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Big is Better
The Whole Nine Yards
|Sam pressed his body completely over mine. I'd never had a man so
literally `all over me' before. I felt like a mini-sub trying to
surface beneath a battleship. I'd say that Sam crushed me under his
massive frame - most certainly he could have - but the experience was
anything but unpleasant. More like a warm blanket on a cold winter's
night. Every inch of my body was in contact with some part of his,
from the top of my head to the tips of my toes. He both cuddled and
caressed all of me using his own massive physique with amazing
dexterity. Two extremely contrasting sensations enveloped me: like
being covered by a great slab of hard granite - yet by a soft,
fleshy, and warm furry puppy. Exhilaration spurred arousal
throughout my body. But never once did I feel even slightly
suffocated underneath all of his extreme weight. I don't know how
Sam even did it, but he was clearly the supreme master of his own
enormous body. He controlled his hulking physique with the precision
of a pianist's fingers and managed to somehow keep the vast bulk of
his weight off of me. Our contact remained decidedly firm but always
within the bounds of pure pleasure - and it drove me wild with desire.
Yet I was also intrigued by the odd thought that I was `pinned' beneath a man who, if he'd chose to, could have relaxed his full body weight and snuffed the life from me on the spot; and I would be absolutely powerless to stop him. So it wasn't so much the feeling of dying in the arms of your man as dying from them perhaps that was oddly erotic. Then I felt Sam's rough beard and warm wet kisses appearing and disappearing randomly on places all over of my body, and I knew that I'd never be safer in any other man's arms.
Sam's mouth eventually found its way to my own in the darkness. But as my eyes adjusted, I began to slowly make out the bold contours of Sam's physique back-lit by the blue moonlight filtering through a bedroom window. As Sam subtly shifted his body over my own, I saw the silhouettes of giant sand dunes appearing and disappearing as if they were drifting in a desert wind. But beyond that, I could still actually see very little. My relative sensory depravation though seemed to heighten my tactile awareness of his utterly sweet lips. The lips of any man on my body was new territory to me, their exploration and discoveries exhilarating. His lips commanded my complete attention. And what that monster of a man could do with that mouth was as marvelous as what he could do both to - and with - his body. The Big Blue Ox kissed like Romeo reincarnated - warmly, wetly, tenderly, deeply and passionately. I'd never been kissed that way before by anyone, let alone a man. And what I experienced laying beneath him during those next gratefully long minutes also ruined me for any other man.
In retrospect, if there was ever a single defining moment when Sam cast his lifelong spell on me - it was right then and there. While undeniably alluring in their own right, it wasn't his immensely- muscled physique or even his Herculean strength that worked the voodoo. Understand: it was simply the way he kissed me that night. And to take some share of the responsibility, I think it was also maybe the way that I kissed him back. But when we kissed, it was as though it was our very first. And the real magic is that every kiss ever since has felt the same way.
Sam rested his elbows on the mattress over the tops of my shoulders. He wrapped his meaty drumsticks around my head, surrounding it like a football helmet - and held it gently in his big opened paws, stroking it and occasionally running his fingers through my hair. And then he simply enchanted me, using the incredible sensuality of his entire male face. I never had a chance and I think he knew that, too. He didn't play me like a fiddle; he played me like the whole orchestra. He began with his hot, wet lips slowly tracing their way around my own, alternately nibbling and kissing at mine ever-so-lightly. He'd change routes on occasion and begin to similarly kiss my forehead, eyes and cheeks sweetly. Sometimes Sam would tenderly nuzzle and rub his cheek or chin on parts of my face. The contrast between feeling the softness of his lips alternating the roughness of his masculine beard made things bounce and spin inside me and ricochet back off his immobilizing physique. And from there, his kisses grew only wetter, wilder and hotter, eventually involving all parts of his mouth and my own in the act. The man has the tongue of an anteater! It could have been a masterfully executed demonstration of every technique used in applying virtually foolproof mouth-to-mouth resuscitation. Not only was he successful in reviving me many multiple times over, but by the time Sam was finished I was also fairly convinced that he could also resurrect the dead.
Not only were my overly healthy hormones surging ever higher, but there was also no limit even yet in sight. That rubber that I'd been wearing for what seemed to be an eternity hung on to me for dear life. I really couldn't take it any longer either. Discomfort had become outright pain, impossible to ignore any longer.
"Sam, why don't you get off of me for a minute, OK? Just lie by my side here. I want you to see something. I think you might even like this...."
Without any hesitation, Sam shifted his massive weight and rolled his body off of me, lying on his side and snuggling up against me. He reached over to my far side and gently pulled me tightly against him, leaving his freakishly-sized arm contentedly draped across my chest. I said `chest', but the thickness of his arm effectively covered a portion of my upper abdomen as well as my ribcage. Without thought, I began stroking his arm with my hands, running them lightly back and forth slowly across his forearm and over the top of his upper arm, tracing all of the stunning contours and veins with my fingertips. Meanwhile, Sam was keeping another muscle well-pumped by slowly moving his hips to hump my outer thigh, or he'd rotate them to rub his tube-steak playfully all over my leg. I could feel the individual hairs on his tree-trunk-sized thighs brushing against my own hot skin. That feeling alone screamed `what a hunk `o man' to me. However, that was just the frosting. The cake was one scrumptious piece of meat, and exactly the way I liked it best; beefy, like the man himself. This stud could rub his man-muscle against me anytime - anywhere - that he wanted. Woof!
My eyes had continued to adjust, and I was gradually able to see better in that pale moonlight. I cranked my head around to quickly survey his bedroom and noticed that the wall behind the headboard of the bed was also mirrored. That reflected some of the light coming in through the window around the room, making it a bit brighter.
"What `cha want me to see, Pete?" Sam asked quizzically, still doing the doggy-thing to my leg.
I was flat on my back, eyeing the one-eyed Cyclops that arched over my stomach and stared right back at me. A cock that big and still lacking `the human touch' at this point should have been grounded by its own weight, lying big, fat and happy right on my stomach. But my behemoth was airborne and flying rather well on it's own; occasionally bobbing slowly as if hitting pockets of turbulence every now and then like a dirigible.
"So, should I be doin' somethin', Pete?" Sam asked excitedly, with an almost boyish innocence about it, too.
"Well from the look of things, probably not much more at all," I said with a grin. "You got me so hot I need some more maneuvering room. See, my quarters are getting too cramped. It's kinda dark in here. Can you see what I mean, OK?"
"Even a blind man could see what `cha mean," Sam chortled back. "I got great night-vision anyway, Pete. My Ma always said I had the eyes of a jungle cat at night. I can just spot a great cock a mile away even with a New Moon!"
"Well... err... that's good, Sam. Right now you only got one cock you need to be `spottin'. This is all your fault anyway, so why don't you just go ahead and finish the job, Sam. This damn rubber HURTS!"
"Ya want me to just take it off for you?"
"Yes. Absolutely. Well, figuratively speaking anyway. P-L-E-A-S-E DO! You won't have to use your hands either."
Sam looked very puzzled indeed. "You mean I can't touch it?"
I'll tell you, at times the big lug could totally exasperate me.
"Jeez, Sam - give a guy a break sometime! What I mean is - you don't have to even touch it to get it off."
But still Sam looked confused. Finally, I just shot him a real deep scowl, as if to tell him, "Samson. If you REALLY don't have a clue by now...."
Sam pondered over this a bit longer before a light bulb finally flickered somewhere inside of that vast head of his. I could almost hear the circus trumpet blare the finale notes `Ta DAAH!' as his mental slot machine hit all cherries. He tucked his chin down and gave me a coy little smirk, as if he'd just successfully read my mind. It wasn't an expression I'd never seen before, but it was so outright sexy that thrilling shivers suddenly race up and down my spine - and I lustfully anticipated the eminent, final demise of my latex nemesis. Sam lifted his arm off my chest slightly and then extended it completely - straight-out - and rotated his wrist so that his palm of his opened hand faced the ceiling. Sam turned his head and studied his arm. I watched him curl his fingers up into a big claw, as if he was wrapping them around an invisible softball resting in his hand. Then it looked like he was squeezing the ball harder and harder. The effect on the rest of his arm was immediate and absolutely stunning. His meaty forearm instantly formed into a giant muscular drumstick covered entirely with thick veins. The giants in his upper arm rose to the occasion as well, transforming themselves instantly into granite-like sculptures. On the top, the monstrous belly of his biceps solidified into a absolutely perfect horizontal cylinder. It looked like a large fire extinguisher suddenly appearing beneath his skin; on the bottom, his triceps coalesced into a magnificently bulging crescent horse-shoe.
Sam looked back at me again to check how I was doing so far, and to watch my reaction while he slowly rotated his extended arm at the shoulder, letting me see all of it from different angles. It was a Grey's Anatomy carved in monolithic stone. Seeing my hypnotized gaze unwaveringly riveted on his arm, Sam knew he definitely was on the right track. A quick glance at my even fatter, throbbing and bobbing salami would have also confirmed he was making a sizeable impression.
I directly encouraged him to continue. "Could you make a muscle, Sam? Yeah, make a real BIG muscle...."
"Anythin' you want. But just remember to breathe too, Pete. I sure don't wanna lose ya now."
He opened his hand briefly and then folded his fingers in one-by-one into an iron fist, and then brought his huge forearm up to present me with his fully-flexed, giant boulder. And to me, his biceps was the penultimate in stupefyingly-pumped muscle. In both size and shape, inhuman in its perfection. His was a Jupiter, whether that meant the mighty Titan planet or the King of the Gods on Mt. Olympus. Both applied equally well. I'd have fallen to my knees but I was already flat on my back.
My heart-rate increased dramatically and all that blood was flowing right to my cock. I was suffering one of those awkward adolescent grow spurts, where a part of a guy's body temporarily grows out of proportion to the rest.
"Is this big enough for you, Pete? Pete?? Breathe, Pete. Take a breath."
I took his concerned advice and sucked in a lung-full of air. "It's... so... mindblowing! Your bi's bigger than a basketball. I mean it's - literally - bigger than a fuckin' basketball!"
Sam went directly for the slam-dunk.
"Glad you appreciate the size of a man's muscles. Go ahead. Feel it. Feel it all you want. I'm a real strong guy. Yeah, that's good. Try to squeeze it now. It's real big, boy. Hard as stone, huh? I'm glad my big muscles get ya so excited. Bet `cha never thought you'd ever feel a muscle this huge. Yeah, that's it. Keep runnin' those hands all over it. I like the way that feels... you runnin' your hands all over my big arm. Is this givin' you a huge cock, boy? Sure hope so. I want my boy extra-big for me. Here, let me pump my arm for you now, so's you can see what that feels like, too."
Sam began flexing his Titan repeatedly so I could feel it stretch and peak magnificently. Meanwhile, he turned his attention back to my overgrowing fleshy manhood. I had the most powerful aphrodisiac in the world right in my hands, my cock inflating more with every heartbeat. With my hands still rubbing and squeezing his gigantic granite sphere, I closed my eyes and let my nature take its inevitable course.
Only a few seconds later... Z-A-P!!! The rubber had simply vanished as if it was never there at all. The shattered latex few off somewhere into the darkness in less than the blink of an eye.
"You did it! Score!" I yelled out more-than-approvingly, grateful to feel the tremendous instant relief as well.
Sam was still staring dumbfoundedly at the results of my parlor trick. "Wow!! In my life... I never seen no one who could EVER do THAT! WOW... that's AMAZIN'! You dun got me all wet in the pants, boy! That there's the hotrod to end all hotrods! You's a STALLION!"
I blushed in the shadows. "I guess that I'm just hung up on you, big guy. Well, I did it - I'm certified FREAKY big now. So there - it's all yours, Sam. I can't see how any guy would want this jumbo-sized freak though."
"Well, ya like me jumbo-sized, don't `cha? Your jumbo-sized mantool's sooooo SEXY! Bigger is HOTTER!"
"So you can play with it now... if you want to, Sam. That's all it's good for - a basic hand job. But don't take me wrong though. Being jerked off - that'll be the greatest!" "Now, what kinda man would I be if I got `cha all this excited and just gave ya some cheap hand job. It's your birthday party, boy! I gotta show my favorite boy all the great things he can do with his great big `ol wanger. I want that huge meat, boy. I ain't never wanted anything so bad. I'm gonna make sure ya knows you DEFINITELY ain't no virgin no more, either."
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