This is a story resulting from receiving several full-body photos from a body-builder reader along with a description of what he could give me in a rough fuck.
The Hulk crouched near the bolted heavy oak door, eyeing Rab, ready to pounce, trying to anticipate where Rab might try to scurry next. The stone-walled chamber wasn’t small, but it wasn’t so large that Rab had much of a chance evading the Hulk much longer.
Both men were panting, having played this cat-and-mouse game for several minutes, but Rab was more winded than the Hulk was. No one in his right mind would have bet on Rab in these circumstances.
The hulk couldn’t have looked any more fierce. His loincloth only accentuated the jungle primeval nature of him. He was more than six and a half feet tall, with a massive, heavily worked musculature, the development of which must have taken up most of his adulthood. Bald and bullet-headed with bushy, reddish-blond eyebrows nearly hiding jet-black, intelligent eyes that darted about, seeing everything at once, measuring the angles and the distances, he was a man to easily strike terror into the heart of a young, small man like Rab. Though beautifully proportioned and handsome of features, Rab was less than three-quarters the size of the man stalking him in the windowless chamber, silent as death other than the heavy breathing of the two men.
The man’s chest was massive, set between arms with biceps larger than Rab’s waist. Although considering the aspect of hair on the giant brought the observer’s attention immediately to the bald head, bushy eyebrows, and the Fu Manchu mustache and extra-long goatee, closer examination revealed that his arms and chest were covered in reddish-blond hair as well, so long and fine that when the light was set behind him his body took on a haloed effect. Blue, green, and red tattoos peeked out through the pelting: oval designs on the forearms and a dragon on the left shoulder and bicep. The nubs on the man’s chest were prominent, begging for rings, but, other than the tattoos, the Hulk sported no body adornment. The most dominant tattoo, at least at this moment, was the word “Respect” carved in a Gothic-letter arc following the diaphragm curve below the bulging pecs.
Rab was, at the moment, giving the Hulk all of the respect he could muster by trying to stay out of his grip. The young man, covered only in a gauzy white cotton tunic of sorts, was moving in a semicircle as far on the other side of the stone-walled chamber as he could. The two were eyeing each other warily. The Hulk, grunting, would make a feint in one direction and Rab would quickly dart in another. Then the action would be played out in another direction. Rab knew what the Hulk was looking for in the young man’s evasion, why the man was toying with him like this. He could see the intelligence in the Hulk’s eyes. He knew the man was mapping Rab’s pattern of trying to maintain the distance between them. He knew that the man enjoyed this game, also knowing how it inevitably would end. Rab was trying to change his movement pattern, but he could see by a flash in the Hulk’s eyes and a growling laugh that rumbled deep inside the man that his moments of freedom were nearly at an end.
The Hulk crouched on his beefy haunches, ready to spring in whatever direction he decided. A broad, calloused hand went to the string holding up his loincloth. He tugged on the string, snapping it, and the loincloth fell to the floor. He gave Rab a sneery “this is all going to be inside you” smile.
Rab’s eyes opened wide and he sobbed. The big cock was already sheathed in erection, leaving no doubt of intent, not that there ever had been doubt of intent from the moment he was thrown into the dungeon with the giant.
The Hulk’s groin was hairless to accommodate the most intimidating tattoo of all, the triangle above the cock being taken up with the wings of a bat centered by a hound’s head, oversized fangs flashing. Talons reached down from both sides of the wings, perpetually trying to dig into the root of the man’s cock. The cock itself, wrapped at the root by a tight leather band was massive in its erection. Not overly long, but thick, cut, and bending menacingly to the right just beyond the glans. And it was sheathed and greased, ready for immediate action.
Rab’s entrance had been greased too before he was tossed into the room. There would be no foreplay, no time to adjust.
Rab’s hand went to his mouth to stifle the scream of recognition of what the Hulk intended to do with that cock—and how sure they both were that the Hulk would do as he liked. The moment of shock was just what the Hulk had been waiting for. He feinted right but pounced left, springing off the spongy tatami matting of the floor, and was almost upon Rab before the young man could react. When Rab did move, it was in the wrong direction.
The young man slid across the matting toward the far corner of the room. He went down in a heap and was just a second too late in springing back up. There was no place to go but the corner. Which meant there was no place to go at all. Rab cowered in the corner, drawing his knees up into his chest and trying to cover his head with his arms, not wanting to see what was coming. His pursuer hovered over him for a moment, grunting and growling. He smiled, obviously pleased that the new phase of this game was now opening. Reaching down, he grabbed onto the back neckline of Rab’s tunic and easily lifted the young man up in the air. He shook his prey, looking at it as if contemplating where to begin. Rab was babbling and pleading, but the Hulk took no notice. With a sweep of his arm, he tossed Rab into the center of the empty room. Rab landed hard on the tatami floor and, with a whimper and shudder, folded himself into a fetal position.
But in three strides the Hulk was standing over the young man again. He reached down and grabbed the neck of the tunic once more with both claws and just ripped it away, off the young man’s body, and tossed it aside. Rab lay on the matting below him, trembling and whimpering. His body was alabaster white. He was beautifully formed. Rather than the exaggerated bulk of the Hulk in every dimension, his was a very young, well-muscled, but pampered body, perfect in every proportion for a young man of barely five and a half feet. He was smooth-skinned, and had been unblemished before he had been thrown in the room but would show bruises after whatever happened to him here. His head hair was auburn, with golden highlights, and curled in a thick mop around his head. His eyes were hazel and wide open now in terror.
The Hulk reached down, put a beefy arm around the young man’s waist, and lifted his body, bent over, up into the air. Rab struggled, flailing out with both his arms and legs, resisting as best he could the assault on his body. The Hulk turned him facing up and, with his other hand, backhanded Rab twice across the face. Rab wailed and lost a bit of the fight, but not much. He was stunned long enough, though, for the Hulk to work his hips between Rab’s thighs and to position his cock so that he could start repeatedly brushing the top of his shaft across the rim of Rab’s hole.
Recovered a bit, Rab started struggling harder again, but the Hulk just laughed, retaining his strong embrace with the arm under Rab’s waist and holding his pelvis in to where Rab’s cock rested against the hounds head of the bat tattoo. With his free hand, the Hulk slapped Rab’s buttocks several times, eliciting little cries from the struggling young man. The hulk went down on his knees on the Tatami and slammed Rab down on his back in front of him. As they reached the flooring, he pushed his knees under Rab’s buttocks so that the young man’s pelvis was elevated above his torso, his legs were spread on the outside of the Hulk’s meaty thighs, and his channel offered a straight shot for the Hulk’s thick, curved cock. Winded, Rab didn’t struggle as the Hulk pulled the smaller man’s torso into his, jerking Rab’s legs up on his thighs. And then, pressing down on Rab’s sternum with one hand and grabbing his own cock with his other hand, he started to stuff the head of his cock into Rab’s hole. This produced louder cries and increased flailing of Rab’s arms and shaking of his head.
The Hulk lowered his mouth to Rab’s nipples and sucked and bit those as he pressed his cock slowly home, stretching Rab’s channel to accommodate him ever so slowly as there had been no preparation other than that Rab had been greased up before being tossed into the chamber.
Rab was still struggling, trying, without success, to move his legs into some position from where he either could attack the Hulk or push away from him. He was beating with his fists, again without effect, all over the Hulk’s torso, trying to push him away. His head arched back and he cried out at the rough treatment the Hulk was giving his nipples. He also was giving a babbling commentary of the movement of the cock down his channel.
Bottomed, the Hulk raised his head off Rab’s chest and gave the young man a smile of victory. He reached for and imprisoned the wrists of the flailing arms with his fists and forced them down on the tatami flooring out wide on either side of Rab’s head. Chest heaving, Rab stared back up into the giant’s face with an expression of wonder at all that was inside him, throbbing, stretching. They held there for a few seconds of recognition that they now were one, unified, connected in some primeval way and that the reality was that there was no going back to a moment when Rab was not fully possessed by this man—and one, slight moment of acceptance on Rab’s part of what was and would not ever again be otherwise. Miraculously, Rab’s channel walls had stretched to accommodate the pulsating shaft. For no more than a slight second Rab was struck with the thought that the victory wasn’t all the Hulk’s. The man was panting for him, deep inside him, his cock throbbing, beyond his control in wanting him. In some way this was Rab’s victory too.
The moment did not last, though.
Giving a knowing smile, the Hulk moved his hips back, just once at that moment, withdrawing his cock half way, and then moved forward again, slowly, deliberately, pushing deep inside Rab’s channel. The moment of accepted connection was broken. In a whimpering voice of resignation, Rab spoke coherently for the first time. “Please, just go slowly. Please don’t hurt me.”
Whether it was that the Hulk didn’t hear him or that he didn’t understand or that he simply didn’t care, he smiled cruelly, reared his hips back and thrust forward hard. Rab’s body jerked and he threw his head back and cried out. The Hulk thrust hard and deep inside him, again and again and again. Rab did not plead again. He was moaning and wailing and whimpering and cursing the man with every foul word he could think of, and the Hulk just smiled and continued pumping the channel hard. And as the time passed, Rab quieted down in defeat and went limp.
Laughing, the Hulk released the young man’s wrists and raised up a bit, giving him an inch more in depth as he pumped. He had stopped the pounding, though, and had started all over at a deliberate beginning, working the channel in a slow pump, which steadily but not too quickly picked up speed again. He ran his hands over Rab’s chest as the young man panted a shallow pant of resignation. The Hulk moved back on his haunches, which brought Rab’s torso off the tatami, the Hulk supporting Rab’s torso with hands on his waist. But Rab just lay back, arms akimbo at his side, head flopped back, the only motion in those being the slight jerks, accompanied by a moan or a groan, marking the relentless thrusts inside his channel. The Hulk leaned over and nibbled at Rab’s nipples, but the young man gave no response; he just lay there, limp.
Tiring, the Hulk’s pumps slowed down again and set into a regular pattern of a few short thrusts, followed by some bulb work on Rab’s prostate, and then a few long, deep strokes. Rab’s channel had opened fully to be able to take the cock even though it was still a tight fit.
And then, slowly, the Hulk’s eyes opening in amazement, something was going on inside the channel. The muscles of Rab’s channel walls were starting to undulate over the cock, and Rab was sighing and moaning. And then his hips started to move, revolving and moving up and down and back and forth, forming new patterns of pleasure for the Hulk’s movement inside him.
Rab reached for one of the Hulk’s hands and moved it to Rab’s cock, encouraging the giant to start stroking. In utter surprise and delight the Hulk fell into this enthusiastically. Rab reached up with his hands and ran his fingers through the Hulk’s chest hair. And his fingers went to the prominent nubs and made them plump up even more than they already were. Rab was purring, and, in as far as a monster man like the Hulk could do, he was purring as well.
The young man raised his torso, with no objection from the Hulk, and moved his mouth to that of his assailant. He then opened his lips to give entry to the Hulk’s tongue. Now the Hulk definitely was purring.
Rab shuddered and gave a couple of little jerks and ejaculated up the Hulk’s flat stomach, the cum reaching for the arced “Respect” tattoo. The Hulk trembled, amazed that Rab now wanted him. Rab cooed and moved his hips, signaling that he loved the fucking the Hulk’s cock was giving him.
Then nudging the Hulk toward one side, he tried to turn them into another position. At first the Hulk didn’t understand and he gripped Rab hard, but then he began to realize what Rab was trying to do—and he was grateful, because he had been crouched over Rab’s body and pumping his channel for what seemed to be an eternity. As Rab had become not just accepting but also a partner in the fuck, the adrenaline had started to flow out of the Hulk’s body and he was tiring.
He allowed Rab to turn them onto the side and then, nudged further, turned onto his back. Rab was on top of him now, saddled on his pelvis. And it was Rab who was moving his channel on the cock, fucking himself.
The Hulk ran his hand up and down Rab’s sides as the young man arched his back and rode the cock. A look of amazement came over the Hulk’s face as he jerked and fired off deep inside the young man. Giving him a saucy smile, Rab came off the cock and wormed his body down until he could roll the sheath off, clean the cock in his mouth, and continue to make love to it for several minutes.
When he rolled off of the Hulk’s body, the giant stumbled up onto his feet and looked down at the curled-up Rab in wonder. He had conquered in a way he’d never imagined. The Hulk had not, in a thousand years, thought that he could make a forced conquest like this want him. He had been told he was being given a fresh one to do what he wanted with. He had planned on breaking the young man and leaving him incapable of serving another man for some time to come. And he had done damage; he was sure of that. But no conquest had ever grown to want the cocking as this small man had. He had always fully planned to fuck the young man again, but this new experience was giving the Hulk pause to consider what was happening here.
He walked around the perimeter of the chamber, close to the walls, keeping his eyes on the collapsed figure of Rab. The young man was still breathing. The Hulk could hear the rasping breaths slowly becoming controlled, and the young man moving to where he could watch the Hulk pacing around him. The Hulk wasn’t sure what to do. He was still randy, already reengorging. Would he be restalking the young man again in a few minutes? Would he fuck him more brutally this time to break him, find the key that would terrorize and break him? He always had to reestablish his control before, but this one was different. This one had come to act like he wanted it. Was it all a ruse—to hold off on a second fucking? If so, it wouldn’t work.
The Hulk pulled the spent condom off his cock and threw it to the side. There were other, new ones, in various sizes, scattered around at the sides of the tatami mat. He reached down and retrieved a Golden Ticket Magnum packet, split it open, and rolled the condom on his cock. All the time he was watching the young man, expecting him to cower and to start moving away from the Hulk in realization that his ruse hadn’t worked, marking the start of another pursuit.
But Rab didn’t cower or retreat. As the Hulk was rolling the condom on his cock, Rab went up on his hands and knees and started crawling along the floor toward him, his eyes pleading. “Fuck me again, daddy. Please fuck me again. Fuck me hard,” he murmured, raising an entreating arm toward the big bruiser.
With a roar, the Hulk stepped to Rab and scooped him off the tatami. He fucked him this time standing up in a crouch, with Rab’s body draped down toward the floor of the chamber, held in front the Hulk with hand grips on both sides of Rab’s waist. The Hulk pulled the young man’s channel onto his cock with a long, fast jerk that had Rab crying out, “Yes! Yes! Fuck me hard!” And then the Hulk just pushed and pulled Rab’s canal off his cock in strong, deep motions that got more and more rapid until the Hulk had filled the bulb of his condom again. Rab’s cries of taking subsided in whimpers and the blowing of bubbles from his lips as his body limply arched back to the floor. When he was done, the Hulk let Rab’s body slowly sink to the floor. Trembling, Rab encircled the Hulk’s beefy thighs with his arms, lifting one hand to roll the spent condom of the Hulk’s cock, and then cleaned the cock with his mouth. Still confused, the Hulk stood away from him, listening to Rab whimper, “Again, daddy, again. Fuck me again. Fuck my brains out,” in a small, distant voice.
But the Hulk was spent. For the first time in his memory, he was totally drained of cum and the energy to fuck. And he was confused and amazed. This one had been turned to wanting him. The beautiful young man wanted the Hulk’s cock.
Still pondering his new-found talent to make such a perfect young man want him, the Hulk slowly backed to the door. Rab dragged along, clinging to his legs, pleading, “Fuck me. Please do me again.” The Hulk pounded on the door to signal that he was finished, and then disappeared on the other side, leaving Rab moaning and panting heavily in a pile inside the door.
At length, Rab slowly sat up, checked his body for damage, and shook his head to clear it. Giving a little smile, he stood up gingerly and opened the door. It had been shut but not locked. On the other side of the door, he opened a closet and took out another cotton tunic and pulled it down over his head. Then he padded out to the reception area.
The house pimp was sitting at the desk, smiling and shaking his head.
Rab walked up to the desk and collapsed into the chair beside it.
“I don’t know how you do it,” the pimp said. “You pushed him to over an hour and a half so he had to pay for two hours and even then he left a hefty tip for you. Each time you go back there with a big bruiser like that, I expect to have to send medics and a shovel back there to scoop you up, but here you are, walking out on your own two legs. He had a monster cock; I saw it; not long but extra thick. And he said he wanted to pay the rough fees and did. And he wants to come back tomorrow. He even asked what the rates were if he wanted to take you to a hotel room for the night. How do you do it?”
“I was trying to push him to over two hours to get an even higher rate. Managing bruisers like him is all in the timing,” Rab answered. “They want to be shown they are the scariest thing in the West and then, whether they know it or not, they want to think they are the world’s greatest lover. I just help them to think both ways. It was a little rough, though. I’m not sure I could have taken him again. Is it possible to call it a day? I’ve had three of those today already, although that one was, by far, the most taxing. What a magnificent body that bruiser had on him.”
“Would you go with him overnight?”
“Sure, if the money was good and the hotel had strong beds. God, he could fuck. And his body was magnificent—much better than trying to pull the cum out of some of the ugly old men who come in here. So, can I call it a day?”
The pimp pursed his lips. “Gee I don’t know. You’re down for another one in an hour. Same plan.”
“What is it with the business now?”
“The fleet’s in. Another couple of days and it will be dead again.”
They both looked up, sensing that something overpowering had just moved into the reception area. It was a big black bruiser, and even with what had already walked through the doors that day, he qualified as big. And he looked mad at the world and ready to kill something—and fully capable of doing so just with his hands.
“That the next appointment for the dungeon?” Rab asked.
“Yes. Early, probably anxious, but he looks bad. If you don’t want to—”
“Naw, it’ll be a piece of cake,” Rab said. “If it’s the last one I have to take today, of course. A piece of cake. All you have to do is cower for them and then make them think they’re the world’s greatest lover. Some of them are actually pretty good. That last one was hung and could fuck forever. I was having trouble not enjoying it from the beginning and was thinking of taking him home.”