Jake and I 3: Jake's Meet

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The day of Jake's powerlifting meet finally came. Jake had been training like an animal. Eating like one too. He weighed in as a 395lb superheavyweight. He outweighed the next heavyweight by 50lbs. The gymnasium was filled with big beefed up men, and the reek of them was completely intoxicating. Thickly muscled bulls, strutting around, packed into their lifting suits, sweating pure testosterone. And Jake stood out on the floor like the planet Jupiter, even among these men, he was so freaking huge. Like a mountain of pure power, waiting for his lifts.

This wasn't a sanctioned meet, so no world records could be set, but Jake got the place buzzing when he squated 1400lbs on his first lift. The other superheavies were stunned. By his second squat at 1500, his thighs had ballooned up full and tight, and the whole place was watching. He finished out with 1590, perfect form. He waddled away from the rack like a rhino.

He went last with the bench press. The guy before him hit a respectable 710. Jake had them add 200 more pounds. He lifted the 910, lowered it slow, pressed it up, and racked it like a warm-up. By his third round, he was going for 1250. More than three times his bodyweight. His chest was so engorged, I don't know how he got his arms up to the bar, but he did. The whole place went nuts when he got it, except for a few of the other superheavyweights, who looked a little sore about being blown out of the water by Jake's lifts.

The deadlift was Jake's favorite. He said it had always come easy to him, muscling the weight off the floor, up his shins, and locking it upright. By his third time, he'd almost matched his squat, lifting 1510. Guys were going wild, slapping Jake on the back, taking his pic with their cellphones. Adrenaline was pumping through the place like electricity, as people realized they were seeing something out of the norm, something they may not ever see again in a lifetime.

Jake was psyched up too, as these were the best lifts he'd ever had...more than he'd ever tried even in training.

"I'd just never felt so fucking strong," he said, as we walked out of the gym toward the car, him caring his four trophies, me carrying his gear. He had changed into baggy sweats and a polo shirt that barely held his bulk. In the cool outdoor air, steam rose off his buzzcut hair. We got into the car and I drove to the all-you-can-eat chinese buffet that Jake liked. Jake ate so much that I paid the unhappy-looking owner for four meals.

We got back into the car to head home. Jake's eyes were glazed over from his extreme caloric intake. His powergut protruded like a tortoise shell. He patted it like it was a good dog.

"You see the way I blew those other guys right out of the water?" he said.

"Oh yeah," I said.

"What chance did they have against arms like this?" he said, raising his huge left arm and flexing, the biceps pushing the polo sleeve back to his delt.

"None," I said. I could feel the heat of his arm, and was boning up fast. So was he. I reached over and put my hand on his sweats. He let out a deep groan as I found his swelling cock. He ground against my hand and I rubbed harder. Then he grabbed my hand and shoved it inside his sweats. His big heavy cock was already hard and thick as the end of an Olympic bar. He snorted, and I tried not to swerve off the road. He rubbed my hand up and down his pole. "Drive faster," he said. I headed for home as fast as I could.

I pulled in our driveway, and we both jumped out of the car. We headed toward the house so fast, we didn't even shut the car doors. As soon as we were in the kitchen, we started stripping down. "Watch this," Jake said, as he tensed his foot hard, and busted the leather shoestrings on his black shitkickers. Then he did the other foot, popping the shoestrings like floss. He kicked his boots off, and stripped off his sweats and his shirt. He picked me up under my pits and lifted me into the air. "So fucking strong," he said. "You feel the power, little buddy?"

"Ah man, Jake, hell yes," I said. I was dizzy from it. He pinned me up against the wall, and I put my hands on his beachball-sized delts, hard as granite.

"You ready for a ride?" he asked me.

"Hell yes," I groaned back.

"You sure you can handle it?" he asked, fingering my hole with this thick finger.

"Bring it," I said. He lubed himself with his pre, then rubbed his mushroom head back and forth inside my ass crack.

"Oh yeah, I can feel you twitching for it, babe," he said.

"Bring it, and bring it hard, you fucking ox," I said to him. He popped his cockhead inside me, and my muscles clamped down around him. We both grunted out loud.

"Such a sweet little fucking honeypot you got there, Scottie," he said, and shoved in another inch. I moved my hands up to his huge traps, mounded up like an ox yoke. I rubbed my hands across the finger-thick veins running along the muscle. When I didn't speak, he said, "You ok?" When I grunted out a yes, he shoved in another inch. "You feel my power in you, boy?" he said. "Yes," I answered, wallowing in his size and power. He put his hands around my waist and started working me up and down with his arms. Then he backed up away from the wall, and stood in the middle of the kitchen, fucking me standing, pumping me with his huge arms. I wrapped my legs around him, and locked my ankles behind him, resting them on the mounded muscle shelf of his squat butt. Then we kiss. We kiss slow and deep and hard, both of us breathing heavy through our flared nostrils, my hardon pressing against his powerlifter gut, oozing pre on his hairy abs. My lips chafe against his heavy stubble. I clamp down hard around his thick shaft.

"You hotlittlefuckin son of a bitch, boy," he growled between kissing, thrusting into me with abandon.

"Unload that powercum inside me, you big hairy ape," I said to him.

"Gonna cum so fucking hard."

"Me too Jake, can't hold back."

We both shot at the same time, me shooting a gusher all over his superheavyweight chest and abs, him inside me, deep inside, clear into my soul. He pinned me back up against the wall, pinning my arms over my head, then kissed me again. The sheer bulk of his 395lbs against me drained me of every drop.

"Let's take this into the bedroom," he said.

Jake carries me to the bedroom still inside me. We go for another three rounds, each time taking longer and longer. We finally collapse into the sweating, cummy sheets, and fall asleep.

I wake up out of a deep sleep and look at the clock. It's three AM. I think I hear something in the house, but I'm not sure. Did we forget to shut the back door when we came in? I hear it again. Jake's massive back is to me, and I shove him.

"You hear that?" I ask him, but I might as well ask a tranquilized elephant. Once he goes out, he is out. Especially after the day we'd had. Then I hear it again. I get up and head slowly into the hallway. As I head down the hall, I don't hear anything but my heart pounding. I sneak through the living room, and peak into the dining room, where I see a hulking figure rifling through the silver.

"Hey!" I yell out automatically, mostly out of fright. The guy makes for the doorway to the kitchen, but I jump on him as he does. We both go sprawling onto the kitchen floor, silverware clanging across the tile. We roll around on the floor. He gets on top of me for a moment, and I see him raise his right arm. I see a flash of metal in the moonlight coming through the window. He's got a knife, and its headed for my face, when suddenly something grabs his wrists and yanks it back up. I see him rise up into the air, and realize that Jake has grabbed him and is holding him like a ragdoll by his wrist. Jake presses his thumb into the guy's wrist and the knife falls to the floor.

"You just picked the wrong house, dirtbag," said Jake.

To be continued?