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Feasting at the Muscle Banquet
|Power-Cum for Dessert
Not wanting to admit that the cycle of spunk-fed muscle growth might end, Tom kept sucking on my monster tubesteak with even more force than I was delivering to the uncut meat in my own mouth. But the well would soon run dry, and my aching nuts could generate little more of the power drink that fueled Tom�s craving for muscle.
Barely able to stand, but goaded on by that universal male instinct to spill his seed, my sex slave grunted out his final ejaculation onto my thirsty tongue. Scarcely three or four viscous pearls oozed one at a time from his piss slit, propelled more by the suction from my insatiable throat than by the thrusts of his hips or the primal contractions of his organ. This meager emission was hardly the luscious cum dessert I had hoped for, but damn, these morsels had the texture and rich flavor of the finest Beluga caviar, and I gulped them down gratefully. My supercharged metabolism swiftly reprocessed these tasty remnants into a final bust of muscle-building cum that went straight from my churning nuts into Tom�s eager mouth.
I gazed down into Tom�s pleading eyes, and we agreed without uttering a word (Of course, who could speak anyway? Both our mouths were too stuffed with dick to get a word out edgewise!) that all good things must come to an end. After all, we each now stood almost 20 feet tall and could hardly move for the muscle bulk we had amassed. So I released the lip-lock from my drained power lifter, who collapsed and joined his dozing buddies on the floor.
You can�t even imagine what an ordeal it was for Tom to let go of my massive member, which had been buried deep in his gullet for several hours. Magnifying the challenge was the realization that my already-generous endowment had more than doubled in length and tripled in diameter, engorged by the same erotic energy fueling every swelling muscle fiber in both our bodies.
During the entire sex banquet, as my dick grew and grew, Tom had managed to keep swallowing the lengthening shaft all the way to its base. For hours on end, Tom had sucked the sap rising up my tree trunk, his swollen lips almost girdling its root. His nose was buried deep in my wiry bush, unconsciously inhaling the ends of some of my longer pubic hairs, now tangled with the short hairs in his flaring nostrils. Slowly, my 32-inch anaconda slithered out of Tom�s steaming throat, which must have felt as vacant as my empty, dilated asschute.
Pausing to Give Thanks
As Tom got up from his knees, I could scarcely believe the beefy results from feeding on gallons of my power-cum. There stood, in all his glory, my ideal of masculine physique and muscle power, his bulging mass glistening with sweat. I was in heaven. All I wanted was to worship this muscle god. In awe, my drooling tongue hung out, and I couldn�t resist licking the salty perspiration from those rock-hard pecs.
My tongue meandered further down Tom's torso, lapping the sweat that pooled in his sternum. I slid between the seams that defined his chiseled eight-pack, licking each muscle segment, which he would playfully tighten to pinch my probing tongue. His gorgeous abs could have been sculpted by Michelangelo, hard as Carrera marble, but in richer, deep golden hues. Like a lone downhill skier discovering a secret slope, my tongue slalomed along Tom�s well-groomed love trail. Picking up momentum, I sped through his pubes, ecstatic to reach my delicious reward at the end of the trail � his steaming tubesteak and bull balls as fat as melons.
Never before dreaming that his workout partner could grow to such immense proportions, Tom responded in kind. He blurted out his thanks and praise. �You are so fucking ripped, and drinking your power-cum made me almost as beefy as you.� He stretched low to worship my awe-inspiring quads and grip my granite glutes, now bigger than beach balls. I struggled to tighten my sphincter and hold in every ounce of juice from our sex slaves, but Tom now hungrily lapped up the few drops that leaked from my asslips. He nuzzled deeper into the furrow between my mountainous glutes, burying five inches of probing tongue up my puckered chute and savoring my pungent flavor.
The Cycle is Unbroken
With him sucking my butt and my lips clamped snuggly around his drizzling dick, Tom and I finished our feast. We had closed the circle, becoming both muscle gods and muscle slaves. We two had achieved a euphoric state of pure masculine bliss. Gripping each others� bulging frames tightly and lovingly, we drifted off to sleep.
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