A Different Fountain of Youth
The texts began shortly before midnight, the buzz of his phone on the nightstand waking him, even in "sleep" mode. At first the old bodybuilder shrugged it off -- he had a fairly good idea who it was and what they wanted -- and they weren't ripe enough yet, anyway -- but when the dull banging began on the front door, he knew he could ignore it no longer.
Dressed in only his flannel pajama bottoms -- cut off at the knee to expose his gigantic calves (he hadn't worn pants in over twenty-five years, he bragged) -- he walked down the carpeted stairs to the front door, his stark white hair almost glowing in the darkness. He was a large man. Even in the streams of moonlight coming through the curtains, it was easy to make out his imposing shape. He'd been a weight-lifter most of his life and carried a certain kind of thickness only sported by men who'd spent decades pounding iron -- and carried HIMSELF with the confidence of a man who'd had a superior body for decades.
He'd be damned if he'd ruin that by getting old.
When he suddenly turned on the outside light, the pounding abruptly stopped. "Who's there?" he growled at the door, even though he knew perfectly well who it was.
"Daddy?" A weak, desperate sound. "Please. I can't stand it anymore. Please… they HURT!"
The old bodybuilder opened the door, revealing the figure of a lean, young man bathed in the soft glow of the porch light. The boy was maybe 5'8"/ 5'9" about 160lbs, lean in a way that was characteristic of swimmers or long-distance runners, athletic but skinny. Somewhere in his early twenties, he probably shaved once a week, his tight, flawless skin making him look even younger. A tousle of ordinary brown hair that looked slept-on wrong topped a face that was less handsome than pretty. Sure, maybe someday it would mature into handsome, but right now it was the fresh-face of youth. Only his eyes had any fire, bright green and lively.
He was dressed in sweat pants, flip flops and a tank top that exposed his lean arms -- he had an air of desperation about him.
"Thank God," he said when the old bodybuilder opened the door. "I'm so sorry. I know you said to wait, but I can't stand it anymore! I can't stand it!" He collapsed on the old bodybuilder, hugging the old man's muscular torso, laying his head on the bodybuilder's massive pec. Sobbing, desperate. "I'm so sorry, Daddy! I tried to wait… but they HURT!"
The old bodybuilder held the boy and stroked his head while he wept. Finally, he shut the front door and said, "It's okay, boy. The first time can be scary. C'mon inside and let's see what's going on."
The boy allowed himself to be led to the living room. He babbled. "I mean, I've been horny as fuck, but I can't cum. I CAN'T CUM! It's driving me fucking crazy. I stroke and stroke… almost… almost… but it doesn't fucking happen. THEY HURT SO FUCKING MUCH!"
"Lemme see," the old bodybuilder said, sitting on the hassock before the boy.
"When was the last time you saw them?" the boy asked, hands on the waist of his sweatpants. "Three... four days ago? You complimented me on them…"
The old bodybuilder smiled. "You have beautiful balls," he said. "Golden eggs!"
"Well, they're a little bigger than that now," the boy said, lowering the sweats. Instead of his normal boxer shorts, the boy wore a runner's jock, the thin waist strap low on the pubis, barely atop the root of his cock. The pouch itself was stretched nearly to the point of giving way, stuffed full of the boy's swollen, avocado-sized balls. Between the pull of his nads and the squeeze of the pouch, the boy's cock was nearly hard, ready to bust its way out of the cotton fabric any second. "LOOK at them!"
The old bodybuilder did look, and he couldn't help but lick his lips -- they were huge.
"What's happening to me?" the boy asked.
The old bodybuilder ignored him. "Beautiful," he mumbled, gently cupping the boy's sac in his hand, weighing it almost -- the boy gasped. "You sure you wanna cum? I think you could grow these a little more…"
The boy may not've liked the idea, but his cock did -- it throbbed a bit in its cotton prison. "Aw, fuck no!" the boy moaned. "You don't understand. They ACHE… Please..."
When the old bodybuilder rubbed the over-sized sac with his hand, the boy moaned loudly -- his cock got even harder, straining down the front of the pouch, the head clearly visible through the stretched fibers of the material. Holding the boy's balls in his hand, the old bodybuilder licked the material covering the boy's cock, soaking it in his spit.
"Oh…. Daddy," the boy whimpered. "Please…"
Guiding him by the hips, the old bodybuilder sat the boy on the hassock, sliding himself to his knees on the floor between the boy's legs. Slipping a couple of thick fingers beneath the band of the boy's jockstrap, the old bodybuilder released the boy's cock, but left his nads trapped in the pouch -- the elastic of the waistband slid up under the base of the boy's erection, tickling him. The boy's cock was significantly bigger than the last time the old bodybuilder had seen it, as well -- the boy probably hadn't realized it because his balls were so freakishly out of proportion. Their firmness and swollen fresh pinkness made them irresistible. The boy's cock stood nearly nine inches straight up, a tiny line of pre-cum stringing down to the root -- the old bodybuilder licked that up pretty quickly. Ambrosia.
When he took the boy's cock in his mouth, just the flared head, he tasted another release of pre -- delicious, teasing. He played with the head for another few moments, hoping for more, then finally took the whole of the boy's cock in his mouth, burying his nose in the boy's neatly trimmed pubes.
The boy grabbed either side of the hassock and leaned back, his abs catching the light from above them, highlighting his skinny-boy eight pack. His breath was already hitching, and the old bodybuilder wondered if the boy would even last ten minutes -- probably not. He'd clearly never gotten head before, not from the way he was reacting.
The possibility of a virgin turned the old bodybuilder on even more and he set to work in earnest, bobbing his head up and down the boy's shaft squeaky smooth, making sure his thick white mustache tickled the boy, too -- the boy was a bubbling brook of pre-cum. The old bodybuilder would be sucking the flavor out of his white whiskers for days.
Deftly, he pulled the jockstrap down and released the boy's smooth, swollen balls, cupping them in one hand until he'd pulled the strap completely off, then holding them reverently in both, stroking them and and gently pulling them down in counter-rhythm to his mouth. They were massive -- did he say avocados? Maybe he meant mangos…
The boy was trying to find a balancing place between pain and pleasure -- he didn't know what to do with his hands, so he kept holding the hassock, although he'd felt an urge to pinch his own nipple. He didn't know why.
The old bodybuilder rolled the boy's gigantic balls back and forth, then began running one hand up and down the back of them while the other cupped their base. He settled the moving hand at the top of the boy's sac, ran fingers up either side of the boy's taint, then began playing with the boy's tight hole, all the while sucking the boy's rock hard cock. The boy was panting now, thrusting his hips into the old bodybuilder's face. On the edge again, ready, so, so ready to blow his load.
The old bodybuilder knew this and slipped his thick middle finger into the boy's hole, quickly finding the boy's prostate and pressing that button for all its worth. The boy released the sides of the hassock, grabbing the old bodybuilder's head and began to orgasm, pushing his cock deep into the old bodybuilder's throat. He didn't just moan -- he screamed.
The old bodybuilder had tasted plenty of the boy's pre, but was surprised by the volume -- even HE didn't expect the boy to pack such a punch. Each of the boy's squirts nearly filled his mouth -- he had to time his swallows to match the boy's ejaculations.
The boy came. And came. His orgasm lasted nearly two minutes, the most incredible, mind-blowing thing he'd ever felt.
And the old bodybuilder swallowed it all, every drop, until his own belly was distended from the creamy ambrosia. But whether the old bodybuilder came or not, the boy didn't know -- he was so exhausted, he could barely focus. He passed out as his boy-cock still dribbled some remaining drops -- but don't worry, the old bodybuilder got those, too.
When the boy finally awoke, the first thing he realized was that the sun was up -- it was morning. It must be hours later. He was lying in an unfamiliar bed.
The next thing he realized was that his balls didn't ache anymore. Not at all. As a matter of fact, they felt totally normal. When he touched them, he found them more sensitive than they'd been -- but at least they were back to normal size. His cock, on the other hand, was definitely bigger than it had been. How about that -- the old bodybuilder had told him the truth…
His rumination -- and masturbation -- was interrupted by the bedroom door opening. The boy pulled his hands away from his genitals, like he'd been caught doing something bad.
"Good morning!" the bodybuilder in the doorway said, but it wasn't the man the boy remembered. The boy was sure the bodybuilder's hair had been stark white, with a matching white mustache -- but this man had hair that could only be described as "salt & pepper", even his mustache was mostly black. Something was different about his skin, too -- it was… tighter.
It was the same guy, obviously the same guy, but he looked different. Younger.
The boy didn't know why he'd described the guy as an old bodybuilder, when clearly, in the light of day, he was middle-aged -- maybe 45 on the out side. His eyes sparkled with mischief. "How do you feel?" he asked, his voice not quite as rough.
"Really great, thank you." The boy smiled, softly rubbing his balls. "You weren't kidding about how powerful that would be. Wow."
"Yeah?" the big man said, flexing his pecs. "You wanna go again?"
The boy laughed, embarrassed. "I don't if I can go again right now…" he said, although his cock kind of liked the idea.
The middle-aged bodybuilder chuckled. "No, I mean the peptides. Do you wanna do the injection again?"
The boy realized what he meant, and self-consciously cupped his ball sac. "Will it… Will it feel like it did last night?"
"Better if you let it… brew longer."
The boy smiled -- he didn't even hesitate. "Let's do it."
And that's how he found himself in the bodybuilder's kitchen, bent over the center island, as the middle-aged bodybuilder pulled a small vial from his refrigerator and filled the tiniest of insulin syringes. The boy knew from experience it wouldn't hurt, so when he felt the bodybuilder pinch the back of his balls, he got an erection right as the tip of the needle entered his sac. In a second, it was over.
The boy slid his sweatpants on, stuffing the well-stretched jockstrap in his pocket. He could already feel the peptide working -- churning in his nuts. Damn, it felt good.
The middle-aged bodybuilder smiled, his (mostly) black mustache contrasting his white teeth. "Let's see if you can go longer than three days this time," he said playfully, throwing one big arm around the boy's shoulders.
They laughed and kissed awkwardly at the door, like friends, then the boy went his merry way. "I don't want to see you for at least a week," the bodybuilder said. "Seriously. You can do it."
The boy blew him a silly kiss from his car.
That evening, just after the bodybuilder had finished his workout and was thinking about something to eat, there came a dull pounding on his front door.
He opened it to reveal a beautiful ginger boy, no more than eighteen, built like a wrestler or gymnast, big arms and no waist. He wore underarmor compression shorts which were stretched to the limit by his gigantic balls. It took both his hands to support their weight -- crazy unreal.
"Ok, Coach" the ginger boy said, panting. "It's been two weeks. A record, you said. Now you gotta get me off. Please, they hurt so much -- they ACHE."
The bodybuilder smiled, inadvertently licking his dark mustache. "You picked a good time," he said, drawing the boy inside, "I just finished working out and I'm STARVING…"
He shut the door behind them.