Something Different
by Richard Jasper
This is different!, Jeff thought.
Jeff loved visiting his friends Brad and Keith. They threw fabulous parties when he came down to Houston, inviting tons of interesting people, dishing out the food, handing out the drinks. Jeff wasn't much of a drinker but he didn't mind getting plotzed once or twice a year, especially if all he had to do afterwards was navigate his way to the guest bedroom.
But there he was in the master suite, more than halfway plotzed, sitting on the sofa with Gina, of all people, the door to the living / party area carefully closed. At 29, Jeff was a thoroughly committed homosexual male and rightly considered himself an outstanding example of the species.
Gina, though, Gina was something different!
For one thing, she was all of 5 ft. tall, which made her exactly a foot shorter than Jeff, and she was all of 90 lbs. All of it in exactly the right female places; even Jeff, ardent homosexualist that he was, could tell that.
Well, he thought, how could I miss it?
Gina was totally nude, except for a cape that hang down her back, as if she were some cross between Supergirl and Lady Godiva. She shucked her clothes after the first martini and Jeff's mouth had just fallen open when he saw her parading through the kitchen in spike heels and cape.
Gina claimed to be 35 but she had the body of a well-toned teenage gymnast, honey hair, golden tan, with a curly light brown lady bush, and, my god, the most perfectly shaped breasts he'd ever seen.
Not that he'd seen many, mind you, but Jeff was a big boy, in more than one way, and a former football player, and more than one hot girl had tried (unsuccessfully) to cop his manhood.
They don't even jiggle, he said to himself as he gawked. It's like they're carved out of marble. They gotta be fake!
Jeff knew a thing or two about being carved out of marble. A former football player, he had taken up bodybuilding with a passion when he'd stopped playing for the Cougars.
Not professionally, of course. He was too busy pulling down big bucks as a corporate attorney. And just as well for all those guys who were competing because Jeff would have blown them out of the water if he'd ever stepped on the stage. He was frickin' huge, his 6 ft. frame carrying an even 360 lbs. of totally ripped, shredded, fur-covered muscle.
But there he was in Brad and Keith's bedroom with Gina.
"You are one big boy," Gina cooed. She had a delicious personality, totally self-confident, obviously, but also bright and cheerful.
"About the biggest one you're ever likely to see," Jeff replied, somewhat immodestly. "Well, maybe a few but they're not likely to have this much muscle."
Gina purred.
"Just how much DO you weigh?"
He told her:
"360 lbs."
Jeff had thought Gina's nipples were already hard but when he told her his weight he realized they hadn't been hard at all. Now they were.
"That's exactly four times as much as I weigh," Gina said.
Jeff looked at her.
"Do you want to see my muscle?"
Gina nodded.
"Yes, please," she breathed.
Jeff stood up and shucked his shirt.
"Oh my god!" Gina said. "I've never seen anything so huge."
Jeff threw out his 72-inch chest, locked his lats into place, and gave Gina his best double bicep. At 29 inches, his upper arms were bigger than the quads of most pros.
"My chest is as big around as I am tall," Jeff said. "About a foot more than you are, in other words."
Gina's bronze skin was beginning to perspire slightly, the flush spreading down her tight feminine waist, from those perfect boobs to that intriguing place between her thighs.
"How big are you arms?" she asked.
"How big is your waist?" he asked in reply.
"Twenty inches," she answered. "I think I'm too fat, I keep working on it."
Jeff laughed and flexed his forearm for her.
"Twenty-three inches here," he told her. "Three inches more than your waist, and there's nothing fat about it, who are you kidding? And, yeah, most guys would kill to have biceps this big, much less forearms."
"And these?" Gina asked, putting her tiny hands on Jeff's gigantic upper arm. There was no way she could get her hands around the peak, much less Jeff's whole upper arm.
"Twenty-nine inches," Jeff grunted.
Damn, he thought. It's getting hot in here.
"It must be very strong," Gina purred.
Jeff laughed.
"This arm can curl a 200-lb. dumbbell for 20 reps," he pointed out.
Gina's eyes grew wide. She was sitting in his lap now.
"That's more than twice what I weigh," Gina murmured.
Jeff nodded.
"It's about what Brad weighs," he pointed out. "Keith's a lot bigger, about 250, but I can still pick him up over my head with one hand."
Gina's hands went from Jeff's arm to the 8-inch deep cleft between his monstrous pecs.
"I can hide my hold hand in here," Gina marveled.
Jeff smirked.
"See, if you have me around, you'll never need an umbrella -- you can just stand under my pecs!"
Gina was sitting on Jeff's lap now, her hands around his bull neck. He brought his huge paw up and gently brushed the hair from her face.
"Your hands," Gina said, as if just noticing them, "are the hugest things I've ever seen."
She took one and held it in front of her. Jeff's hands made Denis Cyplenkov's look small; they were what marked him as a genetic freak before he ever got out of junior high school. NBA basketball players wished for hands as big as Jeff's.
Gina lifted (well, guided, more like it) Jeff's hand to her neck. Jeff opened his hand and wrapped it around.
"My God," Gina said, "It's true. You can completely encircle my neck with your hand."
With that comment, Jeff became aware that he was completely hard. That, in fact, he'd been hard from the moment Gina had asked him to take off his shirt but he was exponentially harder now, harder than he'd ever been in his life.
This girl has some guts, Jeff thought. I could crush her like a banana.
The idea both excited and repelled him.
God, Jeff thought, what's wrong with me?
"Is it true?" Gina asked suddenly, then patted Jeff's crotch. "Oh, yea, I think so."
Jeff looked at her curiously.
"Is what true?"
"What Brad and Keith say," Gina answered. "About your nickname, Big All Over."
Jeff didn't think it was possible for his dick to get any harder but it did.
"Want to find out?"
Gina nodded.
Jeff pulled his monster python out of his track pants.
"Jesus wept," Gina gasped.
Jeff's tool stood up straight in all it's glory, 13 inches in length, a straight pole 10 inches in circumference.
"Most guys can't handle it," Jeff pointed out. "Occasionally I find someone who can take but it's usually some old fat slob into fisting -- not much fun!"
Gina whispered in Jeff's ear.
"I can take it."
He whispered in hers.
"It would break you in half."
She laughed.
"Honey, the thing you have to remember is that I was on the 1992 U.S. Olympics gymnastics team -- I'm flexible!"
Jeff flicked his fist-sized thumb oh so gently across Gina's quivering nipple.
"Then where did these come from? I've never seen one of those cute gymnast girls with a pair of these!"
Gina smiled.
"Trust fund and the miracles of modern medicine," she replied.
Jeff grinned.
"Well, I gotta tell ya, my momma always taught me to give a lady what she wants..."
"But...?" Gina filled in.
"But I've never done it with one."
Gina gave him a motherly peck on the cheek.
"There's always a first time," she told him, and then planted herself -- ploop! -- on Jeff's throbbing cock.
Jesus! Jeff thought. This feels soooooo fucking good!
"Dayum, girl, what you got in there -- a wormhole?" Jeff moaned. "How are you getting it all in there?"
Gina writhed, the sweat on her body magnetically glued in place.
"Muscle <gasp> control <gasp> baby," Gina said, as she rode Jeff's cock up and down. "It's all <gasp> about <gasp> control."
By that time, Jeff was gasping, too. He'd had plenty of sex in his life but except for a few special occasions it had usually been lacking something; the hot guys he lusted after couldn't accommodate him, the guys who could accommodate him tended to run the gamut from schlub to troll.
But this!
"Jesus," Jeff exclaimed. "It feels SOOO fucking good!"
Gina's eyes had glazed over by that time but, interestingly enough, she was still capable of speech.
"It's"
<gasp>
"What"
<moan>
"It's"
<pant>
"Designed"
<heave>
"For!"
It occurred to Jeff that he could wrap his hand around Gina's waist and use her as a fuck toy.
But why the fuck would I want to do that?
Gina was totally in control.
It went on and on.
For a very long time.
They were vaguely aware of party guests coming in to watch; Gina and Jeff were still going at it long after the voyeurs had shot their loads or soaked their panties.
Finally:
"I'm ready," Gina breathed. "When I say NOW, I want you to shoot."
Jeff had never cum on command for anyone in his life but he'd never gone this long without shooting, either.
"Whatever"
<moan>
"You"
<gasp>
"Say"
<heave>
"NOW!"
The force of Jeff's ejaculation could have dislodged a brahma bull but Gina just clamped down.
"Oh! Ooohh! OOOOHH!!"
Ten minutes later, Gina's spasms subsided, and, slowly, carefully, she pulled herself off Jeff's still semi-turgid dribbling cock.
"Me oh my," she said at last. "For a virgin gay boy, you're a good fuck!"
Jeff couldn't speak. He just lay there, his massive muscles trembling. Finally...
"Does this mean?"
"That you're straight?" Gina asked while pulling up her fishnet stockings.
Jeff vaguely registered that she was already dressed and that her hair was not only no longer mussed, it looked like she'd just stepped out of a high-end hair salon.
He nodded in reply to her question.
"No, baby," she said, reassuringly. "Not in the least. You didn't get off on ME. You got off on ME getting off on YOU! That's not the same thing!"
Jeff heaved a sigh of relief.
"On the other hand," she said, as she stood and gave him another peck on the cheek. "If you ever want..."
"Something different?" he supplied.
She grinned and headed for the door.
"Ask Brad and Keith," she instructed.
They'll know where to find her!
END