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TWO BULLS FOR DAMIAN
by Boyatt Hart
Chapter 2: The Grand Idea
At the six month milestone of my new job Luther and I were both enjoying the side benefits immensely. The experience he brought to the table, even though it was heterosexual in nature, made him a mentor in my eyes. His manner and demeanor while fucking me was my only template so of course my sexual 'form' grew to be the spitting image of his.
No doubt this helped him feel at ease with me for the most part. His only hurdle, really, was working through the stigma that had been imprinted on him by society of man-on-man sex. Even though he desired it as much as I did, that stigma held him back somewhat in the early encounters that followed our heated introduction to it.
I on the other hand, once I actually got to hold another man's cock in my hands, taste it in my mouth and feel it pumping my ass, never looked back in fear that there was anything wrong with our form of intimate physical expression. For example, after that first experience of gagging a bit at the thought of having another man's seed on my tongue and forcing myself to swallow what his cock had pumped into my mouth, I quickly developed quite a taste for his distinctive flavor. He, however, had a little more to overcome having spent close to 30 years as the one always making the deposit and never even thinking about the experience of being on the receiving end of it.
But six months in everything was rolling along fine and he found our sex very casual and recreational; a chance to "rassle around" with another big man with a pretty big dick whose animal instincts set him free for the first time in his life from having to worry that his own were too crude to be indulged. I had swallowed quite a few of his copious, potent loads already before he at last silently resolved to take mine.
Taking my dick up his big meaty butt wasn't nearly the challenge to his self-esteem that taking it in his mouth was in the early going. But he adapted to that, coming around to even letting me cum in his mouth instead of finishing me off with one of his meaty paws...as long as he had a hand towel at the ready to spit it into.
Then it finally happened. I'll never forget how boyishly cute this burly bull of a man old enough to have fathered me looked as he blushed beet-red the first time he lifted his face far enough above my belly to show me my load on his tongue then screw up the courage to swallow it. I took his round face in my hands with a sense of authority that I had never felt before and fucked his mouth on my tongue as he had done to me on our first night.
It was one thing to taste my cum from my hand, as I eventually came to realize every gay man in the world before me had done, but to taste it in the mouth of the man I admired more than any other man on earth at that time was emboldening beyond my wildest dreams. I felt as though it was his signal to me that in his fatherly crow's-feet-crinkled eyes I was every bit the man he was. He never struggled the slightest with it again that I could tell and the intensity of our sex play only skyrocketed afterward. We never really spoke of such things but I think that, in my quickly developed freedom to take his loads without losing my own sense of masculinity, he might have seen me as something of a mentor, too.
What we did discuss openly after that momentous occasion were more creative ways to achieve orgasm with each other. Fucking each other's ass went from strictly doggy position to fucking missionary so we could see and read each other's faces. And missionary led to us sitting on each other's dick while the rider fucked his hard-on up between our bellies, the rider's convulsive orgasm frequently triggering the fucker's with a torrent of climactic cock-strangling clenches of his sphincter. Riding cock came to include riding reverse cowboy to let the fucker enjoy the view of the rider's tautly stretched asshole sliding up and down over his dick. Sucking cock led to offering up each other's mouth for the other to enjoy as another fuck hole. The taking of each other's loads became cause for celebratory ball sucking. Ball sucking in turn became a means of helping each other achieve erection when needed. We found ourselves behaving like boys at a sleepover as our newfound sense of freedom took hold.
"How big is that damn dick of yours, sport?" he once asked me after I'd fucked his ass.
"I dunno, how big is this thing?" I countered wrapping my hand around his hooded Hercules of a member, swollen so hard it was a deep crimson in color.
"I dunno," he said with a grin, "Wanna measure 'em?"
"Why not?" I fairly giggled, "Let's do it."
"I'll bet Jean left a tape measure around here somewhere as quick as she hightailed it," he said grinning ear-to-ear as he scampered off with his huge, bloated daddy dong waggling out in front of him.
By the time he got back I was only half hard so I went first and put the tape to the top side of his engorged cock. I pressed back into his surprisingly modest pubic pad and it came up 8 and 5/8 inches long with 6 and 13/16 inches of girth at the fattest part of his shaft. To his disappointment I was continuing to deflate.
"Open your mouth," he instructed me.
I obeyed and he stuffed it with his throbbing hard-on, skillfully fucking the fat head of it against my gullet without making me gag on him. Long before he deposited his creamy load in me I was harder than diamonds again.
"Hand me the tape," he said with a smug look of accomplishment.
He put the tape to the top side of mine, pressing back as I had done him, then felt along my shaft for the thickest part and stretched the tape again.
"7 and 3/8 by 5 and 3/4!" he announced, his great belly shaking in laughter as he exclaimed, "This must be Kip's!"
"What?" I asked looking totally confused I'm sure.
"I say this must be Kip's 'cause it looks to me that we're serving up Big Boys here!" he explained in continued laughter.
His joviality was so infectious that I couldn't resist laughing with him. It was silly childishness, two grown men measuring each other's cock. But even acknowledging that, he still made me swell with pride as he leaned over me on the bed, wiped his butt juice off my hard-on with a damp wash rag and proceeded to stuff it in his mouth to the point of purposely gagging himself on me.
He reeled up off of me and nonchalantly wiped a trail of his saliva from his chin on one of his thick forearms.
"Ever wonder what it would be like to get some dick hound in the bed with us and stuff him at both ends? I sure do!" he confessed, gently stroking my cock as it loomed up in his face, "I bet you're a sight to behold fucking somebody with a dick like this and all that muscle to drive it home with!"
Immediately I found myself with a mental image of him at the other end of our imaginary 'guest'; over 300 hulking pounds of fantasy man in my eyes working the guy into a state of ecstasy with more than 8 1/2 inches of dick fatter than anything I'd ever even imagined on a man, not to mention those huge, low hanging balls he'd been slapping my face and ass with for the last six months. My hard cock twitched in his face at the thought.
"You like the idea, I can tell. Admit it, sport!" he said in mock accusation.
"You knew I would, you big horny bastard," I said with a grin as I put my hands on both sides of his giant, round head and guided his smiling mouth back onto my hard, pulsing meat.
He easily broke free and pulled off me again with a wink and a smile then dove back down on it.
It didn't take too long for the sight of the big brute noisily sucking my rock hard dick to make me give up another load from my aching balls.
He showed it to me on his tongue then gulped it down as he thumped my rigid cock on my belly and said, "There you go, sport! One good head job deserves another."
He slid up beside me on his bed at which point I pinned him beneath me and gave his mouth a hard tongue fucking.
"Where could we find somebody like that?" he asked when I let him up for air, "Somebody game to take us both on?"
I mulled the question over for a few minutes.
"A guy at one of the disco palaces once told me about a piano bar on Haven Rd called Old Eighty Eights where young guys who like older men go to score. With you as bait...," I trailed off.
"Me?" he asked in all seriousness, "What would anybody see in a fat old gorilla like me that would make them want to follow me home?"
I wrapped my hand as far as I could around his cock and massive balls and gave them a solid jiggle as I said, "Turn your chair out where anybody who cares to look can see what you keep stuffed down your right trouser leg, big fella! You'll probably be able to take your pick and have to turn the rest away."
"I just figured a younger, good looking guy like you would have better luck," he said reaching down below his magnificent belly and placing his big hand over mine.
"Think again," I countered, gently massaging his bulky package, "Where do you think I was screwing up the courage to go before you found me?"
"Yep," he said and paused, "That's the thing...screwing up the courage to go. I've never set foot in one of them places before. What if somebody from work sees me?
"What would any of those guys be doing in a neighborhood like that?" I asked.
"Good point," he replied pensively, then closed the conversation by saying, "Let me sleep on it."
"Alright," I responded and started giving him a relaxing belly rub.
He sighed contentedly and hauled me up onto him. His natural strength never failed to awe me. I could bench press something close to his body weight but the thought of hefting his burly bulk around as he had just done mine was as far-fetched in my mind as me suddenly speaking out in fluent Russian. I pressed my belly to his and started tweaking his gorgeous, dark brown nipples.
"You've gained weight since we did this last," he observed.
"All thanks to you," I said in sincere gratitude.
"Me? How so?" he inquired.
"I've been studying your eating habits," I informed him as he ground his soft warm genitals against mine.
"What would you possibly learn from them other than how to eat more than any one human being ever should?" he asked, wrapping his huge arms around my back and hugging me to him.
"You really don't see how powerfully built you are, do you?" I asked.
"I guess it's fair to say that 'powerfully built' are not the words that come to my mind when I see myself in the mirror," he confirmed, "especially nude."
"Well, you are," I assured him, "Nature handed you almost everything I've had to work like a dog to attain for the last sixteen years. When I see you naked I see a man with a naturally dense musculature; big, wide, gloriously thick and round, thighs and calves most bodybuilders would kill for...with a layer of fat, to be sure...but it's a sexy layer of fat that boasts confidence...no sign of blubber to be found anywhere on you."
My cock began to stir at my confession of physical admiration for him.
"Go on," he said with a sly smile.
"So I've been watching how you eat; well, not how so much as what. True you eat inordinate amounts of food, but none of the calories you take in are empty calories," I confessed further, "They're always foods high in nutritional content. So when you take us to all these incredible all-you-can-eat buffets at lunch almost five days a week I've started trying to eat what you eat, and as much of it as I can manage to pack in. Then I go home and burn as much of it as I can lifting...keeping your image fixed in my mind...as my goal."
He smiled and kissed me, our bellies making the feat more than a little awkward.
"I had no idea," he replied.
"It's true," I confirmed.
"So how much have you gained?" he asked.
"This morning I weighed 265, so 14 pounds," I reported.
"But on you it shows up as 14 more pounds of muscle," he said releasing his grasp on me and squeezing my shoulders in his big hands.
"Most of them did, but a few of them showed up as extra padding," I said with a grin as I guided his hands back onto my beefier but noticeably softer glutes.
"So they have!" he said, looking a bit aroused as he slicked a thick middle finger in his mouth and proceeded to work it up my hole before continuing, "But then I've never thought of you as having a bodybuilder's kind of muscles. Never have figured out what would make a man want to grow titties bigger than a woman's. All I can think when I see titties like that is how good it would feel to squeeze them to my dick and give 'em a good fuck."
I laughed out loud picturing some poor bodybuilder trapped between Luther's powerful legs, face to face with the gaping meatus of that huge cock head as it lunged out of its velvety hood from between the meaty pecs he was so proud of, getting his chin hammered by it till it exploded all over his face in one of the giant man's colossal spurting orgasms.
"What sort of lifts do you do?" he asked, grinning as he brought me back to reality by wiggling his thick digit in my hole.
"Mostly strength building moves like bench press, military press, standing rows, squats, power cleans...stuff like that. Not all that many really. I just do as many repetitions as I can with the biggest weights I think I can handle given that I've got nobody with me as a spotter," I explained as he pulled his finger out of me and playfully touched it to the end of my nose before groping around for the wash rag.
"What's the heaviest weight you lift?" he pressed on with almost boyish curiosity.
"My last bench was 305 pounds...five reps," I told him.
He gave a long, slow whistle and sank his fingers admiringly into my arms as he softly said, "Damn...that's nearly as much as I weigh."
"Yeah? And how much is that?" I asked as I snuggled against his vast bulk.
I knew by my weight and his size advantage that he was over 300 and had been dying to know by how much since meeting him, but never had a polite way to solicit that information from him presented itself before.
"Well, I avoid the scale here since I'd probably just break it, but at my last doctor visit they said 337 pounds," he said not sounding at all self-conscious about it.
I slid down onto his powerful thighs with my belly resting on his meaty cock and balls and pressed my lips to his magnificent globe shaped paunch as I said, "Then I've got a lot more work ahead of me before I can drag you up on top of me the way you just dragged me on top of you."
"Not a doubt in my mind you'll get there, sport!" he said as he ran his thick fingers through my hair with one hand and gently stroked my beard with his other, "You'll do it!"
That said, he rolled me off him as easy as you please and quickly straddled my hips, resting his sagging balls on my hardening prick as he started feeling me up.
He leaned forward, pressing his lightly but coarsely furred forearms every bit as thick as my upper arms, on my mostly smooth chest and clenched my thick traps in his strong hands.
"I love these! The way they swallow your neck...," he trailed off, "Always have thought that was one of the most manly attributes a guy can have."
I smiled as I ran my hands up his enormous arms to his wide shoulders and gave them the hardest squeeze I could muster.
He feigned a pained grimace as he rolled off and back by my side saying, "Fuck! 305 pounds! No wonder your hands are so calloused!"
I reached over and squeezed his fat dick in one, "Too calloused for comfort?"
He slid a huge paw over mine and smiled as he assured me, "Not at all, sport. You can bet he's a tough enough customer to handle that!"
"You know what I'd like to watch him handle the more I've thought about it?" I queried.
"No, what?"
"That dick hound you were talking about," I goaded him.
His great belly shook with laughter as we snuggled down for some shut eye.
"Let me think on it some more, sport," he admonished, "let me think on it. You never know...I just might go get us one."
And with that he reached out a thick arm and turned off his bed lamp.
(I hope you're enjoying yourself. To be continued as time permits.)