Samson and Diego Rising

Growing Awareness


By QuoteTheRaven

CHAPTER 8 – PARC GUELL & THE BARCELONAN They ran on the trail in shorts and looked Abercrombie & Fitch from campaign after campaign. Juan was with them, but lagging. Juan panted, “Swimming, now running. My sister is not going to believe you guys.” Samson answered, “M.T. will believe… I could go hours, fucking hours, no kidding…” The sun touched his sides and he glistened. It wasn’t different from a virginal foal stretching its stride. He turned his head over his shoulder, “But, follow me – this exits the farmer’s market – I’m thinkin’ greens, yams.” He darted to the path. “Just watch your footing!” Juan warned. Samson tea-kettled. “SHIT…! Ow, that hurts,” Samson reached for his foot. “…Fuck, I crunched the hell out of my ankle.” They helped him stand. “Damn, this is gonna fuck swimming.”

“Here’s ice. Elevate it.” Diego handed him the bag. Samson slouched in the wingback. His 8 inches sacked on his thighs. He bent his leg and pulled his knee to his chest. He appreciated the long muscle. He let his head dangle exhibitionistically against it and then aroused himself to engorge it, smiling. “Nice show.” Juan whistled. Diego looked – and didn’t move his eyes. “Yeah, it is a nice show… But enough, Dudes! Jesus, Deegs, it’s all here anytime.” Samson massaged his gonadal stirring and, after a bit, looked at the two, “Maybe it’s a good time for some time alone.”

Diego didn’t know why he’d told work that staying with Samson would make him 2 hours late. He swam an hour and a half and now there was a feeling in his balls that he knew must be a straight guy’s horniness. And his clothes were tighter, well he didn’t quite know if that was true but his head kept returning to the thought. At the café, his mobile rang and he squeezed it from the pocket of the jeans. “Es Diego.” A pause. “Oh yeah…” Self-consciousness. “Si, no, I can talk,” he chunked bites of the chickens he’d boiled on the foil. “Um… Isn’t eight late?” He bunched his shirt and bounced his fist against the washboards whose structure had emerged. He stretched the cotton. He wanted so much what he felt within. “Oh-oh... I see… Sure then… meet you tomorrow, Alejandro.” A feeling of uneasiness built.

The next night, Diego returned early. Samson pushed the mixing equipment into its drawer. It had been two days and Diego looked “take-notice”, Samson thought…even, maybe “take charge” impossibly. Why did he, himself, feel so exhausted? “Early swim, Lothario. That a bad sign?” Diego put his thumb up…. cranked it down, “That’s right.” He gathered himself. “He was hand-massaging down THERE.” Diego directed his eyes at his groin. “Yeah, aNd…” “And, I went off… like a popgun, dang… it was too fast…but I was so fric… frickin’ excited… me a gayboy! – finally having a sex-oriented gaystud experience.... and he said ‘I expected more… its too small and you went off fucking fast, dude.’ He ass-walked away, v’ed and hung. Sammy.. When.., when?” “Oh, dude, he was a fucker and you’ve gotta fucking be more confident. But don’t sweat it – you’ll do better.” “Yeah, you’re right, I’ve gotta do better.” Diego took his shirt off, and shallow lines faintly outlined the circles of his chest; faint cuts cleared his arms and legs. He looked at himself, “fuck, I gotta be more confident.” His hand came off his arm and he went into the kitchen and pulled out 2 cartons of eggs.

“I’m heading there, Sam.” “I’ll go… ” A sympathetic look was in Diego’s eye, “I don’t think you can.” He touched Samson, “But, I gotta still. How is your ankle?” “It’s healing so fast, like ‘hey watch me heal’ fast. But the rest of me sucks, Dee – like my whole body’s fuckin drained ’cause of that needy ankle.” Circles were under his eyes.

Diego showed from a 2 hour workout and Samson wondered what the cast to Diego’s El-Cid-carved jaw reminded him of? He kept picturing a stud from some testosteroned Hollywood blockbuster – it had been too long – he thought he’d have to watch one again.

Diego stepped off the scale and closed the window against the trucks on the dawn streets. He buttoned his jeans over the orange squarecut and rubbed his hand on his ass. The scale had read 154; that was 6 pounds more in 3 days. His dick twitched in the confines of his crotch. He hiked his bag on his shoulder and looked at Samson sleeping and spoke lowly, “Sorry to go alone again, Samsam, but somebody’s gotta try and change… try and….” He fell quiet and let his teeth tear into the protein bar. He took a long drink of water. He closed the door to the apartment while Samson still slept.

Mist covered the scum and Diego swam searchingly in the miasma. His body was naked and day-glo lycra conspicuously lay on the side of the pool. He coveted the goop he submerged in and let it flow over him. For some reason, he decided to also let it come into his mouth.

In two blocks, the tram would go past Bigger Bodies next to Click Models Spain. Diego, still damp with tints, eyed a builder whose bag crossed his shoulders and whose ass had a 31-year-old’s screw-worthy seat. He watched the hound disappear into the entrance beneath the black-and-white posters of 70’s muscle stars – the posers were still sexy with their big-lit monster bodies. Diego looked at himself and realized he could see the outline of his arms in the lycra shirt he’d had but had never felt he could wear. He massaged his hand into the just discernible roll between the two sides of his chest and brought his fingers to his small, but sensitive nipples. “This is….” He looked again and felt throbbing in his dick to think of growth. “I’m gonna do it. Fuckin, do it.” He hopped off the tram, and faltered, started to turn away, but forced himself back to the gym, “I have to – oh, jesus, have balls.”

The total of four plates barred heavy on him. “Ugh…ugHGGHfucUh.. owww.” “Don’t pussyboy it, girlie… I warned you… so fucking squat it, slim” the string-tanked flexer berated him, putting his hands on Diego’s torso. “Fuck, you’re marble-firm, thin dude.” “I can do this,” Diego begged in his mind and then felt a tingle begin in his feet and swell toward his center – “Aaaghhh, that’s it… oh god, it’s incredible… that feels incredible,” he thought.

Diego pumped out the rep and then the set… And then a second. He finished and the lifter blatted, “Eleven… 2 sets of eleven… Unfuckingbelievable, slim.” He swatted Diego’s ass. Diego smiled and admired how the stud’s dick made a pointy rise in the sweats he wore. Diego didn’t care that he himself was revealing more than that in his square cut. Didn’t care that he’d stripped and that he was the only one dressed man-faggoty. It felt like what he needed to do even if he was very skinny and the farthest thing imaginable from some great beast-heave. “That’s right… that’s right it is unfuckingbelievable… but, i’ll show you what unfuckingbelievable is really going to be.” he said under his breath, surprising himself.

The scale in the locker room read 159. It had made him intensely excited. He’d been 154 yesterday. Fucking, fucking, five pounds. He turned bright red.

Out of the iron house he felt his circulation of blood like testosterone had been shoveled into his veins by some army-sponsored drug shover. “Ah, yeah.” Aah, he felt so good.

Samson heard the door. “How was it?” “Good,” there sounded a rasp in Diego’s voice, “Better than good.” “You’re back later. You swim longer?” “No, Sammy – 2 hours, but – um – I pumped iron. Unh, I feel funny about it though.” It wasn’t a rasp, it was hoarse and lower. “Pumped Iron!!? No fuck!? You’re as self-conscious as crap, about that stuff! What’s happening to you? What’re you doing with your voice?” “I’m not sure. Like I said, I feel funny… full… kind of… large.” “It sounds lower. Anyway, come, I have PowerBoy omelets for us.” Diego stepped in from the foyer, his warm-up top already off. Samson paused. There were planes across Diego’s torso and they cast shadows. His shoulders had broadened - a gap between his upper arm and his tightened trunk unmissable. “Holy, Diego, you look different, dude – Something good – Mmph! That pumping iron’s got something to it, maybe” “Si? Do I? Do I look bueno? I thought maybe… I feel different.” His arms and torso moved unconsciously, and as they did, he slightly compressed in places just detectably bulging – his chest, shoulder caps, along the bicep-inside of his arms showing the hot curves that a novice college lifter would have. “I know one thing is for sure, this suit’s gonna go.” He pulled down his warm-ups and showed his orange lycra. The crotch plumped in a he’s-stuffed-it way. But, Diego ignored that and turned. “Look at my aaass… I mean, rear.” The fabric stretched kind of over his glutes. “… I mean, look, Samson.” His glutes rose so that they had become gritty street toughs that seemed to be flashing their stuff. A squat under the iron had catalyzed something. Samson’s breath paused. Diego turned, “See what’s up front?” He yo-yo’d his pouch and opened up a normal dick that now measured at six inches. “I’m 2 inches mas grande, Sam-man… I want it as much like you as I can, big boy – always have…” He touched his hand to Samson’s clothed breast. He continued, “More – it makes me feel different… I had no idea how a dick could make me feel… it’s been hard to get it not hard since this morning… hmm.” He lifted his lean chest and dropped his less narrow shoulders and touched his hand to the new more typical cock. “Holy frick.” Samson reached into Diego’s pants for a feel. “How in the gayfuckboy – I mean just fuckin’ how did you do that!?” He felt – not a dildo. “Hands off – you know how, Sam. We just don’t say… ” He looked thoughtful and touched it again. “Yea, we might not. But it’s that scum, you know it… and you’re… well, I’m gonna go again one day soon.” Samson reached in and moved his fingers back and forth along the arousing Diegan averageness. “Aaagh” Diego’s face went open, “Mierde, stop that… Oh Christ, almost got me… but, let me have the fun!” He stepped away from Samson and let the fabric pull back. “Why don’t you let the man manage the manhood in my spray down, Samantha, while you cook up the food,” he sounded as though he knew he were acting like a 16-year-old whose finally gotten his man-dick after all the others.

An animal sounded from the bathroom. Orgiastic mutterings accompanied the approach to the climaxing strokes. Samson muttered “no way” and touched his limpid pack to hear the guttural needs. A roar echoed in the apartment and Samson realized he could hear Diego’s cum spraying the shower-tiled walls. “Fuck.”

Diego came from the shower unshirted and smiled. He sat to the protein-infused omelet and wolf-chunked it. A lingering grunting escaped his lips, and rips on his flexing body cut his light pecs each time his bared pearlies munched the food from his plate. “I’ve reached 26 pounds, Samboy, 164, Sam… forkin’ two weeks, forkin’ 26 pounds…” His expression looked hungry for food. “I wanna eat… you know, just eat, Sam… how about another omelet?”

It was more turns to the bath and Samson sat on the wall. “Fuck… just go, Deegs.” “I’m sorry, Sam. Listen, it will be all right, really. I’ll see you back.” Diego looked so different. Samson thought that Diego was changed so foreign like the kind of bigger he’d seen on Will Smith or Thomas Jayne when they’d bulked up, putting on 20 or 40 pounds for “Ali” or “The Punisher”. “That’s right, Deegs… It will be fine. I’ll get to shift early… and MT’s supposed to come anyway.” Samson watched Diego’s disappearing back and saw Diego sucking on another one of the protein shakes.

CHAPTER 9 – LA CIUDAD VIEJA Samson was at the counter when Maria Theresa came, printed flowers tracing her cleavage and her arms. “I needed to see you,” she said. “Can you bring a mocha to the table outside?”

Outside, the sun was glinting in the black waterfall of her hair “I been thinking, Samson...” Samson’s crotch gave hints of his life-drained dick beneath its white-blue fabric. “What, solita?” “Why you want me?” She asked. He leaned back in the wire chair and put his hand on the stomach of his t-shirt. “We wander alone, and then we meet that person who changes it all – that coffee tastes better, you shine where I was dark.” “But, Samson, the girlfriend is supposed to…. You know… and I don’t… can’t. I am not good for you.” “Oh, I want you so much. I want you now. We’ll never talk about this again.” “Samson…” “I’ll show you love. We’ll go to my place – make love now.” He rolled her wheelchair away from Euro Java toward the apartment.

Alone in the bathroom, he hung limp in loose boxer folds. “No jacking for days… and fucking !?…” He fondled again, “I need lube and fuck there’s none.” He cast about for a moment and then noticed the stenchy goop pooled in Deeg’s racer. “Fuckit, ok.” He slopped a scrape on. Dammit, ouc.uggh… Ok, yea that does feel good. Yeah, alright… hardening, ah, YeaH… yeah it feels really good. He smeared more on. “I’m coming!”

He shorts-tented entering the bedroom. “Hello, most gorgeous woman.” He reached under her laying form and unzipped her. His dick felt good – and hard. He felt weary, but somehow as horny as could be. He kissed her and dropped petals across her abdomen and breasts. He smacked a kiss where each lay. She groaned and groped his head. “Press me.” He undulated his erection against her. It had never felt this way – this fuck-power. He humped hard and bumped against her wrapped mound. She touched his unscabbarded bandolier and massaged her hands all over his too lean body, “Oooh. Drill me now, hombre, guapo.” He felt his thinness in him – god how different the cock was from this stick build. He wiped the scum, unrolled the large Trojan lubed. It’s not softer is it…? “Ah, radiant love,” he pulled aside her panties and speared. “Ah God,” he felt the strokes of his penis in her vagina walls… 2 minutes passed. Humping… 5 minutes passed and he continued. Sweat hit her curves. His cock softened… grew softer… 10 minutes, he collapsed and was soaked with his dick flaccid. “I’m sorry.” “Don’t be. I am a cripple girl – Not hot.” “No! You’re the most sexual girl I’ve known.” “You can say that, but I can’t let you be with a girl who don’t ‘cum’ – who can’t get you to ‘cum’.” She pulled to her wheelchair and her skirt, so he grabbed Diego’s ass-torn square cut lying on the bed. It was small enough to make his 8-incher even drained look good. He felt the goop’s grit wiping into his balls. She put on her blouse. “I love you more than anything … but, I won’t let you settle. Good bye.” “Maria Theresa, it’s not what I want –we can grow together. I can work on my endurance… my strength… my massiv…” He was stiffened in the suit, horniness in his balls again now, feral suddenly, and luringly sexual. “The very idea… the idea makes me….” Maria Theresa rolled out and was gone. Samson rodded 8 1/16th inches standing 149 lbs in Diego’s scum-dressed spandex.

“She’ll figure it out.” “It just hurts, Deegs.” “Give her time. Come, your ankle’s finally healed; we need to make you a man again and then you’re taking me to Muscl Vodka’s launch party tonight.”

CHAPTER 10 – MONTJUICANS Samson straight-armed from the swamp and panted. He already felt stronger again with the feeling that the swamp pushed back into his body. The slimy black strands criss-crossed every part of skin and he watched as isolated dots of the stuff faded from view and as the strands started to blend in and grow thinner on him. Fuck, it was hot. Just knowing what it could do and maybe even what it would give for M.T. He didn’t need to know how or why.

He self-splashed more slop onto his ribs and lean legs and then bikini-opened, accessing his dick. He manipulated pleasurably, enjoying its height as he administered the strokes. It grew hard quickly, until, fuck, he was aching and knew it was going to be climactic to unleash the dam from the reservoir of his balls. He wrapped more onto the shaft and wolfishness played on his lips. He groaned beggingly and the invisible wrench tightened and then more cruelly on his gonads. “Ah, fuck, that’s it.” He grunted and the milk-churned fountain sprouted a splashing path into the air.

Diego rose from the pool. His neck and shoulders were thicker and stronger. It was 171 lbs that was young-guy International Male heavy. “What you been doing?” He gazed at the cream that vanilla’d on Samson’s dark skin. “It’s something very becoming, I have to say.” “Oh, it’s nothing,” Samson lied. “Oh, not ‘nothing’, or if ‘nothing’, it’s the kind of ‘nothing’ I lick clean, girl fucker.” Diego dabbed and tasted Samson’s dick juice. “God, that’s good.” His head descended onto Samson, and he lipped cum from Samson’s skinny body. His slurps echoed as he grunge ate and as Samson looked with horrored acceptance and perhaps something an onlooker might call hooded desire. Diego, like a vacuum, covered the flawless skin, and finished by making a prolonged knob-mouthing stop on Samson’s dome-topped male key. “Deegs – you fucking cum sucker.” “Yea, Samstud, yea.” The diegan cheek-redness was not on his face. “I eat, Samson, and I grow now.” He flexed and there was a hard svelteness to his modeled tall build, “Come on, we need to get to the ‘Vodka’ scene.”

Samson called her before they left for the product promotional party. “Please… please… M.T. please come.” The answer from the line came back no. He put his recovering skinny arm over Diego’s shoulder, “I’m in for a night of forgetting, man date.”

CHAPTER 11 -- BAVARIAN Samson’s head hurt and he groaned. He looked at his night stand. There was the empty bottle of Muscl Vodka with its silver torso’d label. His gut wrenched ravaged by the bottle’s contents. He groaned the pain and MT’s name filled the sound. He rolled over and closed his eyes again.

The alarm clicked on the Ibiza tunes and he returned to consciousness knowing he would have to rise. He pulled his eyes from the ceiling and turned to Diego’s bed, expecting to find his roommate alone. His attitude shifted. “Ah, Score!” he said, “Deegs’s never tricked before!” A v-shaped torso rose off the other mattress and glutes framed a sweaty line. Below the narrow ass, there were legs that bulged. The developed stud looked massed and in comparison showed how little had changed for the merely fit physique of Diego. “Shit,” Samson bit on his lower lip, “that’s steer-meat – a fuckman mounded with crap.” Samson’s bladder ached. He pulled himself upright and put his foot on the ground. His head pounded sharply. “Ah, Christ, I suck.” His dick swung and slapped at his legs as he crossed the room. “Well, fuck, at least, that’s holy fucking hot. Make me bigger, make Deegs bigger… holy fuck.”

By Deegs’ bed, a smile played, “Good morning, hulker,” he whispered into the stud’s ear, “Jesus, you’re a young, gorgeous fuck.” He reached past his Spanish-handsome roommate to the pumped twentied builder, and fingered the young guy’s hanging flaccidity, up-and-downing sensitively as it hardened. He touched the developed lat that the boy’s physique offered. “Yea, super nice.” He length-stroked more and watched the penis as it changed progressively toward full-salute. “Nice, Mass Boy. Nice even if not hung like my Spanish friend’s enlarged model.” Aroused, but still asleep, Samson saw the Arnold cradle Diego, and press his pole into Diego’s hairy groin. “Yes, ah god, I know what the fuck that’s all about.” Samson slid his hand off. Diego stirred and brushed lips with the sleeping man and moved his hands forward, as the stranger did the same. The two obtained grips on each other’s morning wood while still close-eyed. They started to stroke groggily. “A-ha, fuck,” Samson said softly through a shit-eating grin. “Fuck it up, boys.”

In the bathroom, he pissed like a horse. He groaned his splitting headache. “No aspirin – ah, how that sucks.” He rooted the shelves. “What’s this?” Diego’s small jar brimmed with scum. “What the fuck are you doing with this, Deegs?” He asked himself. He scooped a portion out and spread it on his forehead, and then the back of his neck. “Well, whatever.” He put a fingerful in his mouth. Agh, that was grungy, dirty crap. He fingered a second dose, and smile-fucked himself as he ate it. He looked at himself. “Fuck look at you – you are getting too frickin’ cut!” He ran his hands over his body – he liked it. He flexed himself into a side bicep pose and clearly saw a lean dude with cuts deepening over his body and on his arm. “wanna fuck me?? sure.” He said to know one in particular. He tugged his heavy dangler and it hardened until he hopped in the water. It was man-bigger wasn’t it, but then he wanted that, he knew. He let the warm morning shower beat against his long body and the pain of his headache softened and faded. His mind turned to Maria Theresa and he found himself thinking strangely of her vagina and thinking of her vagina plow-riding a fantastically huge black hard-on – The sensation grew hotter and more palpable. With his eyes shut, his hand now on his black dick seemed to traverse a great, mighty girth of throbbing pleasure. “Oh, fUcKINg, Wow.” He exploded at the sensation, surprised to find himself firing so that his insides emptied and the surfaces around him wall-painted with dripping load. “Fucking, what can I become… just what can I become,” he said and arched his whole, long body. On his face, tears over Maria Theresa rolled even as he sensed his body’s embryonic invincibility.

Diego showed up at Euro Java Café a bit after 10. “Ah, nice of you to make it, muffin stud,” “Ay.” “Bull for breakfast, huh?” “Oh, completely – he’s Matthias. He’s… a German whose…, SamBam, did you see his… frickin’ the monster he’s put on?” “I thought there was something noticeable about everyone of his nice appendages.” Samson pursed his lips, smartassing. “Last night was friggin everything – you missed it, drunk! You wouldn’t believe tho – I grew balls.” “Oh, you’ve BEEN growin’ ’em. I see them pressing in your really too-small-for-you thug-guy undies or hanging in that i-think-i'm-turning-into-a-caveman way around our pad.” Samson reached his hand out and hefted; it was some kind of feel between Diego’s long strengthening legs. He looked at Diego alluringly. “No, but listen, Sam, he was working that back bar – so studdish – a 20-year-old massing and fricking hulking out of that singlet. The seat was stretching across an ass squatted and quads boy-Olympian large. Oh, Jesus, Samson, his crotch was a gorgeous size.” Diego paused and pushed down the waist of his worn denim jeans. He stretched his hips backward and Samson could see that there was unconscious hardening in Diego’s groin. “Samson, Those wrestling straps cut his tit-nipples. He’s frickin’ handsome – cheekbones, black eyes, blond crew cut, and you saw how HGH huge he is. And you know what I did!??” “Avoid him? Get your drinks from another bar? Hmm, let’s see what else does Diego do with someone who turns him on?” “I know… but I left Juana, told her I’d be back, and got my drinks from the guy. I unbuttoned two buttons and tucked my hair. ‘Hey, I love what you’ve done with your body. I want muscle – not straight’ I said.” “Fuck, good job, Deegs.” “But you should have seen the look. ‘You mean Muscl Vodka!? Right!?’ he said, ‘as a martini, is that what you mean!?’ – When he looked at my face he looked surprised and then real flushed, improbably embarrassed. He avoided MY eyes. My next trip up, I said, ‘You have an unbelievable body – your whole pumped-up playground ripples. I’ll tell you there’s something bulging on my body.’ Then I paused. ‘I’ll take more muscle – different than the first.’ He looked frozen, Samson. HIM self-conscious at MY come-on!?. And then his face brightened, got cocky. He leaned into my ear and whispered, ‘fuck yea – you better have a boner.’ And I said, ‘Yea, seven inches,’ and Samson, god it’s more than that.” “That’s nice, Deegs, really nice – it almost makes me jealous you know – how you’re catchi…, how you look – how that guy…” Samson dropped back onto his left foot and continued, “No, but don’t stop. Tell me the rest.” “So the next trip up I told him we should fuck around, and I used that word. I told him that at my place we might get an audience – but you were frickin passed out.” “Shit, unbelievable! And, I missed it – you know I’m all voyeur.” “I boned, boyfriend! Big, hard ones – I – just … well ass-pumped that gluteal-heapheight and pump-fucked until he ponded his pec-piles. And then I fucked him again… UnH! You ought to have told me that sex would be so fucking good.” “Jesus, I think I did, stud.” Samson balanced his arms on Diego’s thin neck. “But, welcome to the club,” he felt the firmness of the basketball player traps that were starting to suggest themselves there, “You’re one awesome dude, Diego.” Samson lowered his hands down to Diego’s swimmer’s ass and pulled so that he could detectably feel the elongation Diego now held in his pants. He opened his mouth and encompassed Diego’s tall-guy, model-full lips. •

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