Augmentations
by AKA
Thing is? Walking in? He didn’t look all that impressive. I mean, sure, he looked fucking amazing as hell, but I’d seen better. All these so-called couture babies were growing up, and when your parents are hand-picking your vitals from a catalog, you’re bound to be good looking, right?
Still, there’s handsome and then there’s drop-dead gorgeous, and he easily fit into the latter category, but I still had my doubts about the whole thing, particularly when the money transfer went through and the dent in my bank account showed up. Who pre-pays for these things? I mean, I’ve had my share - maybe more than my share - of professional sex. Ever since it was legal, I’ve been a happy customer of some of the most talented, beautiful and fucking dirty-minded men in the world.
I can afford it, so what the hell, right?
Still, this guy came with quite a pedigree, not to mention some hard-to-believe claims that two of my own buddies were more than happy to acknowledge. “Don’t want to spoil him for you,” they said, grinning like schoolboys who just discovered the stash of porn mags in the garage. “But you’ll be satisfied.”
So here he was now, all six feet six inches of him. Again, I’d seen bigger. And, sure, I’d have to admit that the overall impression of his entrance was both impressive and a little staggering. He was clothed, or very nearly. He had the licenses for public nudity and public sex - I made sure that this place also had the requisite licenses - so there was really no reason for him to be, but I appreciated the conceit. I’d paid for him, after all. He really shouldn’t be giving any of it away for free, even if a look at his goods amounted to advertising. Plus, there was always the problem of an accidental bonding with someone else. Supposedly they’d fixed that with the pre-bonding DNA requirement that was now part of the contract, but a little caution never hurt.
I was sitting at my table near the back. Isolated, a bit, because one never knows what’s going to happen and even though I like a good, horny public romp as much as the next dude, unless I’m the one getting paid there’s no fucking way I’m putting on a show for anyone.
Watching him walk toward me was fun. He had a very good walk, like his hips were oiled. Oddly, his shoelaces were undone and dragged along the carpet. He had a hand on his crotch, as if he had to hold himself in or the fucking thing was going to rip itself free and start fucking the nearest ass. He walked slowly, taking off his jacket as he walked and then stripping a pair of sleek black leather gloves from his hands. His eyes were locked on me the whole time. I admit, it got my heart racing as his features became clearer and I got to watch the whole of his incredible body work across the darkened bar towards me.
He placed his jacket on the back of his chair. “Hello,” he said, simple as that. He was standing there looking down at me. I was sitting there at crotch-level to him. His bulge was prominent, insistent, grandiose. He wasn’t wearing underwear, or if he was it was made of something so sheer and material so thin that the basic outline of his ample equipment was easily distinguished. I could see everything as if he were already naked. It made my own cock slowly plump, and I could feel myself getting physically warmer in his presence.
“Hi,” I answered back, trying to sound nonchalant. My mouth had gone dry and I think I licked my lips. He smiled, then, and I felt like he knew he already had me - not that there was ever any doubt about who was in charge of the situation, even though I had initiated the meeting. Still, it was both disconcerting and a major turn-on for me to note his dominance without doing anything but walking in the room.
He was wearing an outfit that I had prescribed for him. Blue jeans, white t-shirt, Converse All Stars. The jeans hung low on his hips, and the shirt’s hem rode high, revealing a slim line of bared skin and a small, smiling naval. A slim vertical trail of dark curls ran a straight line through his evident abdominal bulges, hinting at the fullness of the furry bush crowning his glorious manhood. I could smell him very distinctly, the stink of his sweat and ass mingling with something else, something more refined, but no less enticing to me.
How he had managed to squeeze himself into his clothing was something I intended to ask when it was all over. I mean, they looked like the same things I would buy, but they clung to his muscles in a most unusual and highly erotic fashion. Here was a man whose body was pumping out so much testosterone it was practically leaking onto the floor, and whose brain was concerned with one goal and one goal only at the moment - to make me happy.
I just wanted to enjoy this moment. Just drink him in, all his beauty, all his power, all his pure overwhelming masculine presence.
He was standing there looking all kinds of amazing. He was exactly what I wanted, exactly what I had ordered. Maybe he wasn’t what I wanted, or maybe I didn’t know what I wanted until he appeared before me now after a single click of my mouse on a button that read “Submit.”
Funny, that.
He had dark hair and blue eyes, a contrast I find both striking and sexy. His eyes were blue, but of a certain hue. Not an average blue, of course. Who would spend all this money for average anything? No, his eyes were the color of the sky at dawn, darker at the rim than at the center. Long lashes, too. Something about long eye lashes - I just really like them.
His face was achingly handsome. Almost too perfect, but with enough character to make him appear human and approachable. I knew that when I touched him, when I touched his skin, it would feel warm and silken under my fingers. It would provide an enhanced tactile pleasure as if it were designed to do so, because it was. His eyes looked down at my face with something like love, or so I imagined. It was all he could do to stand there like that without attacking me. That’s how badly he wanted me, to be with me, to give me pleasure and make me feel so good that all I would ever want was to be with him.
And he was capable of doing that, which slightly scared me - at least, it did the first time I’d experienced one of these fine young men. It was like being a drug addict surrounded with syringes filled with the purest heroin the market could provide. Something so good that you couldn’t put it down or leave it behind, and that you would do anything, pay anything, to have it.
But the fantasy is always better than the reality, isn’t it? Even when the two collide, like they did in him? “Please,” I said finally, “have a seat.”
He nodded and I watched him, marveling in every movement of that gloriously muscular body. I could see all his brawn bulge and flex, watch the muscle shift under his silken skin, watch that fat, huge prick shift and move in its denim basket, thick and firm and luscious in its perfection and abundance. He moved his perfect ass into the seat across the table from mine and set his palms on the crisp white table cloth, resting one on the other. A fine network of veins moved up his forearms and over the masses of meat bulging from his upper arms.
The sleeves of his t-shirt shrank up and away from the rounded balls of muscle, offering a peek at the moist, soft forest of fur within his warm pits, smelling so strongly of his musk. “I like this place,” he said. His voice was a resonant bass, almost absurdly masculine in tone, as if his words were falling from his mouth like hard stones with smooth surfaces. I wanted to hear him whispering filth into my ears as I felt him enter me from behind, shoving every thick inch of his miraculous cock up my ass.
“Do you want something to drink?” I asked.
A slight smile touched his lips. My God, I thought, his mind is so dirty. I knew exactly what he was thinking, what he wanted to say, that he was imagining my prick between his full, soft lips as he sucked and I came and shot thick, hot fountains of cream down his throat as he hungrily guzzled. “Beer,” he said, and then the smile increased slightly, and he added, “for now.”
I lifted my eyes away from him and signaled a waiter, whose attention we already possessed. Or he did, at least. I was good looking, in an average human way, but nothing compared to the man sitting across from me. I could feel my gaze being drawn back to him like a magnet to a lode stone. I could not not look at him. The waiter said something but I was already lost in a haze of desire, so he said, “Beer, please. Anything on tap. As long as it’s cold.”
The waiter responded again, but it was now as if no one else existed but him. He was doing it, already. But I couldn’t think, and didn’t want to. “You’re beautiful,” I told him, needlessly. But he was obviously pleased by my compliment, and he reached his hand towards mine as his smile increased several watts in power.
“Thank you,” he said softly. As his fingertips rested on the back of my hand, my whole body registered the touch. I knew it was coming, but now that he had touched me, even with so slight a brush of his flesh to mine and the contract was completed, I felt a rush of blood to my extremities and face. I silently thanked whomever had kept the place so dimly lit, so that I could avoid embarrassing myself in his eyes.
An electric shock of erotic promise shot through me. My cock twitched hard and my nipples tingled and the hairs on my neck and the back of my head stood on end. My face felt hot and my fingers felt cold as the blood inside me shifted, rushing into my prick and lighting my erogenous zones up like a pinball machine. Or was it the bonding? I wasn’t supposed to feel it, but I felt something. Probably the excitement of the moment. Was I so easily seduced?
But who wouldn’t be? Who could resist him? Who would even want to?
He pulled his hand back, probably realizing the effect the slight touch of him was having on me, and settled into his chair, shifting the masses of raw brawn in a most agreeable fashion. I watched his nipples, each perfect dark circle mounted at the edge of those thick mountains of muscle, rise and press intently against the white cotton of his shirt and ached to lick them and feel them swell and harden. The outline of his shoulders, the thick lobes of power swelling against each other, rose up beneath the seams. His neck, long and elegant and powerful, flexed with muscle. I could see his pulse along a vein, the strength of his heart, the immense power of his body focused in that small, steady movement. He had no beard to speak of, of course. His flawless features and sculpted jawline was unadorned. His entire body would be smooth and hairless like that. His full, sensuous lips parted as I studied his face, and he said, “May I ask you a question?”
His voice was rich and full, and sent shivers through me. “Of course,” I said.
“Why did you wish to meet here, rather than in your home?”
I cleared my throat and pursed my lips. “Part of the fantasy,” I said, honestly. “Temptation, suspense, the toying of emotions.”
His smile returned. “I see.” His handsome face tilted slightly and he drew his thick eyebrows together over those blue, blue eyes. “What role do I play in this? Should I be the hunter or the quarry?”
“Either would suffice,” I replied, “but let’s be honest here - if anyone is the quarry, it’s you.”
“A captive?” He asked it with something like hope in his voice. I wondered if his cock was swelling, and wanted to watch it.
“A prize,” I said, warming to the conversation. “It’s how this commonly works, you know, between two people.”
“Tell me,” he said, genuinely intrigued. If he was faking it, he was doing it convincingly.
“There are any number of ways for people to meet, but usually only one goal.”
“Sex,” he said, speaking the word like a seduction.
“Initially,” I clarified, “but if the two people click…” His eyebrow ached elegantly, and I said, “If they… have a connection. If they get along on several wavelengths, not just physically.” He made an ‘O’ with his mouth and nodded understanding. “Then they may choose to become a couple.”
“A couple of what?” His sense of humor seemed so dry, I doubted that he had one. Was he kidding, or was he honestly so young? These days, it was hard to tell. Everything was accelerated, but he was legal, and that was all that mattered.
“Just a couple,” I said. “They remain together.”
“Exclusively?” His face showed an incomprehension at the idea.
“Sometimes, sometimes not.” I paused as the beers arrived and were placed between us. He lifted his and waited for me to do the same, then dipped the rim of his glass forward and waited for mine to touch. I smiled at the surprise, because I didn’t expect him to know the custom, but he was very well trained in these things - the things that brought people closer and lead to naked bodies crushed against each other, hot and covered in sweat. “Anyway,” I said, after swallowing, “I thought you would enjoy this. You don’t get out very often, or so I’m told.”
He didn’t answer. He set his glass down and sat forward slowly, his eyes glued to mine. “What do we do, now?”
“Ordinarily I might discuss my job, or my hobbies. Places I’ve been, videos I’ve seen. Then you would reciprocate.”
“I can do that,” he stated, with an odd sense of pride.
“It’s all right,” I answered, “I’d rather listen to you speak.”
“What should I speak about?”
“Tell me about you,” I said. “Tell me how you came to be the man you are, sitting here with me, looking like that.”
His smile was magnificent. His eyes sparkled and his body seemed to swell with pride - or power. “Really?” he asked. “Most people don’t want to know.”
“I want to know,” I said. “Tell me about you.”
“There isn’t much to tell,” he said, his voice low and seductive. Did he intend it to sound that way, or could he not help himself? Was every utterance, every word, every soft sound that escaped those full, kissable lips a seduction?
“Tell me anyway,” I asked, “I like to hear your voice.”
“But you already know all about….”
“Please.”
He paused again, perhaps considering how much to divulge, before he spoke again. “There are two types. Augmentation and amplification. I’ve had several of both.”
“Amplification?” I asked, smiling slightly and remembering the feeling of stretching my jaw open, almost painfully, to accommodate someone of his girth.
His smile dazzled. His talented tongued darted forward and painted a sheen of spit across his lower lip. It gleamed like a swollen cock head. “Amplifications are generally physical or medical, but may also be mental. Augmentations can be cognitive, psychic, tactile, sensual… things of that nature.”
“And you?”
“The works,” he said. “And a few of them have been given supplemental strength.”
“Which ones?”
“Muscular-skeletal, obviously.” I allowed my eyes to drop along the lines of his body. He seemed to swell outward as he spoke, making the seams of his tight clothes strain. His hand moved over his chest and belly and under the table, and he started moving his grip over the bulging mass of cockmeat held captive in his jeans, grinning lasciviously. “Genital.”
“Obviously.”
“Cognitive, psychic and a few… special upgrades.”
“Cognitive?”
“It helps me anticipate your desires.”
“And psychic?”
“More… active mental gymnastics. It helps you enjoy it more. Just a gentle nudge here and there. Sometimes to soften my… the... impact. And inhibitions have a tendency to decrease my success rate.”
“What about licenses?”
He counted them off on his fingers. They were beautiful fingers. His nails shone like polished stones. “Escort, sexual surrogate, sexual training, public nudity, public sex, nothing too unusual.” He met my eyes and smiled.
I swallowed hard. There was nothing he couldn’t do. No act he was incapable of performing, no request he couldn’t satisfy completely, immediately, and perfectly.
Not everyone could afford him. His services, that is. And it was hard not to think of him as a sort of slave, though it was equally hard to imagine that he was suffering in any way. As I sat there looking at him, knowing what I had in mind for him and me, a kind of glee ran through me, like a child on Christmas morning when it was finally time to open the presents. “And the others?”
A smile lit his lips. “Yes?”
“What do you talk about when you’re alone?”
“With the others?” I nodded, watching the spark of interest in his gaze. Something else lit his features now, besides my presence. The memory of his brother initiates, and what they do together. “There isn’t much talk,” he answered.
“Much? Or none at all?”
His head tilted. “Enough.”
“Enough for what?”
He leaned in conspiratorially. “Enough to say ‘fuck me,’ or ‘this is going to feel amazing,’ or ‘I’m gonna cum.’”
“General warnings,” I said.
“Advice,” he countered.
“Are you happy?”
“I’m very happy,” he said. “but I could be happier.”
“How?”
“To be naked for you. To be naked with you. To pull off these clothes, strip myself of them, for you. Get hard for you. To fuck you. To feel you fucking me. To suck your dick until you cum.”
Jesus, my cock was hard. “Is it the same with everyone?”
“It’s different with everyone.” His breath was warm across the table.
“I mean, do you end up doing things with everyone the same way?”
“Tonight, right now, I only want to be with you,” he said.
I dropped it. Why spoil the moment? And maybe he actually did want to be with me more than anyone else in the room. Probably that was true, because he was mine tonight, and only for me. Everything about him, from the way he looked to the way he spoke to the way he moved, acted, dressed… he was everything I desired. He was perfect.
“You said augmentation and amplification.”
“I did,” he acknowledged.
“And you were...”
“I was perfected,” he stated.
That was true. I let my eyes explore his beauty. God, he was magnificent. So huge, so powerful, so strong. Just the thought of him naked, again, the idea of seeing him in my bed, his body sprawled out gloriously, his cock at attention, and all he wanted was me. I squeezed my ass and made my cock pulse and shove inside my pants. “Public nudity?”
“And public sex,” he stated, hopefully. He placed his hands at the hem of his shirt and pulled the material up, revealing the perfection of his body. “We can do it right now,” he said, slowly circling his right nipple with the middle finger of his right hand. His chin dipped and his eyes closed and he sank into a moment of bliss. “Come on,” he whispered, coarsely. His blue eyes opened and focused on mine. “Let me get you out of those clothes. My cock hurts, it’s so hard for you. I want to slam you down on this table and shove myself deep inside. I want you to feel every fat inch of me. Right now.”
He leaned back and started to caress the enormous length of dick shoving so hard against its confines that the teeth of his zipper were pulling apart.
In my head, I saw the two of us pushing the beers and flowers and tablecloth from the space between us, and he was literally ripping his body free of its clothing, exposing every perfectly formed inch of his powerful frame, the bulging biceps, the massive pecs, the tight six-pack belly, the long powerful legs and of course that beast at his loins, the insatiable and constantly swollen monster that did whatever I wanted. He was built for sex and every physical act, able to do anything I wanted of him, whether it was to me or for me or from me, and every act would leave him begging for more. “Your beer is getting warm.”
“I want to fuck you,” he said softly, brushing a hand through his dark mane. My eye was drawn to his bicep. Big as a grapefruit, hard as steel. “I want to see your naked body. I want to lick your ass and taste your hole. I want to smell your stink. I want to shove my hard cock so deeply inside you that you’ll scream.”
Fuck, this was so hot. “What else?”
He leaned forward slowly, the words emitting from his lips like promises. “I want to ride you,” he said. “I want to be on top of you, and inside you, pumping hard. I want to kiss your mouth and suck your tongue and wrap my strong arms around your body. I want to crush you, to make you feel my power, my strength, my muscles. I want you to cum so hard your eyes roll back in your head and your breath escapes your lungs and you feel your balls empty.”
“Right here?”
He nodded.
“Right now?”
He smiled.
“Fuck,” I whispered, sorely tempted.
He lifted the shirt up his body and pulled it over his head. His muscular development was awesome. He was huge everywhere. Perfectly proportioned pecs with silver-dollar nipples spread thick and huge across his chest. His arms were overwhelmed with muscle. His shoulders and delts were packed with brawn. Fat lobes and thick cables and hard wedges of muscle bulged beneath his flawless, silky skin.
He set the shirt on the table and stood up, half-naked already, and set his fingers to pry his belt buckle open. It clattered and rang out loudly as it fell apart, and he was watching my reaction as he undid the button at the top of his low-hanging jeans and started to pull the crotch open. The slim dark trail of curls erupted into a thick, shiny bush of rough pubes. The heavy root of his massive shank of cockflesh appeared as the zipper peeled apart. He dipped his paw inside the sweaty, warm basket of his jeans and grabbed onto the mass of his shaft and started to extract himself, tugging and pulling inch after heavy inch of cock into the open.
It began to throb and pulse as it struck the air. He rubbed his thumb over the helmet and drew away a gleaming droplet of his own precum and lifted it to his lips, sliding his thumb inside his mouth and sucking the salty essence. His tight pants still clung to his bulbous and meaty ass even after he had managed to pull his cock and balls free. His cock continued to rise to its majestic and impossible fullness, swelling thicker and harder and longer with each passing second. His balls looked like two hen’s eggs, and his huge prick wavered like a flagpole in a stiff breeze as he circled the table towards me. “Do you want to suck me?” he asked, needlessly.
Of course I did. My god, I did! He was getting bigger by the second. How big was he? How big would he get? I tried to pull a calming breath into my lungs even as I stared longingly at the magnificence of his erection. Veins popped along the shaft. The head was shiny in the dim light, and the eye was open to emit a surge of clear honey that grew into a fat orb before its weight caused it to drizzle in a thick river down his dick.
I moved my hand toward him and dipped my touch into the richness of his precum, running my fingers up several inches of his fat cock to gather a thick gob of his salty essence. I drew them from his fount and sucked them through my lips, slurping his honey onto my tongue. Of course he tasted good. A rich tang of sex erupted inside my mouth and his scent grew strong and heavy in my senses. I watched his prick drool as I sucked his taste off my fingertips, feeling the rich heat of him against my face.
“Take your pants off,” I said. The muscles of his arms twisted like cobras under his skin. The mountainous muscle hanging from his chest bunched and spread as he worked his jeans off his hips and over the supreme roundness of his powerfully built ass. Another eruption of his masculine scent rose from him as he exposed his sweaty crotch. Two fat balls, heavy with his seed, fell forward and down, hanging like massive eggs atop the finely veined muscles lining his thighs.
He had to push the jeans off his legs. Then he stepped out of them and I realized he’d already removed his shoes - he had anticipated this! Probably planned it! That was the reason for his undone laces. Fuck, the man read me like a book.
He pushed the discarded jeans aside with his foot and then stood there, naked and glorious, shameless and justifiably proud. His massive cock, a foot long if it was an inch, was still throbbing toward its ultimate size. Already firm but visibly swelling, the mouth of his manhood was pumping a steady drizzle of precum. It coated his helmet like glass and flowed thickly down his shaft. His scent was thick and rich and heady, now. Ass and balls and sweat and muscle. “Come closer,” I said softly.
He did, taking a step forward. The monstrous erection rising from between his powerful legs slowly rocked side to side. “Lick me,” he said, both a command and a supplication. He needed my mouth on his prick. He wanted to feel me worship him.
I leaned forward, and then smiled and looked up into those blue eyes. “No,” I said. God, I wanted to. My God, I did.
“Please,” he said, softer still. His voice was gruff and raspy, the sound of tectonic plates rubbing against each other.
“No,” I answered again.
His hands balled into fists. The muscles of his torso bulged with a sudden fierceness and thick veins stood out on his neck and arms. “I’m gonna fucking explode,” he said.
I smiled. I wanted him to. “I want you to.”
“Please,” he begged. “Please.”
“No,” I answered.
“M’gonna cum,” he whispered. Still so much power in his voice. “You’re making me cum.”
“Don’t,” I said. “Don’t cum.”
His balls were churning. His cock was steel hard, and hotter than the sun. I knew his flood was pushing for its release. The dam was going to burst. “Oh, fuck,” he said.
I reached out and grabbed his dick hard, squeezing his shaft. Fuck, he was hard! It was like squeezing a rock! Was his cock made of muscle? Could a cock get that hard? “Don’t cum,” I said. “I don’t want you to cum.”
“Can’t,” he whimpered. “Can’t hold it.”
“Why do you have to cum?”
“Because of you,” he said. “Oh, fuck, I want you so bad. I need you so bad.”
There was strain and desire in his voice. His cock was thick and hard and pulsing. “Will you cum without my permission?”
“No,” he said. “No,” again, softer. But the muscles of his body were stark and bulging against his flesh. Veins were everywhere. It seemed like he was truly about to explode, as if the action of withholding the wealth of cream in his balls from erupting up and out the fat inches of his magnificent prick was causing his whole body to swell with brawn.
He was so close. Already on the verge of a huge ejaculation and we hadn’t kissed, hadn’t done anything at all. Just my proximity and his bond to me, now. My very presence made him this way. The scent of me. The sensation of my closeness. He was doomed from the moment he touched my hand.
I’m sure everyone was watching us. I’m sure they couldn’t avoid it. The majestic naked man, his foot-long cock engorged and throbbing, drooling precum onto the crisp white tablecloth as I squeezed it as if milking him. His huge body, overwhelmed with muscle, standing tall and true and awaiting my desire, my wish, my command. “When I place my lips to your cock head,” I said, very slowly, “you may cum in my mouth.”
“Thank you,” he answered.
“But not until then,” I added, stroking the full length of him. He was so hot under my touch. His blood was on fire. His cock bulged against my hand and his balls churned and moved with the full load of his cream.
“I understand,” he said.
“Are you ready?”
“Fuck, yes,” he stated. “Oh, fuck, I want to cum inside your mouth. Oh, fuck, I can hardly hold on. I want you so, so badly.”
I licked my lips. His monstrous meat throbbed angrily an inch from my mouth. The tip drooled a steady stream of precum and full, thick veins wound around the shaft like lightning bolts. The wealth of his foreskin was stripped back and the helmet was shiny and red. It jutted forward from him like a tree limb, its weight and heft keeping it at a 90-degree angle from his perfect muscular body. It bulged with his need, and grew fatter as I watched it.
I leaned slowly forward and opened my mouth. I darted my tongue forward and touched it to the end of his prick, tasting his salty essence and drawing back a thin clear string of honey. The tang of his taste coated my lips and I sucked it off. He pulled in a sudden deep breath and his hands balled into fists. I was torturing him, and we were both enjoying it.
His cock was magnificent. I could’ve remained seated there in that dark bar with his huge meat throbbing before me forever. It was a thing of gorgeous masculine power and immense sexual might, thick and powerful and juicy, ready to go off and fountain his massive flood of hot cream, the ultimate expression of his desire and his power.
A deep groan escaped his chest. His cobblestone belly heaved with each breath. Trickles of sweat, scented with his intense funky spice, wound through the curls on his huge pecs. A droplet clung to one nipple, quivering and plump.
I smiled and licked my lips, staring forward at his cock. Another drizzle of precum grew to a fat ball of honey and drooled from the eye. “Please,” he begged me. “Please…”
I pursed my lips and leaned forward. I kissed the tip of it. He was hot and hard. A slick of precum coated my lips. He nearly came. I felt him surge and bulge as I kissed him, but he managed to contain his load for another heartbeat.
He was right on the verge. Right on the edge. He could probably feel it pushing up the inches of his prick, filling it up with his seed, ready to explode with a fat, thick spray. I licked the tip and sucked his clear honey inside my mouth. “You’re perfect,” I said.
Then I opened my mouth and welcomed him inside.
He immediately exploded. His first blast more than filled my mouth, and I nearly choked on the wealth of his fountain. It squirted out between my lips and his shaft and another fat gush was already following it up. He groaned again and sighed and came again. The third as full and rich as the first. I guzzled and gulped and swallowed as fast as I could manage, feeling his heat and power flowing down my throat and into my belly.
He came copiously and continuously and fully. Gushing blasts of his cream filled my mouth. A dozen thick thrusting gouts of hot cream and he still wasn’t done. I drank it all down, every drop I could keep in my mouth, feeding my need for his strength and beauty and power as if he was giving it to me through this thick fount. I grabbed onto his ass and held him inside and he started to thrust and fuck my face. I sucked and slurped and wrapped my tongue around his fat cock and felt it surge and bulge as he came over and over.
At last he sighed and I felt his hands on my face, his warm palms against my cheeks, and he lifted my eyes to his face and his beautiful smile and he said, “Thank you.”
I pulled my mouth off his still drooling cock, sucking off the last precious drops of pearlescent cream, and licked my lips of his taste. “You’re very welcome,” I said. “That was amazing.”
He winked. “And we’ve only started.”
His cock, all twelve thick inches of it, swung like a pendulum as he moved back toward his seat and sat down as his beer arrived. His dick was throbbing a steady beat against his 8-pack as he reached forward and took the sweating glass into his hand, swigging down a heavy gulp of the bitter brew before setting the half-empty glass back on the table and setting his hand to his upright cock, slowly stroking its inches as it eagerly retained its erect status. “You okay?” I asked, eyeing his non-stop erection.
He nodded and said, “I’m perfect.” He gazed down at his amazing prick and wound the pad of his thumb around the head, coating the glossy helmet. “Would you prefer that I…?”
“No, no,” I answered quickly. “If you can stay that way…”
“I can,” he answered. “As long as you want me to.”
It was going to be a very interesting evening.