The Captain and his Privates • Chapter 6 by Sean Reid Scott
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THE HOMO-DISCLAIMER:
The characters in this story are played by professional, fictional actors, and are not intended to represent, mirror, or allude to any real people.
Any similarities with actual people are unintentional, inadvisable, inadmissible, and unbelievable. This story contains vivid descriptions of homosexual encounters. This story includes SEX ACTS BETWEEN MEN, and is thus intended for ADULTS ONLY. There's lurid, kinky sex here. HOMO SEX. It's prolly straight out of HELL, if you're inclined to hold the religious perspective. Really, this story is not for those who button the collar tightly. If you can't stomach this kind of smut, skedaddle. Likewise if you're under 18.
CAPTAIN McALLISTER STOOD at attention in front of Colonel Roger Bradley's large desk. "Reporting as ordered, sir," he said as he saluted.
The Base Commander, Colonel Bradley was a big man. Hardened by years of service to his country, he was now well into his forties. Yet he still possessed the body of a powerful, muscled man. His was an imposing, powerful physique; you didn't mess with Colonel Bradley. But sitting at his desk, looking up at Capt. David McAllister, even Colonel Bradley felt... small.
McAllister's physique was incomparable, and everyone knew he was the best-built, and strongest, man around. Jaw-dropping muscles bulged under his uniform. Strength and power just emanated from the man--and not an ounce of fat either. At six and a half feet tall, and weighing... well no one really knew what he weighed, but most people had him close to the 300 pound mark. Anyway, his body was staggeringly developed. No one even came close. Whether fully clothed--either in camos or decked out in his army greens--or if he just wore his favorite wife-beater and shorts--his muscular build was dizzying. And boner-inducing.
"At ease, captain," Colonel Bradley said, still seated at his desk. McAllister spread his legs slightly and placed his hands at his tailbone. Even at ease, his massive chest protruded out from his torso; it seemed to hover over the colonel's desk. The superior officer had to force himself not to gawk at the unbelievable development of the young captain. He cleared his throat. "Captain, it's come to my attention that you have not registered for the IMSSPC--the Mr. Military Muscle competition."
"That's correct, sir," McAllister responded.
"Care to tell me why?"
"Well sir, I have other priorities." "Other priorities? What priorities?"
"Training my men, sir. I've always put the training and instruction of my men first. I believe it's the most important duty I have."
"I understand, Captain," the colonel said. "and that's very commendable. But you also have a duty to this base... to showcase the ideals of our Company, our Brigade and Division, and hell... even more broadly, to exhibit the values and dedication to excellence that our Branch represents. The US Army is the best military branch in the world, Captain, and we need men like you--not that there are any other men like you--to step up and represent." Colonel Bradley's eyes raked up and down the physique that stood on the other side of his desk.
"I understand, sir."
"I don't think you do, son," Bradley said. McAllister, in a quirky kind of way, liked it when the colonel called him son. It wasn't often someone could refer to him in a subordinate way--unless it regarded rank and chain of command. Given his staggering proportions, no one ever referred to David that way. Truth be told, Bradley was the only ranking officer who dared use the endearment. David McAllister suspected the colonel had... feelings. "If you truly understood, you'd know how important this competition is--to the Army. To me."
"Sir?"
The colonel sighed. "Have a seat, Captain."
McAllister sat in a chair opposite the colonel.
"David, the Mr. Military Muscle competition is more than a simple, friendly little inter-branch competition--and it's more than simply a chance to show off who we are to the other branches. It's a matter of pride--of deep-seated honor and dignity... the dignity of thousands of your fellow soldiers." Bradley leaned back in his desk chair and it creaked as its base bent, allowing him to tip backwards. "I'll be honest with you, David. The Army has only won the Mr. Military Muscle once. Once! Those bastard Marines have dominated the contest for decades. It's humiliating!"
"The other branches... Air Force, Navy... the Leapfrogs? ...the Coasties? Don't they send qualified contestants?"
Bradley guffawed. His laugh was genuine, and frustrated. "Air Force? Really? I don't think the Air Force even has a set of weights! Those guys barely work out! Same for the water-boys. Except for the SEALS, the Navy guys are wimps.
McAllister nodded slightly while a corner of his lips lifted.
"My point is this, McAllister: I'm sick and tired of Marine Colonel Nelson strutting around after every contest, gloating at how powerful and well-built his men are. Sick of it, I tell you!"
"I see."
"Captain, you are the Army's only hope." Bradley leaned forward, putting his thick forearms on his desk. "David, I want you to compete. For Fort Braggard. For the Army. There's no man who can hold a candle to you. Not in the Marines. Hell, not in any branch." He studied David's seated, bulging upper body. "Fuck, I doubt that a man exists--even outside the military... in the bodybuilding or the power-lifting communities... who could throw any kind of shade on you!"
"Thank you, sir," McAllister said politely.
"So... I don't want to have to order you to do this, Captain. And in fact, I won't order you to do this. But I would really love for you to volunteer. It would mean a lot to me."
"To shut down Colonel Nelson?" David said with a crooked smile and a raised eyebrow.
Bradley grinned. "Damn right, Captain. That--and just the fact that the Army needs to prevail in this. With all the budget cutbacks the Pentagon has had to implement, morale everywhere is low--especially in the Army. That damn Space Force is sucking money out of all the branches--but the Army is feeling it the most. The men need something--someone--they can rally around. That someone is you, McAllister. I know it is."
"I see, sir," David said. He inhaled a deep breath and looked off, contemplating. Then he met the colonel's eyes: "I appreciate your passion, sir. And I would love to accommodate your request. It's just that... well..."
"Name it, Captain. Whatever you need, you'll get. More gym equipment? More staff to help oversee and train your Company? You got it. Time to hone and prepare? Of course."
David smirked slightly. He looked briefly at the enormous arms enclosed in his uniform's short-sleeved shirt--first one, then the other--and said, "You think I need more gym equipment?" Then he rolled his pectorals under his shirt in a slow, powerful wave, nearly popping off the buttons.
Col. Bradley cursed under his breath at the sight, "God almighty."
"I don't think I need to hone and prepare anything, sir," David smiled. "Besides, the competition is only two weeks away."
David's bewildering muscles were beyond incredible--even covered. "Well... ahem... what is it that makes you hesitate, Captain?"
"Well, sir..." the captain paused, pondering. "I just don't know...." He pursed his lips, thinking.
Colonel Bradley stood.
The captain then stood as well, standing at attention.
"At ease, Captain," Bradley said. He rounded his desk and stood next to the towering officer. He lowered his voice. "David, I know you're a humble man. I realize you don't strut around the base showing off this phenomenal physique of yours..." He took a moment to move his eyes up and down David's body, obviously inventorying all his big muscles. "I get it." Bradley put one hand on the captain's thick, round, shoulder. He squeezed the unyielding deltoid. He stopped talking for a moment, and, somewhat surprisingly to David, the colonel moved his hand downward and onto the shelf-like mass of one of the captain's pectorals.
With his hand moving over the shirt fabric, Bradley assessed the hardness and sheer size of David's pectoral. His fingers and palms moved lower, feeling the entire pec. It was hard. It was warm. It was unbelievable.
David seemed to see something in the colonel's eyes that the man had never overtly shown before. There was awe, of course. But there was something more. Desire. Yet even knowing he was showing that, Bradley couldn't stop it.
No one--not even top senior officers--ever dared to cop a feel like what the colonel was doing. It was forward, raw, and bold. The colonel's hand moved over and across the giant pec, toward the center cleavage. His fingers reached the buttons of the captain's shirt, and he left his hand there, lost in the mass and definition of David's enormous muscles. "Just spectacular, David. Just motherfucking spectacular."
The captain stared straight ahead. "Thank you, sir."
"Would you permit me?" Colonel Bradley asked. He didn't wait for an answer; he unbuttoned the top button of the captain's uniform.
"Of course, sir," David said.
Bradley's hand trembled while he unbuttoned the next, and the next. "I appreciate how dedicated you are to maintaining your physique, son," he said as he worked. "And the fact that you don't flaunt your build, or..." he was definitely distracted as he talked.
David stood absolutely still; he did nothing to inhibit the colonel's actions.
"...or, use your size to unnecessarily intimidate others... or, show off, or...." By now, Col. Bradley had unbuttoned most of the shirt. He pressed both of his hands onto David's massive chest, pushing the shirt apart. The sheer size of the gorgeously hairy chest forced the opening wide.
The captain inhaled a generous breath, expanding his chest--which of course only added to expanding the fabric's opening. Apparently, McAllister wasn't opposed to showing off his chest to the pawing colonel.
Bradley's hand moved from the last, lowest button, upwards. He felt each mound of the captain's insanely-defined and bulging abdominal muscles; his fingers traipsed over each one, until he got to the protruding overhang of the mighty chest. He slipped his hand to the outer edge of David's incomparable chest and cupped the magnificent pec. He inhaled a quick breath and held it; his hand froze with his fingers extended. He slowly moved his palm back, just a bit, so it rested on the center of one of David's pectorals, frozen. It was beyond anything he had ever imagined possible. The captain's chest was covered with just the right amount of black hair; it was very, very warm. It was hard and ungiving, yet at the same time, supple and... somehow... velvety. The hard muscle pushed back when he tightened his hand on it.
McAllister remained erect and motionless, staring straight ahead.
The colonel continued his examination of David's pecs by lifting his other hand to the planet-sized muscles. He reverently moved his hands around, over, back and forth. "Oh my... my... god," he mumbled. His hands continued to tremble, moving reverently over the unbelievable plateau that was David's chest.
It had been the colonel's intention to genuinely assess and evaluate--if not encourage the captain regarding his mind-boggling development--but now, for the first time in his life, Roger Bradley was experiencing desire as he'd never experienced it before. He'd always been a ladies man. (Well, when Captain McAllister arrived on his base, he'd definitely had a tinge of something new, but his interest--or shall we be honest, his fascination--in the captain's physique was easily dismissed as admiration and awe. Who wouldn't feel amazement when they looked at David? That's exactly what the colonel told himself. Even when the occasional erection formed in his uniform pants, he explained it away as merely fascination and normal intrigue, and possible envy. And that one time--okay, two--when he'd slipped back into his office's private bathroom to jerk off after a visit from the captain? He'd honestly thought about women, then, right? Surely he had. Maybe the fantasy women were involved, somehow, in sexual escapades with the captain, but the fantasies definitely involved women. Right? He was sure they did. Yes. Of course they did.) But now. Now, while he felt out the incredible, hairy, warm-warm, hard-yet-almost-pliable muscle of David's chest, Bradley found a boner sprouting in his own pants. Not to worry; this wasn't some kind of queer reaction to a muscle man. It was simply amazement... salted with a generous sprinkling of envy. Right? Men react to things in this way all the time. Right?
Despite his efforts to rein in his thoughts--and characterize them in an acceptable manner, as the colonel felt out more and more of the captain's gorgeous chest, he found involuntary, unintelligible sounds coming from his mouth--his throat. He was unintentionally reacting to David's overwhelmingly powerful, sexual, masculinity with groans and moans. And by the time he realized he'd been doing it, the captain was giving a knowing smile, albeit a subdued one.
Embarrassed, the colonel quickly withdrew his hand from inside David's shirt. He coughed and cleared his throat.
"It's okay, colonel," David reassured. "I really don't mind."
Bradley straightened his uniform and cleared his throat again. "Well, I simply wanted to show you... er... to demonstrate exactly how masculi... I mean, how dominant you'd be in any competition. You know."
"I understand, sir," David said. "But in all honesty, sir, I don't mind." With that, David pulled his shirt wide open and lifted it off his enormous shoulders. The fabric fought against his gigantic upper arms, but he pulled and pulled, and soon the shirt lay on the floor at his feet.
The colonel was transfixed. He'd never actually seen McAllister shirtless. That chest was the most wondrous expression of masculine power ever. And the eight-pack that supported it was beyond astounding. Twin columns of insanely-defined muscle mounds that led the eye lower--thanks also to the dizzying effect of the diagonally pointing intercostals and obliques. It was truly nuts. And those arms! Goddamn, Captain McAllister had to have the biggest, most muscularly-defined arms in bodybuilding! Hanging from those broad, thick shoulders, David's arms were knee-weakening.
Bradley fought to maintain his composure. Now, his boner shamelessly reared its growing head in his pants, threatening to burst at any minute, and most certainly leaking copious amounts of pre-cum in his underwear. Then, as if compelled by some unknown, irresistible force, the colonel found his hand moving back up, onto that chest. That chest! "Oh my god," he said again as his hand moved over the tectonic plates of muscle. "David, you shouldn't keep this to yourself. You deserved to be on display. Holy Christ!" Once again, his fingers and palms brazenly moved back and forth over both pectorals, exploring the grand canyon between them, as well as the magnificent outer edges, and of course... those perfect, large nipples. At this point, as he withdrew from a momentary pause at one of those nipples, Bradley noticed a brand new sensation. Between his still-uncontrollable moans of astonishment--and let's admit it, lust--he could actually hear the sounds of his hands moving over the hair of David's chest. It was totally audible. It sounded almost gravelly, or... maybe like whiskers being rubbed. Or a car's tires slowly and gently moving over fine gravel. It was intoxicating.
Captain McAllister stood tall and still; for the most part he looked straight ahead while his CO felt him out, copping feel after continuous feel of his masculine, magnificent chest, arms, shoulders and abs. He knew the effect he had on men. He got that a lot.
Occasionally he glanced down at Bradley. At just over six feet tall, the colonel was an easy half-foot shorter than the captain. Ever the master disciplinarian, he resisted the temptation to smile at Bradley's hooded eyes, the whimpers, and the muted expletives the colonel couldn't help but give out.
The next time Bradley's worshipping hands made their way across David's chest, the hyper-muscular captain rolled his pecs for the colonel. It elicited a moan from the CO.
If the colonel wanted David to compete in the IMSSPC--and truth be told, the colonel suspected David was a yes from the moment Bradley had mentioned it--the colonel would need to demonstrate exactly why the Army's star physique was such a shoe-in for first place. It was always a game with David. Bradley knew. He knew McAllister enjoyed taunting and tantalizing the men who stood in awe of his physique. To play. To tease. To demonstrate. To prove.
"Oh... my... fucking god," Bradley mumbled. "I can't believe what I'm feel...."
David concealed a smirk, but Bradley saw it.
Colonel Bradley extricated his hand from the captain's chest, clearing his throat once again. "I'm... it's just so huge... so very im... impressive, captain."
"Thank you, sir," David said politely. To keep things moving along, he said, "So, do you really think I have a chance?" He gave a coy smile and rolled his pecs slowly some more.
Bradley laughed out loud, relieved at the break in tension. "Well, yes, captain. I believe you do."
David smiled.
"So, what do you need to give me a yes, David? More convincing?"
"Hmmm... well, perhaps."
Bradley laughed nervously. He stepped back and rested his butt on the edge of his desk, gazing up at the towering muscle man. "What is it that would convince you, captain?"
David leaned forward slightly so he could see past the prodigious overhang of his chest. Then, brazenly--but without any hesitation--he began to unzip his uniform's pants. As he slowly did that, he said, without looking at the colonel, "Sir, I wonder if you might be able to lock the door so we won't be interrupted while you inspect me more."
Bradley swallowed. Hard. In fact, he nearly swallowed his tongue. But without pausing to think about what he was doing, he obeyed his subordinate officer's order. And it felt so good. Exhilarated, and nearly delirious, he strode to the door of his office and locked it. Damn that it only had one lock. He really needed to look into a deadbolt as well.
When he turned from the door and walked back, David's dizzyingly-wide back nearly filled his field of vision. Yet it tapered down to that minuscule waist of his with such beauty. And that ass! David hadn't yet pushed down his pants, so his trousers hugged a set of glutes so round, so hard-looking, so taut and beautiful... it was staggering how muscular and sensually gorgeous this man was.
When Bradley rounded the captain to stand in front of him again, David had already completely opened his pants. Even still covered by his skivvies, the size of David's organ was staggeringly obvious. The colonel blinked at seeing how the thing fought to be released from its confines. All of this physical contact between the two men had had its effect on the muscular captain. David was getting hard.
"I know the Mr. Military Muscle competition has always been a stiff competition, sir," David said as he relaxed and stood still--his covered genitals overflowing from the opening in his pants.
The colonel said, "Well, yes," with a slight furrowing of the brow. Then he added, "What are your, um... thoughts, captain?"
"Permission to be totally honest, sir?"
The colonel swallowed hard again. "Yes. Granted. Of course, s--" he stopped himself from addressing his subordinate as sir.
"Well, as you know, sir, I never approach a task half-heartedly. And I wouldn't want to approach this contest with anything less than my all."
"Yes, of course."
"And in my mind," David continued with utmost seriousness, "I would really enjoy winning... so long as you are genuinely convinced, and back me completely."
"Yes, of course. Of course I will. Of course I do. What can I do to convince you?"
Without turning his head, David moved his eyes to the side and met the colonel's eyes. "I believe I would need a comprehensive evaluation, sir."
"Yes. Of course. Indeed. What kind of... I mean... how would that..."
The normally in-control and powerful colonel was falling all over himself in the presence of this muscle god.
"What would that look like, Captain?"
David gave a soft smile. "Well, sir, as you know, the Mr. Military Muscle competition includes three different competition aspects." Indeed, the contest was much more than a mere bodybuilding show. Since it was military-based, and all of the US military branches took part, the competition had been designed to showcase three levels of a man's masculinity: Physique, Strength, and Sexual Prowess.
Over the years, the Sexual Prowess aspect had been derided and mocked as outrageous and obscene. But what with so many nations starting to reject the Geneva Convention prohibitions of cruel and outrageous torture, the importance of a soldier's sexual control and proficiency had become more imperative. Thus, the demands that Sexual Prowess be removed from the competition had been basically silenced. Everyone knew that a soldier had to possess not only superior physical and mental strength, but also the personal fortitude and self-discipline to control his desires. In an effort to get any and all kinds of information out of their prisoners, foreign countries had upped the level of captive torture to include all manner of sexual taunting and torment. Too many state secrets had been given up in recent years when captured soldiers were sexually coerced. The true mark of a supremely-strong soldier meant that he was able to control himself in every way imaginable--especially sexually.
Thus, the Mr. Military Muscle competition continued to include the sexual component.
Of course, this didn't quiet all of the nay-sayers. Many strait-laced opponents of the sex competition belittled it as lewd and debauched. Yet, as Rear Admiral Jedediah Flippenhoffer famously said (and was now quoted in the Armed Forces Manual): "No man is stronger than his ability to curb his sexual drive. Although the way to a man's heart is through his stomach, it is becoming increasingly obvious that the way to a man's brain--and the state secrets therein--is through his penis."
But our story digresses. David continued talking: "And I would like to be tested and evaluated in all three areas, sir. Only then will I feel confident enough to agree to compete." Of course, this statement was 110 percent bullshit. Bradley knew that Captain McAllister knew he was stronger than any man he ever faced, and he also knew his physique was singular and unchallenged. And of course, he also was aware that his sexual prowess was beyond challenge. McAllister smirked slightly as he made his demand though. Bradley realized that it wasn't the destination that concerned David; he was just fascinated by the journey. He didn't need confirmation any more than he needed a prescription for Viagara.
"I see," Bradley said. He cleared his throat. "Well, then. I guess that would be doable." He had a feeling he knew exactly what McAllister was up to, and that pleased him (and his erection) to no end. But these things have to be handled carefully: "You name the person you want to evaluate you, and I'll order him to report whenever you're ready."
"Thank you, sir. I request that you yourself do the evaluation. Sir."
Bradley smiled. Thought so. "I see. Very well then. We will commence with the evaluation at 0600 tomorrow morning. The first session will test you for the Strength part of the competition. Meet me at the Base Gym at that time."
"Yes, sir," McAllister said, saluting--even though his junk was practically sticking out from his underwear at his open zipper. "But sir?" McAllister asked.
"Yes? What is it captain?"
"Well, sir, I'm just wondering..." David made like he was all coy and shy. Still, Bradley was intimidated beyond description. Bradley would agree to anything he asked. "...I was wondering if, since you have already begun a cursory inspection of my upper body..."
"Yes?" the colonel gulped hard.
"Perhaps you might want to make a further--initial, mind you--inspection of my physique. If your afternoon schedule allows, of course." Bradley would of course clear all appointments for this kind of activity--even if his calendar included a visit by the President himself.
The colonel cleared his throat and rounded his desk, standing behind it. He picked up his military version of an iPad and scrolled through his calendar. He stopped and looked up at the captain. And even though he'd just had his hands all over those bulging muscles, his breath caught again at the re-focussing of his eyes on the cock-hardening body. He cleared his throat, again, and said, "Why, as a matter of fact, I am free for the rest of the day." He hoped the captain would believe--or at lease continue to play along with--this bullshit of faux scheduling and play-arranging of schedules. Of course he would have nothing the rest of the day; not when it came to spending time on that supremely-muscled physique.
"Very well, sir," David said.
"So..." Bradley said, placing his iPad-type-device back on his desk. And instead of giving McAllister an order, he made a suggestion. He hoped his acquiescence to the captain's huge body and enormously seductive muscles would not come across as subservient.
He hoped.
"So..." he repeated, "...perhaps we could move over here, to a more relaxed setting." He motioned to a sitting area at the side of his office; it contained a couch and two chairs, surrounding a coffee table, arranged in front of a large, wooden bookshelf. The area was accented by a beautiful floor rug. Ah, the perks of being a colonel. Bradley scurried ahead of the captain and pulled the coffee table out of the mix. "There," he smiled as David approached. "This should give us plenty of room..." For a very thorough examination of your body, he thought.
The captain stood in the center of the ornate Egyptian rug, still and at strict attention--again, even though he was decidedly not in uniform.
"At ease, captain," Bradley coughed, once again overwhelmed with the presence of this muscle demigod.
McAllister obeyed, of course. He moved his feet slightly apart and placed his hands at his back side.
"Go ahead and stand down, David," Bradley said softly. David relaxed his hands at his sides. Yet is was obviously impossible for the man to not be the picture of erect strength and supreme readiness. Still, he stood neither at attention or at ease, taking the posture of any man simply standing in a room with his trousers open and his copious genitals protruding under his briefs. Normal-like.
"So, David, what... I mean... how... where..." Bradley was flustered at the magnitude of his assignment.
"Sir, perhaps you want to continue to assess my upper body... until you feel more comfortable with finishing the task of removing the rest of my uniform so you can inspect... everything."
Bradley had, of course, started the undressing sequence; apparently David wanted the colonel to continue with that. The colonel's heart rate, already at unhealthy levels, threatened to undo him. He cleared his throat--as was becoming his custom--and agreed. He threw a quick glance at his door to make sure it was indeed locked, and once again lamented the lack of a deadbolt. He returned to stand in front of the monolith of muscle. He gazed up at David's bright blue eyes. Those eyes--even without all of the accompanying muscle--were bewitching. Add in the muscle and, well, no amount of eye gorgeousness could make any difference. Still, there was nothing about Captain McAllister that didn't make Colonel Bradley swoon. He stood there, examining every exposed millimeter of the captain's muscle, unable to move.
"Sir... at your convenience," David prodded.
"Ahem... yes, si-- I mean... yes, of course." Once again, Bradley's hands trembled as they approached the twin spheres that comprised the Altar of the captain's chest.
David, in his non-military stance, looked down with an almost sympathetic look; like he really understood how overwhelming it must be to touch.
As his palms and fingers landed on the magnificent chest, Bradley almost belched a sigh/combination-gasp/combination-groan. Regardless of the contact they had shared minutes earlier, it never, ever got old--this feeling and caressing of David's muscles. He spent many minutes moving his hands over the offered mounds of upper-body muscle. Front and back. Top to the bottom of David's abs. He spent long minutes enjoying the captain's latimus dorsi--they were wide at the top and tapered down to the waist so nicely. The colonel rounded the captain's body and explored the vast landscape of that mounded, rippling, tight back. Shoulders. Lats again. Arms: Holy hell those arms were stupendous from front or back!
Eventually he moved to David's front side again. His boner was obvious under his uniform trousers. David definitely noted it, but in deference to the colonel's dignity, he said nothing. Still, Bradley knew he knew. The slight upturn of a corner of the captain's mouth said everything. Bradley let his hands stop on the two pectoral mountains. He gazed up into David's friendly eyes. "I have no words, David. Your physique is beyond amazing."
David smiled down. "Thank you, sir. But seriously, there's so much more to see." The captain pushed his trousers down on his hips a bit, then he pulled his skivvies forward and down a bit as well, exposing the root of his veiny cock.
Bradley stared down at the adjustments David was making. The captain's long, sexy fingers tugged and pulled, making his pubes and cock-root more and more visible with each move. The "V" of the "Adonis belt" actually made Bradley gulp with desire. Apparently, David noticed it, and he shimmied his trousers down even more, showing off the skinniness of his small waist. Obviously, the captain has some staggering genetics; so many bodybuilders--regardless of whether or not they possess a roid gut--have a waist that just down't narrow down. And it's largely due to how wide their hip bones are. Nothing you can do about it. Your waist can only be as narrow as your hip bones. David's hips were narrow enough to allow his shoulder-to-hip ratio well over two-to-one. His shoulders were much more than twice the width of his hips. This is astounding--and quite rare--in the bodybuilding world. So David played off the wonderful pouring-milk-out-of-a-pitcher look of his torso pouring into his pants. He wriggled a bit with his belt line, then stopped. "Perhaps you could help me with this, sir?"
"Why... yes. Of course." It'd be my pleasure. "But first, let's get you out of those boots, captain." He sat David on one of the wingback chairs and unlaced, then pulled off, the big black boots. Then the socks. "Much better," he said.
David lifted his hips and pushed his pants down; he kept his briefs in place. Wearing only those briefs now, he stood up again. They weren't your standard issue briefs. They were more like a thong, actually. Bradley suspected that David often went commando. He'd noted the captain's bulge countless times, and it was pretty obvious that he liked to be a free-swinger. But perhaps David knew why he had been summoned to the colonel's office and had donned this--this thing--to increase the mystery, the allure... the sexiness?
Regardless, what stood in front of Colonel Bradley now was nothing short of mind-numbing. Muscle developed to perfection; a physique without peer. Beef stacked on top of beef on top of beef. Bradley felt light-headed. If seeing David's bare upper body for the first time a few minutes ago had been epic, well now... now... with only a sock-like pouch containing what was obviously something that looked like it should belong on a horse, not a mere man... and all those rippling, hard, lean, vascular muscles just... there... it was enough to make Roger Bradley see stars.
"Are you alright, sir?" David's innocence only made the hotness factor ramp up times ten. Of course Bradley wasn't alright.
"I'm... fine," the colonel choked out. "It's just that... you are simply stupendous, David."
"Thank you, sir," David said politely. "Feel free to continue your inspection when you're ready."
Bradley's heart skipped a beat. It was almost like the captain was giving him an order. Or at least... permission. Something that, according to rank, was obviously not done. And it made Bradley harder than he'd ever been in his lift. His subordinate was so strong and... strong... that Bradley found himself on the receiving end of the Alpha's magnificence. And then, it did slip: "Yes, sir," Bradley squeaked out. Oh fuck no. Had he said that? Well, yes. And yes, it was somehow appropriate. No one outranked David. Not physically. We'll just have to go with that....
The colonel "obeyed" the captain. He stepped close, in front of David's nearly-naked muscle body.
The only thing hiding the muscle man's "privates" was a nylon-like, white, very skimpy, cock-and-balls-hugging "thong." It was so minuscule that the only thing holding it at David's narrow waist was a string. In the back, a single string ran from that waist string down between David's glorious, tight ass cheeks, to hidden locales between those prodigious legs where it held the base of the front pouch in place. And that pouch hugged every square centimeter of the captain's cock and low-hangers--so tightly and with such thin material that the stupefying network of veins on David's jumbo cock was obscenely visible.
Combine all of that genital beauty--covered as it was--with the stupefying mass and definition of the man, and you had a aggregation of masculine perfection par excellence.
Bradley began once again, as had become his custom, on the captain's bewildering chest, placing each hand on top of an offered hairy pectoral. David stood stoically still, allowing the colonel to "assess." Bradley's hands began moving all over David's upper body--chest, nipples, abs, lats, arms, deltoids and traps... even the captain's gorgeously thick, manly neck fell under his scrutiny. Bradley was unable to contain himself; he blurted expletives and groans each time his fingers and palms found yet another cock-hardening muscle to appreciate.
After David's upper body had been inspected, enjoyed and felt, it was time to move lower. The colonel bent his knees and knelt in front of the muscle god. Filling his field of vision, Bradley was struck with the sheer mass of David's megalithic legs. They were the most powerful, enormous quads and hamstrings imaginable--even beyond imaginable. God Himself could not have imagined such wonder. Add this impenetrable size to the fact that David's physique held so little fat that every single striation and muscle fiber literally vibrated with pulsing power, and well, as Bradley's hands moved over the twin continents of upper leg muscle, he nearly fell forward and held on to them to keep from toppling over at the captain's feet.
Of course, between these Herculean legs, David's pouch was pushed forward toward Bradley, and the sight filled him with awe. The captain's body was indeed awesome. With each pass of his shaking hands, the colonel slipped closer and closer to the extended pouch, taunting himself with what lie beneath.
The captain held perfectly still, perfectly comfortable to let his superior officer enjoy his supreme muscle body.
At one point, Bradley's finger slipped against the full, white pouch as his hand moved over one of those legs. David did not react, so Bradley, emboldened, did it again on the next pass. Then again--and more blatantly. Still, David remained comfortably still. So Bradley began extending a finger up onto the pouch itself as his hands moved seductively closer and closer. It was at this point he noticed movement under the very thin fabric. The veiny shaft was thickening, and lengthening.
The colonel looked up to David's face, but because of the pectoral protrusion, he had to pull his head away to avoid the blockage of his view. David was staring straight ahead--not nervous (certainly not), just comfortable and still. Yet... he was getting hard. "Is this okay?" the colonel timidly inquired.
"Of course, sir." David glanced down and gave his CO a tepid smile. "I would hope you feel free to examine whatever you need to examine. And as you know, the sexual control aspect of the competition is very important. Please feel free...."
"Feel free... to?"
The captain fought back a chuckle. "Feel free to touch anything you want. As you know, I always appreciate thoroughness. I want to be prepared for all aspects of the competition."
That was exactly what Bradley had been hoping to hear. The realization that he was being given permission--specific permission--to examine and evaluate David's sex organs, with the goal of making sure the captain's sexual control was indeed the best in the military, well Bradley was beside himself with excitement. His erection in his uniform trousers was as hard as it had ever been in his entire life!
Having been granted permission, Bradley moved the fingertips of his right hand onto the thin fabric covering David's enormous cock. The colonel's left hand remained on David's expansive right leg, feeling the hardness and rippling vascularity while his right hand began moving over the fabric that covered this incredible shaft.
David remained still, but very, very present. The colonel's movements over his leg muscles and his cock continued to have their effect, making the captain grow and thicken under the thin, white nylon.
Oh all the gods in all the universe, this was beyond powerful--beyond stupefying. He was fondling Captain McAllister! And David was allowing--even encouraging--it! Bradley's nimble fingers--although still trembling--moved over the ridges of David's veiny cock. The veins were breathtaking! And what he was feeling over the fabric was nothing short of immense. David's genitals, like the rest of him, were the epitome of big. Bradley coughed and groaned, unable to keep his reactions to himself. His unintelligible moans were interspersed with, "Jesus Christ," and "Holy fuck," among other expletives.
And the captain just stood there, comfortable and steady, even though the colonel's ministrations were continuing to make him harder and harder with each pass up and down his covered penis. The down-pointed organ pushed and pressed against its confines; the lip of the helmet gave a stark visible penis line on the fabric.
Bradley must have pleasured his hand on David's covered cock--and occasionally his balls--for well over ten minutes before the captain's growing erection became nearly too much for the thong to contain. Bradley looked up at the captain and squeaked, "Am I making you uncomfortable?"
"Not at all, sir."
"I mean, as far as how hard you're getting, David. It can't feel good to have this python restrained as it is."
"Well, sir, you may have a point. I do think giving it some air might feel nice."
Some air. Okay. Like, let's just take this thing out for a walk. Some fresh air will do it good, you know?
Bradley's heart beat fast and hard with the knowledge that he was about to expose this titanic monolith, and then, of course, continue to stimulate the muscular captain to full hardness. He cleared his throat and began to tug on the front top of the pouch. He revealed even more of David's jet-black pubes, and more of the base of that veiny cock. He pulled down more--slowly and carefully, showing the utmost reverence for the organ he was methodically uncovering. It was like the unveiling of a statue, except this was much better than any marble or clay creation; as well, reveal would not be like the quick jerk of a cape or blanket over a sculpture. No; this would be an unhurried, reverent unwrapping, with all the delicate care such an organ merits.
Bradley pulled more, and additional millimeters of the rock-like strata of the rod were revealed. More of the thick, curly, black pubic hair shown now, framing the giant column of sex. More... nearly half of the cock was now visible, and the muscle god's testicles began to appear. The colonel pulled more--and slowly. Pretty soon, the thickening, long shaft was visible all the way down to the lip of the helmet. Goddamn! It was unbelievable!
The colonel's face was less than a foot from that anaconda now. He slipped some fingers inside the pouch, next to the cock, and inserted them into the pubic forest, grazing the hardness of the heated organ. And further, inside the pouch, opening it, revealing more.... Finally, he pulled the cloth so low that David's entire genitals fell forward, fully exposed, ballooning into the room. His avocado-sized testes dangled behind it. The force of the release nearly caused the weapon's plump, hardening stock to thwap Bradley on the cheek. Nearly. As it was, a droplet of the muscle giant's pre-cum splashed out and wetted the colonel's face. He did not wipe it off.
Not even fully erect, the veiny shaft was still so fucking huge that Bradley had a hard time processing it. The enormous dick curved in a long, thick arc, dangling in front of a set of gonads that would handily take the blue ribbon at any state fair. The balls hung in moist, warm-looking sacs that were stretched almost as low as the end of the thickening cock head. The captain's shaft was growing, right in front of the colonel's eyes... longer and thicker... a living, growing, pulsing testament to the ultimate manliness of the muscle monster who possessed it.
Instead of immediately removing the bodybuilding captain's thong completely, he tucked it behind and under those mind-boggling balls. He couldn't help himself. He had to touch. He had to experience that cock and those balls. So he did. One hand gently, tenderly, cupped the heavy, low-hanging testicles, while the fingertips of the other hand over the now horizontal shaft. The genitals were perfect: Gorgeously shaped and meticulously trimmed.
While Bradley caressed and fondled, David got harder and bigger. After a few gentle strokes, the captain's megalith was nearing its peak hardness, pulsing upward with each visible heartbeat that displayed itself in the hardening organ.
Bradley fell back a few inches, awed by what he was seeing and feeling. He dropped his hands to his sides and watched with astonishment while David's erection bobbed and pulsed to its zenith.
After a moment of appropriate veneration, the colonel began pulling down the thong. David stood completely still while Bradley spent the next minute or so pushing, pulling, and struggling to get the skimpy article down over those monumental upper legs. The captain didn't purposely hinder Bradley's efforts, but neither did he assist by moving in any way that might be helpful. The legs were so fucking enormous that his task was almost gruelingly exasperating. Finally, he was able to stretch the fabric enough to shimmy it over the largest part of the upper legs and push it down over the freakishly-overblown, and over-hard calves. Then David stepped out of his underwear, now entirely naked and on display.
To say the body was phenomenal would be a comical understatement. It was beyond description. And it was totally erect. David inhaled a sighing breath, making his chest expand--yet even on the exhale his massive torso did not ever actually minimize.
"Thank you, sir," David said politely. "That feels much better."
Bradley could only clear his throat. He wanted to mount the physique before him, wrap his legs around David's waist, worship that body with abandon, and never, ever, ever stop. He was easily as hard as the captain, although his meager penis was a joke compared.... Still, he throbbed with desire. And since he knew his desire to climb the captain like a tree would not be fulfilled, his second best idea was to strip himself down and release his own modest boner. Then he wanted to rub his cock all over every square inch of muscle that David possessed, dribbling his pre-cum over David's abs, orgasming over David's chest, then starting over and doing the same with every other presented body part. Till he died. Which, considering how hard his heart was pounding at that moment, might not be far off.
"Are you okay, sir?" David asked sincerely. Yet... did Bradley detect a slight amount of pleasure under the question?
"I--I am... I honestly... don't know, David. You are... I just want to... to be honest, David, all I want to do is take off all my clothes and experience every... every single muscle on you."
"Thank you, sir," David gave a smile this time. "Please don't feel inhibited, sir. Like I keep saying, I want to be fully prepared for the competition."
Bradley mumbled a combination of garbled consonants and vowels, whimpering while he furiously began pulling off his own uniform. He was so intense in his mission that buttons actually popped off his shirt. His hands unfastened his belt with lightning speed.
He was nude in record time. His drooling cock pointed up at the captain. "Oh, my... god, David. I can't believe this." Bradley was beside himself, not simply with lust, but with the surprise knowledge that he was so incredibly turned-on by the captain's muscles. He'd never been attracted to men. Never. Well, never to a man other than David. And now, even though it had only been recently in his life that he met the captain, it felt like a lifetime of waiting was now over. He didn't know how to describe it--what to think of it. All he could do was go with it. And enjoy it.
The contest be damned; this was purely and simply a chance for Bradley to get off. And get off was exactly what he was going to do. It was the only thing he could do in David's naked presence.
He stepped close to the captain's body. His drooling erection grazed against David's left leg and hip. And sure enough, he began dribbling clear fluid onto the behemoth's body. Once again, David stood calmly still, just allowing.... Bradley flexed his cock occasionally, squirting out more pre-cum onto the captain's leg, back side, and stomach.
"Colonel," David quipped, "you seem quite aroused, sir."
"You have no idea, captain. You have no idea."
David chuckled. "Well, I guess it's a good thing you're not entering the sex control aspect of the competition."
"Indeed not. With you there, I'd be helpless to control myself." Bradley looked down at David's mighty cock; it was fully-erect, and... enormous. It too, was dribbling pre-cum down its veiny length. "And yet, it seems you are also quite aroused."
"I am," David answered stoically. "No doubt about that." He put his hand on his wet shaft and gave himself a long, slow stroke, then let go. "But fortunately I haven't been attempting to hide my excitement. I'm confident that when the time comes, I'll be able to keep it down as long as I need to."
"And then, when the stimulation contest starts? You believe you'll be able to refrain from orgasming?"
"Of course."
"Even when someone--another competitor--begins to masturbate you?"
"Colonel, don't you worry about me. I've been working with my men... ahem... I mean, I've had plenty of practice. I'm sure no one can make me come without me wanting to."
Bradley's heart skipped a beat at that. The idea of forcing David to climax against his will brought such scenes to the colonel's mind that he couldn't tamp down a verbal response. A loud moan escaped his mouth. Then he asked David, "Captain, is it alright if I come closer?"
"Sir, it wouldn't be possible for you to come much closer. But yes, you have permission to come as close as you like. Feel anything, sir. Touch me. Allow yourself to enjoy contact with my muscles. The best way to get ultimately close to me would be to push yourself inside me, of course... or to have me do that to you...."
"And..." Bradley literally gasped at the prospect. "And... you would be alright with that?"
A slight smile turned up one corner of the captain's mouth. "Sir, we're here to approximate contest conditions, are we not? It is my understanding that during the sexual stimulation and interaction with other contestants, nothing is off the table, no? I've attended one of the IMSSPC contests before, as a spectator, and from what I recall happening in the private room during the sex scenes, a lot of sexual contact takes place: hand jobs, blow jobs, rimming, kissing, flexing, sixty-nines, full anal penetration... and more."
"More?"
"Sir, you've been to the contests."
"Yes, I have. I'm sorry. I just... I just can't imagine you in that room. With another bodybuilder soldier... doing all those things... Captain, no one has an ice cube's chance in hell with you in the contest."
"Thank you, sir," David said seriously. "I do appreciate your support. But the contest I attended a few years ago had some fucking huge, gorgeous muscle bodies. I appreciate your faith in me, sir, but I don't consider it a done deal by any means."
"Well..." Bradley's trembling hands moved over and over David's offered muscles, "I do. There's no one who will compare, captain. You're going to leave the other contestants whimpering at your feet."
David smiled. "Sir, shall we continue?"
The colonel just couldn't stop looking at that cock. The shaft rose in a beautiful, hard erection. He had to touch it... and more. He moved close, then in humble reverence, he knelt down in front of David's naked body. On his knees, he was eye-level with that organ. He cupped the balls, and then began a slow, methodical session of licking and kissing it. It was so big that Bradley realized this task would take quite some time. But he was oh so willing to invest the time. The veins of David's erection felt amazing on Bradley's tongue. Just amazing. He relished every single distended noodle-like blood vessel that fed the organ.
His tongue lapped and licked, teasing the captain with his every contact. It didn't take much time to wet every part of it--and the low-hanging, shaved balls. Bradley had never done this before... but it somehow seemed so natural, totally natural for him to be enjoying this other-worldly cock and balls. And as long as David was content to hold still like he was, Bradley was definitely going to enjoy this. He kissed and licked, shining up that oversized pole like it was a new car. But he didn't take it into his mouth just yet, even though that's what he wanted to do... so bad.
He just kept licking, up and down the thick, vein-wrapped shaft, while he fondled David's big, heavy balls. David was still, but Bradley was sure he heard an occasional moan that indicated the big guy was enjoying the attention. When it did come time to finally enjoy pulling that plump helmet into his mouth, Bradley hesitated. Fuck it tasted great: salty, sweaty, sweet, warm... but it felt even bigger than it looked. Just the head filled his mouth! There was no way in hell he would be able to take much of the actual shaft inside. But he would give it his best shot. The idea of helping David practice for the contest notwithstanding, Bradley wanted so much to experience this thing as best as he could. The thought of taking a man inside his mouth had never occurred to him, that is until he'd met David, of course. Still, those fleeting thoughts had been so unusual for him... he had tried to ignore most of them. Now, though, he was prepared to admit that he likely would be obsessed with all parts of David's incredible body--including this hard, warm organ that now poked inside his mouth--for the rest of his life. He'd been ruined. He seriously wondered if his wife, Maureen, would ever be able to satisfy him again. At the very least, he'd be forced to fantasize about David whenever he'd have sex now.
David seemed to sense the colonel's hesitation; Bradley had been ruminating, motionless, for minutes... ever since he'd pulled the cock head into his mouth. "Is everything alright, sir?"
Bradley pulled off it. "Yes. I am... it's just so big, David. I don't know what to do with it!"
The captain chuckled. "I'm so sorry, sir..." he flexed his cock and it bobbed in front of Bradley's face. "Such problems... such problems...."
Bradley looked up at the smiling captain and gave a faux sneer and frown. "Asshole," he smirked.
David laughed and bobbed his enormous cock some more.
Bradley went down on it again, and this time he pulled more and more of it inside. Damn, it was one fucking big sausage!
"You might want to try to unhinge your jaw, sir."
Bradley moaned. What did that even mean? He continued to move his mouth over it, his tongue grazing the veiny shaft as he pulled it in farther. When it hit the back of his throat, he gagged. But he didn't pull off. He forced himself to relax. He forced himself to open his throat and take more. He realized that for David to find a guy who could do this organ justice, it must be a very rare occurrence. Something in the back of his mind wanted so much to be the man who could do it--to make David feel good. Maybe he'd need to practice?
He began to moved up and down the shaft--what he could handle anyway--and he rotated his head too, trying with everything he had to massage and push on David's pole as best he could. David remained still, although Bradley was sure he flexed his cock occasionally, and that action always elicited a deposit of the muscle giant's pre-cum inside the colonel's wanting mouth.
The blow-job went on for quite a while; it became apparent, though, that Bradley was not going to be able to get David off enough to make him come. He pulled it out, and worshiped it with more licks and kisses before standing up.
Bradley pressed his entire body against the captain's. David leaned down and moved their faces together. Bradley stood on his tiptoes and arched his neck. David kissed him. Then the muscle giant put his hands on the colonel's hips and started to lift him up--still kissing. Bradley's body moved against David's rippling muscles on its ascension. Slowly, David moved him higher... until their faces were level. He continued to kiss Bradley, pushing his tongue inside the colonel's mouth, exploring every tooth, every millimeter of his tongue and cheeks. And while he did this, he slowly lowered Bradley, just a bit, to give the colonel the muscle-contact experience of his life.
Moans moved from Bradley's mouth into David's. The captain's massive, strong arms bulged with the colonel's weight, yet the giant god of muscle gave no clue that this action took any effort at all. It was as if the colonel weighed less than what David would use to do warm-up biceps curls. Much less.
All of this contact with David's body--up and down... slowly up and down--quickly took any amount of self control far away from Bradley. He swooned as his chest, stomach, erection, and legs moved against David's rippling, bulging physique, and... after just a minute or two of this, his body tightened. He groaned into David's mouth.
Apparently the muscle captain sensed what was coming, because he stopped Bradley's movement at the top of the course, and held him there, kissing and frenching the colonel as he started to wet David's torso. Bradley's body jerked hard with the first blast of cum, and he whimpered into David's mouth. His body alternately tightened then went limp while his cock spewed volley after volley of white, ropey cum between the two of them.
When the colonel was finished, David lifted him a bit higher. Then he slowly canted his hips so that his monolithic erection made contact with Bradley's sphincter. The colonel didn't have time to realize what was going on. Before he knew it, David was invading his ass. He pulled his mouth off the captain's and wailed. The thing moving into his ass was bigger than... it was... oh holy fuuuuuuck.... The veiny, hard implement moved inside as Bradley's body was lowered onto it. David moved his mouth back to Bradley's and moaned inside his CO's mouth. Bradley softly wailed into the captain's mouth, helpless to do anything about the painful invasion. Inch after torturous inch moved into his ass, and he feared he might black out. But he didn't.
When he was all the way down onto David's enormous, hard cock, the colonel leaned forward and buried his face in the deep cleavage of the hairy pectoral domes. He cried, lightly while David held him down on his cock--to the hilt. David wrapped his big, hard arms around him and comforted him in his pain with gentle back rubs and caresses. They kissed and exchanged glances. "You doing alright colonel?" David asked tenderly.
Bradley whimpered. "Ye--I think so."
"Do you need me to pull you off me?"
"Yes... but no. I... it hurts... but I never want to leave... please keep me here." He tightened his cock and pushed out another pop of cum between them. It joined the massive wetness he'd produced just from being close to the muscle man.
David kissed him tenderly again and chuckled. "Alright. I'd like to keep you here, and masturbate myself with that hot, tight ass of yours... just to show you some of that self control I keep talking about."
"Oh?" The thought of David lifting and lowering him on his telephone-pole of a shaft sent chills running through his body.
"Yes. I'm going to fuck you into next week, sir. But I'm going to stop before I climax. Just so you can experience my discipline. Is that okay?"
"Fuuuuuuuck...."
David chuckled again. "I'll take that as as yes." With that, he began to use the colonel's ass like a Fleshlight, lifting and lowering Bradley up and down, nearly the full length of his foot-long organ. Up and down... faster... harder... more... and even faster. Each downward thrust was to the hilt, and fuck it hurt. It hurt so good. The captain's muscles began to glisten with a light patina from his efforts. Using the colonel's body as his personal masturbation tool was the most erotic thing Bradley had ever experienced. And lifting and lowering Bradley's 220 pound body up and down like that... it would have been unbelievably difficult for a mere mortal. But David was not your normal man, in any way. Obviously his strength was off the charts. As was his physique. As was his sexual prowess.
After it felt like the captain was nearing an uncontrollable and inescapable orgasm, David slowed down. His sweaty body transferred moisture between the two of them. He slowed down more. The piston in Bradley's ass hole began to subside.
As David finally lifted Bradley up and off his cock, the captain looked as if he might finally spill over into orgasm. His face was tight and scrunched. He winced hard while he set Bradley on the floor. His body flexed tight, sending waves of muscle rippling and undulating, tightening and hardening while he seemed to fight off orgasm. He growled out loudly, nearly sending shockwaves through the room. He tightened further, into a makeshift most-muscular pose; his wet, red erection angrily protruded up, in front of his clenched wrists while his shoulders, arms, chest, and abs--not to mention those building-sized legs--shuddered with quavering, trembling power... all seeming to combine in an enormous effort to stave off a pending orgasm.
Had David waited too long to stop? Was he going to lose it? Bradley kept his hands at the ready, waiting to shield his face in case the captain's cock erupted. He watched David with awe. David's entire body trembled with his exertion to forestall what looked to the colonel as the inevitable. Fuck, the man was struggling!
It was that image--the vision of this incomprehensible compilation of masculine muscle--that made Bradley suddenly begin spurting once again. His cock raised up with an almost audible burst of cum, firing shot after renewed shot at the captain. Some of his ejaculate joined the previous deposits--from his earlier orgasm--some of it splattered in new splotches, coating David's tight, flexing muscle body with new globs of white.
For a moment, it looked like Bradley's newest orgasm might actually be the sexual straw that would break David's backbone of willpower. The captain obviously sensed what was happening, and to the ejaculating colonel it appeared that his blasts of cum onto David's body might just tip him over the edge.
Everything froze. Bradley finally finished orgasming onto the captain. And finally, eventually... David began to relax out of his pose. He panted and stood erect. His own cock was nearly plastered against his abs. He breathed hard while Bradley did the same; both men were exhausted.
"Whew," Bradley finally eked out. "Are you okay, captain?"
"Yes, sir," David said between the heavy breaths that made his enormous chest rise and fall. "I am."
"You almost... you seemed to almost..."
"Come? No sir. I was under control the entire time."
Bradley didn't want to contradict McAllister, but fuck, he wasn't sure.... Regardless, what the colonel had just witnessed--David fighting tooth and nail against an orgasm, with every ounce of his will--was one of the hottest things he'd ever seen. And he couldn't imagine what it would be like to see the captain go up against some other over-muscled stud at the contest. Bradley obviously was a total amateur... and he didn't possess any kind of body--nor self-control--that would be meeting David at the competition. What would that be like? To see a man nearly as intoxicatingly muscular as David go toe-to-toe? Did anyone even stand a chance against him? Was there possibly some young muscle stud who could at least give David a run for his money?
Holy fuck.
_________________ *IMSSPC: The Inter-branch Military Strength, Sex & Physique Competition: "Mr. Military Muscle"