The next few days are more of the same—Michael texting constantly, sending photos, completely oblivious to what we've actually been doing. His messages are a mix of workout updates ("hit a new PR on bench today bro!!!"), innocent questions ("what r u doing tonight?"), and the occasional nude with captions like "progress check?"
He has no idea that every "bro" and "buddy" just makes me want to corrupt him further.
Thursday afternoon, I'm lying on my bed scrolling through Michael's latest batch of gym selfies when I decide I need to see him again. It's been three days since the shower, and I'm getting restless.
I pull on a pair of running shorts—the tight ones that look painted onto my bubble butt, the fabric so thin and form-fitting that it leaves absolutely nothing to the imagination. I pair it with a black compression shirt that hugs my chest and abs. I look good. Really good.
I check myself in the mirror, running my hands over my ass, admiring the way the shorts cling to every curve. Perfect.
I head across the lawn to the Richardson house, my heart rate picking up with anticipation. It's mid-afternoon on a Thursday. The parents might be home, but that's fine. I'm the polite neighbour boy. The one who goes to church with them.
I knock on the front door, expecting Mrs. Richardson or maybe Michael himself to answer.
The door swings open.
And I freeze.
Standing in the doorway is not Michael. It's someone who looks like Michael—same facial structure, same warm brown eyes, same golden-brown hair—but bigger. Broader. Older.
And completely shirtless.
He's massive. Easily 6'4", with shoulders that seem to fill the entire doorframe. His chest is incredible—two huge slabs of muscle, firm and thick, with a deep cleft between them. His pecs are heaving slightly, glistening with a light sheen of sweat that catches the afternoon sun. His abs are a perfect six-pack, leading down to a narrow waist and the waistband of gray sweatpants that hang low on his hips.
His arms are thick and corded with muscle, veins visible beneath tan skin. His whole body radiates strength and power.
And there, hanging between those massive pecs, is an identical gold cross necklace.
I realize I'm staring. My mouth is slightly open, my eyes tracing over every inch of this god-like body standing in front of me.
He grins—that same puppy-dog smile that Michael has—and extends a hand.
"Hey! You must be Jordan. I'm Marcus, Michael's older brother."
His voice is deep, warm, friendly. His handshake is firm, his palm slightly rough with calluses.
I manage to find my voice. "Hey. Yeah, I'm Jordan. Nice to meet you."
"Michael talks about you nonstop, man." Marcus laughs, and the sound is genuine and open. "Jordan this, Jordan that. I was starting to think you were imaginary."
I force myself to smile, to act normal, even though my brain is short-circuiting. "All good things, I hope."
"Oh yeah, definitely. He says you've been helping him with his workouts and stuff. That's really cool of you."
Marcus steps aside, gesturing for me to come in. As I pass him, I catch the scent of sweat and something masculine and clean. My cock twitches in my tight shorts.
"I just finished a chest workout," Marcus says, closing the door behind me. He flexes his pecs unconsciously, making them bounce. "Trying to maintain my gains while I'm home for the weekend."
"Weekend visit?" I ask, trying to keep my voice casual while my eyes are glued to his chest.
"Yeah, I go to Covenant Christian College about three hours away. Came home to surprise the family." He grins. "And to raid Mom's fridge. Dorm food is terrible."
Covenant Christian College. I know that place—ultra-conservative, strict rules, mandatory chapel services. The kind of school where they monitor everything.
"That's cool," I say. "Michael didn't mention you were visiting."
"He didn't know! I wanted to surprise him." Marcus's expression shifts slightly. "Actually, he's not here right now. He and Mom and Dad went to some church event. Youth group thing or something. They should be back in a couple hours."
I let disappointment show on my face. "Oh, that's too bad. I was hoping to catch him."
"Sorry, man." Marcus looks genuinely apologetic. "You can hang out and wait if you want? Or I can tell him you stopped by?"
I'm about to respond when I really look at Marcus—at his face, his expression, the eager-to-please energy radiating off him.
And I realize something.
He's just as dumb as Michael.
That same puppy-dog enthusiasm. That same naive openness. That same complete lack of awareness.
My mind starts working immediately, calculating, planning.
"Actually," I say slowly, "I was hoping Michael could help me practice some techniques I've been learning."
"Techniques?" Marcus tilts his head, curious.
"Yeah, I'm studying physiotherapy," I lie smoothly. "Learning about muscle manipulation, massage therapy, that kind of thing. Michael said he'd let me practice on him since he's such a perfect specimen." I gesture to Marcus's incredible body. "Though honestly, you're even more impressive. Those pecs are insane."
Marcus's face lights up. "Oh man, thanks! I've been working really hard on my chest. It's my favorite muscle group to train."
"I can tell." I step closer, letting my eyes roam over his torso appreciatively. "The definition is incredible. And the size—how much can you bench?"
"Three-fifty for reps," Marcus says proudly, flexing his pecs again. They bounce, the thick muscle rippling. "Trying to hit four hundred by the end of the semester."
"That's amazing." I reach out, hesitating just before touching him. "Would you mind if I...? I'm really studying muscle structure and yours is just perfect for learning."
"Oh, sure!" Marcus doesn't hesitate. "Go ahead, man."
I place my hands on his pecs, feeling the firm warmth beneath my palms. They're incredible—thick and solid, with just enough give to be squeezable. I can feel his heartbeat, steady and strong.
Marcus just stands there, smiling that dumb smile, completely oblivious to the fact that I'm basically groping him.
"The muscle fiber density is incredible," I murmur, squeezing gently, my fingers digging into the firm flesh. "And the way they're structured... Have you ever had them professionally massaged?"
"Nah, never really thought about it."
"You should. Massage therapy is crucial for muscle recovery and growth." I keep my hands moving, exploring, feeling every inch of his massive chest. "Especially for someone training as hard as you."
Marcus is watching me with interest, completely trusting. "Really? I didn't know that."
"Oh yeah. It's a huge part of athletic performance." I step back reluctantly, my hands leaving his chest. "Actually, that's what I was going to practice with Michael today. I've been learning these advanced massage techniques that are supposed to really help with muscle development."
I pause, letting disappointment show on my face again. "But I guess I'll have to come back another time..."
"Wait!" Marcus stops me, his hand on my arm. "I could help instead! I mean, if you want to practice on me, I'm totally down. Michael's always talking about how much you've helped him, and I'd love to learn some new recovery techniques."
I pretend to consider this, even though my heart is racing. "Are you sure? It's pretty intensive. We'd need to go somewhere private, and you'd need to be comfortable with... well, with being touched a lot."
"Yeah, totally!" Marcus nods eagerly. "I'm super comfortable with that stuff."
"Okay," I say, smiling. "If you're sure. We should probably go somewhere comfortable. Your room?"
"Oh, I'm actually staying in Michael's room while I'm here. We're sharing his bed." Marcus leads me toward the stairs. "Hope that's cool."
"Perfectly cool."
Michael's room looks the same as it did a few days ago—typical teenage mess, gym equipment in the corner, posters on the walls. But now there's a duffel bag in the corner, clothes spilling out of it. Marcus's stuff.
Marcus closes the door behind us and turns to me expectantly. "So, how does this work?"
"Well, first you'll need to get comfortable. The massage works best with minimal clothing." I keep my voice professional, clinical. "Most athletes just wear their underwear, but some prefer to go completely nude for maximum muscle access."
"Oh, okay." Marcus doesn't hesitate. He hooks his thumbs into his sweatpants and pushes them down.
He's wearing tight gray briefs underneath, and they're struggling to contain what's inside. I can see the outline of his cock—thick and long, snaking down his inner thigh. Even soft, it's massive.
"Is this good?" Marcus asks, standing there in just his briefs and that gold cross.
I let my eyes travel down his body slowly. "Actually, for the techniques I'm going to use, it's better to go all the way. Full muscle access, no restrictions."
"Oh, sure." Marcus shrugs and hooks his thumbs into his briefs.
He pulls them down.
And I actually gasp.
His cock is enormous. Easily twelve inches, thick as my wrist, hanging heavy between his muscular thighs. It's beautiful—perfectly shaped, with a fat mushroom head and thick veins running along the shaft. His balls are huge too, hanging low and full.
I'm stunned into silence for a moment, just staring.
Marcus doesn't seem to notice my reaction. He just kicks his briefs aside and stands there, completely naked, that dumb smile on his face. "Like this?"
"Y-yeah," I manage, my mouth suddenly dry. "That's perfect."
Marcus moves toward the bed, about to lie on his stomach, but I stop him.
"Actually, I always start with the chest. It's the foundation of the whole massage sequence."
"Oh, okay." Marcus lies on his back instead, his massive body stretched out on Michael's bed. His cock is resting against his thigh, still soft but impressive. His pecs rise like mountains on his chest, and that gold cross gleams between them.
I grab the massage oil from my bag—I always carry it now, just in case—and move to straddle him.
I position myself carefully, my knees on either side of his torso, my ass settling right over his cock. I can feel it beneath me, hot and thick, pressing against my bubble butt through my thin shorts.
Marcus doesn't react. Just lies there, looking up at me with those trusting brown eyes.
"So," I say, pouring oil into my palms and rubbing them together, "tell me about school. Covenant Christian, right?"
"Yeah!" Marcus's face lights up. "It's awesome, man. Really strict, but in a good way, you know? Keeps us focused on what matters."
I place my oiled hands on his pecs and start massaging. The muscle is firm and warm beneath my palms, and I can feel it respond to my touch. I squeeze, knead, work my fingers into the thick flesh.
"What kind of strict?" I ask, keeping my voice casual.
"Oh, you know. Curfews, mandatory chapel, dress codes. No alcohol, no drugs, obviously. And we have to follow the purity pledge."
"Purity pledge?" I dig my fingers deeper into his pecs, feeling them flex beneath my touch.
"Yeah, like... abstinence until marriage. No sex, no fooling around with girls. It's part of our commitment to Christian values."
I can feel his cock starting to swell beneath me. The thick shaft is hardening, pressing more firmly against my ass.
"That must be hard," I say, my hands moving in slow circles over his massive chest. "Especially for a guy like you. You must have girls all over you."
Marcus laughs, and I feel his chest rumble beneath my palms. "I have a girlfriend, actually. Sarah. She goes to the sister school. We're both committed to staying pure until marriage."
His cock is definitely hard now. I can feel it throbbing beneath me, the thick shaft pressing insistently against my bubble butt.
"That's really admirable," I say, squeezing his pecs harder. My thumbs find his nipples—already hard—and I circle them slowly. "It must take a lot of discipline."
"Yeah," Marcus breathes, his voice slightly strained. His hips shift beneath me, pressing his hard cock more firmly against my ass. "It's not always easy, but it's worth it."
I lean forward slightly, putting more pressure on his chest, and my ass grinds down on his cock. Marcus makes a small sound—half gasp, half moan.
"What about your buddies at school?" I ask, my hands still working his pecs. "Are they all committed to the same values?"
"Most of them, yeah. We're all on the football team together. We keep each other accountable, you know? Make sure we're staying on the right path."
I can feel his cock pulsing now, rock hard and leaking. There's wetness seeping through my shorts where his pre-cum is flowing.
"That's great," I say. "Having buddies to help each other out is so important. Especially when you're being abstinent."
I slide my shorts down slowly, deliberately. My bubble butt is now directly on his cock, only my thin underwear separating us.
Marcus's breathing has changed. It's faster, shallower. His hands are gripping the sheets.
"You know," I continue, grinding down slightly, "being abstinent is really cool. It shows discipline and commitment. But it's also important that buddies help each other out during that time. Since women aren't allowed, guys need to support each other in other ways."
Marcus looks confused but nods. "Yeah... I guess that makes sense?"
I reach back, my hand wrapping around his massive cock. It's so thick my fingers barely meet. I stroke slowly, feeling the heat, the hardness, the way it pulses in my grip.
Marcus groans, his hips bucking up into my hand.
"Have you ever had a cock muscle massage?" I ask casually, still stroking.
"A... what?" Marcus's voice is strained.
I turn to look at him, my expression serious. "A cock muscle massage. It's a crucial part of physiotherapy for athletes, especially abstinent ones. You've never had one?"
"N-no," Marcus stammers, his cock throbbing in my hand.
I let shock show on my face. "Really? That's... that's actually concerning. The cock is a muscle, just like any other. If you're abstinent and not exercising it regularly, it can lead to problems down the line. Especially when you get married and need it to function properly."
Marcus's eyes go wide. "Problems? What kind of problems?"
"Muscle atrophy, reduced blood flow, decreased sensitivity. It's a real issue." I'm making this up as I go, but Marcus is buying every word. "But don't worry. I've been learning the proper massage techniques in school. I can help you."
"Really?" Marcus looks genuinely worried now. "I don't want problems when I marry Sarah. What do I need to do?"
I pour more oil into my palm, coating my hand thoroughly. Then I reach back and wrap both hands around his massive cock, stroking slowly, deliberately.
"This is the basic technique," I explain, my hands sliding up and down his thick shaft. "But there's a more advanced method that's much more effective. It provides deeper muscle stimulation and better blood flow."
"What is it?" Marcus asks eagerly, his hips thrusting up into my hands.
I slide my underwear off completely. My bubble butt is now bare, sitting directly on his thighs, his massive cock standing between us like a monument.
"The advanced technique involves internal massage," I say, positioning myself carefully. "It stimulates the muscle from the inside, which is much more effective for maintaining health and function. It's what all the top athletic trainers recommend for abstinent athletes."
"Really?" Marcus's eyes are wide with genuine interest. "I've never heard of that."
"That's because most people don't know about it. But trust me, it's crucial." I reach back and grip his cock, feeling the heat radiating from it. It's so thick my fingers barely meet around the shaft. "This is going to feel really intense, but that's how you know it's working."
I position the fat mushroom head at my entrance. My hole is already slick with oil and anticipation, but even so, I know this is going to be a stretch.
"Like this," I say, and start pushing back.
The head presses against my hole, and I have to force myself to relax. He's so fucking big. The pressure builds as I push back, feeling my rim stretch around the thick head. It's almost too much—the burn, the stretch—but I breathe through it, relaxing my muscles, letting my body open up for him.
The head pops inside and I gasp. The sensation is overwhelming—he's so thick, stretching me wider than I've ever been stretched before. I can feel every ridge, every vein, the heat of him pulsing inside me.
Marcus groans loud, his hands flying to my hips. "Oh fuck—Jordan—that's—what is that—"
"That's the internal massage," I moan, still pushing back slowly. "This is the best way. This is how buddies help each other out. How we keep our cock muscles healthy and strong."
I sink down further, taking more of him. Inch by inch, his massive shaft slides into me. The stretch is incredible, almost painful, but in the best way. I can feel my inner walls gripping him, trying to accommodate his size. He's so thick, so long, filling me completely.
"It feels so good," Marcus gasps, his fingers digging into my hips. "Is it supposed to feel this good?"
"Absolutely," I breathe, still sinking down. "That's the muscle responding to the massage. The better it feels, the more effective it is."
I'm halfway down now, and I pause, adjusting to the fullness. His cock is throbbing inside me, pulsing with his heartbeat. I can feel every inch of him—the thick shaft stretching me, the way it curves slightly, hitting spots inside me that make my whole body shudder.
Marcus's oiled-up body is glistening beneath me. His massive pecs are heaving with each breath, the thick muscle rippling. His abs are clenched tight, a six-pack of pure muscle flexing with tension. His shoulders are broad and powerful, his arms corded with veins. The gold cross is resting between his pecs, catching the light.
"You're doing so good," I moan, sinking down further. "Such a good buddy, helping me help you."
"I want to be a good buddy," Marcus says earnestly, and his voice is strained but genuine. "I want to help. This is what teammates do, right?"
"Exactly," I gasp. "This is exactly what teammates do."
I sink down the rest of the way, finally sitting fully on his cock. He's balls deep inside me, his massive shaft stretching me completely. I feel impossibly full, stuffed, claimed. His cock is so deep I can feel it in my stomach.
"Oh god," Marcus groans. "You're so tight—it's so warm—"
I stay still for a moment, letting my body adjust to his size. His cock is pulsing inside me, throbbing, leaking pre-cum that I can feel coating my inner walls. The sensation is overwhelming—the fullness, the heat, the way he's stretching me.
Then I start moving.
I lift up slowly, feeling his cock drag against my inner walls. The friction is incredible. Every ridge, every vein, every inch of his thick shaft drags against my prostate, sending shocks of pleasure through my body. I lift until just the head is inside me, then sink back down.
"Fuck," I moan, unable to stop myself. The sensation of his cock filling me again is almost too much.
Marcus's hands are gripping my hips now, his fingers digging into my skin. His breathing is ragged, his chest heaving beneath me. "This is—this is amazing—"
I start riding him properly now, lifting up and sinking down in a steady rhythm. His cock slides in and out of me, stretching me, filling me, hitting every sensitive spot inside me. My bubble butt bounces with each movement, slapping against his thighs.
"You're so big," I moan, reaching forward to grab his massive pecs. They're slick with oil, warm and firm beneath my palms. I squeeze them, using them for leverage as I ride him. "So thick—stretching me so good—"
"Is that good?" Marcus asks, his voice strained. "Am I doing it right?"
"You're perfect," I gasp, bouncing faster. "Your cock is perfect for this. So big and strong."
I lean forward, pressing my chest against his, and attack his pecs with my mouth. I kiss the thick muscle, licking the oil and sweat from his skin. He tastes masculine and clean, with a hint of salt. I move to his nipples—already hard—and suck one into my mouth.
Marcus gasps, his hips bucking up involuntarily, driving his cock deeper into me. "Oh fuck—"
I suck harder, my tongue circling his nipple, my teeth grazing it gently. His pec is so thick, so firm, the muscle flexing beneath my lips. I move to the other nipple, giving it the same attention, while my hands squeeze and knead his chest.
"Your pecs are incredible," I moan against his skin. "So big and strong. I bet your football buddies are jealous."
"Some of them, yeah," Marcus pants. "My buddy Jake is always trying to catch up to me. And Tyler—he's got a good chest but not as big as mine."
"They should try this massage too," I say, still riding him, still worshipping his chest. "I bet they'd love it. Especially if they're abstinent like you."
"You think so?" Marcus sounds genuinely interested. "Jake and Tyler are both waiting until marriage too. We all are on the team. It's part of our commitment."
"Then they definitely need this," I moan, sitting up and grinding down on his cock. The angle shifts and he hits my prostate dead-on, making me see stars. "This is exactly what abstinent athletes need. Regular cock muscle massages to keep everything healthy."
I start bouncing again, faster now, my ass slapping against his thighs. His cock is driving into me over and over, stretching me, filling me, hitting that perfect spot inside me with every thrust.
Marcus's hands tighten on my hips, and suddenly he's helping, lifting me up and pulling me back down on his cock. His strength is incredible. He's bouncing me effortlessly, his muscles flexing, his cock driving deeper with each thrust.
"Like this?" he asks, his voice strained. "Am I doing it right? Am I being a good buddy?"
"Yes—fuck—yes—" I moan, my head falling back. "You're such a good buddy—so strong—"
"I want to help," Marcus says earnestly, still bouncing me on his cock. "I want to be the best buddy I can be. That's what we do at school—we help each other out. We're a team."
His oiled-up body is working beneath me now. His pecs are flexing with each movement, the thick muscle rippling.
The gold cross is swinging between his pecs with each thrust, a constant reminder of his innocence, his faith, his complete obliviousness to what we're actually doing.
"Tell me more about your buddies," I gasp, grinding down on his cock. "Tell me about the team."
"There's twelve of us," Marcus pants, his hips thrusting up to meet me. "All committed to staying pure. We work out together, pray together, keep each other accountable. Jake and Tyler are my roommates. Then there's Connor—he's our quarterback. And Marcus—wait, that's me." He laughs, that dumb, happy laugh. "I mean Mason. Mason's our tight end. And Derek, he's—oh fuck—"
I clench around his cock, squeezing him tight, and Marcus's words dissolve into a groan.
"They'd all love this," I moan, riding him harder. "Imagine—all twelve of you, helping each other out, keeping your cock muscles healthy. That's what real teammates do."
"Yeah," Marcus breathes, and his eyes are glazed with pleasure but still so earnest, so genuine. "Yeah, we should totally do that. We're always looking for ways to stay healthy while being abstinent. This would be perfect. We could take turns, help each other out, make sure everyone's staying in good shape for when we get married."
The image he's painting—twelve massive, dumb jocks at a Christian college, all taking turns fucking each other while genuinely believing it's health maintenance—is almost too much. My cock is leaking steadily, dripping pre-cum onto his abs.
"You should definitely suggest it," I gasp, changing my angle, grinding in circles on his cock. The sensation is overwhelming—he's so deep, so thick, hitting every spot inside me. "Tell them it's a new training technique. That it's crucial for abstinent athletes."
"I will," Marcus says eagerly. "Jake would be so into it. He's always asking me for workout advice. And Tyler—he's kind of shy but he'd probably try it if I explained how important it is."
His hands are bruising on my hips now, his grip almost painful. He's bouncing me faster, harder, his strength on full display. Each thrust drives his cock impossibly deep, the thick shaft stretching me, filling me completely.
I kiss his neck, his jaw, tasting the salt of his sweat. My hands roam over his oiled-up body—his shoulders, his arms, his abs—feeling every muscle flex and ripple beneath my touch.
"Your body is incredible," I moan against his neck. "So strong. So perfect."
"Thanks, bro," Marcus pants. "I work really hard. We all do. That's why this massage is so important—we need to take care of our bodies."
"Bounce them for me," I moan, still riding his cock.
"What?" Marcus looks confused but eager to please.
"Your pecs. Bounce them. I want to see how strong they are."
Marcus grins—that dumb, happy grin—and flexes his chest. His pecs bounce, the thick muscle jumping, rippling. Once, twice, three times. The gold cross swings with each movement.
"Fuck yes," I moan, squeezing his pecs harder. "So strong. So fucking perfect."
I'm riding him hard now, my bubble butt bouncing and jiggling with each thrust. The sound of skin slapping against skin fills the room, mixed with our moans and the wet sounds of his cock pounding into me. Sweat is dripping down my back, my chest, mixing with the oil on his body.
Marcus's breathing is getting ragged, his movements more desperate. His cock is swelling inside me, throbbing, pulsing. I can feel him getting close.
"Tell me more," I gasp, grinding down on him. "Tell me about Connor. About Mason. Would they like this?"
"Connor would love it," Marcus pants, his hips thrusting up hard. "He's always so stressed—quarterback pressure, you know? This would help him relax. And Mason—he's got a girlfriend too, waiting until marriage like me. He'd definitely need this. And Derek—oh god—Derek's got the biggest—the biggest—"
"The biggest what?" I moan, clenching around his cock.
"The biggest muscles on the team," Marcus gasps. "After me. He'd—he'd probably be really good at this. Really strong. Good at helping his buddies out."
"You should start with Jake and Tyler," I moan, bouncing faster. "Your roommates. Practice with them first. Then you can teach the rest of the team."
"Yeah," Marcus breathes, and his voice is strained, desperate. "Yeah, that's a good idea. Jake and Tyler first. Then we can show everyone else. Make sure the whole team stays healthy."
His hands slide from my hips to my ass, gripping my bubble butt, squeezing the firm flesh. He's bouncing me harder now, faster, his strength overwhelming. Each thrust drives his cock so deep I can feel it in my stomach.
I lean forward one more time, pressing my face between his massive pecs, kissing and licking the thick muscle. They're heaving with each breath, glistening with sweat and oil. I can feel his heartbeat, fast and strong, pounding beneath the muscle.
"You're such a good buddy," I moan against his chest. "So strong. So helpful. Your teammates are lucky to have you."
"I just want to help," Marcus pants, and his voice is so earnest, so genuine. "That's what buddies do. We help each other. We take care of each other."
"The best way to end a cock muscle massage," I gasp, my voice strained, "is to release inside. That's how you get the full benefit. That's how the muscle gets the deepest massage. Can you do that for me?"
"Yeah," Marcus growls, and the sound is primal, desperate. "Yeah, I can—I want to—"
He starts fucking me harder, faster. His massive body is working now, his muscles flexing, his strength on full display.
Each thrust drives his cock impossibly deep, the thick shaft stretching me, filling me, hitting my prostate over and over. The sensation is overwhelming—the fullness, the heat, the friction, the way he's completely claiming me.
I'm trying not to moan like a slut, trying to maintain some composure, but it's impossible. He's hitting every spot, stretching me, filling me completely. My cock is leaking steadily, dripping pre-cum onto his abs, adding to the mess of sweat and oil.
"Fuck—Marcus—" I moan, unable to stop myself. "So deep—so good—so thick—"
"You feel so good," Marcus pants, his hands gripping my ass, bouncing me on his cock. "So tight—so warm—is this—is this helping? Am I doing it right?"
"Yes—fuck yes—you're perfect—such a good buddy—"
Marcus's breathing is ragged now, his whole body tense. His cock is swelling inside me, throbbing, pulsing. I can feel him right on the edge.
"Jordan—" he gasps. "I'm—I'm gonna—"
"Do it," I moan, clenching around his cock. "Cum inside me—breed me—give me everything—"
Marcus slams into me one final time, burying himself balls deep, and then he's cumming. I feel it—hot and thick, flooding my insides. Wave after wave of cum, so much of it, filling me completely. His cock pulses inside me, pumping load after load deep into my body.
He's groaning loud, his whole body shaking, his grip on my ass almost painful. "Oh god—oh fuck—Jordan—so good—"
The sensation of him cumming inside me, the fullness, the heat, the way his cock is pulsing and throbbing, pushes me over the edge. My cock pulses and I'm cumming too, thick ropes of cum shooting out, painting his abs, his chest, mixing with the sweat and oil. Some of it hits his pecs, dripping down the thick muscle, coating the gold cross.
We stay frozen like that for a moment—Marcus buried deep inside me, both of us trembling, panting, completely spent. His cock is still pulsing inside me, still leaking the last drops of cum. I can feel it filling me, so much of it, warm and thick.
Finally, I lift up slowly, feeling his cock slide out of me. The sensation is intense—the drag of his thick shaft against my inner walls, the way my hole clenches around him, trying to keep him inside. The head pops out and I feel his cum immediately start leaking out of me, running down my thighs, dripping onto the bed.
I collapse beside him, both of us breathing hard, covered in sweat and cum and oil. My hole is throbbing, stretched and used, still clenching around nothing. I can feel his cum leaking out of me, so much of it, coating my thighs, soaking into the sheets.
Marcus turns his head to look at me, and he's grinning that dumb, happy grin. His face is flushed, his hair messy, his chest still heaving. "Dude, that was amazing. I feel so... relaxed. And like, healthy, you know? My cock feels great."
I can't help but laugh, even though I'm completely wrecked. "Yeah, that's the point. That's what a good cock muscle massage does."
"I should definitely try that with my buddies at school," Marcus says enthusiastically, sitting up slightly. His muscles flex as he moves, still glistening with sweat and oil.
"You absolutely should," I say, grinning.
"Yeah!" Marcus's eyes light up with genuine excitement. "I could be like the team expert. Make sure everyone's cock muscles stay healthy. That would be so cool. I'd be helping all my buddies."
He sits up fully, stretching, his muscles flexing. He looks completely satisfied, completely oblivious to what we actually just did. His cock is still semi-hard, glistening with cum and oil, resting against his thigh.
"Thanks, Jordan. Seriously. Michael was right about you—you're an awesome friend. Really helpful."
Before I can respond, the bedroom door bursts open.
Michael bounds in like an overexcited puppy, his face lighting up when he sees us. "Jordan! Marcus! You guys are hanging out!"
He jumps onto the bed between us, laughing, completely oblivious to the fact that we're both naked, covered in sweat and cum, the room reeking of sex.
"I feel so left out!" Michael says, pouting playfully. "You guys were playing games without me!"
Marcus laughs, ruffling Michael's hair. "Sorry, little bro. Jordan was just teaching me some massage techniques. It was really cool."
"Massage techniques?" Michael's eyes light up. "Oh! Like the ones you taught me! Those are the best!"
I catch Marcus's eye, and we both grin.
"Yeah," I say, reaching over to ruffle Michael's hair too. "Exactly like those. Maybe next time we can all practice together."
Michael's face lights up even more. "Really? That would be awesome! The three of us helping each other out!"
"Definitely," Marcus says, still grinning. "That's what buddies are for, right?"
"Right!" Michael agrees enthusiastically.
I lie back on the bed, flanked by both brothers—these two massive, beautiful, completely oblivious puppies—and I can't help but smile.
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