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|And so it went for the next few months. John and Kenny lived in bliss and were the envy of... well, of everybody. They hosted mall openings, served as kings of gay balls and posed for photographers for one reason or another. Their absorption in each other was total. No one got between John and Kenny. Their friends adored them and were adored in return.
In bed, John was nonpareil. He used his invasive psychological techniques on Kenny continuously, drawing out the boy's emotions, enhancing them, intensifying them until they exploded in orgasm even as his body did. Their love enveloped them, consumed them. Neither of them looked at other men.
John, with the dimwitted short-sightedness of most males, did not yet understand the nature of their relationship. He had not realized yet that their stupendous sex life proceeded not from an insatiable lust for Kenny but for himself. It was his own body that excited him to endless new perversity. The play of his muscles, his inhuman strength, the unceasing resurgent power of his cock sent him into raptures of sexual passion that had to be gratified, had to be discharged. It was himself he fucked, and himself he loved and worshipped.
But we are getting ahead of ourselves.
One night, they returned from a party in the wee hours. Stopping by the kitchen, they found a bag of garbage sitting out.
"That Lamont," John said under his breath. He had arranged with Kenny to allow Lamont to return to do housework and cook. This was strictly a non-live-in position. Lamont had agreed to it with puppy-like devotion.
"Lamont's off today, John. You know that."
"I'll take it out."
"No, I want you to go into the bedroom and prepare. I'll take it out."
Kenny smiled secretively. "Yes, sir."
John walked down the four flights of stairs and out back to the dumpster. Some time soon he would have to move out of this apartment building, find something bigger, more glamorous. Of course, that would require a bigger, more glamorous income and he presently had none. He knew his savings, and Kenny's, were dwindling rapidly. Something would have to be done soon. But he wasn't worried. He knew whatever dilemma faced him, he would triumph over it. When he needed more money, he would have it. The world could deny him nothing.
When he returned to his floor, he saw a figure out of the corner of his eye at the end of the corridor. He turned and found Mr. Bel standing there, calmly smoking. He was not smiling.
"Mr. Bel!" he exclaimed. How he had wanted to see him again, to thank him! He walked towards him. As he did, Mr. Bel turned and went around the corner out of sight. John broke into a trot and rounded the corner a few seconds later. Mr. Bel was not there. But Kevin was.
John had not seen much of Kevin since Kenny came into his life. He looked very fine. He was wearing a tank top and black Spandex biking pants. His helmet was under his arm. Covered in sweat, he struggled with the key in his door.
"Kevin," John said.
"Hey, John. Been out biking with my girl friend."
"So I see."
"Still looking good."
"And you. You look... fantastic."
John could see how Kevin could score so many women. What a body! Long and lean, but with the muscles thick and pumped, not stringy. He was a real vision. The tousled black hair added to the image of casual seductiveness. He looked as if he'd just hopped out of bed after fucking three women. And that ass! It sat high on the pelvis, just the way John liked it, round and solid. Kevin would be more than welcome in the Golden Circle if it weren't for his unfortunate birth defect: he was straight. John felt his cock tingle.
"C'mon in," Kevin said.
Kevin's apartment looked like a locker room, which it essentially was. He hung his bike from two hooks in the living room wall.
"Want a beer?"
"Sure, man," John said with undetected irony.
Kevin tossed him a beer from the refrigerator. They cleared a space on Kevin's popcorn-strewn couch and sat down for some man talk. Kevin sat with ankle on knee, straight guy style. John sat with his legs spread, his bulging crotch pointed directly at his friend.
"How's life?" John said.
"Not bad. You?"
Kevin smiled. "You guys. Always fucking."
"Always. You too, as I recall."
"Yeah, not so much lately. My girl friend isn't as into it as I'd like."
"Girl friend. I've never heard this term come out of your mouth before. Aren't girl friends the ones who come back more than once?"
Kevin grimaced. "Ha ha. Very funny. I've been seeing her for about three months. Beautiful. Funny. Intelligent. She's everything I want, man."
"How come you guys never say, 'I want a girl with big tits?' It's always intelligence and a sense of humor."
Kevin laughed. "Right, man. You got it." Like most straight men, Kevin was utterly incapable of understanding that gay men didn't really think about women the same way he did.
They sat and talked of nothing, in the style of men. They traded information. They complained about the condition of the building. John stared with penetrating interest at Kevin, wondering if it would be possible.
"Man, this shirt is soaked." Kevin peeled off his tank top.
John's cock surged. He quickly crossed his legs so that Kevin could not see it climbing up his thigh.
"Yeah, it's hot in here." He took off his shirt as well. His mind swirled with erotic thoughts of himself and Kevin. He concentrated mightily, trying to project his lust into Kevin's mind.
"Man, look at that," Kevin said. He pressed his fingers against the thick arcuation of John's pectorals. "Giant man."
"Yeah, I'm big." John knew he needed to make a move or leave. He was about to lose control. "You ever do it with a boy, Kevin?"
Kevin choked on his beer. "What!"
"You heard me."
"Hell, no. No, not me, man."
"You never thought about it? You don't find men attractive at all?"
"Attractive. Well, sure, I can see if a guy's good-looking. But it doesn't give me a hard-on, if that's what you mean."
John thought of all the gay stories he had heard over the years about seducing straight men. He had never given them much credence, but know he wondered if they were true. He wanted them to be true. His cock was now fully hard and ached with pleasure.
"The Kinsey Report said some huge percentage of straight men had experimented with homosexuality at some point in their lives."
"I believe it," Kevin said with what John perceived as a rather disciplined calm.
Kevin shifted position, crossing his legs at he crotch. "Sure. Men find each other attractive in a vague kind of way. It comes out in funny places. Like at the end of sports competitions. All that butt-grabbing and kissing."
"And in prison," John added.
"Well, yeah. But that's because no women are available."
"Look at your body, for instance. You wouldn't stay in that kind of shape if you didn't admire other guy's physiques."
Kevin looked down at himself with pride. Like most straight athletes, he loved his own body. "Yeah, I see your point. But nobody's in the shape you're in, John. You're the buffest of the buff. You really pumped up this year."
"Tired of being ignored."
"I hear you. Want another beer?"
"Love one." When Kevin stood to walk to the kitchen, John saw the hard bulge in his Spandex shorts. That was all the signal he needed. He rose as well and leaned on the kitchen door jamb, his erection plainly in view.
Kevin tossed him a beer. "That's why straight men are so scared of you guys."
"We've all got this little bit of it in us. When we see guys like you, who live in it, you scare the hell out of us, you know?"
John stared into his blue eyes. "Are you saying you're scared of me?"
Kevin eyed him nervously. "Maybe a little."
John took a step forward and stood nose-to-nose with him. "Have you ever kissed a man?"
"No." Kevin took a hard swallow.
"Well, maybe at the end of a soccer game."
He leaned forward and kissed him, long and slow. Kevin complied for the first few seconds, then panic set in. "Hey, man, no way I'm ready for that." He chuckled uncomfortably.
John smiled. He put his hand behind Kevin's neck and pulled him in. Their lips met. Kevin did not pull away.
"There," John said. "That didn't hurt, did it?"
"No, I guess not. No, it sure didn't."
"Want another one?"
"No. Maybe." Kevin did not try to move away.
Now, John said to himself. Take him.
John leaned forward and kissed him again, slowly and sensuously. Kevin tried to act reticent, but John was not fooled. Waves of pleasure were battering him, rippling across his skin and dazing his brain and he knew, his power being what it was, that Kevin felt the same thing. He grabbed Kevin's meaty ass and pulled it to him, pressing their equipment together. Kevin was rock hard. He moaned within their kiss, a pleading sound.
John released him and watched his the reactions move across his face: fear, disgust, barely suppressed desire. "You're a good kisser, Kevin. Come on. Let's sit down." He led Kevin back to the couch and they sat. They kissed for a while. Kevin became increasingly enthusiastic, though he would not reply when John spoke to him.
The longer they kissed, the more Kevin's passion rose. Reticence always excited John, and Kevin's reticence was Olympic class. He would be an excellent challenge. When Kevin's lust seemed at a high, John reached for his pants.
"No, hold on, man. I can't." He was panting like he'd run a marathon.
John looked into his eyes, said nothing, and slid his pants off. He was pleased to see Kevin's size, which was considerable. His legs were covered with wiry black hairs. John fondled his cock, making him groan with either pain or delight, John couldn't tell which. He pulled Kevin into his arms and began to work on him.
Kevin refused to do anything at first, but as John's desire increased in intensity, so did Kevin's, and he began to caress John's body, stroking and squeezing the huge muscles. John eventually worked his way around to the his ass. He rubbed Kevin's anus, explored it with a finger or two. Kevin gasped with pleasure when John's hand penetrated him.
"Oh, yeah, John. Oh, yeah. That feels good."
"It can feel so much better, Kevin." He spit on his cock and lubricated it.
Kevin's eyes went wide. "Oh, no way, man. No, forget it."
"I promise not to do anything that causes you pain, Kevin. I'll only give you pleasure. If there's ever any pain, I'll stop."
"Are you crazy? Look at your fucking tool. No way, man."
John pulled him closer and stared into his eyes. "It's all felt good so far, hasn't it.?"
"Let me make it even better. Let me take you to the limits of sex. Let me make you explode. I can do it, Kevin."
"Sounds pretty good, man."
"It's the ultimate male bonding. Closeness beyond anything you've ever dreamed of. Sex with a man is the ultimate sex."
"I don't think I can do it, John."
"It doesn't matter what you can do. It matters what I can do. You trust me, don't you, Kevin?"
John watched him struggle with himself. "I don't know. Yeah. Yeah, I trust you."
"Come on, Kevin. You know a man will fuck a sheep if he gets horny enough."
He smiled and turned him over. Kevin shouted when John penetrated him, howling with ecstasy. Kevin's asshole was extremely tight, clutching John's cock in an iron grip.
Muscles all over, I guess, John said to himself with a smile of triumph. He made it last a long time. He flipped Kevin's body around, twisting it into interesting positions. Kevin was limp in his powerful hands. Their orgasm was, like all of them, long and earthquake-powerful. They were both rocked to the core, shaken with ecstasy. In the aftermath, Kevin lay on his back and wept.
John took him back into his arms for a second go-round.
"Hey, no way, man!"
John continued to kiss him and fondle him.
"Hey, fuck you, asshole!" He pulled out of John's embrace and stood. "You want to fuck me, son of a bitch? You want it, you gotta fight for it!"
John stood and Kevin backed against the wall, obviously ready to put up a fight, even though he was completely erect and ready. John's desire for him was off the dial. He grabbed him and pulled him struggling to the floor where he fucked him a second time. Kevin resisted initially before giving in to the throb of ecstasy in his ass.
Laying on the floor where they were John took him a third time and a fourth. Kevin's resistance was an irresistible goad to him, a summons to higher and higher levels of invention. Kevin held out longer than any of his gay conquests. They had abandoned any pretense of free will after the six or seventh time. But Kevin held out to the tenth time. After that, he ceased to struggle, and became John's willing partner.
What's happening to me? Kevin thought as John entered him for the fifth time. He knew he was getting the best sex he had ever had, far better than anything any woman had ever given him. And John: what power! The strength! Kevin was trapped in his own evolution, driven by his nature to obey the great man, to submit to his authority. Behind that was the law of the primates, the rule of subservience to the biggest and the strongest. John was everything a man should be and deserved his obeisance. He worshipped John, and would submit to any demand.
John was so grateful for the sexual excitement Kevin had afforded him that he gave him a reward. After he was done completely subjugating him, he made love to him. He practiced the same romantic eroticism he had perfected with Kenny, linking Kevin's emotions to his sex so that each orgasm was an explosion of love and worship as well as lust. He battered Kevin's male buttress until it collapsed into feelings of adoration and devotion.
By the end of it, Kevin loved John.
They fucked all night and into the morning. John had never fucked anyone so many times in one encounter. He had fucked Kenny hundreds of times, but he fucked Kevin forty times at least in this one session. It was difficult to keep count in the throes of passion. Kevin excited him more than any man ever had.
When he finally finished with him, Kevin immediately passed out where he lay, which happened to be in the bathtub. He had been the best fuck John had ever had, better even than his first encounter with Best. Kevin was the champ. It would be interesting to see if he turned up later in the day, sheepishly knocking on John's door. John suspected he would.
He dressed and went back to his apartment. In the hall, he walked with a wide-legged swagger as if he had just climbed off a horse. Fucking a straight man had revealed to him new vistas for his power and sex. He had thought of himself as the ruler of the gay world, a narrow patch of land indeed. But his time with Kevin had opened up a whole new panorama to him.
Straight boys, he thought with a wicked grin.
He wasn't limited to dominating faggots. The whole world of men was accessible to him! They would all bow to him, obey him! My God, he could fuck the planet! He was the ultimate stud! Man, he could run it all! It was his sex toy! He was the king of the world!
My God, I'm exploding! John thought. His muscles flexed and clenched, pulsating with the power within them. His groaned deep in his throat, an animal eruption of savage joy and abandon. His cock, stretched taut, exploded with jism, firing into his pants with agonizing intensity. He orgasmed where he stood, outside his door.
He was immediately ready for another. He stormed into the apartment, pounding on his chest.
"Wooo! I am ready for some fuckin', baby! Whoa, yeah!" He continued to pound on himself. He stalked around the flat looking for Kenny, who he found waking up on top of their bedspread.
"John? What time is it?"
"You look fine, baby."
"Where did you go? I was worried."
With a growl of bestial ferocity, John pounced on him.
That day marked the end of their relationship as they had known it. John did not bother with the emotional sexuality he typically practiced with Kenny. He returned to his old ways, inflicting erotic punishments for imaginary crimes and forcing him to perform obscene and painful acts for the pleasure that came with them.
John's resurgent sexual power had never been so potent, now that he had unleashed it's full fury. No sooner had they come than he was hard and ready for more, over and over. Kenny screamed and wept, but no plea for mercy could have reached John.
Not when I feel like this, little man!
He had thought that he had never had a man so many times in one session until Kevin. But how many times did he fuck Kenny that day? Fifty? Sixty? One hundred? He had no idea. He pummeled Kenny with sex, ground him into the mud, degraded him. Kenny begged him to stop for a while, but soon the begging was replaced by moans of gratification, with open legs and clutching hands. Kenny willingly participated in his own destruction.
Late in the day, shit came out of Kenny's ass. He gasped with embarrassment, but even that couldn't stop John. He scooped it up and rubbed it in Kenny's face, over his body. He fucked Kenny's shit-filled ass, adding to the mess. Kenny pulsated with pleasure, welcoming his degradation. John fucked him and fucked him and fucked him mercilessly and without letup.
Kenny woke up in bed that morning a lover. He went to sleep that night a slave.
John showered luxuriously, washing Kenny's excrement off his magnificent body. His self-love was now cast in concrete. No one would ever again come between John and himself. It was time to tell the world that pleasing him was now its only purpose. Kenny was a great lover, but so were so many others.
He dried himself and stalked naked into the bedroom where Kenny lay in a swoon.
"Get up, babe."
Kenny's eyes opened a crack. "Get up?" he said in a quavering voice.
"It's Saturday night, slut. Time to survey our kingdom."
"Stay here with me, John." He eyed John more with fear than desire.
Oh, what do you think, Kenny. Do you think I'm your private, personal stud?
"Suit yourself." He dressed and went out into the night.
John strutted down the street, humming with satisfaction. He was back in command of his world. He had allowed his euphoria with Kenny to distract him from his power, from the scope of his might. My God, what a fool to think he could ignore it! He had lost time to make up for!
He wore almost nothing: work boots, rolled-down socks, an ankle wallet and swim trunks. He would have gone naked if the law had permitted. Why should he cover up his stupendous body? The world needed to know who he was, to afford him the proper respect. His muscles flexed gloriously. His crotch was an enormous bulge between his rippling thighs, barely contained by the skimpy swimsuit. But why contain it at all?
He strode into the Roundabout, ignoring Bruno at the door. He did not need to ask to be admitted at no charge. This was his kingdom. It was his decision, not some thick-bodied thug's. It was nearly midnight, and the place was hopping. Faggots packed the room, wall-to-wall. They all stared as he passed, reaching out to caress him. No one spoke to him. They looked at him with a combination of desire and fear. They seemed to want to recoil from him even as they stroked his perfection. Many of them followed at a discreet distance just so they could look at him.
On his way across the floor, he ran into little Besterton. He looked ravishing in flimsy track shorts and no shirt. His firm, round little muscles looked edible.
"John," he said.
"Sweet Best. How have you been?"
"Well, a little lonely, John. Why haven't you called me?"
John laughed. "Shit, Best, I fucked you a hundred times already. Why the hell would I call you?"
He walked away.
He found the Golden Circle in their usual corner. What a pack of scared rabbits they were! The undisputed masters of the gay world, they clustered fearfully in the same place every week, longing to be admired, but terrified of the combined lust of those who admired them. John would show them how it worked. John was not afraid of anyone or anything.
"Whoa, baby!" Chau shouted when John appeared. "Showin' it off tonight!" The rest of the Circle turned and stared worshipfully.
"Why not?" John said smugly.
"I love it!"
"Harvey Kell? Moved to LA. Modeling and porno."
So, Harvey had escaped him after all.
"Let's dance, Chau. Carl, you too." Carl was a slim-hipped newcomer to the Circle. Sleekly muscled, his body exuded a sensual eroticism that fascinated John. His wiry hair was combed flatly against his head to subdue it wiriness. His face was long and aristocratic. He was even more dysfunctional than the usual Circle recruit, and show signs of becoming very acceptably arrogant and cruel. John would fuck him tonight.
The three went out on the dance floor. John again reveled in the eerie grace of his new form, undulating to the music with snake-like ease. The eyes of all around shifted to him. He cheerfully excited Chau and Carl, allowing them the full range of their desire, licking him, sucking his nipples, stroking his powerful physique.
The rest of the Circle could not stay away and soon surrounded him, ostensibly dancing with each other, but really all dancing with him. He was at the center of a Circle of beauty, of magnificent bodies and perfect faces. He was emperor of the world and they were his courtiers, his court of physical perfection.
This was his kingdom! This was where he ruled! He would dominate them all! His cock solidified majestically. His machinery popped out of his skimpy briefs and displayed itself. Carl gasped at the inhuman size of it and fell to his knees. He pulled John's trunks down and took the giant tool into his mouth, his jaw distending weirdly as it slipped John's organ in to the root. John groaned and threw his head back as the pulsations of pleasure shuddered through him, as powerful and pleasurable this time as it had been a hundred other times. Would it ever diminish? Would any orgasm ever be just another orgasm, a non-event? He knew it would not. He knew this kind of shattering, annihilatory ecstasy was his on demand forever.
The rest of the Circle closed in, smoothing his flesh with their hands, stroking him, caressing him, loving him. Soon they surrounded him, a cloud of fondling hands driving him to the greatest climax of his life. His body pulsed with sweet sex. The feeling of exultant power rose up in him, crashing like a tidal wave over his consciousness, shouting a single word: Power! Power! POWER!
He held back his completion. The moment was so sweet, so exalting. When the time came, he would explode like a bomb. The Circle members were groaning, as near climax as he was. Through the crack of his eyes he saw the other dancers around them fall on each other, kissing, grabbing, fondling. Strangers tore each others clothes off on the dance floor, they fells to their knees and sucked each other's cocks, licked each other's anuses. Farther back at the bar patrons set to each other, frenching passionately with people they had ignored all night, exploding with John's desire, John's lust.
They feel my power! he exulted. They know I'm their god!
The room was filled with his power. It reverberated from the walls, mingled with the sweat on gyrating bodies, addled the brains of bystanders. My God, he was in control! He body began to vibrate with ecstasy, surging higher and higher towards a tremendous fulfillment.
Bruno broke into the worshipping mob around John. "What the fuck are you doin', man? Are you crazy!"
John grabbed Bruno by the throat. "What do you think, Bruno? You think I'm going to have power like this and not use it!"
He came. His body detonated in a colossal paroxysm of pleasure, more pleasure than he, than anyone, had ever experienced. He roared with exaltation, with the strength of his muscles, the power of his sex. The Circle came all around him, crying out with the joy of it. The dancers beyond them came as well, the crowd roaring ecstatically. The bar patrons ejaculated on each other. The room burst at the seams with sex. Bodies exploded. Jism fired into the air as if it were under hydraulic pressure.
It lasted a long time, several minutes. John roared his elation, his dominion. Pleasure blasted up out of some illimitable reservoir of sexual energy within him, filling him, blanking out his civilized identity, leaving only the ravening animal, the predator, the beast. He came and came, and so did everyone around him. The crowd screamed as if some terrible catastrophe were befalling them, screamed with the exaltation of it, screamed in worship of him.
When John was spent, he released his hold on them. They all fell to the floor, the hundreds of them. They prostrated themselves before his unstoppable might. Carl, still sucking on his gigantic member, was weeping. John pulled out and let him fall at his feet.
He looked around him, at the Circle, at Bruno, and the enormous room full of stunned revelers. They were all his now. He had conquered them utterly and they were his. They would obey any command he issued. They would die for him. He was their god.
How now to extend his power? How much more could he have, could he take? A great deal, he suspected. The thought immediately made him hard again. The rage of his lust welled up and possessed him. He must go out into the world, display his power to it.
"Get up, you lazy sluts!" he shouted at his beautiful devotees. "Get the fuck up! You think we're done? You think I'm spent? We're just getting started, little men!"
Carl rose by climbing up John's leg. Four of the others managed to stand. Everyone else lay in a stupor of gratification and love.
"Let's roll!" John roared. He stalked out of the room with them trailing behind him. Five of them. That should keep him for one night. The rest could serve at a later date. He stormed out the front door into the gasoline-scented night. He stood at the corner looking out at the skyline that surrounded them. This was his city, his domain. He ruled here!
He raised his arms, shaking his fists at the tall edifices of the skyscrapers.
"My fuckin' city!" he bellowed. He flexed his muscles, posed them, displaying the arcing mass of his biceps, the deep convexity of his chest.. Queens shrieked at the sight of him. He was bigger than Steve Reeves, bigger than Shwarzenegger, he was bigger than anyone! He was the man! He had the power!
With an inarticulate roar he tore his swimsuit in half and threw away the pieces. He was naked and unveiled before the city. He growled with pleasure.
"Let's go, boys! Let's go fuck!" He stalked naked down the street, his enormous apparatus flying in the wind. Faggots cried out as he passed. The Circle members hung on him, adored him as he deserved.
A police car appeared at the corner. "John, come on," Chau pleaded. "You're going to get arrested!"
"Let them try! I can rip them apart! I'll squash them like bugs! Let them try!"
Carl and Chau tried to steer him into a side street. "Really, John, get out of sight."
They led him onto a off-street which was not lighted by city streetlights. John's brain was churning. His hormones raged.
"Do you feel it! Do you feel my power!"
"Yes, John," they cried. "Yes, we all feel it!"
"Then see it!" He stomped over to a parked car and, without any discernible effort, flipped it over. It rolled twice and landed upside down in the middle of the street, where it burst into flames. John laughed, a roaring, savage laugh, and flipped another and another. They all began to burn. He flexed his arms massively, worshipping the strength in them, worshipping himself.
Sirens were heard. "John, come on, we have to go." Carl pulled at him with as much success as he might have pulling at a tank.
John looked around, wild-eyed. They were standing in front of a demolished lot with a high mountain of dirt and building parts. "Come!" he shouted at his slaves. With two easy leaps he surmounted the mound and stood triumphant with his legs apart, looking down at them. They scrambled to obey him, digging their hands and feet into he dirt and following him.
When they reached the top, he ripped their clothes off and began to fuck whichever of them was at hand. They all wanted him simultaneously, were ravenous for him, and they battened on to him like a cloud of flesh, stroking, sucking, fondling. He cock went into whatever orifice presented itself, bursting with jism, pumping gallons of the stuff into any available receptacle. They were soaked with his cum, dripping with it. It surged in endless supply from his hugely erect cock. The flames from the burning vehicles below lent an infernal luster.
The ambulances came. The fire department came. The police came. No one noticed John's private orgy on top of his mountain. He stood and looked down at them with a limp male body under each arm. Carl was sucking uxoriously on his immense instrument.
Look at them! The little people scurrying about, trying to undo the products of my power! How weak they are! How ugly! How irrelevant!
"I'm king of the fucking world!" he shouted over the din.
Besterton Keynes sat curled up on the window seat of his tidy one-bedroom apartment, looking out at the sycamore trees and Douglas firs that lined his quiet street. He had not moved for several hours. He had come home at a very late hour, stunned and trembling. His trick, whose name he did not yet know, lay snoring on his bed.
It had been the most spectacular orgasm of his life. He thought his evening with John Avery would always be the most profound sexual experience of his existence, but last night topped it in spades. Sweet Jesus, what ecstasy! His passion was so intense, so ungovernable that he went down on the person standing next to him before either of them realized what was happening. He pushed him to the ground, slipped out of his pants and impaled himself on the man's pulsating cock. Fortunately, he was very handsome and muscular.
The whole room. An entire dance club shooting jism in unison. He had never seen the like. His ass still vibrated with pleasure. He felt subdued, satisfied. And utterly compliant. He would do anything to experience it again.
He had seen John. He was at the epicenter of it, he was the catalyst. Best sensed some kind of power in John the night they fucked so many times. It was a power that raised Best up, filled him with superhuman desire, reduced him to a palpitating object, a thing of love and obedience. Best had never been subjugated before. He was always the one with the power. His body assured this. He knew it would when he set out years ago to develop it, carefully eyeing his progress in the mirror, making sure he didn't get too big, too butch. He knew what he wanted. Best always knew what he wanted. He had learned to use his sexuality to control others, to manage his world. Now there was a new power in town, one that far surpassed his own. This was unacceptable. Also unacceptable was John's blithe disinterest in him. Best was not someone who liked to be ignored. Best fucked people and tossed them aside, not the other way around.
When Best thought about John, which he did every day, his mind became confused. He had known John for a while. He had worked with John for over a year. How is it they had never connected until that night? That much sheer sex power on the hoof wouldn't have gone unnoticed by him all that time. He seemed to remember a previous John Avery, someone narrow and mean-spirited, someone he could manipulate and toy with. He was sure John hadn't always been the way he was now.
Some kind of transformation had been effected. But how? Hormone treatments? Plastic surgery? Any plastic surgeon who could produce a cock that size would be a zillionaire. No, something inexplicable had happened to John, Best was sure of it. And just as inexplicably, something kept him from thinking about it directly. John had been invested with some kind of power. What that power was and where it came from Best did not know.
But he knew he must have it.
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