Project William


By Also_KnownAs

There was not a lot of time to measure him before we did it the first time, of course. I was rather anxious, even if he seemed sort of tentative. Nobody and nothing had ever turned me on full blast like William, before or since. On reflection, it was all weird. First he's Mr. Stud licking my cum off his fingers, smiling that smile of his, being this take charge top with a Harley and a leather fetish, then he's suddenly like some virgin piece of ass scared to commit, wondering how to do it or something. So he was both rough and gentle, both commanding and subservient. I mean, literally, he was everything I ever wanted -- but not all at once like that.

So I said I didn't measure him before entry, but I needed to know afterwards, just for my own education, what I'd just managed to take in.

Friends, you've heard of the 11-inch wonders, the foot-long hotdogs, hell I even heard of a 14-inch porn star but I never believed it. William, tip to balls, stem to stern, owned a 12-inch prick. Twelve fucking (literally) inches. I didn't think my ass was that big. He, however, assured me that he got all the way in. It sure as hell felt like it. And when we were doing it, that first time, I just wanted it to go on and on and on. It wasn't just his huge dick, it was him, it was everything about him, he was amazing.

William, once he was plugged in, it was like he could read my mind. He'd speed up when I wanted him to, slow down when I wanted him to, I never had to say a word, his hands found the places I needed to be touched, his mouth seemed like it was everywhere at once, his body, his smell, his whole being seemed like it was there just for me, only for me, to be with me and pleasure me and give me everything I wanted, fulfill every desire, be everything I dreamed or fantasized.

It was, to put it mildly, fucking weird.

Can you imagine what I'm talking about? You're being fucked and you need your nipples sucked, and he's sucking them! How he got his mouth there and managed to keep plugging away you have no idea. Your mind is being blown, so filled with pleasure you're in heaven and hell at the same time. You want to kiss his lips, they're kissing yours. You need to feel his tight, round ass, his hand guides you there. It's perfect, it's all fucking perfection.

And after? After I never felt better in my life. I felt so fucking strong, so powerful and beautiful and amazing. I felt like he looked, if that makes sense. I'd never felt so good in my life.

Again, while it was happening, I certainly wasn't interested in pausing the action and asking what the fuck was going on. And how long did it last? An hour? Two? I know it was light when we started and it was dark when I found myself lying on the carpet in the living room next to him. We were hot with passion and wet with sweat. My ass burned and tingled as if he were still in me. I could feel him there, feel his hugeness filling me up, bringing me to the edge again and again, feeling as if I were cumming gallons, buckets, I was a sex hose. I was breathing slowly, staring at the ceiling, I had no words to speak. I'd been treated to a sexual experience beyond words, but I managed to find one anyway.

I'm like that.


William, as I was coming to understand, seemed to anticipate the question, know instinctively what I was asking. His low rumble of a voice vibrated next to me. It ran through my body. I felt him shrug, "I told you I had some uniquely developed talents."

I found another word. "But..."

His body rolled onto its side, he propped his head on his hand. I turned to look into his green eyes. Was it possible that he looked even more beautiful now? "Does it matter?"

I swallowed, looking at him. He felt almost beyond human, like something I couldn't actually touch, like someone from a place different from my reality. His beauty and power seemed fragile or overwhelming, maybe both. I felt almost dizzy, looking at him, being next to him then. The lines of his muscle, the look on his face. He seemed bemused, faraway. "What do you want to hear me say? I'll say anything you want me to."

I shook my head. "Tell me about you, William. Don't tell me what I want to hear, tell me something true, tell me something you don't want to tell me."

He smiled. His eyes narrowed slightly, showing how thick and long his lashes were. "You're a very interesting guy, Jackson."

My brow wrinkled. "That's true, but that's not about you."

His finger was tracing circles around my left nipple. My dick tingled as if it were being played with instead. "I've been with lots of guys, but I never...."


"I never felt what I feel with you. I've never been so... comfortable. Comfortable enough to be myself."

"And, who might that be?"

His smile increased. "When we met in the locker room, I knew who you wanted me to be. You wanted that guy who walked in, the guy in the jeans and the boots and the leather jacket."

"I wanted you."

"I know." He laughed softly. "I mean I know that now." He kissed me, gently. "But you have to admit that you were really turned on by the guy who walked in the door."

"That's not hard to admit. You looked great. You look even better now." I wasn't lying. As we lay there, he seemed to be growing better and better looking.

He sucked in a deep breath and lay back, folding his arms behind his head. "What would you say if..."

I leaned over, mimicking his earlier pose. "If what?"

He closed his eyes and shook his head. I scanned down his perfect body, my gaze lingering on the length of cock hanging limp but firm across his hip. The head looked like it was glistening. "No, never mind."

"Move in here," I said. I had no idea where the thought came from, but I immediately felt it was the right thing to say. I'd just met this guy, I knew next to nothing about him (well, I didn't really know anything except that he was the greatest fuck on the planet and at the moment, that was good enough for me) but I wanted him around. I wanted to be with him as much as possible. I wanted him near me, like he was near me now. "Move in with me."

"What made you ask that?"

"I don't really know," I answered, but I crawled atop him, my chest against his, to look into his sea green eyes. "I just feel like it's right."

"You don't know anything about me, Jackson."

"I don't care. I just want you here with me. Or I'll move in with you."

"No, you wouldn't want to do that."

I shrugged. "So? What's your answer?"

He smiled broadly. "Yes, Jackson. I would like nothing better in the world."

That first weekend was amazing. We made love again before hitting the sack. This time I was in charge, and again William's performance was flawless. He allowed me to do whatever I wanted to do with him, and his body's strength -- and flexibility I must add -- seemed unlimited. It was another marathon fuck session and I must admit that my own performance under such pressure was pretty fucking amazing in itself. I'd already cum twice in fairly quick succession and I came two more times and swallowed William's copious load (the man had balls made of some space warping material, there was no other way so much sweet cream could come out of them) and kept right on going until falling asleep with his muscular arms wrapped around me.

I woke up on Saturday with morning wood and William was right there, going down on me with a hunger and drive that was amazing, and I managed somehow to hold off spilling my cargo into him for something that felt like an hour, though it was probably more like 20 minutes. When I came, I was a rocket. I pumped harder and thicker than I ever had before. Where all that sperm was coming from I had no idea, I was a veritable cum factory and my gun was shooting non-stop.

William had the bad taste to look great in the morning, his amazing body looking as if he'd done nothing but worked out all night. Honestly, his muscles looked toned and pumped and his skin was ruddy, literally glowing with health. His beard was now pretty thick and very dark, matching the tousled locks of midnight that somehow managed to look both messy and sexy at the same time. His eyes were clear and bright and even his breath didn't stink. And whatever that cologne or musk was, it still scented his soft, silky skin and filled my head with need.

He wiped his mouth on the back of his hand, smiled up to me and said, "Hey."

I smiled back. "How was breakfast?"

"I love the taste of you," he echoed again. "How are you feeling, beautiful?" He stretched himself up next to me, his weight pulling me toward him on the mattress.

"Incredible," I answered, and I did. I felt fucking incredible. This was just getting better and better. I felt so comfortable with him, so right and so, well, incredible. "How do you manage to look so good in the morning?"

"Clean living," he said. Then he kissed me, and I could taste myself in his mouth. He was right, I did taste good. "Let's hit the showers, Jackson."

I used to think my place had a nice big shower, and it was -- when it was just me. But with just him in there, it would have been cramped, and with us both in there, it was fucking tight.

The weird thing was that, from what I could tell, he wasn't as tall as I thought he was. Maybe his boots or something.

Anyway, that tight space worked to our advantage, since we didn't shower so much as wet fuck. I soaped him up, he soaped me down, then we took our sudsy selves and commingled the lather and let our slick skin do as it wanted.

I then had the opportunity to explore him again, and my hands were going gaga over what they were feeling. I could feel his muscle under that smooth, wet skin, and it was amazing. Ribbons of power stretched and flexed and bulged. He had huge nipples which, I easily discovered, were as sensitive as they were big. I sucked and nibbled on him as my hands cupped his perfect ass and squeezed against his hard muscled butt. Even in the shower, his scent came through to my senses. Even after all that soap, all that hot water, I could smell that smell on him, the very essence of him it seemed to me, the overpowering sense of the huge muscular beast in the stall with me. It swam through my head and sunk in deeply.

It felt so tight in there. Even I seemed bigger in the small space, but I knew that wasn't true. All I had to do was look at him and compare our bodies and it was clear that I was the same as I was, I just felt better. And you always look better when you wake up, before gravity has its way with you.

He had me up against the shower wall, my arms over my head, his mouth clamped to mine, and I could feel him getting harder. His dick was expanding between us, heating up, even, filled up with his hungry hot blood. It was a white hot rod pressing into my belly, and I reached down and caressed his hugeness. He felt bigger than ever, but I knew that was a deception. I couldn't see his mammoth dick, all I could do was feel it. I knew how big it was, but it felt bigger than even the twelve inches I knew it was.

The water splashed off his wide, muscular back and drizzled between us. I hand-jobbed him as he kissed me. He pressed himself to me, chest to chest. His hard nipples felt like pebbles. How could they be so hard, so huge? Just like the rest of William. Hard and huge.

He came very quickly, splattering his warmth between us. It clung to his dark fur and my smooth skin and we soaped up again before exiting the bathroom.

I was still on fire. How this was possible I had no clue. Maybe it was just him, he was so amazing, so beautiful. The air cooled the water on our skin and he kissed me still.

But I was hungry -- more than hungry, I was suddenly starving, as if I hadn't eaten in days. I said so, and he said something like, "that's expected," which I simply dismissed as an offhand comment, which it was, but it meant a lot more than that.

I wrapped a towel around my waist, I didn't even bother to get dressed, and raided the fridge. I drank the milk from the carton and emptied it. I devoured two apples, some cheese, some salami, anything I could find. I couldn't eat fast enough.

He stood at the edge of the kitchen scrubbing a towel through his hair, otherwise naked. I watched him as I drank a Diet Coke, watched him watching me, saw the amazing collection of power that he was, remembered the first time I saw him walking toward me in the locker room.

Dammit, he did look bigger. His chest was amazing, but it looked more amazing. What, was he downing supplements in his sleep? Pumping iron at some all night gym and climbing back into bed with me just in time to suck me off? What was this?

So I asked him. "William, you look bigger." His brow wrinkled and he looked down at the hanging glory between his muscled thighs. "No, not that." Although, now that I really looked at it... but no. "I mean your body. You look..."



He shrugged. His shoulders looked like mountains. "Trick of the light or something." He smiled and tossed the towel aside, walking that predatory walk toward me and grabbing my hips, pulling me toward him.

I was eye to eye with him.

It never even occurred to me that I was looking up into his eyes only the day before.

"You look good enough to eat," he growled. My towel was on the floor and before I knew it, we were going at it again, right there on the kitchen floor. My stamina was amazing! I'd never been so fully juiced before. He'd sucked me off in bed, I'd cum three times only last night, I'd come so, so close to spilling my load in the shower and now I was hard yet again?

He licked my ass, rimming me deep and true. His tongue felt like a hot, wet dick. Was it twelve inches, too? I was so hard it hurt. My dick was beet red and pulsing with need. I was practically gushing precum, I'd never felt anything like this. What was happening to my body? Was something happening to it, or was it just responding to William's almost constant attention? Was this what I could expect from him living with me? Constant fucking? Constant, amazing, incredible, all-out fucking with the muscle stud of my dreams?

Somehow, I couldn't see a downside to this situation.

We spent the whole weekend naked. I have no idea where the reserve of cum -- his and mine both -- was coming from but come it did. Over and over and over again. It was like there was no downtime, no rest periods. I was a fucking machine, and so was he. His voice could make me hard. His touch sent shivers down my spine, made me hard as a rock. It was almost like a two-day orgasm, with a few hours of rest before Sunday came and it started all over again. I was wishing I could record everything because I started to think I'd be dead from sexual fatigue by Monday.

This time he didn't even wait for me to awaken. Instead, my wet dream turned into reality and I wasn't sure what was real and what wasn't. If I was still dreaming, this was the best and most realistic fucking dream I'd ever had.

But it was no dream, he was sucking my hard prick. I looked down my body, and I was even more unsure about the reality of this. My body looked fucking amazing. I could see ripples of muscle on my belly. I squirmed with pleasure as he swallowed my rod, and my chest looked bigger and better than I remembered. His eyes met mine and that brought me screaming back to reality, there was simply no denying the direct lustful passion in his gaze.

He was an animal, one with an insatiable hunger for this. His hands moved up my body and he caressed my skin, feeling every inch of my body. I was gripping the sheets, grasping on for dear life as he sucked harder and harder. Something like a moan escaped me, a sound so deep and feral that I thought it came from someone else, but it was all me. "Oh, god, William, oh fucking, fucking..." I was mumbling, moaning, practically drooling from pleasure.

Then I was cumming, and he was swallowing every drop.

And the rest of that day went pretty much like that.

Monday morning dawned a bit different, in all sorts of ways. For one thing, William wasn't sucking my dick. William wasn't anywhere at all, actually. Not even a note to let me know where he'd gone. So I was, as you may imagine, a little disappointed.

But that turned into shock when it was time to get dressed for the first time in three days. •

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