Power Couple: Escapade

A continuation of The Power Couple series.

Burke Dorsett was a big man, that’s all there was to it.

At 6 feet tall and 350 lbs. of solid muscle, he was a highly successful, highly competitive powerlifter but he was built like a bodybuilder – his tremendously broad shoulders, hulking traps, massive chest, and giant arms were connected to powerhouse, tree trunk legs by a relatively narrow albeit incredibly strong midsection.

He went head to head with the likes of Ryan Kennelly, Derek Poundstone, and Kevin Nee on a regular basis, winning more often than he lost, and enjoying the camaraderie of a whole crew of meatheads back in Atlanta.

Medium-brown skin, short-cropped wavy black hair (the legacy of a Cherokee great-grandmother), and jet black eyes. Yep, he was one studly man, with the courtly diction of a man whose father was a university professor and his mother a federal judge.

So why am I sitting in a dark corner of the seediest gay bar in Columbus, Ohio? He wondered for the thousandth time.

To which he added.

“Well, duh…”

He was a massively built 30-year-old African American man.

A gay, African American man.

People took one look at him and thought, “Thug!”

Until he opened his mouth, then they thought, “Colin Powell!”

As for his parents, the “Talented Tenth” had never gone away, as far as they were concerned, and the fact that he had no more than a bachelor’s degree – from a state school, no less – was just not cutting it. Coming out to them just wasn’t going to happen.

Wasn’t like they were bigots – they were members of a well-to-do, racially integrated social justice Presbyterian church – but from birth they’d been taught “you have to be better than the rest” and they’d automatically passed that lesson along to Burke, along with the unconscious message that “gay” was NOT better.

Finishing his beer, Burke stood from his stool, turned on his heel to head for the gents…and ran slap into a brick wall!

“Where the hell did that come from?” he muttered, stars in his eyes and swaying slightly. He must have had one or two more beers than he remembered!

“Whoa, buddy,” the wall said, grabbing Burke by the elbows and setting him back down on his stool.

And how the fuck did that happen? Burke wondered. It was like he had floated back to his stool, which could only happen if…

“You OK, fella?” the wall asked.

Burke’s vision cleared and he looked up…and up…and up!

The wall was a man!

A really fucking ginormously huge man!


The huge man motioned the bartender over and asked for a bottle of water. He handed to Burke, who noticed that the 16-ounce bottle was completely swallowed up by the giant’s hand!

“Sorry to run into you like that,” the huge man said. “Although, when you get down to it…”

Having chugged the water, Burke felt himself returning to some semblance of sanity.

“Hey, I’m the one who ran into you,” Burke said. “My apologies, kind sir. I was just completely taken aback to find a new wall had grown out of the floor while I was sitting here!”

The giant paw engulfed Burke’s own monster mitt.

“No harm done,” the man said. “Roger Fenton’s the name!”

Burke’s eyes flew wide. He finally began to take in what he was seeing.

The man was a good 5-6 inches taller than Burke with a face that was middle-aged but handsome, with a thick shock salt-n-pepper hair, matching goatee, piercing dark blue eyes, and dimples.

And the biggest body Burke had ever seen in person.


At 6 feet and 350 lbs., Burke was inordinately proud of his 70 inch chest and shoulders than measured 3 ½ feet from one end to the other.

But Fenton’s enormous chest was wider than Burke’s shoulders and his shoulders had to be as wide as Burke was tall.

And that chest.

Oh My God.

Like two enormous wheelbarrows attached to a torso, each of them 30 inches across and mounding a dozen inches over a narrow midsection that looked as though it were assembled from compacted bull-dozers.

All of it cover in dense black hair, the kind you could lose your hands in, shot through with silver, the hair pattern on each pec swirling in such a way that the eyes were inevitably drawn, as if magnetized, to a pair of thumb-sized nips that looked like they enjoyed being nibbled by sharks.

The Himalayan traps of the insane shoulders tapered to mind-blowing deltoids that looked like they were the size of three basketballs squashed together, then down to arms that…

“Nnnnggghhhh,” Burke grunted.

The big man sighed, although it was a self-satisfied sort of sigh.

“I’m afraid I have that effect on some people,” he said.

Burke blushed furiously, then stammered.

“Ya, you, you’re that guy!”

THE Roger Fenton, in other words, the World’s Biggest Man, the former NFL star who with his fellow retired NFL star gay hubby Bruce Carter ran the “Triathlon of Strength” contest on Maui.

“Well, yes, like I said, I’m Roger Fenton,” he said, chuckling. “But I don’t think we’ve had the pleasure…?”

Burke regained control of his breathing, then stuck his hand out a second time.

“Burke Dorsett,” he said. “It’s an honor to meet you, Mr. Fenton!”

Fenton cocked his head to the side, then looked Burke up and down.

“Well, of course you are!” he said, not hiding the delight in his voice. “I would have recognized you immediately if they didn’t have this place lighted like a cave. So glad to finally meet you!”

Burke’s jaw dropped open.

“You know ME?!”

Fenton tsk-tsk’d.

“Well, of course! You’re one of the leaders in our sport, young man! I’m just disappointed you’ve never made it to Kula!”

Burke blushed again.

Most people had gotten the fact that the world’s premier strongman-bodybuilding-powerlifting contest was held at a gay resort on Maui but most people did not have parents named Avery Burke Dorsett III and Alma Priscilla Hedges Dorsett. No way HE was ever going to show up on cable TV in Kula!

“At any rate, I seem to have upset your evening, Burke, and I do apologize for that. I hope you’ll let me make it up to you by treating you to a very late supper? If you’re anything like my Bruce, you’re probably ready to eat a horse!”

Which is how Burke found himself in the back of Fenton’s stretch Hummer, headed back to Burke’s hotel so he could, uh, “clean up a bit” before going out.

“Having a driver is a pain in the ass,” Fenton said. “But I outgrew the driver’s seat a long time ago.”

The chauffeur snorted.

“That’s enough out of you, Felipe!” Fenton barked, which just got a guffaw.

Burke raised an eyebrow.

“Felipe works for me, as does his husband, George, our pilot. They’re both gorilla wannabes but fortunately they still fit behind the wheel or, in George’s case, the stick.”

Burke was surprised when they got to the hotel that Fenton exited the car and Felipe drove off.

He was surprised again when he found himself crammed into the elevator with Fenton.

Burke’s nose was just inches from the 10-inch deep crevasse between Fenton’s monstrous pecs.

And then they were at Burke’s door.

“Is that a python in your pocket or would you like to invite me in for a night cap?” Fenton asked.

Burke’s eyes went wide.

“I already ordered room service. They’ll be up in an hour,” Fenton pointed out.

Burke shoved the door closed and then he was on Fenton like flies on honey.

The big man gasped as Burke’s mouth found his meaty nipple. Slipping off his leather vest, Fenton ripped Burke’s shirt and pants with two swipes of his enormous hands. They fell like scraps of tissue paper.

Burke tugged desperately at the big man’s belt but with his own huge mitt Fenton pulled Burke’s hands away and put them on his right bicep, the one that was exploding in front of Burke’s face like a mushroom cloud over the Nevada desert.

“Lick it, son,” Fenton said. “You know you want to.”

Burke went nuts, scarcely noticing that Fenton somehow deftly managed to remove the rest of Burke’s clothes and his own, then…


With one hand, Fenton inverted Burke so that young man’s mouth was directly in front of his raging 15-inch erection.


Burke’s on 13-inch monster cock was swallowed up by Fenton’s hot mouth as if it were no more than a popsicle, one he proceeded to suck on vigorously.

Burke felt his eyes beginning to roll back in his head but he took the first third of Fenton’s gigantic boner into his mouth and began sucking for all his worth.

Time went away, sensation took over.

Burke lost track of the number of orgasms, the number of positions, the infinite varieties of suck and fuck and lick and stroke.

At one point he found himself riding Fenton’s ass, the big man’s enormous steel-hard butt cheeks having contorted in such a way that he was able to ram all 13-inches into Fenton’s love hole.

Burke awoke with a start.

Fenton, naked, his shoulders as wide as the Rocky Mountains, was perched on a flimsy hotel chair, chowing down on eggs and potatoes and bacon and sausage and waffles and a couple of steaks and a salmon filet.

“You passed out,” Fenton said, “so I put you in the bed. Sorry I started without you!"

Burke stood naked next to the huge man, once again fully erect although he didn’t see how he could be…

“Did all that really happen or did I dream it?”

Fenton wrapped his giant paw around Burke’s quivering copy and squeezed gently.

“It happened,” he said, then pointed at the other chair. “Sit, eat. And then we’ll think about Round 2.”

Burke sat and picked up a fork.

Suddenly he was completely ravenous.