By Musclebuff

There I was, a giant, rammed between two giants.

The steel nips on my pecs were trying to drill themselves into the huge muscle meat of the guy in front of me while his pecs were doing their damnedest to squash mine flat, raking them with his pair of inch-long suck-worthy dick-like appendages.

The warm water of the shower poured down over our heads, greatly assisting the lubrication of my painfully erect man-fucker as it squished itself between the mighty rocks of my abs and his. As for his punisher, it was jammed under my nuts, fucking itself between my thick quads. It was so long that it protruded not only beyond my legs, but also beyond his brother's, standing behind me, where it stuck out at least six inches beyond that giant's thews which were grabbing it almost as hard as mine.

I say "almost" because the brother behind me was also occupied in trying to ram his log-meat up my ass. Just now it was pushing against the first gate of my muscle-cunt which was teasing him by remaining closed against him. But the more I teased the more determined his battering ram was on entering the castle. With one mighty shove, which pushed me and his brother into even closer proximity against the tiles of the shower, the gates willingly opened before him and he was in to the hilt.

This was the signal for all three of us to ram, squirm, slide, squeeze our pumped up, vascular, huge muscles against and inside each other like some depraved but well-oiled sex machine. I sank my tongue down my opponent's throat as he mashed his lips against mine and it wasn't long before we were roaring down each others' throats and his brother was jack-hammering his load into me. While the frustrated and swollen dick between our legs (frustrated because it wasn't truly inside one of us) battered the underside of my nuts as it poured its load on to the streaming floor, his brother's was stretching my innards deliciously to their limits as he gushed his torrents within, and my towering dick jetted a gallon of muscle-milk up between our two sets of abs, crashing against the overhang of our pecs.

Somehow the brother behind me joined his mouth to ours - and still the water poured down on our heads and splashed off our mutually almost identical giant delts.

But that wasn't how this story began.

Shortly after doing very well as a star gymnast for England in the 1980 Moscow Olympics (the ones the American athletes were prevented from attending for political reasons - had their masters never heard that Athens and Sparta, though constantly at war with each other, put aside their differences for the period of the games so that their athletes might compete as individuals and not as political pawns?) I injured myself badly (showing off) and had to withdraw from competition.

My rehab trainer introduced me to bodybuilding and, when I saw the amazing effect it had on my already considerable muscles, I was hooked for good. I guess it was the genetics or all my previous years of athletics, but I was turned on to the max by the immediate and continuous swelling of my muscle bellies. Eventually I only had to look at myself in the mirror for my dick to rise to its considerable height and start weeping copious globs of precum.

Bodybuilding was about to change my life.

At the same time I seemed to lose my interest in girls and started to haunt the hardcore gyms where the really big guys worked out. Inevitably they forced (forced?) me into contests; a group of them started to bully me about diet, one huge and handsome hunk undertook to teach me all he knew about posing and "supplements" and, wham! there I was trying to control my boners on stage! On stage with all those fucking hot muscle hunks.

One thing led to another and I was soon qualifying for national contests. There was no stopping me, and no stopping me finding out who was available to mash his muscles and other things against mine. On the face of it, it's all so darn macho, but when BIG muscle meets big muscle it's all another story. The better your shape and size, the stronger the magnet that draws one hunk to another.

By now I was getting a lot of work as a personal trainer, both for gymnasts and for bodybuilders. And a lot of attention. I was advised to cool the contests for a year and spend the 24 months building the muscle in hopes of getting my pro card at the Nationals a year later. Despite this cooling off period, my popularity in the BB world resulted in many calls to help out on other contests with admin and judging, so I was not surprised when I was called by Head Office with a request to "squire" the two guest posers at the national contest I had decided to leave off my dance card.

These were the Karamazov Brothers - two hulking Russian bodybuilders - twins who, in spite of their huge size, had such lissome talents that they were world-renowned for their incredible adagio act, then to be seen in a Las Vegas spectacular. I'd seen pictures of them in magazines and even caught their act once on TV. They were both well over six feet and must have been at least twenty stone (280 pounds in the US). Gigantic shoulders, chests and quads, with tiny waists, impossible arms and calves, and backs that spread from here to eternity. It was unthinkable that guys that size could ever attempt something acrobatic like an adagio act, but Sergei and Alexei had disproved all that.

In addition, they were devastatingly, heart-breakingly handsome. WHAT had I let myself in for?

My grandpa on my mother's side was a Russian import to the UK; my family spoke nothing but English, but my experiences at the Moscow Games had inspired me to get Grandpa to teach me Russian, teach me so that I was practically bi-lingual. Another reason for asking me to look after the Karamazov Brothers who, in spite of their long time in the US, defiantly still spoke not a word of anything but Russian.

Came the day and they were flying in from Las Vegas to Heathrow. I was to drive them up to their hotel in Manchester where the Nationals were being held. As they came out of Immigration they were, of course, unmistakable, but no one had told me how much bigger they looked in real life and how much more handsome. My dick leaped up I saw their blonde heads approaching over the rest of the crowd and my legs practically gave way when the giant-size mass of the two brothers was practically on top of me.

They were both wearing mole-skin velour jump suits which hid nothing of their muscle, in fact the velvet sheen seemed to highlight and enhance the muscular masses behind it like a second skin. They saw the poster I was waving with their naked frames upon it and cleared the way before them as they came up to me. Shit, I was so overcome that I forgot and introduced myself in English.

They looked at my skintight muscle shirt and tight-to-the-quads trews up and down as they crushed my hand in their paws. I was all too well aware that my pants could not possibly hide the outrageous swelling beneath them.

They both looked like Brad Pitt with a lot more muscle - like two story-book Russian Princes, the kind that go off in search of firebirds. Sergei (the cheeky one) said to Alexei (the serious one) in Russian, which I guessed I was not supposed to understand, "Here's a bright one! Did you get that boner that's making him blush?"

"Fuck yes! And how about all that muscle? Think he'll play with us?"

"Soon find out - might even make this trip worthwhile."

Thinking I'd find out a bit more about them this way, I conducted them to the car in English. Once I'd got their huge bulks stowed in the back seat of the car and their great duffles in the boot (trunk to you) we set off up the M4 and thence on to the M1. This trip was going to take about three hours so there was plenty of time to play the game. Just had to choose the right moment to expose them.

Little did I know that I was to be the sole subject of conversation until we stopped for something to eat half-way. My dick raged for release as they went on and on something like this:

ALEXEI His shoulders could be as big as ours if he'd work them the right way. Look at that thick neck!

SERGEI It's not his neck I'm interested in. It's that great treetrunk he's nursing down there. Must be panting to burst. Just let me get my hands on it -

ALEXEI Shit, brother! All you think of is sex! I just want to get a grab of those glutes - did you see that bubble-butt as he walked ahead of us to the car?

SERGEI Da - love to get into it, wouldn't you?

ALEXEI You bet, but seriously, he has a fucking good set of muscles. And that face! And that black hair!

SERGEI You're such a softie! You'd just stand in front of him naked and jerk yourself off! I want to crush that little boy in my arms and stick my tongue down his throat, then give him a good fuck!

ALEXEI There you go again! Must say I'd want to fuck it too. Real hard!

SERGEI You want real hard or you want to fuck him real hard?

ALEXEI Both, since you ask. But what we ought to do is get his muscle up to size. The we could really have fun with him.

SERGEI You've got something there, bro'.

By now I was soaking my pants with pre-cum. After a few minutes silence, shit, they started up again.

SERGEI Wasn't there something in that letter they sent about the guy meeting us being an Olympic gymnast?

ALEXEI Shit, so there was. Where the hell did I put it? Da, here we are:

"Steve Johnson, who will meet you outside Immigration" bla, bla, bla..... Yeah, look - "won two silver medals as a gymnast at the Moscow Olympics in 1980. Subsequent injuries prevented him from continuing in that sport, though he's now well-known as a trainer.." da, da, da - " and has had some success in contest bodybuilding -"

SERGEI Moscow, huh?

He leans over to me. An attempt at English.

SERGEI You been Moscow Games, big boy, you?

ME Yes, sir! 1980. Fantastic days.

ALEXEI Ask him if he speaks Russian, for God's sake!

SERGEI Punimayetye puh Russky?

ME What, sir?

Sergei leans back.

SERGEI He doesn't.

ALEXEI Thank God for that.

SERGEI I rather wish he did - it'd make seducing him a darn sight easier!

ALEXEI Hey, we both know ways to do that with Russian or without it!

SERGEi You bet. But I want him first.

ALEXEI Suppose he prefers me?

SERGEI Well, we can always fuck him at both ends!

They both roar with laughter and Sergei hits me on the shoulder.

And so we went on our way, Sergei majoring on what he was going to do to me with his big dick, and Alexei majoring on what he was going to do with my muscles. Whatever, it was a most promising conversation.

We were to have stopped at a major highway eatery, but they conveyed to me with signs, pigeon English and, because I pretended to be slow on the uptake, a few frustrated Russian curses, that they wanted me to find a place where they could shower and shave and get a really good meal. Uh oh. Seduction starting already? As it happened, I knew the perfect hotel a little way off the highway a few miles up the road.

I persuaded the proprietor to let them a room for a couple of hours, explaining about the long flight etc etc. I declined to go upstairs with them, and let a weedy bellman carry their duffles up and show them to their room. I was of course dying to go with them and share that shower, but I hadn't finished my game yet. And I certainly didn't want to risk being a one-shot conquest with the possibility of then being dropped. So I let them shower and shave while I attempted to clean myself up in the gents - after I'd jerked off and got rid of all that pent up jizz.

They came downstairs, looking even more ravishing in the tightest jeans I'd ever seen on a pair of quads and in the same kind of shirt as mine - slinky muscle shirts that only good physiques can afford to be seen in. As they descended they grinned wolfishly at me and I grinned back as salaciously as I dared. I could tell they had plans afoot by those grins and by the whack Sergei gave me on my butt (after standing much too close) and the twist Alexei gave one of my erect nips (also standing much too close with his obvious package bumping into my woody).

I conducted them into the dining room and ordered us all a good meal - after a lot of tedious pantomime explaining the menu to the goggle-eyed and giggly waitress.

Then I let them have it. In perfect Russian.

"I hope you had a good shower and that you will enjoy this meal. When I was in Moscow I was of course in training, but it didn't stop me from eating some wonderful Russian meals before we all left. I'm afraid you won't find anything like that here but the chef is a three-star genius, well-known in this part of the world. I was so fascinated by all things Russian that, when I got home, I persuaded my Grandfather, who left Russia is the 1920s, to teach me his home language. He insisted on me being christened as Stepan, which soon got anglicized to Stephen."

And so I went on and on as they stared at me stupefied until the lobster bisque arrived. Then only Russian was heard until the end of the meal.

ALEXEI You little shit!

ME Enough with the "little", big guy!

ALEXEI You let us think you didn't understand a word when all the time we were -

ME Talking about me? It was all very interesting. Thanks for the compliments.

Sergei chuckled.

SERGEI Little big shit! We'll get our revenge. You'll never be safe from us now!

ALEXEI I guess we both mean to carry out all those promises we made to ourselves in the car and I guess you're not going to play hard to get?

ME Well, now -

ALEXEI Well nothing! You're going to be fucked to hell and back and you'll end up being as big as we are!

ME Oh wow! Promises, promises!

Sergei leaned across the table and squeezed a nip through my shirt. Squeezed real hard.

SERGEI AND you're going to enjoy it!

ME If you say so.

ALEXEI There's no "if" about it. Once our muscles get hold of yours, there's no turning back for any of us!

SERGEI And we'll ALL enjoy it!

Finally I relented and said:

ME I know you're right. We will. And thanks for everything.

Much to the amazement of the other diners - and further hysterics from the waitress, the brothers got up, pulled me from my seat, seized my big delts and kissed me - most un-Russianly - on the lips, a full soul-kiss from each of them. Sergei first, then he pushed me round against Alexei's bulk. Both of them making sure I felt the benefit of their swollen pecs and their swollen groins.

Then they pushed me unceremoniously back into my chair and got on with the gigantic steaks I'd ordered.

My only, unspoken, question was when will, can all this begin? And how soon could I see their great muscles naked and unadorned? The very thought caused me to cum in my pants as I sat there. I spasmed without control. They both stopped chewing and stared at me, then grinned at each other.

They knew all right.

The rest of the journey went OK. They took turns to sit beside me, the other brother leaning over the back of the front seat. They wanted to know all about me, my two careers, my sexual orientation, my contest training, the lot. I quizzed them about their history, found they really were brothers (though their real name was not Karamazov), asked about their act and how their huge muscles could do what they did.

There were all kinds of suggestive and salacious promises and they both took turns in squeezing and stroking my trousered genitalia, trying to make me cum while driving. The other one would hang over me and knead my pecs and my nips till I nearly went crazy. Finally I stopped the car and begged them to desist until a better opportunity presented itself. Once I'd promised there would be no lack of these, they settled into the back seat and went to sleep till we arrived in Manchester.

Once we were there they dragged themselves sleepily to their room, gave me a kiss and flopped out on the beds where they slept until I came to get them next morning.

Back home, in spite of another good meal, I did not get to sleep so easily. I resisted jerking off, though every fiber of my being wanted me to. I had the crazy idea - maybe not so crazy - that I should save myself for them. Finally I dropped off into a surprisingly dreamless sleep and woke next day feeling bright and chipper.

Ready for whatever. •

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