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The becoming

By Musclebuff
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AddedOctober 2002
Updated1 Oct 2002
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Part 1

He was everything I wanted to have and wanted to be. Superb competitive bodybuilder in superb competition condition, he stood there in the gym, looking around—at the equipment, not the members. His tanktop hung loose and low on that huge torso, hiding nothing of those huge slabs of striated pecs, the batwing lats, the melon delts, and his brief, brief, tight, tight shorts hid nothing either, not his equipment and certainly not the sweeping quads, beefy hamstrings and giant, diamond-shaped calves.

As the golden god looked around he lifted one arm to scratch the back of his neck and I almost came as those split biceps swelled and contracted; his tank rose to one side to reveal perfect ropelike eight-pack abs, with obliques sweeping down to his groin. He shook his tawny blonde hair—the kind he was never going to lose, steroids or no—and now started looking around as if he was trying to find someone he knew. He was in town for the Nationals, so he didn't know anyone. All the same he paused as he caught my eye; I turned away, embarrassed at being caught staring. but not before I noticed him sweeping his eyes over my own, not inconsiderable physique. I lay down to do my third set of heavy bench presses and got on with it. My engorged packet humped mountanously in front of me as I got flat, hoping he wasn't still looking.

At about the eighth rep, as I started to struggle a bit, I heard this deep voice urging me to “Get it up!” After the tenth he took the bar of me and slammed it back on the hooks. “Thanks,” I said, but he was already walking off to do his own thing. And so it went on: whenever I seemed to be in difficulties, he seemed to be there to spot and encourage me—and then walked off without a word. He was working on those unbelievable bis, so I had no chance of reciprocating with spotting for him. As we passed each other during the rest of the workout, he would nod silently and surlily and I would reply in kind.

By the end of the workout I was feeling pretty pumped in my chest and tris, and my dick maintained its semi-engorged state. With Him constantly before me it didn't have much chance to be anything else. Then, suddenly, he stripped off his tank and started to go through his posing routine with incredibly slow intensity. Each pose brought gasps from the onlookers: all working out had stopped at the sight of this muscle god showing his all. Slowly he went from pose to pose, with breathtaking transitions, glorying in his own muscle as he looked in the mirror, seemingly oblivious if his gathering audience.

This member of his worshipping club could hardly endure the muscular perfection that was being displayed so sexily, so hot, as he swept from double biceps (huge cleft) to front lat spread (thick, thick lats and thick, thick traps), to side chest (you could sit a coffee mug on the shelf of those upper pecs while his bicep threatened to burst through that paper-thin skin).

The side tricep shot looked as if the huge horseshoe must fall off his arm and his hams had a sweep almost the size of his quads; turning his back on the mirror, and therefore devastatingly towards us, he executed a perfect rear double bicep, first clenching his elbows down so that the whole of his back jumped out at you in the mirror, then rising to the cleft bicep pose. Seeing this from the front and that giant, knotted, wude bsack from the rear at the same time was too much for this steel-hardened dick which threatened to break out of my shorts and, muttering a feeble “Excuse me” I passed him and fled into the showers. Once I had the (cold) water running down me I heard the applause from outside. Then I felt safe enough to turn on the hot water and began to relax my pumped and frustrated muscles in the warm shower.

As they were all so busy watching the muscle god perform outside I hoped there would be no one in there to see what kind of state I was in. Because I was. There was something about this guy that excited me in a way I'd never known—he had some kind of charisma or aura that was intoxicating me, beyond any kind of muscle-hero-worship I'd experienced before. I soaped myself up and tried to think my way out of this with violent activity, but this was as hopeless a prospect as keeping calm and “down” while I was still mentally seeing those huge muscles bulging and contracting under stress in his workout. Small hope indeed—I was soaping my back with those useless contortions when the soap was removed from my hand and Someone Else started to scrub my back.

“I ought to stuff this up your rear end!” said that deep voice.

“Go ahead!” I said, trying to be both aggressive and inviting.

“Oh no! I'm not going to waste a good fuck opportunity on you with a bar of soap!”

As I rose to my full dick-height of ten inches, his deep voice asked me why I wasn't competing too that weekend. As he caressed my too responsive muscles almost unbearably I explained that one thing I wasn't embarassed about was being gay but that, once I'd gone public, the judges began marking me down. Even when everyone said (and I knew) that I was being cheated, that I was bigger, nore symmetrical and more cut than anyone else, I could tell that a pro card and the big moneys were being set permanently out of my reach. I have a good job and gave up that particular dream.

He turned me to face him and soaped my chest—swelling pecs and hardening half-inch nips and, worse, full erection—he asked me why I persisted in training myself up to that same standard if I was never going to compete. I told him that I gloried in my muscle and no rotten juidges were going to rob me of that tremendous charge I got from maintaining them to competition standard. Then, as he squatted down to soap up my legs and my crotch, I asked him how he knew I wasn't competing the next day and why he was working out on what was supposed to be his pre-contest rest day, he just wrapped his hand around my throbbing dick and said he knew all kinds of things he wasn't supposed to know about people and, as for working out that day, he was only there to make contact with me.

This shock made my cock leap and my balls rise with about-to-explode cum. “No,” he said, pulling down on my balls and up on my cock to stifle that explosion, “Don't waste that now—just remember this meeting and that I am not going to take your resignation from the game for granted. Why don't you get a good feel of these muscles you're so jealous of, that turn you on so hard? Don't waste the opportunity—I'm not here forever!”

How could I resist such a conceited challenge? I slid my soapy hands over those huge delts, down the back of those embarrassingly large tris, round to the front of the bis, at which point he obliged me with a flex and pushed my mouth down on to it. “Go on! Kiss thst huge cleft bicep you want so much! Lick it! Enjoy it!”

I did. My hands swept over those mountanous pecs, down the rope-like eight-pack which he didn't even have to flex to display. I slid downwards inside his quads, each side of his growing dick without touching it. Everything I felt, he flexed, even his glutes which welcomed my hands. When I slid my hands into that deep cleft, searching for his pucker hole he allowed my finger to find it and insert for a second, then he groaned and stepped pack a pace—still under the pouring water.

His dick had risen to its full height and the shaft was being squeezed in the cleft between his abs while the steel helmet of the cockhead has being squeezed between his lower pecs as he flexed them. I couldn't let this happen unaided and I opened my lips and my throat to tke as much of that sex rod as I could. Greedily I started to milk it with mouth and hands, wrapping my tongue round it as it thrust in an out of my throat. I wasn't going to let him get away with anything now so I slid three fingers up his shit-chute and started to massage his prostate as I had been taught by the great Chris Duffy. My other hand kneaded those beautiful, solid pecs and we didn't have to wait long before my throat, stomach and mouth were filled with his endlessly spouting cum. I swallowed gulp after gulp,determined not to waste a drop of this god's muscle juice.

He squeezed us hard together with those huge arms and backed me into the wall under the jet as he thrust his tongue down my throat. I wrapped my arms around that tower of strength and responded as if he were the lover of all time. That was all I needed. I came as never before and the giant managed to capture at least some of it in his fist—about half a cupful. He sucked it into his mouth, then kissed me as we enjoyed my sweet cum together.

“Now get dressed and get out of here and I promise you some day we'll meet again.”

And he left me flat. Against my will I went to the contest the next day and he walked away with the overall title. Everyone was gabbing about this newcomer who had appeared out of nowhere, beyond some insignificant qualifying bout in the sticks. I didn't know if I should make an effort to see him to congratulate him, but decided not to run the gauntlet backstage of meeting all those “officials” who apparently despised me so much—and I certainly wasn't going to be seen outside as some kind of stage-door Johnny or gay fan. I was still wondering why I had never come across this guy in previous contests, in the magazines or, in fact, anywhere on the bodybuilding scene, all of which I knew pretty well. It's not easy for someone as remarkable as him to keep themselves entirely hidden from the whole scene. And where had he qualified for the contest anyway?

I went home, alone, mulling all this over in my confused mind. Now I look pretty good myself, good enough to win contests, though not as big as this god, so I did not want for sex partners, but this guy was affecting my mind and my libido like nobody else ever had. Why the hell hadn't I given him my telephone number or my e-mail address? How could I ever make contact with him again? Would he somehow find a way to contact me? And so on. Very frustrating. And my dick hadn't subsided once since I first saw him. No one has ever had that kind of effect on me!

The days passed, the months passed, and I heard nothing. I couldn't get him out of my mind so I took it out on myself with punishing workouts. With his memory constantly in my mind's eye I strove to get bigger and bigger, but never even approached his total magnificence. Try as I would, my upper pecs never achieved that shelf, my bis never developed that cleft and, though my legs were as thick as tree trunks, they never achieved the beautiful elegance of his amazing sweep. Nor were my ten inches ever going to grow to his thirteen, however much I tried—and I did—with a vacuum pump! And, of course, I had dark Italianate curly hair which was never going to emulate his tawny mane, even if I dyed it, which I never would. I bet he never had to shave his chest of that mat I removed every other day to keep the pecs clear and shining.

Eventually, months later, things began to get back to normal but, whenever the time came round for a big contest, I'd search the websites and the magazine to see if he was competing. In spite of qualifying for the Olympia, and all the journalists' forecast of his possible great success, he never appeared anywhere. If it hadn't been for the memory of his hand wrapped round my swollen, bursting dick and his giant pecs pressed against my own in that shower, I might have persuaded myself it was all a dream.

But the dream came later.

Part 2

Six months of this frustrated self-punishment had gone by and at least it gave me good nights of sleep. Every night, before I dropped off, I wished I would dream of Him but of course you never dream about the things you are thinking of and hoping for as you go off to dreamland. I had almost come to terms with all this and this one particular night something else had preoccupied me and I dropped off without thinking about him.

I awoke on my side: surely it wasn't time to get up yet? And surely I hadn't left a light on somwhere, had I? But the room was filled with a kind of golden glow. I didn't move. What was all this?

“Come on—you're not dreaming! Sit up!” I knew that deep voice and I bolted upright under the covers. “I promised you I'd be back.”

And there he was, in all his naked magnificence—with a kind of golden aura all round him—an aura which shimmered and pulsated in the dark room, yet didn't dazzle me nor distract me from what I most desired to see. He was back! As my dick rose and tented the sheet over me I struggled to find words and failed. What? Who? How? Why? Reading my thoughts he said, “You don't need to know any of that. Isn't it enough that I'm here? Glad to see me?” he mocked.

I flung myself down the length of the bed and wrapped my arms round him. He enfolded me in the muscular embrace I had so long yearned for. “See? Flesh and blood, not dream material at all.” And drank me into his mouth as I clutched those huge and mighty muscles. I can't describe what they felt like in the palms of my hands—it just seemed as if they belonged there and that everything was as it was supposed to be—at last.

“I've been watching you for six months” he said. “And I've seen how you have been punishing yourself, frustrated that you can't be me. And all the time you've put yourself down for not having what I have and you haven't. You're too blind to see that, even I have this cleft in my biceps—” (He obliged by lexing those amazing guns under my nose) “—I don't have half the long head of tris that you have. Nor do I have such thick, enticing outer pecs, even if you haven't got my 'shelf'. I may have a great sweep to my quads, but I only have half the teardrop that you have.”

I found a voice at last to say: “The point is that you're four inches taller than me, and BIGGER in every department. I just needed you there all the time, forcing me to work harder, giving me your secrets so that at least in proportion I could be as big as you.”

“You already are, if you weren't so blind to see it. But I know you have a greed bigger than that—a greed to BE me, to be one WITH me—proportionate size would never satisfy you, however hard you work for it. And that's why I'm here—to reward you for your devotion to the glory of muscle, to deal with that hunger. To begin with you can remove that giant butt-plug you have up your ass—I've got something much better to put up there.Yes, I know what you've been up to.”

I colored as I reached behind me to pull it out, but he got there before me and plopped it out with such a tug that my sphincter thought it would never recover. He was all too right: I had stuffed a dildo up my rear so often during workouts so that I would “feel him”: with every rep. Is that what he meant by “devotion'? Anyway, now, here he was.

“Pal, I have to have you now—to start this transformation in you I have to have some of your DNA in me, so give me your fucking dick.” I knelt up at the end of the bed and he knelt down to take my full ten inches down his throat. I have never been sucked off by a god before—at least that's what it felt like. I clutched him to me, feeling those corded and flexing muscles in his shoulders and back. If you're being blow by a fucking god you don't have much chance of holding back for long and soon I was pumping gism down this god's throat. Slowly, slowly he relinquished my ever-swollen member (would it ever go down in his presence?). mercilessly teasing the top with his tongue until I yelled out, leaped off the bed, embraced him, both of us on our knees, tasting myself in his mouth, rolling him on top of me so I could feel his full glorious weight of muscle pressing me into the rug..

“Listen, pal, you can feel me all over to your heart's content, and I'm happy to let you. But it in the end it would only leave you feeling more frustrated if and when I disappeared again. So I think it's time to begin this procedure—no, don't splutter with questions I'm not going to answer 'at this time'. Just lie back on your bed and let it all happen.”

I opened my mouth to object, to question, to desire, but he lifted up my 250 pounds like a child, dropped me on the bed and pushed me firmly back onto the pillows. “Now shut up, darn your eyes, and let me concentrate!”

So I lay there. He stood at the end of the bed, took a huge deep breath which expanded those magnificent pecs and lats, and closed his eyes. The golden, shimmering glow which had continued to surround us gave a violent shudder and seemed to stream back into him. He bunched up his huge, split biceps, grinning at me. “Want these?” He flexed those guns till the veins looked as if they must burst, fairly pulsing with muscular vitality. “How about these?” and he towered above me, leaning forward to pump and flex the mountainous slabs of pecs in my face. He shoved a knee forward into my crotch and shook his fabulous quads at me before he flexed them into striated, beautful, thick ropes. At the same time he flexed that 8-pack and I longed to get my tongue and my face on to them. He moved away, turning his back on me to spread the thick batwings of lats and causing every thick back muscle to stand out as if recently carved from marble.

He turned oh so slowly to face me and crushed every muscle in his body into a most muscular pose which threatened to make me come on the spot The sweat begam to pour down his entire wonder of a body amd as it did so he started to give off a blue radiance which crackled like electricity. After a few moments it started to concentrate in as boiling circle around his abs. Suddenly a jet of blue light shot out from him and found its target in the center of my abs. I felt as if I'd been assaulted by a god, all the wind knocked out of me. I felt an incredible healing warmth building inside me, stretching out to every muscle I possessed. Then the blue light at his end shifted down to his massive and engorged dick where it flickered like some powerful torch.

“Get your legs up, boy, this is for you.”

As I lifted my legs up into my favorite fuck position this pulsating giant fell on top of me and I felt the jet of light from his cock enter my ass, closely followed by the cock itself. It was so huge, yet somehow it didn't hurt—only intoxicated me as no other dick ever has. It felt as if I had come home at last and was binding myself to this golden, electric, epitome of desire. I felt the full three hundred pounds of his muscles bear down on top of me as his lips found mine and blue light shot from his open mouth and down my throat. His cock throbbed inside me like one of Mr S's pulsating electric butt plugs. I felt as if I was being lifted to heaven as I was filled with this mysterious power and every muscle in my body seemed to swell and to mold themselves into his. But this was just the beginning.

With my big, hard glutes tightening round his huge and demanding dick with every thrust, I urged him to fuck me to the full. “Go on, muscle stuid! give me all you've got. Harder! Faster! Fuck me so I'll never forget you!”

He obliged, getting rougher with every few thrusts. I've never felt anyone so deep in me, reaching parts and giving me sensations never known before. I was delirious as our two huge bodies crashed into each other. Our pecs collided violently with his every thrust and I felt his nips and mine hardening and growing to unknown proportions. Massive slabs of flesh met each other and electricity crwckled between them.. I seized his biceps on either side of my face and yelled obscenities at him.

He just responded by digging and thrusting ever deeper, ever harder, with a passion I had never before experienced. And I lifted and jabbed my hole down on to that invading passion, encouraging him to work yet even harder.

I wanted him so bad to fill me for ever, but he suddenly stopped the piston-fuck. The blue light crackled all around us both, making his muscles look even more massive and extraordinary. “You still don't know what's happening to you, do you? No, don't try to answer that! I have to give you all I've got down both ends. The climax comes when I fill your ass with my cum—now I've got to fill your throat with it.

“But before I do that you must answer me a question. This is a very serious moment so you should pray you give the right answer!”

He pulled out of my unwilling hole—unwilling to ler him go—and his huge swollen member swung above me, still stiff and hard and glistening.

“Do you want to be my slave or my lover?”

How could I answer that honestly, let alone correctly? It seemed to be a Catch 22 question where no answer would fit. Of course part of me wanted to be his muscle slave for ever, but how long was this elsuive guy going to be around? Of course I wanted to be his lover, but was that enough? He waited above me, threatening, huge, desirable, shimmering in that crackling blue light.

“What the hell do you want me to say?”

“It's not what the hell I want but what the hell you want.” And he waved his cock tauntingly above me as I struggled to find the right words to describe my true feelings: I felt that my whole future depended on the answer…………

“I need to serve you in every way I can, but I know that's not all I want, not what I really want.. I want something so much closer than that, closer even than being your lover: I want to be part of you—inside of you—I want somehow to be you! ”

I had hardly got the words out when the world seemed to explode with both golden and blue light. Had I pushed the right button after all?

“Then drink deep, o my slave-lover! Drink deep and know the essence of a god.”

The hiuge cock sank between my willing lips and slif effortlessly down my throat. Somehow he did it all so I could still breathe. Which was just as well because it was the longest (in both sense of the word) and most violent throat fuck Id ever received. He hands pushed my shoulders back onto the heaped up pillows and I massaged that huge and beautiful dick in every imaginable way: throat massage, hands and lips, ball licking swallowing, sucking the very tip of the glans until. he yelled out he could take no more. I sucked him deep into my throat as his golden gism spasmed and spurted down my throat once again. I came myself three times and each time he made me scoop up my own cum so that he could swallow it himself. The third cupfull he shared between our two mouths and deep kisses.

“Last climactic movevement coming up. So far satisfactory! Now let's see what happens. Move over!”

He rolled me away from the center of the bed and lay back himself, stroking his gleaming tower, still crackling with blue light like a beacon, until it hard, proud and erect.

“Get youself on to this now. Sink my huge cock into your tight, beautiful butt and get really fucked!”

I squatted over him, facing him, and slowly lowered my butt to impale my eager hole with this huge, human dildo. I seemed to sink forever, feeling that magnificent flesh warming and filling my hole. Slowly I started to move up and down, bruising my prostate with every beautiful stroke. “We've got to take precautions here,” he said as he gripped my dick with one hand and shoved two fingers of the other up into me along side his dick. “You're not going to be allowed to come for a long while yet.” From nowhere he produced a narrow thong of black leather and tied it round my root, round my balls and then separarting the nuts, pulling them down and the dick up as far as both would go. And he tied it real tight. It felt as if my cock and my balls were being handled by three hands at once.

After an age of delirious riding of his hard body he began to grunt and groan loudly. At the same time he squeezed both my cock and my balls and pulled them apart from each other.

“Turn round now and give me your back.” Without dislodging rhat huge hard dick I started to corkscrew around. After a moment he suddenly stopped me, took my face in both hands, looked me deep in the eye with his dark blue orbs. He seemed somehow kind of sad as if he was saying goodbye, then he pulled his face up and kissed me long and deep. When we eventually separated, his eyes were closed as he lay back.

“Are you OK?” I asked.

“Couldn't be better!” he said, smiling with his eyes shut. He patted me hard on one cheek: “Now get on with it!” And he grabbed my shoulder to turn me away from him. His dick corkscrewed and ground deliciously against my joy button. “Now,” he said, “let me do all the work. Lie back and enjoy!”

He pulled me down on top of him and started to pump my ass, first slowly and lovingly, then gradually faster and more furiously. His arms were round my chest, grabbing the meaty pecs and squeezing my nips between his fingers. My hands started to attend to my ever-hardening tower, but soon he pulled them down to ours sides where he imprisoned them with his arms wrapped hard around my chest, each hand mercilessly squeezing and pulling on the opposite nip.

The faster he pumped, the stronger grew the blue and golden lights, seeming now to pour through both of us. Our heads lay side by side and we somehow turned them to kiss each other. I seemed to lose all sense of time, seemed to be both lifted up and at the same time to be sinking down time into my muscle-lover. Both our bodies uttered wordless growls of ecstacy as I felt the sap rising in both his dick and mine. His dick seemd to swell larger and larger as louder and louder grew those groans and faster and faster he pumped his dick into my ass. With each stroke I felt myself sinking further into his muscles, truly becoming one with him.

“Get ready!” we both yelled, seemingly at the same time, and then he roared as the cosmic explosion of all time imploded in me: I felt an increasingly violent rumbling deep in my ass, culminating in an explosion so powerful that own gism was fucked out of me. It jetted above us over and over again like a clear white fountain that crashed down to cover my legs, chest, abs, and face. With each jet I was violently shaked from within and every great muscle in my body spasmed eith an extreme electric shock. My head swam and I lost consciousness.

When I came to, I felt a comfortable warmth spreading throughout my whole being. There was a soft golden glow in the room and I remembered nothing. I wiped wehat I thought was sweat off my forehead—the other hand tried to do the same across my pecs and abs. Something was different. The “sweat” was not sweat, but sticky—and tasted wonderful. Something had happened to me, but what? My hand didn;t seem to feeling my face. Nor were they my pecs, surely. I sat up, feeling a bicep. I could have sworn it was bigger and I felt a cleft in it as I flexed it! That's what was wrong with my pecs: they were bigger, the ab ropes thicker!'

My God, what's happened? I moaned as I sank back again onto the pillows.

“Come on, wake up!” said a mocking voice in my head. I recognized the voice and suddenly it all came back—every wonderful sight and feel of our love-making. “Where are you?” I shouted longingly. “Get up and look in the mirror” came the answer.

Even though it was still the middle of the night, there was enough of that mysterious golden glow left in the room as I got up to look in my full-length posing mirror. I could hardly believe what I saw. “Go on! Believe!” said the Voice. I was clearly at least a foot taller than I had been; my dark curly hair was still curly but now it was tawny blonde like his—and my whole torso was now perfectly, seductively smooth.

My dick was rising every minute to reach below my pecs, but first I saw the pecs themselves: huge, balooned, thick, every muscle striated. Out of them rose my long, thick neck and the meaty traps that delved down into the biggest delts I had ever seen. Matching them and growing out of them were the biggest SPLIT biceps and perfectly balanced tris I'd ever seen.

I had to swing my hard tool to the side to see how enormous and etched my abs were as they plunged down into my groin. I managed to squeeze my long dick in the clefts of the abs and pecs, as he had done. The width and thickness of my lats somehow matched or balanced the huge sweep of the quads and the footballs sized calves. I flexed hard as I went through my whole posing routine: somehow this amazing body was mine and yet somehow it wasn't—it was His too! And this golden aura that seemed to shimmer from me—that was his too. As I went through pose after pose, flexing every muscle group in turn, I was intoxicated by the glory of all my swelling, straied muscle.

Fuck! what was it all about? “Where are you? Who am I?” I yelled.

“Quiet!” said my internal voice, “You'll wake the neighbors! You wanted so much to be me, well now you are. You wanted so much to be a part of me, so now I am a part of you. You never wanted to be separated from me, well now I'll be with you and in you always. As you will be in me and with me. Forever.”

I sat down heavily on the bed, working all this out. Not that it needed much, for I now fully understood the miracle of Becoming that had been granted me. It would be a long time before I managed to assimilate this Understandkng to the full—for now I was satisified with the end result. I leaped up again to the mirror, stroking and appreciating, glorying in every magnificent muscle and inwardly thanking my hero for being him—or for me being him, or he me—or whatever!

“Now all you need to do is get some sleep, go out and buy some clothes that'll fit you! Change your name and win all those contests! You can have any man you want for no one, not even the most hetero, will be able to resist those muscles on the best-looking guy in the world once you fix his eyes on you and send out that mental message that you desire him! He'll be yours, whoever he is. And whenever you have one, it'll be a threesome, for I'll be fucking you while you fuck him—or vice versa—As you plunge that long fat dick into him, you'll feel mine plunging into you and reaching right to the end of your dick. When you kiss you'll have my tongue down your throat as well as his. When you suck cock you'll be sucking mine too, and your cum will be mine too. When you feel and stroke and flex those muscles, you'll be feeling mine too and I yours. We'll BOTH be winning those contests!”

And my eyes were the deepest blue I had only ever seen on one other guy. Guess who?

He was always with me as I gloried and muscled my way through contest after contest. No one could touch us. All those I beat desired me and those I wanted got to fuck me or be fucked—hot muscle crashing passionately against hot, swollen muscle. I was frequently accused of talking to myself and had to learn to do this mentally. Some times he was quiet and seemed to be “away”, or i felt exhausted, but to be recharged I only had to look in the mirror to see him smiling at me through those deep, dark blue eyes. Forever.

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