Begging a Bodybuilder - Part Three
Disclaimer: This story is a fantasy involving power imbalance expressed through consensual sexual activity between adult men. Humiliation and body worship are main elements of this story. Stop reading now if this content is offensive to you.
-----
Begging a Bodybuilder - Part Three
Matthew roughly pushed Patrick away with his foot. He turned and sat on the couch, legs spread wide. "Okay, you puny fag, on your knees between my feet and lick my thighs."
Patrick complied with instant obedience. This man was allowing him to do something he'd craved for so long. He was determined not to mess up. He arced his tongue in long swabs from the thick teardrop of the bodybuilder's lower quads all the way up to his briefs. His lips tickled along every striation, tracing out a path of sensual friction for his master.
"That's it. Lick me. Taste me. Such a good little slave." Matthew groaned as tension left his body. This submissive man was quickly becoming his favorite plaything, an object with expert talents at the sensual art of worship. His brain swam in a rising pool of pleasure. He grasped a large handful of hair on the back of Patrick's head and mashed his face against the hard flesh. Muffled moans escaped from Patrick's throat as he continued to wash the bodybuilder's legs for the next several minutes.
"What are you thinking about, little man? My power? How nice I am to let you worship my body? What I might make you do next? Are you frightened of me, you pathetic little queer? Answer me, boy."
Patrick looked up into the probing eyes of his superior. The stud appeared to be enjoying this immensely, sporting a pleased half-grin. His demeanor was calm and calculated. Patrick replied honestly: "I'm not thinking at all, but I am feeling intense gratitude."
Matthew contemplated the response for a moment, and nodded. He was pleased. He said, "Gratitude...I like that." His pleasant look passed and he commanded, "Now, climb up on my legs and play with my pecs."
Matthew interlocked his fingers behind his neck and thrust his large chest forward. He closed his eyes as he prepared for the sensual onslaught. His chest was very sensitive, especially when pumped up to its current proportions. Small hands gripped his massive pectoral muscles. His big slabs were squeezed and caressed, pressed and prodded, and manipulated with an urgency that betrayed Patrick's lust. The little palms heaved them upward, testing their weight. Patrick let them fall heavily, enjoying the way they shuddered. Patrick repeated the process over and over, timing his manipulations to accent the rise and fall of the aroused muscleman's deep breathing. The barest sheen of perspiration began to form on the skin of the heaving body.
For Matthew, the sexual thrill of being objectified as nothing more than a hulking mass of muscle for the lust of another man brought him ever closer to a complete state of sexual bliss. The squeezing and the light scraping of fingernails was beautifully erotic on his flesh. Patrick's fingers were clutching and groping the chest, kneading and satisfying.
Matthew smiled as he looked down at the smaller man's face. Patrick's intense concentration showed his determination to please his musclestud. The small frame and slender musculature underscored his vulnerability, which Matthew found erotic. Matthew could break him like a pencil. He reached down with both hands and effortlessly ripped Patrick's briefs from his skinny hips, throwing them to the floor. Patrick moaned into the flesh of Matthew's big body as the callused hands of the bodybuilder aggressively groped his nakedness.
Patrick had not yet attended to every detail of Matthew's wide, smooth chest: Matthew's big nipples were aching to be licked. His tits were blood-engorged pebbles, erect and begging for attention. Patrick leaned in and extended his tongue. Space barely separated tongue and nipple. Wickedly, Patrick paused, looked up doe-eyed into Matthew's face, and waited.
"You little shit! Lick me!" Matthew croaked desperately. Patrick flushed with pleasure, pleased with his small victory. He used his lips first, pulling tenderly at the sensitive nubs. Then, he lightly nipped them, sending shocks to the overloaded brain of the muscleman.
"Oh, you cunt! Keep that up. That's so fucking good!" Matthew's cock responded anew to the stimulation of his nipples. His briefs tented obscenely as his dick inflated to its full size. Matthew groaned and began to involuntarily gyrate his hips in a slow rhythmic motion, giving Patrick a sensual ride as his bare bum rested on the bodybuilder's upper thighs. The big man was on the verge of eruption. He abruptly pushed Patrick away from his chest, gripping the small body vice-like as he struggled to stave off his impending orgasm. Not yet.
Matthew instructed Patrick to return to the floor, his back against the couch. As Patrick sat there waiting, Matthew recovered, got up, and maneuvered his hot body over to the other side of the room in front of weight bench. "If you could watch me do one exercise, what would it be? I know you want to see me use this body you little queer. Presses? Curls? Shrugs?"
"Squats," challenged Patrick. "Deep ones."
Matthew was pleased. He liked fags paying attention to his big ass. Somehow it seemed the proper place for them to focus. He set the bar, added the weights, and obediently began a set of deep squats as Patrick had requested. He could feel Patrick's eyes burning into his meaty butt. His briefs hitched up into the deep crack of his ass, and he pounded out an explosive set of twelve reps, massive thighs straining with each rep. He returned the bar to the rack with a clattering of metal on metal. He turned around to face Patrick, chest heaving from the exertion.
"Add two plates and do another set of eight," Patrick spoke up. His voice surprised both of them. Emboldened by the big man's obedience to his first instructions, Patrick pressed him further: "And this time, do them naked."
Patrick's orders simply fed Matthew's inflated ego. These instructions confirmed the guy wanted to feast his eyes on every last inch. If this queer boy needed to see all his naked muscles flexing, how could he blame him? He was a fucking stud by any standards, and he knew it.
But Matthew would tease his little victim first. "You don't deserve...to see my cock," he panted. "You know better than...to ask for that, Patrick. I gave you a gift. I let you watch me squat, ...and now you're asking for more?" The bodybuilder folded his big arms across his heaving chest and smiled, waiting for Patrick to figure out what he needed to do. It didn't take long.
"Please, Matthew. I really need to see your cock. I want to worship it. I want to suck it and stroke it and kiss it and lick it. For as long as you tell me to. I promise I'll make you feel good! I promise to behave and do anything you say. Please, just use me for the pleasure of your cock. I want to be a slave to your enormous body. Please, I'm begging you!"
"That's a good start," Matthew said, "but I need more from you than that."
Patrick continued: "You goddamn fucking stud! You're an absolute god of muscle! I want to obey the power of your muscles, the power of your body, the power of your cock. Be my master. Control me with your fucking hot body. Your bulging muscles are so big, so beautiful..." Patrick fought desperately for words to heap praise onto this man, but his rant sounded so inadequate. He couldn't think what else to say. Words were insufficient. He wanted to use his tongue in other ways to demonstrate his devotion to this man.
"Describe your own body for me, Patrick."
Patrick was momentarily taken aback. He hesitated, then realized what Matthew wanted. Shame rose in his cheeks once again. Feeling debased for the pleasure of this man made him so hot, but to have to say it out loud - that was exceedingly humiliating. He struggled as he thought how to verbalize his own inadequacies.
"I'm - I'm skinny," Patrick started. Matthew stood large and imposing, still positioned by the squat rack, mammoth arms still folded across his chest. He was smiling. He looked so hot, so superior, so smug.
"Go on."
"I'm pathetic. My muscles are puny. I'm a fucking weakling. I'm...I'm a wimp compared to you."
Matthew nodded encouragingly. "And...?"
"And...I'm a puny, worthless, piece of crap that...that doesn't deserve to even look at you, to even...to even taste your shit or drink your piss!" Patrick's face flushed a deep red, and hot tears of frustration and desire rose to the brink of his lower eyelids. Where the fuck did those words come from? Patrick was thoroughly embarassed. Matthew was thoroughly pleased. Patrick felt a weight lift from his shoulders. He'd given all he had, and somehow the admission of his worthlessness made him feel a sense of freedom.
Patrick continued to plead: "I'm so queer for your body, Matthew. "Please make me behave, make me obey you and please you. Please, please, please, let me please you."
Matthew was finally satisfied. The puny bitch deserved something for his humiliation.
Matthew removed his red briefs, and his enormous prick sprang up, hard and throbbing. Patrick's eyes bugged out. Such a beautiful cock attached to such a beautiful body! Patrick's body ached with longing. He watched as Matthew turned away from him and prepared for his next set.
Matthew paused. "Like my ass?" he asked over his shoulder.
Patrick couldn't respond. He sat almost as though in a trance as his eyes devoured the naked muscularity of Matthew's entire body. Head to toe, the man was perfect as a statue, every muscle defined and hard.
Matthew's wide body pressed up and down. His back appeared three times the width of his narrow waist. His buttocks bulged obscenely on his narrow hips. His thighs flared outward dramatically to nearly the width of his waist, contrasted by the narrow joints of his knees. Matthew did eight reps as Patrick had asked. The reps served to pump up his ass muscles even more. They rode full and round on his impressive frame, jutting beautifully. He swaggered over to where Patrick was sitting on the floor. The muscleman's hips were rocking as his pumped legs paraded his massive frame across the room. He sauntered up to Patrick, turned around, and stood with his ass right in Patrick's face.
"I said, 'Like my ass?'" the bodybuilder repeated cockily. Patrick was in heaven. A freshly pumped bubble-butt, solid and gorgeous, was there for the worshipping. The massive globes of forbidden flesh waited, ready to be plucked and devoured.
"They're gorgeous, sir." Patrick leaned in, taking a deep sniff of the fine ass, noting the soapy clean scent mixed with the heady aroma of warm sweat. He waited for the invitation to indulge.
"Then eat, you faggot."
Easier said than done. More full and rounded glutes Patrick had never seen. The turgid, pale globes pressed firmly together, denying Patrick's first attempts to part them. He changed his grip for better purchase and again tried to separate them, wanting to see deep into the crack of this musclegod's most intimate place.
"Fuck you're slow!" roared Matthew. "Let me help you out." With that he bent slightly at the waist and backed up, forcing Patrick's head back against the arm of the couch. His butt pressed, mushing Patrick's face squarely into his butt crack. Patrick felt surrounded by flesh. He had the image of his whole head being swallowed up by the brawny butt flesh, happily drowning in a sea of ass.
"Mmmph! Pffmm!" Patrick's muffled voice sounded surprised with only a touch of panic. Matthew was so turned on. He was going to use this puny guy's talents to the max.
"I said eat!" The first swabs of Patrick's tongue on his asshole sent shivers throughout his beefy body. The licking turned to probing, and finally sucking. "Yeah, suck on my asshole, you... you asshole!" At Matthew's words, the ridiculous cliche 'You are what you eat' flashed through Patrick's mind. If he'd been in any position to laugh, he would've done so.
Matthew's rant continued: "That's it. Oh, god! That's sooo good! Eat my ass. Worship me, you goddamn faggot." The words were an aphrodisiac to Patrick's brain. He loved the crudeness and redoubled his efforts to please the man.
The bodybuilder watched himself in the mirror, Patrick's tiny form furiously feeding at his ass. The sensations were incredible. Waves of stimulation coursed through his body. He raised his big arms and posed. This time the muscular display was just for himself. Rounded and full and sexy, his muscled body was the proper place for this faggot's worship. Geez, I'm so fucking hot!
Munching and slurping, Patrick grasped the bodybuilder's hips for purchase as he pulled the man back even harder onto his smothered face. This is what Patrick deserved. He had been a good boy pleasing his master and deserved this reward. At the same time, his puny body and complete inferiority to the man he worshipped compelled him to assist in his own humiliation, to service the most disgusting place of a man: his shithole. Indeed, this is what Patrick deserved.
A little downward pressure from Matthew's hips sent Patrick slipping down all the way to the floor. He lay there on his back, looking up at the huge creamy ass hovering over him. "I need to keep sucking your asshole, sir. Please let me suck you more! Your bodybuilder asshole. I've fantasized about your ass for months. Please don't deny me the honor of sucking it."
Matthew gave in to the pleading, squatting his butt down onto the face of his worshipper. Patrick lapped happily. Matthew occasionally lowered his butt to cut off Patrick's air for awhile. He enjoyed the gasping of the little man as he released him from the smothering. He was controlling the very life of this pathetic wimp.
It came time for Matthew to attend to the needs of his cock. The foreplay had made his erection painfully large. His cock was throbbing excitedly, ready to explode at the least stimulation. He turned and collected Patrick from the floor, hoisting him playfully into the air above his head, and pumping the man up and down in a series of shoulder presses. "You dumbbell," snorted Matthew, pleased at his little pun, "I'm going to fuck you."
Matthew carried Patrick into the bedroom. The double bed seemed almost too small for Matthew alone, let alone both of them. "I like your little body. It makes me feel incredibly huge," Matthew admitted. He knew Patrick's little asshole would be tight. He thought of invading the helpless man, of making him simply an appendage to his own enormous mass, and his cock leaped.
He placed Patrick face down on the bed and squeezed both ass cheeks in a single hand. Patrick wiggled his butt seductively. "Please, sir. Please fuck me." More begging, without even being told! Matthew was pleased. The boy was naturally submissive to muscle. Retrieving some lube, Matthew slathered it liberally on his cock until it glistened. His balls tightened at the stimulation, ready to eject their contents. Matthew managed to hold off.
Patrick pleaded: "Fuck my ass. I need to feel your cock in me. Please fuck me good. Please split me open. I want to give you pleasure, sir."
Matthew mounted the quivering body, covering the insignificant size completely. He used his massive arms to prevent himself from completely crushing Patrick, but even so, the smaller man struggled for air at the weight of Matthew's overdeveloped build.
The first pressure on his ass was intense. "Oh god. So huge! I don't know..."
"Shut up," Matthew commanded. "Just take it." Matthew's cock ached, and he submitted to its demands for stimulation. "Okay, you fucking pervert, get ready for a real fuck." Matthew loved talking dirty, and no more so than when in the throes of ecstasy.
"You little useless shit. You deserve a good fucking, don't you? Coming up here to my apartment and turning me on with your pathetic worship. Your begging, your pleading. You've got me so fucking hot I can't hold back. If this fuck hurts, it's your own fucking fault. You think you can worship me and not suffer for the privilege? You'll be begging for me to stop before this is through, I tell you."
Patrick craved the thought of Matt's big cock up his ass, and he resolved right then not to complain no matter how much it hurt. That was part of his worship, the acceptance of whatever punishment the god decided to bestow on his pathetic little life. He expertly relaxed his ass, allowing the huge invader to enter. He was stretched to the limit; the cock was powerfully huge.
"Oh! Oh!" Patrick involuntarily uttered. "Hurt me. Make me feel it. Use me. Dump your cum in my ass you big stupid fucker!"
Matthew's hips rocked in a steady rhythmn, his butt clenched, his breathing accelerated. The motion of Matthew's hips was accompanied by a "Please! please! please!" with every thrust. The little guy was still begging for his body! He seductively whispered in Patrick's ear: "I AM enormous! I AM a musclegod. Beg me. Need me. Worship me, you freak."
"I'm going to fill you up," he finally panted. "Get ready for my cum!" Patrick felt completely helpless, completely used, and completely satisfied. He was fulfilling this man's need to get off, and he was the receptacle. At this moment, he was the most important object in this musclestud's life. His ass was the purpose of the big man's existence.
The rhythmic friction of Matthew's cock slicing in and out of the tight ass under him caused his nuts to contract. The squeezing of his penis with each thrust into the tight, smooth, deliciously hot shitter was sending tingling sensations to the most primitive parts of his brain. He felt like an animal.
That familiar feeling of constriction at the base of his balls increased to a horrible state of tension. He stopped his rocking and the onslaught onto the ass below him. His whole body went rigid, the naked muscles frozen in place. For several seconds Matthew's flexed body was immobilized by the impending eruption, every bulging muscle tight with anticipation. The room was silent and still. Everything seemed suspended.
The fluid in Matthew's balls gathered with incredible force. He was conscious of nothing but the sense of being huge, of conquering a worthy subject, of forcing his seed upon another. "Ah, ah, ah..." escaped from his throat. Finally, Matthew threw his head back and roared, "Take it, you cunt!" Semen exploded into Patrick's ass, a long, steady hot stream followed by shot after shot after shot. The filling of Patrick's ass was the final act of domination. The bodybuilder had exerted his power completely. He had conquered.
Patrick's body was shoved ruthlessly toward the headboard as Matthew finished off his orgasm, his hips pummeling the man with a few last forceful thrusts into the limp form. Finally satisfied, and completely drained, Matthew rolled off and laughed with involuntary release. "Such a tight hole, aren't you? That was the ultimate fuck."
A while later, Matthew, still buzzed from the sex, offered, "Okay. We both know you don't deserve shit," he grinned and winked, "but how do you want to get off?"
Patrick was ready. "Tease me. Make me beg. I want you to put on your tight jean shorts, and flex and pose for me while I jerk myself off. I want to watch you feel up your own beautiful body."
"But how do you know I've got jean..." Matthew hesitated. "Oh yes," he said, "you're my little stalker. Maybe you'd like some more pictures for that collection of yours?"
Matthew loved having his picture taken. He was totally into the idea of posing for his new little submissive friend and his camera. He had found at last someone compatible to satisfy his most primitive instincts to perform, dominate, humiliate, and demand worship. But of course, Matthew wasn't quite ready to give little Patrick the chance for some pictures. He sensed he could get even more from this submissive little man. He would make Patrick work for the privilege of worship, for the privilege of some photos. He'd push Patrick to the very edge, wringing out every shred of obedience the little man could give.
Matthew's grin transformed into a cruel smirk, a wicked glint in his eye. "Unfortunately, you'll have to wait for another time, Patrick. I'm finished with you for tonight. It's time for you to go home." No amount of begging would help Patrick this time.
As Patrick dressed, he knew he was defeated. Matthew called the shots. If he ever hoped to please Matthew again, he'd better obey. But deep down, there was something delicious about being denied his orgasm. Somehow it was simply another act of worship.
END OF PART THREE
This was originally planned as the final part. Some readers have sent notes of encouragement, so I've decided to write a few more chapters. Thanks for the appreciative comments!
tpcteacher@yahoo.com