|« PREV||INDEX||NEXT »|
Big is Better
|I looked up again into his piercing iridescent eyes and smiled. When I got his attention, I looked down at my crotch deliberately.
"Besides Sam, you're not the only one here who God seems to have made a bit different, remember?"
Sam's eyes followed mine down. I rubbed my palm suggestively around the crotch of my sweatpants, emphasizing my point.
"Believe me - this seems to scare guys, too. Like you, there are some things that I can just do. So you see, we each break the normal rules, Sam."
Sam's eyes gazed over again as he watched my roving hand. "So - how big ARE you really, Pete?"
Sensing this sudden promising change, I went along with this new topic without directly addressing his question. Instead, I gave him a very abridged discourse on the subject of `The Origin of The Genitals'; specifically, my own of course.
"Sam, I think a part of me never wanted to know that. I've never measured myself. Someone told me once that's just a form of self- denial. Maybe by keeping myself in the dark about that real number, I can always tell myself I'm not `all THAT big'... that I'm not THAT much of a sideshow freak. Honestly - I really don't know."
Sam caught me unexpectedly with one of his blunt and often topic- twisting questions.
"Can I put a tape measure on it sometime, huh? I sure wanna know, even if you don't! That'd be so hot! I promise that I'd never tell ya either, if you really don't wanna know. It'll be a secret."
Just the thought of my being `taped' instantly brought up old feelings of humiliation, which I tried to counter by remembering that Sam also saw `size' as a gift, not the curse I typically did. But I still flushed with embarrassment nevertheless and continued as if I'd never heard his question.
"... and my dick doesn't seem to even work the way that other guys' do. I remember telling you some of this before, Sam. Getting a big boner seems to take me longer. If I get too excited too fast, I get really dizzy."
"I went to see a doctor once just to ask him why `all of this,'" I said, squeezing my bountiful basket. "But what I didn't tell you was that I hated the size of all this stuff. I was hoping that medical science could... well... do something to make me more like other guys. That doctor did a lot of tests on me. He told me that I had a lot more of certain hormones than other guys. He explained that some of these hormones control how hung a guy gets when he hits puberty. It's all something I genetically inherited, I guess. Sam, I started growing these balls when I was just 9 years old for Pete's sake!"
Sam interrupted me. "Maybe you grew `em for Sam's sake, Pete. I'd like to think that maybe that was the Good Lord's plan all along. You've got some terrific genes in them jeans! If I was the judge, I'd certainly be givin' those big melons of yours ALL the blue ribbons! That means they's the biggest and best! So did that doc tell ya `bout why you get such a whopper when you're turned-on?"
"Yeah, he did, actually, if you want to know. He said that the size of a man's erection depends on the amount of something he called `spongy tissue.' The amount of spongy tissue that develops in puberty is controlled by some hormone. I've forgotten the name if it now, but anyway... my cock's got more of that spongy stuff than most guys - a real lot more too, I guess. There were other unusual things about me that he'd mentioned that I don't remember now. But the bottom line was - there's no safe medical procedure that could make any of me `smaller'. He even laughed when I'd asked him if there was such a thing as a `dick-reduction' or a `ball-tuck' for men. In fact, his words were something like, `You're Superman, Pete. Enjoy it!' Well I've tried to, but that was easier said than done, Sam."
Sam was acting lustfully intrigued with this new topic of conversation. I suppose that he was just trying to make me feel good in his own way, but his results would be somewhat mixed.
"Gives me the shivers Pete just thinkin' that you woulda even considered doin' that to yourself! I sure treasures every bit of what The Lord done gave me - and what He gave you, too! I bet it feels mighty incredible fuckin' with such a big pole, right?"
Sam's last comment knocked me slightly off-base again.
"It's... it's something I sure dream about all the time, anyway. So yes. I think so," I responded hesitantly.
Sam picked up on my uncertainty. "Don't ya know? You must've fucked before, ain't that right, Pete?"
Gees, hit a man when he's down, why don't `cha? That was a sore spot with me. Perhaps it was only because I was under his handsome spell at that moment - the influence of still being firmly surrounded by that big arm of his, too - that I told him the real story.
"Technically? Well sorta... maybe. Don't laugh, but I think I did it once - with a woman. It was kinda quick though. The first time was last year. My roomy John decided I needed to officially get laid. He got me drunk and brought me to a whorehouse. I was shit- faced - but horny to the point of desperation. That lady had a set of GIGANTIC tits though, Sam. They were so oversized that I think I even got turned-on feeling them. That whore really had to work hard though, even with that professionally-sized pussy of hers. I was so horny that I was shooting my load off in 3 seconds. But she had some intense orgasms herself while I was cumming. She even said that I was some kind of first for her. She took a couple snapshots. But she really liked me a lot - told me to come back anytime I wanted. She'd take care of all my `manly needs' free-of-charge."
Sam began alternately running his fingers playfully through my hair and stroking my head again with his massive paw. I was beginning to really like that particular habit of his, too. It sure made me feel amazingly warm inside. And judging from that sexy bulge in his own sweatpants, my appeals to Sam's more primitive hormonal instincts were also beginning to work.
"I can surely understand why she did," Samson said, gazing down at my groin with a renewed twinkle in his eyes. "So - did you ever fuck a guy, Pete?"
I suddenly regretted having started this conversational ball rolling. I might have even welled up just contemplating the sorry truth, but I was too prideful to ever let Sam see me cry. I swallowed those feelings hard and responded in the most matter-of- fact, `coolest' way that I could.
"Guys have certainly tried, but technically - the answer is probably no, not really...."
"Ain't no such thing as too big. The bigger, the better. Your big equipment is sexy, Pete. It's the sexiest I ever seen on any man - anywhere - anytime - ever! Those big `ol balls - they make me go all weak in the knees. Seein' your cock just blowin' up like one of them clown balloons - nothin's ever turned me on that much. You'd make any of them male porno stars green with envy. You's one in a million, Pete. I've never felt my blood boil like it does when I'm even near ya. Hey, I kinda like that Superman handle your doc gave you, too. It's sounds positive - a lot better than freak. It fits you! Would ya mind if I called ya SUPERMAN?"
I should have been flattered, but the idea also seemed so immediately ridiculous that I fought not to laugh. I usually avoided looking at myself in my bathroom mirror any longer than was absolutely necessary. Even when I used the mirror for grooming purposes such as shaving, I'd focus only on the task at hand without looking at myself at all; in fact, I'd raised that to an art form.
And now I couldn't help but look over at the reflection of Sam and me standing literally side-by-side in that mirrored wall. It's said that mirrors don't lie. Our reflections spoke a stark truth which I already knew intellectually. I just never wanted to see the actual photographic proof. Well seeing is believing, and what I was seeing stunned me. The mirror reflected without bias the true magnitude of our physical differences - and the extremes were actually comical. I'd always been a runt, but at least I'd come to regard my body as still better than average. I had a beefy build, with wide shoulders and a trim waist. My lack of height may have even exaggerated these characteristics to my benefit.
But gazing at myself beside Sam in that mirror - it was impossible not to make the inevitable comparisons. The critic in my head started to have a field day, wreaking havoc with my tenuous self- esteem. The mirror showed me a Side Show couple. The giant and the dwarf. Compared with Sam's, my masculine physique was essentially amorphous. The delineation between man and boy was shockingly evident. I glanced over at the velvet masterpiece of Sam's parents hanging on the wall, the one I'd assumed was a portrait of a father with his daughter before I'd noticed the similar ages of their faces. At least proportionately, a portrait of Sam and I would have looked virtually identical and equally bizarre. And standing right beside him, I could easily be mistaken for his offspring, too.
"Just take a look at me standing next to you over there, Sam," I said, gesturing towards the mirror. "Hell, I'm not even 6' tall on my tip toes! Look at the size of me compared with you, too. See your arm right there next to mine? It's bigger than my whole leg! You're could fit 4 of me inside of you! I don't think Superman fits me. Other guys would look puny next to you - but I look like kid, and a little boy at that. You are the MAN, Sam."
Sam's face beamed a little, and he was getting friskier again.
"Yeah, maybe I sees your point, least when you're wearin' clothes anyhow. But I thinks you's really a genuine wonder, boy. Say, how's `bout Superboy, maybe? Is that O.K.?"
I knew we were just kidding around with words, but I suddenly felt something more was going on here. Call it a different kind of energy. And I was starting to enjoy this boy-man dialogue - almost getting off on it a little.
"You can call me that... or just boy, if you want, Sam...."
Sam raised one eyebrow. "You sayin' that you'd wanna be my boy, Pete? Like we's sorta related by flesh `n' blood?"
"I mean we can't really be - but yeah - sure. You can pretend if you want, right? Besides, who wouldn't want to be YOUR boy? I sure would anyway...."
I was being - quite literally - patronizing, but Sam seemed remarkably receptive to this whole crazy new energy, too.
"Ain't no one ever said nothin' like that `bout me. That there's real special, Pete, what ya said. Wow. That's sorta givin' me the shivers. It's a strange feelin', but it's kinda nice! Wow... `My boy.' That's got a powerful ring to it! Makes me feel... woof... real protective, and all...."
The big arm draped across my back suddenly swept me around to the front of his massive body. Sam pulled me in tightly, nuzzling my body firmly up against one very manly boner indeed. Apparently the shivers weren't the only thing this unexpectedly sexy energy was giving Sam. I figured it was a safe bet that he didn't understand the almost incestuous implications of this name game. He might not even know the meaning of the word - and I definitely was not about to be educating him either. Sam was uncomplicated, and I liked that quality about him. Eventually I'd grow to even love that part of him very much.
"So if you're MY boy, then who am I?" Sam asked, squeezing me affectionately a few times to hopefully entice me to respond in the spirit of this new game. Sam's little expression of affection could force the air right out of a guy's lungs!
I hoarsely squeeked, "Well, I guess that makes you sorta MY Dad, huh?"
"Yep, I guess it does at that," Sam grinned. "I'd be a mighty proud Dad havin' a Superboy like you. I'd want everybody to know how super my boy really is, if he'd just let me measure!"
I had to give Sam major points for relentless perseverance anyway, but I shot him a look communicating in no uncertain terms my lack of amusement.
"Oooo, sorry," he replied with a meek grin. "You can't blame me for tryin', Pete, can ya? So where was I? Oh yeah - I could be your Dad... or even your big Muscle Dad if you want."
Yep - that'll definitely work, I thought. This word game was getting as strangely hot as it was increasingly juvenile, and I'd go along for the ride. I pulled back from Sam so he could see all of me. Then I put my hands around my crotch, pulling the baggy material taut by pressing it back against my thighs, revealing the full contour of my well-camouflaged basket.
"Do you mean that you'd want your kid to walk around in public looking like this?" I grinned, just fooling of course.
Sam didn't seem as amused as he did more spellbound.
"That's one big, beautiful, sexy bulge. W-O-W! You must be murder on a jock!"
Ouch! An old memory stung me again momentarily. But since we had some positive momentum going - weird as that was - I thought it best not to get into my high school jockstrap stories.
"So how big did you say your cock really gets again... boy?"
When Sam latched onto something, he was like a bulldog on a bone - and in this case, mine.
"I didn't say... Dad."
Just referring to Sam as `Dad' aloud sounded surprisingly playful and sexy to me.
"But like I told you before, the longer I can hold off cumming, the bigger it gets. Other guys are at full mast in less than a minute. I don't know how long it honestly takes me to set all my sails fully. I never waited around to find out - and besides, no guy ever wanted it even bigger than it already was."
The new tenting in Sam's own sweatpants told me this was working. I was slowly learning that any discussion concerning my cock, no matter how seemingly dry or academic, just arouses him instantly and automatically. Reciprocally, Sam's physique had the same power over me, though I wasn't sure that he yet understood how uncontrollably.
"Pete, I ain't never been no Dad before to anyone... but I sure wants to be the very best Muscle Daddy you ever had! If you could choose a Dad - I mean, like he'd be everythin' you ever wanted - what would he be like? That'd help me know how I'm supposed to be around... my boy."
This seemed more like the child educating the parent, but I realized it was also an unexpected opportunity to deliver the `coeur de grace' to get my party on track again. Of course I'd have to somehow manage to keep a straight face while embarrassing myself at the same time. My plan called for making a powerful appeal to my particular Muscle Daddy's best - and unusual - fatherly instincts.
"OK, Sam. Well, I guess this would describe my ideal `Dad.' My ideal Dad is a real Muscle Daddy. No other guys have muscles as big as my Dad's - and he's amazingly strong, too. That makes him really special. And nothing excites me more than just watching my Dad lifting weights. When I see my Dad's muscles getting hard and enormously pumped up, I almost go crazy with excitement. I get an enormous boner. That makes my Dad feel really good too, knowing that his boy gets a big cock just from lookin' at him liftin'. My Dad makes me just HUGE. My Dad's goal is always for both of us to get even bigger. He's always lifting more and more weight - breaking new records - so naturally I'm setting new records of my own. And when my Dad's done with his workout, he gets off on showing me his big, hard muscles. He just enjoys flexing for me, I guess. Being a Muscle Dad just comes naturally to him. I like to squeeze my Muscle Dad's enormous pumped bi's. They take my breath away, and that always makes my cock pump up even more. I like that part especially - while I'm feeling his enormous arms, my Muscle Daddy feels my big muscle and plays with my big balls. That always gets him real excited too, so we both get big hard-ons! Then my Muscle Dad spends a lot more time with me, making sure I'm getting a good, proper sex education, too. I've got incredible stamina just like my Dad, so he can really teach me a lot of different things at once. Then we practice them over and over again ... all night long...."
I had enormous difficulty at times just keeping a straight face while I was delivering that long juvenile monologue. But far from laughing himself - Sam was just staring at me in total silence and looking surprisingly smitten with it all. The prominent hard-on visible through his sweatpants also gave supporting testimony to his enchanted state of mind. And Sam's erection was astonishingly perfectly proportioned relative to his immense body. That had never been the case with other of the bigger guys I'd seen in the gym locker room on occasion. Sam's endowment would more than impress any man. In absolute terms, it was a very big cock. That slab of beef I saw now in his pants was as Grade-A Prime as the man who owned it. I took that as a very good sign that the my party was getting back on course again.
"Maybe this parentin' stuff ain't so hard after all! Bein' your Dad sure ain't gonna be nearly as tough as I reckoned, Pete... err... I means `boy.' I'm a qualified great Muscle Daddy! And right now - this Dad wants to get huge for his boy. I mean that. Huge-er than your wildest dreams. But I want ya to remember a few things I'm gonna tell you before I start, O.K. boy?"
I affirmed that with another nod of my head.
"These are sorta `the rules,' Pete. You can talk to me, but don't do a lot of yellin', OK? Try to keep the volume down. Yellin' distracts me too much. If you grabs onto me real hard - or shakes me - anything real physical - that distracts me, too. So ya probably'll wanna think about how much you go touchin' me."
"I got it, Sam. I understand." I reciprocated by reaching up to mess up his own hair now. "That'll be torture, but I'll hold off... well, as long as I can stand it, anyway."
Sam smiled broadly. "Well, it's just so's I can be real presentable when ya finally grabs me, boy. I wanna get `specially enormous-sized for your birthday!" His eyes were twinkling steadily again like stars in the night sky.
I smiled as I offered Sam a similar word of caution. "Well Sam, you just don't touch me either until I'm presentable too, OK? I'm going to try to get as big as I can, too. It's not something I've tried to ever set as some goal, but I will - for you."
"I just know that I'm ya remember this night for the rest of my life, boy," Sam replied with a smug confidence. "You can follow me around here," he said gesturing around his private gym space, "and watch all ya want. As a matter of fact, I'd like ya to stay close by me, so's I can see you!"
Then Sam suddenly hit me with one of his trademark specialties from right out of the blue.
"You can get naked now, boy, and then just follow me around."
"What? You mean right now?" I felt that nauseating wave of self- consciousness again, the same as when Sam asked me to just `drop trow' some hours ago up in his living room.
He grinned. "Yep - now would be just fine. I'm gonna be doin' serious heavy-duty liftin', so I'll really be appreciatin' you motivatin' me to the max."
Reflexively, I attempted to dissuade Sam's interest. "I thought you didn't pay much attention when this `thing' is happening to you."
"Oh, I can see evereything. I might not look like I'm payin' attention sometimes. But trust me, boy. That hot body of yours W-O- W-S me!"
Yeah sure. Right. That did it. I burst out laughing, leaving Sam looking a bit bewildered.
"What? Ya don't believe me, Pete? You just don't get it yet, do you. You're HOT. See, you're the guy that I been seein' in my dreams. Everythin' `bout you - your body, that bulldog build, your face, your huge totem pole - Pete, you light up my furnace! But I can't see nothin' through them damn sweats of mine that you're wearin'. Believe me - I wanna be t-o-t-a-l-l-y inspired."
Then a light bulb went off in Sam's head as he thought up the final, convincing logical argument. Well it was `Sam style' logic, anyway.
"Besides, it's your birthday, boy. You should be wearin' your birthday suit to the party!" With puppy dog eyes that were saying, `please, please, please,' Sam gently tugged on my sweatpants a few times just to make sure I understood his wishes.
Well my reticence faded fast. Sam was mighty persuasive in his own unique way. He also sure could stroke my wavering ego, at just the right moments. I kicked off my sneakers, pulled off my socks, and then awkwardly fumbled to undo the knotted clothesline still tied around my waist. The bigtop plummeted to my ankles as soon the knot was released. Sam did the rest. He reached for the arms of my sweatshirt, then started to pull them up. I yielded, lifting my arms high over my head so he could complete the chore. And there I stood, dressed in what Sam considered the perfect Birthday Party attire - nothing at all.
Sam surveyed my buck-nakedness with unmistakable relish. My cock was at least in a perpetually semi-aroused state whenever Sam was in my sights anyway, so it already hung robustly between my legs. In short, I had das Schwein. That's what I called a hog or a `semi' back then, anyway. Conveniently for Sam and embarrassingly for me, my groin was also spot-lit by an unfortunately-positioned overhead light. Sam knelt down to get a closer look at Porky and the Twins which brought us still not quite eye-to-eye. Sam stared at my illuminated privates with his mouth partially opened for awhile, occasionally running his tongue around his lips.
I was becoming more aware that Sam had an unusual but very consistent way of making me feel good about my size, once I got over my old built-in reticence about exposing myself. Maybe it was partly in the way his big eyes opened wide. Maybe it was they way they always got glassy. Maybe it was the way he quietly gurgled and cooed with such obvious pleasure and approval. Maybe it was the way he commented bluntly on the size of my equipment with such undeniably lusty admiration. But whatever the reasons, all I know is that I sort of enjoyed showing him my equipment like this, because it clearly excited him just as much as his incredible physique excited me.
"Wow. That's already what I calls serious motivation," he said approvingly. "Now I'm gonna make sure you knows without a doubt who's your real Muscle Daddy!"
|« PREV||INDEX||NEXT »|
This collection was originally created as a compressed archive for personal offline viewing
and is not intended to be hosted online or presented in any commercial context.
Any webmaster choosing to host or mirror this archive online
does so at their sole discretion.
Archive Version 070326