makes me drown in a cold sweat.

It’s not that the room is terrible (although it’s pretty underwhelming). The problem is the large, single Queen-sized bed in the center of the room.

“Hmm… maybe there was a mistake?” Matt says, coming up behind me, sounding a bit bemused. “I guess I should check.”

He phones the front desk while I check out the bathroom. There’s a nice large mirror over the counter, but no bathtub-just one of those shower stalls with a slightly recessed floor and a door that closes. At least it’s a pretty large shower. Large enough for two, in fact, a devious little voice in my head can’t help whispering longingly. But no, I can’t let myself think that way or I’ll drive myself crazy before this conference is over.

When I return to the bedroom, he hangs up, saying the hotel’s completely booked. Twin rooms are especially popular during a conference. “Whatever,” he shrugs. “It doesn’t matter, right? It’s just a bed-and a pretty uncomfortable one from the looks of it. It doesn’t bother me if it doesn’t bother you.” He smirks and says, “Don’t worry, I promise not to lay a finger on you” with a deep laugh from his gut.

I’m sure he doesn’t realize I’m gay, and he’s just trying to make the absurdity of feeling uncomfortable in this situation apparent. And sure, for straight guys it WOULD be absurd to be embarrassed because what could possibly “happen”? And, you know what, it’d be absurd for me to be embarrassed too, because so what if I’m gay? I know I’m not going to try to do anything to him without his consent. Just because I’m gay doesn’t make me a rapist! True, there might be some other awkward things that could pose a problem, but I can handle them…

So we’ll add that to a whole host of other issues with the room I don’t want to think about, like the busted AC, a suspicious red stain on the carpet by the window, an iron that doesn’t work, a faulty lock on the bathroom door, a saggy mattress with noisy bedsprings, and a missing remote control for the television. Clearly the conference’s organizers had spared no expense in arranging this hotel for us.

It’s already past ten, so we start getting ready for bed. I find my pajamas in my luggage, brush my teeth, and so on. Matt goes into the bathroom to change and when he comes out a few minutes later, it’s all I can do not to stare. It’s as if I’d forgotten all about the muscles that were hiding under that professional suit of his, and what a strong power they have over me. But now he’s wearing a white tank top that exposes the enormous bunching muscles of his ripped arms and does little to hide the heavy overhang of his massive pecs. And those famous abs actually push out his shirt in eight clear bulges-you’d need to pour a bucket of water on even most bodybuilders to get their abs to show like that; and his curved, toned ass is tightly gripped by a pair of white briefs, distended in the front by a ponderous bulge that actually pulls down the front waistband of his underwear, exposing a few inches of his lower abs, like a sheet of iron with several veins standing out.

I force myself to take just a quick glance at him-a perfectly ordinary instinctive action; anyone would look briefly at someone who enters the room-and I quickly turn away (Don’t stare don’t stare keep it respectful he doesn’t want you ogling him) and focus on organizing my clothes, trying to stifle the stirrings in my cock.

“Guess there’s no need for sheets tonight, huh?” his deep voice rumbles and I swallow hard, wondering for a moment what he’s talking about and if he can tell I-

But then I realize he’s talking about the busted AC, so I mutter an agreement with a choked voice. I get the feeling he’s expecting me to say something else, but I can’t think of any small-talk to make. I can barely think at all.

“Right then,” he says. “I’m gonna turn in. Early start tomorrow. G’night!”

“G-good night!” I manage to call back, and I hear him settle onto the right side of the bed, the inferior bedsprings groaning under upwards of two hundred pounds of muscle. He turns off the light on his side of the bed, and I go to the bathroom to change into my T-shirt and stuff my thickened cock into my boxer shorts when it loses some of its stiffness.

I return to the bed, climb up onto it and feel the mattress sagging down towards him. After turning off the lamp, I lie on my back, staring at the ceiling, sensing the heat rising from the deeply-breathing muscleman beside me, the richly satisfying manly aroma of his flesh filling my nostrils.

The curtains are parted slightly at the end furthest from the bed to let just a little light in. As my eyes adjust to the darkness, I start making out more details. The white of his undergarments shows up particularly well, and when I tentatively take a look in his direction, I realize I can clearly make out the shadows of his sharply-defined back muscles under his shirt.

And oh fuck that ass, the white cotton of his briefs lapping at his perfect asscheeks, hard bulges that resist gravity, the fabric stretched over the gap between them, and as I watch he brings his knees up towards his chest, bending his legs-he sleeps in the fetal position, how cute is that?-and when he does, his underwear stretches down in the back and I can see the perfect V where his lower back meets the top of the golden taut swells of his asscheeks, I can start to see a space where I could slip my cock in between those tight slabs of muscle and-

No, this is wrong, you shouldn’t be thinking about him this way. Focus, turn away, don’t look. He doesn’t want you staring. Do you realize how disgusting he’d think you are? So I turn away, but I can still feel the thick heavy heat of his presence pressing down on the bed, lifting my side of the mattress so I lean towards him slightly. And every time I hear the bedsprings on his side squeak I can picture him resettling, arching his back, the brim of his underwear getting lower, exposing more of his gorgeous ass, and his legs parting slightly so I can see the rock-hard muscle leading right to the bottom of his cock-

There’s no way I’m going to get to sleep like this. I’m stiff as a pole and I can’t stop thinking about him, just feet away, and I mean, what if he gets up in the middle of the night and sees me lying here with this massive hard-on-what will he think of me? Or even worse, what if I do get to sleep and I wake up in a sticky puddle, my spooge soaking into the mattress and filling the air with the unmistakable reek of spunk. He’d feel so uncomfortable. You can’t do that to him, you can’t. You can’t make him feel uncomfortable and disgusted just because YOU can’t control YOURSELF. You need to take care of your own shit. You need to deal with this now.

There’s only one way to do that, of course. So after a feverish heart-pounding hour of listening to the deep rush of air and the swelling of his broad chest, fighting to keep my hands off my straining cock, the painful press of it tenting my boxer-shorts, I finally think it’s safe to gently slide off the bed (the mattress barely moves because I’m so much lighter, so I doubt he even notices), I quickly grab something from my luggage, moving the zipper as slowly as I can, and I tiptoe to the bathroom, my dick waving obscenely in front of me.

I shut the door gently and raise the dimmer switch just enough that I can make out the shredded abs and gorgeous cocky face of Matt in the middle of his posing routine. I brought the picture with me just in case something like this happened. It wasn’t hard to predict that it would.

I prop the picture against the large mirror which covers the entire wall above the bathroom counter, and I finally wrap my hands around my long-suffering cock with a great rush of relief, feeling the deep churning response throughout my meat as I pump my fists. I stare at that picture, the deep trenches between those abs, the hard nipples on pounds of muscled pecs, the arms bent above his head, his lats swelling freakishly to the sides and his shiny aqua posing trunks filled with a massive round bulge-

And I know that he’s in the other room, that perfect ass aimed in my direction. I can just picture him bending his legs more, his briefs riding lower and lower, and then he rolls over and lies on his stomach, stretching his legs out, his asscheeks swelling, and I hear the bedsprings squeak slightly and I know he’s bending his knees, and then stretching out his legs again, his ass flexing and pushing out the stretched cotton, tightening and jiggling and getting harder harder so fucking tight and-

And suddenly I feel it-the rumbling surge that makes me instantly realize that what’s building can’t be held back-and oh fuck I’m cumming I’m cumming here it cums and I try to grab a tissue but a hot spray of uncontrollable jism explodes out of my cock and spatters the mirror and I desperately wrap the tissue around my jerking cannon but the second torrent of spunk rips right through the cheap hotel tissue paper and splatters all the way up to the top of the dripping mirror. I desperately grab my spurting cockhead but it shoots another stream of hot saltwater that bursts through my clumsy grasp, ricocheting off my fingers and spattering a wide range of streaks all over the mirror, sink, and counter, and then I just think fuck it what’s the point now and I jerk wildly at my pulsing rod of muscle with my cum-soaked hand as I lean forward and spray my load all over that drenched mirror again, the cum from my first shots already pouring down to pool at the bottom-

And that’s when I hear the fucking door open. And there’s Matt in his tight tank top and briefs, his sleepy eyes widening in shock as he takes in the cum-soaked mirror and me hastily trying to cover up my massive throbbing semen-slicked organ with my hands, but there’s no way, it’s too big and some last spurts of spunk are still popping out to land on my hands and the tiles beneath my feet-how fucking stupid are you, turn around! And I turn, but really, what good’s that going to do now. At least I didn’t get any on HIM.

He clears his throat, obviously in shock and unsure what to say as my muted cock thrashes a few last times in my hands. I desperately st-st-stammer out apologies, bending down to grab my boxers from where I’d casually dropped them earlier.

“N-no, uh-” I can hear how stunned and no doubt horrified he is. “I-I should’ve knocked. I was still half-asleep and I thought you were still in bed, so…” Clearly he hadn’t noticed my weight was missing from the bed. I also probably should’ve turned the lights on all the way. “Look, it’s my mistake,” he says. “You can do what you want in private. Just-ah-clean up when you’re done.”

Utterly mortified, I can’t bear to face him, but in between the streaks of cum on the mirror, I see him take one last stunned look at the mess I’ve made, and then leave the bathroom, closing the door behind him. A few moments later, I hear the bedsprings whine as his massive bulk presses down on them.

I struggle to breathe and not to burst into tears of humiliation and shame, furiously scrubbing at my dripping cock with the cheap hotel tissues, and that’s when I see it-the picture of Matt, face scrunched up with the blissful tight pain of squeezing his famous abs on stage in front of a hall of swooning fans, that picture now soaked due to my ill-timed orgasm, and I think back to that last stunned expression before he left the room. Oh fuck no, oh no, he saw it he knows!

I think about just getting my stuff and leaving right now, but where would I go? So I clean the bathroom as thoroughly and as quietly as I can and flush the sodden masses of tissues down the toilet. Because a heavy pall of tangy spunk still fills the room, I leave the bathroom door open and hope for the best. I slink back to the bed and carefully ease myself onto it, wondering if he’ll wake up and demand I sleep on the floor or even leave, but he seems to be asleep with his broad back to me (I guess he gave up on using the bathroom, and who could blame him). I carefully look away, but I’m feeling so awful about the situation that I don’t think there’s any danger of getting another erection. I shove my face into the pillow and try to block out the accusing voices in my head.

I barely sleep, but I pretend to be completely out when the sun rises and I feel his weight lift off the mattress, hear his feet pad surprisingly lightly across the room towards the bathroom. I hear the shower creak on, and my cock springs up in two seconds flat as I picture him nude and soaping up his huge glistening body. I can’t let him see me like this and I can’t face him this morning, so I leap out of bed, dress, and get everything I’ll need today before he finishes showering. I coat myself with body spray to cover up the scent of my exertions last night, grab a razor, and rush out of the room, all before Matt turns off the faucet. Thankfully, it takes him a long time to clean that massive body, rubbing the soap into each crevice of his abs and sliding a sudsy hand across his ass and down between his legs so he can-no no stop that focus FOCUS!

I’m kept running errands all day long. I briefly see Matt in the hotel’s gym. He’s wearing tight grey workout gear (but naturally, how would he ever find workout gear that isn’t tight?) and he’s demonstrating some training routines for people from various companies. I think he doesn’t see me, but the quivering in my gut that’s been there all day intensifies and my knees almost buckle beneath me. I wish I could jerk off during one of my breaks, but I don’t want to return to the room and I can’t risk doing it in a public restroom-not when you’re someone who cums as forcefully as I do.

I stay out of the hotel room as late as I can, but finally there’s nothing else to do but head back. There’s no reason for an intern to be wandering around the lobby at 9pm when the conference ended several hours ago.

I sheepishly open the door and light pours out into the hall. I can hear him moving about inside. If I’m lucky, maybe he’s getting ready to sleep already. Closing the door behind me, I make my way past the bathroom and into the bedroom. He must have already showered because he’s in the white tank top and briefs from last night. He’s lying on his side of the bed, hands laced behind his head, causing his biceps to swell up like melons and his lats to balloon out from his sides. Even lying down, his abs are visible through his tightly-stretched shirt as if he’s got an upside-down egg carton under there, and I can see the pendulous heavy bulge in his briefs.

He nods in my direction and looks at me with a friendly openness that shocks me. You’d think he hadn’t seen anything last night. “Hey, you’re back,” he says. “They sure kept you late. Everything go all right?”

“Y-yeah,” I manage to gasp out around my fumbling tongue. “Uh-y-yourself?”

“They kept me going all day too, doing the same moves over and over. Damn I’m sore,” he groans, rubbing one of his shoulders.

“Uh-I’ll bet.” Blushing, I busy myself by dropping a few things like my ID and wallet and phone on the desk table. I hear him groan as he sits up and stretches his arms, swinging them across his bunching chest.

After a pause, he asks, “You sleep all right?” My stomach drops out and I start to sweat. What does he mean by that? Is he talking about what happened in the middle of the night?

“L-look, I-about that, I’m really-“

He looks right into my eyes and says nonchalantly, “If it’s really bothering you, I’ll sleep on the floor.”

“What?!” My ears are buzzing and I can feel my heart thundering sickeningly. Have I really made him that uncomfortable? “Oh, no-no you don’t need to do that! If anyone should sleep on the floor it’s me!”

“What are you talking about? It’s my heavy ass that’s ruining the bed, so I should pay for it.”

“Wait-what?” Everything thuds to a halt. I stare at him, completely confused.

“I said, since I’m the one breaking the bed, it’s only fair I sleep on the floor.” To illustrate his point, he stands up, causing the mattress to visibly lift and let out a twang of relief.

“That’s what you were worried about?” I blurt out.

“Of course. What did you think I was talking about?” Then I see the understanding flicker across his face. “Oh, right. THAT. Look… don’t worry about it. You were bored ’cause you couldn’t sleep, and that’s on ME. We’ve all-uh, been there. Water under the bridge.”

I break into a feverish sweat as I ponder the implications of that “we’ve all been there.” But I need to keep it together. Somehow he’s managed to blame himself for the whole incident, which I suppose is human nature. But had he seen my picture of him from the competition?

“If it’s really bothering you that much, though,” he says flippantly, as if he’s completely unbothered by the conversation, “you can make it up to me by helping me get some of this tension out of my shoulders. Or… is that asking too much?”

“N-no! Not at all!” I blurt out more quickly than I intend.

“Great! That’s a big help.” He grins and suddenly he does that move that only buff guys seem to have the confidence to pull off, where he crosses his arms, grips the bottom of his shirt, and then drags it up. The thin white material strains upwards, rolling over the hard ridges of his incredible abs; I can see the material actually slow and stall on each pair of abs then slip into the trench before the next pair, and his ripped obliques are like rows of shingles as the shirt slides higher and his stomach flexes, his massive arms bulge, the shirt riding up onto his thick pecs, massive mounds of muscle wobbling and jerking, the cords standing out as his straining arms pull up, the material stalling on his lats, which jut obscenely from his sides, the hard twist of material caught in the muscled valleys of his armpits, wound around his shoulders, riding above the hard swells of his pumped-up biceps-until the material slides free and he rips the shirt off over his head and throws it over a nearby chair.

I feel my cock pressing at the front of my pants and I know he’s bound to notice it soon-but thankfully he turns his back to me and lies face-down on the creaking bed, that perfect ass rising up, the white cotton stretched thinly across it.

“Uh… like this?” I ask, walking around the side of the bed and leaning over to place my shaking hands on the unbelievably hard expanse of his shoulder muscles. I start to squeeze and stroke them, amazed at how they resist my grip.

“Isn’t that kind of awkward?” he asks. “Come on, climb on my back. I can take it. You don’t weigh THAT much.” A deep laugh shakes the mass of muscle beneath my hands and I swallow hard, my stomach dropping out and my hands sweating and my heart my heart my heart I swear he should be able to hear it pumping the blood straight down to my iron cock.

I mount the bed and place one knee on either side of his slender torso, with that expanse of broad shoulders and widespread back muscles in front of me, his arms lying at his sides. With a subtle, quick move I trap my dick between my stomach and the waistband of my pants, just to keep it out of the way, and I lean over and begin massaging his shoulders again, practically on my hands and knees, hovering over his waist.

He sighs with relief and says, “Good, now get my lats, would you?” So I slide back a little and-oh fuck, I’m right over that delectable ass of his, I can feel it squeezing and jiggling between my thighs, hot like rocks baking in the sun, as he pulls himself a little forward on the bed-I need to keep my balance, can’t fall forward or my cock would press right between those tanned cheeks.

A low moan comes from deep in his throat. “Yeah, that’s much better. A little lower.” So I slide my hands to his lower back, slide my knees back so they’re straddling his thighs-fuck, his thighs are so huge that I can barely spread my own legs wide enough to balance over them; in fact, my leg muscles are starting to quiver and I swear I’m about to fall forward.

“Now slide your hands up my back, all the way up,” he orders.

“B-but I-I-” How can I explain it?

“You don’t want to?”

But I do. So fucking much. I lean down, sliding my hands away from me, and as my hips thrust forward, my straining cock lands right in the middle of that hot tight ass, it slides along his skin, blazing with pleasure, crushed between my stomach and his rock-hard muscles and I feel it start to twitch, I can feel the precum welling from my dick, staining the front of my pants, can feel it tightening, shivering, pressed against his hot hard skin which swells and jiggles as he raises himself up on his elbows; he can feel me of course, he can feel my giant cock pressed between those meaty pillows of his ass, not just feel it hard but getting ready to cum getting ready to spray my load all over those clean white cotton undies of his unless I-

I roll off him and stumble away, turn my back on him, concentrating so hard to get my dick under control. The roiling pleasure flutters halfway up my shaft and subsides, a twinge of pain in my balls. “I-I-I’m-“

“That must hurt,” he says. “You can let it out if it’ll make it easier for you.”

“W-what? N-no I-!”

He slowly rolls over on the bed, his abs contracting and his thighs rippling and oh fuck, his erection sways in his tight briefs, caught between his hip and the white cotton, which is so thin I can make out the shadow of his bulging purple cockhead, see a slick spot of clear precum ooze through the thin material. “I mean, so long as you let me do the same. I’m ACHING here.”

“Y-you did that on purpose!” I suddenly realize.

“Can you blame me?” he grins, propping himself up on his elbows, his abs clenching so hard it’s all I can do not to stare at them and his swollen cock. “I thought there was a chance I could find out if you’re interested without doing anything too scandalous, because I sure as fuck am interested in you after last night.”

I all but faint, unable to process this information. “Wait, you’re interested in ME?”

“Do you know how HARD I was last night after seeing you in that bathroom? I’ve always wanted to find a guy who can cum like that-who can cum like that on ME. And I could smell that spunk on you all night long. My cock was so tight I had to let it out and lie there with it sticking out of my briefs. In the morning, I had to jerk off twice in the shower just so I knew I wouldn’t spring another hard-on during the workouts today. So yes, I’m INTERESTED in you and what you can do with that pistol of yours.”

It can’t be true. No way. We’d been lying with our backs to each other, me reeking of cum and shame, him with that toned ass in his stretched briefs while his rock-hard cock stuck out on the other side, both of us unwilling to possibly make an awkward arrangement into a full-blown sexual harassment suit.

He heaves his legs over the side of the bed and stands up, takes a step toward me. Now I can look down at the gap his straining cock is creating between his hard, veined stomach and the stretched waistband of his briefs. I feel another drizzle of precum soaking my cockhead.

Gently, he starts unbuttoning my shirt, saying, “I hoped I had something to do with you jerking off in there, but I didn’t know for sure if you were gay. Besides, some people think my muscles are a turn-off, that they’re too big and don’t want anything to do with them.”

My mouth is somehow both extremely dry and yet I feel like I’m swallowing flood after flood of saliva. “Wait, so you didn’t see the picture?”

“What picture?”

“I was jerking off to a picture of you from your competition last month.”

“A competition pic?” After a moment, a devilish grin floods his face, then he looks down at his right arm and starts to curl it upwards, making his massive bicep push up, the skin tightening, the veins standing out. “You mean you want to feel my muscles? You want to feel how hard they are? Go on. Feel that muscle.”

I groan lustfully as I wrap my hands around that huge arm-it takes both of my hands just to get around it-and he relaxes and contracts and grins as I react to his muscles jumping under his skin. I rub my hands along his wide forearms, feeling the hard ridges of his veins. My cock presses insistently against the material restraining it and I can’t help but adjust it with one hand.

“No, let it out,” he says. “Let me see that hard cock of yours.”

So I strip off my pants and socks more quickly than I ever have before and when I pull my boxers down my giant erection springs up, a glistening drop of precum rolling out of my cumslit.

“What a hot cock,” he says appreciatively, his own member still pushing out his white briefs. “You’re fucking huge! I mean, I got a glimpse last night, but DAMN.” What I care about right now, though, is feeling those enormous pecs, running my hands over the deep striations and making his nipples hard-and then he’s flexing those pecs and they ripple and bounce all over, causing my dick to jerk tentatively a few times.

And my hands rove over the mountains and valleys of his amazing abs, the incredibly thin skin sliding over the permanent shelves of muscle. He flexes and the trenches deepen even more, my fingers sliding into them and down to his navel. “Oh fuck.” I lean into that muscled tanned chest and stomach, lay my face alongside it and breathe in his manly sweaty scent, feeling his body contract against my skin, and now I’m moving further south, feeling his musculature with my face and my tongue while my hands reach around to feel that incredible ass.

I gently grasp the thin material on his hips and pull it down. His cock finally swings out of its prison, and his thick muscled veiny shaft matches the rest of his body, his heavy balls dangling and radiating heat and sweat. Clear, sticky precum leaks out of his swollen cockhead, and I lap it up with my tongue, a tangy sweetness coating my mouth. I want more, so much more.

But not yet. “You want me to really spray my load, right? You want me to shoot a fountain of hot cum all over you.”

“That’s right,” he pants. “I’ve always wanted to feel what it’s like-the pressure, the heat. Do it for me. Please.”

“Then we’d better slow things down a little,” I say regretfully, looking up at him, his heavy cock in my face and the rows of muscles widening out above me. I know it takes three things to produce a massive cumshot: being unbelievably horny (which I already am), drinking a lot of water (which I’d better start doing now), and time-both since my last cumshot (which I unfortunately can’t control) and spent jerking off before the current cumshot, getting right to the edge and backing off again and again (which I definitely can control, though it’s so hard with this mountain of muscle and cock in front of me).

I spend the next hour jerking off and downing glasses of water. The time passes rapidly as he performs his routine for me, flashing his white teeth and grunting with exertion as he blasts out pose after pose, his muscles getting pumped and sweaty, the veins throbbing and-a definite improvement over the official competition-his weighty cock and balls swaying between his monstrous thighs. He lets me feel every inch of him, rub the thin skin over the hard mounds of muscle beneath, feel the steel bulges of his biceps flexing against my face, all while I jerk off my throbbing, desperate cock, feeling the churning pent-up pressure of my cum building in me.

It’s been long enough. I can’t wait any longer. He lies down on the creaking mattress, his ramrod cock thrust into the air. I hold myself over him, lick all the way up his shaft, feel it twitch and watch the precum ooze out. I ease a condom over it, rub lube up and down that thick, hard pole, hear him gasp and moan and writhe on the bed, and then I’m straddling his tanned, taut torso, sliding myself down onto his meaty muscle, feeling it stretch me wide, the hard head pushing up insistently, the lube squelching out of my tight hole, and he grunts and thrusts up, his abs rippling, the sweat pooling in every muscled trough-

And he grabs my cock in his powerful fingers, smears my dripping precum over his palm. I can feel the strength in his hand as he times his stroke to his cock sliding into me, and then he’s pulling back, sliding his hand up to my dribbling purple cockhead, and I think Fuck yes he wishes he had my cum-spraying cannon, he’s feeling the hot spunk building inside me, my cock getting ready to pulse my salty seed all over him-

And he thrusts into me again, I gasp at the swelling insistence of his rock-hard member, he pumps his hand down to the base of my cock, and then he’s sliding out and back and thrusting in again and again, fucking my ass with his cock and fucking my dick with his hand, timing the strokes so that the waves of rumbling pressure rise in us like lightning, fucking me harder and harder and my dick getting tighter and tighter in his fists, now both of them pounding up and down on my cock, his hands together on my meat so his sweat-drenched pecs are pressed up between his bulging biceps, wobbling as he grunts and gasps and thrusts into me and I run my hands over his hot hard muscles, feeling them tensing under me and in me and I gasp and moan in pleasure as fucks me harder and faster, my dick burning and swelling and shaking, getting tighter and tighter, my balls churning and my pulse racing and my ass full of his hard driving member and Fuck me yes fuck me with your hard muscles Fuck I can’t take it anymore I’m going to cum I’m going to cum-

And my cock explodes, the white hot spray blasting out in a wet, messy torrent, the blast pounding into his face, spraying off him and all over the mattress and headboard and some even up onto the wall, and he directs my cock down to his chest so my next load sprays between his pecs, a river of cum pouring down between them, and he jerks an even stronger load out of me, the cum gushing into his open mouth, filling it with sticky, salty spunk, and my cock is jerking again and again, I can feel the streams of hot cum rocketing up my cock and out onto his chest, shoulders, arms, abs, his cock still pounding into me as we moan in unbelievable orgasmic pleasure Fuck yes fuck yes shoot your cum all over me it’s so hot so hot spray me all over more more fuck yes I’m going to cum I’m going to cum-

And he pulls out of me, I rip the condom off him and cum floods out of his dick. He doesn’t shoot, but wave after wave of thick white semen pours out of his cumslit and slides down his shaft, so thick and hot and fuck there’s a LOT of it, it oozes down into his short pubes and onto his massive tight balls, and the last spurts of my own orgasm join it, our cum mixing on his mighty tool.

I collapse onto the bed beside him. He has his eyes closed in ecstasy, his swollen cock still twitching a few last times as he rubs his hands over his cum-soaked muscles, dips his fingers into the spunk-filled trenches of his abs, and then licking his fingers clean, moaning as he tastes the salty juice.

“Fuck man, that was incredible,” he moans. “Let me clean off that cannon of yours.” So I let him suck my cock into his warm, wet mouth, feel his tongue lapping up the last drops of my orgasm and then he stops out of amazement as he feels my cock growing hard again already. I say to him,

“Follow me to the shower and I’ll help clean you up.”

With a grin, he sits up, a wave of cum slides down his body, pouring over his abs to pool in his lap and to soak into the mattress, but we don’t care about that. He leads the way to the bathroom, his tempting muscle cheeks wobbling in front of me as my cock keeps lengthening, approaching complete hardness. I grab the bottle of lube and a fresh condom, knowing what’s coming.

He steps into the warm spray of the shower and I follow him, rubbing my hands over the glistening slabs of wet muscle, slicked with sweat and water and spunk and I suck on his nipples, dig my tongue into the grooves of his hard stomach, toy and tease with him until his cock starts to lift up too. And this time he says, “It’s your turn. Fill me with that massive cock. I want to feel the cum build up inside you.”

I squeeze the condom down over my pulsing cock and command, “Turn around.” I can see the eager lust in his eyes as he nods and exposes that fucking hot ass to me, leans forward, braces his hands against the tiled wall.

I step up behind him and rest my cock against the tanned curves of his ass. It’s so hard and hot and he thrusts his hips slightly, arches his back, causing his muscled backside to flex and swell under my quivering cock. I snap open the bottle of lube and pour it onto his hole, then throw it away. And with my hand guiding my meaty shaft, I dig my cockhead into his lubed-up entrance and push forward, him bucking and moaning, tensing his ass, bracing himself against the wall, Yes fuck me fuck me shove that cock inside me I can take it I can take it Fill me with your hot cock-

The steaming shower spray falls on us as I bottom out, I can barely believe he has such a greedy ass and yet it’s so tight, so tight around my massive cock because those incredible muscles are all around it; he flexes his ass and I can feel the mighty globes of muscle pressing on my cock from both sides, trying to squeeze the cum out of me. “Fuck yes,” I moan, “wring the cum out of me with that hot ass,” and I pull back and thrust into his muscled passage, my cock getting squeezed and squeezed, my balls slapping against the thick slabs of his thighs, my hands holding his hips, feeling the muscled hollowing and swelling of his ass on my wrists, him moaning as he braces himself with one hand while jerking himself off with the other, Fuck yes fuck yes fuck my ass Fill me with your cock-

And the hot water pounds down on us, the mirror fogs up so I can see the streaks from where I scrubbed it last night, picturing that tight ass which I’m now drilling with my rock-hard dick, the pressure building and building inside it, getting ready to explode, my ballsack getting tighter, my cock starting to twitch and jerk and-

“Don’t you waste that fucking hot cum where I can’t feel it!” he shouts, suddenly turning off the shower, so I yank myself out of him and tear off the condom and a brutal CLENCH of my cock tears the cum right out of me, it shoots right up between his slippery muscle meatcheeks, strikes the ceiling and rebounds down onto his upturned face, and I explode again and again onto that hot ass and back, the pressurized shots driving into his skin, bursting in sprays of hot milk as he groans and arches his back and cries out as he cums, the hot slick of semen pouring out of his cock and onto the bottom of the shower.

Panting, he braces himself against the wall. Gasping and quivering, I slap my spent cock against his glistening cum-drenched ass, my cockhead sore inside and out. And then he turns around and pushes me against the wall of the shower, his massive arms on either side of my head, his chest and stomach pressing into me, and he kisses me deeply, our tongues entwining as I taste my cum in his mouth and he tastes his cum in mine.

“You’re coming with me to every competition from now on, OK?” he asks when our lips part. “But let’s find a nicer place to stay next time.”