Dad vs Soon to be Dad

Hey, new multi-chapter idea just hit my brain and I need to get it out before I explode. Basically, this is an alternative universe where everyone is smooth, no body hair, just facial hair and there's a biological "force" nobody realizes exists. We have these massive, buff Hunks, the muscle-bound type, and then we have twinks who are smaller but biologically wired to be dominant tops with monstrous, foot-long dicks.

And nobody in this world gets the pattern. They just think it’s random luck when a Hunk turns out to be a bottom or when a twink is packing heat. They start out tight as hell, but the second a massive twink cock is in their face, their biology just glitches. Their body goes from "fortress" to "needy pussy" instantly.

Once they get bred, they’re ruined for good. Their hole turns into a permanent, greedy, gaping mess that leaks cum and just begs for more. They even develop this layer of soft, jiggle-fat over their muscles specifically for taking a pounding, yet they still walk around thinking they're just regular, tough, straight-acting guys. They’re basically purpose-built breeding machines that have no clue what’s happening to them.

Anyway, it's quite long, hope you will enjoy my yapping.

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Before we start: none of this is real, it’s all just my own brain rot and specific fetishes. This is going to be graphic, violent, and heavy on the mind-break stuff. Nothing here is a healthy dynamic, so if you're looking for that, you're in the wrong place. Use it for your goon session and keep it moving.

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Small town. The kind of place where the humidity clings to your skin like a wet wool blanket, and the smell of corn stalks and sulfur from the creek is the only perfume you know.

You ever think back to the stupid shit you did as a kid? The kind of stuff that, looking back, makes you go, "What the fuck was I thinking?" But then again, maybe that’s just how you figure out who you are.

Back in 7th or 8th grade, that was us. My crew and I, we were all in that weird, shitty phase of puberty where bodies were changing faster than our heads could keep up. One day you’re a kid, the next you’re sprouting hair in new places, your voice is cracking, and you’re acting like you own the place.

I wasn’t that guy, though. While my friends were blowing up, getting broad shoulders and thick thighs, I was still the runt. Skinny as a rail, no chest hair, soft features. So, naturally, they started in on me. The "girl" insults, the "weak" jokes. It’s hurt, but I kept my mouth shut. I was angry. 

But here’s the thing, I had a secret. 

Maybe it was a genetic fluke, or maybe my body decided to put all its growing energy into one specific place. I don’t know. All I know is that while the rest of me stayed lanky, that part of me was growing like a weed. A year prior, it was nothing special. Now? It was five inches when soft, heavy, and thick. It felt like my entire purpose for existing was just to haul this thing around.

One sweltering afternoon, we were out in the middle of a cornfield, the heat radiating off the dirt. The buzz of cicadas was so loud it rattled your teeth. The guys were swaggering, talking big, puffing their chests. They were on me again.

I hit my breaking point. I looked them dead in the eye, my heart hammering against my ribs, and said, "You sure you guys are so much more of a man than I am?"

They laughed.

"Scared?" I asked.

I challenged them right there. If I won, they had to shut the fuck up. For good.

We just needed the visual. One of the guys had a crusty, dog-eared Playboy his older brother had tossed. 

They were desperate, fumbling, trying to get hard, trying to manifest masculinity out of thin air. They were red-faced, sweating, straining against their jeans.

And me? I didn't need pictures. I didn't need to try. I stood there, calm, breathing in the smell of the dry earth and the humid air. When it was my turn. Well…

I won. Hands down.

The look on their faces, that mix of shock, confusion, and genuine defeat, was the first time I realized that being "strong" isn't just about how you look on the outside. 

After that, the jokes stopped. Nobody questioned my manhood again. That memory sort of faded into the background, buried under the rest of life. It was the moment I stopped feeling like the guy who gets left behind, and started realizing that I was just operating on a different rhythm. 

And honestly? Knowing I have that kind of potential hidden away? It makes the rest of the confusion I feel these days feel a little more manageable. Like I’m just waiting for the right moment to show the world the rest of what I’ve got.

High school hit and I finally got some height, but I stayed a reed. Skinny. Lean. No matter how much I hit the weights, I just added enough muscle to look healthy, not like a brick wall. But none of that mattered, because somewhere along the way, I landed her.

My wife. She’s something else. Sharp, smart, and gorgeous in a way that still makes my breath catch when she walks into the room wearing her work clothes. We’ve got history, too, the kind that makes you realize you were always meant to end up back here. 

We broke up twice over stupid, meaningless shit, but we always found our way back to each other. We did the college thing, got our degrees, and dragged ourselves back to this town.

Her family’s got money. Old money. They own the chemical plants, the heavy-duty ag supply shops, the whole infrastructure of this valley. When we got married, her old man tossed me the keys to one of their smaller shops. I ran the place with her. It’s a good setup. The town’s gotten bigger, less cow-pasture, more commerce, and our shop is doing solid business. She handles the logistics, keeps the books tight, and I handle the customers. My mouth is the reason I bagged her in the first place, I can talk anyone into anything.

But life isn’t all profit margins and quiet nights at home. I’ve got a massive headache, and his name is Wade Jr. Sterling.

Wade is the guy you love to hate. He’s been in the picture since high school, always lurking. He’s the ex-boyfriend kind of guy. And looking at him, you can see why. He’s got the body, broad, muscular, thick-chested, the kind of guy who looks like he was sculpted for a magazine. But that’s where the appeal ends. His soul is trash.

He’s been trying to ruin me since we were teenagers. Probably because I beat him, not once, not twice, but three times, and ended up marrying the girl he thinks should’ve been his. Now he runs a competitor shop right down the road, and he plays dirty. He’s stealing clients, spreading rumors, doing the backstabbing shit every time I turn my back.

We’ve tried everything. We’ve confronted him face-to-face. We’ve gone to the authorities. Nothing sticks. Why? Because the guy is untouchable. He’s the son-in-law of the mayor. He plays the "golden boy" role perfectly for the town council, even if he’s a hollow shell of a man who wouldn’t know how to run a business without his daddy-in-law’s protection.

Does it piss me off? You bet your ass it does. It makes me want to put my fist through a wall sometimes.

But… business is fine. The money’s coming in, so I keep my head down. I don’t give Wade the satisfaction of seeing me sweat.

And at the moment, Man, I had other things to keep my mind on. My wife is four months pregnant. We’ve got the nursery set up now. Everything is soft, pastels, little toys, a crib that rocks when you touch it. It’s sweet. It’s perfect.

This also came with a problem  that I think all news parents met: I am fucking rock-hard, all day, every day.

I don’t know if it’s the heat or just being around her, but my cock is twitching in my jeans non-stop. It’s like a living thing, heavy and aching, just demanding attention. And I love her too much to push it. I’m not gonna try to get a quickie when she’s carrying our boy. She’s my queen, she’s precious right now, and the last thing I want is to be some selfish prick trying to get off while she’s exhausted.

I haven’t jerked off in a month. I tried, sure, but doing it alone just feels… pathetic. It feels like a chore. I want her skin, her breath, the feeling of her warmth, not my own dry hand. So I just hold it in. I walk around like a guy carrying a live grenade in his pants, just trying to keep my cool.

She knows, obviously. She’s not stupid. She sees the way I’m pacing, the way I tense up when she’s near, the way I’m struggling to keep my eyes off her chest. We had a talk. She looked at me, soft and tired, and told me, "You should to go to the gym. Go run it off. Lift something heavy."

She’s right. I look like a damn vampire anyway, lanky, twitchy. If I don't start burning this sexual frustration into iron, I’m gonna lose my mind.

The heat was oppressive. The kind of sticky, heavy summer air that makes your balls sweat just walking to the car. I dragged myself into that gym like it was a lifeline. That place was a hole in the wall, tucked away in the back of town, one of those “local business” setups that probably opened six months ago and was already forgotten by everyone but the dedicated.

It was quiet. Sparse. A couple of gym rats hitting the rack, a few high schoolers tossing plates around. No girls in sight. Honestly? Thank God. I’m carrying around a permanent half-mast and a mind full of filth, the last thing I need is a woman around to make the frustration worse. I need the burn of iron, not the distraction.

I walked up to the front desk. The kid behind it was a Wilson, one of the younger ones, maybe tenth grade. He was already filling out, broad-shouldered and thick. It’s annoying how easy it comes for some guys.

"Need a membership," I said, leaning on the counter. "What's the setup?"

He gave me the rundown. Standard stuff. Lockers, showers, some yoga classes at a different branch.

"I need a trainer," I cut in. "I’ve been lifting wrong for years. Who's the PT?"

The kid shrugged. "No official PT here. Place is too small, not enough demand. But the owner, he trains here every night. Comes in after six. You could probably just tag along with him. He’s the one who set this place up."

I did the math. My shop closes at five. Eat, clean up, drive over. Six o'clock was perfect. "Sounds like a plan."

The kid walked me through the floor to show me the racks. It was actually solid gear, new plates, good steel, clean mats. I was impressed. If the owner cared this much about the place, maybe he’d actually be a decent training partner. 

Maybe I could finally fix my body. Stop looking like a skeleton and start looking like something that could actually dominate. So I did a payment for 3 months and waited for the guy to come.

"Owner's usually right on time," the kid muttered, glancing toward the door.

The front entrance swung open. The air in the place suddenly felt heavy, charged with something sharp.

I turned around to get a look at the guy I was about to be training with.

My heart hit my stomach.

It was Wade. Wade Jr. Sterling.

The prick. The guy who’s been the thorn in my side since high school. The guy whose existence makes my blood boil. He looked bigger than I remembered, his chest thick, muscles defined under his shirt, carrying that arrogant, easy confidence like he owned the entire town.

The Wilson kid waved. "Hey, Mr. Sterling. This guy was asking about training."

Wade stopped dead. His eyes raked over me, landing on my skinny frame, and a slow, shit-eating grin spread across his face.

"Training?" Wade chuckled, that arrogant tone cutting right through me. "Is that right?"

God dammit. My luck is absolute dogshit.

A chorus of bootlickers started barking from the weight rack.

"Wade! The king is back! Did you take a break from pounding your wife, or what?"

Wade let out a smug, chest-puffing laugh. "Nah. Banging is the easy part, boys. I’ve been buried in work. Haven’t had time to come check on you weaklings. How’s the progress?"

"Waiting for you to show us the ropes, man. Need to get huge so we can get some, right?"

"Haha, hungry for it, huh? If you see anything worth mounting, save some for me."

"Always, man. Always. The chicks at Brenda's shop are practically begging for it the second they see you walk in. Half of them would lay down on the spot."

Wade didn't even try to hide his arrogance. "Hell yeah they would. This cock is the biggest in the county, easy. That’s why my wife couldn't keep her hands off me, look at us, two kids deep. She’s obsessed."

I watched, disgusted. He was preening like a prize rooster, surrounded by guys who were just as pathetic, fawning over his ego and his "gifts." 

One of the idiots started begging him to cut him a deal on his shop rent. It was all so transactional, so sleazy. Just a bunch of small-town losers jerking each other off to feel important.

Then, he turned. His eyes locked onto mine. The grin vanished, replaced by a look of pure, unadulterated contempt. He leaned in, his voice dropping to a low, mocking sneer.

"What are you doing here?"

"I’m here to work out," I said, voice flat. "Or is that too complicated for you?"

Wade stepped into my space, his chest puffed out like he was trying to intimidate me. "Work out? Don't make me laugh. You could lift for a hundred years and you still wouldn't have a single muscle fiber that matches my balls. Get lost. Go back to your little hole and play house."

My grip tightened on the counter. "I paid for a membership, Wade. I'm not here for your charity. You treat all your customers like this?"

"I treat people I don't like however the fuck I want," he spat. "I don't need your pocket change. You're making me nauseous just standing there. Your face ruins my workout."

"Believe me, the feeling is mutual," I shot back. "If I’d known you owned this dump, I wouldn't have stepped foot inside."

Wade let out a sharp, jagged laugh. "Well, now you know. So get the fuck out. Go home, curl up, and cry into your wife’s skirt. Maybe she’ll feel sorry for you."

"Fine," I said, staring him down. "Then refund my three months. If you’re gonna act like a child, give me my money back and I’ll be gone."

Wade snapped his head toward the kid at the desk, his face turning dark.

"Kid, this prick already paid? I told you, you clear it with me before you sign anyone up."

Wade didn’t even look at me again. He just flicked a hand at the kid, annoyed, like I was some stray dog that wandered in. "Whatever, kid. Keep the cash. He’s on his own." He wasn't training me. He wasn't even going to acknowledge I existed unless it was to throw a jab.

Fine. I didn't need his coaching. I needed the weights. And there was no way in hell I was going to let him steal my money and drive me out of there. I planted my feet, walked to the nearest rack, and started my set.

Every night at six, it was the same shit. He’d roll in, and his clique of sycophants would drop whatever they were doing to orbit him. They’d whisper, loud enough to make sure I heard every word. They’d talk about my form, my size, my "wife." They’d crack jokes about how a reed like me couldn’t possibly keep a woman like her satisfied. It was high school trash all over again, just with more testosterone and grunting.

I kept my head down. I focused on the iron. I tuned out the noise, but it was hard not to notice him. You don't ignore a guy like that.

Wade was a physical anomaly. He was built like a truck, pushing near two meters, just pure, dense mass. His thighs were fucking huge, I swear they were as thick as my own waist, and his chest was this wide, armor-plated wall of muscle.

I’d catch myself staring during my rests, and it wasn't a "wish I could be with you" gay shit look. It was pure, burning envy. I hated how easy it looked for him. Every time he squatted, he’d drop deep, and I’d be honestly surprised those short-shorts of his didn’t just detonate under the pressure. It was like watching a bull walk into a china shop and not break anything.

Time passed. Two months in, I was seeing results. My clothes fit tighter, I was pushing more weight, and my frame was filling out. But I was still a wire compared to everyone in the hell hole. And Wade was the landlord of my frustration didn't help. I just wanted to get big enough to stop feeling like I was competing against a brick wall every time I walked through the door.

I just kept lifting. The spite kept me going. I wasn't leaving until the last day of my contract. You could say it was a blur until it wasn't. Like no shit, I didn't see it coming

That day, outside, the sky was tearing itself open. Rain was hammering against the gym windows like gravel, a relentless, deafening static. Usually, this place is crawling with Wade’s pack of brainless clones, but tonight it was just the hum of the AC and the two of us. Empty. Cold. Silent.

My wife hit the six-month mark this week. The check-up went perfect. Everything’s healthy, on schedule, and knowing she’s doing good makes everything else easier to handle. Even Wade.

I was grinding out reps on the bench when he decided to start. He wasn't even lifting, just pacing, eyeing me like I was a piece of meat he wanted to shred. He started with the usual, my build, my lack of mass. I didn't hold back. I’ve got a sharp tongue, and I know how to cut deep when I need to. I gave as good as I got, lacing my words with enough acid to make him flinch.

He stopped laughing. His face hardened, eyes turning flat. He shifted the target.

"I don't get it," he sneered, leaning against the squat rack, invading my space. "How does a guy like you keep a girl like her? You're a skeleton. A reed. She deserves a real man. Someone with actual substance."

"Keep her name out of your mouth," I growled, my heart hammering against my ribs.

He laughed, a low, arrogant sound. "Or what? You're gonna stop me? Give me one night with her, and she’d realize exactly what she's been missing. She wouldn't look at you the same way ever again."

It was so fucking insulting. But beneath the rage, I felt this weird, dark surge of calm. He thought he knew everything. 

He leaned in closer, dropping his voice to a mocking whisper. "You really think you're enough for her? Look at yourself. You're probably built like a girl down there, too. Just a little twig. Probably can't even give her a decent fuck, right?"

The memory hit me like a train. That summer in the cornfields. The challenge. The shock on those kids' faces when they realized the "runt" was carrying the heaviest weight in the room. 

I looked him dead in the eye, my jaw clenched tight.

"You really want to talk about cocks, Wade?" I said, my voice steady, cold. "You want to bet your pride on this? Let's put up or shut up."

Wade let out a sharp, dismissive laugh. "Give it a rest, twig. You're a joke. You pull it out, and the second you see you don't even measure up to my balls, you’re gonna be crawling out of here on your hands and knees."

“Big talk, but have you counted the cost? Don’t let your mouth put your ass in danger.” Calmly talked back from me.

"Scared? Of you?" He scoffed, stepping closer. I could smell the sweat and the arrogance rolling off him. "Show me, then don’t blame me when your mouth gets your ass burned."

"We need stakes," I said, my pulse spiking. This was it. The moment I’d been waiting for since he started breathing down my neck. "If I win, you stop. Forever. No more games, no more lurking, no more bullshit. And since you’re so obsessed with humiliation... if I win, you get on your knees and you suck my cock. Right here."

Wade’s eyes widened, then narrowed into slits of pure malice. He didn't blink. "You're delusional. But fine. You want to humiliate me? It’s never gonna happen. But if I win? If I prove I’m the bigger man? I get to show you exactly why your wife is always going to be wanting more. I get a night with her. While she's carrying your kid."

My blood ran cold for a second, then hit a boiling point. But I knew. I knew exactly what I was packing. 

"Deal," I said.

Wade grinned, that predator grin that had haunted me for years. "You’re an idiot. You really want to do this? Right now?"

"Right now," I said.

I thought he was just bluffing, talking shit to get under my skin. But the guy didn't hesitate. He grabbed the waistband of his gym shorts, hooked his thumbs into his underwear, and yanked.

Rrrrip.

My gut twisted, and for a split second, I actually felt like gagging. He didn't even try to hide it. He just let it all flop out, a messy, hairy heap of flesh. His dick was still soft, maybe four inches on a good day, thick as two fingers, with a foreskin pulled halfway over a dull, wrinkled head. His balls were saggy, heavy, and covered in this wild, patchy thicket of pubic hair that looked like it hadn't seen a groomer in years. It was dark, wrinkled, and honestly, it looked like a swamp creature. He started jerking it right there, flapping it around like he was showing off a prize.

"See that?" he sneered, his eyes drilling into mine. "That's what a real man packs. Now let’s see yours, you fucking shrimp. Unless you’re already crying uncle?"

I felt a bead of sweat roll down my neck. My heart was thumping, mostly from the adrenaline, but also because this was high-stakes bullshit. I hadn't been in a "who’s bigger" contest since I was a brat. But I wasn't backing down. I’d rather die than let this asshole think he’d won.

"You really want to see?" I muttered.

"Pull 'em down, or get on your knees and call your wife, you pathetic fuck," he growled.

I reached for my waistband. My hands were steady. I slid my shorts and briefs down to my mid-thigh, letting the air hit me. It was cold in the gym, but the heat in my blood kept me primed.

As I dropped my gear, I felt the heavy weight of it. Even flaccid, it was substantial. It just kept uncoiling, a smooth, heavy snake of muscle. By the time I’d pulled my pants down far enough, it was already pushing six, maybe seven inches of solid, slack weight. My balls were tight, tucked high and firm, contrasting against the dark blonde, coarse hair on my stomach, a line that cut right down to my cock. It was clean. It was sleek. 

I saw Wade’s eyes drop. His cock, still soft and flapping in his hand, seemed to shrink against the reality of what I was packing. He didn't say a word. He just stared.

Lowkey, the air got thick.

Like the second he clocked the size difference, something flipped in him.

Pupils blown, breathing shifted, whole energy changed.

Bro went from curious to feral in half a heartbeat.

Wade was a freak. He’d gone from flaccid to full-mast in seconds, his cock turning into a thick, pulsing club. It was huge, honestly, purple-headed, veins roping down the shaft like a roadmap, throbbing in his grip. He was slapping it against his palm, that wet, rhythmic thwack-thwack-thwack sound filling the silent, rainy gym. He looked like a fucking statue of aggression, holding his stiff, swollen dick, eyes fixed on me with that shit-eating smirk.

"See that?" he snarled, voice thick with impatience. "That’s what a winner looks like. You scared? Come on, twig, get it up. Let's see what you’re really made of."

My heart was hammering against my ribs, but my dick? It was dead weight. It was like I was holding a piece of cold rubber. The pressure was suffocating. I kept stroking, but the friction just felt hollow. I was so in my head, thinking about the humiliation, the bet, the insane fact that I was standing here in a locker room with the guy who’d made my life a nightmare for years.

"Give me a second," I gritted out. "It doesn't just snap to attention on command."

Wade let out a jagged, frustrated breath. He was jerking himself hard, his balls pulled tight, his face twisted in a mix of rage and raw, horny need. "You’re fucking pathetic. I’m standing here ready to go and you're just limp as a noodle. Hurry the fuck up, man!"

"I'm trying, you prick!"

"You’re trying nothing. You’re stalling because you know you’ve already lost." He stepped closer, his shadow looming over me. He was breathing heavy, his own cock twitching with every pulse of his blood. He looked like he was about to lose his mind waiting for me. "Damn it, I’m gonna go soft just watching you fumble with it. You're ruining the mood."

He hesitated, then his eyes flickered down to my hand, then back up to my face. His expression shifted, something sharper, darker, less about winning and more about pure, visceral curiosity.

"You're struggling," he muttered, his voice dropping an octave. "You're stiff as a board everywhere except where it counts. Hell, maybe you do need a hand. You want me to help you get it up? Just so we can get this over with?"

I froze. "What?"

"I said, do you want me to help? Or are you gonna just stand there and let me win?"

Before I even had a second to process it, he reached out. His hand was actually shaking a little when he grabbed me. I froze. I'd never had another guy touch me there, let alone my worst fucking enemy. 

He cupped my balls in his palm. His hand was massive. Warm and rough with heavy gym calluses. He started massaging my sack, rolling my nuts over his four fingers while his thumb dug in and traced circles around them. The skin down there is sensitive as fuck. The second his rough fingers dragged against my sparse hair, a jolt shot straight up my spine. My sack tightened immediately, pulling my balls up high and firm.

He kept his eyes glued to my crotch. Then he moved up to the shaft. He wrapped his thick fingers around my semi-erect meat and pulled the foreskin all the way down. The head popped out, completely exposed. Like I said, I’m clean. The head is this bright, raw pink, and with the skin pulled tight toward the base, all these little veins bulged out underneath. He stretched the skin as far as it would go, then started to stroke. Slow at first, then picking up the pace.

My cock surged. Sliding in and out of its own sheath. A minute ago, I couldn't get it to wake up to save my life, but the second his hand wrapped around it? It was like someone flipped a switch. The blood rushed in, hot and heavy. My dick swelled, getting thick and rigid, fighting gravity as it curved sharply upward. When I'm fully hard, it points straight up past my belly button, and right now it was twitching violently, trying to stand up in his grip.

Seeing it react, Wade leaned into it. He spit. Three, four thick globs of saliva right onto the head. Then he went to town. Smack, smack, smack. He pumped his fist up and down my shaft, fast and hard. The sound echoed in the empty gym.

I didn't want this. I didn't want him to be the reason I got hard, didn't want him thinking whatever the hell was going through his twisted head. But pure biology took over. I couldn't deny how fucking good it felt. 

He’s a guy. He knows exactly how a cock works.

My cock was fully out, hard as a goddamn rock, and it was a monster. The head was a plump, strawberry-red crown, thick as hell right below the rim, that’s the part that hits the spot, the part that makes my wife lose her mind. The shaft was a solid, deep chocolate brown, veiny as fuck, pulsing with every beat of my heart. It wasn't just big; it was dense, muscular, and had that natural, aggressive hook that curved straight up toward my stomach. It looked like a cannon waiting for a war.

Wade was still jerking himself, but his rhythm was off. He was staring at my dick like he’d seen a ghost. His hand, which was big enough to handle his own gear just fine, was visibly struggling to wrap around the base of my cock. He was squeezing, trying to find a grip, but the girth was too much for him.

I felt the slickness. A glob of pre-cum leaked out of my tip, sliding down the shaft and coating his palm. Squelch.

He didn’t pull away. He just gripped harder, his knuckles whitening, his face turning that weird mix of shock and envy. My dick was so long it was literally bumping against his wrist every time he pumped. It felt like a solid pipe, unyielding, heavy.

I watched the realization hit him. He looked from my rock-hard, throbbing length down to his own dick, then back up at my face. The arrogance was draining out of him, replaced by genuine, teeth-gritting panic. 

"What do you think?" I asked, keeping my voice low, mocking.

He swallowed hard, his eyes flicking from my cock to the floor, then back up, darting everywhere but my face. "It's... it's big. Sure. But let's not call it yet. Let's see who’s got the reach."

"You want to let go?" I said, arching an eyebrow. "You're holding onto it like a lifeline. You enjoying the grip, Wade?"

"Shut up," he snapped, though his voice lacked any real bite. He let go. My cock was throbbing, blood pounding so hard I could feel the pulse right in the head. It looked like a swollen, angry vein of meat, thick and ready.

He reset his stance, breathing heavy. "Face-to-face. Put your cock out, flat against the other. Whoever touches the base with the head wins."

"You're on."

I stood tall, chest out. We stepped into each other's space. It was intense, the kind of proximity that makes your hair stand up. I was staring straight into his chest, big, thick pecs, dark nipples hard as pebbles. He actually looked solid. If he wasn't such a miserable piece of shit, I’d admit he was handsome. He smelled like hot skin and natural male musk, not that fake chemical cologne most guys around here douse themselves in. It was a raw, musky scent that hit me right in the gut.

He was trembling. Just a little. I could see the beard stubble on his jaw twitching. He wouldn't look me in the eye, darting his gaze down to our crotches like he was afraid of what he was going to see.

"Go," he whispered, his voice tighter than usual.

I stood my ground, my cock twitching in the air, the heavy head pulsing.

The second our skin touched, it felt like two freight trains colliding mid-tunnel. Our dicks met, sliding against each other, hot, slick, and rigid as iron pipes. I’ve never felt another man’s heat like that, and I hate to admit it, but the friction sent a jolt of pure electricity straight to my brain. It made my cock pulse even harder, surging with a mind of its own.

Looking down, no way I can lose this. My cock was easily twice as thick as his, thick as a man’s wrist, deep chocolate brown, with those heavy, ropelike veins coiling all the way to the top. His was straighter, paler, and tapered like a wedge. Mine was a beast, bulging in the middle like a club, with that aggressive upward hook that made it look like a pissed-off monster.

I could feel his heart hammering against his ribs, and his breath was coming out in ragged, shaky hitches. The smell of raw, unwashed skin and testosterone was heavy in the air between us, mixing with the humid scent of the rain outside.

I leaned in, pressing my weight forward. My head, swollen, strawberry-red, and dripping, slid right through his forest of hair and hit his pelvic bone. I could feel the wetness of my pre-cum smearing against his skin, slicking the base of his stomach.

I smirked. My head was buried in his hair, touching home. Wade was straining, his face turning a dark, frustrated purple, trying to stretch his cock further, but it wasn't enough. His tip was still inches away from my body, hovering in mid-air, defeated.

The panic in his eyes was priceless. He looked down, seeing his "pride and joy" looking like a toy compared to the heavy, throbbing slab of meat I was pinning against him.

"Touched base," I said, a slow, shark-like grin spreading across my face. "Looks like I’m the winner, Wade."

"Hold on! I’m not all the way there yet. The blood isn’t... it's the cold!" He was grasping at straws, his voice cracking with desperation. He couldn't handle it. 

"Give it up, man," I taunted. "You're already leaking. If you try any harder, you're gonna paint the floor. My dick’s curved and I’m still burying the head in your gut. It’s over."

"Bullshit," he growled. "This isn't scientific. The angle is wrong."

"Accept it. Your ego is the only thing bigger than mine right now, and even that’s taking a hit."

"No. We’re doing this right." Wade grabbed my arm, his grip tight and shaking. He dragged me over to a nearby wooden training table. He fumbled with a drawer and pulled out a yellow tailor’s tape, the kind they use to measure bicep curls and waistlines.

He slapped his dick down on the table. Thud. It was a heavy piece of meat, I’ll give him that. He was sweating now, his breath coming in short, jagged gasps. He pressed the start of the tape hard against his pubic bone, burying it in the hair, and stretched it along the top of his shaft. He was being meticulous, smoothing the tape over every vein, making sure it hit the absolute tip of his crown.

He stared at the numbers. "Seven-point-eight," he muttered, his voice full of a dark, prideful relief. "Seven-point-eight inches. That’s world-class, motherfucker. That’s a king’s size."

He looked up at me, the confidence flickering back into his eyes for a split second. He thought 7.8 was his salvation.

I stepped up to the table. I had to get on my tiptoes to clear the height, short guy problems, a little sting to my pride, but then I flopped my cock down on the wood. Thwack. The sound was heavy, solid.

Wade’s eyes looked like they were going to pop out of his skull. Because of the curve, it wouldn't lay flat, so he had to reach out and actually push it down. His fingers were trembling as they brushed against my skin. The coarse hair on my balls rubbed against his knuckles. He took the yellow tape and started at the base, burying it in my pubic hair, and pulled it tight.

The friction of his hands, the cold wood, the sheer adrenaline, I couldn't help it. I was leaking. Thick, clear drops of pre-cum beaded at my tip and smeared across the table as he moved the tape. I was so wound up from months of no release that I was basically a dripping faucet. Wade didn't even comment on the mess. He was too busy looking at the numbers.

He pulled the tape to the end of my head. It didn't stop at the seven-inch mark. It didn't stop at the eight. It kept going, leaving a massive gap between his best effort and my reality. The tape measure hit a staggering 12.7 inches.

A massive, heavy-duty club of meat that made his "king-size" look like a child's toy.

Wade stood there, frozen. He measured it again. And again. Like he was trying to find a mistake in the math. But the tape doesn't lie. He kept staring at the spot where his dick ended and mine just... kept going. The cocky bastard was gone.

"So?" I leaned back, letting my cock snap back into its natural upward hook the second he let go. "My dick touched you first, and the tape says I’m bigger. What’s the verdict, Wade?"

"It's... it's only a bit more," he stammered, his voice weak.

"A bit? Wade, I’m an entire cup ahead of you." I laughed, and it felt fucking amazing. "You wanted to measure. You wanted the science. Now you got it. Every time you think about my wife, I want you to remember what's actually filling her up. I want you to think about this monster every time you look in the mirror."

His face was pale. He kept blinking, looking at my throbbing, veiny shaft as it twitched on the table.

"Don't go quiet on me now," I sneered. "You made the bet. You set the stakes. You talked all that shit about being the biggest man in town, the 'king' of the county. Well,...'"

"I... I can't," he whispered.

"The fuck you can't. You’re a man of your word, right? Or are you a coward on top of having a small dick? If you don't do it, I’ll make sure every person in this gym, no, town, including your father-in-law the Mayor, knows exactly how you spent your Tuesday night. I’ll tell everyone how you begged to see it, how you helped me get it up, and how you lost."

I stepped closer. "You know the deal. You lost. Get on your knees and show me exactly how much you respect the winner."

Wade hesitated for a second, his ego probably screaming at him to get up and punch me. I stood there, legs braced, stroking my dick right in front of him. I figured he’d back out. I figured he’d throw a tantrum, call me a slur, and kick me out into the rain. I was satisfied enough just knowing I’d gutted his pride with a tape measure.

But then, the bastard actually did it.

Slowly, like his knees were made of lead, he sank down. The sound of his knees hitting the gym floor echoed in the empty room. Now, his face was right there, right at eye level with my crotch. The "King of the Town" was officially at my mercy.

My heart skipped a beat. I wasn't expecting him to actually follow through. "The fuck? You're really doing this?"

Wade looked up at me, his face flushed a deep, angry red. "I lost the bet. Let’s just get this over with. Give me the goddamn thing before I change my mind."

"You’re actually gonna suck it?" I asked, my voice cracking just a tiny bit. I was caught between a massive power trip and total shock. My dick actually shriveled a half-inch just from the sheer weirdness of the moment. 

"Shut up and put it in my mouth," he muttered, his voice shaky but blunt. "Unless you're too scared to let me."

"Scared?" I scoffed, forcing my confidence back up. I grabbed my shaft, which was still leaking that clear, thick nectar, and shoved it closer to his lips. "I ain't scared of shit. You're the one on the floor, Wade. You're the one who’s about to find out exactly how much 'twig' you can handle."

He didn't look me in the eye. He focused on the tip, his breath hot against my skin. I could see the stubble on his chin, the sweat on his forehead. He looked pathetic and intense all at once.

"Do it then," I dared him, my cock jumping in my hand. 

My heart was hammering, a frantic rhythm against my ribs. I shoved my hips forward, offering that thick, heavy slab of meat to his face. Wade didn't hesitate this time. He reached up, his massive hand wrapping around my shaft, pulling the skin back so tight my head looked like it was about to burst. Then he opened wide.

The second he slid my head past his lips, the world went quiet.

God, it was hot. His mouth was this wet, searing cavern of pressure and silk. I felt my sensitive tip hit the ceiling of his mouth, and the sensation was electric. Better than any pussy I’d ever felt. His tongue was a soft, muscular cushion underneath me, and his lips formed a tight, hungry seal around my rim.

He just held me there for a second. Frozen. I stood over him, my pulse throbbing right against the roof of his mouth. I could feel his hot, ragged breath venting out of his nose, heating up my balls and the base of my dick. It was a total head trip, the most arrogant prick in town, the guy who treated me like dirt, was currently strapped on my pride.

I looked down at the top of his head, feeling the power surge through me. "Don't just stay there," I rasped, my voice thick with lust. "I didn't tell you to hold it. I told you to suck it. Mop it up, you loser."

Wade looked up, his eyes wide and dark, my dick stretching his cheeks out. "Mmgh?" he mumbled, the sound vibrating through my shaft.

"You heard me," I growled, my hand finding its way into his hair, gripping tight. "You’re on your knees. Act like you belong there. Put that mouth to work. Suck it like you’ve been dreaming about it, you pathetic dog."

That seemed to trigger something in him. He closed his eyes and started to move. He pulled back until he was off the head, then lunged forward, swallowing me deep. Slurp. Pop. Squelch.

The sound of his spit and the suction were driving me insane. He was rhythmic, fast, and desperate. Every time he pulled back, the vacuum pressure nearly made my knees buckle. My pre-cum was leaking out in thick, slick ribbons, and he was taking every drop, his throat working to keep up with the size of me.

"Yeah... just like… that, shit!" I groaned, throwing my head back as the rain continued to roar outside. "You're a natural, aren't you? Born to be a cock-warmer. Look at you?"

He just kept pumping his head back and forth, his cheeks hollowing out with every frantic pull. I was losing my mind, my hips twitching, my dicked-up brain loving every second of his humiliation. He was a professional. He knew exactly where the sensitive spots were, swirling his tongue around the rim, sucking the underside of the head until I was seeing stars.

"God! You're a dirty fucker, Wade," I spat, watching him work. "I bet you've wanted like a fag you are. All that bullying just to hide the fact that you wanted a big cock in your throat."

Wade was just there, silent and heavy, his massive jock frame folded onto the gym floor. Seeing a guy that built, that "alpha," reduced to a cock-warmer for my monster meat was the ultimate high. 

"Look at you," I sneered, looking down at his broad shoulders. "Maybe this is your real calling. Keeping mouths shut with twelve inches of solid muscle."

I was reliving every insult, every dirty trick he’d ever played on me. I wanted him to feel the weight of his defeat. I reached down, grabbed his hair, and yanked my cock out of his mouth with a wet pop.

He stayed there, eyes half closed, face flushed, looking like a dazed bitch. I took my shaft, rigid, pulsing, and dripping, and started slapping it across his face. 

Thwack. Thwack. 

I treated my dick like a club, lashing it against his cheeks and his forehead. I was marking him, letting him know that no matter how big he got at the gym, he’d always be smaller than me where it mattered.

He didn't even fight back. He just took it, breathing hard, his chest heaving under his shirt. Like he tried to smell my shit everytime I hit it on his face.

Then, he moved. He lunged. He knocked my hands out and grabbed my shaft with both hands and shoved the head back into his mouth, deeper than before. He was aggressive now, like he was trying to swallow the whole thing to prove he wasn't weak. He took it all the way to the hilt, burying his nose in my pubic hair, his throat muscles clamping down on me like a vice.

"Agggh! Slow down, you fucker!" I barked, my knees nearly giving out.

He was relentless. He was sucking me like he was starving, his tongue swirling around the head while his throat worked to accommodate every inch. It was intense. He was vacuuming the life out of me, his cheeks hollowing out as he tried to devour me. I could feel his spit slicking up the whole length, turning my dick into a wet, sliding piston in his mouth.

"Fuck, Wade... you're gonna make me blow," I groaned, my hands clenching in his hair, pulling him even deeper. He was gagging, his eyes watering. He was obsessed with it, working that huge slab of meat like a pro, making me see stars in the middle of a cold, rainy gym. “STTOPP!!!”

He was like possessed. His tongue was a weapon, darting and swirling, lapping at the head before he’d pull back with a wet pop and then lunge forward again, swallowing me whole. My brain was short-circuiting. 

This was a goddamn performance. 

I shoved him back, needing a second to breathe. "The fuck was that?" I panted, my dick twitching, slick with his spit.

He looked up at me from the floor, his mouth slick, his eyes glassy and unfocused like a junkie needing a fix. "What?"

"Don't play dumb," I snapped. I started to bend down to pull up my shorts, needing to put a barrier between us before I did something stupid. But he lurched forward, grabbing for my cock again like he couldn't stop himself.

I reacted instinctively, shoving him hard. He fell back on his ass, looking dazed, like he’d just woken up from a trance. He knew he'd crossed a line.

"What the hell are you doing?" I barked, my voice shaking a little.

"Nothing! I was just... finishing the job," he stammered, scrambling to sound tough.

"I said we were done," I shot back. "Or did my dick in your throat make you deaf?"

"I didn't hear you!"

"Bullshit. You didn't want to hear me. You were loving that shit, weren't you?" The question hung in the air, heavy and raw. "You're gay, aren't you, Wade?"

"Gay?!" He spat the word out like it was poison. "Fuck you! I've got a wife! Two kids! Don't you dare say that shit to me."

He was protesting too much. And I couldn’t deny it, as much as I hated him, that mouth of his was a goddamn gift. It was the best head I’d ever had. I looked around the empty gym. The rain was still hammering down. No one was here. No one would ever know. My dick was throbbing, aching with a need that had been building for months. And this asshole... he looked like he was starving. We were both married men, "straight" as arrows, but the air between us was thick with something else entirely.

Pride is a funny thing. It’ll make you do stupid shit. But so will being horny as fuck.

I took a deep breath. "Hey. Asshole."

"What?" he mumbled, still on the floor.

"Did you... like it?"

He hesitated, his eyes darting away. "It was... weird."

"That's not what I asked," I pressed. "Did you like it? Yes or no."

A long, tense silence. Then, barely a whisper. "...Yeah."

"Good," I said, a slow, predatory grin spreading across my face. "Because I did too. You wanna try something... else? Something better?"

His eyes shot up to mine, full of confusion and a flicker of something that looked a lot like hope. "What do you mean?"

"You know what I mean," I said, my voice dropping low. "Don't make me spell it out."

"Just say it."

"Fine. Touching. Kissing. Seeing what happens when two guys who hate each other's guts are horny as hell and trapped in a gym during a thunderstorm." I took a step closer, my shadow falling over him. "I won the bet, Wade. That means I call the shots."

Wade didn’t answer right away. He just stared up at me, throat working like he was trying to swallow something stuck there. The cocky smirk he usually wore was gone, what was left looked almost… nervous. 

I reached down, grabbed the front of his tank by the strap, and pulled him forward. Our faces ended up maybe six inches apart.

“Relax,” I muttered. “You’re shaking like a virgin on prom night.”

“Fuck you,” he shot back, but there was no heat in it. His voice cracked on the last word.

Saying those words out loud had made my own face burn. I’d never done this with a guy, never even thought about it seriously until tonight. My pulse was slamming in my ears, but I wasn’t backing down now.

I tugged him upright off the floor until he was standing again. Then I pushed him back down a bench so he sat, legs spread wide. I stayed standing between his knees, looking down at him.

He still looked huge even sitting, just… less untouchable. The usual arrogance had cracked open, replaced by this raw, jittery energy. Wide eyes, flushed neck, lips parted like he didn’t know whether to curse me out or beg.

My heart was hammering a hole in my chest. This was territory I’d never crossed. Touching a guy like this? It was surreal. I reached out, my hand trembling just a bit, and threaded my fingers into the hair at the base of his skull. I yanked his head back, forcing him to look up at me.

With my other hand, I let my palm slide over his chest. 

Fuck, he was solid. 

His pecs were like two armor-plated slabs of granite, thick and heavy. It wasn't soft like a girl’s, it was dense, masculine muscle. I traced the deep valley between them, feeling the heat radiating off his skin. He let out a low, ragged hitch in his breath, his chest heaving under my touch. And most to my surprise, he was leaning into it.

Down below, I didn't know since when but his hand was clamped around my shaft, his calloused thumb moving in slow, rhythmic circles against my rim. He was working me, keeping me rock-hard.

I looked down at him. The overhead gym lights hit his face, highlighting every detail. His lips were swollen, puffy and red from trying to take all twelve inches of me. There was a faint, glistening smear of spit and pre-cum on the corner of his mouth, trailing down his chin. Not gonna lie, that looked delicious.

My head started to drop.

‘Don't do it,’ a voice in the back of my mind screamed. ‘You’ve got a wife. She’s at home, carrying your son. If she sees this, it’s over.’

I was tearing myself apart. I’m a straight guy. I love my wife. But standing here, in the middle of a thunderstorm, with my rival kneeling at my feet and his lips looking like that? 

Shit, all that cum was invading my mind at that moment.

The conflict was a goddamn war zone in my head. I wanted to taste him. I wanted to see if his mouth tasted as good as it felt. 

His lips parted just a fraction, his breath hot and smelling like ‘me’. I was inches away. My heart was a drum. I was one second away from either walking out into the rain or ruining everything I’d built.

Wade’s thumb was working my tip, circling the slit, sending white-hot jolts straight to my gut. My head was pounding. Every nerve in that slab of meat was screaming for a release I hadn’t had in months. My mind was a mess.

BUT!

She wasn’t here. No one was here. Just the rain and this mountain of muscle kneeling down my legs.

So I stopped overthink it. I leaned down, my shadow swallowing him, and smashed my mouth against his.

The second our lips hit, the world went up in flames. It was rough, desperate, and tasted like raw heat. His stubble was like sandpaper against mine, a prickly, masculine friction I’d never felt before. 

No perfume, no lip gloss, just the smell of a man, salt, and the faint metallic tang of the gym (oh yea, and my cock). Our tongues collided, battling for space, and I felt a surge of pure, unadulterated power. This was the guy who hated me, and here we were, inhaling each other like air.

We broke apart with a wet smack, a string of spit stretching between us. Wade looked dazed, his pupils blown wide, his chest heaving under my hand. He actually swallowed, tasting the mix of our spit and the pre-cum on his own lips. He looked like he’d been hit by a truck.

"What now, asshole?" I growled, my voice vibrating deep in my chest.

"What... what do you mean?" he stammered.

"You know exactly what I mean. Don't play dumb," I said, my hand sliding from his hair down to his thick, armored chest. I squeezed his pec, feeling the rock-hard muscle under his shirt. "You’ve been teasing me for twenty minutes. I haven’t had a real fuck since my wife started showing. I’m backed up, I’m horny as hell, and you’re the only thing in this gym built to handle it."

I looked down at my dick, which was twitching and pulsing, dark and heavy against his palm. "You're gonna replace her tonight, Wade. You ready to be a man of your word, or are you gonna keep acting like a bitch with a small dick?"

Wade’s eyes dropped to my cock. He looked terrified, but I saw his throat move as he swallowed again.

"You're a pathetic bitch, Wade. You know that?" I sneered, looking down at him. "All that talk about being a man, but you’re stalling. I can see your eyes, man. You’re starving for this. Stop lying to yourself and just say it."

"I’m not... I’m just..." He couldn't even finish a sentence.

"Winner takes all. Loser gets used. That was the deal," I said, reaching down to grab the hem of my t-shirt. I pulled it over my head and tossed it into the shadows. 

Two months of hitting the iron had done me good, my stomach was tight, lean, with a dark trail of hair leading straight down into the chaos between my legs. It was ironic as hell. I’d spent all this time training to look like a man for my wife, and here I was, stripping down for the guy who’d been trying to ruin my life.

Wade’s eyes were glued to me. He reached out, his hand shaking, and grabbed my balls again, squeezing like he was checking the weight. I didn't stop him. I reached for his shirt, hooking my fingers in the collar. "Get this shit off. I want to see what a loser looks like."

I slid my hand back up, fingers circling his nipple again, pinching just enough to make it harden under my thumb. Wade let out this low, hungry sound that shot straight to my dick. I grinned, dirty, shameless, and tugged his shirt higher, peeling it up over his head in one slow pull.

Fuck. There he was.

His body hit different up close like this. Every line carved sharp: pecs full and squared off, abs stacked tight like they were built for show and for fucking. Not some gym-bro bulk, it was lean, cut, but still thick where it counted. Smooth skin, pale gold under the dim lamp, glowing almost, no hair anywhere to break it up. Just pure, clean planes of muscle rolling under that satin finish. His chest was the real killer though, round, heavy pecs that bounced a little when he breathed hard, nipples dark pink and puffy now from my teasing.

They looked fat and suckable, begging for a mouth. Below that, his torso tapered but stayed plush in the right spots: soft enough around the sides that you could grab handfuls, meaty enough that every thrust would feel cushioned and deep.

I ran both palms flat over him, feeling the heat pouring off his skin. Solid. Warm. Yielding just a fraction when I pressed harder, like ripe fruit under the surface. No sharp bones jabbing out, just smooth curves over hard core. My thumbs dragged down the center of his chest, tracing the shallow valley between those full tits, then out to the sides where the muscle swelled thick and juicy. He was built like he was made to be ridden, fucked into, fed on. Every inch looked edible, fuckable, ready to give.

The arrogant prick wasn't even pretending anymore. The "bet" was just an excuse now. He wanted it. He lunged forward, his mouth falling open as he swallowed my head again. Squelch.

I let out a ragged groan, my fingers digging into his thick, meaty shoulders. "Yeah... just like that. Use that mouth, Wade. You're a natural-born slut, aren't you?"

He didn't pull away. He hummed against my shaft, the vibration traveling straight to my balls. "Mmmph... it’s... it's so big," he mumbled, his voice muffled by my meat. He pulled back, a string of spit connecting my tip to his bottom lip. "I’ve never seen one like this. It’s like a goddamn pipe. I can't stop tasting it."

"You like it, don't you? Tastes better than your wife, I bet." I laughed, a dark, jagged sound. "All those years of bullying me, and all you really wanted was to find out how a real cock felt in your throat. You’re a closeted little fag, Wade."

"Shut up," he rasped, but he didn't stop. He went deeper, his nose buried in my hair, his throat clicking as he tried to take the whole twelve inches. "I’ve only ever done girls... but this... this is different. It’s so fucking thick."

"Keep going," I barked, thrusting my hips forward, forcing him to gag. "Work for it. You think a monster like this just takes itself? Suck it until you choke, until you forget you ever thought you were better than me."

He was obsessed. He started swirling his tongue around the head, sucking the underside where it was most sensitive, his massive hands roaming up my thighs and grabbing my ass. He was vacuuming me, his cheeks hollowing out as he tried to drain me dry.

"God, Wade... your mouth is a goddamn furnace," I gasped, seeing stars. "I should’ve made you do this years ago. You’re better at this than any girl in this town. Keep sucking, you pathetic fuck. Don't you dare stop until I tell you."

The sound of his mouth working my cock filled the gym. 

Slurp. Pop. Squelch. 

He was a machine, pulling me deep into his throat until I could feel the muscles contracting at the head, then sliding back to lave it with his tongue. The rough scrape of his stubble against my sensitive skin was sending sparks straight to my balls.

I thinks he enjoyed every second. Eyes closed, a look of pure, animal satisfaction on his face as he serviced me. His massive hands were roaming. It was sending shivers all over my body. 

He shifted, wrapping his arms around my waist, pressing his face into my crotch, lapping at my dick and balls like a starving dog.

The way he was kneeling on the bench, his ass was just... presented. A perfect, high, tight offering. I'd never paid much attention to a guy's ass before, but holy shit. Wade's was built to wreck someone. Two thick, rounded globes, so firm they looked carved from marble but still had that juicy bounce when he rocked forward to take me deeper. 

The dim gym light slid over the curves, catching the smooth, flawless skin, no hair, no blemish, just pale gold stretched tight over dense muscle. The cleft between them was deep and shadowed, a dark promise pulling my eyes right to the center. Every clench made those cheeks flex and separate just enough to tease the tight pink pucker hidden in there. 

It looked plump, full. I wanted to grab it, spread it wide, shove my face in and tongue-fuck that virgin hole until he was dripping and begging. My dick jumped in his throat at the thought. 

He kept sucking, his ass lifting higher with every desperate gulp. I couldn't resist. I leaned forward, my fingers tracing the line of his spine, feeling the knobs of his spine under his smooth skin. My hand kept moving south, over the small of his back, until my palm was resting on the top of his left cheek.

Fuck. 

It was even better than I imagined. The skin was butter-smooth, cool at first but heating up fast under my touch, like it was waiting for hands. Underneath, the muscle was packed solid, rock-hard glutes that didn't give an inch when I squeezed, yet the flesh had this lush, meaty give that made my fingers sink in just enough to feel the power coiled there. Heavy, rounded perfection, full and ripe like they were loaded for pounding. 

I spread my hand wide, trying to cover as much as I could, kneading deep into the thick meat, feeling it flex and bounce back against my palm. My other hand joined, gripping both cheeks now, spreading them slow, watching the cleft open wider. The skin pulled taut. My thumbs dragged along the inner curves, brushing closer, feeling the heat radiating from his core. 

He let out a low, guttural moan into my shaft, and I knew he was feeling it. I dragged my fingers down, into the deep, warm crack. It got hotter the deeper I went. I was exploring blind, just going by touch, my dick getting rammed deeper down his throat as I reached further back.

And then I found it.

My middle finger brushed against a tight, puckered knot of flesh. It was perfect. A small, tight pucker, completely hairless, like the center of a flower. I pressed lightly, and the muscles clenched reflexively, shutting tight. I tried to push, just the tip of my finger, but it wouldn't give. There was no way. This was a virgin hole. Untouched. Unclaimed.

A savage kind of need, dark and possessive, ripped through me. All the lust, all the anger, all the years of resentment, it all focused on this one perfect, untouched spot. Wade, the big man on campus, the alpha prick who thought he owned the world, was a complete virgin back here.

And I was going to be the first one. Tonight.

I was teasing him, my finger just circling the outside of his hole, feeling the tight pucker clench with every touch. He was shuddering, a deep tremor running through his massive frame, but he kept sucking like his life depended on it. I ran my hand up his sweaty back and into his hair, gripping a handful.

"Easy there," I murmured, my voice a low rumble. "Don't get ahead of yourself. We still have lots of time."

He pulled back, his mouth leaving my dick with a wet pop. His face was flushed, his eyes glazed over. "Then what?"

"You're acting like a fucking rookie."

"I... I haven't gotten off like this in forever," he admitted, his voice rough.

I laughed, a dark, smug sound. "What, your wife not putting out?"

He made a face like he’d just swallowed something sour. "No… She puts out. Too much. But... after the kids... it's just not the same. It's ruined. Smells different. She wants me to go down on her and I swear to god, I almost puke every time."

The irony. The town stud, the guy who acted like he had the perfect life, was stuck with a pussy he couldn't stand. "Damn, that's rough," I said, my voice dripping with fake sympathy. "Guess that swampy mess can't compete with twelve inches of clean, Grade-A meat, huh? No wonder you were sucking it like a popsicle."

His eyes dropped to my cock, which was still twitching, slick with his spit. "It's... good," he whispered, like it was a confession. "Just... let me have a little more."

"Oh, we're not done," I said, my grin turning predatory. "But we're upgrading. You want to feel something really good?"

"What do you mean?"

I let my hand slide from his back, down to the top of his ass, pressing my palm flat against one perfect, round cheek. "Ever had a cock up your ass, Wade?"

Panic flared in his eyes. He recoiled like I'd slapped him. "What? No! Fuck no. I can't... I've never... I'm not gay!"

"I didn't ask if you were gay," I said, my voice cold and hard. "I asked if you've ever been fucked. You liked my mouth, didn't you? You liked my dick. Don't tell me you aren't curious."

"No! The bet was just... you said get on my knees!" he stammered, scrambling for an excuse.

I laughed. "The bet was that the winner gets to humiliate the loser. And I'm upgrading it." I squeezed his ass cheek, hard. "I make the rules now. And I'm horny as fuck."

"But... we didn't say that!"

"I'M SAYING IT NOW," I roared, the sound echoing in the empty gym. "I want to fuck you. I want to feel that tight little virgin hole of yours wrapped around my dick. And you're going to let me. Now stop acting like a bitch and give me what I won."

His body went rigid under my touch. 

"I... I'm begging you," he whispered, his voice shaking. "Sucking your dick... that was humiliating enough. Just... let me go. I can't do this. It's gonna hurt. I'm... I'm married. This feels... wrong."

Wrong? I almost laughed in his face. "Wrong? You wanna talk about wrong? How about trying to ruin my business for the last whole years? How about spreading lies about my wife? Don't you dare talk to me about what's right and wrong." I squeezed his ass again, hard, digging my fingers into the dense muscle. "I don't give a flying fuck if you're a husband. I don't care if you're the pope."

"It's too small!" he pleaded, panic making his voice high and thin. "It won't fit! Your dick is a fucking monster, it barely fit down my throat! You're gonna rip me in half!"

"I saw how that throat took every inch like a champ. Don't act like your ass can't learn to do the same." I snarled, my patience gone. "Now, I can go slow and slick it up nice... or I can make it hurt. Your choice. But either way, I'm balls-deep tonight."

I didn't wait for another excuse. I moved behind him, straddling the end of the bench. He was still perched there, his ass presented perfectly, a perfect offering. I spread his cheeks wide, and the sight… shit, 12/10!

A tight, pink, hairless pucker. It looked clean. It looked untouched. It looked like it was made to be ruined. The sheer, unexpected beauty of it sent a jolt of pure, predatory lust through me.

He flinched when he felt my hot breath against his skin. "What... what are you doing?"

"Shut up and enjoy it," I mumbled, then I dove in.

I licked him. My tongue traced the tight ring of his hole, tasting the salt and musk of his skin. It was different from my wife, wilder, more animal. It tasted like pure, unadulterated need. He let out a choked gasp, his whole body seizing up. I ignored him, lapping at him like a dog, drenching his tight hole in my spit. But he was still clenched tight.

The guy was terrified. 

Fine. 

If force wasn't working, I'd try something else.

I softened my touch. I kissed the smooth skin of his inner cheeks, my tongue flicking lightly against the entrance. My hands came up, massaging the base of his spine, working the tight knots of muscle with my thumbs. I moved slow, gentle, like I was coaxing a spooked animal. I whispered against his skin, telling him how good it was going to feel, how tight he was, how much I wanted to stretch him open.

Slowly, under the patient work of my mouth and hands, I felt the change. The rigid wall of muscle started to soften. The tension drained out of him. He let out a low, shuddering sigh, and I felt the tight ring of his ass give, just a little.

I kept kissing him, teasing him, my tongue flicking against the tight pucker of his ass. This was a slow, deliberate conquest, and he would be going to enjoy every second of it. 

Gosh! I took a moment out for a breath. From this angle, his ass was a masterpiece. Two perfect, round globes of muscle with a virgin hole nestled right in the middle. It was one of the most perversely beautiful thing I’d ever seen, just like the first time of me and my wife.

"Hey, man," I growled against his ass, voice thick with spit and hunger.  

"Hnngh?"  

"Just... fuck, you got a fat fuckin' ass."  

He tensed hard, shoulders locking up like I'd slapped him. "The hell? Don't say shit like that, dude."  

"It's good," I said, dragging my tongue slow and sloppy right up his crack. "Real fuckin' good. Makes me wanna bury my face in it and never come up."  

"You...?" he muttered, voice all defensive and pissed off at the same time.  

"Yeah, I'm serious. Shame your boring-ass wife gets to sit on this every night when it was clearly built for a real man's cock." I spread his cheeks wider with both hands, staring at that tight pink hole. Fingers tapped on that sweat knot of meat. "This thing needs to get wrecked. Stretched. Fucked raw until you’re limping out of here like a bitch."  

My voice dropped lower. "Bet it’s gonna feel like heaven choking my dick."  

"It feels fucking weird, okay?" he snapped, still trying to sound straight and tough even while his hole twitched under me. "Two married guys… this is gay as shit."  

"Oh, cut the bullshit, Wade," I laughed, hot breath blasting right against his hole. "I see you, man. Your dick’s rock-hard and leaking, your ass is pushing back on me like it’s starving."  

He went quiet, but I could feel his heart slamming like a drum.  

"It’s okay," I snarled, still licking slow circles. "Your brain’s screaming ‘I’m not gay,’ but your hole already knows the truth." I said, biting the meat of his ass hard enough to make him jerk. "Last chance. You wanna keep pretending or you wanna feel this fat cock split you open? Decide quick."  

Long silence. Then, barely audible and still trying to sound tough:  

"…Fine. But I swear to God if it hurts too much I’m tapping out."  

"Relax," I grinned, already lining my cock up. "You’re gonna take every inch tonight. With my special care!" 

So… I didn't wait for another word. I took his whole ass in my mouth, sucking hard, my tongue plunging into his tight, virgin hole. He cried out, a sharp, choked gasp of pure shock and pleasure.

"Ah... ah... fuck... Leon," he moaned, his body going limp under my touch. "Holy shit... what are you doing to me?"

His defenses shattered. He was just pure sensation now, writhing on the bench as I devoured him. The sound of my mouth on his hole was obscene, wet, sloppy, greedy. I kept going, harder now, my hands gripping his ass cheeks, squeezing and slapping them until they were flushed a deep, angry red, my handprints stark against his pale skin.

"Ugh... Leon... you're... you're making my hole feel so good," he gasped, his voice thick with a pleasure he never knew existed. "I never... I never knew it could feel like this..."

My tongue was a relentless drill, stabbing and swirling, trying to force its way inside him. He was bucking against my face now, his moans getting louder, more desperate.

"Mmmph... yes... more... don't stop," he begged.

I kept devouring him, my free hand reaching around to stroke his twitching cock and play with his heavy balls. It was working. The tight ring of his ass was finally yielding, softening under the relentless assault of my tongue. I could feel the tension breaking. It was time.

I pulled my fingers back and popped two of them into my own mouth, sucking them until they were dripping with thick strands of spit. I reached down, dragging those wet fingers over the tight pucker, tracing the folds one last time before pressing in.

Fuck!

It was tight. Unbelievably tight. Just one finger in, and it felt like his body was trying to crush it. The heat inside him was searing, the muscles clamping down in a desperate, virgin reflex to keep me out. I didn't push. I just held my finger there, letting him adjust, spitting more saliva onto my hand and his hole to slick it up. 

If I rushed this and hurt him, the whole fantasy was over.

Slowly, as the tight band of muscle relaxed, I slid a second finger in. The feeling of being buried in him, feeling the hot, wet velvet of his insides gripping me... it was driving me insane. I wanted my cock in there so bad I was shaking. I started to move, slow at first, then picking up speed, mixing the steady pump of my fingers with loud, wet slurps and sharp slaps to his thighs.

"Ugh... ah... fuck, that feels... it tickles, but it's... ah! You're making my whole ass itch for it," Wade groaned, his voice rough and breathy.

"Put your ass up higher," I demanded. "I'm gonna show you something."

He didn't have a clue what I had coming next, but he still arched that fat ass up higher, cheeks spreading a little more, like he was begging without words. I grinned to myself and unleashed my go-to move. Because I had found a spot.

Pressed my palm flat into that deep, sweaty cleft for leverage, then started jerking my finger inside his hole, quick flicks up against the walls, hitting that spot that made everything clench and quiver.

His pucker shook with every thrust, rippling around my knuckle like it was alive, sucking me in tighter. Whatever the fuck was buried in there, soft ridges, hot pulp, I just wanted to wreck it, churn it up until it was a sloppy mess. I twisted my finger in tight circles, stirring deep, feeling the slick heat build, those inner muscles gripping and sliding like warm velvet on fire. 

Then I shoved a second finger in, scissoring them wide, using both hands now to yank those plump cheeks apart, stretching the ring to its limit. Pulled it open left and right, watching the pink hole gape, the rim thinning out like a stretched rubber band, elastic and snapping back just enough to tease. I hawked up spit after spit, letting it drip straight into the opening, thick, bubbly strings coating everything, making it glisten and slide easier, loosening him up fast so I could dig deeper without resistance.

Wade took it like a champ, though, arching his back even more, moaning low and filthy, these guttural whimpers turning into full-on porn-star yells as I hooked harder. "Fuck... oh shit..." He clawed at the gym bench, knuckles white, ass pushing back against my hand like he couldn't get enough of the burn. By the time I finally eased off and pulled my fingers free with a wet pop, his hole was wrecked in the best way, gaping open just a bit, that tight ring puffed and loose, letting me peek straight into the rosy, twitching depths, all slick folds pulsing and begging for more.

He collapsed forward, panting hard. "Ah... ah... fuck... what were you doing? You just stretched me out..."

"I'm turning that virgin ass into a pussy, Wade," I whispered.

"Ah... ah... I don't have a pussy!" he gasped. "What did you do? It's still twitching... but..."

"But what?"

"Can you... can you do that again? I swear to god I just saw stars!"

"I can do better than that," I purred, trailing my spit-slicked fingers down his crack. "But if you want to see stars again, you're gonna need a bigger tool."

"Leon, I'm terrified," he pleaded, twisting around to look at me. "I'll do anything. Call my ass a pussy. I'll suck your dick, you eat my ass... just use it like a pussy, but please, I'm begging you, don't put that monster in me!"

"Hahaha, you're lying to yourself, man," I laughed, a low, arrogant sound. "You've got twelve inches of prime meat begging for a home, and you're telling me you don't want it?"

"Say whatever you want. Humiliate me. Just don't fuck me!"

"Keep begging like that and I might actually believe you mean it." I dove back in harder, relentless until his fake protests turned into broken, needy whimpers. His hips started rocking back on their own, chasing my mouth, his big body shaking like he was coming apart.

Ten minutes. That’s all it took.

He now was quite literally a trembling, drooling mess on the bench. 

I pulled my fingers out slow, wiped them on his thigh, and leaned back with a smirk. “So… you change your mind yet, Wade? Hm?”

His voice cracked, raw and desperate. “Yes… fuck… anything… just fuck me already.”

“Nah, I don’t want it anymore,” I said, still grinning as I sat back. “Let’s see if you can beg for it nice and pretty.”

“What the fuck more do you want?!” he snapped, pure frustration pouring out. “I finally say yes and you’re still making me jump through hoops like some bitch?”

“I like it when you jump,” I grinned. “Pisses you off real good, doesn’t it?”

“You motherfucker… If you didn’t have that goddamn huge cock I’d get up and break your jaw right now!”

“You’re not breaking shit, tough guy,” I laughed.

Seeing him like this, broken, dripping, and straight-up desperate, hit different. I knew he was one second from losing it, but I wasn’t handing it over yet. Not after all the years of bullshit he’d thrown at me. I wanted to make him stew in it, make him feel every filthy second of how bad he needed this.

I took my cock, still heavy and slick with his spit, and started dragging the head along the cleft of his ass. I didn't go in. I just teased the rim, sliding the wet crown back and forth over that tight, pulsing pucker. Every time I brushed against it, his whole body bucked.

"Fuck, Leon! Stop it!" he barked, his voice cracking. "You know I'm losing my mind here. Just put it in. Please!"

"What's the matter, Wade?" I chuckled, a dark, jagged sound. "You've been acting like a prick for years. I think I can take my time. I want to see how long you can last before you start crying."

"You're a sadistic fuck!"

"Maybe. But I'm the one with the monster and you're the one with the hungry pussy." I took my shaft and slapped it hard across his ass cheek. CRACK. The sound was loud in the empty gym, and his skin instantly flared red.

"Ugh... ah... shit, Leon! Don't do that... Please, just... just fuck me!"

"You want it that bad?" I teased, dragging the slick head around his hole again, watching it clench and flutter like it was trying to suck me in. "Look at that desperate little pussy, virgin and already leaking for dick like a bitch in heat. Fucking pathetic."

He stiffened, pride flashing in his eyes, but his hips still twitched toward me.

"Pathetic?" he spat, voice shaky.

"Yeah. Pathetic." I pulled back completely, wrapped my fist around my shaft and started slow, lazy strokes right in front of his face. "Guess I'll just nut on your back then. You can crawl home to your swamp-ass wife with my load drying on you."

"Wait… fuck… no…" His forehead hit the bench hard, breath ragged. "Don't stop. Please. My pussy's throbbing so bad I can't… fuck… just shove it in already."

I pressed the tip back against him, letting him feel the weight. "Beg nicer. Tell me how bad that tight, untouched pussy needs to get wrecked."

He broke fast. "Please… fuck… my pussy's dying for it. Empty, aching, never had anything real. Ram that fat cock in and split me. Ruin my virgin pussy, I don't give a shit anymore… just use it. Please."

"There is it, good bitch" I growled.

"You got lube here, right?" I asked, my voice a low, jagged rasp. Of course the bastard did. A guy like Wade wouldn't be caught dead without his premium shit, even at the gym.

He pointed toward the wooden table where we’d just measured our cocks. I grabbed the bottle hid inside the bottom drawer, some high-end, expensive silicone stuff. Wade only used the best, and tonight, he was going to find out exactly if it was worth the price tag when it was his own virgin ass-pussy on the line.

I popped the cap and slathered a thick, cold glob onto the head of my cock. Then I grabbed Wade’s hips, shoved the nozzle of the bottle against his tight pucker, and pumped a massive load of it straight inside. He flinched, his hole clenching around the plastic tip.

"Alright, 12 inches coming in," I growled. "Hold still."

I lined up the head of my monster meat with his hungry, trembling hole and gave it a heavy, deliberate shove.

shit...

Even with the lube, his hole was a goddamn vice. It didn't want to let me in. The skin was stretched to the absolute limit, the rim of his ass turning white as my head tried to force its way through. I could feel the ridiculous pressure.

"A-Agh! Fuck! Stop! It hurts, Leon!" Wade screamed "You're gonna rip me open!"

Hearing him scream didn't make me want to go slow. It made me want to bury the whole twelve inches in him just to hear him break. 

"Shut the fuck up," I spat, my voice dropping to a predatory whisper. "You're nothing but a pussy for me tonight. Take it like a good little slut."

"H-Huhu, please! It's my first time!" he whimpered, his voice breaking.

"I don't give a fuck. Arch your back and take it." I grabbed a handful of his ass and squeezed until his skin was flushed a deep, angry red. "Look at this hole. It’s begging for it."

Squelch. Plop. Squelch. 

I started to pulse against the entrance, teasing him, before giving one massive, violent lunge.

Squelch

The sound of his ring finally giving way was the best thing I’d ever heard. I was halfway in. Six inches of thick, pulsing meat buried deep in his searing heat. Wade let out a sound that wasn't even human, a raw, guttural howl of pure shock and pain.

"AAAAA! God! It’s too big! It’s too fucking big!" he sobbed, his head hanging low, spit dripping from his mouth. "Leon, please... you're killing me! My hole is gonna snap!"

"Shut it! You’re taking it because you’re a cock-hungry bitch," I growled. "Feel that? You think a pussy can squeeze like this? Not a chance. This is a thousand times better."

Being buried in him felt like being wrapped in a hot, wet silk furnace. Every muscle in his ass was spasming around me, trying to push me out and suck me deeper at the same time. I stayed still for a second, letting the lube work, letting his virgin pussy adjust to the reality of being stretched wide by a goddamn cannon. 

Wade was white-knuckling a barbell, grabbing the cold steel for dear life while his body took the beating of a lifetime. He had to. I started moving my hips, slow at first, just testing the depth. Every time I surged forward, I felt more of my shaft disappear into his heat, the premium lube doing overtime to make sure I didn't just split him in half.

The deeper I went, the tighter it got. It was a struggle to push past those inner rings, but I leaned into it, using my weight until, squelch, I was hilt-deep. My pubic hair was mashed against his smooth, muscular ass cheeks, our sweat-slicked skin fusing together. Neither of us could help it, we both let out this long, guttural moan that echoed off the high ceiling of the gym.

Once I was buried as far as I could go, I started grinding. I was on my tiptoes, rotating my hips to make sure that twelve.seven-inch monster hit every single nerve ending inside him. My head was bumping against a solid, elastic wall deep in his core, and the sensation was making me see stars. 

I started a rhythm. Halfway out, then slamming back in until my balls slapped his thighs. 

Thwack. Thwack. Thwack. 

I kept the pace steady, heavy, and relentless. The friction was building, the air between us getting thick and humid as our bodies heated up. The gym was a ghost town. Just the two of us under those harsh fluorescent lights, our bodies glistening with sweat like we’d been dipped in oil. It was filthy. It was wrong. We were both husbands, both dads or soon-to-be dads, doing the one thing we’d swear on our lives we’d never do, and doing it with the one person we were supposed to hate.

I increased the power, my thrusts getting more violent.

"Agh... fuck... Leon!" Wade choked out, his voice vibrating with the impact. "Your cock... it’s too much. I can feel it in my stomach. You’re gonna break me, man!"

"You'll survive," I growled, my breath hot against his neck. "Your hole is stretching for me, Wade. It’s taking it like a champ. It’s a goddamn pussy now, and I’m gonna treat it like one."

I watched his face in the mirror across the way, eyes rolled back, mouth hanging open, his thick gym-rat frame twitching every time I bottomed out. It was unbelievable. This alpha prick was being absolutely dominated by the guy he thought was a runt. If his wife could see him now, she’d realize she was married to the biggest cock-hungry slut in the county.

I threw one arm over his shoulder, using the leverage to really drive it home. Every thrust was a goddamn earthquake. 

Squelch. Thud. Squelch. 

The sound of my hips hitting his ass was like a wet drumbeat. I was breathing like a goddamn bull, sweat dripping off my chin onto his ass, my muscles locking up as I poured everything I had into him. He was writhing under me, screaming in this mix of agony and high-voltage pleasure, but I didn't stop. I just kept hammering away, a man possessed, trying to bury my entire existence inside him.

"Agh... ah... fuck, yes! more! Wreck it!" Wade was howling now, his voice raw and echoing off the gym walls. "I didn't know... I didn't know a dick could feel like this! Just keep going. Rip me apart. I’m a slut for that monster of yours!"

I let out a dark, ragged laugh, my hands gripping his waist so hard I knew I’d leave bruises. "You like being a little bitch, don't you, Wade? Where's all that big-talk now? Where’s the king of the town?"

"He's dead!" he gasped, his head lolling back. "He’s gone! There’s just this hole... and it needs you! Every time you hit it, I feel it in my brain! It’s better than anything... better than any pussy... please, Leon, don't stop!"

"You're a fucking addict," I growled, slamming in harder, my balls smacking his ass wet and loud.

Thwack. Thwack. Thwack.

"Look at that desperate pussy—still twitching like it owns you. Your wife know you're this cock-hungry now? That you're at the gym letting the guy you hate wreck your hole?"

"I don't give a fuck!" Wade groaned, back bowing, sweat flying as the weights rattled. "Fuck her! Fuck the kids! Just keep pounding my pussy—I'm hooked. I need this dick every day now!"

I smirked at the broken mountain of muscle beneath me. Grabbed a fistful of his hair, yanked his head back, and wrapped my other hand around his throat—squeezing just enough to make his moans choke out raw.

"You're pathetic," I growled, slamming into him with everything I had. "But god damn, your new pussy is a miracle. It’s trying to suck the soul out of my cock."

"Use it!" he whimpered, his hands clawing at the bench. "Drain yourself into me! I'm your bucket, Leon... please, give it to me all!"

I was seeing stars. The friction was incredible, the heat inside him turned up to a boiling point. I was pounding him like a hammer on an anvil, my hips aching, my heart a frantic mess in my chest. I gave him a couple of sharp slaps across the his ass, marking him as mine. He took it all, his body twitching with every blow, every thrust.

I was gassing out, my breath coming in ragged, heavy hitches. I slowed the pace, letting my cock stay buried deep in his searing heat. We were both drenched, glistening like we’d been dipped in oil under the harsh gym lights.

"I need to move," I panted, my hands sliding over his slick, muscular shoulders. "I'm not done with you yet, but we're changing this up."

I kept my cock locked inside him, the pressure intense as we both shifted, moving slow and careful to stay coupled while he stood up from the bench. 

"Get on top," I barked, my voice rough and strained.

Wade climbed over me, his knees on either side of my hips, and slowly lowered himself down. He hissed as my thick, slick cock slid back into his tight hole, impaling him all the way to the hilt. He had to balance carefully on the narrow bench, his hands gripping my thighs, his knuckles white.

I was on my back now, and the view was incredible. Wade was riding me, facing me, his chest puffed out, his abs tight, his whole body a perfect canvas of masculine beauty. Every time he dropped his ass down, I could see his stomach bulge out where the tip of my cock was pressing against his insides. That twelve-inch hook was rearranging his guts, and he was taking every inch like a champion.

I reached up, palm flat against his lower abs, right over that obscene swell. Felt it push out hard against my hand every time he bottomed out—solid, hot, alive with my dick.

"Look at that," I said, pressing down just enough to make him gasp and clench. "Already knocked up with my cock, huh? Your greedy little pussy's so full it's showing. Gonna walk outta here looking pregnant with every inch I pumped in you."

Wade's eyes rolled back, hips stuttering as he ground down harder, chasing that pressure. "F-fuck… yeah… breed me… keep it in… don't pull out…"

I grinned, fingers splaying wider over the bulge, feeling my own shaft throb inside him through his stretched skin. "That's right."

He whimpered, riding faster, the wet slap of his ass against my hips filling the empty gym like a drum.

His own dick, still half-hard and leaking, was slapping against my stomach with every heavy bounce. His head was thrown back, his throat exposed, a low, guttural growl rumbling in his chest as he ground his tight hole down on my shaft. 

This was a man completely undone by lust, riding me like his life depended on it. 

I moved up, grabbing his thick, muscular pecs, squeezing the hard muscle as I started to buck my hips up to meet his thrusts. He was coming down, and I was ramming up. It was a perfect storm of friction and heat.

Squelch. Thud. Squelch.

"Agh... fuck... Wade, you're gonna kill me," I gasped, the pressure inside his tight hole almost too much to handle. "It's so fucking tight..."

"Leon... it's burning... you're stretching me so wide..." he groaned, his eyes rolling back in his head.

I couldn’t take it anymore. I grabbed his thighs, locking him in place. "Hold still."

Using pure core strength, I lifted my back off the bench, my lean legs planted on the floor, and started to pile-drive up into him. The pace was frantic, brutal. I was a machine, my hips a blur as I slammed my cock into his hole again and again and again.

Wade was gone. He was just a vessel, his body a trembling, spasming mess, a low, keening sound escaping his lips as I pounded him into oblivion.

"Your cock... it's hooking me... ripping me apart..." he sobbed, his head lolling from side to side. "Slow... ahh... slow down..."

"A pussy this good deserves a proper fucking," I growled, not slowing down for a second. "You're taking it all, Wade. Every last inch."

I kept pounding, steady and deep, for maybe a full minute before Wade lost it completely. His whole body locked up, abs clenching hard, then, bam, his cock erupted like a fucking champain. Thick ropes of cum shot straight up, splattering hot across my stomach, chest, even hitting my chin and cheek in heavy, sticky blasts. Just like when I used to make my ex-wife squirt, except this was pure dick-milk, no pussy involved, and he was unloading buckets.

"I'm coming... oh god, Leon... I'm coming!" he whimpered, voice cracking, eyes rolling back.

I laughed low, still buried balls-deep. “First time in my life I’ve seen a dude cum hands-free like that. You’re fucking filthy, man. Your hole’s getting railed like a girl’s cunt, and your cock’s still blasting like a firehose. You sure you’re even a man anymore?”

“No… no… I’m a man…” he gasped, but it sounded weak, half-convincing himself.

The second the last spurt dribbled out, the post-nut clarity hit him like a truck. His face twisted, hole twitching around my shaft, suddenly too sensitive, too raw. He tapped my thigh weakly, signaling slow down. I eased off just enough for him to pull himself free, with a loud, wet pop that echoed in the empty gym. His legs gave out instantly, those big, muscled thighs shaking like jelly, quivering under the strain. Dude looked wrecked: knees buckling, calves trembling, the whole lower half of him gone soft and useless despite all that gym-rat bulk.

He collapsed backward onto the rubber mat, one thick forearm flung over his eyes, chest heaving like he’d just run a marathon. Breath ragged, almost sobbing between gulps of air.

“I can’t… I can’t take it anymore… my pussy’s done, man…”

Like hell I was letting him tap out that easy.

“You think you get to nut all over me and then bail? Nah. Lie there. I’m not finished punishing that greedy hole yet.”

I slid off the bench, dropped between his spread legs like I owned them. Those thighs parted wider under my hands, still trembling.

“Please… you already fucked me till I came for you… isn’t that enough?” His voice was small now, pleading.

“I haven’t blown yet, so no, we’re not done. Gimme that sloppy pussy. I’ve been pent up for months. Gonna breed you till you’re knocked up, then maybe call it quits. Two more rounds, minimum.”

I hooked my arms under his knees, hoisted those heavy, quivering legs up and out. Fuck, they weighed a ton, solid muscle gone limp and floppy, like deadlifting warm iron. But the horniness gave me the extra pump; I spread him wide, thighs splayed, ass lifted off the mat.

I pushed hard, leaning my weight in so his tailbone lifted clean off the rubber mat. His ass tilted up, exposed, helpless, gravity doing half the work now.

And there it was.

His hole, his new pussy, was a total mess after fifteen minutes of nonstop pounding. The rim was swollen fat and puffy, bright red-pink like overripe fruit, glistening with spit, lube, and his own cum that had leaked back down. The outer ring looked stretched and loose now, no longer that tight virgin pucker, it gaped open just a fraction even when he tried to clench, showing slick, shiny inner walls that pulsed weakly. Every twitch made the swollen flesh quiver, the muscles around it still thick and defined from all those squats, but right now they were useless, softened, overworked, trembling like they’d been beaten into submission. 

Cum and spit dripped slow from the center, pooling on the mat below, the whole thing looking raw, used, and obscenely inviting. Those powerful glutes framed it perfectly, still round and meaty, but now they jiggled faintly with every shaky breath he took.

Handprints from my earlier slaps bloomed angry red across both cheeks, fingerprints stamped deep into the pale skin like ownership marks.

I planted my feet wide, straddling his hips, then bent low and hooked my arms under his knees, pinning his thighs back against his chest. Locked him in place. My cockhead kissed that wrecked opening again, then I sank in slow, inch by thick inch, until I bottomed out with a wet slap of skin on skin.

Wade went rigid at first, a choked gasp ripping out of him. Legs trembling in my grip, abs quivering, he couldn’t push back, couldn’t close his thighs, couldn’t do shit but take it. His hole clenched weakly around me, trying to fight the stretch, but every time I pulled back it sucked me right back in like it was starving. Pre-cum leaked steady from his softening cock, dripping in slow, shiny strings down his abs, pooling between his pecs, a couple drops even hitting his flushed cheek. He was hard again already, or at least half-hard, betraying him.

I stared down at him while I fucked. Goddamn, he was gorgeous like this. Wrecked and spread and mine. Those full, heavy pecs bounced with every thrust, nipples still puffy and dark from earlier teasing, skin shiny with sweat and his own leaks. Perfect tits on a man built like a tank. I could watch them jiggle forever.

His hands flew from covering his face to clawing at the mat, nails scraping rubber. Then they shot up, grabbing my forearms like I was the only thing keeping him from drowning. Fingers digging in, desperate, holding on for dear life.

I kept the rhythm slow. Deliberate. Deep. Every stroke bottomed out, hips grinding in a slow circle at the end, like stirring thick soup inside him, before dragging out almost to the tip, then slamming back home. Each time I bottomed, his hole fluttered and gripped, milking me involuntarily.

Wade lost it fast. Low, broken moans started spilling out, turning into these pathetic, horny whimpers. “Fuck… fuck… too deep… too full…” His voice cracked, hips twitching up despite himself, chasing the pressure even as his face twisted in overwhelmed pleasure-pain. 

The new angle crushed his prostate every single time. Just relentless, grinding fullness that made his cock dribble more, made his balls draw up tight again. He was going crazy from it, overstimulated, stuffed, turned into nothing but a hole that needed to be filled.

I leaned down closer, feeling those meaty pecs mash against my face.

“Not a bad night with me, right, Wade?” I growled against his ear, hips rolling slow and mean. “It's just seven and my load can fill you at least 3 time.”

I could feel it building, a pressure deep in my balls that had been coiling tight for months. My whole body was a live wire, every nerve ending screaming. I was close. Too close. Wade felt it too, his whole body tensing under me as my rhythm changed, becoming more frantic, more desperate.

“Don’t… fuck, Leon, don’t shoot in me,” he begged, his voice a ragged whisper. “Please. Outside. Anything but inside. Don’t… don’t make me a…” He couldn’t even finish the sentence. He knew what it meant. 

Like hell I was gonna pull out.

I buried myself to the root, aiming for that spot deep inside him I’d been carving out with the head of my cock. I pinned him to the fucking floor with my hips and let go.

My whole body locked up, a low growl ripping out of my throat. The first shot blasted out of me like a shotgun, hot and thick, flooding his tight, virgin passage. Wade screamed, a raw, animal sound of shock and pleasure as his inner muscles spasmed violently around my shaft, milking me harder.

A second shot. A third. A fourth. It was a goddamn tidal wave. Months of backed-up frustration, of pent-up horniness, all of it just erupting out of me in thick, pulsing ropes. I kept pumping, emptying every last drop, filling him up until I could feel the pressure building deep inside his gut. His eyes were streaming tears, his own cock leaking pathetic little dribbles onto his chest, but his hole just kept clenching, taking everything I had to give.

After what felt like an eternity, the last pulse wracked my body. The world went white. My brain short-circuited. My strength just vanished.

Then I collapsed, full weight dropping onto his big, sweaty frame like falling onto a warm, solid cloud.

My face buried between those massive pecs, nose smashed into smooth, salty skin, cheek pressed to one fat, heaving tit. His heartbeat hammered against my ear, fast, wild. Thick thighs clamped around my waist like he’d never let me go, even as he panted and shook beneath me.

My arms wrapped him tight, hands sinking into those heavy pecs, squeezing and kneading while I caught my breath. Cock still buried deep, half-hard, plugging him full. Every tiny shift sent warm cum sloshing inside, thick and slow, already trying to leak out around my base. I wasn’t pulling out. Not yet.

I lay there panting against him, sweat-slick chests glued together, his breath hitching, soft sobs tangled with shaky exhales. Neither of us moved to break the hold.

After a long minute, his breathing finally eased from frantic to heavy. I nuzzled deeper into the valley of his pecs, dragged my tongue slow and wet up the salty center just to feel him twitch.

“Not done yet, big guy,” I murmured against his skin, voice low and lazy. “Told you, two more rounds at least. Maybe three if you keep looking this fucked-out and pretty.”

He groaned, half-laugh, half-whine, trying to push at my shoulders but too wrecked to put real force behind it. “Bro… no. My pussy’s already flooded. You pumped like a fucking firehose in there. I can feel it sloshing every time I breathe. We’re done, man. I’m tapped.”

I just grinned, rolling my hips in a slow grind that made his hole flutter and more cum bubble out. “Nah. You say no, but this greedy cunt’s still sucking on me like it wants seconds. And look,..” I reached down, wrapped my hand around his softening cock, gave it a lazy tug. It twitched, already leaking again. “Your dick’s not saying no either.”

He cursed under his breath, head dropping back to the mat. “You’re a fucking menace…”

I didn’t argue. Just kept talking shit, kissing and biting at his pecs, tweaking those fat nipples until he was squirming again, hole clenching around nothing now that I’d finally slipped out. He fought it, verbally, at least, but his body betrayed him every time. Couldn’t resist the mouth, the hands, the way I kept promising “just one more” until it wasn’t.

In the end he folded. Completely.

We went rounds on him, me railing him stupid until he came hands-free four more times, shaking and whimpering, cum splattering his abs, his chest, even his own chin. Dude was a mess, legs jelly, hole gaping and puffy, voice hoarse from moaning.

Me? I held out longer. Saved the best for last.

Second big finish: bent him over the old wooden bench press table, fucked him with the rest of the lube in the bottle through three different positions, face-down ass-up, then legs over my shoulders so I could watch his pecs bounce, then flipped him sideways so I could suck on those tits while I pounded. When I finally pulled out, I shoved him to his knees and unloaded straight across his face and into his open mouth, thick ropes painting his cheeks, lips, tongue. He swallowed what landed inside, dazed, eyes glassy.

Thirt load came way later, after we’d stumbled to the showers pretending it was over. “Yeah, yeah, cleaning up, heading out,” I lied, turning on the hot water. But the second the steam hit us, I had him backed against the tiles, cock down his throat in a sloppy deep-throat choke. He gagged, drooled, but took it like a champ. Then I spun him around, bent him over, hands full of those heavy, soapy pecs, squeezing, pinching nipples hard while I slid back into his wrecked hole from behind with his thick slimy spit on my cock. Fucked him steady under the spray until he was moaning into the wall.

Last move: I sat on the shower bench, pulled him onto my lap facing me. “Ride it,” I growled. “Show me how bad you want the finish.”

He did. Straddled me, sank down slow, then started bouncing, slow at first, then desperate, those meaty glutes slapping wet against my thighs. His cock rubbed against my abs, leaking nonstop. I mauled his tits the whole time, sucking bruises into them, until he came again, shuddering, spilling weak spurts between us.

That pushed me over. I gripped his hips, slammed up hard a few times, and bred him one final time, deep in that sloppy, cum-filled pussy, pumping the last of my load straight into his guts while the water washed over us.

We stayed like that a long minute, him slumped against my chest, my arms wrapped around his back, both of us panting under the spray.

Finally, I kissed the side of his neck. “Told you. Night’s young.”

He just laughed weakly, no fight left. “You’re killing me, man.”

Worth it.

The shower hissed, steam clinging to our skin. Wade leaned against the slick tiles, looking wrecked and oddly small despite his size.

“Hey,” he said, his voice rough.

“Yeah?”

“Tonight… this whole thing… can we just keep it between us?”

I looked at him, really looked at him. The arrogant bastard was gone, replaced by this raw, vulnerable guy who smelled like my cum. “Don’t worry about it,” I said, my voice softer than I intended. “This is our secret. I’ll take it to the grave.”

“It’s just… my wife, the kids…”

“I get it,” I cut him off. “I get it. You still hurting?”

He winced, a hand going to his ass. “You bet. Your dick’s a fucking weapon, man. But… it’s a good hurt.” He met my eyes, a flicker of something real in them. “Did you… was it good for you?”

“Yeah,” I admitted. “It was fucking incredible.”

“Me too.” A long silence hung between us, thick with unspoken shit. “So… you think… maybe we could…?”

“Don’t push it,” I said, turning off the water. “I can’t promise anything. But I’m not gonna forget tonight. Ever.”

“Yeah. Okay.” He nodded, looking almost relieved. “You should probably get going. Your wife’s gonna wonder where you’ve been.”

I drove home through the wet streets. The rain had stopped, and the town was coming back to life. I felt… weird. Empty and full at the same time. A pair of headlights from a passing pickup truck hit my windshield, a blinding white glare that made me squint. For a second, I was back in that foggy, primal headspace from the gym, high on adrenaline and the raw pleasure of it all.

Then the light got too bright, too harsh. I had to look away. It felt just like that, the horniness, the anger, the sheer animal need had been a blinding light, an excuse to do whatever the fuck I wanted. But now, with the release over and the adrenaline fading, the aftermath felt sharp and uncomfortable. 

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