The Mann Agency

by Also Known As

 Need a handyman? Someone to scrub your pool or clean your windows or fix a squeaky door? The Mann Agency and its specially trained agents are at your service.

Added: Oct 2021 Updated: 23 Apr 2022 25,951 words 10,514 views 4.8 stars (13 votes)

Author’s Note

Dedicated to and inspired by Absolutbleu, whose comics and illustrations of himbos are entirely responsible for this fantasy.



West Hollywood is the gayest place on earth. Oh, you may consider San Francisco the gay epicenter, or Fire Island, or Provincetown, but once you visit West Hollywood, all other havens to men having sex with men pales in comparison.

I am, of course, slightly prejudiced in favor of West Hollywood since I live here, and the selection of handsome, muscular, insatiably horny men is like a smorgasbord of pulchritude, cock, and ass. Still, it wasn’t until I was introduced to The Mann Agency that I fully realized what this town had to offer.

My first encounter with one of the employees—or handymen, as they call themselves—was at my friend Brian’s house, which is situated on a hillside overlooking much of the city. Brian is a wealthy man, older than myself, but like pretty much every male citizen of WeHo he stays in top shape with daily visits to the gym in his basement and a diet rich in protein and low in fat. The man looks like an underwear model with a closely cropped fade haircut of snowy white and a similar coating of frosty curls across his expansive, and impressive, chest.

I met Brian at an orgy, which tells you something about the both of us. The man has thing for rimming, which I must say he excels at, and a tongue that can do things no ordinary tongue can. I mean, he’s handsome, wealthy, well endowed, and likes to lick my asshole, so basically perfect. But we hit it off on a deeper level than merely fucking, and I enjoy his wine cellar and pool as much as he enjoys my butt hole and lips.

Anyway, it’s a typical Sunday in WeHo and I’ve brunched and had my mimosas and I get a text from Brian—where is he, anyway?—and he’s begging me to come to his place without explanation, other than “it’s a surprise” accompanied with an eggplant, peach, and two chest nuts, and I know what that meant.

I knocked on his door and there was a longer than usual delay before he answered, knowing it was me by spying on his entry with a camera, of course. The man had cameras everywhere, not like anyone was going to complain about being captured on video nakedly fucking him or vice versa.

“Oh my god,” he said, grabbing my arm and pulling me somewhat forcibly inside, “you have to see him!” Brian was wearing exactly one piece of clothing, a sky blue Speedo, and already sporting an award-winning woody that was shoving against its Latex cage with eagerness.

I was wearing a tank top and jeans, sans underwear since I assumed he’d want my ass bare for his mouth once I cross his threshold. “Him who?”

“The new pool boy!”

My dick throbbed. “You had me at pool boy,” I said, dreamy fantasies of a tanned, mostly naked, oiled up, muscular body slowly gathering leaves off the surface while his amazing ass sways and flexes. I knew that Brian, more than anyone, was bound to have hired the dude based on his looks rather than his pool cleaning abilities.

“But, you have to promise me that you won’t take any pictures for that Instagram feed you’re so proud of. In fact, you can’t even mention him online or we won’t get to have all the fun I promise you is about to happen.”

He practically pulled me through the rooms towards the back of the house where the media room with its one wall made entirely of glass looked out on his backyard and the swooping view of the city beyond. “What’s so special about this…?”

But the final words left my brain entirely because all the blood had rushed out of it towards my crotch, making my dick throb in my jeans even harder, basically a jackhammer made of cock, and swell and ache with desire for what my eyes then beheld.

The pool boy had his back to us as he stood there at the edge of Brian’s blue pool. There was that butt I imagined, but this was a butt beyond belief. You’ve heard the term bubble butt before, I’m sure, but nothing could have prepared me for the butt I was suddenly gawking at as my cock continued to swell unabated.

That ass was huge. And I mean huge. No butt I ever saw before was as large, but it was also gorgeous. Two perfectly round balls of ass meat jutting out like a very prominent invitation, and made all the more juicy and desirable because the only thing the pool boy was wearing was a string thong, the nearly invisible straps arching over each of those mammoth bulges as if to frame their enormous and impossible dimensions.

As my eyes traveled up and away from this incredible backside, the rest of the young man from behind was equally imposing and impossibly built. A waist so thin I wondered if it was even smaller than mine, which only made his ass look even bigger. Then two wings arching out beneath his arms made up of thick lats. Shoulders wider than any shoulders I had ever seen, as well as arms so thick with muscle that it looked like someone had tucked literal footballs under his tanned skin instead of biceps and triceps.

My mouth was hanging open and I was probably drooling, but then the young man turned to profile and raised one of those muscular arms to wipe his brow in the summer sun and I almost spontaneously ejaculated. “What… I mean, who is that?”

His chest was as huge as his ass! Maybe even bigger! From the side, seeing his butt and chest looked like someone had mounted fully inflated beachballs on his body, and sitting at the very tip of his magnificent pectoral mountain was a huge, dark nipple with an areola easily two inches across. I have a nipple fetish because my own are super sensitive, and I love watching men play and tease their nipples as someone strokes or sucks them, and another fantasy was now flooding my brain with desire as I imagined myself latching on to that fat, beautiful nipple and making the pool boy moan and squirm and writhe in ecstasy.

“Holy fuck,” I whispered. “Holy fuck.”

“Worth every penny,” Brian said.

“That’s your new pool boy?”

“He’s whatever I want him to be. Costs the same no matter what you hire him for. Clean your house. Wash your car. Cook you dinner. Hell, you can just have one over to pour your wine and then stand there looking … like that!”

I couldn’t take my eyes off him. Every move he made illustrated how gorgeous and sexy and huge he was. His ass was high and tight and mighty, a butt swollen huge with muscle. Those amazing, awesome muscle tits were shiny and smooth, huge and firm and perfect. “But what is he?”

“A Handymann.”


“From The Mann Agency.”

“Man agency?”

“Em Ay En En. Two N’s.” Brian’s dick was now seriously threatening to rip its way out of his bathing suit. My own was so hard it hurt. We stood there drooling and staring at someone who looked like they’d jumped out of some fervent ass and chest-lover’s wet dream, a specimen of male beauty and muscular development so over-the-top in both departments that it didn’t even seem real. “First time seeing one of them?”

“I think I’d remember. Look at that face! Look at that ass! Look at that chest! I mean … holy fuck!”

“$500 an hour, or $2,000 a night, or $5,000 for an entire 24 hour fuck fest.”

“Like a rent boy?”

“Show me a rent boy who looks like he does. The Mann Agency is exclusive and private. Like I said, no pictures. At all. Not even for your private jerk off sessions. There’s no website, it’s strictly word of mouth.”

“So, I mean, what do they do, inject their butts and pecs with some kind of…?”

He was shaking his head. “Nothing like that. It’s all real. That’s his butt, and that’s his chest. I assume it’s not 100% natural, but when you feel it—when you feel him, and holy fuck you’re going to want to feel him, every inch of him—it’s all… him.”

“But, like, his ass is… so fucking… huge. So…thick and meaty and…huge!”

“They’re all built like that. Every one of them. I mean, different faces, obviously, and different skin tones and hair styles, but every fucking last one of them have a body like Trevor’s. Like… like bodybuilders but bigger. And rounder. And softer. I mean, you won’t believe what his skin feels like. What he feels like.”

“You mentioned that already.”

“Sorry, after you experience being with a Handymann you will never forget it.”

“So I assume he does more than clean your pool for $500 an hour.” I knew he could afford it, even if it would be a huge splurge for me and put quite a dent in my credit cards.

“Dude, I had to call you. He’s wearing me out.”

“You? He’s wearing you out?”

“I know, I’m a whore.”

“Honey, you’re more than a whore. You’re a super whore. You’re an über whore. You’re the kind of whore that other whores wish they could be.”

“You’re too kind, and you’re not wrong.”

“But he wore you out?”

He looked at me and nodded. “He’s very… overt about his level of horniness and what he wants, which even by my terms was off the fucking scale. He showed up like that!”

“Just wearing the…?”

“Yes! Just wearing that little thong! Standing on my doorstep practically naked! Started kissing me before I even had the door closed behind him! And the man craves cum. Like, craves it. Needs it coating his muscles and pumped down his throat and shoved up his ass. I’ve already cum three times! And, like, not little squirts but like massive… fucking… volcanoes! Huge eruptions! Huge screaming, toe-curling, gasping for air eruptions and… he wants more. Plus I hired him for two hours and it’s only been,” he checked his Apple Watch, “twenty minutes!”

“You came three times in twenty minutes? Without a break?”

“This is my break! You are my break! I need some assistance!” He looked back out towards the pool. “I told him to clean the pool just to give my dick a pause and he was only too happy to do it, after basically raping me in the doorway. But, like, the good kind of rape, of course.”

“Of course,” I agreed, knowing what he meant. Sometimes you just want a guy to take charge. I looked back out the floor-to-ceiling windows. The muscular dude with the huge ass and even huger chest was applying oil to his skin. He was moving his hands all over every inch of his almost naked body, making his dark skin glisten and shine. Somehow, it made his ass look even bigger. “You know I’m always there when you call, buddy.”

Brian opened the sliding glass door and called out, “Trevor! Could you come in here and meet my friend Steve?”

Trevor turned his face towards us and looked over his broad, smoothly muscular shoulder, leaving his prominent and unbelievably huge bubble butt for us to continue salivating over. I nearly came again. He owned a face that a male model would covet. He was both handsome and pretty, if that makes sense. He had a shock of blue-black hair on his head that stuck out in all the right ways. His jawline could have carved out a canyon. His eyes, I swear to god, were the same turquoise color as the water in the pool.

He smiled as our eyes met and then he turned fully towards us and I saw his bulge for the first time, his obviously massive equipment somehow lodged into that string thong but leaving absolutely nothing to the imagination. Even limp, as he appeared to be now, he owned at least eight very thick inches with a fat mushroom head shoved into the end of the pouch next to two heavy, round balls, all that equipment groaning for space inside the ample, stretchy pouch hanging low on his hips, probably from the sheer weight and mass of his cock and balls.

He set his pool cleaning equipment on the deck, leaning over and exposing his pink, perfect pucker before he straightened, like an invitation to fuck him, and walked towards us, his beautiful tanned skin glistening with sweat and lotion in the bright sun. His improbably huge body—he had to be at least six-ten in his stalking feet, if not taller—moved with grace and innate sensuality, and those two huge pecs shifted and flexed, making his huge nipples dance back and forth.

“Sure, Mr. McDonald,” he said.

“He calls you Mr. McDonald?” I whispered.

“Insists on it. For a dude who likes getting fucked and sucking cum out of your balls and having you cream a thick load all over his massive muscle tits, he’s extremely polite. And filthy as a Parisian whore.”


It was hard to judge his age. Surely no one as young as his face looked would have had the years necessary to develop the insanely prominent muscles on his body, and what could he have been doing to make his chest as ass so huge? His voice was deep and manly, like it had been sent through an audio app to make it sound as ridiculously masculine as his body looked. Absurdly masculine.

He looked to be in his late teens or early twenties, without a line on his handsome features and not a single stretch mark on his luscious, shiny, smooth skin. The only hair on his body was on the top of his head, and a beautiful full pubic bush peaking over the edge of his thong of the same odd blue-black hue.

As he approached, I noticed a kind of sexual heat growing between us, which I assumed was just my own libido reacting to this impossible edifice to male perfection and muscular beauty.

“Trevor, this is Steve.”

He looked at me and smiled brightly, reaching down to adjust his equipment and rubbing his large thumb over the prominent head of his hidden cock. “I’m very pleased to meet you, Mister..?” he asked, his blue eyes scanning every inch of my body with overt lust.

“Petrovich,” I informed him.

“Mr. Petrovich.” He reached down and cupped my groin in his large hand, squeezing me like I was some prize at the fair he was sizing up. “I’m so happy to see that I please you.” Evidently he was, as I could see his own cock lengthen and swell as he rubbed mine. His hand was warm and firm and his manipulations of my swelling organ were both investigative and calculating.

Then he put his other hand behind my neck—his grip still warm and soft and smooth, his fingers wandering into my hair and pulling slightly, which I loved and how did he know that?—and he leaned down to press his mouth against mine and shove his tongue in my mouth.

I was so startled and turned on that I couldn’t stop to consider what was happening, and I suddenly found my hand moving across the huge, smooth mound of his ass, exploring the thick, round inches of butt meat, marveling at its size and firmness, before finally pushing my fingers between those huge lobes and pressing the tips of my fingers against his warm, wet hole.

I heard Brian huff out a laugh and felt as well as heard Trevor moan into the kiss as I teased his tight hole with obvious lust.

I should point out that this behavior isn’t all that unusual. I’d visited Brian before when he had porn stars and sex workers at his house engaged in one fantasy or another. He paid them well and they performed their tasks with convincing accuracy. I assumed this was another of his conquests, perhaps someone he eyed at a bar or the beach or another friends’ place. But I had never seen anyone who looked like Trevor looked and there was something almost irresistible about him.

The kissing went on for a long time, at least it seemed like it did. My fingers kept teasing and rubbing Trevor’s asshole and he was obviously quite comfortable being groped like this. He pushed those massive melons mounted on his chest at my smaller body and they were smooth and warm and firm, not hard with muscle but extremely supple and sensual. I pulled my mouth off of his and moved down to his chest, sucking one of his huge nipples inside my mouth and gently nibbling it between my tongue and teeth.

Trevor put his hand behind my head and pressed my mouth against his breast, and said “That feels good, baby. Do you want my milk?” To say I was startled by his question would be an understatement, but I nodded anyway thinking it just a fantasy question. “Yeah, that’s good. That feels good. Keep sucking, baby.” I obliged him happily and then shook with surprise when I felt my mouth filled with a warm, sweet, thick fluid that was obviously issuing from his nipple.

I pulled off and looked at his chest and the fat, chewable nipple that was now leaking a thin stream of white milk. I licked my lips and reached forward to pinch his nip and was rewarded with a sudden, heavy gush of milk that splattered on my lips and chin. He pulled my head back to his chest and I latched onto his teat and began to suck in earnest, finding the warm creamy milk his chest was producing to be both delicious and intoxicating, like sucking pure masculine power inside my mouth and swallowing it down where it filled my gut and made my dick throb and swell. I squeezed and stroked the huge mound of pec flesh to draw his milk from his nipple.

Trevor said, “There’s more where that came from, Mr. McDonald,” and then my fuck buddy’s head was beside my own, pressed against Trevor’s other breast by Trevor’s large hand. Trevor was so tall that his tits were exactly at the right height to easily suck them and caress them, as streams of his gorgeous, sexy milk pumped into our hungry mouths. I pulled my hand from his chest and reached down and began to squeeze and stroke his prick as my other hand continued teasing his hole and Brian and I sucked on his nipples.

I was still actively and happily sucking his nipple and his statement barely registered until he grabbed the hair at the back of my head and physically pulled me off his chest. “Do you want to fuck my pecs?” He slid his hand between the enormous roundness of his muscle tits and slid it up and down. Three or four fingers disappeared into the valley between his mountains, and his nipples moved up and down, still dripping warm cream. He wiped his fingers against his nipple to collect the excess he was still producing and lubed up his cleavage with milk, his eyes never leaving my face.

I nodded dumbly, overwhelmed with what was happening.

Then he pulled Brian off his other tit. “I need to be licked,” he said. “I need your warm, wet tongue all over my huge ass, and inside my tight hole. I want to feel your tongue pushing inside and painting my ass with spit while Steve fucks my pecs and comes all over my face.” He put a finger under Brian’s chin and tilted it up so their eyes met. “Can you do that for me?” Brian just nodded and started removing his pants with the speed of someone who had to fuck right now.

Trevor smiled and licked his lips, looking at us both. “Then I want you both inside me. I want to feel your cocks sliding against each other and filling my ass until your balls start pumping cream until my hole is overflowing. I’m gonna milk your cocks until you don’t think you can cum anymore, and then I’m going to suck out another load until your balls ache.”

I was pulling my button fly apart and tugging my aching prick out. He looked down and smiled and wrapped his huge paw around me, stroking me to even stronger hardness. “Yeah, baby. I want to feel you fucking my tits and pushing your dick head against my lips. I want to lick your slit and drive you insane.”

I was so aroused I couldn’t even think straight. It was just how Trevor looked or acted or spoke to us, it was everything. He was overtly and overwhelmingly sexy. Like he had been born and bred for this. “Let’s do it outside, on the grass,” he suggested. “The sun feels good on my skin and I don’t want to ruin any of Mr. McDonald’s furniture when we cum.”

We followed him outside, stripping off our clothes as we went. Brian’s cock was already drooling streams of precum and mine was so heavy and thick that it felt like a new limb attached to my body. I watched Trevor’s huge, perfect ass shift and dance as he walked in front of us, obviously knowing full well how gorgeous it was, and it was probably driving my ass-licking friend insane.

Then he was down onto the green grass in Brian’s backyard overlooking the city and lying on his back. At some point he’d stripped off the tiny thong he’d been using to hold his equipment and now I could see him in his naked state, and if anything the size and beauty of his cock and balls only heightened my attraction to him.

His cock, like his muscles and butt and chest, was enormous. I’d estimated eight inches but it was more like ten. Thicker than a Coke bottle and smooth as a baby’s butt, with a huge mushroom head and two fat, low-hanging balls like hen’s eggs. Again, the only body hair he possessed was a small perfect crown of dark curls over the root of his gorgeous monster cock, and that was rising and swelling even larger now.

“Can I fuck you while you fuck my tits?” he asked. “I know Mr. McDonald likes to eat my ass.” He was rubbing his thumbs on those two pliable nipples, drawing forth more of his wonderful and miraculous muscle milk that flowed over the rich, round, muscular mounds of his enormous pecs, pouring into the deep cleavage and leaking down through his cobblestone abs like a river of cream.

I looked down at his huge sex organ, throbbing hard and drooling pre like a starving dog, and felt my asshole tremble. I mean, I’m not a novice or anything but sticking a baseball bat up my ass is something I need a bit of prep time for. But Brian, noticing my hesitation, said, “Do it. It feels amazing.”

“But he’s so… big.” I looked up and Trevor smiled again. Even his teeth were sexy.

“I promise you’ll love it. It’s a Handymann guarantee,” Trevor announced in his deep, sexy voice.

“Literally,” Brian added. “It’s literally in the contract.”

“It’s in the contract that when he fucks me I’ll love it.”

“Or words to that effect. Anyway, trust me if you doubt Trev. As you know I’ve been fucked by the best of them, but this is like… next level fucking. This is how you dream fucking feels like.” He looked down at that club of a cock as well. “I don’t know how he does it, but it feels amazing when he’s inside you.”

“Thanks, Mr. McDonald,” Trevor answered, practically beaming with pride.

I nodded dumbly and mounted his body, sitting on his eight-pack, tightly muscled belly, feeling his warm tit cream against my balls, before sliding my hard-on between his muscle tits and feeling my meat surrounded by his warm, soft flesh. I leaned down to suck his nipple and felt his cock head rubbing against my butt hole as the sound of Brian’s talented mouth and tongue began to lap and lick and kiss Trevor’s pink pucker.

This was like heaven, if heaven was made of men and muscle and tits and ass and nipples leaking muscle milk all over your cock. I started thrusting my hard on between his pecs, sloshing around in his milk, as his prick kissed my hole and I felt a warm, wet gush of something paint my butt and realized that Trevor had just shoved a fountain of precum out of his cock and painted my ass with it. The smell of sex and sweat and suntan oil all mixed in my senses and I felt horny and giddy and sexy all at the same time.

That was when Trevor pushed his prick inside my ass and I gasped with pain that gave way just as quickly to a sensation of pleasure and fullness, as his monster found my prostate almost magically and started rubbing himself against me. It only took a few strokes of his mammoth cock inside me before I could already feel a heavy surge of cum building for release.

I pride myself on my staying power, usually. I can edge with the best of them, easily stroking my stiff prick as it leaked honey all over my palm but like Brian said, this was next level fucking. This felt like what you dreamed fucking should feel like. The sense of being connected to another man, the intense and intimate feeling of his prick inside you, feeling it move and throb as the man grunted like an animal and held me in place on top of him, pushing my own tingling, throbbing, insanely sexually charged cock between the luscious meaty muscular mounds of his huge tits as my tongue slurped up the creamy milk his nipples were squirting without end.

“Suck my tits,” Trevor ordered me. “I’m so full.” He flexed his muscled chest and squeezed my dick with more force than I imagined possible. Fresh fountains of cream erupted upwards, splashing my naked chest and belly. Sucking his nipple while fucking his tits was easier than I thought it would be given their size, and his fat, wet nipple almost climbed into my mouth to allow me to pull at its rubbery warmth and feel his creamy muscle milk flow down my throat.

Sitting atop him reminded me how big he was everywhere. Not just these amazing tits shoved into my face but the width of his shoulders and the bulges of abs under my balls. His dick was slowly fucking me nonstop, rubbing against my prostate and driving me wild. “I’m gonna cum,” I suddenly said, realizing I couldn’t hold back as his milk bathed me and his cock fucked me.

“Cum, baby. Give me everything.” He opened his mouth and stuck out his tongue to await my load.

When I came, I came hard! I felt like my soul was leaving my body. I was holding on to his milk-coated pens and my dick was pointed at his face and my first shot was thick and plentiful, as his baseball bat prick shoved against me. He held his mouth open and I watched his Adam’s Apple bob as he swallowed as much as he could, licking his lips greedily and groaning, More. I want more.”

I came again, an even thicker load, filling his open mouth as he swallowed that too.

“More,” he ordered.

I obliged with a third fountain that hit his chin and lips as well as his tongue, which he used to lick it all off and swallow it down. “Yeah, baby,” Trevor moaned. “You taste so good. Give me all of it. Then you and Mr. McDonald are going to fuck my ass and unload more cum inside my guts. I need it all. Every drop you can give me.”

“Yes,” I agreed, mesmerized in some way by this ultra sexy man. His nipples were still shooting cream and I leaned down with my mouth over a spigot and squeezed his pec like a cow’s udder, sending a thick delivery of muscle milk in my mouth as I simultaneously shot another load of cum into his and slid my angry, hard as steel prick between his tits, sliding my butt back against his cock to pull every hard inch of his monster inside me.

Trevor licked his lips and folded his arms behind his head, making his biceps footballs bulge even larger, and said, quite calmly, “I’m coming.” In the same instant I felt a hot surge flood my guts, as if his cock was unleashing a tidal wave of cum inside me. I felt it squirting out around his cock as he released flood after flood of cum inside me.

I was delirious with pleasure. My ass, my mouth, my cock, my balls, everything felt good. I had never experienced so totally the sensation of fucking and being fucked, of feeling him cum in my ass as I was erupting cum fountains into his greedy mouth. My body was bathed in pleasure, absolutely drowning in perfect sexual bliss.

Trevor came and I came and I assume Brian came—judging by the sound of his groans and whimpers—all at the same time. My dick was lodged between Trevors huge muscle tits, leaking milk all over his smooth, warm skin, as I shot cum into his open mouth and his prick, shoved inside my ass, was pumping Olympic sized fountains of hot cream inside me.


I love my job. Why wouldn’t I? It’s a dream come true! Or should I say ‘dream cum true?’

Well, I’m not employed because of my sense of humor.

I’m often happily surprised that anyone pays me for doing what I love, namely having hot sex with men and becoming their cum dump as they feel every inch of my naked body and caress my muscles and curves which, after all, I built up just for them.

Well, maybe not just for them. For me too. I fucking love being a whore. The bigger the better!

When Mr. Mann approached me, I didn’t even know how much I wanted this. I mean, I was working out like a dog at the gym trying to get huge—and I felt like I was! Six-feet-two, 20-inch arms, big fucking pecs, not a six-pack because I wanted to be big, not lean, and an ass made big and juicy from thousands or millions of squats. And I loved looking at my progress in the mirror. Squeezing my biceps just that tiny bit bigger, watching the veins swell with blood to feed my muscles, making my nice-sized dick swell in unison.

But even more than that, I loved when other guys were looking at my body. And the bigger I got, the more some of them looked, and some of them would have to adjust their junk! I was turning guys on just by standing there and showing off.

All I wanted was to get bigger. Huge. Massive.

Mr. Mann said he saw my potential, and looking at Mr. Mann’s amazing body who was I to doubt him? He looked incredible! Beyond incredible! His skin was smooth and tanned, his eyes were deep blue, he had jaw that could cut glass and the kind of face cigarette ads used to feature, all-man in other words.

You couldn’t miss him even if you tried. The man was taller than I was, maybe by three or four inches, and as wide as a fucking house. His chest entered the room three days before the rest of him, and his ass remained behind to admire for a week after he left.

At first I thought his muscle tits couldn’t be real under that skin-tight shirt, even seeing his fat nipples pressing insistently against the material, stretched to the breaking point so that the darkness of his nips could be clearly seen. But then he invited me to feel them and holy hell, they were—they are—realer than real. So big and firm and beautiful. Fucking huge pecs with fucking huge nips shoving against those tailored shirts and tanks and half-shirts, all of which drive me fucking insane.

Oh! Not to mention the milk that gushes from them when anyone—well, me at least, and the other boys in his posse—sucks them, and then he moans and starts shooting cum from that huge cannon between his legs. I had never known such pure sexual satisfaction.

Then he turns around and lets me grope that juicy phat ass of his and I know more than any truth I’ve ever known that I would do anything to have a body like his.

He asked me how big I wanted to get, and I looked at his huge muscle tits and amazing ass and all his thick, round muscles and told him I wanted to be as big as him—or even bigger. He asked if I liked sex, and I answered of course, who doesn’t? But he asked how much I liked it, and did I want to be doing it all the time, make that my life’s work, fucking and being fucked, building up a set of huge muscle tits and an ass so large it would be unbelievable.

Yes, I said. I might have even shouted it!

He told me he’d be happy to sponsor me, help me work out every day and get huge like he was, and after I’d started to reach where I wanted to be he might have a job offer for me. It sounded like a fantasy or something, some handsome muscle dude wanted to pay for me growing as big or bigger as he was and engage in endless hot sex? I couldn’t say no.

Things started out kind of disappointing, to be honest. No matter how much I worked out, getting those heavy, magnificent muscle tits and that gargantuan ass was proving to be very challenging, if not impossible. My muscles were all getting bigger and bigger, thicker and harder and stronger, and I was eating like a horse if a horse eats a fuck ton of chicken breasts and my arms and legs and shoulders were fat with power, but I couldn’t get those huge tits like Mr. Mann owned.

I was bitching about that when Mr. Mann explained that I had to build up this platform first, like laying the foundation for a muscle mansion, and make everything huge and strong before he would help me turn into the muscle tit whore butterfly hidden inside me. He introduced me to his diet regimen, which included enormous amounts of milk, which I thought was weird but who was I to argue with his obvious success, and some other high-protein shakes (more milk!) that were silky and oily and tasted a bit weird until I got used to them, and then I was suddenly craving them like nothing I ever swallowed before.

Once I started drinking Mr. Mann’s milk, my tits filled in practically overnight and my ass outgrew all my pants at the same time! I was so stoked to finally see my pecs bulging out like fucking globes off my chest, and at the same time my nipples got, like, super sensitive and I couldn’t stop playing with them. Shocker of shockers when they started leaking milk, but it tasted so good I started pumping my tits until I could spray milk right into my mouth!

And then my dick started growing longer and thicker, and I started getting taller, and my already thick muscles were getting even bigger—rounder, thicker, harder—and my brain was, like, totally focused on sex. Lots of sex. Tons and tons of sex. I couldn’t get enough, I was becoming a super whore. But Mr. Mann said there were others just like me, and like him, super whores with fat dicks and huge asses and giant muscle tits who craved sex 24/7 and Mr. Mann would introduce me to them—and them to me.

Fuck, it was amazing! Mr. Mann had this, like, palace of muscle or something! Rooms and rooms populated with huge muscle whores like me! Gary and Sven and Ramon and Chet and Ronnie and K.C. and Merle and… I mean, holy shit! So many amazing guys with amazing asses and amazing tits and handsome faces and insatiable sexual appetites that couldn’t be satisfied!

Finally Mr. Mann said he had a job for me, one I was particularly suitable for, to repay all the time, effort, training, supplies, and money he’d already poured into my development. I didn’t even ask what the job was, I was more than happy to start paying him back for turning me into my dream!

He explained that all I had to do was turn up at one of his clients’ houses and pretty much do whatever they wanted me to do. There were a few rules I needed to follow; be courteous and exceedingly polite at all times, lose my inhibitions at the door (easy, since I ain’t got none, hehe), don’t talk about money (since this is all taken care of before I get there), and be ready to engage in sexual activities constantly, cheerfully, and agreeably, and consent to any and all acts which do not place anyone in actual harm (which still leaves a lot to be constantly cheerful and agreeable about). S&M is perfectly acceptable, within the usual limits, plus I like getting pretty fucking kinky. It all seemed simple enough.

In return, all my expenses would be taken care of, I could either live on my own or with Mr. Mann with a more than fully equipped gym available 24/7 to keep getting fucking bigger, and I could have sex all the time with the others in his stable or with Mr. Mann himself, assuming he was available—and it seemed like he was always available! Of course it helped that orgies were going on pretty much all the time too. I guess that happens when your libido is constantly running in the red and your balls are swollen with cum pretty much from the time you wake up to the time you hit the hay, that is when you’re not pumping iron to make your muscles and tits and ass bigger!

My ass wouldn’t fit into any pants anymore and my tits were too big for regular shirts so he gave me this, like, banana hammock to slide my cock and balls into—you know, just so I don’t get arrested or something, not because I didn’t want every pair of eyes seeing the absolute gorgeous hunk of muscle whore I was now—and I get dropped off at this dude’s house.

Clearly the dude had money coming out of his ass, just judging by his place and how big it was and how beautiful the view was, but all I could think about was his hands on my body and his dick in my huge ass and his mouth on my nips and his cock in my mouth and my tits pumping milk all over the fucking place. I was so horny I felt like I was gonna explode, and by explode I mean fucking come all over the place, like fucking paint the walls with my cum and flood the flors with my milk.

I fucking love my job!


I’ve never fucked a guy with another guy fucking the same guy before, but I just stuck my dick inside Trevor’s ass and then Steve stuck his cock in beside mine and I was rubbing up against him, all hard and hot, fucking amazing, then Trevor’s ass kind of wrapped around us and squeezed and he started moaning and grabbed his own ankles and spread himself open for us and we fucking went to town on his huge, powerful ass and it was, like, the most incredible ass fuck ever!

Was it weird to invite my best friend over to fuck a dude I hired to fuck myself? I don’t even know exactly what possessed me, but when Trevor showed up and he was so fucking huge with that awesome, mind-blowing set of muscle tits and that ass like two beach balls and that face like a Greek statue and that cock like a fucking county fair prize winning cucumber all I could think of was sharing this bounty with someone, and who better than Steve?

Like, I got a hard-on just opening my front door to let the stud in. He showed up wearing nothing but a thong that was barely capable of holding all his junk, which was long, thick and heavy, and a Hawaiian shirt with the sleeves ripped out and completely unbuttoned because his chest was too large for any shirt and his biceps looked like they were 22 or 23 inches, easy.

Not to mention that he stood a head taller than me, and I’m six-two, so I usually tower over everyone at the bar and looking up into his handsome, smiling face was an unusual experience that turned me on. Probably being face-to-tits with him and those magnificent suckable nips helped with that.

Trevor was also an unusually happy dude. He just seemed overjoyed to be with me, like we were old friends—sorry, old fuck buddies who hadn’t seen each other in ages. He pulled me into a muscular embrace, nearly suffocating me in his muscle tit cleavage (Jesus, his skin is so soft and warm!) before leaning that handsome, boyish face down and pressing his lips to mine with a lusty, passionate kiss. I could feel that huge, thick length of sex meat bulging from his loins swelling against my body as we kissed, somehow and impossibly he was a grower and a show-er!

We were on the verge of fucking on my doorstep when I managed to come to my senses and invited the “pool boy” inside. He complimented my place while I studied his huge ass, wanting desperately to push my face between his beachball butt cheeks and push my tongue inside his delicious hole. He turned his head, perhaps knowing how much I was enjoying the view, and asked if he should start “cleaning the pool.”

I had completely forgotten the little fabrication that brought him here in the first place! And as much as I wanted to start having my way with all his huge and beautiful parts, I instead made my way around his muscular bulk—he was giving off an intense heat as if his hotness was somehow physically manifesting—and opened the sliding glass door to my backyard. He smiled again, looking absolutely blissed out to be of service to me, and ducked his head to go outside.

He started to gather the pool cleaning tools as if he actually intended to clean my pool! Which, holy shit, he then started to do!

He removed that loose shirt and stood at the edge of the clear blue water nearly naked, his sun-kissed skin starting to glisten with sweat that I needed to lick off him. My dick was still rock hard watching this epitome of muscular beauty and masculine perfection moving his butt to and fro like a small dance as he pushed the long-handled brush against the bottom of the pool, his shoulder and arm muscled flexing and bulging as he started cleaning.

I’m not shy so I wandered up and put my hand on that magnificent ass. I could have used three more hands to encompass all that gorgeous butt meat. He peered over his mountainous shoulder at me and smiled. I moved my hand to the warm sweatiness between the two massive hemispheres and he pushed his ass outwards to open that muscular crevasse to my touch and I slipped my fingers in between and touched the hot wetness of his hole.

Trevor moaned or purred and turned his face back around, twisting his head on his thickly muscled neck as I explored his ass and his hole. “Do you want to fuck me?” he growled.

“Who wouldn’t?”

He laughed slightly, a deep and masculine sound, and pulled the pool broom out and set it down, bending over to exposed his hungry hole to my hungry eyes. I practically ripped my shorts getting them off my body and my hard-on sprang up like a Jack-in-the-Box, slapping my belly with an audible thwack! No one had ever gotten me this horny and this hard in so short a time. Normally I had to have the help of a hand or a mouth to get my cock this steely, but with Trevor I was already drooling pre-cum and throbbing like a metronome.

I grabbed his absurdly thin waist—what was it, 30 inches? 28?—and shoved myself home, slapping his taint with my balls. He didn’t grunt or moan, he seemed to sigh as if this was the position he was most comfortable in, with someone’s thick, hard prick buried deep inside his hole. Like this was the position—the partnership—that he was built for.

I fucked and fucked and fucked him. His ass was tight and hot and wet, practically designed and built to be penetrated. I got all slick and sweaty under the summer sun by my pool but I couldn’t stop fucking him, it was like his ass was designed for this, a perfect ass for fucking. My whole cock was throbbing and tingling with the need to shove a thick load inside him, but maybe Trevor’s ass was magic or something because I was held there on the edge the whole time I was shoving my dick inside him, like feeling like I was gonna cum any second but prolonged for minutes.

That sensation of coming but not coming shook me and made me giddy and high, like a drug with no side effects. Trevor made me feel better than I had ever felt, it was like sex on top of sex, both passionate and filthy and entirely satisfying without ever shooting my load. It was nirvana.

My imagination was in overdrive and suddenly I knew that I had to share this experience with someone or it wouldn’t be … real. Like, I needed a witness, and since pictures and videos of my time with Trevor were strictly verboten, the only thing left was to text my friend Steve who I knew without a doubt would enjoy the view and the experience with Trevor as powerfully as I. Somewhat reluctantly (on both our parts, I’m sure) I pulled my still throbbing, still drooling cock out of Trevor’s magical hole, pulled my shorts back up, and went inside to find my phone.

After texting him I went back outside, determined to save my hard-on for Steve’s arrival. So instead of more endless fucking, I engaged “Trevor the naked pool boy” in some conversation to sate my curiosity concerning this man’s incredibly anatomy and more about The Mann Agency. I sat on a lounger near where he cleaned my pool—and he was really cleaning it! He wasn’t just idly going through the motions! And that was a weird kind of turn-on too, kind of a master and slave thing I guess, though that type of thing was never in my boathouse … before.

Trevor was polite, friendly, and eager to please. He had a smile that would light up the Coliseum, and a body straight out of every musclehead’s wet dreams. Massive, MASSIVE pecs with these huge, suckable nipples, an unbelievably small waist on a man that huge, arms with football-sized bis and tris, abs for days, shoulders as wide as a soccer field, and a butt like two over-inflated beach balls sticking out behind like pillows I wanted to rest my head on as I slipped my face between them to lick his warm, wet, perfectly fuckable asshole.

“Thank you for allowing me to come over today,” he said, his voice like the deep rumble of a 7.5 earthquake. “I’m very happy you selected me.”

“Well, I mean, to be honest I didn’t select you, specifically. Don’t get me wrong, you’re … absolutely fucking perfect.” He seemed to shudder slightly with bliss as I complimented him. “It would be helpful if there were, like, a website or something that allows perspective clients to do that, though.”

“I understand,” he said, smiling beautifully. He leaned on the handle of the pool brush, pushing his ass out as if he needed fucking. His turquoise eyes moved along my reclining body and rested on my crotch. “Would you like to apply tanning oil to my body?” He started moving his free hand over the insane dimensions of his insane bulging bubble butt. “I would hate to get sunburned.”

I didn’t even answer, I simply got up, adjusted my raging stiffy, reached for the bottle, and he came over to let me stroke and rub and grope his powerful, magnificent, and huge body.

It was an erotic experience I would have a hard time matching. He stood there like a good soldier as I smeared oil all over his massive bulges and his eyes were locked on my face with adoring dedication. He lifted his arms and made his biceps swell and I rubbed oil all over those huge balls of hard steel. He turned around and I drizzled oil on his wide, rippling back and watched the glistening lubrication slide down between his muscles and spread itself over the mind-bending arch of his massive butt, and I used my hands to spread the oil everywhere, slipping my fingers between those huge ass cheeks and teasing his hole with my fingers.

I spread the oil everywhere until Trevor was a gleaming edifice to masculine perfection. I stood back up and wandered around his body making sure I hadn’t missed an inch of his warm, smooth, hairless skin. Then he reached down and grabbed my dick, squeezing firmly. “Can I suck your cock?” he asked.

“Um, sure.”

He thumbed his fat nipples a bit, licked his full, soft lips, took my hand in his, almost gentle in demeanor, and we walked over to the lounge. I lay back down and he sank to his knees. “I hope I’m not being too forward, Mr. McDonald.” He kissed my chest and belly and sweaty pubic bush.

“You can call me Brian.”

He smiled but didn’t say anything before dipping his head towards my exposed prick, grabbing me in his warm, smooth palm and pushing his mouth over my hard-on.

I mean, I expected the man to be a professional, and I’ve had cocksuckers on my meat that I would call experts before, men and women who clearly adored cocks and sucking on them, worshiping them, making me feel so much pleasure that it was a wonder I didn’t instantly start pumping cum inside their talented mouths, but Trevor put them all to shame. If cocksucking was an Olympic sport, they’d have to invent a new platinum medal just for him!

He was clearly enjoying this part of the job. Slurping, licking, sucking, kissing, playing with the head with his tongue, drooling on my erection and stroking me as he licked the pre leaking from my piss slit, all while maintaining eye contact with me with adoring dedication. My hands were grasping the slim cushion as waves of sexual ecstasy wracked my body.

And this was just a blow job!

I don’t know how long he worked on my hard-on but after some time my phone let me know someone was at the front door and gazing sideways as I moaned and squirmed with barely contained bliss I saw Steve’s face looking into the camera. “Trevor,” I said, rubbing my hand through his blue-black hair, “I have to answer the door.”

He pulled his mouth off my dick, wiping at the corner of his mouth and grinning happily before asking, “Would you like me to do that for you?”

He was so eager to please! “No, I think I want you to be a surprise. I invited a friend over to share you, if that’s all right.”

He licked his lips, squeezed my hard-on and smiled. “Just one friend?”

I smiled back. “We’ll have fun.”

He sat up onto his haunches and pushed his massive pecs forward, making them flex and bounce powerfully. I wanted desperately to latch onto his thick nipples and suck on them, teasing his sensitive nubs with my teeth and tongue. “I can’t wait.” He stood up—and up—and up. His dick was throbbing hard and leaking pre and his whole body was shiny with sweat, almost glistening in the sun. “Should I come with you?” He reached up and started twisting his nipples, and it almost looked like something white started dripping from between his pinched fingers. It made his cock throb and twitch.

“No, you should be cleaning the pool. I want him to be part of the fantasy.”

“As you wish,” he said, turning around to display that amazing ass before leaning over again, exposing his hole to me, and starting to clean the pool with surprising diligence and attention, almost like he was getting off just following my orders.

Now, Steve and I go way back. We’ve done things to each other and with each other and for each other to the extent that there really aren’t any boundaries between us. I mean, I don’t want to marry him or anything, but the dude can fuck like a pile driver and suck like a Dyson so there are obviously a lot of advantages to our friendship. And if anyone was going to appreciate the man I hired to clean my pool, it was Steve.

I think he started drooling, like, literally, the second he saw Trevor’s huge ass. Bubble butt doesn’t even begin to describe what the man owned, more like moon butt or Jupiter butt. As he was scrubbing the bottom of the admittedly already spotlessly clean pool, he was shifting and flexing those massive glutes like dancing planets, knowing full well the effect that slow sashay would be having on my dick and libido.

Steve whispered something—”Holy fuck” I think—and he was already reaching down to his crotch to adjust his swelling meat. Trevor seemed to have an almost supernatural ability to know what we were looking at on his magnificent body, swelling the massive cables of raw muscle on his shoulders ad upper arms as he pushed the pool tools through the water or swaying the huge round globes of his ass in a slow, erotic dance.


I think I mentioned how much I love my job, but I might love myself even more. I just want to get bigger and bigger because the guys I’m with spring immediate, intense, throbbing boners just looking at me and I get off on that.

I mean, I get off on everything, now. It’s like my sex drive is dialed up to eleven and the fuck needle is constantly pushed into the red. I wake up horny and I go to sleep horny. I’m horny when I’m walking down the street and I’m horny when I’m lying on a bed. My dick is like this constant alarm going off telling the world I’m ready to fuck and be fucked, though if I’m honest getting fucked is the best feeling in the world.

Didn’t used to be. It kind of hurt before my ass got so huge, but now it almost feels like I’m incomplete without a rock hard dick sliding in and out of my hungry hole.

Maybe it feels so good because of how sensitive everything is now. I mean, I can feel everything with an intensity that borders on insanity. A dude’s hands on my skin make my balls sizzle and full with cum. A mouth on my tit, teeth and tongue teasing my ultra-sensitive nips, starting to draw forth that rich, creamy milk that drives men wild. Kisses on my mouth, my dick being licked and sucked, everything feels awesome.

But almost nothing compares to the ultimate pleasure of being well and truly fucked. I can’t get enough of it. It’s more than a craving, it’s an obsession. I have a difficult time maintaining my composure when faced with a really huge cock arching up all thick and proud, because all I want in that moment is to feel the owner showing his monster inside me so deep that I begin, finally, to feel satisfied.

Mr. Mann even has a name for it, that sensation. He calls it The Fulfillment. I mean, not exactly original but it’s actually a perfect description. Because it’s not like a climax. It’s not the end of something, it’s the peak of something. Like I’ve been working towards something all my life, something to complete me, to make me whole and to perfectly complete me, to bring every sensation of pleasure together into one amazing, colossal, overwhelming feeling that takes over.

And that’s not even the best part! The best part is when someone’s fucking my hole really hard and someone else is sucking my tits and I start to approach this new plateau of pleasure just before everything—my dick and my tits—start pumping cream.

I sort of feel bad for guys who’ve never experienced it before, having your balls pumping cum up the thick throbbing inches of your dick while your huge pecs start shoving rich, warm fountains of muscle milk and you’re coming out of everywhere! It’s an orgasm on top of an orgasm inside an orgasm coated with cum! It’s so awesome I wish every dude could do it!

And being with another Mann Agency himbo is, well, there’s nothing else like it!

Except, of course, being with Mr. Mann himself. Maybe because he’s been a himbo for so long and he’s learned things the rest of us haven’t yet, or maybe it’s because even though I know I’m the horniest motherfucker on the planet, Mr. Mann is several steps hornier than I am. Insatiable doesn’t even start to cover his sex drive. It’s no wonder he’s always on the lookout for new guys to add to his stable because being with Mr. Mann is like diving into a pool of pure erotic and orgasmic bliss and being swallowed whole by it.

Anyway, when my client, Mr. McDonald, came back with his friend Mr. Petrovich, it was clear from the dude’s immediate hard-on that he was into me and what I had to offer. Not every dude is, of course, everyone’s tastes in what turns them on is different, but you kind of know that a guy’s into you when his cock inflates to full readiness the second he lays his eyes on you.

My dick is pretty big, just like the rest of me, and I’ve seen some guys get a little scared when confronted with ten thick inches of fully-engorged fuck meat. But not Mr. Petrovich! If anything, my giant cock and balls only made his dick get harder! I knew I was going to have some fun with these two, and that they’d soon experience a fuckfest of such grand and glorious extents that they’d never forget it.

I also knew that I just made two clients for life, because after me there was no way any other fuck was going to compare.

I’m not boasting or bragging, you understand. It’s just a fact. I know from personal experience what fucking and sucking a member of the Mann Agency is like, because my sex drive is so high that when I’m not engaged with clients I need to have another Mann man to satisfy me. Even when I’m working out, making my pecs even bigger and doing so many squats that my ass won’t even fit into pants there’s another Mann dude there to lick my hole and tease my nips and stroke my dick. I know that sounds dangerous, shoving hundreds of pounds of iron around to build my muscles while some dude is simultaneously pleasuring me, but I have to tell you that there’s nothing else quite like it. Feeling my body growing bigger, feeling my muscles sing with pain as I make myself grow stronger, pushing that barbell off my huge chest while some incredibly sexy and handsome man eats my hole? Perfection.

Mr. McDonald and Mr. Petrovich (they asked me to refer to them by their first names but that’s against one of Mr. Mann’s rules regarding clients) went to town after a few minutes of Mr. Petrovich’s eyes bulging out of his head trying to take every inch of my body in. I’ve been told I’m “unbelievable” but it only takes a second of your hands on my body to know I’m 100% real and 100% sexy.

Sometimes I feel like I can’t not be sexy, even if I tried. With this phat ass and this big dick and these massive muscle tits mounted on my chest with those thick, juicy nipples just begging to be twisted and chewed on and sucked I’m like a walking advertisement for fucking, which is exactly what Mr. Mann requires of all his agents. Even if I could fit my body into regular clothes I don’t think I would. I fucking love showing myself off, and being drooled over by horny guys and worshipped for my naked perfection.

I just want to fuck and be fucked forever. And keep getting bigger and bigger and sexier.


The second hour of our time with Trevor was just Brian and me watching him clean the pool, and swim, and pleasure himself with his thick fingers up his ass while one hand pinched and squeezed and fondled his nipple, spraying thick fountains of milk from his tits, while his other hand stroked his constant erection as it drooled pools of pre along its thick, hard neck and his balls swelled bigger and bigger with cum.

We were both worn out by the dude but he kept on going. We even had to move farther away from him because just being around him was like sitting by a furnace giving off sex heat in constant powerful waves.

He watched us and smiled sometimes, other time he was evidently so engrossed in his own jerk off session that he seemed to forget we were even there. He was unabashedly open about his body and his cravings for sex and being touched and fondled. I thought about calling a few more friends over just to handle his insatiable appetite for pleasure—both giving it and getting it—but in the end Brian and me slipped into a kind of sex hypnosis watching Trevor’s on-going and unending sexuality.

“Can you give me the number?” Brian asked me.

“What number?”

“The…agency. Mann Agency.”

“Sure,” I answered, feeling a sudden strong flush of orgasmic bliss erupt along the inches of my non-stop hard on, and all I was doing was watching Trevor out by the pool.

“Cool,” he said.

Trevor groaned and shot a thick volley of hot cum from his foot-high hard-on, splattering himself in another copious load of sticky cream.


Mr. Mann says to always keep an eye out for new talent. That’s what he calls us, the men in his stable—the talent. I guess I do have a talent for fucking if that’s what he means. Otherwise I only enjoy working out and getting bigger and bigger.

Mr. Mann has only a few rules for becoming part of his world, and if you’re like me they’re super easy to follow. Number one, provide pleasure. That seems like a simple instruction but it’s so simple that it has a ton of different meanings. First, provide pleasure for yourself. Luckily, everything I do that involves me being naked and having some cocks in my mouth or my ass or my hands, and making the other dude smile and come—that provides pleasure for me.

Second, and more obviously, provide pleasure for everyone you’re with. That means how you look, how you feel—your soft skin, your hard muscles, your wet tongue, your talented hands—be constantly providing pleasure. Again, I love having dudes feeling me up, every inch of me, nothing is off limits. Stroke my cock, kiss my lips, rub my nips, lick my hole, I’m 100% available for anything your heart or dick desires.

Rule number two, erase the word “no” from your vocabulary. We’re here to be used for the pleasure of our partners, like I just outlined, and that means being happy to do whatever they want to do. Again, being a cum bucket cock whore ass demon helps with that. You want to explore your filthier thoughts and ideas? I’m here for you. I want to do what you want to do.

Finally, improve your body to showcase your talents and drive the desires of those you’re with. Your face, your muscles, your ass, your chest, your cock, your balls, everything about you should announce clearly and beyond any doubt that you are built to please, your body is made to fuck and be fucked. Your voice should inspire lust, your words should invite being fondled and used, your eyes should sparkle with overt desire, your smile should bring men to you.

As a himbo under Mr. Mann’s charge, you have but one goal, and only one thirst to be quenched, only one thing to satisfy your needs and desires, and that is to please others using every tool and talent in your wide and deep arsenal of physical, emotional, and sensual tools built and designed specifically to be of service to others.

Anyway, I was at the gym which is hardly unusual, I mean I’m there practically every day, doing squats to make my ass bigger and rounder, or presses to increase the size of my monster pecs, which makes my super sensitive nipples bigger too, or even running on the treadmill because I love the feeling of all my huge muscles bouncing and heaving. I was doing that after a pretty strenuous routine of leg presses just to keep the muscle flexible and he walked in, and I knew as soon as I spied him that he was prime for joining the Agency.

For one thing, the dude was stacked and ripped. I mean, his tits were practically spilling out of that little tank top he wore, which I knew he was wearing just to show off his chest. He wanted us to look, and he knew we’d get off on those massive muscle tits. I’m supposed to wear a top, too, but curiously no one ever complains when I don’t.

Well, maybe not so curiously. Judging by all the hard-ons I observe springing up in all the other dudes’ shorts when I’m there. The whole gym is walled with mirrors so it’s kinda hard to avoid seeing me, since I’m like 6 foot 4 and have a huge, muscled rack like two beach balls mounted on my chest and my ass is too big to fit into any shorts, so half of my butt is hanging out all the time. The gym owners finally just allowed me to work out in nothing but a thong. When you think about it, it makes perfect sense. I was a walking, strutting, muscle swole advertisement for their services, plus in West Hollywood having a himbo working out is better than a yearly discount on gym fees. What gay dude doesn’t want to watch a man like me working out nearly naked with my fat dick and heavy balls squeezed into a barely-there pouch of stretchy fabric?

So, in walks this new guy—and I call him new because I’d never seen him before and holy fucking God I certainly would have noticed him before. Along with that huge chest and a butt that looked like an advertisement for ass fucking, he head a gorgeous face with a chiseled jawline and a scruff of a beard and his long, shiny hair was tied back in a thong that made the end of his pony tail tickle the deep crevasse between each round butt muscle.

He didn’t see me at first, jogging on the treadmill with my tits and ass bouncing and my skin glistening with sweat. My muscles were fat with power after my own two-hour workout and if a dude wasn’t sporting an Olympic boner before I started my cardio, they were certainly doing so now, even the so-called straight guys couldn’t help but drool over my massive tits and silver dollar-sized nipples, heavy and suckable.

The treadmills are all along the same wall as the entrance, so he walked in looking straight ahead and didn’t notice me at first. Or maybe he did and he was playing it cool or something, as if I wasn’t starting to grow my own massive erection watching that long, dark hair tickle his ass as he walked with unvarnished pride in his own body towards the locker rooms at the back of the gym.

I mean, I had another 15 minutes or so of cooldown to go but there was no way on this fucking planet I was going to miss this muscled sexy-as-fuck man strip naked.

It isn’t like I have a well-developed sense of gaydar or something. I mean, every dude is into me whether he wants to be or not. My silky skin, my smile, my absolutely gigantic muscle tits and fat, bubblicious ass are all just begging to be fondled and worshipped, and heaven knows I’m happy to suck on your cock whether you’re into men or chicks or no one at all. Gimme a hard prick to worship and I’ll spend a good hour or so making that prick’s owner happier than a whore in Vegas.


What can I say, I’m an exhibitionist. I worked hard on my body and I like showing it off, I like people watching me showing off, I like people complimenting me and touching me and understanding that I am something special, something unusual, something beautiful.

It’s like I’m advertising my talents with every stride, because I look good and I know it. I get off on getting guys off, and lately I can do that without hardly trying. I mean, I dress to heighten the effect of my muscles and cock, staying just inside the law as far as how much skin I show and how overtly I showcase my 8-inch cock.

That’s eight inches limp, by the way. Thick and heavy, shoved inside my overburdened jockstrap so my bulge sticks out far enough to rub up against another dude’s crotch while I’m still approaching him. My balls are huge, too, filled with cum 24/7 and ready to blast a thick load of warm, sticky cum out of my cannon whenever I need release, which is pretty much always.

I think I was born this way, but I sure did my best to improve things by hitting the gym like going to church so my muscles were as impressive and massive as my dick and balls. I’m no slacker when it comes to working out, and I’m no poser when it comes to pumping iron. I did my research and I know how to use my gym time to take maximum advantage of the pump as well as getting naked in the showers and showing off my body.

Oh! Did I mention that I’m also a whore? Huge whore. As huge as every other part of my body. Fucking love fucking, and it doesn’t matter to me if I’m the one fucking or the one getting fucked—and preferably both at once! Nothing like nutting inside a nice, warm ass while some dude it blowing his load inside mine.

I’ve been told my ass feels better than pussy. Maybe I should get business cards with that.

I was new in town and eager to explore what this place had available to me. I’d heard a lot about West Hollywood, how all the guys look like fitness models crossed with porn stars and every one of them was so horned up that I could walk down any street and feel a mouth sucking my dick in seconds. It was said to be like this open market for ass fucking, an open air supermarket of gay sex where all you needed to do was smile and you’d have a trio of handsome, naked, talented dudes all over your body.

But, like most tales, this one was more fable than reality. At least so far. So what’s a horny whore do under these circumstances? Go to where the sweaty dudes are pumping up and strut my stuff, of course.

What surprised me though was that even though I walked in to this place looking like I do and sporting a half-hard cock ready to be sucked or fucked, not every eye was locked on my bod. As I scanned the assembled crowd of a couple dozen handsome faces, most of them were looking elsewhere, so when I turned around to see what was capturing the attention of so many pairs of eyes and hungry swollen cocks, what do I see but the most beautiful man in the world.

This dude was massive, in every way. Not just massive, but fucking sexy as fuck and unbelievably stacked. He was on a treadmill, jogging in place, but what I was watching defied reality as I knew it and redefined for me what a man could and should be.

He locked eyes with me instantly and smiled, and something about his glance and his mouth announced quite loudly and without any words that not only had I met my match in the annals of male whoredom, but I was looking at my new god of sex.

His chest was bouncing with every stride, illustrating its size and beauty and power, and he owned two fat, huge nipples like I had never seen before. He wore almost nothing, only managing to hide his obviously huge dick and balls in a soft, elastic pouch that was doing its utmost to encase the impressive length of fuck meat the man owned, proudly bouncing and swinging around his crotch without the slightest sign of self-consciousness. The man was justifiably proud of his body and his equipment and was doing as little as possible to hide any of it.

My breath was taken away by his awesome gorgeous muscular beauty. Biceps as big as footballs mounted on his upper arms. A waist so narrow and an upper body so wide that it was a fucking miracle he didn’t fall over, but one look at his 8-pack abs, so carefully developed and perfectly formed that one might think they were CG’d in for a comic book superhero movie.

Only this comic book superhero was sex on two legs. I had to fuck him, or he had to fuck me, or preferably both. My dick was pulsing hard and swelling larger, my mouth went dry, and I knew at once that whoever that dude was, we were going to be naked one way or another.

Next thing I knew the dude with the massive muscle tits and the bouncing cock was beckoning me over, with that invitation of a smile still on his dick-sucking kissable lips.


Even though I’m an Agency man, there are no rules that state that I can’t fuck whomever I want to on my own time. Mr. Mann isn’t cruel or anything, plus he knows that “practice makes perfect.” The more I fuck, the better I am at fucking. The more I learn what my partners like, the more I pay attention to their signals and respond positively, the better Agency man I become. What’s good is it being a super whore if I’m not getting constantly fucked, anyway?

I mean, me and Stuart, the dude at the gym’s front desk who lets me in wearing my thong and nothing else, usually have a nice fuckfest in the locker room after my workout because his girlfriend won’t let him come in her and I let him pump a load or two or three inside my ass with immense glee. (He’s the dude who told me my ass feels better than pussy, by the way.) Fucking love feeling that dude’s cock spraying my guts with goo!

The dude turns around and sees me and has like an instant hard-on, which I’m not totally unaccustomed to, let’s be honest. Half the dudes I encounter just walking down the street get hard and it’s one of my favorite things to fondle and squeeze all those stiff cocks while my own starts throbbing and swelling in response.

I know immediately that we’re gonna fuck. No way we won’t. It’s as inevitable as the tides and the sunrise. That dude’s cock is gonna be inside me before I’m even off this treadmill!

But then I start considering how we’d manage to fuck while I’m doing cardio and it seems like the better choice is to invite him into the showers with me and my hungry ass. My whole body, every inch, is coated in sweat and glistening. My muscles are massive, my cock is dripping, and my ass needs someone inside it.

He comes over and he’s practically drooling like my dick. His eyes are wide like saucers and he’s licking his lips like a man who hasn’t eaten in days. “Hi,” I say, stopping the treadmill and slowing my muscle bouncing. I’m panting, pulling in deep breaths after my run, making my magnificent chest swell and receded, slightly bouncing the thick, heavy meat with evident joy at my incredible size. I scan him up and down, paying attention to his body language, the way his hands clench, the intense focus his eyes are keeping on my chest, the way he bites his bottom lip staring at the deep valley of warm flesh between each beach ball sized pectoral globe. “I’m Trevor.” I reach up and take my nipples between my fingers, pinching and twisting the rubbery nubs. “Wanna fuck these muscle tits? Slide your stiff cock between my pecs as my spit lubes the way until you shoot a thick load in my mouth?”

“Fuck yes,” he responds, and for a minute I think he’s gonna rip off his clothes and come at me right there and then. Not that I would deny him anything, of course, but I promised Stuart that any fucking I did in the gym wouldn’t be on the weight room floor. The locker room, sure. The showers, preferably (nothing to clean up if I get messy, and come all over the place, which has been known to happen more frequently than one might imagine—my balls work overtime now that Mr. Mann turned me into a himbo whore) but just not out here where anyone might walk in.

To be honest, it never made sense to me. Why can’t I get fucked on the gym floor? I’m practically naked as it is. My hole is ready. And it’s not like all the dudes already staring at my tits and lusting after my ass are gonna complain if I start letting them gang up on me and fuck me senseless, am I right? The more the merrier! I suppose it comes down (heh) to that messy problem I tend to have. Even though I’d happily volunteer to lick up every drop until the floor is cleaner than my own tight, pink hole.

By the way, if you’ve never had more than one cock in your hole, I highly recommend it. It takes some practice, sure, but the benefits are many! So what if one dude comes too quickly? If he got off, I’m happy. And there’s always another dick still pumping away, another set of balls building up a thick, warm load, another man lusting after my ass who wants to make us both happy.

Pleasure is the goal. The only and everlasting goal. Pure pleasure.

My dick is now rising and swelling because my nipples are hardwired to my loins, and every tease and squeeze on them sends a bright, electric thrill of sex into my cock. My balls are already full, and my tits are starting to feel like they need a good milking by an eager mouth that knows how to suck. “Did you want to get your workout in first? Although…” I pause, leaning my head over, arching an eyebrow, and allowing my lustful gaze to warm his flesh as I ogle with open and unbridled carnality at every inch of his carefully honed muscular perfection, “it would appear to these eyes that you’re already perfect as-is.”

He smiles at my compliment—I file this away, the man has an ego needing to be fed, and I adore paying handsome men compliments—and then actually blushes! My heart can hardly stand it, and my dick surges anew. “I need to pay more attention to my legs. I think my ass could be bigger.”

“Oh? I might be able to offer some pointers in that area.” And then I slowly pivot in place and my huge, thick, round butt starts coming into view like a sunrise. His gaze shifts south and I watch is mouth drop open and his breath catch as he tries to fully take in and somehow accept the reality-bending dimensions of the biggest, roundest, most beautiful man ass he has ever seen. I move my hand slowly over one massive hump of gluteus super maximus before I slide one, two, three fingers into the deep crack that leads to the tightest, hottest, wettest, better-than-pussy hole this side of the Mississippi.

“Holy fuck!”

I slide my fingers along my crack. “Others have said so, but I invite you to see for yourself.”

“That is the most amazing ass I have ever seen!”

“Thank you, uh…?”

“Christian.” He offers his hand and as I pivot back, I push my thick, firm cock into his grip and sigh happily as he squeezes me hard. “Jesus,” he says, his gaze switching now to take in the fat inches of my growing monster.

“Some men find me overwhelming.”

“You’re like a wet dream come true, Trevor. You’re the epitome of masculine perfection. What I wouldn’t give for…”

“For an ass that stops traffic and a pair of muscle tits that make grown men drool and a horse cock so big that you have trouble fitting it into pants?”

“Yes, yes, and fuuuuuuuck yes.”

“Why don’t you and I head to the showers and talk about that?”


“Well, my mouth and tongue will definitely be involved and you can put your lips anywhere you want to.” I leaned down towards him from my perch on the treadmill, dipping my huge tits and my fuckable muscle cleavage towards his hungry eyes. “As far as words, I’m thinking there will be more grunting and moaning and crying out with intense bliss taking the place of more logical considerations.”

He sighed dreamily.

“I want you to fuck my face, but don’t cum. And then fuck my chest. But don’t cum. And then fuck my ass. And fuck my ass. And fuck my ass. And cum like you’re a fucking geyser.”

“I think I can do that.”

“I love a man who knows what he can accomplish when he puts his mind to it.”


I’m used to men trying to literally charm the pants off me. And I’d be lying if I said I didn’t enjoy that particular game, because it is a game, except that if done correctly, there is always more than one winner.

Trevor was everything I had ever dreamed of. I mean that when I had dreams of fantasy men, those dreams were populated by a man like Trevor. His handsome face, his ready smile, his massive ass, those luscious tits and nips, his ready and well-equipped cock, his silken smooth skin, those dazzling eyes somehow making me feel naked without removing a stitch of clothing.

He was like a physical embodiment of sex. It radiated from his body like heat. It pulsed into me, matching my heartbeat, driving my cock to swell and thicken. It was a palpable sensation like the heavy bass beat on the dance floor or the thick sweaty humidity saturating your skin in a sauna.

And I had the distinct impression that this what not merely my imagination driven into overdrive by his presence, it was more than that, both deeper and more powerful than desire. Something about him physically—something in addition to his overwhelming physical and raw carnal appearance, something like pheromones, the pure perfume of male sex—was surrounding me like a fog. I was spellbound.

He said something about talking, yet talking was the last thing on my mind.

“Talk?” I responded at one point, confused. Because I was certain that any time I spent with this man would be time I would cherish for years or the rest of my life, but I did not want to spend any of that time talking. He was moving his mouth in response, and I was watching his lips moving, imagining kissing them, imagining watching them sliding along my prick, imagining them kissing the nape of my neck and my nipples and the tip of my throbbing cock, sucking the precum from its thick stalk as I shove its head against the back of his throat.

But then he told me he wanted me to fuck various parts of his impressively fuckable physique, ending with a deep and complete rogering of his tight, perfect, lickable fuck hole, and culminating in a very satisfying explosion of cum on both our parts.

His face—his mouth—his lips—were very close as he spoke his last words. “I love a man who knows what he can accomplish when he puts his mind to it.”

I nearly came on the spot. It probably helped that his barely sheathed prick was in my hand, warm and firm and throbbing, an intimate and powerful indication of his own massive arousal.

It was clear from only these few moments together that with Trevor I had found the perfect lover, a man built for pleasure, for satisfaction, for a sexual experience so far beyond anything I had so far enjoyed that everything up to this point was like a dress rehearsal, and the curtain was about to go up.

I didn’t want to take my hand from his cock, and he didn’t seem to want that either, somehow maneuvering that massive muscular body off the treadmill to stand next to me without ever allowing my hand to come are from stroking and squeezing him. He was tall, taller than I am and I’m 6-1, so I ain’t small under any definition except maybe a basketball team roster.

With my hand on his prick, he leaned his face towards mine and parted his lips and pressed them to mine, pushing his warm, wet tongue into my mouth as he pressed that massive chest against me, moaning and sighing with pleasure.

It was more than an introductory kiss, it was a promise. A promise of things to come, a promise of his skills as a lover and a fucker, a promise that this was only the slightest example of what he would do to me, and what he expected me to do to him. I had a serious desire to fuck him right there, and I had the impression that he wanted that, too. And who would object if we ripped our clothes off right there in the gym and I shoved him on his wide, muscular back and pushed my drooling prick into his hole and fucked him silly?

Turns out I wasn’t the first to succumb to his charms and this apparently had happened before, because out of seemingly nowhere the dude at the front counter comes running up waving his hands with a look of panic on his face yelling “No fucking! No fucking!” at us.

My new companion looked decidedly disappointed, but not surprised. “Okay,” he replied, even as he made his cock swell in my hand even harder and bigger. “I needed a shower, anyway.” Then he looked at me and winked. “How about you, handsome? Want to get hot and wet with me?”

“I already am,” I reported, and he laughed. So did the front desk dude, for that matter.

Then the front desk dude was physically trying to push the huge muscular bulk of the sexiest man on the planet towards the back of the gym where the locker rooms and the showers were presumably located, and with my hand grasping and rubbing the big man’s huge hard-on, we awkwardly strode across the floor of the gym towards the back where I hoped that we’d finally start fucking each other. And maybe that handsome, flustered front desk dude—who wasn’t as built as this colossus I had in my hand but he was no slouch, either, with some seriously big arms and a nicely formed chest under his t-shirt—might join us.


Love is too strong a word for how I feel about Trev. I mean, I like him a lot, he’s really sweet and charming and so accommodating and, let’s face it, built like a gay man’s fantasy wet dream and since I am a gay man and I have fantasy wet dreams about him, it’s great that Trev is also so amenable to being lusted after and worshipped for all his physical charms, which are probably even more amazing than his emotional ones.

Like, the guy has no boundaries at all! None that I have found. He’s ready, willing and more than able to fulfill every wish, desire, and filthy request you could invent for him. It’s like he was designed to be the ultimate fuck, and the ultimate fucker, and the ultimate, well, everything—as long as it involves some form of sexual pleasure and his involvement using the mind-bending talents at his disposal.

Literally, and I mean literally, there is nothing I have ever wanted to do that he wasn’t happy to do with me. I’m sure if I wanted to have public sex with him in a bowling alley in the center lane with me pushing my dick in his warm, tight, welcoming asshole while sucking on his massive muscle titties and swallowing down that warm, sweet, delicious cream his nipples produce and he fingers my hole and caresses my naked flesh with his talented hands, he’d be naked before I finished the sentence.

So when I see him start making eyes at some dude in the gym I know damn well that it’s only a matter of time—and usually just seconds—before he’s going to start something that involves him being naked and erect and some other dude having the time of his life being subjected to Trev’s overwhelming and unstoppable erotic impulses.

Unfortunately for me and whatever horny dude he’s taken an interest in, I’m also in charge of, like, not getting the gym shut down because two (or three (or five (or twelve))) dudes have taken up Trev on his offer and are now naked, sweaty, and pumping cum like geysers. So I have to nip that in the bud before his bud starts fountaining cream like Old Faithful.

Which, for the record, isn’t out of the question when it comes to Trevor’s tool, which is a fucking miracle cock when you take into account that the guy can stay hard for hours, even after he’s managed to come three times!

Anyway, I keep my eye on him, both to make sure the sex stays out of sight as well as just the pleasure of watching a man with a huge, bubble butt and the biggest pair of muscle tits I’ve ever seen flaunting his beauty and sexuality so openly.

Maybe I do love Trev! I never really thought about it. Is lust the same as love? I’m not certain he’d make a good partner, though, seeing as how the dude will have sex at the drop of a hat with literally any dude who propositions him. The term whore doesn’t even begin to describe him. He’s insatiable.

So, I see him and this other guy I don’t know and Trev more or less pushes his own cock into the other guy’s grip and I can see it growing bigger, which isn’t unusual, and his nipples are engorging, which means he’s in heat or whatever you call it when a guy’s libido climbs into the red and his body is giving off the kind of signals that means he’s ready to fuck. In Trev’s case, those signals are like sirens going off when you’re standing next to a fire truck.

So I run over—like, I’m literally running—and I’m yelling “No fucking! No fucking!” which were the first words to come to my brain, but naturally all that did was draw attention to the scene already unfolding and suddenly every eye in that sweaty church of muscle worship turns towards the tableau taking shape at the treadmills.

Now, I know for a fact that every dude in that building wants to fuck Trev. For all I know, most or all of them already have! Like I said, the guy doesn’t have the word “no” in his vocabulary. He told once he was a himbo, whatever that means, and he said it like it was his calling or that himbos are like some new form of human male or something, or like a new race of humans with massive tits and a massive ass and a face like a model and muscles like a superhero. Looking at the guy I could hardly contradict him. I haven’t seen anyone else with that massive rack mounted on his chest or that huge pair of glutes bouncing on his butt, not to mention his muscular build which is bigger than most bodybuilders but so smooth and soft that you want to cuddle with all those hard, round masses of brawn while your cock is buried balls deep in his butt.

So I start to hustle this dynamic duo off the gym floor so I don’t have to explain to some angry cop why the whole place is engaged in a naked orgy with a six-and-a-half foot tall, big-dick bodybuilder at the center of it all spraying cum out of his boundless balls and squirting milk from his big, chewable nipples.

Oh! Plus I wanted in on the action, so….


Stuart was upset, which I understand. The world isn’t quite ready for someone like me, at least not yet. With Mr. Mann’s encouragement there might soon be more than just a handful of us himbos out there making other guys hard as rocks and ready to start fucking. But for the time being I could understand his reluctance to allow me and Christian to have some fun before we took ourselves somewhere a little more private.

I knew Stuart wanted to join in. I could smell it on him. Since becoming a himbo and with Mr. Mann’s awesome tutelage, my recognition of another man’s heightened libido was like radar pinging loud and clear that his dick was ready for sucking.

I mean, most guys’ dicks are always ready for sucking, if you know what I mean, but some guys are, like, really ready.

And Stuart definitely was.

Christian seemed like the type of guy who would mind sharing, but to be fair I asked him anyway.

“Can Stuart join us?”

“Who’s Stuart?”

“I am,” Stuart said. “But I should stay at the front desk.”

I reached down and cupped his crotch, feeling the heat of his cock and balls and a very definite surge of growth taking place. “Are you sure?” I asked. I knew I could handle them both, and I always want more than one cock in my ass. It’s like since becoming a himbo, just one cock hardly suffices. Or just one man. Or just one…anything.

Fuck, I love being a himbo super whore!

Stuart looked like a dog who needed a boner, and he said “Let me just…” and dashed away, I guess to put up a sign or something. Then he was back and his hand was on my ass, caressing my phat muscular pillow and inching his fingers towards my wet, hungry hole.

By now everyone was watching us, and I could feel the sexual heat in the room climbing like a July day in the Mojave desert, so I said “Whoever wants to join us, we’ll be in the showers. But Christian cums first.” Then I looked at him, and smiled, and made my cock swell and throb. “I hope that’s okay. I’m super horny and I don’t think you and Stuart can manage to handle my thirst.”

“It’s okay with me,” Christian agreed, squeezing my dick again. “As long as I get to fuck that amazing ass.”

“The line forms behind me!” Stuart announced as men started dropping whatever they were lifting as well as dropping their clothes and grabbing their dicks and stroking.

This was going to be fun!


Things progressed really quickly all the sudden. There was Stuart, the cute guy from the front desk, and then this really huge, really hairy bodybuilder dude jogged up, nearly tripping over his own jockstrap as he struggled to kick himself free of it, releasing a thick, very angry looking cock with a crotch so furry I could hardly see his balls, then a lanky dude with short hair and a nearly hairless body to contrast the bodybuilder, then a dude who probably modeled for Andrew Christian or some other sexy underwear line because his body was so perfect it almost looked fake, and then another dude, and another, and before we even made it off the gym floor Trevor had a line of a dozen or more horny hard-cocked men.

“Do you do this often?” I asked him, hopefully.

“As much as I possibly can,” he answered happily. “It’s my job!”

“You’re… a gigolo?”

“I’m a Handymann,” he answered.

“Are you going to charge me?” I asked, even though I’d happily pay anything for a minute with this amazing sexy man.

“No, Christian. I want you to fuck me. I need to be fucked. And fucked some more. I always need to be fucked. Sometimes I’m fucked by a client, but today I’m going to be fucked by all these amazing friends.”

“These are all your friends?”

“So are you, Christian! You’re my friend to. A friend with benefits.” Then Trev cupped one of those huge bubble butt cheeks in his hand and pulled himself open, showing me the most gorgeous pink hole that I’d ever seen. “Fuck me, Christian. Fuck me deep and hard. Fuck me until you cum inside me and I can feel your hot, thick cum pumping into my guts over and over and over.” He licked his lips. “Then fuck me some more.”

Who was I to refuse this man? Obviously he knew what he wanted and obviously I knew I could give it to him. So I reached my hand to his wide, muscled back and pushed him down so he practically mounted my hard on with his ass and I started grinding away at Trevor’s tight hole like he asked me to.

I’ve fucked a lot of guys, let’s be frank. A lot of guys. Because I like it and I’m good at it. I’m a total top, not just because I’m good at it but because I love it. It’s like a drug I can never get enough of. The ultimate high, when my hard dick is coated in spit and sweat and ass juice and drilling some guy who’s feeling me throbbing and swelling inside him, rubbing my cock against his prostate, feeling every inch of his ass while I push and pump and fuck him as deep as I can, which, given the size of my cock is pretty fucking deep. I’m not bragging when I say that not every guy is pleased when I shove myself inside him, but every guy is satisfied for sure.

So I start fucking Trevor’s ass and I swear to fucking god that it starts to feel less like I’m pushing myself inside him than it feels like he’s sucking my dick with his ass, like he’s so horny for my cock and needs me inside him so badly he’s literally tugging my dick and holding it inside him, groaning and sighing with something like complete erotic bliss. Who was fucking who, anyway?

Talk about a hungry bottom, this big boy was so needy he was hogging my cock inside him and practically sucking the cum out of my balls before I knew what was happening! “Whoa, whoa, whoa, boy, slow down and enjoy it. You’re gonna have me unloading inside you before I’ve even had a chance to get ready.”

“Feels so good,” he moaned. “Feels so fucking good. Fuck me harder, Christian. Fuck me deeper.”

“I’m fucking you as deep as I can.”

“Deeper, please. You can do it. I know you can. Get bigger for my ass, get bigger for me. Get harder. Thicker. Longer. Grow for my ass, Christian. I know you can do it.”

I swear to fucking god that in that moment, I actually believed him, and it felt exactly as if my dick did too. I know I was hard as a god damned rock and my dick felt as huge as it ever did, swollen to its full nine-inch length and six-inch thickness, thick veins pumping blood into its thickness and driving it to steel hardness.

But even so, inside him, it felt like I was getting longer, and thicker, and harder. Just for him. My dick started to tingle and throb and pulse as if it suddenly understood that it could get bigger for him, because he needed it. Like it was now his toy to play with, and I was just the conduit who was lucky enough to experience what it felt like to fuck the most amazing ass in the world.

Trevor groaned again and tilted his head back and sucked air into his lungs. “Yessssss,” he hissed. “Bigger. Thicker. Deeper.”

My dick throbbed again and he tightened himself around me and his ass pulled on my cock as if extracting it from its wrapper or something, sucking on me and on it and pulling me deeper inside him. My cock felt hot and hard as steel, and my balls were swollen with a load so heavy and thick that I was starting to worry that they might explode. I wanted to give Trevor so much hard cock that I’d fuck the cum from his balls, but instead he reached up to his fat, chewy nipples and started squeezing them between his fingers and thumbs. Fat, rubbery nubs as big as pencil erasers and as he played with them. I watched them swell like little tiny dicks mounted on his massive round pecs.

He groaned again and sighed and smiled and then he groaned, “Fuck yeah, so good,” and milk, or cum, or something thick and white started squirting from both muscle tits, spraying up in twin fountains that rained down on those massive mountains of muscle and flowed in a river between the mountains on his huge chest.

I fucked him harder as I watched him milk his tits and heard the sound of his moans in my ear like a tongue shoving inside my head, wet and warm and sexy.

This was now more than sex, more than fucking, it felt transcendental, or spiritual. Something was happening between us that I’d never experienced before. We were part of each other, connected physically and emotionally, and I started coming inside his ass and his cock swelled and throbbed and started pumping cum all over his massive muscle tits even as he was pumping his nipples with his fingers and erupting with thick milky fountains from both fat nipples.

It felt like an explosion of pure sex, powerful and enormous, so deep and strong that I felt it everywhere, from my toes to my fingertips to the follicles of hair attached to my scalp. I ached to scream with intense, overwhelming bliss but no sound would come. I was coming hard and thick in full, heavy streams that gushed all around my hard-on inside Trevor’s tight hole and spilled in thick rivers all over his huge ass and muscular thighs.

My mouth was open but no sound came out. I was shouting with perfect satisfaction and utter fulfillment, achieving an orgasm so strong and total that it was all I could do to hold on and keep coming and coming and coming.


Christian was a great fuck. I knew he would be. So I let myself go with him and didn’t hold anything back.

You know what makes a himbo a himbo? It isn’t just how we look, or how we fuck, or how soft our skin is or how big our muscles are. It’s that we are totally dedicated to perfect sex.

I know that sounds like a fantasy or something, like a romance novel description or something you’d read in a jerk-off sex story on some porn site, but I mean that sincerely and honestly. Our goal is always to perfectly satisfy the men we’re with. No matter who they are, or what they look like, or how many of them we engage at the same time.

A himbo lives to fuck and be fucked, and to provide the perfect, ultimate, ideal, unrivaled and absolute best sexual experiences in the world.

Mr. Mann says that when we’re with our clients, or partners, or whomever we’re fucking, that we should be there 100% for them. To never be greedy or selfish and to give them everything we can, and make them the best lovers they can be at the same time.

I knew that Christian could be more, so much more, than he already was. I’m not sure if he was holding himself back on purpose or if he just didn’t realize what an amazing lover he could be, but I was determined to everything in my himbo powers to push him to achieve the absolute best orgasmic experience of his life, so that going forward he would know what he could do when the floodgates were finally open.

I’d like a sixth sense or something. Mr. Mann never really explains it, only saying that when we achieve our full himbo potential that this would come as naturally as breathing.

It feels amazing when my partner allows himself to achieve it, too. Everyone has that potential. The potential for perfect sex. But maybe they’re scared of it, or maybe they don’t believe in it, or maybe they hold themselves back because they’ve never had a sexual partner like me before.

Sometimes, when they fuck me, it’s like putting a key in a lock and opening a secret vault. All this sex comes spilling out and we ride the tidal wave of it together. I know, I’m mixing my metaphors but I was never really good with words. I’m good with actions, and with my cock and my tits and my ass. I use my mouth for better things than talking. But Christian would respond to that, to words, so I just told him what I already knew to be true.

That he could be bigger, and longer, and thicker, and fuck me deeper than he ever dreamed possible. Because my ass was made to be fucked, and no matter what you do I’ll never be satisfied until you are.

And then, when I felt it happening, when I could feel him letting go and realizing what we could achieve together, his body and my body, his cock and my ass, his cum and my milk, when that connection clicked into place and we could both feel what was happening, I let it all go.

Fuck, it was amazing! Coming and feeling him cum and feeling my tits release and my milk started flowing and he was shoving his load inside me, all hot and thick and sticky, over and over and over, and we both hit the peak of sexual fulfillment at the same time, I understood something else Mr. Mann told us but it was something I never quite understood before this.

“A himbo,” he said, “is pure fuck power.”

Pure fuck power. When the fuck is all and the fuck is everything and the fuck surrounds you and pulls you inside and everything is the fuck.

That’s when a himbo is truly a himbo.


It’s always fun and interesting bringing a new potential himbo to HQ to meet Mr. Mann. You can’t really prepare someone for him, no matter how superlative you make your adjectives. Sexy as fuck? Check! Built like a motherfucking brick house? Double-check!

But Mr. Mann is anything but intimidating. A himbo, if he’s good at his job (and I am very good at it), is polite, accommodating, considerate, thoughtful, indulgent, and generous. He is also sensual, seductive, stimulating, alluring, and, depending on his client’s desires, suggestive, racy, juicy, smutty, raunchy, and rated triple-XXX.

Mr. Mann embodies all these qualities, but as the head of the Agency he’s also authoritative, imposing, confident, assertive, and trustworthy. Whatever he tells you is the truth, and you can believe that anything he requires of you is equally required of himself.

It’s a fine line, for sure, but he’s more than up to the task.

He’s also a bit…secretive. I mean, we all looked good before joining the Agency, but there’s something about being with him and accepted into the fold that suddenly jumps you into a whole other level of masculine sexiness.

At any rate, Christian was super curious about the Agency and me and Mr. Mann after we fucked, which isn’t all that surprising really. Most men I’m with have a lot of questions after we fuck, like “how is your ass so talented?” And “how does your cock stay hard the whole time?” And “how does your chest make milk that tastes so sweet?”

I mean, I don’t know how, right? I’m just me, and that’s what I do as a himbo. My cock is hard all the time. My balls are full of cum and my tits are full of milk. My ass wants to be fucked hard and deep and it’s really good at it, and likes having huge, thick, long cocks plugged into it as often as possible. What’s the big deal?

But Christian, it was obvious to me, was more than interested in answers, he wanted to see what it was all about. “Do you want to be a himbo?” I asked him, and he said he did, so I took him back to the Agency so Mr. Mann could take a look at him and value his potential.

I think he’ll make a great himbo. He’s already pretty big, both muscularly and dick-wise. He can use a lot of growth in his chest and ass to really qualify as a himbo, but those will come with a little exposure to us and a lot of work, but he looks like working on his body isn’t something he’s shy about.

And obviously the guy enjoys fucking, though possibly he’ll need to learn the joys of taking a big dick rather than always shoving his into someone else’s holes. Like most guys, he seems to be under the misconception that taking a big dick—and enjoying it—makes him “less of a man,” whatever that means. As if being a man was defined as where you put your cock.


Actually, I just wanted to fuck more himbos, if Trevor was a model for what himbos can do. He said there was a whole stable of them at the Agency and my dick was hungry for more perfect ass.

If I tried explaining or describing what fucking a himbo is like, you wouldn’t believe me. I mean, again, assuming Trevor wasn’t bullshitting me and he’s not just this extraordinarily sexy guy who fucks like no one else on the planet and looks like he was built for pleasure. Maybe some dudes would look at his super-thick ass and super huge muscle tits and super handsome face and think what the fuck is this guy? Did he get surgery or something to look like that?

I can tell you from first-hand experience that Trevor is 100% natural and 100% sexy as fuck. Those massive pecs are round and smooth and covered in soft skin you just want to rub and caress and suck on, and then he starts moaning and squeezing his tits and those huge nips start pumping fucking milk that tastes sweet and sexy and somehow make you feel even hornier than you started out, which was pretty god damned horny.

And once you’re sucking his nipples and your hands find his massive butt and you start kneading all that prime ass flesh while your mouth fills with warm, sweet man milk and you feel his foot-high, inches thick cock heating up against your body as he starts leaking a constant stream of warm, sticky pre all over you, it’s like nothing else I’ve ever experienced. Like the guy is made from sex and he has so much sex it’s all leaking out of him all over you!

Also, is it possible to be sex high? Like, to take a hit off some dude’s body and feel your whole, like, soul and everything tingle like you just shot sex straight into your veins? Sex always feels good and coming feels great, but being with Trevor wasn’t like any sex I ever had before. It wasn’t just that he was attentive and accommodating and fucking sexy as fuck, it was like touching his skin was an act of sex in itself. So warm and soft, with all those huge, powerful muscles bulging underneath.

And then when you shove your rock hard dick inside his warm and welcome ass, feeling him squeeze and pull you inside, the sound of his groans somehow entering your head and pulling groans of pleasure out of you whether you want to or not. And then exactly when you want to hear some dirty pleading like “fuck me harder, Christian, you feel so fucking good” or “god damn Christian you’re so big and powerful, I need to feel you cum inside me, I have to feel you shoving your load in my guts,” it just drives your already overheated libido into a frenzy!

So. Fucking. Good.

I wanted more.


I was pretty excited to be bringing a possible new himbo to Mr. Mann. Not everyone actually becomes a himbo, but I’m pretty sure everyone has a good time nonetheless. I was also excited to introduce Christian to the other himbos! They’re all such sweet guys and the way Christian fucks I knew he was gonna get a big welcome from them all.

I mean, yeah, technically we’re like a company and we charge money for fucking or whatever it is our clients want us to do which, let’s face it, always ends up as fucking. Sometimes we even get to fuck each other for them which, I hate to admit, is one of my favorite things. No one fucks like a himbo, after all. It’s what we’re built for!

Don’t get me wrong, I love fucking our clients and doing whatever I can to bring them pleasure. And please don’t take this the wrong way but some of them are kind of shy or awkward at first. I guess I can be a little intimidating being that I’m like six-foot eight with a 10-inch cock and a set of tits bigger than Dolly and an ass that would put a pair of beach balls to shame. I know I’m a lot to take in, but once they realize that I’m built for pleasure and will do literally anything they ask of me, as you might imagine things get a lot easier after that.

But even so, fucking another himbo or just being with other himbos is almost better than anything else in the world.

If I had to choose a favorite I guess it would be Brent. He’s super sweet! He’s been a himbo for a long time and he just keeps getting better and better.

Then again, there’s Alex. Alex has the biggest dick I’ve ever seen. And his skin is this super smooth, super silky chocolate brown with these huge, fat nipples mounted on his massive muscle tits that you can chew on for hours! Getting fucked by Alex is like feeling so fulfilled and complete! And then when he comes it’s like this warm flood inside that squirts out all over my thighs and he just keeps coming and coming and coming, it’s so cool!

Oh! What about Jake though? Most himbos are smooth, like, no hair at all except for on their heads. But Jake has this really soft, really warm carpet of dark curls over his chest that you just want to fall into and snuggle with like a big old teddy bear. And his super deep voice sounds like a train or a tiger or something, and he has this nice beard on his handsome face that when he smiles just makes you want to cream all over it.

Then there’s Paul, who’s super polite until he starts fucking your ass with the power of a jackhammer, and Geoff’s huge balls that seem like they’re never empty, and of course Andrew’s magic ass that can probably handle all our massive pricks at the same time and still beg for more.

Maybe I don’t have a favorite. I kind of love all my brother himbos.

But especially Mr. Mann, who’s the biggest and best himbo of all. Fuck, my cock just throbbed and grew another inch bigger just thinking about Mr. Mann. Can’t this Uber go any faster? If we don’t get to the Agency soon, Christian is gonna find himself fucking me in the back seat just to tame my sex drive until I can get more himbo sex!

Not that I think he’d mind, terribly.


I’ve seen everything. At least, I thought I had. But then I answer a call from this gym downtown and when I arrive I see this huge, like, bodybuilder or something but way, way, way bigger than anyone else I’ve ever seen, particularly his chest and his butt, plus this guy isn’t wearing nothing but a banana hammock that’s barely big enough to hold his cock and balls, like I mean an inch or two of his dick is clearly visible and the thong is so sheer that I can basically see all the veins on his shaft and the shape of his dick head and frankly I worry that his butt hole is gonna be rubbing all over my back seat.

Plus he’s accompanied by this other guy who’s not as big but still the dude looks like he could bench press Atlanta and all its suburbs by himself and the two of them are practically fucking each other just standing on the curb but whatever, I’ve answered the call and the fucking company won’t take kindly to me turning down a fare now that I’m here. Fucking Uber.

It’s clear why they wanted a fucking Suburban to pick them up because they’re both fucking huge guys and the big, big one can barely fit his ass through the door and the whole SUV lurched as he sat down, dude must weigh like 300 pounds or something, and half of that is chest and ass. But once he’s in the big guy is super polite and smells like, I don’t know what but it fills up the cabin and makes me feel weird and horny. It’s not cologne, which some guys spritz on like it’s fucking raining, it’s something else, maybe it’s just him, but like I said I get to feeling kind of randy looking at his smiling face in my rearview and then the other guy gets in and I swear the big dude looks like he wants to fuck the other dude right there.

Which, honestly, wouldn’t be the first time some couple got in and started making out, but usually their stoned or drunk or something, only these two look freshly showered and not at all drunk, except maybe on each other or something.

Because the smaller (heh, smaller than the big guy but still fucking enormous) guy’s hands are all over the big guy’s body. Petting him, caressing him, just fucking can’t keep his hands off him.

I don’t judge, I’ve seen plenty in my time and frankly there was something…unusual about the big guy with his huge pecs and those magnificent nipples and the way he smelled and the smile on his face. Plus he was super polite the whole time, giving me some help finding the place they were going, asking my name, telling me he liked my face and how nice and clean my SUV was. His voice was so nice, I just wanted to hear him talking the whole time.

Plus once in a while the other guy, who was pretty quiet, would do something to the big guy who told me his name was Trevor and it would make Trevor make this…sound. This kind of…moan. Or groan. And when he did that it was like the sound coming out of him went straight to my dick. Like it was a hand around my cock stroking me and I think I even gasped a couple of times and when I looked back at Trevor he fucking winked at me!

Fuck, I want to chew on those nips so bad. I want to stick my dick between those huge tits and fuck his cleavage until I nut all over his pretty fucking face!



It wasn’t a long drive to where Trevor was taking me to meet the other himbos and his boss, Mr. Mann, but I made the most of it.

No one ever made me as fucking horned up as Trevor did! I mean, I think I emptied my balls two or three times already but just being pushed up close to his body in the back of that big black SUV had me overheated all over again.

And now that we were in that small enclosed space I could smell him and he smelled like fucking. The guy smelled like sex! We’d spent like an hour in the showers at the gym as me and that Stuart guy and like a dozen other sweaty dudes all had our way with him and his amazing body, and he did everything we wanted of him and more, somehow managing to please every one of us and fulfill every request or desire we had and here he was ready for more!

I wanted to stick my nose in his deep, dank arm pit and suck all that sweaty musk inside my head. It was intoxicating. Again, it was like this guy was his own sex drug, like Viagra only it made my whole body erect.

I think the Uber driver was kind of shocked seeing him, if his face was any indication. For a minute after he drove up I thought he was gonna gun it and hightail it out of there and leave us standing on the sidewalk with my hand digging between Trevor’s butt cheeks trying to finger fuck the dude, but Trevor just reached out and opened the back door and climbed in, thanking the guy for answering our call and being all polite and sexy and shit.

During the drive, which was maybe 20 minutes long, I couldn’t keep my hands off Trev. The smell of him, the feel of his skin under my hands, the sound of his grunts of pleasure, the way his tits bounced and those huge nips begged to be played with. His dick started bulging again, trying its best to rip itself out of that tiny little thong he wore, extending longer and longer as I moved my hands all over his massive muscles.

The Uber guy stayed mostly quiet but I kept seeing him checking the rearview and looking at Trevor. Trevor looked back and smiled, happy to be the focus of his attention even while I was almost like raping the dude in the back seat. My own dick was rock hard again and I was sorely tempted to unzip myself and allow Trevor’s talented mouth to lean over and suck it inside where, no doubt, he’d be able to make me cum for like the twelfth time that day.

I was just about to do it, too, when I realized that the SUV had stopped and we had arrived at our destination.

Which looked like nothing but a large, gray warehouse in the middle of fucking nowhere.


I was more than a little disappointed when we arrived at the place these two wanted to go. I wanted to continue looking at Trevor’s face. I wanted his scent to continue getting sucked into my head and my lungs. I wanted to watch his massive tits bounce and see that look on his face when he closed his eyes and groaned with pleasure while the other guy’s hands started fondling his nipples.

Then Trevor asked, “Do these seats recline?”

I didn’t even think about whether we should do it, I was so horny at that point that I was determined to stroke out a load on my own as soon as I could, so Trevor’s question made my dick throb and I was shoving the seats horizontal as quick as I could. And before I knew what was happening, I had my jeans around my ankles and my shirt pulled behind my neck and my cock balls deep inside the most amazing ass I’ve ever fucked.

And while I fucked Trevor’s huge ass, my mind being blown by its tightness and wetness and warmth, the other dude’s cock was being blown by Trevor’s mouth, the wet sound of his sucking and the deep moans of bliss erupting from his massive chest only driving me to fuck him harder and deeper than I’ve ever fucked before.

I wasn’t gay by any means, I mean ordinarily, but I couldn’t resist Trevor. I love pussy and I love women but Trevor was somehow the best fuck I’ve ever had. Plus, he had tits, too! Sure, they were harder and thicker than the tits I was used to playing with, but as soon as my hands found those gigantic nipples and I started pinching and rubbing them, his hole was practically fucking my dick instead of the other way around! I’d never felt anything like it! I wasn’t even pushing anymore, his ass was sucking my dick inside and squeezing me like nothing I ever felt before! Like a fuck and a blow job combined!

Fuck! This was fucking fuck heaven!


How does this man make me so fucking horny? Like, all the time!

I mean, you know how it works, right? You get all warmed up and then you get hot and then you’re on overdrive and your fuck needle is in the red and you fucking explode cum all over the place and then it’s cool off time, when your engines are taking a rest and nothing in the world can get your dick hard because you just blew your whole fucking load.

But with Trevor, just looking at him gets me warm, Touching his body—his soft skin, his hard muscles—gets me hot, and then kissing him or sucking his titties or caressing that big ol’ bootie of his has my dick throbbing and swelling all over again and that sexy tingle of need and desire and lust starts rocking every cell in my being and all I can do, all I want to do, is fuck this guy.

I guess under other circumstances a guy like Trevor would intimidate me. He is, after all, huge. Everywhere. Except his butthole which is agreeably tight. He has that huge fucking ass that invites a deep fucking, those amazing and suckable nipples mounted like trophies on that huge chest that juts forward from his body like twin figureheads of some great vessel, round and thick and bulging with power. His face could make anyone loose their balance just to look at him, and everywhere else on his giant frame is practically bursting with fine, beautifully developed muscles.

But rather than feel intimidated I only feel lust. God, having fucked that ass I almost never want to fuck another one. And then he starts talking about the other himbos and, above all, this Mr. Mann he seems on the brink of literally worshipping and my curiosity got the better of me. Did I want to be a himbo like him? I don’t know. I love fucking, topping another guy, showing my Alpha status and making them feel my hard cock penetrating their asses over and over. Standing above and behind them as I shift my hips and flex my ass and drive my dick deeper and deeper. Fuck! It feels so good!

Trying to fuck in that SUV? Not so much. You know, there’s two places that they try to make fucking look all cool and sexy. One is in the shower, and if you’re ever tried to give. Blow job while your face is being pummeled with water constantly, you’ll know it’s not very conducive to sexiness. The other is a car, like in Titanic, which was a pure fantasy because if there was ever an environment designed to cramp you up while you’re trying to fuck someone, it’s a car.

So, that was less fun than it sounded, but I had a feeling that Trevor would more than make up for it inside the Agency.


In retrospect the sex in a car thing was probably not my best idea. Before I got himbo-huge I used to like having a fuck in the back seat. Maybe I just need to find bigger cars?

Anyway, I sucked on the Uber driver’s cock until he came in my mouth and I swallowed it down. He came pretty quickly, so maybe he had more fun than I thought he did, what with all the “ow!”s and “fuck!”s as he kept hitting his elbows and knees on things, but after he tittle fucked my pecs and I wrapped my lips around his dick, he pumped a nice thick load down my throat. He said I didn’t need to leave a tip. That was nice of him.


Holy fuck. I need to somehow get on, like, a frequent traveler list for that dude. Holy fuck! I came so hard I think one of my balls came out of my dick!


If I was imagining that this temple to the male sex was going to be like some gold-brick edifice with stained glass windows and huge marble statues depicting a himbo’s massive muscle tits and huge fuckable bubble butts and the kind of face with eyes begging you to slam your hard cock between their soft, warm lips and shove a load down their throats, it was the opposite of that.

Discrete would be a term that comes to mind. Just this big gray building in the middle of some boring industrial park that didn’t even have a sign out front advertising itself. I mean, how did they expect to expand their business?

Trevor looked absolutely overjoyed to be there, though. Like a kid on Christmas morning or something. I mean, the dude was usually pretty happy. I don’t remember his face not having a smile on it except when my dick was in his mouth. He was practically dancing his way towards the doors of the building, clearly excited and overjoyed to be here.

I was trying to play it cool, plus I had a view of that massive fuckable ass dancing around before me and it was making my horniness climb the horniness mountain towards horniness peak. I was rubbing my dick through my jeans and licking my lips in anticipation of what was coming next—being me inside a building filled with fuck-hungry himbos.

I mean, obviously I also had my doubts about all this. Trevor was like a fuck god or something. I was a better-than-average looking dude with a talented cock who likes sex, but how was I going to fit in with these massive guys with their big-nippled muscle tits and fat, round asses built to be fucked?

Trevor told me not to worry, that every new himbo feels like that at first, and then they meet Mr. Mann and the other himbos and everything changes, like you were looking for a goal in life or a path to follow and then everything falls into place. Like realizing that you were meant for something, and that something is being a cum dump and massive muscle freak whose sole goal in life is providing pleasure for all the men you meet.

Which didn’t sound too bad to me.

But did I want to be a “cum dump?” Did I want to own a set of massive tits and ass? Did I want to be dedicated to the pleasure of men and their cocks?

I mean… sort of.

But also, how did that happen? I mean, you don’t see himbos like Trevor just wandering around the beach or hanging out in bars or whatever. He was the first self-proclaimed himbo I’d ever seen, let alone met. If I hadn’t wandered into that gym in the first place, would I even be aware of their existence?

Long story short, there was a lot going through my head as I went through the doors to the Man Agency that Trevor was so helpfully holding open for me.


I couldn’t wait for Christian to meet all the guys! I knew they’d love him and he’d love them, and then there was the pièce de résistance of meeting Mr. Mann himself. If Christian thought I was sexy, wait’ll he meets Mr. Mann!

I could smell the guys inside when I opened the door. Like a thick invisible fog of sex. It felt warm and wet and sexy, like being cum on from all sides by the horniest guys on the planet.

It’s weird I guess but every himbo smells different. We all smell sexy, I think, but every himbo has a unique sexy scent just like having unique fingerprints. Weirdly, I can’t smell myself but maybe because if I could it’s all I’d do all the time, sucking that strong masculine tang in my nostrils to make my cock swell and my balls sizzle.

Because when I smell another himbo, it’s like I’m a dog in heat. Maybe that’s exactly what it’s like, sniffing one of my brothers’ spicy, sexy aroma and feeling instantly that I need to get fucked by them.

My brother himbo Rex said I smell like vanilla and leather and ball sweat. To me, he smells like cut grass and wet stones and cum. I mean, he smells like Rex, but if I was describing it to you that’s as close as I can get. I like putting my face right up against his neck and pulling his scent inside me while I lick his skin and slip my fingers inside his welcoming hole.

I think the guys I’m with can smell me, too, because they often act like they want to suck my balls inside their bosses when they get a strong whiff of me, but I can smell my brothers strongly and distinctly.

And then there’s Mr. Mann, who smells like, I mean, I can’t even describe it. Plus, I think he smells different to every guy, because every guy who meets him describes it as “the ultimate aphrodisiac.” Like, whatever turns them on, whatever combination of sweat or tobacco or rain or pine or lemon or ballsack or butt hole that really gets their dick hard and their ass tingling and their heart racing, that’s what Mr. Mann smells like.

And I could smell Mr. Mann over everyone else’s scent. Which meant that he was fucking right now, because when we fuck those manscents get really strong.


I don’t know what I was expecting to find inside the Mann Agency. Maybe it would be like any other office space with a kitchen and desks and computers and everyone being extremely quiet with headphones on or whatever, but in retrospect what I found instead was exactly what it should be.

The Mann Agency was a large open space, maybe even as big as a football field, with what I would call a combination gym and playspace occupying the whole area.

By gym I mean it had every piece of equipment in multiple copies all arrayed around the edges of the space and categorized by muscle group, so chest workout stuff over on the right, arms blasters next to that, ab and core stuff next, butt and glute machines, and the usual leg day torture devices. Then opposite all the complicated and unique muscle building machines with their pullies and seats and handles there was another area with nothing but free weights. And there was a ton (or, if I’m being literal, probably ten tons) of weights there. Dumb bells and kettle bells and bars with plates, all in gleaming chrome.

The floor was populated by more men whose bodies looked like Trevors, and it was easy to tell because every one of them was stark naked. Everywhere I looked around the room, there was another beautiful dude with huge muscle tits and an even huger bubble butt. No matter which one I looked at, their cocks were rock hard and dripping, their balls were fat and heavy with cum, and their faces were male model handsome.

I watched the himbos working out and Jesus, these dudes work out fucking hard! The grunts and groans of strain echoed across the floor along with the clang of iron and the heavy wollop of a few hundred pounds of weight being dropped to the ground. But those grunts and groans were echoed by different grunts and groans as a result of what else was taking place all over the huge room.

In the middle of the building was the play space, or what I would normally call the play room but it was a lot more than that.

Beds, first of all, and all of them humungous. Bigger than California Kings. They had to have been made just for the Agency and these huge, bubble butted dudes. The beds were all in the center and a few of them were currently occupied. And by occupied I mean that these huge dudes were fucking each other very… vigorously. In addition to the beds there were slings and platforms and contraptions I didn’t even know the words for, but clearly everything arrayed in the middle was designed for fucking.

And they were all being used in the manner for which they had been designed. These big muscle dudes were fucking and sucking each other with wild abandon, trading off on who was fucking or sucking who and obviously enjoying every minute of it. Were they training each other? Was this some sort of practice? Or were they just having fun? I guess it didn’t really matter, as the result was the same—the most amazing all-male orgy anyone had ever witnessed.

Prying my glance from the fuckfest happening in the center of the room, I realized that there was another, different fuckfest happening among the workout equipment. That himbo wasn’t just spotting his friend on the weight bench, he was pushing his hard-on down the other himbo’s throat while he worked out.

And that was a common sight everywhere I looked, now that I recognized what was going on. Dudes giving blowjobs to other dudes working their biceps. One dude was sitting his ass on another dude’s lap, and it was apparent that he was moving up and down fucking the other dude’s pole while he pushed a bar with an ungodly amount of weight over his head.

No matter how one dude was making his muscles bigger, another dude was right there giving him pleasure. If fucking or sucking was an impossible task, the other dude would be playing with his partner’s huge nips, twisting and teasing them until they sprayed fat fountains of milk. If their tits weren’t readily available, they were pushing their tongues inside their workout partner’s butt holes and making them squirm and squeal as they performed flawless back flies with heavy dumb bells.

Then the dudes working out might switch with their partners and start fucking them, or sucking their huge, hard cocks, or squeezing their fat muscle tits and spraying streams of milk all over their own chests.

Dudes in the center would move to the weights and trade off partners, and vice versa. I just stood there gawking at what was happening; an on-going, non-stop, cum-coated orgy of fucking and muscle building, with every dude in there except Trevor and me engaging in nothing but working out and fucking each other, and every one of them had a huge smile on their handsome faces.

“The fuck?” I think I said.


A couple dozen of my brothers were at the Agency when Christian and I arrived. I was excited for him to watch the Process, which is what Mr. Mann calls what happens there.

It’s really cool! All we do is fuck and workout all day long. Oh, I mean, naturally we sleep and eat, too, but mostly we fuck and workout.

I’m not exactly sure how it works or why. Something about hormones and testosterone and junk, but Mr. Mann says that, um, how does he put it? “A continuous cycle of sexual activity and muscular development can improve masculine physical, emotional, and sexual health at an accelerated pace, resulting in the creation of a male human specimen with massively elevated strength, libido, stamina, vitality, muscularity, and endurance.”

Plus, it makes us look really handsome, but maybe that’s just my own opinion.

There’s other stuff we do, too, mostly having to do with the huge amounts of cum and milk our bodies produce. If we share that with other himbos, the development of all those cool things accelerates even faster, plus we start growing our massive butts and muscle tits. I mean, doing hella amounts of squats and pec work obviously helps!

I looked over at Christian and saw that his dick was hard as a rock, which to me was another indication that he’d fit right in with us. He seemed like he really enjoyed fucking more than being fucked, but there’s other himbos who were like that before they developed their massive hungry asses and they learn how amazing it feels to get fucked.

Honestly? I like getting fucked more than fucking. Not that I would say that to my brothers, because it might make their own pleasure with me less than it could be. A himbo always wants to provide pleasure to our partners, our own is secondary. But, I mean, if I like getting fucked and guys like to fuck me, I guess I can’t really complain, can I?

When this feeling of happiness washed over me seeing Christian’s dick so big and hard, it was at that moment that another sensation came over me, one that I was entirely familiar with but that surprises me every time it happens.

Because Mr. Mann entered the space.


So I’m standing there in awe of what I’m seeing, all these handsome studs with their huge chests and asses and tight little waists and huge, hard-as-a-rock erections fucking and sucking and working out, my own dick trying to rip its way out of my pants, when my eyes were drawn immediately to someone else entering the space, and if I thought Trevor was huge, this guy made him look like I guess I looked standing next to him.

He was like a himbo’s himbo, or what every dude in that place was working so hard to achieve. Massive muscle tits jutting out a foot from his chest, capped with nipples almost as big as saucers. His arms had to be 30 or more inches around, with biceps the size of footballs. His waist narrowed impossibly under the mass of his chest and the width of his lats, looking even narrower than his arms, if that’s possible, lined with a perfectly defined set of abs laid out like an egg carton of eight amazingly defined muscles.

Even from the front, I could see his ass. How could anyone, let alone a dude, create such a monstrous and gorgeous set of glutes. Bigger that his tits, he owned an ass that I wanted to push my face between and lick his undoubtedly perfect and tight hole. His skin was practically glowing under the harsh overhead lights, and looked so smooth and beautiful that I wanted to spend a month kissing him until I had covered his whole body in spit.

This had to be the fabled owner of the Agency, because he was bigger, stronger, taller, and more handsome than any other man on the floor, and that’s saying something!

I haven’t mentioned his face yet because it’s hard to describe someone so handsome without falling into cliché. I guess just sort of imagine an actor or something whose face really just stops you dead in your tracks because you can’t believe someone actually looks like that outside of being drawn by a comic book artist or Da Vinci or something. Like, even from a distance it was clear to me that I was looking at the most gorgeous man I would probably ever meet in person.

As he slowly made his way across the space towards us, it was like he was a magnet to every himbo in there. They didn’t exactly drop whatever they were doing—I mean, stopping mid-fuck to ogle someone else’s ass is just rude—but as he passed by them whatever actions the men were currently involved in slowed as their attentions were drawn to the beautiful muscle god with the massive tits and ass passing among them.

He smiled at all of them, like some proud dad seeing his sons all fucking each other. Which is a weird metaphor but it certainly looked like that. He was very obviously more than just their boss or the owner of this so-called Agency, he was both a model of what they all were endlessly questing to become as well as a loving master whose blessings they were all anxious to receive.

Mr. Mann was making his way unerringly towards where I was standing with Trevor. With every step, it was like I could feel—physically feel—Trevor’s body growing warmer and a strong sensation of what I would call ‘horniness’ starting to envelop me, which was partly my own undeniable attraction towards Mr. Mann as well as a kind of sphere of strong and unrelenting arousal expanding outwards from Trevor.

Maybe it was just my imagination. What I was seeing with my own eyes was like a dream or a fantasy coming true. But I knew it was real, that this was all real, that Trevor’s physically perceptive arousal and the naked himbo fuckfest slash workout session and Mr. Mann’s insanely powerful and sexual body, with his long, thick, perfect cock arching up over two heavy balls fat with cum, slowly and endlessly pulsing with overwhelming lustful stimulation, his massive chest looking like two beach balls and all his muscles so thick and perfectly developed—huge upper arms, wide mountainous shoulders, that insanely narrow waist and a butt I could see from the front of his tall body—that one might think this was all an illusion.

Even as Trevor’s sexual heat kept growing stronger, another, different heat started to intrude on our space. Mr. Mann was still halfway across the floor but I knew without a doubt that was I was starting to feel was this man’s sexual aura.

He was like a sun moving closer, shedding insane amounts of pure erotic power. I could almost see it cascading off his amazing body, like waves of heat in the desert. What the fuck was happening, and how the fuck was this possible?

Who the fuck was Mr. Mann?

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