Old Man and the Boy

By QuoteTheRaven

The blind boy sat in shaggy-haired beauty, his hand-stroked dick hard and long. He felt the hardness of his pecs and ripples of his abs. “Are you there, stranger? Come feed from me”, he said to the one who lay and watched. The old man crawled without legs and placed his lips upon the stiffened pole. The blind boy rose and slid his length in and out of the toothless gums. A youth so fertile spilled his seed abundantly into the waiting mouth. “I’ve loved you since I first saw you,” said the blind boy without irony.

A day past and the old man asked, “What do you dream?” “I dream to be muscular and huge, more powerful than can be imagined.”

The sun went. And when it came again, the old man, his voice soft, said, “Blind muscular boy. Come here.” The blind boy stood surprised by the feel of his big muscular thighs, by his bulging biceps, his thick pecs, his wide powerful back. His cock swung and hit heavily back and forth on his thighs as he stepped to the old man. The old man his voice cracking said, “Will you kiss me?” The massive and muscular youth stooped and put his closed lips to the closed lips of the old man. The old man said, “Thank you.” The youth thin, sore, tired, and hungry turned and limped back.

Night lay dark or undark, and when the blind boy felt the sun again, he heard the old man rasp, “Blind muscular boy. Come here.” The blind boy stood, his body rippling with muscles full and powerful and strong – arms pumped and bound, a chest broad and slabbed, legs swollen with size. The blind boy touched his large penis. He strode to the old man and stood in his massive glory. The old man whispered, “Will you kiss me?” The broad and muscled youth stooped and put his open lips to the cracked lips and parched mouth of the old man. The old man breathed, “Thank you.” The youth bent, worn, weak, and cold turned and felt his way back.

A day past and the old man, his voice more a thought than a sound, asked “What do you dream?” “I dream to be truth and then I dream to be massive, huge with muscle that bulges gargantuanly over my body.”

Night arrived. The blind boy lay still and dreamt. He felt the touch of lips upon his lips.

When he awoke, his eye sockets remained empty, but he could see. The broken body of the old man lay cold.

The boy looked at himself, his cock stirred. He lifted his muscular body from his mat. He was large – power and strength radiating from his massive limbs. He towered in stature, his physique hewn from creamy marble. His face shone with withering beauty; his hair fell in cascading waves of black to his neck, to his shoulders. His shoulders spanned broadly, anchoring arms that lay like beasts at his side, his biceps measuring two feet around. His chest bulged profanely – wide slabs of beef massed like a fortress on his carved frame. His back impossibly broad descended into the narrow tightness of his belted pants. His narrow hips cut with emphasizing muscles bordering his loins, his massive thighs balancing his puny waist. His loose pants protruded caught upon his heavy cock. Around his thunderous thighs the woven fabric of his peasant pants stood rent across large swaths – the muscular cuts of his powerful quads rising in cords through the various holes. The pants completely disappeared at the knee where fat, hard calves etched with deep cuts reached to the ground.

The boy stood giant with muscle and mass, his head held regally high. He reached his huge arms to the rope that cinched his waist and pulled it apart. He tore the rough fabric of his pants into small pieces and let them flutter to the wind. He stood tall… strong… naked. The wind caressed his muscles blowing under the cuts of his great pecs, pushing against the heavy girth of his manhood, flowing along the deep crack between his coiled buttocks. His mass arched backwards, the great bulk of his torso pulled back with his mighty shoulders and then swooped through the tight curve of his lower back to the high, hard mounds of his built up ass. His legs flared, two mammoth columns of beauty, corded with the explosion of forced growth.

He opened his lips and a low, baying command emerged echoing outward across the air. He moved and his muscles BULGED and GREW. The THROB of MUSCULAR POWER SURGED through his lemon-sized balls and PUSHED THROUGH HIS HARD BUTTOCKS into his very prostrate. He SHIFTED WEIGHT on his TITANIC LEGS – the movement of his bulk, the CRUNCHING of HIS MUSCLES causing ORGASMIC THROBS through his shining body. He raised his Herculean arms into the air and FLEXED his V’ed TORSO INTO SAMSONIAN PROPORTIONS. His legs spread wide and mighty, HIS MUSCULAR MAGNIFICENCE SPREAD COMMANDINGLY. His stentorian voice echoed off the walls of the valley. “I AM POWER!”

Those who looked upon him could never find the words to describe what they had seen, but every reverie would leave a stirring in their groins and in their souls.

The blind boy began to massage his manhood and it rose in iron hardness. He felt the joy of his beautiful muscles and his perfect body and his balls began to tighten and thrum with yearning, orgasmic need. A boy both deaf and dumb with light features and light hair sat his gaze locked on the rippling god.

The blind boy stood in muscularity, his hand-stroked dick hard and long. He felt the hardness of his massive pecs and ripples of his dense abs. “Can you hear, deaf boy? Come feed from me.” The boy both deaf and dumb heard. He walked and placed his lips upon the stiffened pole. The blind boy exploded with groaning ecstacy. •

This collection was originally created as a compressed archive for personal offline viewing
and is not intended to be hosted online or presented in any commercial context.

Any webmaster choosing to host or mirror this archive online
does so at their sole discretion.

Archive Version 070326